Springtime for Sombra

Chapters

Manehatten (What You do to Us)
A Dry Run
Booze and Beds
The First Day
Banal Broadway
Pinkie Prowling
Never Say "Good luck!" on Opening Night
Springtime for Sombra
Epilogue
The Train There
Memories of Sigil

Manehatten (What You do to Us)

Rarity stepped from the train with a flick of her mane, pulling her bags along with her. Manehatten’s train station really was a marvelous piece of architecture. The tan colored marble tiles of the floor were polished to a gleam, while the sandy walls were accented with sleek statues carved in the nouveau style. Even the ceiling was marked with an impressive mural of the night sky, the stars enchanted to cast light across the interior of the structure.

Pinkie Pie and Skitch joined her a moment later with their own bags. Pinkie was still a sugar-rush personified, with her wide grin, and the way her eyes darted to each and every new pony she saw trotting across the floor.

Skitch-Sketch looked...rather at home really. Not excited, nor scared, she stepped off the train with a relaxed stride, adjusting her saddlebags with a flick of spell power.

“So, I suppose that the first step is to find a place to stay?” She asked. “Not to expensive, not to cheap would be my vote.”

Rarity nodded. She had the hotel in mind already, in fact. Her father always was the practical one, so the one he was staying at would do their little group nicely.

“I have just the place in mind.” She called, trotting for the doors.

Skitch and Pinkie followed along, Skitch actually pulling ahead as they stepped out onto the street. Said streets were packed with ponies, the yellow and black marked pull cabs so iconic to the city stopping every now and again to allow passengers to get in.

Rarity blinked at the back and forth flow of chaos that was unfolding before them. The cabs barely seemed to wait before they took off with their equine cargo. She wasn’t sure how they were going to get the attention of a driver-

Skitch marched right to the curb, letting loose a sharp whistle while waving a few bits above her head. One of the cabs immediately swooped in, a dark brown stallion with roguish smile winking at the three of them.

“Need a ride ladies? Tour of the cities night life spots?”

Oh my. Rarity thought, stepping forward with a smile. She really is in her element here.

“Of course.” She answered the cabbie, tossing her bags onto the back seat, Pinkie and Skitch adding their own a moment later. “The Royal Hotel please. Tenth and fifty-seventh I believe.”

“Sure thing miss!”

With a nod, Rarity daintily climbed into the front seat, Pinkie Pie hopping in right behind her, and Skitch squirming in last. The minute they were all situated, the driver took off with a start, his hooves hammering hard on the wide streets of Manehatten.

A yelp escaped Rarity’s lips as he accelerated to a full gallop, weaving in between the other cabs on the road like some kind of...of...mad stallion!

“Weee!” Pinkie giggled at her side, hooves waving in the air with reckless abandon.

“Nice to see that cabbies drive like nuts in Equestria too.” Skitch dryly commented from her own seat.

Rarity clung to the dash rail of the cab, eyes wide as her mane whipped in the wind. The cab carriage whipped around a corner, sending Pinkie sliding into her side with another giggle. She instinctively grabbed at Pinkie, latching onto her friend and squeezing her eyes closed.

Should have walked! Should have walked! Should have walked! She repeated in a mental mantra as her world became a mad shuffle of motion and sound.

And then with a sudden stop, the journey was as over as soon as it began. She opened one, then the other, and finally peered over the mass of pink curls that was Pinkie Pie’s hair to see the face of a building rising before them.

“Royal Hotel.” The cabbie happily chirped. “That’ll be fifteen bits.”

“Fifteen bits for almost getting us killed!” Rarity shouted. “Where did you learn how to pull a cart?!”

“Hey, you didn’t have to take the ride lady.” He glowered, the tone in his voice turning immediately confrontational. “It’s fifteen bits or we get the authorities involved for trying to skip out on a fare.”

“Twelve bits, fifty jangles.” Skitch countered. “And not a jangle more because of the trauma you inflicted on my friend here.”

“Fourteen.” The cabbie fired back.

“Thirteen.” Skitch said with a finality in her voice. “And you’ll be able to say that you gave two of the Elements of Harmony a ride.”

The cabbie blinked, looking back at Rarity and Pinkie with dawning realization. His attitude turned on a jangle, once again snapping back to his previous grin. “That’ll be fine.”

Rarity made for her coin purse, but Skitch held up a hoof before carefully counting out a collection of coins from her own. With their driver paid, they collected their bags and made for the hotel door.

“Never try to out negotiate a Jew.” Skitch chuckled.

Rarity tilted her head slightly at that statement. While Skitch-Sketch was a perfectly friendly pony, Rarity couldn’t help but notice that there there were certain things that she rarely brought up. Earth, her life before becoming Skitch-Sketch, and her family...well unless directly prompted she was vague on all of those things, speaking in broad terms. And in terms of the fictional portrayals of herself and the rest of the element bearers, Skitch had grown even more tight lipped since Trixie’s visit.

Not that Rarity could really blame her for her silence. She had seen the film of Skitch’s breakdown over her failed attempts to return to earth, and suspected that she was hiding from those dark thoughts by focusing on Equestria. But there was one big question in her mind still.

“What’s a Jew?” Pinkie asked the question for her, “Is it anything like juice? Do Jews drink juice? Oooo! I could go for some juice right now!”

Skitch paused, hoof on the door. She gave Pinkie an odd look. Then she snickered, before an out and out laugh escaped her lips.

“Hehehe.” She giggled, before stepping into the rest of the way into the building. “Ahh, Pinkie, I can always count on you to lighten the mood.”

The lobby was simple, but well maintained. Rarity wasn’t sure she would have gone with red for the carpet. It clashed so horribly with the cream colored couches that were scattered about for ponies to sit on, and the few small rose plants in the corners.

“Well,” Skitch began to explain as they crossed towards the check in desk. “The Jewish people are an ethnic and religious grouping of people on my planet. Though the religion itself is called Judaism.”

“Oh, okay.” Pinkie nodded. “That’s okay Skitchy, you don’t have to explain more.”

“Huh?” She blinked, looking confused. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Not really dear.” Rarity answered. “It’s just that religion and spirituality are very personal things in Equestria. To just waltz up to somepony and question their beliefs is considered to be amazingly rude.”

“Wow…” Skitch blinked. “Now that’s just surreal.”

Drawing level with the counter, Rarity rapped the surface to get the attention of the front desk clerk. The skyblue pegasus stallion snapped to attention. “How many rooms ladies?” He questioned, sliding the guest book over to them.

“One with three beds, if you can arrange it.” Rarity answered.

“Well, we have a room on the second floor with two beds, a single and a princess, will that do?”

“That’ll do fine.” Rarity nodded, quickly filling out the book.

Bits were exchanged for keys, which were then passed out among the three.

“Very well then. Shall we take our bags up to the room and unwind a little?” Rarity asked.

“Actually, I’m going to head over to the Palace Theatre and see exactly what they want me to do there.” Skitch answered.

“Ooo! I’m going to go with!” Pinkie beamed, with a few bounces in place. “I’ve always wanted to see the Palace!”

“Very well. If you give me your bags, I shall go and take them to the room.”

Pinkie and Skitch passed their saddlebags over, Rarity draping them over her back. Exchanging another nod, the two groups split up, Rarity heading for the stairs while Pinkie and Skitch headed out the door.

Well. Rarity thought as she took the stairs. I suppose I might as well touch base with my father once I drop the bags off.

Skitch floated a map of Manehatten- acquired from the front desk- before her, plotting the course to the apparently legendary (according to Pinkie at least) Palace Theatre. Pinkie Pie bounced alongside her, humming a cheerful and somewhat infectious tune. She smiled. The presence of the pink one couldn’t help but bolster her spirits.

And watching Pinkie essentially engage in fangirl squeeing over seeing a legendary Equestrian entertainment location was probably one of the most adorable things she had seen since arriving in this reality.

The fact that ponies were just as capable of becoming fanboys and fangirls...or would that be fanstallions and fanmares? Well, either way it was quite comforting in its own way.

“So, Pinkie.” She asked. “You said that you grew up listening to these vaudeville broadcasts?”

“Yuppers!” She nodded. “I was a little colicy as a foal, so my parents tried putting a radio in my room. And all of the vaudeville broadcasts would always help me go out like a light! As early as I can remember, I remember laughing and smiling to the radio.”

“Wait a minute.” Skitch interrupted, raising an eyebrow at that particular bombshell. “I thought you didn’t smile or laugh until you got your cutie-mark. When Dash did her sonic rainboom for the first time.”

“Now, why would you think something like that silly filly?” Pinkie giggled, giving Skitch a friendly pat on the head.

“Because, it was my understanding that on the rock farm, you spent your days ‘Working the fields.’ and that upon those fields ‘There was no talking, there was no smiling, there was only rocks.”!”

“Well, duh there was no smiling out in the fields! It’s rock farming! It’s like your writers don’t have any idea how hard rock farming really is!”

Blinking again, Skitch carefully folded up the map before answering. “Well, Pinkie, they wouldn’t, for two very important reasons. The first being that, as writers, rock farming isn’t really in their…” She waved a hoof, searching for the right word, “Repertoire. And perhaps, more importantly, rock farming is completely impossible on earth.”

“Huh...where do you get your rocks for building then?”

“Quarries, mostly. We dig them out of the ground.”

“Oh.” Pinkie blinked. “...That sounds kind of boring, really. I mean, if you dig the rocks up, how do you get rock candy?”

Skitch paused, then shook her head. “Yeah, I suppose it does. Anyway.” She waved a hoof at one of the buildings on the street. “We’re here.”

The building itself was constructed from sandstone and had a simple marque that jutted forward from the face, a smaller sign displaying the theatre’s name immediately under it. It was a far cry from the pictures of its earth based counterpart that she had seen on Google, with its full sized marquees that blocked the whole of the building.

“Like stepping back in time.” Skitch smiled.

“Come on!” Pinkie shouted, charging through the doors without a care in the world. Skitch followed along, trotting past the empty ticket booths within, and into the red carpeted lobby where Pinkie had already been intercepted by two familiar looking stallions. The yellowish coats, the red and white striped manes and tails, the matching straw boater hats.

“Ahh, brother! There she is!” Flim grinned, sweeping his hat off his head with a magical flourish.

“Quite right brother.” Flam agreed, flashing his own grin past his neatly trimmed moustache.

Skitch gave them a shifty glance as they approached to greet her. A pair of neatly pressed suit jackets, the same color as their bowties, had been added to their look from The Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000, giving her the impression that this version of the brothers might be better off money wise. The one difference, however, was their cutie-marks. Rather than the split apple, their flanks bore the comedy and tragedy masks. More specifically, Flim had comedy and Flam tragedy.

Flim clapped her on the back, still flashing that salesman grin. “I imagine you’re not quite familiar with us. I’m Flim, he’s Flam, and we’re the world famous Flim Flam Brothers of Perfect Pegasus Productions. Glad that you could make the trip up here to Manehatten Miss Skitch-Sketch.”

“Uhh. Yeah.” Skitch grinned, trying to put her knee jerk reaction on the shelf. After all, this universe's version of Trixie was not what she suspected, and the two ponies in front of her didn’t even have the same cutie-marks as the pair that tried to take Applejack’s farm. “Your letter indicated that you wanted someone to do effect work for a production?”

“That’s right.” Flam nodded, Pinkie wandering back and forth behind him, examining every inch of the lobby. “That, and we could use a bit of an outsider eye on our production. We have a real epic in the works, and both of you ponies have been involved in some truly epic things!”

“Quite right brother!” Flim agreed.

“Oh, wow!” Pinkie interrupted, her eyes even wider than usual. “You mean I get to help on something that’s going to be shown in THE PALACE!?!”

“If you’re ready and willing my dear! We’d be more than happy to have the Element of Laughter involved!”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here.” Skitch frowned. “I’m not agreeing to anything until I see a contract of some kind.”

“Oooh!” Pinkie gasped. “Are you going to use your special Jew powers to negotiate?!”

There was a distinct pause for a moment as Skitch facehoofed. “Pinkie….it doesn’t work that way.”

“What?” She blinked. “You said ‘Don’t try to out negotiate a Jew!’. That’s a kind of human, right?” She continued, following her train of logic, “So, obviously you had negotiation magic like a pegasus can fly or….”

“Pinkie, just...please stop. I don’t think that the Anti-Defamation League can hear you, but I’d rather not take that chance.” She sighed. “Remember, there’s no magic on earth. The bit about Jewish people being good with money and negotiation is a negative stereotype. I'm good at negotiating because I always had to haggle for parts when I was building computers.”

“Oh!” Pinkie blinked, comprehension suddenly spreading across her features. “I’m sorry Skitchy.”

“Don’t worry about it Pinkie.” She waved a dismissive hoof. “Cultural differences and all that jazz.” Turning back towards Flim, she nodded. “Okay Flim, show me what you have on offer.”

“Of course.” He nodded. “Brother, how about you take Miss Pie to see the crew, and I’ll discuss business with our friend here.”

“Right this way Miss Pie.”

Pinkie beamed as they trotted past the freshly constructed sets, the smell of the fresh paint still clinging to the backstage area. It was hard for her to believe that she was walking on the same stage that had seen the hooves of so many great performers. Bluebell and Cornet, Icey Blue, Zero Milepost, Great Burns!

“What kind of show are you doing?” She asked, still grinning. “You said it was epic?”

“Well it’s a historical piece, a musical all about the Crystal Empire.”

Pinkie was largely home schooled, a consequence of growing up on a farm. But the disappearance of the Crystal Empire and the rise of Equestria’s third and youngest princess was something that everypony knew about. The party pony liked to think about what throwing a party for an alicorn would be like. Maybe...just maybe, if she kept practicing the art of laughter and making ponies smile, she’d be able to throw the most splendiferous party for an alicorn ever someday!

She was about to comment on how neat the musical idea sounded, when something caught her eye. The door to one of the dressing rooms had just swung open and a pony had stepped into the corridor. He was older looking, with a coat the color of freshly turned soil, and a short cropped mane the color of marigolds. And he was one of the giants of Vaudeville.

Marigold Button.

With a gasp, she bolted forward, bowling Mister Flam out of the way, who went tumbling away with a shocked yelp. In a moment she was staring into the face of one of her foalhood idols. Compared to most ponies she had met, Mister Button didn’t react with shock at her enthusiastic greeting, just staring back at her.

“You’re the third most aggressive stampede of cotton candy I’ve ever seen.”

“Oh! Mister Button!” She gushed, bouncing back and forth I’m such a big fan of yours! I’ve heard almost every monologue, skit and comedy presentation you’ve ever done!”

“Why thank you my dear.” He smiled, a slight sadness in his smile. ”It’s always nice to meet a fan.”

“You’re going to be in the musical?” She asked, the words almost bouncing out of her mouth from the excitement. “I mean, obviously you are, but I didn’t think you were the musical type.”

“I’m not.” He answered curtly. “But, here I am.” He shrugged. Pausing for a moment, he raised an eyebrow, giving Pinkie a more appraising look, like he was seeing her for the first time. “Wait a minute...you’re the Element of Laughter aren’t you?”

“Uh huh!” Pinkie grinned, beaming with pride.

“Sorry kid. Don’t know why I didn’t recognize you before.” His eyes roamed over Flam for a moment before flicking back to Pinkie. “My mind must be a someplace else right now. So, what brings you here?”

“Oh, I’m here to help my friend Skitchy! She’ll be doing some effects for the show!”

“And I’m just showing her around.” Flam nodded.

“Ahh, well, that’s very nice.” He nodded, before frowning. “I suppose you’d like to meet the rest of the crew then?”

“Yes please!”

“Well, this way.” He motioned towards a break room down the hallway from the dressing rooms. “I’ll introduce you to everypony.”

As Pinkie trotted down the hallway, she felt a shiver run down her spine, and a sneeze escape her snout. She blinked, realizing what just happened. Somepony was lying to somepony nearby.

“And there you have it.” Flim said, tapping the relevant points of the contract again. “It’s a base fee for the first show you help out with, and then a lesser fee for each show after that. Nice and straight forward. You’re free to walk whenever you want.”

“That’s a very generous set of terms.” Skitch commented.

Flim shrugged. “We know that we can’t keep you chained here. You’re tied to the Element Bearers. The minute something goes wrong, they’ll run off to face the evil whatever and I’d bet bits you’ll be right behind them.”

“This is not off base.” Skitch admitted with a nod.

“Well, that’s the whole ball of wax. Take it or leave it, its up to you.”

Skitch examined the contract again. While not a legal expert by any means, she had picked up a few terms and tricks from her father. Nothing stood out though. There were some clauses about her being liable if she actively tried to break the production, but that seemed more than reasonable. Grabbing the provided fountain pen, she quickly scribbled out her name on the contract.

“Excellent.” Flim smiled. “Let’s just get you a copy of the script-”

The door swung open at that moment and Skitch almost immediately wish that it hadn’t. The current bane of her existence, Nouveau Riche, swaggered into the office with his usual arrogant expression. Skitch had a running theory that the light brown earth pony was a form of karmic balance in her life. A kind of “Congratulations brony! You get to be friends with the Mane Six, but you also have to deal with this ass.” thing.

He was flanked by Duke (not Prince, apparently) Blueblood, who was his expected stuck up looking self.

“Riche.” She snarled, “I swear to all that’s holy if you’re here to mess with me-”

“Please. “ Riche snorted, rolling his eyes. “While you might find this hard to believe, not everything in this world revolves around you.”

“Oh.” Skitch blinked. “Then why are you here?”

“I have business with mister Flim.”

The door slammed open again, Pinkie Pie leaping into the room, determination etched on her features. “Nopony move!”

“Great.” Riche sighed, rubbing at his beard. “Did you bring the whole entourage?”

“Pinkie is not my entourage.”

“Yeah!”

Sighing, Nouveau Riche turned his attention back to Flim. “So, are you ready to accept my offer or not?”

“My brother and I still need a little more time….”

“You are running out of time!” Riche snapped, taking an angry step towards the desk. “You are on your last legs and everypony knows it. At least you’ll be able to walk away with something if you take my offer.”

“Wait…” Pinkie blinked, rapidly looking from Riche to Flim to Skitch. “What offer? What’s going on?”

Flim nervously squirmed in his seat, before hanging his head. “Things aren’t going well. This production is our last chance to turn things around, otherwise we have to sell.”

“And I could use the space for another bank branch.” Riche nodded.

“WHAT?” Pinkie shouted. She had closed the gap between her and Riche in the blink of an eye, and was almost nose to nose with the industrialist. “Y-you want to turn The Palace into a bank!?”

“Yes, I do.” He shrugged. “I mean, I’m no entertainer. If I tried to run this place, we’d be right back in the same boat. Banking is what I know, and banking is what I do.”

“B-But...you can’t!” Pinkie gasped. “This place has so much history! It’s started so many careers, so many great comedians!”

“And as fascinating as that is, if that actually meant anything they wouldn’t be hanging their hopes on one last musical. Now,” He placed a hoof on her chest, pushing her back. “While I understand that the Element of Laughter would be concerned, this is business.”

Pinkie stumbled backwards, quickly rushing to Skitch’s side.

“Look, Mister Riche.” Flim frowned. “We aren’t going to sell until we see how this production shakes out.”

Skitch blinked as Pinkie latched onto her, her eyes wide. “We can help, right Skitchy? They just need a hit!”

“Well...I guess? I can do the effects the best I can.”

“That’s right. I’d suggest you say out of this.” Riche frowned. “You couldn’t keep your house, I doubt you can do anything but help this production fail.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard.”

Skitch felt the fur on the back of her neck prickle as she glared daggers at the source of that particular situation. “I lost my house because you forced me into a foreclosure situation! That is literally the reason behind it! And now you’re basically doing the same thing to his business!”

“And your point is?”

Skitch gaped at that, while Pinkie looked ready to cry almost slumping to the ground.

“You are, without question.” Skitch growled. “The biggest ass I have ever met in my life.”

“Well, if my behavior bothers you so much, then how about we make a little wager?” Riche smirked, stroking his beard again. “If their next musical is a success, I’ll not only withdraw my offer on The Palace, I’ll give you that house of ‘yours’ back and issue a public apology.”

“Let me guess, and if I lose, I drop the lawsuit?”

“And leave Equestria. Really, I don’t care where you go, but you can’t stay here.”

Skitch frowned. She was pretty sure that the latter part of that bet would be entirely unenforceable, but if it would get her house back and help save something that meant so much to Pinkie....

“Okay Riche. I look forward into shoving this into your face.”

“Better ponies than you have tried.”

He and Blueblood strode from the room, Riche pausing at the door for a moment. “Oh, and Skitch? Don’t try to worm your way out of this. Things could become difficult for ponies who still have mortgages through my bank.

“I *hate* him.” Skitch hissed as the door snapped shut again. Turning to Flim, she waved a hoof at him. “Give me that script. I want to bury this guy.”

“Care to explain what the Tartarus that was?” Blueblood frowned, resolutely glaring at the back of Riche’s head as they trotted for the front door, Flim peeling off to check on something backstage.

“It’s part of the plan.” Riche answered with a shrug.

“Except for that bit at the end.” Blueblood continuing to glare at Riche. “I know full well that Sugarcube Corner and Carousel Boutique are held by your bank! You basically insinuated that you would go after the Elements of Harmony!” He hissed back, swooping in front of Riche with a few long strides. “You know, the ponies we all rely on should some monster from the past come roaring back to life! The leader of which, I will point out, Celestia treats almost like a surrogate daughter!”

Riche’s expression was neutral as he looked right back Blueblood. “And?”

“Did you not see what happened in Neigh Orleans?”

“I did Blueblood. I just don’t care.” He gave Blueblood a quizzical look, one eyebrow arched high. “I thought you wanted to be part of this?”

“Because I wanted a creature I viewed as a possible threat gone.” Blueblood countered. “But I will not move against the very ponies we depend on for our protection!”

“Oh, grow up.” Riche snorted. “They are six civilians. We have armies! Armies that we should be upgrading by the way, with new Dromedarian designs, rather than continuing to use spears and swords!”

“Something that Celestia is already considering. Or do you not care about that either.”

Riche grinned, lightly patting the side of Blueblood’s face. “You’re so adorable, Blueblood. You don’t even know what your situation actually is right now.”

“Do not touch me!” Blueblood hissed. “I am the Duke of Northwitch provence and I-”

“Am an obsolete societal construct.” Riche glared back. “Half of the land that your factories and other businesses are on? Owned by me. I got to where I am now without being born into the nobility, without having to deal with the chains of the noblesse oblige that you and the rest of your kind are chained with. Now, my friend” He grinned, “Are you in, or are you out?”

“Fine.” Blueblood frowned. “We’ll do this your way.”

“Very good.” Riche nodded. “I’ll see you later Blueblood.”

Blueblood watched Riche trot out of the building, his right eye twitching slightly. Once he was quite sure that Riche was gone, Blueblood headed out himself. He had a few telegrams to send.

Author's Note

New chapter! Woo hoo!

Equestria is currently undergoing a similar entertainment transition that happened to the earth based vaudeville. The rise of the movie industry out in Los Pegasus has been squeezing the theatre industry, forcing it to become smaller and more focused on the upper classes and the nobility. This has caused many Vaudeville performers to re-analyse their careers and seek new directions. That being said, the theatre scene in Manehatten is a little more healthy than in some of Equestria's other major cities.

Marigold Button is based off the legendary Milton Berle, who I first saw on an episode of The Muppet Show and who cut his teeth on Vaudeville. So, you can pretty much read all of his dialogue in the man's voice if you wanna look up some of his stuff on YouTube.

A Dry Run

Rarity approached the door, absentmindedly biting her lip.

She hesitated, her hoof hovering a few inches away from green painted wood. Somehow, anxiety was always on her mind when she talked to her father. She was wearing one of her more frilly dresses, perhaps almost as a challenge to her father’s desires for her to be more of a tomboy. Still, there was no real need to drag this out longer than it had to be.

Giving the door three sharp knocks, she idly fiddled with her mane for a moment, making sure it was as proper as it could be. It didn’t take long for the door to swing open, the familiar form of Magnum ready with his warm, but somewhat strained smile.

“Rarity!” He smiled, giving her a friendly nuzzle. “Glad that you could make it. How was the train ride?”

“Oh, it was quite fine.” She smiled back. “I came with some of my friends and we talked on the way.”

“Well, come in.” He nodded. Rarity followed Magnum into his hotel room. Much like the choice of the hotel itself, it was simply furnished and practical. He was still a farm pony at heart. “Did you want to get something to eat?”

“Maybe tomorrow.” Rarity politely smiled. “Your telegram said that you had some kind of offer for me?”

“I hope so at least.” Magnum frowned, rubbing at the back of his neck. “You’ve...uhh...really been making your fashion career work in Ponyville.”

“Well enough I suppose.” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Dad...did you ruin another suit?”

“I did not! ...Though I will need a new one anyway.”

“Why?”

“Because.” He grinned. “I’ve been chosen to coach the Equestrian team in next year’s World Cup!”

It took a moment for those words to sink into Rarity’s mind. The great hoofball tournament that took place every four years, like clockwork. And her father would be leading the Equestrian national team. In terms of his career as a professional hoofball coach, it was quite a feather in his metaphorical cap.

“Oh!” Rarity exclaimed, throwing her forelegs around her father’s neck. “That’s wonderful! I’ll get started right away! Something dark blue I think, maybe with a stylish red cravat to help pull it all together.”

“Well, there’s a tick more involved that just makin’ me look shiney.” He chuckled. “The team needs new uniforms. The last designs...well, let’s just say that they weren’t quite up to snuff. I want you to do the new ones.”

Rarity gasped, her heart fluttering in her chest. Her designs, on a truly international stage? Admittedly, she’d have to go more practical than her usual designs. Hoofball players had to run and kick and do all other kinds of impressive acrobatics. Not what she was used to doing, really, but well within in her skills. She’d have to get a look at the old ones of course. Both the originals and the failed redesign. Then she’d be able to create something really impressive-

Her father lightly tapping her horn brought her back to reality. “Oh! Sorry! Yes! I’d be more than happy to design the new team uniforms! I can get some supplies in the city, and perhaps even deliver a prototype before you head off to the next city.”

“That’s my little Stri- Rarity.” Magnum chuckled. “But we only have a few days before we’re heading out to Las Pegasus. Think you can do it?”

“Not a doubt in the world.” Rarity grinned. Her father was finally coming to her for fashion advice. He was finally accepting her life choices! “You know what dad? I would like to go get something to eat.”

“So, here’s your copy of the script.” Flim nodded, pulling a thick stack of pages from his desk. “You can use the office if you want. I have some other business that I really do need to see to. Once you’re done, join the rest of the cast and crew. We just might turn this around!”

“Sure thing.” Skitch nodded as she started to flip through the pages.

“What about me?” Pinkie asked, still hopping from hoof to hoof.

“Well, we don’t really have a set place for you. So…” He shrugged. “Do what feels natural?”

“Right!” She beamed. “Snacks for everypony!”

Without another word, she bounced right through the door, leaving a very confused and dizzy looking Flim on the floor. Skitch looked up from the script, unable to stop herself from chuckling.

“You get used to that.”

“If you say so kid.” Flim blinked, pulling himself back to his hooves. “I’ll be back later.” With that, he vanished out the sturdy oak door, leaving Skitch alone with the script. Humming to herself, she turned her attention back to the pages and began to read.

The title, The Darkness of the Crystal Empire, spoke to the subject matter. It started off simple enough, opening up in the Crystal Empire at the height of its power, into which the cast of characters soon entered. A pre-alicorn Princess Cadance was easy enough to recognize, as was a dark gray unicorn that was obviously King Sombra. What was a little more odd was the presence of Sombra’s wife and two sons.

“Huh…” Skitch blinked, thinking back to the angry, hissing, only five line speaking pony from the show she watched. “Some mare actually had sex with that? Willingly?” She shook her head. “Unbelievable.”

But as she read onwards, her lips twitched into a frown, which then deepened into a scowl. The further she got into this work, the more....Game of Thrones-y it was starting to read, with some less than pleasant characterizations.

CADANCE

Do you not understand, dear Sombra? The Crystal Throne must be held by somepony who is ready and willing to do what is needed to protect us from the griffin barbarians! There must be somepony ready and willing to destroy those feathered monsters!

(CADANCE slowly circles SOMBRA, the latter recoiling in horror.)

SOMBRA

Cadance? You can not be serious! What you speak of is nothing less than the deepest darkest treason!

Skitch rubbed the bridge of her snout and sighed. “All the subtlety of a Michael Bay film. Who wrote this crap?” Eager to find out the answer to that question, she flipped back to the cover, examining the name, only for her right eyebrow to rise so high, it threatened to vanish into her mane.

Obsidian Noctem Quill.

The writer was named Obsidian Noctem Quill.

Skitch did not pretend to be an expert on pony naming conventions. Heck, at the moment, she was named after the sound effect of a pencil on paper. She had also gone to college though. And a name like...Obsidian Noctem Quill sounded less like a writer and more like a bad college goth band.

“Hey,” She snarked, jumping back to the last page with a roll of her eyes. “We’re Obsidian Noctem Quill, and this is our new single ‘Feelings’.”

The joke didn’t make her feel any better though. In fact, the script was beginning to make her feel...uncomfortable. There was a growing tone in the words that was becoming disgustingly familiar, winding between the sentences like some kind of serpent. For as she reached the climax of the story, the pages proposed...no, downright accused Princess Cadance of actually being behind the disappearance of the Crystal Empire.

CADANCE

Goodbye my prince.

(CADANCE cackles as SOMBRA slams his hooves off the shimmering energy barrier, anguish on his face.)

SOMBRA

You’re mad! Mad! Mad I say! You can not sacrifice a whole nation to become an alicorn-

Skitch’s head hit the desk with a groan. “This fucking script. What did I do in a past life to be stuck working on the Equestrian equivalent of a Holocaust denial piece!”

Okay, maybe that was a little harsh. It was more “Historical Revisionism: The Musical, more redirecting blame, rather than claiming that the event had never happened. But that was still pretty beyond the pale, accusing Princess Cadance of being responsible for the disappearance of the Crystal Empire. When she finally reached the end of the play, she glanced up at the clock on the wall. It had taken her an hour and a half to work her way through the whole of the...very interesting creation.

“No wonder they’re they’re going out of business if this is what they’re producing.” She sighed, slowly rubbing her temples. “Stupid mouth running ahead of my brain.”

Flicking the script closed, she decided to head for the back stage and see just who she’d be working with. If there was going to be a chance to pull this off, they’d all have to be working in synch.

She couldn’t keep the nervous twitches out of her tail as the worked her way backstage though. The situation was beginning to escalate out of control, and while she was quite sure that Riche wouldn't actually be able to force her to leave Equestria, he could probably up the harassment campaign…. Banishing those thoughts with a shake of her head, she pushed her way through the stage curtain. Ponyville was, for now at least, her home. She wasn’t going to be driven away again. She wasn’t going to be...alone.

She could hear the rumble of conversation before she could see anyone. Trotting past the few dressing rooms, she came into a large open space that was half set construction room and half cast and crew meeting room. Said cast and crew were currently engaged in a flurry of conversation. Looking over the crowd of ponies, none of them seemed familiar to her Brony senses, though a few stood out.

A pegasus stallion with an orange coat and short blue mane was sitting at a piano, idly plinking at the keys with one hoof. Skitch guessed that he was in charge of the music, judging by the large pair of music notes that was his cutie-mark.

A pair of earth pony mares had the costumes under control. The first’s coat was a light pink, almost the color of an orchid flower. Her mane and tail were done up in ornate curls, not unlike Rarity’s, but held back with headband. Like Rarity’s it was also purple, but a paler shade. Her cutie-mark was three different colored buttons and a fancy light blue silk scarf was tied about her neck.

Her assistant- at least Skitch assumed that the other one was an assistant by her submissive body language - sported a cream colored coat, and a two-tone blue mane that was done up in a sweeping pixie like cut. Her cutie-mark was a fancy hat, and she wore a purple collar with a red tie.

A humanoid dog- obviously a Diamond Dog- was examining one of the sets. She was tall, towering a good foot above anyone else in the room. From Skitch’s point of view, it was as if someone had taken an Alaskan Malamute and made it bipedal. But she was decked out in a sturdy pair of work pants and a sturdy leather apron crammed with tools and she looked like she knew how to use them.

A hoof full of ponies were obviously actor types, and were mostly chatting with each other, save for one. She had a sun yellow coat, and a long light green mane. A white shawl was draped around her neck, her eyes darting every which way with a frantic and nervous energy. But as Skitch drew closer, the conversations stopped, and the assembled crowd turned to look at her at once. She froze, suddenly feeling very self conscious from the forest of appraising stares and a few angry glares.

“Uhh…. Hello.” She grinned. “I...umm...I’m not sure if you know who I am.”

“We know who you are kid.” A marigold maned stallion nodded. “You’re the human. And our director.”

“...Excuse me, what?” Skitch blinked, taking a shocked step back from the group. “I was hired to do special effects for this production.”

“No.” The diamond dog growled, brandishing a hammer like a weapon. “I do the sets. You are the director.”

Skitch’s mouth grew very dry as she looked at everyone, a sudden realization crashing down on her head.

“Vey is mir.” She cursed.

Rarity allowed herself a contented sigh, sinking in her seat slightly. Her father had found the most wonderful little corner bistro a few blocks from the hotel, near some of Manehatten’s newspapers. The onion and goat cheese tartlets had been exquisite.

“That was quite pleasant daddy. Thank you.”

“It was my pleasure.” He nodded. “I mean...we don’t get to talk all that often, what with my traveling and everything that you’re up to these days.”

There was a slight hesitation in his words, a familiar barest of winces that rippled across his muzzle. Rarity clenched her own jaw as she lifted a cup of tea, taking a long sip to avoid spitting out a biting remark over the father’s still obvious- to her at any rate- uncomfortable feelings over the direction her life had taken.

She quickly changed the subject. “So...the World Cup! That’s...really something! How did you get chosen?”

“Well,” He shrugged. “I was on a long list of applicants and Princess Celestia chose me. That was about it.”

“Oh.” Rarity frowned. So much for an involved conversation on that subject. “Well, I’m glad that you got the job...really. You’ve been working hard to get where you are.”

“You have too. Your own shop, hero of the realm. I’m...proud. Really.”

Despite his words, he looked away, staring out the window at the ponies that trotted past. Rarity frowned, ever so slightly, as she put her tea down. “Daddy. Do I still make you uncomfortable?”

He winced. “Rarity. Please.”

“I’m sorry daddy.” She sighed, tracing the tip of her hoof along the edge of the tea cup. “You helped pay for my transition! If you hated the idea of me becoming a mare-”

“Technically, it was more your mother’s idea….” He trailed off, eyes going wide

Rarity’s jaw dropped. Magnum groaned, rubbing his forehead, before sighing and shaking his head. “Look I want you to be happy.” He continued. “But...ahh hay, I’ll just come out and say it. It feels like you’ve completely turned your back on some of your old hobbies. When was the last time you looked at a hoof ball?”

“I’ve been busy focusing on my craft! It’s not easy to make it in the fashion world. And I have friends, and regular hobbies. Just because my tastes have changed doesn’t make my somehow wrong!”

“But you’re just…” He winced, rubbing the side of his snout. “So...girly. It’s hard to recognize you sometimes. It’s like you’ve...lost yourself.”

Rarity clenched her teeth, pushing away from the table. “Daddy...I am sorry. But if you’re still obsessed with my lack of playing sports as somehow being indicative of me no longer being your child, then I am not sure what else I can do.”

Without another word, she stomped out of the restaurant, leaving her father alone. She was fuming. Once again a meeting with her father had gone sideways, because he still wanted his little hoofball player and just…

The flash of a camera bulb cut through her train of thought and she turned towards it with a raised eyebrow. She immediately did a double take for standing in front of one of the large newspaper skyscrapers, at a podium, was Skitch-Sketch. Reporters were crowding around her as she prepared to make some kind of announcement.

“What on Equis?”

Rushing across the street, she slid to a stop behind the wall of reporters. “Skitch!” She frantically waved a hoof, trying to get her attention. “What are you doing!”

“My fellow Equestrians!” She began, grinning wide and ignoring Rarity. “I stand before you today a lost bit of driftwood upon the flotsam and jetsam of time. I endeavour to no longer stand apart from Equestria, but to be a part of it! And to that end, to show that I understand the history of this great planet and it’s peoples, I shall direct a musical about the fall of the Crystal Empire! That shall be unlike anything any pony has ever seen!”

As a mummer rippled through the crowd, Rarity couldn’t believe what she was seeing. There was absolutely no way that pony was her friend. Skitch didn’t talk like that, she wouldn’t call such attention to herself.

“Rarity!” Pinkie Pie was suddenly at Rarity’s side, a large pink box balanced on top of her head. “Why’s some pony pretending to be Skitchy?”

“She’s talking about the musical.” Rarity frowned.

“As my first production,” the false Skitch continued. “Does revolve around the Crystal Empire, I would like to invite Princess Cadance to the grand opening in a few days time. And I invite all of you to the grand opening as well! Come and see what the human turned pony has created!”

The crowd immediately exploded into a flurry of questions, but “Skitch” simply turned around and walked into the building. The questions turned into curses and groans, the reporters breaking apart to return to their own newspapers and radio stations.

Rarity blinked in confusion, while Pinkie Pie stood uncharacteristically still for a moment. Something was going horribly wrong.

I am going to kick the asses of those two con ponies from one side of the damn island to the other. Skitch mentally raged. An annoyed twitch had started up in her right eye, while the marigold maned pony had slowly explained how Flim and Flam were hardly in danger of losing The Palace. Quite the contrary in fact. Perfect Pegasus Productions was a major player in the growing Las Pegasus film industry.

“Okay...right.” She groaned, resisting the urge to beat her head against the wall. “If we’re all stuck together for now, how about everyone-”

“Everypony.” Someone corrected.

Skitch shot an icy glare that pony’s direction. “It means the same damn thing! And its shorter than saying everypony or everycreature, okay? Now, can everyone tell me who they are and what they do?”

The marigold pony who spoke before went first, giving a quick nod. “I’m Marigold Button. Veteran of this little place we call Vaudeville. I’m stuck playing Sombra in this disaster.” He waved a hoof towards the green maned mare from before. “This is Spring Fields. She’ll have the role of Princess Cadance.”

“Pleased to meet you both.” Skitch nodded, taking a step forward and extending her hoof in greeting. The reaction from Spring Fields was immediate, her eyes bugging out, hooves almost tripping over each other in a mad scramble backwards.

“You won’t eat my brain!” She shrieked, hiding behind a few of the other actors. “I don’t care if you are the director!”

“You’ll have to forgive her.” Marigold deadpanned. “She’s been reading far too many tabloids.”

“Lemme guess.” Skitch deadpanned back. “All the ones that say I’m some kind of horrible monster in the skin of a pony here to destroy you all?”

“I’m onto you!” She shouted.

“Right. Quick survey then. Everyone who thinks I’m a monster, raise a hoof.” About a quarter of the crew and actors raised their hooves. “Oh yeah. This is going to be great!”

“Moving on…” Marigold sighed, waving a hoof towards the pair at near the costumes. “Let me introduce you to our costume department. Suri Polomare and her assistant Coco Pommel.”

The pink one, Suri, waved a hoof at her. “Hey there. Soooo looking forward to working on a big Manehatten production!” She giggled. “Mkay?”

“Glad to hear that.”

“Finally.” Marigold nodded towards the Diamond Dog. “This is Glittering Quartz. She’s in charge of making the sets.”

The diamond dog dipped her head Skitch’s way, but still with an angry glower on her face. “I do the sets. And the effects.” She growled.

“Okay, okay, jeese.” Skitch winced. “Sorry that I intruded on your territory or whatever.” She waved a hoof at the bored looking pegasus. “Who are you?”

“Flash Sentry.” He answered, the disdain clear in his voice and attitude. “I do the music.”

“You’ll have to forgive everypony kid.” Marigold frowned. “Most of us are well aware of the career suicide that we’ve found ourselves stuck in.”

“Speak for yourself.” Suri fired back. “So long as my outfits are totally fab, my career will be just fine.”

“I’m overjoyed.” Marigold glared.

“I don’t suppose that just up and leaving is an option at this point?” Skitch frowned. “I mean, it’s pretty obvious what’s going on here.”

“Yeah kid.” Marigold sighed. “Our careers are being sacrificed to deal with you. And you can’t just walk away both from a noble, and the most powerful production company in Equestria. It would be as damaging to our reputations as doing a bad play. At least this way we can conceivably blame you and the writer.”

“The writer.” Skitch frowned, her eyes sweeping the crowd again. “Where is this Obsidian Noctem Quill?”

“He’s been here for the cold reads.” Spring Fields sniffed. “But he always wanders in whenever he wants. He’s as insane as you are.”

“Oh.” Skitch grit her teeth. “Now I’m insane! Anymore slings you wanna throw at before we start working together?”

“You’ll never eat my brain!”

“You'd need to have one first!”

A discordant chorus of notes rang out as Flash Sentry’s head hit the keys of his piano. “We are so doomed.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not going down without a fight.” Skitch frowned. “All actors, grab your scripts and head for the stage for a dry run. Maybe we can turn this into a satire or something, I dunno.”

The actors grumbled, clearly as displeased with the situation as she was, but shuffled towards the stage all the same. Skitch followed along, grumbling right along with them. Once Flim and Flam showed their faces in the building again, she’d give them what for. They had barely finished setting foot on stage when a familiar voice called out.

“Skitch, darling!”

Rarity and Pinkie dashed towards her, Pinkie somehow managing to balance a pink box of snacks on her mess of curls.

“What’s wrong girls?” Skitch frowned. “You look like you saw something that I’m going to hate.”

“We saw you!” Pinkie gasped, launching into a rapid fire tirade. “Another you was giving a press conference and she was like ‘I will do an amazing musical!’ and you invited Princess Cadance to come-”

The crowd immediately descended into an uproar.

“We have to do this travesty for a princess?”

“Not just a princess! The very one we’re slandering!”

“Stop it! We don’t know if she’s actually coming yet-”

“Oh, shut up! Just because your career’s already dead-”

“QUIET!” Skitch bellowed, slamming her forehooves against the stage floor to restore order. “Can we please actually run through this thing before we start falling into complete bedlam? Someone get the curtain up.” She growled, stalking her way to a seat in the front row.

Plopping down in a random seat, Rarity and Pinkie joined her in their own as the curtain rose. With a sigh and sense of dread, Skitch cracked the script open to the first page. “Act one, scene one. Go!”

One hour and thirty minutes later, the dry run was completed and Skitch had buried her face in her hooves. Rarity sat back in her seat, jaw dropped in horror and Pinkie Pie had her head cocked in confusion at what they had just finished seeing.

“I never would have pictured Cadance mass imprisoning ponies.” Pinkie eventually spoke up.

“Or trying to murder somepony.” Rarity added.

“Historical revisionism, the musical.” Skitch practically snarled, pulling her hooves away from her face. “I don’t want to deal with this right now.” Waving a hoof at the stage, she continued, putting a bit more volume into her voice. “Okay everyone, we’re done for the day. We’ll pick this up tomorrow morning.”

The cast and crew filed out of the building and the moment the last one left, Skitch slid out of her seat. “I’ll meet you two back at the hotel.” She frowned. “I...I need some time to think. Alone.”

Before they had a chance to object, Skitch galloped out the doors and into the city. She needed a drink.

Author's Note

Poor Skitch is going to become an alcoholic at this rate. And poor Rarity. It's rough when family doesn't entirely support your life choices. And poor Pinkie! She might see a place she's looked up to for most of her life go away.

Really, there's a lot of poorness going around in this chapter. And we can also recognize a few ponies from post Season 3 in the crowd. Interesting that Skitch didn't really react to them like some of the other familiar faces, eh? And I do fully expect to catch some hate for including Flash Sentry in here, but I think I got a take on his character that'll be more interesting than what we saw in Equestria Girls.

Or, you know, he'll go over like a non-Mythbuster's made lead balloon, I'll shove him off stage and we'll never speak of him again.

Booze and Beds

Author's Note

Welcome to the first chapter with a song in it!

There was a bit of back and forth debate in my head on how to handle it, and I ended up going with a kind of split decision. I included a link to the tune, worked into the text, immediately before the song. I also typed out my edited lyrics and color coded them to each singer.

Blueblood is blue. Upper Crust is yellow. Fleur de Lis is pink. And all of them together are green.

This is kind of an experiment on how to do these kinds of things in my fics. So, be honest with me on what works and what doesn't and I'll change things if need be!

Booze and Beds

There was a certain rhythm to cities. When the sun dipped below the horizon and the post work commutes came to their winding ends, the second life of a city began. Restaurant dinner rushes began and the bars and nightclubs threw their doors open to the public. Friends would wander the streets to drink and carouse, young lovers would go on dates and the owners of night time businesses would gladly serve all of them.

Skitch wandered through that rhythm, her hooves pounding out a regular pattern against the concrete streets. Other ponies passed her, going both directions on their way to their own destinations, but one thing stood out on her mind as she worked her way through Manehatten.

No one was looking at her.

Part of her wondered why. She had seen every newspaper that had reached Ponyville- feeding a press machine that was very reminiscent of the yellow journalism of earth’s own 1900’s- so she could only imagine what kind of coverage would exist in a major metropolis that probably had a half dozen papers at least.

But the more she stomped on, the more she began to realize that there were plenty of reasons why they might not be reacting. They had their own problems and destinations in mind, perhaps. Or maybe some of the creatures that passed her in the street just didn’t believe she was dangerous. Approaching things from the ever trusty tool of logic however, there was a simpler explanation.

A lack of recognition.

It was night out, and even with the electric lights that lined the streets it was probably easy to confuse her with some other pony. After all, Skitch reasoned out, green was probably not an uncommon coat color and there were probably hundreds of ponies with art related cutie-marks. It wasn’t like she some black and red alicorn that would stick out like a sore thumb. She blended.

Which lead to the question of what she’d do in two years when she could finally change back to human. Ponyville probably wouldn’t care. They had gotten used to her already, so she doubted that a sudden change in size and stature would do anything to change that. ...She hoped so at least.

But outside that town? Would she be gawked at by everypony every time she set foot outside of Ponyville? Would she even be allowed out of Ponyville?

“Don’t be stupid.” She muttered to herself. “Celestia lets changelings live in Equestria with full rights. She wouldn’t lock you up just for being human.”

Of course, that was down the line, and right now she had to deal with yet another noble attempt to ruin her life. And in the immediate, immediate, she had to find someplace to get a drink.

The sound of horns punched through her misery, their brassy notes buzzing through the night air like a swarm of bees. Skitch snapped her head towards the music, the airy ringing taps of someone keeping time on cymbals and the melodic plinks of a piano rising to join the horns.

The growing crescendo of music flowed through the partially open doors of a club set on a corner of two streets. A rectangular sign- as green as her coat- jutted out from the brick facade of the building, proudly declaring itself as The Black Orchid in brass colored letters. Through the wide glass windows flanking the polished wooden entrance doors she could see dozens of creatures eating, drinking and listening to whoever was playing. It seemed like an interesting place, all things considered. Good enough place to get a drink at any rate.

She had just finished crossing the street with a sudden realization came crashing down on her head.

“My saddlebags are back at the freaking hotel!” She groaned. And her money pouch was in said saddlebags. Which meant no dinner or drinks. “Fuck it.” She sighed, turning about to head back to the hotel.

“Miss Skitch-Sketch?”

She blinked, finding herself face to face with the orange coated stallion from the theatre, Flash Sentry. He was flanked by the diamond dog set builder, Glittering Quartz.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, head cocked.

“Well, I was going to get a drink, but I left my cash back at the hotel.” Skitch sighed. “So, I’m going to go back there and try to forget today has happened.”

“Left it at the hotel huh?” Flash frowned, rubbing his chin with the back of a hoof. “Tell you what, bring the cash with you tomorrow, and I’ll cover you tonight.”

Quartz blinked at that raising an eyebrow at her friend. “Why are you doing this?”

“All of our necks are on the line together.” Flash shrugged. “We should at least be able to find equal relief from alcohol and swing jazz.”

Quartz rolled her eyes but smirked all the same. “Very well. We shall all drink and collapse together like brothers and sisters in arms!”

Skitch followed them inside with a shrug of her own, her ears instinctively flicking back at the sudden surge of volume. The club itself was basically a diagonally angled rectangle, the bar itself on the left wall, while polished hard wood tables and black upholstered seats filled the rest of the room. The exception to this seemed to be the square dance floor that was right in front of the stage. The stage itself was flanked by doors. Ponies balancing trays streamed in and out of it, dancing their way through the tables to deliver food or stopping at the bar to pick up drinks.

And on the stage a jazz band played. At the lead, a lion blared away on a trumpet moving and bobbing his head in time with the beat. A fresh cut rose was tucked into the front pocket of his pale blue button up dress shirt, whose sleeves had been rolled back. Streaks of gray stood out in his dark mane, giving him a distinguished look that- in Skitch’s mind at least- helped give the impression of a man that put the experiences of his life into his music.

The rest of the band was ponies. Two rows of horns backed up the lead, blaring out their own accompaniment, all in matching pale blue shirts with little red bowties, while a final -similarly dressed- stallion tapped out a tune on a pair of symbols. The last member of the orchestra stood out the most, however.

A tea colored mare hammered out her own series of notes on a piano, her hooves dancing over the keys with a liquid quickness, summoning notes that rose and merged with the lion’s trumpet to form a wall of sound.

Half a dozen sets of hooves spun and kicked upon the dance floor. Young and old couples enjoying the night out as they boogied their cares away. Even the patrons still in their chairs seemed to be enjoying the show.

All in all, it was a club full of energy and life where the creatures of the city could kick back and relax, which was exactly what she needed right now. Flash Sentry lead the way picking one of the tables near the wall, about halfway towards the stage.

“You’re kind of lucky.” Flash nodded, sinking into a seat. “You wandered your way straight to one of the hottest clubs in town.”

“I have a knack for supreme coincidence.” Skitch sighed, plopping down next to him. “I’m guessing you know this place?”

“When it comes to jazz and swing music, this is the place to be.” Flash shrugged, waving a hoof for a waiter. “So, what’ll you have?”

“In my mind, there is only one kind of spirit to be drunk when you’re aiming to drown your sorrows. Whiskey. And lots of it. ...And maybe a salad.”

While Canterlot was the capital of Equestria, and its central most province (which included Ponyville) each one of the nations sub-divisions had its own center of administration. The Northwitch province sat- appropriately enough- to the northeast of Canterlot, with Manehatten as its center of government.

Duke Blueblood- being the ruler of said province- maintained property in the city, despite the fact that most of his job involved working with the other nobles and lawmakers in Canterlot. But tonight, his Manehatten brownstone was rather busy compared to its usual state. Blueblood sat in the west drawing room (that was where the private telegraph was after all), a glass of port balanced on one of his hooves. One of his favorite records played in the background while he thought.

The room was decorated in a mix of styles. Thick circular rugs imported from Inj and Turkiyya sat atop hardwood floors, while all of the furniture was carved from the finest Taparian woods. Paintings and banners, all depicting the history of his family line, were the main decorations; though a pair of dueling blades hung over the white marble fireplace.

At his side, resting atop a small mahogany table, was a collection of telegraphs. Correspondences hurriedly exchanged back and forth to his fellow conspirators. He had sent messages to everypony, explaining just what Nouveau Riche had implied about the Element Bearers and said about the nobility in general. The response had been almost unanimous across the board.

Riche had stepped over the line and needed to be taken down.

Upper Crust- who had been in Manehatten on business of her own- stood on her hind legs by the fireplace, tapping a pattern out upon the mantle. She was considering the same problem as Blueblood. How to arrange the fall of one of Equestria’s most powerful bankers.

“Where’s Fleur?” Upper Crust asked eventually, angrily slamming her hoof down. “I thought she was going to assist us?”

“I’m sure she’ll be along,” Blueblood answered evenly. “That pony comes and goes as she pleases.”

“Hmmph.” Crust fell back to all four legs, trotting over to the drinks cabinet and beginning to rummage. “Where’s your brandy? You had a full bottle last time I was here.”

“That was months ago. I drank it.”

Hoof falls echoed in the hallway, an elegant white coated unicorn trotting into view a moment later. Fleur de Lis nodded to each pony in turn as she entered the room.

“Gentlestallions. I am so dreadfully sorry that I’m late. Do we have a solution yet?”

“Nope. Blueblood also drank all the brandy.”

“It was my brandy to drink!”

“Boys, calm down.” Fleur smiled, daintily joining Upper Crust next to the liquor cabinet. “Oh dear...you’re out of scotch too?”

Blueblood rolled his eyes. “Can we please discuss things other than my alcohol supply?”

“Just because you never keep it properly stocked around here my darling blueblood.”

“Focus, please!”

“Yes, yes.” Fleur waved a hoof. “It seems to me that the path is obvious. We need Riche’s attention focused elsewhere so that we can go after what he cares about most. His money.”

Blueblood raised an eyebrow. “It seems that you already have an angle my dear.”

“I cooked it up on the way over.” She smiled. “After your message informed me about the situation. For as long as Riche is focused on the human he’ll be blinded to us...he’s far too obsessed with the dear. She will be the thorn in his side.”

“There is one problem with that.” Blueblood frowned. “She’s been backed into a situation where she can’t win.”

“Can we change the nature of the game?” Upper Crust asked, continuing to rummage through the bottles. One was finally extracted with a smile. “Ahh, bourbon.”

Blueblood leaned back in his seat. Upper Crust and Fleur were both correct in their own way. Riche was obsessed with the human, he presumed because she lived in the same town as his granddaughter. If it looked like Skitch had the chance to make the musical a success, Riche would- logically- try to interrupt that. But so long as Flim and Flam were in charge….

He hurriedly shuffled through the stack of telegrams from the other nobles. There had been a particular piece of correspondence he noticed earlier. “Ha!” He laughed, slamming his hoof on the missive. “There it is! Duke Glitter Gold is on our side.”

Glitter Gold controlled the province in which the city of Los Pegasus- and thusly the burgeoning Equestrian film industry- sat. Perfect Pegasus Productions had been expanding aggressively into that area, moving away from their theatre roots.

“We apply leverage against Flim and Flam. Force them to step back and let Skitch run the production on her own. That will infuriate Riche and give us the opening we need.”

“What do we do with it though?” Upper Crust frowned.

“His banks.” Fleur smiled. “They are the heart of his empire. We take them from him.”

“How?” Crust frowned.

Blueblood smirked. “The Lernerian Society. Riche hired them to impersonate Skitch-Sketch. We use them to gut his company from within. Bad loans, bad investments, selling stock in his company to ourselves and our friends. All of it.”

“Excellent!” Fleur beamed. “I shall make contact with the Society.”

“I will stay close to Riche,” Blueblood declared, raising his glass to his friends. “And I will keep his focus off his business.”

“And I will coordinate things with our fellows,” Upper Crust nodded. A glass of bourbon was quickly poured and raised as well. “Perhaps I can even get Skitch’s lawyer involved.

“To our endeavours,” Blueblood declared. “And what is best for Equestria.”

As the alcohol was thrown back with a chorus of cheers, the record that had been steadily spinning away rolled over to one of Blueblood’s favorite songs. A smile forming on his muzzle as the horns began to play, the duke couldn’t help but feel a song rising in his chest.

We are friends are we not?

Upper Crust blinked for a moment, but then picked up the tune with a smirk.

And our interests are the same!

We collaborate, Fluer joined in.

And trust in fate to parcel out the blame!

There are ends we’ve all got, that can justify the means,

We negotiate

Then fabricate the facts behind the scenes.

Keeping all the details vauge and secrets hidden.

Upper Crust puffed up her chest as she rolled onto the next verse.

Safe from the balance sheet of those you trust!
Because history is a story told by the winners fight!
You imply a little

Lie a little
Testifying

Ruin a little
Banker

Who’s going to question what goes on in the middle of the night? Blueblood questioned, glancing about the room.
Not a tinker
Not a tailor
Not his family or Celestia

Or a jailer?

So we all are agreed?
Let’s be vigilant and wise.

We must all pretend our riche friend was caught in his own lies.
For our plan to succeed, to make that stallion broke
Neouveu Riche’s banks must go up in smoke!

Where he’ll find his vaults empty and bare
Not a single coin to his name!

Because history’s a story told by those who make the laws! Fleur cackled, throwing her head back.

We supply a little lie

To help the gullible to buy a little fable.

What will become of the righteous ones who fashioned Riche’s flaws?
The rich
and well respected
shall not be ejected from our table

I’ll be a comfort in her time of shame and anger, Blueblood smiled, staring out a window for a moment.
I’ll be Celestia’s ever faithful acolyte
Every night!

Though part of me wishes Riche didn’t have to languish

But I can see, its him or me

Let him sit there and rot until he’s forgot

Let him rot!

History’s a story told by those who survive!

Let me sign and then initial

It’s the truth if it’s officially the story.

What if the cost is one pony so three more can survive?

He’s the price we have to pay.

So live and fight another day for love and glory!

He was standing in the way!
A threat to justice every day!

So goes the story!

Stick to the story!

Here ends the story! All three ponies finished in a gleeful chorus, falling back into their seats with satisfied and devious, smiles.

Flash Sentry’s eyebrow threatened to disappear into his mane as Skitch slung back another shot. The unicorn was drinking more like a minotaur, drinks disappearing down her gullet with an almost reckless abandon.

“Miss Skitch? I think you’ve had enough.” He declared at the thump of another glass hitting the table.

“What?” She blinked. “Why?”

“Because. You’re already drunk.”

“Quite.” Quartz added, before taking a sip of her own ale.

Skitch hiccuped, swaying slightly in her seat. “Na...na, I’mma okay. I know my limits.”

Flash highly doubted that. But before he could voice that fact, Skitch jabed a shaky hoof at him across the table. “What kinda name is Flash Sentry anyway?” She demanded, swaying sharply in her seat this time. “Yer cutie-marks are notes.”

Up went the other eyebrow. “Says the human currently wearing a pony body and using a pony name.”

Her ears flicked back, pressing almost flat against her head. “Ah-ah come on,” She raised her forehooves defensively. “That...that’s just not fair. I mean...how rediculoush would I look running around with a human name when I’m a pony?”

She giggled with drunken abandon, suddenly grabbing her own tail. “I mean, lookit this! I has a tail! And it’s all soft and fluffy an’ swishy. I would not desp...despagae...insult this tail with a human name.”

Glittering Quartz let loose a bark like laugh, throwing her head back. “Yes. You are quite thoroughly drunk! Sober creatures are not so obsessed with their own appendages!”

“H-hey! I neva had a tail before!” Skitch argued back, leaning forward and almost face planting onto the table. “Besides...tails are cool.” She continued with a sharp nod of her head. “It’s like a whole nother part of my body I can emote with.”

“As the mare says.” Glittering nodded.

“Bah.” Skitch snorted waving a hoof at Flash. “I thought we talkin’ about you pretty boy. Come on. There’s gotta be a story about those flank tattoos.”

“I don’t really know you well enough to talk about that.”

“Come on! Tell me!”

“Nope.”

“Do it.”

“No.”

“Dooooo itttt!”

Flash rolled his eyes. “Fine. My dad was Blazing Sentry, and his dad was Stalwart Sentry. They were both tied to the military. Grandad was in the army, and dad was in the Royal Guard.”

Skitch nodded, blinking blearily through her alcohol induced haze.

“Naturally, being from a military family there was a lot of pressure for me to continue in their hoof steps. Hence the name. But I’ve always liked music. Writing and humming tunes at home. So, I followed my family’s desires...just long enough to get my Guard Bill. Then I went to school for my true passion.” He shrugged. “I’ve been thinking about legally changing my name.”

Skitch smiled, leaning forward slightly. “That...sounds nice. Thought of anything yet?”

“Crashing Crescendo!” He answered, sweeping a hoof dramatically through the air.

Skitch blinked, then snorted. Then she launched into a full fledged cackle rocking back and forth in her chair. Flash glowered, doing his damndest to ignore the light pokes in the side from Glittering.

“I told you,” She lightly laughed. “Pay up.”

“Later.” He pouted.

“That shounds like a bad music based superhero!” Skitch giggled, wiping tears from her eyes. “Here comes the Crashing Crescendo to save the day!”

“Thanks for that,” Flash sighed. “Really, thanks.”

“Ah, why so serious Flashie?” Skitch chuckled, waving one of the servers over. “I mean...I get it. You want a name that...fits better.”

Flash’s cheeks burned from the ribbing, but he gave a simple bob of his head in a form of response. Skitch nodded, glancing up at the server that was at her side. “More whiskey please.”

Flash frowned. Skitch was obviously not aware of her own limits and if she kept going, she could possibly hurt herself. Best to focus her attention on something else.

“Actually,” Flash interrupted, sharing a quick glance with Glittering. “How about you join me on the dance floor?”

“The dance floor?” Skitch deadpanned. “Yeah, no. I’ll just stay here with my booze.”

Sliding out of his chair, Flash gently took one of Skitch’s fetlocks in his hooves. “Come on. You’ve drank enough for the night.” Pulling her away from the table, he led the drunk unicorn over to the dance floor.

Glittering Quartz watched them go, making a cutting motion with her paw as she faced the server again. “That unicorn? She doesn’t get served anymore tonight.”

“Yes mam.”

Taking a spot on the outside edge of the group of dancing ponies, Flash gave Skitch his friendliest smile. “So, ever danced before?”

Skitch half blinked, half glared at him. “I was crap at dancin’ on two legs, let alone four of the stupid things.”

“Come on.” He grinned back, giving her a slight poke. “Just give it a try.”

Still glowering, Skitch raised one of her hooves and gave it a little shake before putting it back down. Then she lifted the next one and did the same, and so on down the line until she was doing a repeating circuit of hoof shakes.

“Really?” Flash deadpanned. “Does that pass as dancing for you humans?”

“Hey, lay off!”

“Come on! Put some motion into your rump! Move your whole body!”

Skitch rolled her eyes but began to sway and shake a little more energetically, even tossing her head in rhythm to the music. A slight smile crossed Flash’s muzzle as he danced with her. They might all be backed into a corner by nobles because of her, but she didn’t seem like a bad mare...human...whatever. She was willing to fight for them at least.

Skitch began to dance a little faster now, closing her eyes and throwing herself into the music. She trotted back and forth, bobbing her head up and down. Flash matched her moves with his own...to the best of his ability at any rate. Skitch’s intoxicated state lead to a great deal of random twitches, half-bucks and shakes that it was hard to keep up with her.

“See? Not that hard.”

Ignoring his comment, she reared up on her hind legs, raising her forelegs above her head. Waving them back and forth, she began to twirl in place. Flash blinked, taking a half step backwards as he noticed something.

She was crying.

Tears leaked from the edges of her eyes as she tried to choke back sobs, but she danced all the harder and faster, whipping into a crazed series of thrashes as she continued to twirl. But she was off balance, and went crashing to the floor on her third twirl.

“Skitch? What was that?”

“I ‘unno,” She muttered, blinking through her tears. “I just...I ‘unno.”

And with another hiccup, she passed out.

Flash shook his head as Glittering sauntered her way over to the pair. The diamond dog tisked at the unconscious pony. “She’s fun to watch at any rate.”

“She’s staying at a hotel, and I have no idea which one it is.” Flash sighed.

“So? We take her back to our place,” Glittering shrugged. “You’ll both be heading back to the theatre in the morning anyway.”

“You want me to bring a strange mare into my apartment?”

Glittering opened her mouth to argue that point but then paused. “Yes.” She admitted with a shrug of her shoulders.

Flash rolled his eyes. “Fine. Can you help me with her?”

Glittering plucked Skitch off the floor, carefully draping her across Flash’s back. The unicorn muttered something in her sleep, clinging tightly to her carrier like a lifeboat. Flash sighed, but shook his head. “Come on, let’s go home.”

Rarity’s pencil did a complicated little pirouette on the page, propelled both by her magic and a distinctly apathetic streak from the pony that was trying to control it. Sitting near one of the windows of their hotel room, Rarity scribbled designs with no enthusiasm.

The words that she had flung her father’s way echoed in her mind, suddenly feeling ashen in her mouth. Her father cared, she knew that; he just had an odd way of showing it. But somewhere, in his heart of hearts, he still wanted her to be a sports star, not a fashionista.

Perhaps it was a side effect of having a friend whose life had been so radically altered by outside forces, but Rarity found her mind wandering towards the realm of “what ifs” and “could have beens”. Her parents would have supported her transition. Of that, she was sure. It was just everything else that was playing out through her mind.

“And now, the center forward for the Canterlot Cavaliers, the ravishing rampage herself, Rarity!”

Rarity trotted out onto the pitch, the roar of the crowd echoing in her ears. Giving her perfectly coifed mane a casual toss, she casually sauntered over to center pitch, enjoying the fit of her custom sewn uniform-

No, she mentally sighed, pushing the daydream aside. It was foolish to think that if her life had gone that way, that she’d still be the same mare, just wrapped in a hoofball player’s skin. She would have been a different pony, with different tastes, likes and dreams. Returning to her mental wanderings, the dream corrected itself.

She rushed out onto the pitch with a wide, energetic grin. Mane and tail were shorter now, and straight, the former pulled back into a simple braid. Her uniform hugged her sleek, well toned, almost Rainbow Dash-esq figure. Sliding to a halt at center pitch, she paused to give the crowd an appreciative wave, before turning to face the opposing team’s center.

“I am going to destroy you darling!”

No, that wasn’t right either. Far too refined. How would Rainbow Dash say it?

“I am going to punt you from one end of this damn field to the other!”

Better.

The whistle blew and the ball arched through the air, propelled by a powerful kick from the referee. Rarity rushed forward, neatly using the side of her horn to stop the ball and drop it at her hooves.

She turned into a white blur, streaking across the field, slaloming between defenders. They whipped past her, nothing more than blurs of color as she drove towards the net. The crowd was cheering her on, the roar growing louder and louder as she prepared to score….

The door to the room slammed shut, Rarity jumping in her seat. Pinkie Pie trotted into the room, a pizza box clutched in her mouth. She placed it on one of the many tables in the room, before plopping down next to Rarity. Her presence reminded Rarity of the other thing that was bothering her.

“Did you find out where Skitch went, darling?”

“She bumped into Flashy and Glittering and they all went to a club.” The party pony chirped. “So I grabbed some dinner on the way back.”

“Are you sure that’s wise? Considering her mood….”

Pinkie smiled- a little sadly- but it was a smile all the same. “She needs some space. Maud, Marble and Limestone were like that growing up.”

Rarity frowned, glancing down at her collection of random doodles. “Pinkie...can I ask you something?”

“Always!” Pinkie beamed.

“When we first met after we became Twilight’s friends...did you recognize me? From our old home town?”

“Yuppers!” Pinkie beamed. “I mean...maybe not right away. But then it all just clicked in my head one day and I realized you were that little colt I saw running around Rocky Gulch!”

Rarity wistfully sighed the dusty streets of her old home playing through her mind. “Rocky Gulch...I still can’t believe they named the town that, even if it was a center of the rock farming community. Its just so...cliche!”

Pinkie giggled. “But there were a whole lot of rocks! And it was in a gulch!”

“It was in a small valley!” Rarity laughed. “That’s not the same thing as a gulch!”

Pinkie shrugged. “It’s totally kind of a gulchy thing! It’s a shape in the earth that’s kinda like a V. Gulch!” She tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing at her fashionista friend. “But why bring it up? I mean, it’s all dusty and not...you.”

“My father and I...had words.” Rarity sighed. “Or, perhaps more accurately, I threw words his way.” Pinkie nodded, gently sliding the pizza box closer to Rarity with her nose while she kept talking. “It’s just...I do act...very feminine. I have stepped completely away from who I was, and some of the things I learned when I was a colt.”

“And your dad’s worried about that and thinks that something’s wrong?” Pinkie asked. "Had all these plans for you growing up?"

Rarity blinked. “Well...yes.” She frowned.

Pinkie nodded, the sad smile returning to her muzzle. “I guess I got lucky. When I left the farm to move to Ponyville, mom and dad still had my other sisters to run it.”

“Your father wanted you to keep running the farm?”

“Yuppers. Well...one of us at least. The rock farm...well, it’s the family business. Mom and dad worked hard to make it what it was. They want it to stay with us, instead of getting bought by some other rock farmer.”

Rarity sighed, flipping the pizza box open and helping herself to a slice loaded with veggies. It was warm, with just the right amount of crunch and salt. Pinkie made a good choice, it seemed. “I suppose,” She spoke up again, after dabbing at her muzzle with a napkin. “That I’m wondering if he’s at least...partially correct. I did completely change my life.”

“Rarity.” Pinkie smiled, resting her hooves on Rarity’s. “No matter what you want to do, or who you wanna be, you’ll be the best Rarity you can be! Nothing can change that, and if you’re happy, then I’ll be happy for you.”

Rarity blinked, then giggled, leaning forward to give Pinkie a hug. “Thank you Pinkie. Your confidence in me...well, it means a lot.”

“You’re my friend you silly filly!” She nodded, snatching up a slice of pizza for herself. “And I and Twilight and Rainbow and Skitchy and Fluttershy and Applejack and Spike will all support you! And you’ll support us. It’ll be a support of supportyness!”

“Quite right darling.” Rarity smiled, helping herself to another slice. “Which brings us to our current situation. There are still a good many ponies in the metaphorical line of fire if we can’t work out a way to deal with the issue of this production. Somepony was obviously impersonating her with the reporters.”

Pinkie nodded in agreement. “But if the musical is a success, then they’d look reeaaaalllyy silly.”

“True, darling, but that’s not going to happen with Princess Tyrantance, now is it?”

“No.” Pinkie admitted, glaring at the pizza box like it was somehow its fault. “It’s not. And the brother’s lied to us, so they’re probably in on that jerk’s plans!”

“There has to be some solution.” Rarity frowned, turning her attention back to her sketchbook and making another stab at doing some uniform designs.

“Well,” Pinkie frowned, tapping her chin. “Applejack probably wouldn’t like it, but we could always...well...lie.”

“Lie?”

“Yup!” She beamed, beginning to bounce in her seat. “We just do a different play! A better one! With happy songs and dashing heroes and romantic interests! Oooo! And battle scenes! We need battle scenes! They might not be happy, but at least we wouldn’t be hurting Cadance’s feelings like this.”

“That is a good point.” Rarity smiled “We’ll discuss it with Skitch tomorrow.”

As they approached his apartment building, Flash shifted the weight that was Skitch-Sketch slightly, moving her off his wings. The unicorn murmured something unintelligible and wrapped her legs all the tighter around his neck.

“She’s got a bit of a grip on her, that’s for sure.” He muttered, nodding his head towards the building’s door. “Can you grab it for me Glittering?”

His friend nodded, pushing the door open with a paw. The two walked past the still broken elevator in the lobby and began the laborious climb to the top floor.

“You’d think that the landlord would have taken your offer to fix that thing.” Flash mused.

Green Acres Apartments wasn’t exactly one of the nicer buildings in Manehatten. In fact, under most circumstances, it would probably be considered a slum. The hot water was intermittent, the pipes sometimes burst, and it was drafty as the depths of Tartarus itself. But, rent was cheap and that fact lead to the population of students, artists and bachelors that called the building home.

Glittering shrugged. “He’s stubborn. Says that he’ll handle it himself.”

“Of course he will.” Flash rolled his eyes. “Just like he’d get it the last six times we brought it up.”

Reaching the floor that their apartment was on, they passed one of their neighbors, Blue Marsh. The light blue stallion raised an eyebrow at Flash and his cargo.

“Nice!” He grinned, as Glittering unlocked their apartment. “That’s a real catch there. I was starting to wonder-”

“Marsh, go soak your head.” Flash growled, slamming the door behind him. At least they were home now and they could rest for the night. He could give Skitch the bed, and he’d take the second hoof cou-

“Hurk!” The weight on his back suddenly convulsed. “BLARGH!”

Warmth flooded over the back of Flash’s head and neck, the pegasus freezing mid step. A moment later the distinct smell of sick filled his nostrils. “Sweet Celestia….” He shuddered, the warm rivulets of vomit soaking into his mane and coat, “please tell me that she didn’t just throw up on me!”

“You are my friend, and I shall lie to you if you wish.” Glittering smirked. “Perhaps a shower before bed would be in order?”

“Can you hold her then?”

Glittering nodded, gently grabbing Skitch’s unconscious form. But the unicorn latched onto her bearer, refusing to let go. Frowning, Glittering tugged a few times, only to find the unicorn’s grip to be quite strong.

“She has quite a grip for an unconscious pony.” Glittering sighed.

“You can’t break it?”

“I don’t want to be too rough with her. She did drink herself into this state.”

Flash rolled his eyes. “Forget it. I’ll just take her with me. She probably got it all over herself too.”

Trotting for the apartments cramped bathroom, he couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Some ponies never seemed to know their limits. Stepping into the low tub, he found himself suddenly struck with another dilemma. How to actually take a shower with another pony on his back.

Grunting, he gave his body a shake. Maybe if he could at least get her to move enough so that the water could reach the throw up-

Skitch’s whole body suddenly toppled to the right and off his back. The rapid shift of weight managed to catch Flash completely off guard, his hooves slipping on the polished porcelain. He toppled forward, landing ontop of the still somehow unconscious unicorn.

Finding their muzzles almost touching, Flash couldn’t help but stare as his mind grasped the situation he was now in. Skitch was underneath him now, her forelegs were still wrapped around his neck, the end result almost as if they were a dating couple. A flush crept into Flash’s cheeks as he found his gaze wandering towards Skitch’s soft lips as she muttered something unintelligible, her silky soft coat….

No! He shook his head, pushing the thoughts from his mind. Bad Flash! You barely know this mare. ...Does she even count as a mare? Some alien in a pony’s body? ...Sun above, this is confusing.

Slowly placing his hooves on either side of Skitch, he pushed himself upright again and reached for the tap. A cacophony of bangs and groans erupted from the pipes, the hot water right behind it. A happy sigh escaped Flash’s lips as the warmth flooded his body. There were few things as effective at removing the stress of the day as a hot shower in his mind. Turning his attention to his task, he was able to get them both cleaned off in short enough order.

Getting out of the tub turned out to be a little more tricky than getting in, what with an adult pony still clinging to him like a barnacle on a ship’s hull. Thankfully, with Skitch no longer hanging on his back, there was another option. A few flaps of his wings easily propelled them over the edge and- after fiddling with the towels a bit to get them both dry- down the short hall to his bedroom.

Flitting over to his bed, he threw back the covers with a hoof and carefully settled down with Skitch, laying down next to her. Of course, he was trapped now because she still had a death grip on his body.

“I have no idea why you won’t let go,” he mused, shaking his head slightly. “But I still need you to do that.”

Easier said than done, admittedly. His eyes scanned the room, searching for something that would help him escape from the grip of this mare. Spying his bed’s own pillows, an idea was stirred in the back of his mind. Holding one close to his muzzle, be began to inch backwards, sliding out of Skitch’s grip one bit at a time. A few times he almost got stuck when she tried to hug him a little closer with a whimper. But he finally managed to slip loose, Skitch-Sketch’s vice like embrace closing around the pillow. With a sigh, he rolled off the bed, starting to trot over to his closet to dig out some blankets.

“Flash?”

Skitch’s voice- surprisingly clear- cut through the room. Flash turned to face her, recoiling slightly at the anguished expression on her face. She had barely managed to push herself upright with a hoof, having emerged from her slumber.

“Please. Don’t leave me alone.”

And then she was gone again, collapsing back to the mattress. Flash felt his stomach doing a nervous dance at what she said. She wanted him to stay. He was quite sure that this would be a bad idea, all things considered. Mostly because he placed the odds of her remembering any of this between zero and none. Still….

With a sigh, he trotted back to bed, and layed down beside her. For a few moments, he didn’t move, just listening to the sound of his and Skitch’s breathing. As the weight of tiredness began to weigh him down, he reached out with a wing, draping it across the sleeping unicorn’s back. Skitch leaned into his wing hug. Perhaps consciously, perhaps unconsciously, Flash wasn’t entirely sure. But there was a small smile on her face as she slept. He smiled as well, closing his eyes and letting sleep carry him away.

Pain was what Skitch awoke too. Pain and the burning rays of sunlight that attacked her eyes like the arrows from some vengeful god. The unicorn buried her head under her pillow, using it as a shield against the wrath of the tyrannical sun. The underside was cool, and the pillow itself was soft and fluffy as she snuggled it even closer to it.

“Wait….”

Opening her right eye- argh, fucking sunlight- and slowly looking around, she could see a mattress, fresh linen sheets, and a wide window overlooking the streets of Manehatten. Groaning, she switched eyes, only to gasp at the sight of the sleeping orange pegasus beside her. Dimly, her brain began to catch up with the rest of what she was feeling, and the situation she was in.

She was in bed. With a stallion. Who had his wing draped over her body. And they were both naked. And she had been drinking last night! AND he was smiling contently!

“Oh god, oh god, oh god!” She shouted, her heart hammering in her chest. “WHAT DID I DO?!”

Shouting had been a mistake. The words rang in her ears like a gong, and there was a horrible ache at the base of her horn that combined with the stabbing knives that was the hangover to form a whole new crescendo of pain. Shoving Flash’s wing off of her, she scrambled backwards from him as he awoke in a flurry of flailing limbs. Going over the edge of the bed with a yelp, she hit the floor with an even louder cry of agony.

“Gah! Stupid damn floor!” She moaned at the fresh fiery lances that sliced through her brain. This was becoming an annoying pattern.

“Skitch-Sketch?” Flash groggily asked, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“You...you…” She stammered, pointing a shaky hoof at him. “You had your way with me!”

Flash’s jaw dropped for a moment, but then he sat bolt upright and came back, eyes blazing. “Are you kidding me? Did you just accuse me of what I think you did?!”

“I...I don’t know.” Skitch stammered, her heart dropping into the pit of her stomach. She had gotten drunk beyond reasoning again. “I...oh lord. I came onto you didn’t I? I came onto you and we had drunken sex!”

Another slack jawed stare from Flash said it all. “We did have sex! No, no, no!” She moaned, throwing her hooves across her eyes. “I haven’t even been a woman for a year yet and I already gave up my virginity to a random stallion at a bar!”

She could hear the sound of his hooves on the floor before her eyes were uncovered. Flash’s expression was almost the textbook definition of deadpan.

“Do I really have to explain in all the different ways those assumptions are wrong?”

“But...bed...sleeping...naked...and,” she winced. “Ponies are almost always naked so that doesn’t necessarily mean anything….”

“Uh huh.” Flash nodded. “For the record, you got insanely drunk, passed out, needed me to carry you back here- because we had no idea where your hotel was- at which point you threw up on me,” He paused, glaring down at Skitch. “Which was really appreciated.”

Skitch didn’t think that her ears could press any flatter against her skull as Flash kept up his tirade. “Then, once I finally manage to get you cleaned off and put you to bed, you suddenly wake up long enough to ask me not to leave! And now you accuse me of sleeping with you? Also, I am hardly ‘some random stallion at a bar’ thank you very much.”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” She wailed, struggling to collect her wits through the haze of a morning hangover. “I just...I’ve never really had to worry about...sex and stuff.”

“Never?” Flash raised an eyebrow.

“Okay...well…” She groaned. “Look...can we have this discussion over coffee or something? This hangover is killing me.”

Withering under Flash’s glare, she found a spot on his mane to be rather suddenly fascinating. Eventually, the stallion sighed.

“Let’s get some coffee in you.” He declared, helping her up. “It’s hard to apologize through a hangover and we have a long day ahead of us. Okay?”

She looked up into his eyes, the vice like grip on her stomach releasing itself. “I’d like that.”

“Come on then.”

Head still throbbing, Skitch followed her host, hoping that she wouldn’t put her hoof in her mouth again.

The First Day

Skitch would be lying if she said she wasn’t somewhat familiar with Noctum Quill’s type. One of her friends back on earth had- and presumably still was- a big fan of theatre, to the point where Jerrod had thrown himself into acting and improv during college. Over the years, Skitch had seen a few of the shows he was involved in and thusly had tangential contact with other theatre and acting people. The pony before her radiated a certain sense of smug superiority that she had seen in some of that crowd. At the moment though, that smug attitude was mixed with a kind of childlike glee as he looked around the stage, a wide grin playing across his muzzle.

“Oh!” He exclaimed, Skitch and the rest of her small group forgotten as he rushed over to the actors. Hooves doing a nervous little half shuffle, half bouncy dance, he zipped from pair to pair, stopping long enough to hear some of the lines delivered, before moving onto the next group.

Skitch, and her small group of ponies watched his display with mixed expressions of confusion and horror…mostly, anyway. Pinkie remained her usual cheerful self.

“Aww! He looks so happy,” she grinned. “Maybe he isn’t that bad?”

One of Flash’s eyebrows threatened to disappear into his mane as he gave Pinkie a look. “Did you read the script? Even if he’s well meaning, he’s seriously deluded.”

Horn glowing, Skitch quickly swept up the pages she had been working on, passing the stack over to Rarity. “Rare, can you hide these for now? Time to put our game faces on.”

“Of course darling. Coco and I will help Suri ‘work on the costumes’.”

The fashion designers trotted off as Quill came sliding back over to Skitch. His enthusiasm seemed to have dipped a little bit, the wide grin having fallen from his features.

“Well, I suppose it’s a start...no one really seems to be getting into their roles yet.”

“I’m sure its because we haven’t had too much time to practice yet,” Skitch smiled. “And not because they aren’t worried about their reputations when involved in a play that insults one of Equestria’s princesses.”

“Hmmm. Yes, you’re probably right.” Quill nodded. Skitch blinked, shooting a glance at Flash. The musician shrugged swiping a hoof over his head as Quill kept on speaking, seeming oblivious to the gesture. “I imagine that once they have more rehearsal time everything will be just smashing!”

“Yeah….smashing.”

Grumbling, Skitch trotted slightly downstage to get a better look at the actors running through their lines. Quill followed, settling into a seat at her side, the goofy grin having squirmed its way back into place.

“I’m really curious to see what your process is,” he prattled on. “How do you manage your actors?”

The hangover induced headache was beginning to return, Quill’s voice drilling straight to the base of her skull. She truly and desperately wanted this guy to just go away so that she could focus on finishing this stupid production, so she could claw a few more inches down the path to getting her house back and move out of the Apple’s guest room! Still, even through all of those angry thoughts bouncing about in her mind, she felt the need to point out one thing.

“You do know that I’m not a director by trade, right?”

“Ahh! But you have the creative spark! I can tell! Thusly, you have a process. Every creative pony has a process and I’m sure that you...humans, right? There must be a process there.”

Skitch massaged her temple. “...Please stop talking about ‘the process’. Right now I’m just trying to see where everypony is at with their parts.”

“Ahh, yes, of course. I’ll just watch here with you.”

Flash looked at Pinkie, shaking his head. “Like we’re not even here.”

Before Pinkie could respond, Quill twirled about, still quite excitable as he bounced on his hooves. “Oh, that’s right! The music, I almost forgot!”

Just as quickly as he had rushed to Skitch’s side, he zipped back over to Flash, throwing a leg over his shoulder. The pegasus recoiled, a motion that Quill likewise seemed to be indifferent too. “Tell me my fine stallion, what have you written yet?”

“Nothing,” Flash answered, slowly and steadily, as if he were speaking to a foal. “There are no songs in the scripts you left us, patter or otherwise. Lots of references to historical pieces and scores you want as background music, but those are already written!”

Quill huffed, his tone becoming a bit more clipped now. “Just because I didn’t give you specific instructions to write musical bits, doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t have! Can’t you just throw something together?”

Skitch groaned, already dreading where this was going. Never dismiss an artist’s craft if you knew what was good for you. And Flash had a mighty twitch developing in his right eye as he carefully removed Quill’s leg from his body.

“Just throw something together?” he growled. “Sure. Should I just conjure up a little diddy about the tyrant princess of love?”

“Yes! Exactly!”

Over her few months of living in Equestria, Skitch had began to pick up on the nuances of pony body language, a fact made easier by how naturally expressive pony bodies were. The tail would twitch or droop, ears pull flat or swivel towards what the pony was listening too. Pegasai were even more expressive than that, thanks to their wings, which would flare, twitch, angle or flap depending on how they were feeling. Right now, Flash’s were flared, very clearly signaling his desire to deck this unicorn right on the snout.

Pinkie also seemed to pick up on this, eyes quickly flicking from Flash to Quill and back again. Grinning, the party pony grabbed one of Flash’s forelegs, “Come on Flashie! Let’s go get a pretzel!”

Spring Fields looked up mid sentence, eyes suddenly sparkling, her hooves already halfway across the stage. “I want a pretzel too!”

She didn’t make it too far before Skitch’s magic aura sprang up around her. “And I’m sure that Pinkie will bring you one, but we’re busy right now. Keep running your lines.”

The glare the actress shot her way could have frozen Skitch in place but she stalked back to her spot all the same. Quill trotted back over to her side, returning to watch his vision emerge from the collection of actors.

“Pinkie?” Skitch called to her retreating friend. “Can you bring me some aspirin or whatever pain medication gets used around here?”

“Oki doki loki!”

With that, Skitch found herself trapped with Quill while vaguely insulting lines were read all around them. It wasn’t long before her mind began to wander to what kind of esoteric punishments Princess Cadance might come up with for her being involved in this travesty. Maybe she’d be turned into a crystal statue for the princesses front lawn. It would be the rather insane trend that her life had fallen into.

Maybe she’ll make me emerald. It would match my coat color…. Assuming she can even do that. Can she do that? Just how powerful is she is as an alicorn anyway….

“Well this all looks in order,” Quill interrupted. “Care to show me the rest of the production so far?”

“...Yeah, I suppose I can. Follow me.”

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the city of Manehatten, the local offices of Perfect Pegasus Productions were buzzing with activity. Situated in a modest, three story brownstone the business started by the Flim-Flam brothers had began in a corner office of the building’s second floor, before spreading to cover half of said floor, providing plenty of space to interview new talent, run impromptu auditions, and manage both actors and the backstage aspects of the theater world.

Despite their rising fortunes on the other side of Equestria- perhaps even because of that- the Manehatten offices remained rather modest looking in their decoration. While movies were climbing, Flim and Flam couldn’t divest themselves from the industry that they had made their money on.

Flim was in a good mood as he strolled into the office this- admittedly late- morning, a thermos of piping hot coffee bobbing along in his aura. Rather than take the elevator, he trotted up the stairs like he did every morning that he was in Manehatten. One of the many small things he did to help stay in shape.

“Morning Silver. Flam here yet?”

Silver Mistral had started as a secretary almost a decade ago but her ambition hadn’t kept her there. The silvery-blue earth pony had risen to become the effective leader of this branch of the company, while the brothers worked on the movie business in Las Pegasus. Sitting at her desk, she peered over her glasses, the usual flood of of new paperwork and script proposals spread across its surface.

“He is not. But there’s somepony here to speak with you. A Duke Blueblood? He’s in your office.”

“Really?” Flim blinked. “...Suppose I should go see what he wants.”

Weaving his way back to his private office, Flim pushed his way inside to indeed find Duke Blueblood idly fiddling with one of the awards that adorned the dark wooden desk that dominated the center of the room. Their eyes met as he entered, Flim giving his head an almost instinctive bow before sliding around to the other side of said desk.

“Your Grace. How can I help you? ...Did you and Riche need something else?”

“On the contrary. There has been a change in regards to the situation with Riche.”

The way Blueblood spoke sent a nervous itch down Flim’s spine. Noble games were a annoying thing to be dragged into. “...What kind of change?” He frowned. “My understanding was that our involvement was done once the production was set up.”

“My apologies Flim, but that previous arrangement just won’t work anymore.”

“You want to renegotiate the deal? That’s not good business Blueblood.”

“As I said. The situation has changed. I no longer want the human to fail. You and your brother are still the producers and have final say.”

“And?”

“It’s simple,” Blueblood shrugged. “Just don’t interfere with her. She’s going to go off script on the production if she's smart. Quite soon I imagine. Don’t try to stop what she’ll do.”

“Yeah, great idea, save for when Riche then turns around to make our lives miserable. Why would I agree to this?”

“Mostly because Riche has gone off the deep end. You were there Flim. I’m sure you picked up on that threat he leveled at the other Element Bearers?”

Flim nervously fidgeted at that. It was true that he had picked up on what Riche had been implying. He just hadn’t really believed that the business pony was being serious about it. The Elements of Harmony were Equestria’s main line of defense against...well, things like the human, he supposed.

“So, you do understand,” Blueblood nodded, leaning forward across the desk. “Understand me Flim. Riche’s obsession could endanger Equestria’s actual defenders. If the Element Bearers want their pet human, I’m inclined to give her to them.”

“This still doesn’t help me! Riche will retaliate, he can make things difficult for us-”

“So could I, and my fellow members of the Sun Court,” Blueblood shrugged. “I could also go to Celestia and spill the details of this scheme. Or you can just relax, do what I ask, and let my fellows and I handle things.”

Frowning, Flim fidgeted with a few stacks of papers before finally giving a sigh. “Fine, Blueblood. I just really hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Trust me, I have everything in hoof.”

“...and this is where the sets are being built.” Skitch finished with a wave of her hoof.

The sets were the last stop on the “tour” of the production. It was perhaps somewhat appropriate that Glittering Quartz had set up the workshop in the basement, where she and a half dozen other ponies hammered away. The angular spires of the Crystal Empire were being re-created in wood, plaster and paint, with an almost insane level of detail.

Of course, now that Quartz and Quill were in the same room, the former was glaring daggers at the latter, who remained blissfully unaware of the hate that was being thrown his way. Instead, he trotted from piece to piece, slowly running a hoof along their edge or inspecting the paint with a soft “hmm”. He had done the exact same thing with the wardrobe, though Skitch wasn’t sure he could have spoken intelligently on either subject matter. But after inspecting the sets for a while, Quill came trotting back over to her.

“I have to say, everything is looking good so far. You’re doing quite well.”

“Thanks.”

“I suppose we should get back to our actors then,” Quill nodded. “Lots more work to do!”

“Ah. So, you’re...going to be staying then?”

“Of course! This is going to be my most brilliant production ever! Two hooves in and all that kind of stuff! Come on!”

With that, he spun on his hooves and charged back up the stairs. Skitch watched him go in a stunned silence, before rubbing her forehead and sighing, a gesture that she felt she’d be doing a whole lot of in the presence of this stallion. She had hoped that he’d just swing by and then run off to do other things, giving them more time to work on the replacement play. But now? All nighters seemed like the order of the day.

“Skitch?” Quartz had approached with a stack of drawings in paw. Skitch raised an eyebrow, flipping through the pages. Each one depicted the various set pieces that her group was currently working on, with additional sketches showing how they could be easily modified to be more modular. Crystal Empire in one state, whatever else they wanted in the next.

“Smooth ideas there Quartz. Just don’t over exert yourselves. It’s probably going to be rough leading up to the premiere.”
“Don’t concern yourself with our department,” Quartz nodded. “Just tell me what you want as soon as you have the script done. I’ll make sure the sets are ready.”

With a nod, Skitch shuffled back up the stairs and towards the stage. If she wanted to get her home back, best to just suck it up and deal with Quill and his attitude. By the time she caught back up with him, the writer had situated himself in the center of the upstage and was back to watching each group of actors intently. A quill and paper had been pulled from his own saddlebags and he scribbled away, presumably taking notes on how well the cast was meeting his “vision”.

The emblem of a turquoise crystal stood out from the white of the saddlebags themselves, catching Skitch’s eye as she moved to sit down. A single spire of the crystal was the center of the emblem, stretching upwards before a snow capped mountain peak. In true coat of arms style, the peak was surrounded by flourishes that surely meant something. On the right was a wavy roll of scroll, covered in flowing script, while on the left it was hemmed in by a curved line of ants. A pair of crossed spears, wrapped in sheafs of wheat made the bottom of the crest, while another section of flowing scroll work proudly declared a name. Sombra.

So, it is a family crest, Skitch thought, settling back on her haunches.

“You question me?” Spring Fields sniffed, voicing the role of “Cadance”. “Am I not the embodiment of love? Do I not understand the flows of emotion? The twangy tugging upon the hearts upon ponies? Sombra is a cheat and a liar! Trust me. He must be imprisoned!”

The lines just make Skitch want to shudder. She hadn’t seen such a horrible butchering of a character since...well, many fandom interpretations of Princess Celestia really. Having met Princess Cadance only made it worse. She didn’t need ponies slandering her like this.

“She could use a little more disdain in her voice, I think. What do you think?”

“Disdain isn’t usually what I associate with Cadance,” Skitch frowned, unable to entirely keep her own disdain from her voice. “Kind of helped save my life a little while back but, whatever, its your vision after all.”

Quill tsked, shaking his head at the revelation. “Oh dear. I was hoping she hadn’t gotten to you already.”

And, here it was. The mania behind the pony that was probably the seed of his bad reputation. Trying to head off the madness, Skitch gave a noncommittal grunt of a response, suddenly very interested in Marigold Button’s performance of Sombra. The actor seemed rather bored with the lines he was reading, perhaps even resigned to something. But Quill didn’t heed the brush off and instead plowed right on.

“I know you’re new to Equestria, Miss Sketch. In fact, I was quite eager to meet somepony that had an outsiders view of our world, but you can’t trust her. Princess Cadance is quite the conniving figure.”

She really didn’t want to hear this right now but since the damned fool seemed intent on venting the whole of his personal conspiracy manifesto upon her, Skitch fell back to her next logical option. Fein interest until the person ranting just stopped talking. It was a vital tactic for anyone who grew up in the big city, where you might occasionally find people ranting on street corners.

“Mmm. Really?”

“Oh, yes! Surely you can understand why?” Quill glowered, beginning to speak a bit faster now. “Emotions are the currency which she buys and sells ponies with. A wink and a smile and everypony just immediately buys into the idea that she’s somehow benevolent, despite being the only pony to walk out of what was the Crystal Empire! And then, not too long after, she’s suddenly an alicorn!”

“Princess Celestia seems to trust her….”

“Ah, yes. The one who banished her little sister to the moon. Hardly a role model. I’m sure they’re both involved.”

He leaned closer to Skitch, voice dropping into a conspiratorial tone. “Mark my words. We live in a state of silken tyranny.”

You wouldn’t know tyranny if it bit you on the ass. Is what Skitch thought, and dearly wanted to say, the pile rising in the back of her throat. Instead, she shrugged. “Look, I’ll admit that I don’t really know everything about Equestria, but everypony seems pretty happy with how things are-”

“The same way everypony seems to think you’re a monster? Or am I just supposed to ignore all those newspaper stories?”

Skitch’s muzzle snapped shut, the human turned pony settling into a deep, glowering pout. It wasn’t the same! He was latching onto conspiracy theories without a shred of evidence that came right out of no where! What was happening to her was...a bunch of ponies buying into a bunch of unfounded fears about her very existence, willing to believe that she had horrible plans for them all. On second thought, perhaps there were some more similarities between the two situations.

Still doesn’t make Sombra any less of a monster. Though, it probably couldn’t hurt to make myself better informed on what he actually did.

The droning line reads crept onwards, an itch beginning to settle in under her coat.

I hope that Pinkie was able to calm Flash down a bit at least.

“Better, Flashie?”

The pretzel was good, and during the long walk to find a pretzel cart that was “just right” in Pinkie’s words, his anger had faded...most of it at least. Popping the last bit in his mouth, he nodded before swallowing.

“Yeah, I am feeling a bit better now. I just...ugh...that pony makes me so mad!”

Pinkie nodded sympathetically. “I’m sorry Flashy. He really is...uhh...well…,” she trailed off lamely for a moment. “Could use some more friends?”

Flash chuckled at that, “Yeah, he probably could. We should probably be getting back soon though.”

Passing a few more bits to the pretzel vendor, Pinkie balanced another treat on her nose as they began to trot back towards the theatre. Weaving their way through the flowing crowds of ponies and other creatures, Pinkie continued to chat with animated vigor. “Once he’s gone though, we can work on the other play! I can’t wait!”

Flash raised an eyebrow, “You’re pretty excited about a whole pile of extra work. Why?”

With a quick flick of her nose, Pinkie transferred the pretzel to the top of her head. “Duh, Flashie, it’s obvious! Marigold Button playing King Sombra? Talk about your miscasting! I can’t wait to see what he’ll do with a human comedy! This is his element!”

“Funny,” Flash smirked. “I thought that comedy was your Element?”

“Laughter, Flashie.” Pinkie corrected, still smiling all the while. “Not always the same thing. Mister Button is a much better comedian than me. He’s super-duper funny! The grand master of giggles! The hammer of hecklers!

She was laying it on rather thick, but she was obviously a fan, so Flash couldn’t really blame her. Everypony had their obsessions after all. “Yeah,” he smiled, shaking his head slightly. “Too bad this is probably going to be his last production-”

“What?”

Pinkie’s face was scrunched up in confusion, head cocked slightly. “But...we’re going to do a different play. He won’t have to worry!”

A distinct sinking sensation was building in Flash’s stomach as he looked over at the earth pony. “Pinkie...he’s retiring either way. He’s just burnt out with it all.”

“WHAT?!”

Pinkie was standing leg locked, eyes wide and tail drooping. The pretzel had fallen to the ground, not that she seemed to care about that or the half dozen ponies immediately around them that had jumped back from the outburst. Flash had likewise recoiled from Pinkie’s shout, but he collected himself again and nodded.

“Sorry Pinkie Pie. He’s been talking about how tired he’s been of the whole scene since joining the production and how this was going to be the last one.”

Pinkie’s eyes were wide, almost manic, hair and mane drooping towards the ground. “But...he’s still one of the funniest ponies EVER! He’s a great actor! How...how can he just give up?! Equestria needs him! I- I need to fix this!”

“There...are other comedians out there Pinkie.” Flash blinked. “I mean...I feel for you. Some of my favorite musicians have retired or died. You just-”

But before he could share his words of wisdom, Pinkie was gone, already a blur of pink almost a block ahead of where she was just standing. With a groan, Flash galloped after her. She needed to calm down before she did something she’d regret. Pinkie’s speed was frightening and she wove between the crowds like liquid, rapidly leaving Flash in the dust.

“Excuse me!

“Shove off buddy!”

“Coming through!”

“HEY!”

“Could you move please!”

“Go take a walk!”

“For the love of-” Flash growled, throwing caution to the wind and taking wing.

Pinkie may have had the hoof speed advantage (somehow), but he had wings and was quite sure that he knew the city better than her. Forgetting about chasing the pink pony, he instead cut over the roof tops, catching an errant thermal to soar a bit higher as he pointed himself towards the Palace Theatre.

The roof tops of Manehatten were almost another neighborhood in the city. A small army of rooftop gardens, pigeon coops, and other marks of the domestic lives and hobbies that ponies engaged in lay scattered across their surfaces. Residents wandered among them and other pegasi occasionally fluttered by.

Swooping through the air, Flash kept occasionally glancing down at the ground below and Pinkie Pie’s path through the crowds. He was outpacing her but not by much as they both closed in on the the theatre.

“Look out!”

Flash threw himself in a tight spin, barely avoiding the pair of pegasi who were moving a couch right through the airspace where he had been trying to fly. Hissing through his teeth, Flash flared his wings, putting a brake on the wild descent. The sudden interruption had sent him spinning off course and Pinkie was pulling ahead, of course. A flick of his wings straightened him back out and another sent him shooting after Pinkie again. Folding his wings back, he dropped lower, skimming over a growing patch of roses. The momentum carried him over cramped alley way, his wings pumping to find more lift among the concrete canyons. Dipping, he banked between two buildings, and over a sparsely filled clothesline before throwing himself into another dive.

Pinkie’s hoof was an inch from the door when Flash landed. Throwing his forelegs about her barrel, he shifted his weight, effectively spinning Pikie by away from the door and bringing them face to face.

She looked shocked at first, but that rapidly gave way to a genuine glare of anger that seemed quite out of place on her face. “Flashie! What are you doing?! I need to-”

“What you need to do is calm down! Things are chaotic enough right now without you bursting in there to whine at Marigold.”

“But-”

“It’s his career Pinkie. He has the right to decide when its over.”

Pinkie’s lower lip quivered for a moment, before she pushed on. “But what if he’s making a mistake? Ponies can think they’re doing the right thing and still make mistakes! Skitchy’s made mistakes, Twilight’s made mistakes. All my friends have made mistakes! They didn’t give up!”

“But he’s also not the youngest stallion either,” Flash frowned. “He’s almost sixty. He’s been performing for almost forty years now. He was performing before there was even a vaudeville scene! But now that market is shrinking some. Seems like a good enough time as any to call it quits.”

“He could still act in movies though!”

“Maybe he doesn’t want to! I mean...what’s your plan here? Just run in there and tell him he can’t quit?”

Pinkie’s mane and tail seemed to take on a noticeable droop, even as she anxiously danced in place, almost bouncing from hoof to hoof, eyes wide and pleading. “I just want to talk to him! Tell him how much he means to all his fans! It’s just...not fair….”

Frowning, Flash considered that. While he did truthfully believe that Marigold had the right to retire when he wanted, he also was quite sure that he wouldn’t be able to forcibly corral Pinkie all day. It probably would also be good for her to hear Marigold’s decision from himself. Right now she was lost deep in her own fan connection with the pony, too deep for him to get through to her, he guessed.

“Okay. But,” he quickly amended at the wide smile that had instantly returned to Pinkie’s face. “Can you wait until after Quill leaves? Everypony has enough on their minds while he’s here. We don’t want to stress them out more.”

There was a pause as Pinkie considered his words, face scrunched up in deep thought, and for a moment Flash was afraid that she’d try to squirm out of his grip. But then she nodded and smiled again.

“Oki-dokey-loki!”

Sighing, Flash let go of her. “Right. Let’s go see how your friend is dealing with Quill. Hopefully she hasn’t done anything stupid.”

While Flash and Pinkie had been conducting their cross city chase, Rarity had holed up in the wardrobe room, with Coco and Suri. Aside from the brief moment when Skitch and Quill had popped in to check in on the costumes, it was quite quiet within the room. There wasn’t much for the trio to do until they knew exactly what kind of costumes would be needed for the new production. And even then, it seemed that minor modifications were going to be the order of the day.

So, Rarity turned her attention to her father’s project, working on the sketches for the Equestrian Team uniforms. They were coming along in her opinion. Her best design right now consisted of a uniform that was mostly white for it’s base color, with a diagonal stripe running across the breast of the shirt, half gold, half silver, with a thinner pink line separating the two halves. The colors for the three princesses, the very soul of Equestria to some ponies, seemed like quite a solid starting point. Still, she really wanted to work something about the tribes into the design...perhaps a crest on the shoulder sleeves would be for the best?

With a sigh, she dropped her pencil, massaging her forehead with a hoof. No, that was far too obvious and limiting. It seemed that, for whatever reason, her creativity was struggling with this project. The sleeves were too long, as were the legs on the shorts. While she doubted anypony would trip over them, they still were more restrictive than she would like. A hoofball player needed to be able to move! The ideas just weren’t flowing and Rarity had a good idea why.

The argument with her father and following conversation with Pinkie Pie still sat in the back of her mind. At the very least, she owed her father an apology-

“What are you working on there?”

Blinking, Rarity looked up into the inquisitive face of Suri Polomare. Her brownish eyes were locked upon the sketchbook’s page. Professional curiosity, Rarity expected.

“Oh, just some uniform designs for my father. Hoofball and the like.”

“Those look gorgeous!” Suri smiled. “But I am surprised you haven’t recognized me yet.”

Rarity blinked, her mind grinding back into gear as she tried to place face, coat and cutie-mark to the name. Nothing seemed to be rising from the surface though.

“I’m sorry darling, but I’m just struggling to place you.” She admitted with a wince.

“The Ponyville Knitter’s Club? Must have been six years ago?”

The mention of the knitter’s club knocked a few memories loose. The bi-weekly meetings had been one of the places where Rarity began to build bridges in Ponyville for what would become Carousel Boutique, getting a feeling for the market in the town and what they wanted. Suri had been there, but by her memory, she had only been there for a few years before moving away.

“Oh! It’s coming back to me now. You moved here after leaving Ponyville then?”

“Oh yeah! Big city bound and off to make my fortune! And now here I am, a Manehatten designer.”

“I’m happy to hear that darling.” Rarity smiled.

“Though, it’s not like I’m the only one of us who's had some success, m’kay! Fashion designer, Element of Harmony and national hero!”

Rarity chuckled, but she did enjoy the praise all the same. “You’re being quite the flatterer.”

“But it’s true! Ponyville is turning out lots of important ponies it seems. Especially if you’re designing hoofball uniforms for…,” she paused. “Actually, I’m not sure you said which team your father works for.”

“Canterlot. But these designs,” she began, tapping a hoof against the sketches, “are for the World Cup next year-”

With a gasp, Suri yanked the sketchbook out of Rarity’s hooves, examining them with a fresh set of eyes. “Rarity...it looks like you're hesitating.”

“Just...family difficulties. Don’t worry yourself about it.”

“Are you sure? I mean, it’d be horrible for you to be distracted while we’re working, m’kay.”

“Really, darling. I can manage. I’ll talk to him later.”

“Why not do it now?”

The question had come from Coco Pommel, peeking from behind one of the racks of costumes that she had been fiddling with.

“We aren’t doing any real work until tonight. This is probably a good time to do it.”

Considering that, Rarity found herself nodding in agreement. Surely, Skitch wouldn’t mind her seeing to family business while she kept Quill busy? Her father was probably hanging around Manehatten’s stadium, getting ready for tomorrow night’s game. She could grab a cab, ride down there, apologize to her father, and be back in time for the work tonight.

Yes, that was the plan.

“Thank you Coco, I think I will do just that. Can I trust you two to watch things for now?”

“Don’t worry Rarity. We’ll make sure the outfits don’t get up and walk away, m’kay.”

Not needing anymore convincing, Rarity scooped up her sketchbook and trotted off. Suri watched her go for a moment, before turning to her assistant. “Keep an eye on things Coco. I’m going to go take care of something myself, m’kay?”

“Oh. Okay Suri.”

Coco then watched Suri sweep from the room as well, leaving the young fashion designer alone with her thoughts. With a slight sigh of her own Coco dug a sketchbook out of her saddlebags and began to doodle. Perhaps, someday, she’d be actually be able to see her designs to fruition.

Someday.

Banal Broadway

“Thank you darling.”

Rarity passed the bits, carefully counted out, over to the cabbie. The stallion jingled them in his hoof for a moment before sliding them into his saddle bag, tipping his hat in thanks, and galloping off to collect another fare.

Manehatten only had one stadium but at its size, one was all that was really needed. Rarity remembered many of her father’s stories about this stadium and its distinctive decor. In an attempt to portray a sense of timelessness, it was designed in a style reminiscent of the ancient Roaman Empire, with tall, composite columns and ornate carvings. These particular ones showed athletic competitions and other feats of sport like glory, all sculpted in the brilliant white marble that was such the rage in Canterlot designs.

With no match today, the front doors were currently closed and locked, so Rarity trotted around the back of the building where the employe entrances most likely were. Like the front doors, they were closed, but not locked. Pushing one of the heavy wooden doors open, Rarity peered left and right, down the circular hallway that most likely ran the circuit of the building. With a quick debate in her head, the broke right and began to look for her father.

Her mind continued to race while she walked, the clacks of her hooves on the floor the only sound in the hallways. Apologizing to her father was the goal, naturally. But how to word it? She had not moved from her position that her life and her goals were her concern, not that of her father’s. Yet her outburst had been out of line….

Perhaps being honest and level headed was the best option. Just calmly explain that while she appreciated his concern, that she hadn’t made the decision to transition lightly. And maybe she could afford to go out and be a little more active at times. The look on Rainbow Dash’s face would be amusing, she admitted to her less lady like side.

“Hey!”

Oh dear. There was a guard, cantering towards her in a white shirt.

“Mam, what are you doing here? Not only are we closed, but this is an employee only area,” the earth pony said.

“Actually my good stallion, I’m looking for Magnum. I-”

“He doesn’t want strange mares bothering him for autographs.”

“I’m his daughter, sir! Not some wild stalker!” Rarity said, angrily stomping her hoof for emphasis. “Now, may I speak with my father or not?”

“What, you want me to just take your word that you’re related? Any pony could say that.”

Rarity scoffed. This stallion was beginning to grate on her nerves. “Are you saying that you don’t see any family resemblance between us?”

The guard looked her over with a raised eyebrow. “I dunno…you look kind of prissy to be Magnum’s daughter.”

Rarity’s eyes narrowed.

Magnum prided himself in being able to focus on his work. It was a mistake that some ponies made to consider his laid back manner a sign of buffoonery. But sports were his wheelhouse and he would try- as always- as hard as he could to make sure that his team won. They lingered around him in a loose group having just finished their warm up exercises on the field.

“Alright everpony, that was a nice warm up. So, let’s move on to some drills-”

One of the doors to the pitch slammed open with an almighty bang, one of the stadium guards galloping for all he was worth. His daughter sauntered along behind him, nose turned skyward in what he could only call a huff.

Poor fool. What did he say to her?

“Ah, Magnum? Your daughter is here to see you.”

“Thank you Light Hooves, if you could give us some privacy?”

He rushed off, Magnum turning towards his players and waving a hoof towards the corner of the pitch. The team got the hint, wandering off to find other things to do. Sighing, he turned back towards his daughter. His brave, brave daughter that had come so far and changed...so, very, very much.

“Daddy…,” she began, biting her lip in that nervous way of hers at times.

Magnum raised a hoof. “Rarity...you do know that I just want you to be happy, right?”

“Of course!”

“Then why do you always throw my efforts back in my face?”

Rarity winced and Magnum felt like his heart would break but then she shook her head. “Because, it feels like you don’t trust me to know myself. I love fashion! I own my own business! Do you think that I’d be doing this if I wasn’t sure?”

“Heh...remember when you took out the loan to buy Carousel Boutique? And the bank rejected it?”

“Because I didn’t have any collateral and was entering a risky industry,” Rarity nodded with a slight smile.

“So, your mother and I co-signed the loan,” Magnum nodded with a smile.

“And yet, here we are….”

“Rarity, I can believe in supporting my daughter and still be concerned. You’ve reinvented yourself so much that it feels like you threw the foal out with the bath water! I just want what’s the best for you!”

“And while I appreciate that daddy, I am an adult mare and capable of making my own decisions. I am sorry that I snapped at you at the restaurant...that was wrong. But I’m not going to apologize for how I run my life.”

Magnum sighed.

“Look, Rarity...I need some time. I’m just tired of feeling awkward over this.”

“Daddy…”

“Please. I need to prepare for tomorrows game. We’ll talk later, okay?”

His daughter looked like she had just been punched in the stomach. But she quickly recovered, or at least was able to put on a brave face.

“Very well. If that’s what you really feel like you need. We’ll speak later.”

Watching his daughter go, it felt like weights had been dropped around his neck. Oh, if only fate hadn’t been so cruel to strike his oldest child with these issues. If she had just been born a filly! Then he wouldn’t have raised her all...wrong. She might have been more balanced in personality. But that hadn’t been the case and he had failed her...him...both.

With a sigh, he waved the team back over, returning to their training. He moved through the usual routine. Running a few lengths of the pitch to work on speed and endurance, then running between cones to work on dexterity. They were just about to break out the hoof balls for some shooting practice when the voice of a mare that he didn’t recognize addressed him.

“Excuse me, Mister Magnum?”

Rolling his eyes, he turned back towards the pitch entrance to see a light pink mare with a dark purple mane trotting his direction. He’d need to have a talk with security.

“Miss, who are you and what do you want? I’m trying to run a team here!”

In other circumstances, he might have been more concerned about how harsh that sounded. At the moment though, he truly didn’t care. He just wanted this strange pony to go away, so he could focus on his work and not how broken his relationship with his daughter was. The new arrival seemed unconcerned though, just smiling as she dipped her head in a slight nod.

“My name is Suri Polomare. I’m working with your daughter on a project right now-”

“Get on with it.”

“Well, she’s just been really upset and depressed from what I’ve seen,” she said, casually waving her hoof while chattering away at a breakneck pace. “I mean, I know I’d be if I was fighting with my family while dealing with a stuck up producer and having to do a whole new set of designs for the World Cup, m’kay.”

“The point. Please,” Magnum sighed through gritted teeth.

“Let me do the World Cup designs.”

Magnum paused.

“Excuse me?”

“Look, I won’t pretend to know why you’re fighting. But being forced to work together probably isn’t helping things. You totally need some time to breathe.”

Turning away, Magnum frowned, Suri’s words churning away in his head. The pony had to have some angle, most likely a desire to further her own career. His immediate, almost knee jerk reaction would have been to throw her out. Despite his misgivings about his former son’s change in personality, he did wish her well in her career. It was why he had tapped her for the World Cup job in the first place. But another voice argued the other side of that coin. Was it really worth piling further strain on their relationship? He’d never ask a player with an injured leg to take the pitch and play anyway. Maybe...maybe it would be best to give his daughter a break.

“Okay Miss Polomare. I’ll give you a shot. Let me give you my address so that you can mail me the designs.”

The clock hands were moving far too slowly.

It hung just next to the backstage exit, ticking away with an almost mocking slowness. In fact, Skitch was rather sure that she had seen it tick backwards a few times. Taking a deep breath, she focused on a mental chant that was becoming her mantra.

For a home. For a home. For a home.

Truthfully, it had probably passed the point of Mantra and become a creed. The Collector had taken everything from her. Family, friends, species...in essence, her home. And she would be damned if she’d allow it to happen again. The line would be drawn here. This far and no farther. Which was why she was putting up with Quill’s nattering questions.

“So, what is it like being a pony compared to being human?”

That was...actually a fair question as it was one that she had considered more than a few times herself. Plus, it wasn’t about his inane conspiracy theories, and a willing distraction.

“It’s really different, but really the same at the same time, paradoxically enough.”

Quill cocked his head, the confusion evident on his features. “What do you mean?”

“This body,” she motioned to herself, “is rather different from my old one. Having a tail is especially a new thing for me. But personality wise? Ponies and humans have a surprising amount in common.”

Spring Fields looked up from where she was running lines, shooting a shifty glare Skitch’s way. She ignored it, instead trying to anticipate what Quill’s follow up question would be.

“Give me an example,” he said.

Skitch waved a hoof at her surroundings. “All of this is a good example. Earth had a vaudeville scene. Though, it went into decline...jeese, over seventy years ago now?”

“Are...you saying that your world doesn’t have theater anymore?”

Quill looked horrified and, for once, the other actors within earshot seemed to be of the same mind, the reading of lines forgotten. Skitch shook her head, unable to keep the wry smile off her muzzle. Theatre types. A familiar image took shape in her mind. Jerrod ranting and raving about how the latest production was going to be a disaster- for it was always a disaster- for some minor reason or another.

“No. There’s still theatre. It’s not as popular as it used to be and the vaudeville style variety show really isn’t done anymore. Still lots of people try to be actors though. And we have Broadway in Manhatten-”

“Oh, come on!”

Spring Fields had thrown her hooves, and her script, into the air. “Manhatten? What do you call your Canterlot? Humanlot? And I’m supposed to buy that the exact same kind of theatre developed on two completely different universes?”

“Yeah, it doesn’t make a lot of sense,” Skitch said, shrugging. “There are probably people and ponies who might be trying to work out that conundrum. But I don’t have the scientific or magical background to go delving into those answers. So, I take the world as it is.”

“You are such a fraud.”

“...Excuse me?”

“Your lies are so transparent!” she growled, stalking straight towards Skitch, her angry hoof stomps echoing against the wood of the stage. Stopping just short of Skitch, she glared all the harder at her, which made the unicorn take a step back. “You’re just taking things from Equestria and putting a different name on them! I want the truth! What do you want from us?”

Skitch’s surprise quickly gave way to aggravation. “I’m telling you the truth! You just can’t handle it! All I want is to earn enough money so that I can buy my house back and stop sponging off of Applejack’s family!”

“Oh, so it’s the Element of Honesty you’re after? Going to take her body like you did that pony’s?”

Now Skitch’s eyes narrowed, a sneer creeping across her muzzle. “You have exactly five seconds to get out of my face before I slap yours off! Applejack has been very good to me. Maybe better than I deserve. But I won’t have you insult her generosity by insinuating that I would do anything to hurt her! Nor will I have you insult the memory of the original Skitch-Sketch by saying that I stole her body!”

“You’re the one wearing it!”

“Because I was put into it!”

“Now, now, enough of this.”

Skitch felt Quill put a leg around her neck as he stepped next to her. She winced. This wasn’t going to end well.

“There’s no reason to be so distrustful of our visiting human here. Isn’t Equestria supposed to be a land of friendship and tolerance? What evidence is there that she means us any harm?”

“The newspapers!”

“Oh yes, the same ones that constantly kiss Celestia’s flank?”

“Like I care what a descendant of Sombra says!”

The rear doors to the building swung open, Pinkie and Flash walking in a moment later. Skitch kneaded her forehead with a hoof before sighing. This was going no where. “Okay. Tempers are high right now. Let’s just...call it an early night. We’ll all meet back here tomorrow around...ten am.”

Spring Fields snorted, but turned away, filing past her and then Pinkie and Flash on her way out the door. The other actors followed suit, a few shooting nervous glances as Skitch as they went. She could only hope that they’d remember and decide to stick with the plan, and loop back around to the theatre again. Once the coast was clear, of course.
Soon it was just her, Pinkie, Flash and Quill backstage. The playwright patted her on the back, making her dearly wish that he’d stop touching her.

“I’m sorry that happened to your my dear. The things that get lodged in some ponies minds.”

“Yes. The things.”

“We could always replace her. I could talk to Flim and Flam.”

Skitch shook her head. “And, what, make her all the more angry at me for messing with her career? I’ll just work around her attitude.”

Quill shrugged. “Well...if you’re sure. I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow?’

“Yup. Tomorrow.”

He set off, pausing only to wave goodbye for a moment. As the door snapped shut behind him, Skitch slumped to the floor with a sigh. She was immediately bowled over by the pink blur that was her curly maned friend.

“Skitchy! We have a super-duper emergency!”

“What, did Nightmare Moon come back or something?”

“No you silly-filly! Marigold Button is retiring! We need to make this play awesomeriffic to convince him to keep acting!”

Skitch stared at her friend for several minutes, before Pinkie poked her in the cheek.

“Skitchy? Are you okay?”

“Sorry Pinkie...my brain was just trying to shift topics without a clutch. You want to stop an actor from retiring?”

Pinkie’s brilliant blue eyes almost filled Skitch’s vision, as she pressed her snout right up against Skitch’s. “Please Skitchy! I grew up on his comedy! The next generation of fillies and colts can’t be denied his genius!”

Blinking, Skitch looked to Flash, who shrugged. “I’ve already told her that I think she needs to let go.”

Easier said than done. The heartbreak of fandom was a familiar thing to Skitch. From comic crises to disappointing movie sequels and prequels, she had experienced it quite a few times...and probably wasted far too much time arguing with people about those things on the internet.

Patting her friend’s curly mane, Skitch sighed but put on the nicest smile she could. “Pinkie...I’ll do my best. But I can’t guarantee anything. I’m not a great director here.”

Pinkie hugged her, her forelegs providing a surprisingly vice like grip. “Oki-doki-loki.”

“I guess we have to wait for everypony. Back to writing?” Flash asked.

“Yeah. We need to have some part of a script by the time everyone gets back.”

The half completed script was broken out and the trio set to work again, transcribing the events of the movie as quickly as she could, while Flash and Pinkie copied the words en-masse. It had seemed like they had just started when the doors swung open again and Rarity came trotting up the stairs.

“Rarity?” Skitch blinked, looking up from her work. “When did you leave?”

Rarity looked around the backstage area with a slight frown. “About an hour ago darling. I didn’t wish to disturb you while you were stuck dealing with Quill. Where did all our actors go?”

“Spring Fields and I had a fight. Used it as an excuse to make it look like we were calling it a day early. Now we play the waiting game and see if they come back.”

“What if they don’t?”

“We’ll….play that by ear,” Skitch sighed. “Any chance you could help Pinkie and Flash with copying?”

She hoped it wouldn’t come to that. Having to replace actors would be just one more problem on top of everything else. For now, they’d have to wait and see if everypony would come back and stick to the plan.

For now, Skitch focused back on turning movie to play, her quill scratching its way across the paper with the kind of frantic movements that only someone racing a deadline could produce. She only paused to look up at the clock, and mark the flow of time. Mid day gave way to early afternoon as the clock struck one thirty.

As the stacks of scripts grew, copied by the hooves and magic of her friends (and one musician), the doors began to creek open. Marigold Button was the first one through, sporting a new blue bowtie and a brown tweed jacket.

Flash voiced the obvious question. “Did you go shopping while you were gone or something?”

“What, on my salary? No, I just went home to change. Starting a new production, wear a new jacket. It’s a luck thing.”

Picking up one of the mostly completed scripts from the floor, Skitch passed it over with a flick of her magic. “Alright Mister Button, here’s the script we have for you so far. You’ll be playing Maximum Bounty.”

“And what’s the deal with Bounty here?”

“He’s a washed up, aging, corruptible Broadway producer who eeks out a living seducing old mares for money to produce his next play.”

“Ah, the hero of the piece.”

“You can do it Mister Button!” Pinkie cheered.

The doors clicked open again as another one of the acting crew showed up. She was a unicorn, with a navy blue coat, and wavy light purple mane and a single silver bell for a cutie mark. From what Skitch could remember the original script had her as a minor noble of some kind.

Whether Spring Fields would actually come back or not was still an open question. Considering her paranoia, having a backup plan seemed like a good idea to Skitch.

“You,” she pointed at her, “what’s your name?”

Blinking, she nervously shuffled her hooves before answering. “Uhhh, I’m Blue Bell.”

“Think you can do a mousy, nervous accountant?”

“Well, I think so….”

A script was shoved at her, Skitch getting to her hooves. “Let’s find out. Can you join Marigold on the top of page fifteen?”

The ruffle of pages being shuffled floated through the air as the actors found their marks. Skitch motioned with a hoof.

“Go, whenever you’re ready.”

“I assume,” Marigold started, taking on a clipped, accusatory tone, “you are making those cartoon noises to attract my attention. Am I correct in that assumption, you fish-faced enemy of pony kind?”

Blue Bell winced, almost cowering behind her script.

“I have hurt your feelings,” Marigold said.

Blue Bell nodded rapidly.

“Good, what is it?”

“S-sir? May I speak to you for just a minute.”

Marigold mimed pulling a watch from his coat pocket. “Go! You have fifty eight seconds!”

“Well, sir...it seems….”

“You have forty-eight seconds!”

“In looking at your books, I’vediscoveredthat…,” Blue Bell spat out, beginning to stumble over the worlds in a panic.

“Twenty-eight seconds, hurry, hurry, you’re using up your time!” Marigold snorted, waving his watch holding hoof.

Blue Bell turned away from Marigold for a moment, miming mopping at her forehead with a hoofierchief. “Mister Bounty, I cannot function under these conditions! You’re making me extremely nervous!”

Humming to herself, Skitch glanced over at Flash, Pinkie and Rarity. “Well, she’s convinced me. Any objections from any ponies?”

“None at all! I thought she was quite good.”

“Yeah! She was all silly and nervousriffic!”

“Better than dealing with Spring Fields throwing a tantrum again.”

“It’s settled then! Blue Bell, you’re our new second lead! Congratulations.”

The smallest of squeaks escaped the unicorn’s lips as her eyes bugged out. Then, before anyone could catch or stop her, she collapsed to the floor with a thud. They rushed to her side, just as the door opened again and Spring Fields came up the stairs.

The moment she saw the unconscious form of Blue Bell, she let loose an almighty scream. Scrambling back from the scene, she almost tripped over her own hooves in the blind panic.

“Y-you killed her! You monster!”

“She not dead! She just passed out cause I gave her a leading part.”

“You gave her my part?! YOU MONSTER!”

“Well...glad your priorities are in order,” Marigold said, rolling his eyes.

“I’m sure there are plenty of other parts. No need to call anypony a monster,” Rarity said, gritting her teeth slightly.

Picking up another script, Skitch dangled it before Spring with her magic. “She’s right you know. I think you’d be perfect for Rose Bouquet.”

Spring tore the pages from the amber aura, flipping through them to find the part. “Tell me about it.”

“You’ll be an eccentric director known for making horrible plays that inadvertently helps turn the worst play ever made into a runaway hit.”

“Really?”

“Hey, we are doing a comedy now.”

Spring pursed her lips as she continued to read, eyes zipping across the pages as she took in every word. A soft groan rose from Blue Bell as she began to stir, helped into a sitting position by Pinkie.

“Well, the play does look acceptable. But I should be playing the other lead! Why did you give it to her anyway?”

Skitch frowned. “Because I had no idea if you were going to come back! You’ve accused me of being out to hurt ponies! I’m amazed you decided to come back.”

“My career is dead for sure if I blow things off. For better or for worse, we are stuck together.”

“Sooo….that’s a yes on the part then?”

Spring Fields looked from Skitch to Blue Bell a few times, her expression still livid. But after a few rounds of this, she gave an exasperated sigh.

“Fine! The sooner we get this done and we can never look at each other again, the better.”

“Agreed. Rarity, can you-”

“Get them wardrobe? Of course darling,” she smiled, waving for the three actors to follow her. “Right this way!”

While Rarity trotted off with them, Skitch flopped into a seat next to Pinkie, the pair waiting by the doors for more of the returning cast. There were more scripts to pass out, after all. Eventually, the rest of the cast returned, filing back in ones and twos. Skitch and Pinkie gave them their scripts, and passed out the rest of the roles. Once they were all back, and milling about the backstage area, Skitch addressed the group.

“Alright everypony. First of all, thank you all for coming back. I know that some of you are still kind of unsure about me. But we’re going to get through this. Together.”

A nervous shuffle rippled through the crowd, but a few of them nodded. Pinkie pouted at this.

“Come on everypony!” she shouted, jumping forward with her usual explosion of energy. Rushing from pony to pony, she giggled, clapped them on their backs and flashed wide, beaming smiles. “If we work together, there’s nothing we can’t do! Trust a certified bonafide Element of Harmony on that! So, let’s see some smiles!”

Pinkie remained the master of her craft and her upbeat attitude proved to be somewhat infectious. More than a few of the actors seemed to loosen up, at least a little bit. Skitch could feel the fear that had been squirming around in her gut since this whole thing began, lessen as well.

“Alright! Let’s get to work then! We’ll begin with some read throughs and then well make sure that we got the wardrobe situation squared away.”

It would be a long night.

A cheerful hum filled an apartment on Manehatten’s west side. It was one of the nicer neighborhoods in the city, made up both of old money nobles and new money investors. But it was the concentration of the former that had given it its nickname of Little Canterlot.

The continued existence of the Sombra line was not a commonly discussed thing in Equestria, but those relatives of the mad king who had escaped the disappearance of the Crystal Empire had left a legacy in the country. Through investments, both public and private, they had built a sizeable fortune.

But unlike many other noble families, House Sombra was more well known for what it didn’t do, than what it did do. House Sombra didn’t make their business public. They quietly gathered their fortune, accepted the royal accolades they earned without fanfare and made frighteningly few public appearances. Some of the rumors that swirled around the family claimed that the heads of the house lived an almost monk like existence, engaged in penance for their ancestors misdeeds.

Obsidian Noctem Quill was very much the exception. For him, there was nothing to be sorry for and he lived his life based on that idea. He trotted through his Manehatten loft with head held high and a happy tune from one of his favorite musicals on his lips. Today was going to be a wonderful day!

The sunlight of a fresh morning streamed into his kitchen through its wide bay windows, raising his spirits even further. He couldn’t wait to keep making progress on his latest production! Pouring himself a fresh cup of coffee he tossed a few pieces of bread into the toaster and then took a seat at the table.

A collection of notes on the production and its actors waited for him. He had come up with the observations last night. Most of them would were simple enough to fix with some work. Spring Fields though…. She was going to be a problem. And while Skitch might have been convinced that she could handle that mare, Quill wasn’t about to see this production be derailed by one pony’s paranoia! No. He would speak to the Flim Flam brothers. They were in charge and would be able to pull the problem pony from the show.

Freshly cooked toast popped into the air with a loud thunk, Quill neatly snatching it up with one smooth flick of magic. Munching on his morning repast as he made for the front door, he quickly threw his saddlebags on his back and set out into the city.

It really was shaping up to be a beautiful day this morning, the one thing that Celestia did well and without complaint moving steadily through the sky, so he decided to walk to the Flim and Flam offices, maybe stop for coffee on the way.

He strolled, more than walked, holding back the eagerness that threatened to burst from his seams. Soon, everypony would be able to see the truth about his family and the alicorns that had so slandered his ancestor. He wondered just how gullible the ponies he passed in the street were, to have never thought about the circumstances of a single pony that went on to become an alicorn walking away from the disappearance of a nation.

Arriving at Perfect Pegasus Production’s offices he was surprised to find them a little more bustling than usual. Flim and Flam stood at the center of a whirlwind of activity seemingly passing out instructions or papers or...something, to their employees.

“Flim? Flam?” he asked, approaching the pair of siblings. “What’s going on here?”

“Ah! There’s one of the ponies we wanted to see!” Flim grinned.

“Correct indeed oh brother of mine!” Flam nodded, pulling an envelope from a nearby stack. “Though I am surprised you’re here and not keeping tabs on your production.”

“Well, I have a problem with one of the actresses we’re stuck with. This Spring Fields? She seems a bit unbalanced. I would like her pulled from the production.”

“Nonsense! Her credentials are nonpareil!” Flim said.

“Besides, we’re completely confident in the production. Confident enough to let you and miss Skitch get on with things.”

Quill blinked as Flam shoved the envelope at him. Taking it in his aura, he examined the neat script on the front, Skitch-Sketch’s name clearly visible.

“Could you be a sport and deliver this to her when you head over?”

“Well...yes. But where will you two be?” Quill blinked.

“Back in Las Pegasus! We’ve been away from our movie projects for far too long! There are contracts to sign.” Flim began.

“Scripts to read.”

“Marketing and other promotions.”

“All in all, we’ve spent enough time in Manehatten for now. We’ll leave things in your confident, confident hooves.”

“But...what about Spring Fields?”

“Just give give that to Miss Sketch and everything should be fine by my boy.” Flam said.

“Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have an airship to catch.”

Quill blinked in confusion, staring at the envelope as the pair of producers swept past him. Running the events over and over again in his head, he came to a conclusion very quickly. Nothing about what had just happened made a bit of sense to him. Why on Equis would they just up and leave with almost a week of work left to go? Flim and Flam were known for being shrewd and very focused on making sure their productions made money. This was the time where things could go the the most wrong.

Those thoughts kept churning away in his head, searching for some kind of connection to the mare whose name floated before him. In theory it might contain some answers to what was going on. ...But on the other hoof, it was private correspondence. Could he really violate another pony’s trust?

The tearing sound of paper softly floated softly through the air, Quill realizing that he was already ripping it open. Scanning down the page, his eyes flitted restlessly from word to word. The content of the letter was direct and to the point.

Dear Miss Skitch-Sketch,

This official communication is to inform you that all official duties and powers of producer have been passed to you in the matter of The Darkness of the Crystal Empire. Such powers are included but not limited to, the ability to hire and fire anypony needed for the production, as well as all responsibilities for marketing and promotion. You are also authorized to make any script changes necessary to make a profit. We expect at least a twenty percent return on our investment.

-Flim and Flam

It was even notarized, with the stamp in the lower right corner, like any other official document. Now Quill was even more confused. A director already had a pile of responsibilities involving the actual play and making sure it ran properly. Producers had to run around and make sure it made money and was properly promoted. It was a role that involved a great deal of meetings and running around away from where the work of a director was done. Admittedly, his production was already funded quite well by Nouveau Riche but taking care of the marketing would without question pull Skitch-Sketch away from her actual job.

There was now no question in Quill’s mind. Somepony was trying to make Skitch-Sketch fail. Somepony was trying to make him fail! Somepony was trying to make sure that the truth was buried!

Cadance and Celestia.

It had to be them. And Skitch-Sketch was in a perfect position to be taken advantage of. Torn away from her home, the human would probably latch onto any kindness shown to her, and the alicorns were very, very good at being able to blind ponies with fake kindness. Now his meeting at The Palace was a rush to deliver a warning. Turning and rushing from the building, he just hoped that they’d be able to stop this plan in time!

Coffee.

Skitch’s tongue tingled from the light searing sensation of the coffee disappearing down her gullet. The delicious dark liquid stirred Skitch’s senses and pushed back the lingering sense of exhaustion that clung to her body. She had the feeling that this was going to be her lifeblood for the duration of this little exercise, especially when it came to staying awake.

Stretching her forelegs out and arching her back, she was thankful for the unicorn magic that let her hold her coffee while she popped every crack out of her poor stiff spine.

I probably looked like a cat doing that, she thought. Adorable, thy name is Skitch-Sketch.

She had ended up staying even later than everypony else, giving the script another look over and nervously examining everything about their hidden production so far. Then, in a decision that was probably excessively self punishing in nature, just slept at the theater that night so she could get an early start tomorrow. That wonderful decision had ended with her being exhausted and stiff, when she stirred in one of the dressing rooms in the morning. At that moment, she had vowed to herself that once she got her house back, she was going to sleep in, in her bed for a whole day. At least.

Cast and crew had filed in a little while ago and were milling about while they waited to get started. Most looked pretty tired as well, though they also looked quite nervous as was their expected state considering the circumstances. Rarity and Pinkie were also present, of course.

“Alright everyone. Let’s start running through The Producers again. Pinkie, if you can keep an eye on the door again for Quill. We’ll switch over as soon as he gets here.”

“Oki-doki-loki!”

“Other than that, just stick with what we’ve been doing so far and we’ll-”

The loud bang and rattle of the stage doors flying open cut her speech off and quick. Noctem Quill came stumbling up the stairs, sides heaving like he had just run a marathon race. Waving an envelope above his head, he stumbled over to Skitch and shoved the envelope in her face.

“You...have to see…,” he panted.

Carefully putting her coffee down, she took the envelope, Skitch raised an eyebrow at its ripped open nature and her name on the front. “....Did you open my mail?”

“Suspicious…,” Quill wheezed, clutching at his side. “Just...read….”

Flipping the letter open Skitch slowly scanned down the page. Her already raised eyebrow threatened to disappear into her mane as she read the letter three times over, just to make sure she understood it properly. Only once she was positive about what powers had been given to her, did she allow herself a wide smile.

“Oh my...it seems that I’ve been given authoritah.”

“What...exactly...is authoritah?” Spring Fields asked.

“It’s like authority, but better. I’m the producer now.”

A mummer rippled through the crowd, questions flying back and forth.

“Really?”

“Why give a human-

“Who cares! We might not have to do Quill’s piece of trash!”

Rolling her eyes, Skitch stomped a hoof against the stage floor to get everyone’s attention again. Quill, however, looked utterly confused.

“Do you not understand what’s happened here? There is no possible way you can handle all the duties of being director and producer! They’re two completely separate jobs! You’re being set up to fail!”

Had Skitch been in a situation where she actually had more sleep, she might have picked a different tact in dealing with Quill. But through the haze of tiredness and the stress of what she had been dealing with, there was no desire to use kids gloves on the deluded writer.

“I was being set up to fail the moment I was attached to your disaster of a production.”

That changed Quill’s tune and fast. “Disaster? My play is a hard hitting expose about a dark section of history that you don’t know a thing about!”

“Your play is a bunch of incoherent ramblings! You are insanely lucky that Celestia and Cadance are as nice as they are! Back on my world, the kind of sheer, unmitigated trash,” Skitch snapped, brandishing a copy of his script towards him, “that you are throwing their way would you get you sued!”

“You have no concept of the depths of Celestia’s deviousness!”

“Alright then Quill. Make your case.”

Quill froze. “Really?”

“You want to prove your inane conspiracy theory? Either put up, or shut up! Spell it out, let’s go!”

It took Quill a few moments for his brain to catch up but he beamed at the chance to lay out his case. “Well, the first piece is the fall of the Crystal Empire itself. If Sombra really was enslaving the Crystal Empire, why didn’t she act sooner?”

“Well, I haven’t had the chance to really delve into that bit of Equis history yet-”

“Ha!”

“....But, just going off the top of my head. Sombra could have been hiding what he was doing until some ponies managed to escape, Celestia might have been worried about Sombra killing his effective hostages and needed time to plan. In a similar vein, she might also have been worried about the kind of collateral damage that she could have done fighting him.”

“That is total speculation and you know it,” Quill pouted.

“So was your point. But, if you got more, keep on going.”

“It’s been a thousand years since the Crystal Empire vanished and there has been no progress in bringing it back.”

Skitch cocked her head at that. “How much magic do you know? I mean...what kind of magic makes a kingdom disappear? That doesn’t sound like normal unicorn magic to me. Maybe she is, but she doesn’t want to get everyone’s hopes up.”

“And the banishment of her sister?”

“....Are you thick? What do you think would have happened if there was eternal night across the world?”

“And how do you know she would have actually done that?! Celestia’s word?”

“Luna’s.”

Pinkie stepped forward an uncharacteristic frown. “Luna thanked us for helping her. She hated being stuck as that meanie Nightmare Moon!”

“Well…fine, she might have been right on that one. But that doesn’t mean she’s not a hidden tyrant.”

“You don’t know what tyranny is!” Skitch snapped. “Cause let me tell you chuckles, nothing that I’ve seen Celestia do compares to the likes of overthrowing democratically elected governments, like my home country did in Guatemala, Chile, Nicaragua, and Iran! Spoiler alert, none of those worked out well for us!”

“...Why would your government do that?” Quill asked.

His confusion made Skitch smirk more than she probably should have, but Quills confused expression confirmed all her thoughts about his experience with oppression.

“Because,” she said, slowly advancing on him, “because while many of those governments were chosen by their citizens, they chose ones that my country was opposed to on an ideological level. But even putting the politics of nations aside your play is still total crap!”

“What? No it’s not!”

“It’s full of horrible cliches, hackneyed dialogue and plot points that make absolutely no sense! You have no idea how hard it was for me to even pretend that this was good!”

For emphasis she threw the script at his hooves, the pages popping loose of their bindings and scattering across the stage. Quill scrambled to scoop them up again, shooting a glare back at Skitch.

“Just because you don’t have any taste-”

“You have a scene in there where Cadance actually turns to the audience and explains her evil plot! You might as well have given her a mustache to twirl!”

“It’s a non-diegetic moment!”

“And had it been a non-diegetic character song, at least it might have been interesting to look at! I’d call what you did character assassination, except that you did such a completely incompetent job that no one would ever be take your efforts seriously! We don’t want you here!”

“Shut up!”

Skitch moved in for the final strike. “The fact is, we have a different play now. One written by a man with actual talent, unlike you”.

“I told you to shut up!”

“May everypony that laughs at your sophomoric efforts be a reminder of your eternal mediocrity, and pierce your heart like a knife!”

The scattered pages dropped from Quills grip, the unicorn stumbling backwards with wide eyes. Without another word, he turned and ran from the building. Skitch sighed, sinking back to her haunches.

“Wow...that was...brutal,” Flash said after a long stretch of silence.

“I have to agree dear. Did you have to be so...vicious?”

“Probably not,” Skitch shrugged. “But people like him offend me on a deep level. Because of...reasons I’ll talk with you about later.”

“While I am glad that Quill’s gone, he wasn’t exactly wrong kid. I don’t see how you’re going to direct this thing and be a producer at the same time.” Marigold said.

“I’m well aware that it’s not ideal. But the way I see things, there’s now a slightly better chance of being able to pull this off without that millstone around our collective necks.”

Marigold rolled his eyes. “That still doesn’t sound like plan.”

“Look, just focus on your roles for now. I’ll be back in a few hours, tops, and we’ll see where we are.”

“And what are you going to do?” Rarity asked.

“Live up to an ethnic stereotype and try to control the media. Anypony know where a telegraph office is in relation to here?”

“Head two blocks east, then north. Should be on the corner.” Marigold said.

Ignoring the confused stares from most of the group, she headed for the door. As she left, Rarity looked at Pinkie Pie, coughing and jerking her head towards the retreating form of her friend. Pinkie nodded and followed, disappearing out the double doors a moment after Skitch.

Rarity turned to the cast and crew with a nod. “Well then, shall we get back to it?”

Author's Note

Ahh, Skitch. Acting a bit of a bully here, it seems.

She's under a lot of stress though. This totally won't come back to bite her. Nope. Not at all. And Suri remains a manipulative snake in the grass. But did that really surprise anyone?

Pinkie Prowling

The first thing that Pinkie did when she left The Palace was to dive behind a few crates to the left of the doors. She didn’t really know why they were there. Maybe so that the crew ponies could have a place to rest outside? Peeking over the edge of one crate, her eyes swept across the immediate area. No sign of Quill waiting to yell at Skitchy or anything. Satisfied with herself, Pinkie zipped forward to follow Skitchy as she began to cross the street.

Skitch did not turn around. “...Following me?”

Pinkie blinked, then giggled. “Ooo! How’d you know?” Just as quickly as she asked that question, a thought popped into her head. “Do you have Skitchy sense?!”

Skitch twisted her head about, raising an eyebrow at Pinkie. “What would that even be like?”

“I dunno. It’d be your sense silly!”

“Pinkie, you’re one of a kind.”

Pinkie’s heart jumped happily higher at the smirk that appeared on Skitch’s muzzle. She fell into step at her friend's side. “Soooooo~ooo, why are we going to a telegraph office?”

“Gonna send Twilight something. I think we’ve hit the point where I need to appeal to a higher power.”

Tilting her head slightly, Pinkie tried to puzzle that statement out. Twilight wasn’t a higher power! ...Well, maybe she was when it came to the Elements of Harmony, since they needed the crown to work, but she didn’t see how they would help Skitchy make a play. She was about to ask what Skitchy meant by that, when a shiver up her spine turned her eye.

A pale blue stallion with a balding white mane was just down the block from where they were standing. His hind legs were supported in a wheelchair and he shook a cup in his hooves, begging for bits and jangles. But something about him just make the roots of Pinkie’s coat itch and her ears flop.

Hmm. Itchy coat, shivery spine, flip-floppy ears. Something’s up here.

Humming to herself, Pinkie watched the mystery stallion closely. There had to be some reason she was feeling all squirmy about him. The stallion would occasionally glance their way and glance towards the The Palace amidst his panhoofing. After two glances though, he turned and rattled off through the crowd.

“Pinkie? Are you okay?”

“Oh!” she blinked, snapping back to reality. “Yuppers, I’m okay! Go on ahead Skitchy. I gotta go see something. See you back at The Palace!”

Taking off with a hopping skip, Pinkie began to follow the wheely blue peeper. She’d figure out what he was up to, or make a new friend!

Or both!

The Riche empire seemed like a massive, monolithic thing to most ponies. With the banks on one side and Filthy Riche’s Barnyard Bargains on the other, it was easy to think that it was all one united front of money generating excess.

In reality, the two were completely split. Filthy ran his business out of Ponyville and Canterlot, from his home in the former and some offices on the highest ring of the latter. They blended in with the communities that they were a part of, despite being larger than what your average working pony might have.

But Nouveau was a Manehattenite in addition to being- in Skitch-Sketch’s opinion- a total asshole. Both of those facts had a hoof in why his offices took up the top three floors of the Horseshoe Building. First National crossed the breadth and width of Equestria and beyond, reaching into most of Equestria’s immediate neighbors and investing in real estate wherever it could. That decision had been a very deliberate gamble on Nouveau’s part many years back, one that had panned out well. His company owned a great deal of the land that Equestria’s burgeoning industrial neighborhoods were now growing.

But none of that was what was on his mind today. The business was set up to largely run itself by design, letting Nouveau get involved when he wanted to and otherwise letting him reap the rewards.

The human dominated his thoughts today.

Driving the snake that lurked in Equestria’s midst away was of paramount importance. Manehatten had been visited by chaos as well during The Collector's attack. In the panic a few riots had broken out across the city, one of which had trashed several retail stores that he had just finished investing in. They had been effectively gutted and cleaned out by looters. And while his accountants were quick to remind him that it was only a few hundred thousand bits- a fraction of his true value- he saw the truth. Everything that he had built was already threatened once by a human and he would not see it happen again. Not to mention, the human was living in Ponyville with his granddaughter and he wouldn’t see Diamond Tiara hurt either.

Discrediting Skitch-Sketch was a nice start, but it was just that. With the Element Bearers backing her up she would be hard to dislodge. Not without driving a wedge between the human and her "friends". A half dozen plans of how to do just that were scattered across his desk, while a half a dozen others lay safely tucked away in a drawer. Off limits thanks to the pony that sat across from him.

Blueblood, despite being very gung ho about their plans at the beginning, was now beginning to show a bit of uncertainty. Or at least he had been. A few well placed words had seemed to bring him back on board. Still, best to table any actions against the Element Bearers for now.

“So, are you satisfied Blueblood? No plans against the Element Bearers.”

“Yes, I am satisfied for now,” Blueblood sighed, dropping one of the thick envelopes back to desk. “Now that you're not declaring war against the Element Bearers.”

“To be fair, I’m quite sure that the human would have folded before it got to that point,” Nouveau shrugged, “but once we ruin her reputation, running her out of Equestria will be a lot easier.”

“Where did you dig this Quill up anyway?”

“I’ve been trying to buy some property from his family for a while now. Some of their insults directed my way have compared me to the dear Quill. They don’t care for me much.”

The sounds of arguing began to intrude upon their conversation. Feminine pleading mixed with a aggravated male voice. Riche got to his hooves as the door to his office burst open and the aforementioned Quill stormed into the room, his brown furrowed, frown almost baring teeth, ears folded back and eyes watery. Riche’s secretary was right on his tail, incensed as she jabbed at the stallion’s side.

“I told you that you can’t just burst in here! If you don’t leave right now, I’ll send for the guard-”

Riche waved her off. “It’s alright Daisy, I can handle this.”

Daisy looked from boss to new pony, still glowering deeply. But she nodded and backed out of the room, pointing to her own eyes and then to Quill before stomping back to her desk. Quill didn’t pay attention to her, instead keeping his glare fixed right on Riche. The two had met exactly once before and that was when he approached the stallion with Flim and Flam about using his play.

“Did you fund my production just to make a fool out of me?”

“Now, why would you ask something like that?” Riche asked. It was a legitimate question. There was really no reason for Quill to be here, questioning their arrangement, unless something had gone wrong.

“Because the producer role was just signed over to my director! And when I tried to warn her that she was being set up to fail, she laughed in my face and told me that had been happening since she was stuck with my play! And now she’s doing something completely different!”

So, something had gone wrong. Flim and Flam had obviously gone rogue, though the reason why would have to be worked out later. At the moment, Riche had to salvage this situation.

“Skitch-Sketch might believe that, yes. But how much does she really understand? She’s not from Equestria. She doesn’t know our history.”

The frown didn’t leave Quill’s face. “None of the others disagreed with her. They just stared.”

“And here I thought you were used to your family being oppressed.”

Quill bit his lip hard enough to draw blood before responding. “None of this is adding up! I’m not sure who’s playing me, but I’m pretty sure that somepony is!”

“Oh? And you assume it’s me?” Riche pressed a hoof to his breast in mock indignation. “I am a legitimate banker and a pillar of Equestria! She is a creature from outside this world, wearing the form of some other pony!”

“What, exactly, would be her goal? If she’s behind this, all she’s done has doubled her work load and possibly made herself look a fool!”

“How am I supposed to know what thoughts slither through her alien mind? Quill...you have to understand, she may look like a pony, she may talk like a pony. She is not a pony. Don’t assume she has the same thoughts and desires as a pony. But I promise you this. I had nothing to do with this sudden change of events.”

Quill scuffed a hoof along the floor, his frown giving way to a furious pout. Blueblood, by contrast, decided to speak up. “What are we supposed to do then? Skitch might actually slip loose unless we take action.”

Blueblood had a point, of course. But if Skitch-Sketch had been given authority as a producer, forcing her to do the Cadance character assassination piece was out. The only other option to damage her reputation would be to make the current production fail and fail spectacularly. Riche rubbed his chin for a moment. He had already put some bits towards the physical aspects of the production. Nothing that could be done about that. Marketing was likewise locked in place. All of the pieces in the upcoming newspaper releases would discuss Quill’s production and he was quite sure that Skitch didn’t have the money to replace them.

The human’s only option would be to offer interviews to Manehatten’s newspapers about the production, an offer that most would jump at thanks to the fake interview “she” had already given. But, if he could block that, then Skitch’s production would most likely fail financially. Then he could twist the knife.

Really, it was a long way away from what he wanted, tieing her to a scandal involving the royals. But it would have to do.

“Alright Blueblood, Quill, let’s go pay the papers a visit. Then perhaps send a message.”

“I really should have brought Rarity along.”

Everywhere Pinkie Pie looked, she was surrounded by nice looking buildings, full of trendy shops selling clothes and jewelry and sweets and what looked like coffee and- “Oooo! Cupcakes!” she said, zipping over to the shop that had caught her attention. The glass was cool against her snout as she examined the small forest of fluffy cake, topped with delicate and lacy drizzles of frosting. “Mmmm….frosting…”

But almost as quickly as her mind had seized upon the delicious cupcakey goodness, her memory spoke up.

“No! Focus Pinkie!” she said, pulling herself aware from the delicious looking sweets. “You’re here for a reason!”

That reason had disappeared into one of the other buildings down the block, so Pinkie pushed the thoughts of cake from her mind and skipped her way towards the square, white stone (limestone unless she was mistaken), green roofed building. Sitting at an intersection of two streets, it sat on the corner, it’s thin tall windows and intricate carving making it look like a doll house. Or something that Rarity would build.

Slipping through the entrance Pinkie was greeted by a few doors and some stairs, leading up to a second floor. The wheelchair that the mysterious stallion had been using lay discarded in the hall, near the base of the staircase.

“Ah ha! So he was up to something!”

Hooking a hoof over the edge of the chair, Pinkie pulled it along as she hopped up the stairs. Hitting the landing, she moved to the first door and knocked. The door creaked open a few moments later, an older mare poking her head out. With a pale lavender coat and peach colored mane that was pulled back in a bun she reminded Pinkie of her mother.

“Hi!” Pinkie grinned, “My name’s Pinkie Pie! I’m looking for a pony. Blue coated stallion, might have had this wheelchair?”

“I’m afraid not dear.”

The door was quickly snapped closed. Pinkie shrugged and moved down to the next door. This one was answered by a younger stallion, about her own age. A dark brown fedora mark offset his golden-wheat colored coat and dark brown mane and tail. Said mane was kept cut short as to not interfere with the actual dark brown fedora he was wearing.

But, more importantly, Pinke could see past him into the living room, where the strange stallion from before was sitting, rocking back and forth on the cushions slightly.

“Ah ha! There you are!” Pinkie declared, jabbing a hoof at him. “Why were you watching us at The Palace?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did my uncle bother you?” the new stallion asked.

“Your uncle?”

“Yeah…I’m really sorry if he upset you at all. He’s just obsessed with that place, Miss…?”

“Pinkie Pie! Who are you?”

“Fancy Hooves,” he answered with a very friendly smile. “Again, just let me apologize for my uncle’s actions. Tried to make it as an actor before his mind started to go.”

He twirled a hoof to emphasize his point which seemed to set off Fancy’s uncle. “I will not accept anything less than a full dressing room to myself, four dozen purple hydrangeas! HOOVES! HOOVES MARCHING ACROSS ZEBRICA!”

Pinkie blinked, taking a half step back from the door. Despite the fact the hallway was empty it felt like a few dozen eyes were suddenly on her. Maybe her Pinkie Sense had been wrong this time?

“Can I have his wheelchair?” Fancy asked. “I know that he doesn’t actually need it, but there’s kind of a sentimental value attached to it.”

“Uhh...okay….”

She pushed it forward, Fancy Hooves quickly pulling it back into the apartment. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t bother you again.”

He clicked the door closed, leaving Pinkie feeling very confused. She had been so sure that pony had been up to something. But he had looked pretty out of it just then….

“No! I have to know for sure!”

There was a window at the end of the hallway, so Pinkie trotted for it, slid it open and peeked out. A little veranda was clearly visible past another window, a pair of doors made up of a lot of little panes of glass leading back into an apartment. Ducking back in, she glanced towards the door she had just been at. They looked like they lined up evenly.

Returning to the window Pinkie leaned forward, half crawling through the gap. Scrunching up her face and sticking her tongue out Pinkie reached for the ledge of the next window over. As her hoof landed on the stone, she kicked off with her hind legs, swinging herself out and over. Hind hooves landed solidly against the side of the building, she began to shuffle towards the veranda, one inch at a time.

“Hop, skip and a jump!” she said, pulling herself up and onto the veranda. Diving behind a pair of chairs, she peered over the back of one and into the apartment. Fancy Hooves and his uncle were talking, and Pinkie could just make out their conversation through the open doors.

“You went and staked out The Palace, didn’t you Mozz?” Fancy Hooves asked.

“I wanted to be thoroughly informed of all relevant players! Unknown variables lead to chaos in plans.”

“And did you factor in the chaos value that one of the Elements of Harmony would add to this plan? And what’s with the wheelchair?”

He motioned to the device in question with a hoof.

“...What can I say, I love the classics.” Mozz shrugged.

Fancy rolled his eyes. “Well, if the classics are done almost getting us caught, can we work on planning the actual job now? We need to be ready when we get the signal.”

Pinkie bit back the urge to gasp. She was right! They were up to something!

Mozz trotted over to a table, tapping a hoof against a stack of papers there. “I’ve been thinking about that actually and I think we need to change the plan. If we really want to derail Riche’s banking empire, then arranging the sales of shares to other companies isn’t going to cut it. Riche can always just stop the sale before the transaction could pass the Celestia’s regulatory laws.”

“And since you’ve been thinking about this, you have a replacement plan?”

“That I do!” Mozz grinned. “The simplest way to bring down the metaphorical elephant is with a bigger elephant or, in this case, alicorn.”

“You want to use an alicorn to wreck the business of one of the most powerful bankers in Equestria?”

Fancy’s tone was quite deadpan but Mozz grinned a bit wider. Pinkie just stared. She might not know Canterlot and the princesses as well as Twilight, but this sounded super duper crazy!

“In this case, the law is actually on our side. Equestrian statutes are quite clear that when a bank finds themselves short of funds to cover withdrawals, that a crown audit must be conducted to ensure that the bank isn’t engaged in any malfeasance.”

Fancy tilted his head slightly, but Pinkie could see his eyes light up. “That sounds vaguely familiar….So, you want to arrange a bits shortage and let things go from there? Mozz...there’s no way we could steal enough money from the banks to make that work.”

“All we have to do is hit the largest branch in Manehatten. It not only serves the nobility but, more importantly, there’s a slight flaw in the design of the vault. Can I borrow your sketchpad?”

Retrieving both it and a stick of charcoal from the art supply shelf, Nickel passed both over to his friend. Mozz quickly set to drawing as he continued to explain.

“It was built out of an old set of barracks before they were expanded. I dug up some old plans that show an old drain pipe, with the entrance to the stack right under the floor, that runs down into the closed off sections of the sewer system.”

“So, what, we pry a section of the floor up, dump the gold into the sewer and collect it later?”

“I have some acid that’ll eat through the seal of the flagstones and some glue that’ll let us put it back. We steal the gold, tip off the crowns, and let nature take its course.”

“Your own personal blend?”

“Like I’d use anything else.”

Fancy considered the drawn plans for a moment before nodding. “So, we were hired by nobles to ruin a banker, that we’re going to do by stealing from nobles?”

“An irony upon which we’ll have plenty of time to ruminate over while we count our ill gotten gains.”

Fancy considered things for a moment, before nodding. “Alright. Let’s go case the place out.”

They headed out the front door, leaving Pinkie on the veranda with a whole bunch of questions and conflicting feelings kicking around her head.

“Ohhhh...now what do I do?”

Skitch-Sketch looked at what she had written for what felt like the third time. A small mountain of crumpled pieces of paper lay scattered across the writing counter of the crowded telegraph office. A few impatient ponies, waiting for some space at the crowed table to open up, tapped their hooves in an rapid patter to try and make her hurry up. Ignoring them, she focused on the letter in front of her. This was her Hail Mary Pass. The word of her new status would inevitably work its way back to Riche and then he'd start to get creative. Jacoby Flynn, griffin extrodinare, had summed up battling nobility quite well. It was not a sprint but a long, grinding war of attrition.

This was her calling for help.

It was a message within a message. The first section was addressed to Twilight and cut straight to the point, asking if she could forward the next part directly onto Princess Celestia and reiterating that it was really, really important. The section where princess part had taken some thought.

Dear Princess Celestia,

It’s Skitch-Sketch. I...had a great deal of consternation over whether or not to write you this letter. After all, ponies that have done a lot more for this country haven’t called upon you directly for help.

The long and the short of it is that I’ve been lured to Manehatten by a pony named Nouveau Riche, the pony who controls the deed of my house, supposedly to do some special effects work on a play. I’m also sure that reports of “my” statement to the press about making some kind of grand production over the history of Princess Cadance has reached you by now.

I would just like to say, that wasn’t me. I’m pretty sure that Riche hired a Changeling or something. But I do find myself now directing and producing a play. Someone has jumped off Riche’s script, so I’m quite sure he’s going to try and retaliate somehow and from where I’m sitting, the only option I really have is to make this thing a success.

So, I am officially inviting you, Luna and Cadance to our grand premiere in three days time to see an adaptation of one of my favorite movies on the stage. It is called The Producers and is the story of a producer and an accountant who- as part of an attempt to make a great deal of money- try to make the worst play, EVER MADE! Naturally, the play turns out to be loved and their plans fall apart. I like to consider this one a bit of a showcase of human media. Maybe kind of show all my detractors that I’m not like The Collector.

I would be honored if you could join us.

Your visiting alien,

Skitch-Sketch

Satisfied that it was as good as it was going to be, Skitch slid the message and a decent stack of bits across the counter to a bored and grumpy looking stallion in a dark blue cap.

“Send it as soon as possible, please.”

“That’s what the extra bits are for lady. Where can we find you if they send a response?”

“Either at the Palace Theater or the Royal Hotel.”

Sweeping the bits into a drawer, the employee swept off to send the telegraph. With her part done, at least for now, Skitch turned and headed out. Now it was time for the final rush towards the finish line. Head down, smash on through, and let the dice fall where they may.

The needle dove into the fabric again, propelled by a flick of magic and expertly aimed from years of experience. As the seam was stitched into place Rarity lifted the jacket up, examining it for any flaws or missed stitches. Between herself, Coro, Suri, and the few ponies that had been waiting for their costumes to be fitted, the small wardrobe room had been rather cramped. Thankfully, the three of them were getting the work done quickly enough, and were done to one more fitting for now. Satisfied that the jacket was without major flaw, Rarity waved Marigold over to her.

“See how this fits dear.”

Marigold slid the jacket on, rolling his shoulders a few times to see how the cloth felt on his figure. Rarity watched, keenly observing the way it moved, making sure that it wasn’t pulling too tight, or otherwise restricting the actor’s movement.

“Feels fine to me Miss Rarity.”

Rarity beamed, neatly taking the coat as it was passed back to her. As Marigold left, she neatly folded the garment and set it aside for now. “Smashing! Suri, Coco, how are yours coming?”

Coco smoothed out the skirt of an elegant gown intended for the brief appearance of Princess Cadance in the new play. It was supposed to be a minor appearance, near the end. More of an in joke that Skitch had thrown in at the last moment for those familiar with the behind the scenes story.

“The gown is done,” she said with a nervous smile.

Suri looked over the racks of other finished a clipboard and list in hoof. “M’kay, so are the other suits and our smoking jacket for our leads, and most of the bits for our extras. Really the last big thing is our fake Sombra outfit.”

Rarity frowned. “Ah, yes. For the play within the play.”

From what Skitch had told her so far, it was a part of the production that was supposed to read as funny to the audience for the sheer audacity and absurdity of it all. Indeed, she described it as “crossing the line twice”, though Rarity wasn’t entirely sure what the line was in this situation. Expectations, perhaps? Either way, it called for the right kind of costume.

While her first instinct was to create a historically accurate copy of Sombra’s costume, she wasn’t entirely sure if that was right. Over the top needed something….more. Maybe some glitter and sequins to make the lord of shadows and darkness sparkle like a gem?

Idly reaching out with her magic, Rarity yanked her sketchbook over and flipped it open to a blank page. She was surprised to find herself looking at her designs for the World Cup uniforms-

No.

Her eyes narrowed as she examined the sketches. These weren’t hers. Similar, perhaps, but clearly not her line work. Before she could consider that much further, the book was ripped from her grip by a pink hoof. Frowning deeply now, Rarity looked up into the wide eyes of Suri Polomare.

“That’s your book, I’m assuming.”

Rarity noticed the harshness in her voice and the almost accusatory tone, but she didn’t particularly care at the moment either.

“Yes,” Suri said, after a few uncomfortable moments.

“And you decided to steal my designs because?”

“I didn’t steal your designs! Those are my own! One hundred percent!”

“Why are you doing them then? My father hired me for this particular job.”

It seemed that Suri was considering what to say at first, as she bit her lip. But then with a new sense of resolve, she nodded once.

“Not anymore. Now I’m doing the job.”

“...What?”

“I don’t know what to say if your father hasn’t told you, but we spoke and he’s letting me handle the designs from here on out.”

Rarity blinked, then stomped forward, a truly furious sneer appearing on her muzzle. “You followed me? You convinced me to speak to my father and followed me?! All to steal a contract?”

Suri snorted. “That wasn’t my plan or anything, m’kay. I just wanted in. You’re the one who decided to have a fight with your dad! Besides, this is probably better for both of you, since you obviously need time apart.”

The sting of embarrassment burned its way through Rarity, her ears flicking flat as bile rose in the back of her throat. “You-”

“Don’t blame me for driving your family away! I don’t know what you did, but you’re the one who hurt your father enough to make me a more attractive candidate!”

That argument slapped Rarity across the face, making her take a shocked step backwards. She dearly and truly wished to argue that point, but the fact remained that she had gone there to try and make up over a previous outburst and had instead made things worse.

“Leave. Please.”

Suri seemed ready to argue but the objection died in her throat as Coco rushed for the door. So, she followed her assistant with a huff. Once they were gone, Rarity kicked the door closed behind her, flopped down onto a pile unneeded costumes, and cried.

She wasn’t sure how long she had been trying when there was a series of rapid hoof knocks on the door. The rapid and disjointed pattern was a dead give away to the identity of her guest.

“Go away Pinkie! I want to be alone!”

“But Rarity! It’s really important! I found ponies who are planning super bad stuff!”

“Oh, go talk to Skitch about it! I’m sure she’ll have some marvelous ideas on how to handle it!”

“But-”

“Pinkie, leave me alone!”

Slowly and with great hesitation, Pinkie’s hoof falls slowly moved away from the room. Rarity returned to her misery, great sobs wracking her body, memories of every fight she had ever had with her father playing through her mind. The tears flowed and flowed and flowed, until she was hiccuping on dry sobs, the dress under her hooves thoroughly soaked. The sound of hoof falls approached again, quickly this time, and three sharp knocks echoed against the door.

“I said, I want-”

The door was forcibly swung open and Rarity twisted to see Skitch-Sketch stride into the room with a determined look on her face. Sitting down next to Rarity, Skitch draped a leg over her body and pulled her friend close.

“You’re back,” Rarity blinked, leaning into the hug all the same.

“Yup. Pinkie told me you were down here.”

Pinkie’s head peeked into the room now, uncharacteristically nervous and downtrodden. “Rarity? Now can I come in?”

“Get in here Pinkie,” Skitch said, booking no argument.

With a relieved smile, Pinkie belly flopped onto the dress pile, also throwing a leg around Rarity and hugging her as well.

“Hug sandwich!”

Rarity giggled in spite of her misery, the warmth of her friends coats and bodies almost a blanket. Rubbing at her eyes with the back of her hoof, she took a shuddering breath, grappling with her emotions.

“What happened?” Skitch asked, maintaining her hug.

“I ruined my relationship with my father and then that charming Suri Polomare swooped in and stole the World Cup contract. Because my father and I need ‘distance’. Because it’s all my fault.”

“Why is it your fault?” Pinkie asked.

“And Suri is totally fired,” Skitch said.

Rarity snorted. “Please, spare me your nonsense Skitch. What Suri did was despicable but it wasn’t tied to anything we’re doing.”

“Okay, first of all, now that I have authoritah, I’ll fire whoever I want. And two….”

Skitch peered at her for a moment, before reaching down, grabbing Rarity’s tail in her teeth and giving a sharp yank. Rarity’s yelp was quite undignified as she was unceremoniously dragged back to her hooves.

“What are you doing darling?”

“We’re going to get some ice cream and talk.”

“Really? Ice cream?”

“Yeah!” Pinkie grinned, bouncing right out the door. “ICE CREAM!”

Skitch nodded, throwing a leg over her withers and beginning to guide her towards the door. “Ice cream.”

An argument was halfway out of Rarity’s mouth already. But Skitch resolutely pressed a hoof to her lips and began to steer her towards the door. Misery still clinging to her, Rarity didn’t offer much resistance as she was lead upstairs, past the groups of still practicing performers and towards the doors. Skitch paused only long enough to wave the crowd down.

“Flash, you’re in charge while I’m gone. Run them through some of those musical numbers you’ve written so far. And check with Quartz to see how we’re doing on the sets.”

“You’re leaving again? You just got back.”

“I won’t be gone long. My friend needs me,” Skitch answered, before her eyes swept through the crowd for her next target. Suri was standing near the back of the group, almost like she was hiding. Not that it saved her from Skitch’s angry glare. “Polomare. You’re fired. If you have any brains in that skull of yours, don’t be here when I get back.”

“What? Why?”

Rarity felt Skitch’s muscles tense under her coat, the hug growing a little tighter. “Just...don’t. Don’t try to weasel out of what you did to my friend. I am serious. Make yourself scarce.

Rarity smiled to herself, following Skitch with a little more cheer. At least her friends were there when she needed them.

Chocolate. A balm for the spirit.

Pinkie Pie had honed in on a delightful looking ice cream parlor in quick order. Quick enough that Rarity wondered if her friend had a seperate sweet sense in addition to her Pinkie Sense.

Grabbing another full spoon of her rich chocolate treat, Rarity wolfed it down. She was showing very little of her usual lady-like poise in her attack of the chocolate sundae, with chocolate sauce and perfectly fresh cherries for the toppings The bowel was already half empty, and they had just gotten their treats a few minutes ago. Pinkie’s face was partially obscured by her collection of ice cream flavors as she ate away. Skitch was leaning back in in their circular booth, a dish of vanilla and mint bobbing in her aura.

“Feeling better? Ice cream heals all wounds.” she said.

Rarity sighed. “Well, yes, perhaps a little. But I still don’t know what I’m going to do about my father.”

Skitch’s spoon poked at her treat, the human turned unicorn pointedly not looking at Rarity. “I’m not sure I’m really qualified to talk about this Rare. Things weren’t exactly serene between my family and I before I…left.”

“Darling...if anything I’d say that makes you more qualified. You’ve been here before.”

For a moment, Rarity feared that she had pushed too far, for Skitch’s half hearted stabs at her ice cream grew more intense, spoon clacking loudly against the bowl. But then she put both down, straightened up in her seat and gave a simple nod.

“Okay...like I said a few days ago when we first got here, I am Jewish. We’re...kind of a religion, ethnic group and nationality all rolled into one. ….It’s complicated. But the important thing is that there’s a nation of Jewish people called Israel. To paraphrase a whole bunch of very complex history, it owes its existence to a colonial empire pulling out of the area it was in and telling two different groups that they could both have the land. My own people and the followers of another one of the world’s great faiths, Islam.”

Rarity wrinkled her snout. Some of the other powers on Equis engaged in colonial ambitions, something that Celestia had spoken out against multiple times.

“It was really the starting point of a bunch of conflicts that would span the next fifty plus years. Jews and Arabs fighting each other over who deserves to stay there. And because it’s all tied up in already volatile subjects like religion, nationalism and ethnic pride it quickly became a ‘my people, right or wrong’ kind of thing. And for my dad...being Jewish was a really important part of his identity. I was raised to be a good Jewish boy and he even had me take Hebrew lessons when I was younger. Never mind that the number of people who speak that language in the United States is statistically insignificant!”

Pinkie reached over and rubbed her friend’s back. “Calm down Skitchy.”

“...Sorry. It’s just…,” Skitch sighed, giving a helpless shurg. “Look, as I grew older, I started to stop believing in the existence of God and the whole Isreal and Palestine conflict started to just look like real black on black morality, with the poor people who just wanted to live their daily lives caught in the middle. So, I stopped going to temple. I stopped really doing Jewish things...at least the ones tied to the religion specifically. And my dad and I fought all the time about that.”

“I have to ask then darling...were you able to solve that?”

“Kind of…. Eventually, it became a topic that we both agreed to just not talk about. At all.”

“I don’t like the implications of that darling. I...I want my father to accept me. Not avoid me. I want him to trust my decisions.”

“He helped you become a mare though,” Pinkie said. “He cares.”

Rarity pouted. “But he thinks that I’m lying to myself about what I like.”

“Not to start up a game of misery poker, but that already puts you way ahead of a lot of transgendered people back on earth,” Skitch said. “He could have put you in a camp to try and have your deviant lifestyle prayed or beaten away.”

The knee jerk reaction came fast and furious. “Skitch! How dare you say that my father would do something so...so horrible!”

Her friend’s expression was impassive. “I’m not throwing slings towards your dad Rare. I’m saying that by the standards of some of the horror stories I know from my own country, you’ve had a very...good experience transitioning.”

“That doesn’t mean her feelings can’t be hurt Skitchy.”

“I’m not saying that either! I guess what I’m saying is that….well, he might not ever really understand it. If you were a sporty little colt, reconciling that with the fashionista is just going to be hard. I can only imagine how my family would react to me right now.”

“So, am I supposed to just give up? Let us...drift apart?”

“Of course not! But take a little bit of time for things to cool down and then try to reach out again. It might never work out, but it can’t hurt to try.”

“Yeah! And you’ll always have us, and Applejack and Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy and Twilight and Spike to help!” Pinkie said, almost bouncing out of her seat.

Sighing, Rarity nodded. “I suppose that you are right. At least I can always count on my friends.”

A current of magic raised Skitch’s dish. “Here’s to friends then.”

“To friends,” Rarity responded, raising hers.

“Friends!” Pinkie beamed, brandishing her boat like sundae in both hooves.

The clink of dishes rang through the booth and Rarity smiled, feeling a little bit better. Returning to her dessert, the chocolate flavor stirred another memory in the back of her mind.

“Pinkie darling, didn’t you have something you wanted to tell me earlier?”

“Oh. Yeah.”

Pinkie’s mood fell back into a moping downcast as she drummed her hooves off the edge of the table. “I followed a pony that was watching the theater. I heard him and a friend talking about stealing a whole lot of bits from that Riche meanie.”

“Really? Why?” Skitch asked.

“They want to wreck his company and force Celestia to take over. I didn’t know if I should tell anypony, so I wanted to ask Rarity for advice.”

“Why ever would you not tell somepony? What they’re doing is wrong! And what about all the ponies that would be hurt by losing their bits?”

“I know, I know! But he took Skitch’s house! He was going to ruin Marigold’s career just to ruin Skitch’s reputation! He’s a horrible pony!”

“Maybe so,” Skitch frowned, massaging her temples. “But as much as I’d love to see him crash and burn...it isn’t right. And I’m not going to make one of my friends and an Element of Harmony be so...under hooved.”

Any further comments from Skitch were cut off by Pinkie, who threw a leg around her and yanked her into a hug.

“Thanks Skitchy.”

“We’ll telegraph Twilight on the way back, and she can message Celestia. Probably best that she know what some ponies are planning on using her for. And then...we put on a show.”

Author's Note

The scene in the ice cream parlor was reworked a few times. And it still feels like it might have come across as a little too info dumpy. Ah well.

Skitch's disillusioned brand of atheism might seem odd, considering that she has been too realities where gods are tangible things. In my mind, she pretty much rationalizes it as "some universes had gods, but mine sure as hell doesn't." If Celestia was more into having ponies worship her, Skitch might be more inclined to do that, since she has objective proof that Celestia is real.

Also, I like to think that this goes without saying, but let's keep trash talking or political discussion about the actual Israeli/Palastinian conflict outta the comments please.

Never Say "Good luck!" on Opening Night

Newspapers make a satisfying swat when they hit the wall.

Nouveau Riche was growing increasingly fed up with the alien running around in a pony coat, that had managed to sidestep another one of his plans. His influence had seen all of the advertising that he had initially paid for was pulled and his bits returned. Then reports had been scattered in the entertainment sections of most of Manehatten’s major papers, all of them detailing various behind the scenes chaos that was unfolding with the new production. He particularly liked what The Daily Jewel said on the third day about Skitch being so crazy Nocturne had left for more reasonable waters.

The fact that they were all lies was inconsequential. He didn’t care what they made up, just as long as he won and she lost. But Skitch had been oddly resistant so far, a fact that made him grind his teeth in frustration. He had dug up that gods awful Nocturne. He’d pried him out of his family’s shame mansion. He’d carved out his empire with his bare hooves; no magic, no flight, just his brilliance and will.

But now...now….

The doors to his office swung open, Blueblood strolling in, rolled up copy of the same paper in his aura. He opened his mouth to say something but stopped at the sight of the scattered headlines, whipped against the far wall.

“So, you’ve seen it already then?”

Riche tore the new newspaper from Blueblood’s grip, glowering as he stared at the front page. The infuriatingly serene smile of Princess Celestia beamed up at him, right above a bold headline.

Celestia and Cadance to View First Human Inspired Media!

The following piece was mostly fluff. Mostly. But Celestia had slipped in more than a few comments about how she was eagerly looking forward to seeing what Equestria’s “visiting guest” had to share “in the bonds of cultural exchange and friendship”. It quickly joined its sibling on the other side of the room.

“Her naivete disgusts me.”

“I’m sure that fact will break her heart,” Blueblood said.

Riche gave Blueblood his most furious, subordinate crushing glare. The Duke remained quite blase, a slight roll of his eyes the only response. Riche snorted and began to pace behind his desk.

“Give me your take Blueblood. You’re always interacting with Celestia while attending to the affairs of government. What do you think we should do?”

“Give up.”

“Excuse me?”

Blueblood shrugged, gathering up the scattered pieces of newsprint. “Celestia has obviously decided to stop being neutral in this and she’s come down on the human’s side. Which means that it’s possible that she’ll testify on Skitch’s behalf in her lawsuit. Settle, move on, and get back to running a business.” He paused for a moment, then shrugged, “And maybe keep a plan or two in your saddlebags if she does turn out to be a monster.”

Turning away, Riche’s eyes roamed over his bookshelves, not really looking at anything. His mind was mulling over Blueblood. What was his game? So gung at the start of their little conspiracy, but all of the sudden...hesitant. He was either running some kind of game or Celestia had managed to cow him into giving up the plan.

“No spine at all, eh? Just going to roll over?” Riche said.

“Show some common sense Riche! If you keep going after Skitch, you’re just going to add fuel to her accusations against you. Unless she spontaneously drops dead, I don’t see how you’re going to drive her out of Equestria.”

“If the production fails tonight, I’ll have all I need,” Riche said. He banged his hoof off the desk for emphasis. “A disastrous production in front of two of Equestria’s princesses? Her reputation would be ruined.”

“Maybe in the theater world, yes. But until you dragged her into this, she seemed perfectly fine not being a part of it. Besides, how would you actual sabotage anything there without it being tied back to you?” Blueblood asked, his voice about as deadpan as Riche had ever heard.

Riche frowned, stopping his frantic pacing. “There is still Quill. He’s been pestering me about the situation for the past three days. I think he’s going slightly mad at the loss of his ‘great work’. It probably wouldn’t take much prodding to push him over the edge. You know the stories about how unstable the Sombra line is.”

That caused the first crack in Blueblood’s impassive mask. He raised an eyebrow, nervously dragging a hoof across the carpet.

“That could go very poorly. You can’t control Nocturne if he goes nuts.”

“If he goes too far, that’s his fault and he will pay the consequences,” Rich said, adding in a dismissive hoof wave for good measure. “Besides, you’ve seen the stallion. Are you honestly going to tell me he looks capable?”

Blueblood’s eyes narrowed and he tugged at the collar of the immaculate suit, the same color as his coat. “And, just like that, you are on your own. I will have nothing to do with a pony that is engaging in such suicidal stupidity! You are giving that human just enough rope to hang you with!”

“My granddaughter lives in the same town as that thing!” Riche roared, slamming both hooves down on his desk. “And I am not going to let this go! Not without one more try! Tonight’s the premiere. This is my last chance.”

“So...what is your plan?”

“A well written note, supposedly coming from Skitch, should push Nocturne into trying to wreck the play.”

Again, Blueblood’s reaction was slight. A simple flick of his ears. “...You’re playing a dangerous game here Riche. And it is one that I have no desire to be a part of.”

So, Celestia had somehow gotten to him. “Blueblood...I would think very carefully about what you’re about to do.”

“Already thought and come to my conclusions. You have lost your mind, I will not be involved, and if you come after me...well, I would recommend against it.”

“You’re a spineless traitor Blueblood! You’ve been just as worried about her as me!”

“Maybe. But I’m more confident with my own ability to handle the situation than I am with following your...plan.” He gave the briefest of nods to Riche before turning and heading for the door. “Good luck Riche.”

“Don’t you walk out on me!” Riche barked.

When Blueblood ignored him, he grabbed a paper weight off the desk and hurled it at the smug unicorn. It impacted against the door, a few inches away from Blueblood’s head. He spared the slightest of glances back towards Riche before slipping through it and leaving him alone.

Growling under his breath, Riche angrily slammed the button on the intercom. “Daisy! Get in here! I have something I need you to do!”

In his carriage, now that things were falling apart, Blueblood worked quickly. Carriage writing was always sloppy. Blueblood simply could never get the paper to hold still.

It has to be tonight.

His horn flashed, the paper vanished and the noblestallion sank back in his seat. They’d forgive the ink stains.

There was an odd relationship between a writer and alcohol. At least that’s how it felt from Quill’s point of view.

Usually, he’d have a glass while working on his latest play, letting whatever drink he had chosen from his stores help stir the creativity and get his mind wandering down the myriad paths of creativity, where he would build towering creations to the depths of a pony’s soul!

Tonight’s chosen bottle was vodka, imported from across the sea. From the snow bound lands of the wolves. Some ponies looked down their snouts at drinking in the morning, throwing disapproving “tut-tuts” about like so many slings stones. But when they had never climbed so high, or fallen so low, how could they possibly make an informed decision? Snorting, he reached for the bottle to fill his glass again. Hoof clinked against glass, badly aimed and shaking, which sent the bottle toppling over. It smashed against the tile, the remaining vodka lost on the floor.

Perhaps he had drank enough.

His ears flicked towards the front door, a truly deafening cacophony playing out on the wood. An angry chorus of knocks, surely delivered by some manner of deranged harpy. Or perhaps it was the traitor skin-stealer come to rub her victory in his snout? Or Riche with some new half baked scheme of absolute madness that would see his heart dashed upon the rocks once more. Flopping out of his love seat, he wandered towards the door in a circuitous pattern. One had to be careful to avoid the furniture when supping on vodka. So, walking slow was the order of the morning. Slow and steady. Very steady.

He was almost there when his hoof caught an edge of one of his floor rugs, throwing him forward in a tangle of legs. He was back up a moment later, rubbing his bruised snout as he stumbled to the doorknob. Yanking it open with a curse, he frowned at the complete lack of a pony on the other side. But there was a folded piece of paper just lying on the floor.

Picking it up and unfolding it with a flick of magic, Quill recoiled from the words within. They were cut and pasted together from newspaper and were clearly a threat.

No matter what you do, you are nothing but a discarded piece of trash. Get out of town, you failure!

His body was trembling with rage now, his magic slowly crumpling the note into the tightest ball of paper possible. Somepony threatening him? Somepony else who had a problem with his family line? Buying into the lies and propaganda about the Crystal Empire like mindless little windup toys! But who sent this one? Who would call him a….failure….

“Skitch-Sketch.”

She knew how much his play meant to him! And in retrospect, she had been far too eager to kick him from the production! She hadn’t even tried to work with him! And she had admitted to meeting Cadance, the one behind the the disappearance of the Empire! With that realization it all became perfectly clear. She had been a plant for the beginning!

Pacing the width of the living room with a drunken sway, Quill’s anger seethed . “Do those royals have no sense of shame? Will they stop at nothing to destroy the truth? Cadance! Celestia!”

Still infused with his morning drinking, he collapsed onto one of his couches, limbs half sprawled over the edge. As he seethed away, mind locked on the betrayals he had suffered, a nimbus of black, purple and green danced around his horn, as turbulent as his mind. Gritting his teeth, Quill reached out for one of his notebooks. For now, he would sate his anger by turning his creative mind towards writing truly brutal piece about the errant human.

Somepony would pay. Somepony.

“Remember, you need to be on that spotlight to call out Marigold and Blue Bell in the stands after the first verse of the Springtime for Sombra number,” Skitch said.

“Can do!” Bright Light said, one of the twins that ran The Palace’s lighting systems before galloping off.

The stage was a chaotic flurry of energy with stagehands and actors running every which way. Looking about to see how everypony else was doing, Skitch quickly shuffled to the side to avoid the oncoming office wall, pushed by a stallion with a mission. Quartz’s sturdy glare kept everypony on the set crew running at top speed. On the other side of the stage, Rarity almost threw costumes to actors while they ran through warm up exercises to get into the right mindset and smooth our problematic lines.

Skitch stood in the middle of it all, burying her anxiety under a bunch of bluster and bravado. She knew full well that she was- to borrow a phrase- punching way above her weight class. Speaking of bravado….

“Quartz! Do we have that section of seats roped off yet for our fake crowd?”

Quartz nodded from her perch atop a stack of boxes, from where she directed the flow of stagehands like an army commander. “That it is. Went with the section right behind the music pit.”

Music.

“Flash! When’s the rest of the orchestra getting here? I want to get at least one dry run in before opening tonight.”

“They know when to show up. They’ll be here soon.”

Soon. That word hung in Skitch’s mind for a moment before landing like an anvil. “Soon? Flash, we open tonight! How are we supposed to do a dry run without the fuc-”

“Language, darling!” Rarity called.

Skitch grit her teeth, ears and tail twitching. Flash sighed, placing a hoof on her back. “Skitch, they’ll be here. I know these ponies. Some of them were my teachers. They’re professionals.”

“...Alright Flash. I’ll trust you,” she sighed, her eyes wandering over towards Rarity. “Rarity, any problems with the wardrobe?”

“None at all darling,” she answered with a casual toss of her wavy mane. “We are as ready as we can be on that front.”

“Right! As soon as our music gets here, we’ll do a full dry run. Take five for now.”

Trotting backstage, she wove through the various ponies and out the back doors. Picking one of the crates scattered near the doors at random, Skitch sank into a seat. Squeezing her eyes closed, she took a deep breath and held it as long as she could, before letting it go.

Celestia and Cadance were coming.

She was glad and terrified at the same time. Celestia’s declaration had lead to the premiere being sold out. Her gamble that ponies like Quill were vastly outnumbered by those with good taste. Of course, now the pressure was a hundred times worse, with the ruler of a whole country to impress. ….And if she was being honest with herself there was certain amount of Brony pride at the thought of being able to entertain the princesses. Though she wasn’t sure if she should be relieved or disappointed that Luna wouldn’t be arriving as well. A few more deep breaths to calm the nerves and she’d head back in, try her best and let whatever would happen, happen.

Before she could though, her ears swiveled instinctively towards the sound of approaching hooves and a scrabble of claws; a pony and something else judging by the rhythm of the mixed steps. Opening her eyes, Skitch looked towards the alley entrance.

“Twilight? Spike?”

Hopping off the crate she galloped over to her friends, exchanging a friendly nuzzle with Twilight.

“I wasn’t expecting you two to show up!”

“We had to after your telegrams,” Twilight said, the slightest hint of “I told you so.” in her tone.

“Yes, you were right, I shouldn’t have done this,” Skitch sighed. “I just really wanted to try and get a home back.”

“I know. You just focus on your play. Spike and I will be here for moral support.”

“”Yeah, assuming she doesn’t run off to help foil the robbery,” Spike snorted.

“Spike! I will not! The city guard will handle that.”

Spike rolled his eyes. “You were thinking about it though.”

The way Twilight fidgeted told Skitch everything she needed, so she stepped around the issue instead. “Come on in. I’ll show you where we are and what I got planned. You’ll love the musical bit I’m giving Pinkie at the start of this thing.”

A few hours later, the orchestra had indeed arrived and the dry run had gone about as well as it could have. Everyone seemed to know their lines. At this point, there was nothing for it but to go for the actual production.

It was late afternoon at this point, with four hours to go till the premiere. The actual staff and owners of the Palace Threater would be spending that time getting it ready to have ponies in it. That left cast and crew time to rest, freshen up and get dinner before the eyes of a nation would be on their efforts.

Skitch, Rarity, Pinkie, Twilight and Spike left together, through the front doors rather than the alley this time.

“Oh, I do wish that we had the time to have a nice sit down dinner together! I heard Marigold talking about this delightful little place that he frequents. They have caricatures of all the famous ponies that have eaten there on the walls!” Rarity said.

“Aww, save that appetite for the wrap party! They’re always super duper fun! All the food and sweets you can eat, talking, laughing, and jokes!” Pinkie grinned bouncing slightly ahead of the group.

Spike perked up at that. “Really? You think that they might have some gems?”

“Of course they would! Why wouldn’t they?” Pinkie said flashing her radiant smile.

Twilight gave her friend an odd stare. “Because there aren’t any dragons in the show? Just how many professional wrap up parties have you been to?”

“Oh, zero. But I know my parties! I’m sure that I’ll be able to talk Marigold out of retiring then!”

“Actually, Pinkie, there’s not going to be a wrap party on this one,” Skitch said, her ears flicking back nervously.

“WHAT?”

Skitch felt herself get bowled over and found herself looking up into wide, panicky blue eyes. A tired sigh escaped her lips, the weight of the day's work dragging her down like an anchor. She really didn’t want to dash Pinkie’s hopes but-

“How can there not be a wrap party?!” Pinkie practically whimpered. “There’s always a wrap party! It’s a wrap, now party! It’s in the name!”

“Pinkie, there’s no money,” Skitch slowly explained. “We basically just covered the costs with what Riche already invested as part of his trap. I had to basically beg to Princess Celestia because we have no cash for advertising.”

“Pinkie dear, could you let her up?”

Half pouting, half wincing Pinkie backed off Skitch, letting the unicorn hop back to her hooves. “Sorry Pinkie,” she shrugged. “I mean...let’s face it. Even with Flash and my’s re-writes, this isn’t exactly a legitimate production. There’s no budget for anything beyond this one showing. I’ll be happy if this whole thing breaks even.”

She rubbed her forehead sighing even deeper. “I don’t even know if this will work. We’re talking about a play adaptation of a forty five year old movie, that I’m hoping will sell across cultural lines, and that had a mixed reaction when it came out!”

“Skitch dear, I thought you said it was a classic?” Rarity asked.

“Yeah, it is now. But that’s because it’s had those forty five years. It influenced new generations of comics and Mel Brooks had a bunch of other hits since then. Me? I’m just...me.”

“I’m sure you can do it Skitch, you’ve come this far,” Twilight said, only to trail off and look past Skitch. Skitch followed her friend’s gaze, wondering what exactly was going to happen now.

For two of the ponies working their way through the Manehattan streets, the city’s usual glitz and glamor just didn’t appeal. They were ponies with a mission. A drive to find one specific pony in the city for reasons of their own.

The mare of the pair was stern, with the kind of sweeping glare like gaze that teachers used to quell unruly students the world over. Her brown mane and tail seemed like they were trimmed using a straight edged ruler for a guide and her cream colored coat looked as if it was brushed one hair at a time, it was so immaculate. Even her beige vest had an unnatural order to it. It made the shiny red apple on her flanks look almost comical with how...normal it was.

Her stallion companion was much more nervous. His wavy black mane was neatly brushed as was his white coat, but not to the level of sheer nit pickery that his companion had somehow managed to pull off. His cutie-mark was a collection of sheets of paper, neatly stacked.

She was angry and he was wary as they approached the Palace Theater, having come to the city for a reckoning.

“Dear,” Black Marble asked, pausing to rub the back of his head, “I’m still not sure what you’re expecting to do here.”

Apple Polish stalked forward, head lowered and back arched. Her tail thrashed about like a whip. “An explanation. I want an explanation from that thing wearing my daughter’s body.”

“And then what?”

Apple Polish didn’t answer, her eyes having locked upon a group of ponies that had just stepped out of the theater. The purple unicorn at the lead was quite familiar to her. But as she had been part of the team that had administered Twilight Sparkle’s entrance exam to Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns…. Well, Apple Polish doubted that she’d ever forget that unicorn, nor the baby dragon that was her constant companion. The pink earth pony and white unicorn were also familiar enough to anyone who paid attention to the newspapers.

But it was the last pony that made her heart want to break. Coat the color of spring leaves and mane the mirror of a clear blue sky, just like her grandmother’s. Her horn- slightly longer than the unicorn average- poked out above amber eyes that always sparkled with life and energy. That was her daughter but not.

Twilight had noticed her so now there was nothing for it but to do what she came here to do. Now holding her head higher, Apple Polish trotted straight for the group. Twilight perked up right away, the recognition clear on her face.

“Professor Polish!” Twilight smiled. “I haven’t seen you in ages! Do you-”

“Yes, Miss Sparkle, I remember you well. It’s not every pony that manages to plant their parents during their entrance exam.”

While she addressed Twilight, she kept one eye on her “daughter”. For a moment, those amber eyes that had always looked up at Apple Polish with love, sparkled with recognition. Despite what she knew, Apple Polish’s heart rose in her chest. But as quick as it was there, it was gone again, replaced with other things; fear and guilt. And as Skitch took a nervous step behind Pinkie Pie, Apple Polish it was like her daughter died all over again. Setting her jaw, she casually glanced towards Rarity as the Element Bearer addressed her.

“You taught Twilight? Wasn’t she Princess Celestia’s student?”

Despite her anger over the situation there was a slight sense of bemusement at the back of Apple Polish’s mind. The rumors surrounding those few ponies that Princess Celestia had taken as students over the centuries were a never ending topic. It was something of her duty to see that the truth was known.

“While that did indeed entitle her to a great deal of special tutoring, Twilight still attended many regular classes as well.”

The thing wearing his daughter’s body tried to make herself look smaller, nearly cowering behind the Element of Laughter now.

“Human. Stop cowering back there and face me.”

The human peeked around Pinkie Pie’s poofy mane, biting her lip. Then she began to talk, very fast.

“MissApplePolishIamsosorry-”

“Quiet!” Apple Polish hissed. “I am not here to listen to your insane ramblings!” Through her anger, she felt the hoof of her husband on her back but her rage was unabated. “I want an explanation from you about why you’re continuing to trounce around in my daughter's body!”

The human half cowered behind Pinkie again, now silently mouthing “I’m sorry.” over and over again. Before Apple Polish could unleash another round of insults upon the human Twilight Sparkle stepped between the two of them.

“Professor Polish, while I understand that you’re upset about what happened to your daughter, there’s no reason to take it out on Skitch.”

“Don’t call her that!” Apple Polish snapped, stomping a hoof so hard that she could feel it threaten to crack. “She doesn’t have the right to use my daughter’s name! Doesn’t she have a name of her own to use? Why is she even dancing around as a pony anyway? Is her own species not good enough for her?”

The venom just flowed, spilling forth in a torrent that she couldn’t even begin to stop, even if she wanted to. All that she felt was a blind fury at the thing that was daring to puppet around her daughter’s body. Her daughter’s grown up body! Her daughter who hadn’t even had a chance to grow up! Pinkie Pie frowned, taking a step back to wrap a foreleg around the human.

“This is the Skitchy I know. That’s who she is to me.”

“Well, I’m so happy for that bit of wisdom from the bubblehead brigade!” Apple Polish shouted. She was practically roaring now. The Element Bearers wanted to support the human? Then to Tartarus with them as well!

“Do not speak to Pinkie or Skitch like that!” Rarity snapped. “Especially considering that Skitch is trapped here through no fault of her own!”

“But she had to come back to Equestria! She had to move into a town a few hours away from us! She has to run around with you, landing in all the headlines,” she shouted, now whirling on Twilight. “You! You actually knew her back in the school! She should be your friend! Not some...alien!”

“You vindictive little harpy!” Rarity shouted back. “What does her origin have to do with anything? We are Equestrians! We embody the principles of friendship and harmony! That should be the case no matter what somepony is!”

“Save your sanctimonious ideals for when a member of your family has been replaced by somepony else!” Apple Polish shouted.

The human was gaping now, trying to stammer out some kind of excuse or explanation. Not that Apple Polish was interested in hearing whatever it was she had to say. But Twilight interrupted before more shouting could begin.

“Professor, what exactly are you trying to accomplish here? Skitch- our Skitch that is- literally can’t do anything about her situation. She can’t even change her appearance with magic. Whatever the Collector did to her damaged her internal magic field so badly that any transmutation magic might make her fall apart!” She nervously bit her lip. “Professor Polish, I know that you’re angry. But you can’t want her...dead.”

“Yeah,” Spike said. “That would be seriously messed up.”

Apple Polish’s stomach twisted, Twilight’s comment cutting through her rage. A thousand horrific images of her daughter’s body, twisted by all of the horrific possibilities of transmutation magic gone wrong, flashed through her head. She couldn’t...no..she couldn’t be responsible for her little girl’s death again. Not even if it wasn’t her, really.

Squeezing her eyes closed, Apple Polish sighed, trying to ignore the tears that were leaking down her cheeks. “Please. Just leave. Leave Equestria. You were gone for months. Why did you have to come back and remind me of everything? Couldn’t you just leave an old mare to her misery?”

“Because I can’t go home,” the human whispered. “I have no place else to go. No other people or ponies to lean on. I’m just...I’m just trying to find a place.”

“Find it someplace else. Please.

“They’re all I have,” the human answered, motioning to the Element Bearers with a hoof. “They’re all I have.”

The sadness in her voice- in her daughter’s voice- drilled right to Apple Polish’s core. More memories floated up, like unwelcome visitors. Memories of her Skitch-Sketch, running to her with a scraped fetlock or some other minor injury. And just like that, the fire was quenched. She couldn’t bring herself to yell at her daughter’s face anymore. Her husband’s hoof rested on her back again, his voice calling through the haze.

“Apple Polish...we should go. We can’t do anything more here.”

Numb to the world, Apple Polish let herself be lead away.

The alcohol had stopped working.

When, exactly, its ability to blunt his dark mood had started to falter was lost on Quill. All that he knew was that he would have started to destroy his surroundings if they didn’t cost so much. So, he had turned to music. A record of one of his favorite musicals spun away on its player, flooding the townhouse with horns, strings and all the other pieces of an orchestra. Not that it was helping either. Nor was the writing. Right now....right now….

Rolling over on the couch, he peered up at the clock. The play that should have been his would be starting soon. There had to be something he could do. Skitch had insulted his work and stolen his production. He had to….

...punish her.

The thought had just popped into his head, but it made such perfect sense. If she was so willing to be a tool of the royals, then she should be prepared to face the consequences! It wasn’t like the human had any real right to be here either.

“Yes.”

Horns swelled, the record neatly rolling over to the next movement. Quill pushed himself off the couch, the churn of black, purple and green around his horn growing all the more violent. With the music now feeding into his dark mood and his love of theater, Quill stalked towards his bedroom. Had Quill been more lucid as he walked down the hallway, he might have noticed his reflection in one of the mirrors. And he might have seen the way the whites of his eyes were replaced by a sickly green light.

Instead he burst into his bedroom, rushed to the closet and began to rummage through his costumes, collected from years of chasing his chosen profession. Discarded choices quickly stacked up in a haphazard pile as he searched with a growing manic glee. A dark cloak from a horror production was pulled loose and- with an embellished flourish- snapped neatly around his neck. It was joined a moment later by a fine tophat, to cut a dashing figure.

Spinning away from the closet, he rushed back into the hall and to the steps that lead to the rooftop garden. Bursting through the door, he didn’t slow down, instead galloping all the faster towards the next building on the block. The moon was beginning its journey into the sky, propelled by Luna’s magic to join the stars in illuminating the night.

Fueled by an energy that he couldn’t identity, Quill kicked off from his building as he reached the edge. His cape flapped in the night air, billowing out almost like the wings of a thestral. His hooves slammed down on the other side, a small burst of black crystals rising up, before they fell away again.

It was as if the blood of his ancestors was being stirred. Once he was done dealing with Skitch, he would show the world just how wrong they were about his family line. House Sombra would be respected! House Sombra wouldn’t have to hide in their lands for daring to take a stand!

So, he ran on and on, bounding from room top to roof top with a renewed vigor.

Rarity looked down at Skitch-Sketch with a frown. Her friend was slumped in a chair, head hung, ears slicked back. Truly an embodiment of misery if Rarity had ever seen one. She approached her moping friend, manebrush at the ready. As sad as her friend was, Skitch still had a production to put on tonight. And that would require her to look her best. Skitch reacted somewhat predictably to the brush.

“Rarity!” she hissed, pulling away. “Is that a hairbrush or a rake?”

“Stop squirming darling! Your mane is a mess! Have you not been brushing?”

Skitch blinked back a fresh round of tears as Rarity’s comb found a large tangle. “I’ve had other things on my mind. Besides, it didn’t look tangled to me.”

Rarity hummed her disapproval, looking up from the knot that was the current target of her ire. “Spike, would you be a dear and fetch my overnight bag? It should be in the bathroom.”

“Sure thing!”

The young dragon hopped off the bed where he had been sitting and wove past Pinkie to the bathroom. Pinkie was rummaging through her bag for a dress to wear for the night. Watching her efforts out of the corner of her eye, Rarity raised an eyebrow as Pinkie pulled two different dresses from her suitcase.

“What do you think?” she asked, holding up two different garments. “Cotton candy or gingerbread?”

Cotton candy was a powder blue affair, with puffy shoulders that were probably the direct inspiration for its nickname. It worked well with Pinkie’s mane, reflecting the round shapes in her mass of curls. Gingerbread…. Rarity wrinkled her snout at the nearly obsessively plain affair. A rich brown color both sleeves and skirt were long enough to fall just to the top of her pasterns. Also utterly devoid of frills or other ornamentation, it reflected a very, very conservative nature that was uncharacteristic of her friend.

“Cotton candy. Honestly Pinkie, I don’t know why you keep the other one. Brown is not your color. At all.”

“But my dad sent it to me after we got the Elements! I can’t just get rid of it.”

Rarity mentally sighed. Far be it for her to come between Pinkie and her family. “Very well. But I insist that you wear the blue one for tonight.”

Spike emerged from the bathroom with a pink colored hoofbag. “Here you go Rarity.”

“Thank you Spike.”

Humming to herself, Rarity rummaged through the contents before picking a perfume bottle from among a few others. The scent of freshly picked rose petals began to fill the room as she sprayed down Skitch’s mane.

“What is that?” Skitch asked, wrinkling her snout.

“Mane and tail detangler,” Rarity said, giving her brush a little twirl and jumping into it again. Now each stroke glided simply through Skitch’s mane. “Hmm. How do you want your mane...up or down?”

Ah, that pout. While Skitch did seem to be quite happy with her new gender she was hardly what Rarity would call...feminine. But not rough and tumble like Applejack or Rainbow Dash either. More of what Rainbow would call an “egghead”.

“Do we have to do it at all?” she asked. “I’m going to be backstage the whole time anyway.”

“You are putting on a play for two of the princesses in an official setting!” Rarity huffed, beginning to braid Skitch’s mane, deciding to go the “down” route. “The press will be there, and you’ll have to give a bow at the end. I can not abide the thought of you going out there not looking your best!”

Skitch looked towards Twilight, who was comparing her own dresses, almost asking for help. But she looked quite distracted herself.

“I’m sorry I made things awkward with your professor Twilight,” Skitch said, fidgeting again.

“It’s...not your fault Skitch.” Twilight said, with a half sigh. “If it’s anypony’s fault, it’s The Collector.”

“No doubt. But I’m still causing her pain just by being here.”

Spike rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “Aw, come on Skitch. Are you really going to go back to beating yourself up every time something happens that you can’t control?”

“Maybe? It’s hard to look at my place in this world sometimes and not wonder...what am I doing here? What am I doing with my life?” she muttered, sinking a bit deeper into her chair. “All of this insanity? It’s just to get a place to live again! If I had any common sense, I’d just find a new apartment or something. Like a normal person or pony.”

With her mane styling done, Rarity turned her attention to her makeup case. “There is nothing wrong with fighting for a home, friends or family darling.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m just so tired of this! I feel like I keep hurting ponies just by being around and I have nobles trying to ruin my life and...and…”

“Skitch! You’re not responsible for Professor Polish’s feelings about you!” Twilight said, with a firm stomp of her hoof.. “Especially since we can’t safely change your appearance.”

“Twilight’s quite right. Now, close your eyes please dear.”

“What?”

“Eyes. Close them please.”

Skitch fidgeted again but closed her eyes. Her coat was green, so Rarity chose a pale yellow blush and began to lightly dust her friend’s cheek bones. Then came the eyeshadow and lipstick, both blue to complement her natural mane color. She would make sure that her friend would be a beautiful mare for her directorial debut. Perhaps even have her catch the eye of a stallion or two. More social contacts would do her good.

“Pucker please,” Rarity said. It would help apply even coverage, after all.

Skitch did so. “Lipstick?”

“Of course.”

“...I’m a pony with lipstick. That’s...weird right? Why is that weird?”

“It is most certainly not ‘weird’! It is chic!”

As soon as she had made the decision to come to Manehatten, Rarity had also decided to bring a few extra dresses, just in case. Skitch only owned the one she had made for the Grand Galloping Gala and she really wanted it to be saved for that. Picking a daisy yellow affair from her suitcase, she pulled it down over Skitch’s head before she realized what was happening. The ruffled yellow draped loosely across croup and rump, it’s light blue trim matching both mane and lipstick. As Skitch opened her eyes, Rarity held up a hoof mirror.

“There we go! Thankfully, we’re about the same size.”

Skitch stared at herself, wide eyed, for a good minute before managing to find her voice again. “Jeese, Rarity,” she said after her mind ground back into action. “Am I supposed to be meeting a princess or going on a date?”

“Meeting a princess. But if you happen to catch the eye of a dashing stallion, it can’t hurt.”

“....I won’t get into how weird that would be for me.”

Rarity slid on her own sparkling blue dress, while Twilight picked a simple pale pink one and Spike pulled on a baby dragon sized tuxedo. Rarity plucked a flower from the vase in the room and tucked into Spike’s jacket.

“Alright everypony,” Twilight smiled, “It’s time for a play!”

“Yeah,” Skitch nodded. “Let’s finish this.”

Author's Note

Finally getting towards the home stretch in this fic folks!

Something I'm quite glad for too, since this one has been fighting me as of late. The confrontation between Apple Polish and Skitch was particularly difficult to write, but something that had to be addressed. That poor family. The Collector really did a number on them.

Next chapter, we'll see some of The Producers....Equestria style!

Springtime for Sombra

A rainbow colored river flowed into The Palace Theater tonight. Those well to do enough to secure tickets dressed in their best and Manehatten’s press clustered about the street, snapping photos at any pony that looked important. Riche glared at a few of them as his carriage came to a stop. Vultures, the lot of them. Formerly useful vultures that had seen fit to completely undermine his plans. At the moment though, they were more of an annoyance than anything else. Blueblood was already standing on the street, talking animatedly with Fleur, who was wearing her latest “favorite old thing”.

Hopping out of his carriage, Riche made to stride right past the pair uninterested in speaking with either. But Fleur never missed a chance to show off, especially when they tried to run away. Beaming a cheaply fake smile, she swooped down upon him, dragging Blueblood along for the ride. Blueblood smiled politely, giving a slight nod of his head that might pass for a bow.

“Good evening. Decided to swallow your pride and see what exactly we’re dealing with here?”

“I, for one, am quite interested in seeing what the human has to show off,” Fleur said, lightly fluffing her mane. “This could be very interesting!”

“I only care if it's Interesting enough to make my money back,” Riche grumbled, tugging at the sleeve of his jacket, “Otherwise I could care less what this pretend pony has cooked up.”

“Oh Riche, how inharmonious of you!” Fleur clucked. “All are welcome in Equestria. Or...did you not know that?”

“Save the rhetoric for your judge of a coltfriend,” Riche growled, beginning to push past them.

A sudden swarm of clicking drew Riche’s attention. Sighing he turned to make certain that his plan had completely fallen apart. Sure enough an elegant white and golden carriage turned onto the street, pulled by a pair of armored royal guards. Riche resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Equestria’s infatuation with the royals was...a thing, he supposed. The carriage rattled to a stop. Then, before any of The Palace’s ushers could open the door for the VIP a glittering gold aura threw it open and Princess Celestia stepped out.

Equestria’s leader had chosen a dress that drew from her connection to the sun. A rich yellow color at the top and back, it flowed into a rich orange color at the skirt, almost like a sunset. Even her golden regalia seemed to be glittering a little more than usual. Her expression was serene, as always, giving a few appreciative smiles as she strode down the red carpet.

Princess Cadance was right behind her, in an elegant purple affair, two different layers of pink ribbon wrapped around the skirt. It reminded Riche of a wedding cake, all lace and fluff. The younger princess waved eagerly to the crowd as she passed.

As Celestia swooped into the building, Riche could almost swear that her eyes narrowed at him. But then it was gone and the and the magnanimous smile was back as she vanished from sight.

“Well,” Blueblood smiled, “I suppose there’s nothing to do but join the princess inside.”

“...I suppose so,” Riche sighed.

“Alright everypony, we’re going live in five! This is not a drill!” Skitch shouted from her position on stage right, clipboard bobbing before her snout. “Get on your marks!”

The last bit of scenery was being pulled into place by Quartz and her crew, while the backstage area churned with all the activity of a kicked over ant hill. Pre-show jitters, Skitch supposed. Her eyes roamed over the checklist provided by...Twilight. She had walked into the backstage area, looked around and with a twitch of her eye immediately set to making the thing. No matter the situation, Twilight was gonna Twilight.

“Has anyone seen Pinkie?” she asked.

“Right here!”

Pinkie popped into Skitch’s peripheral vision, appearing almost like she stepped out of a hole in reality. Skitch looked up from the clipboard with a smile.

“Ready to knock em dead?”

“Totally! I’m gonna bowl them over!”

Skitch chuckled, trotting over to the curtain and pulling it back, ever so slightly, to peek out at the seats beyond. The palace was arranged like most theaters. A wide lower seating section was arranged into three major rows before the music pit, with balcony seating above that, private boxes set into the walls along the side.

Celestia and Cadance had a royal box closest to the stage on the left side. Same side and angle from the stage that Statler and Waldorf heckled the Muppets from. They had also been joined by Twilight and Spike. Twilight seemed overjoyed to have some time to talk with her mentor. Riche was sitting the next box back, with an expression like he had just bitten into a particularly sour apple.

“Yeah, screw you too buddy,” Skitch muttered under her breath.

“Ooo! Is that Quill?” Pinkie asked, suddenly at Skitch’s side again.

At the mention of the unicorn’s name, Skitch began to frantically scan the crowd for any sign of grey. “Quill? Where?”

“Ooops, sorry Skitchy. Not Nocky Quill, Silver Quill! See?” She pointed to a seat in one of the lower rows. There a hippogriff sat, white feathered around the neck and head, but brown around the wings and front half of his body. His pony half was a lighter brown, on which a silver quill cutie-mark stood out. He also had a pen and notepad in his talons. “He’s one of Manehatten’s most well known theater critics!” Pinkie explained with a grin.

“Damn Pinkie, you almost made me jump out of my coat,” Skitch muttered, ducking back behind the curtains. Taking a deep breath, she slowly let it go to drain the tension away. This was it. Whatever happened now would happen. Opening her eyes, she gave a stern nod. “Okay. Lights! We’re going for it!”

Flash tugged at the collar of his tuxedo. It remained a little tight in the neck and across his barrel, having come from his college days, before he had put on a few pounds. He really should have had Rarity adjust it, but it had completely slipped his mind. The orchestra was working through it’s final warm ups before the plunge. Pinkie stepping out onto the stage was the signal.

Part of him really had no idea why he had gone along with Skitch’s plan, while the other part of him pointed out that she had a plan. And some kind of plan was a better option than none at all. It was just...under the gaze of Celestia and Cadance it suddenly felt a little...lacking. Rolling his eyes towards the ceiling for a moment, he offered a silent prayer to whatever pony gods might be listening.

Please don’t let my first big job end in a disaster.

The house lights began to dim, every other bank in the long ceiling rows snapping off, casting the audience in just enough darkness to highlight the stage. Pinkie Pie trotted on from stage left, wide smile stretched across her muzzle and a bounce in her step. Time for him to do his job.

Raising one hoof into the air to bring the orchestra’s attention to him, he tapped his other forehoof against the metal of his music stand to set the beat. Every eye snapped towards him and instruments were raised, a silence settling over the both audience and orchestra.

“Good evening everypony!” Pinkie shouted, with the manic energy that Flash had come to associate with her. “The theater is a super fun place, full of laughter but sometimes tears too. Comedies and tragedies both are performed under this roof. And tonight, we are happy as a clam to present to you….”

She paused for a moment, doing her best to build tension before breaking into a cheerful giggle. “A comedy! We shall use every trick we know to entertain you!”

Flash let his raised hoof drop, immediately transitioning into the flowing gestures of conducting. With the rise of the music, Pinkie broke into song.

Something familiar,
Something peculiar
Something for everyone:
A comedy tonight!

Something appealing,
Something appalling,
Something for everyone:
A comedy tonight!

She even sounded happy when singing! The song in question was, apparently, from another play called A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum. While Flash hated the idea of mixing scores from two different productions, Skitch had insisted on this one. To make the nature of the production clear, had been her logic.

Nothing with queens, nothing with crowns;
Bring on the lovers, liars and clowns!

Pinke punctuated that line by producing a few brightly colored balls from her mane and juggling them, before tossing them back into the air and catching them with her tail.

Old situations,
New complications
Nothing portentous or polite!
Tragedy tomorrow,
Comedy tonight!

Flash dropped his hoof and the music abruptly cut off. In the next moment a great “tragic” wailing went up from behind the curtain, the sound of hooves crashing back and forth across the stage. Pinkie “froze” for a moment, but quickly took on an annoyed expression. With an exaggerated twirl, she stuck her head through the curtain.

“Hey! I said, tragedy tomorrow, comedy tonight!”

A great “Oh!” of comprehension was the response, and as a light round of chuckles rolled through the audience, Flash took the beat up again. Pinkie was back in her upbeat grin before she finished turning around and dove right back into the song.

Something expensive,
Something offensive,
Something for everyone:
A comedy tonight!

Passions and potions,
Constant commotions!
Something for everyone:
A comedy tonight!

Nothing with queens,
Nothing with crowns
Bring on the lovers, liars and clowns!

Old situations
New complications
Nothing portentous or pooooliiiite!
Tragedy tomorrow,
Comedy tonight!

Now Pinkie was joined by a pair of stallions, both wearing golden masks of the grinning comedy face. They took up the next two lines, flanking Pinkie.

Something convulsive,
Something repulsive

And then Pinkie jumped forward, flashing a smile directly towards Celestia and Cadance.

Something for everyone:
A comedy tonight!

Something aesthetic

She twirled to the right, jumping into the hooves of one of the masked stallions.

Something balletic
Something for everyone:
A comedy tonight!

Nothing with gods, nothing with fate;

Now the masked stallions joined in again, all three singers coming together.

Weighty affairs will just have to wait!

Nothing that’s formal
Nothing that’s normal!
No recitations to recite;
Open up the curtain!

Flash motioned for the horns to move into a crescendo. The stallions both backed off stage as the curtain raised while Pinkie bobbed in place, the office that would be the genesis of the play’s theater based scheme slowly being revealed.

Comedy….TONIGHT!

Finishing her song, Pinkie giggled again, waving towards the set. “Our story begins here, in the office of Maximum Bounty, an unlucky producer who’s forced to seduce old mares to fund his productions.”

Another motion from Flash dropped the music down to more ambient levels, Pinkie skipping off stage left. The first step seemed to have gone well. Now it was back in the hooves of the actors.

- - - -

“Great work Pinkie!”

“Thanks Skitchy!” she grinned, taking a seat

“Okay,” Skitch smirked, looking over the her and Twilight’s combined checklists, “So we got Marigold and Blue Bell on the first scene. Quartz, make sure your crew is ready to go to the tower scene.”

The diamond dog gave a thumbs up, near a collection of painted trees, ready to be rolled onto the stage. “About three steps ahead of you.”

“Now, where did Spring Fields get off too?”

“Over here.”

Spring came wandering up from the wardrobe room, now dressed in a robe of mismatched gold and deep green. Skitch grinned as she made her way over to them, “Ahh, there’s my Rose de Blue.”

“With my non-rose cutie-mark,” she half sighed, half pouted.

“Don’t worry, that’ll just be part of the joke. Doubly so when you play Sombra.”

That made her bite her lip. “Are you sure about this? You want me to be known as the mare the played King Sombra.”

Skitch...had honestly been expecting this. Expecting anypony to be eager and ready to play one of Equis’ more infamous rulers would be hopelessly naive on her part. Thankfully, she did have an angle.

“Look, Spring? Back on earth, the writer of this play did it with the intention of making a very bad group of men and their philosophy look absolutely foolish. He wanted those men to never be taken seriously again. I am not asking you to glorify Sombra. What I want, is for you to go out there during that scene, and bury him. Something that I think you have more than enough acting skill to do.”

It was true. For all of Spring Field's ego, she was good at her job. Then again, weren’t all actors somewhat known for their egos? It seemed to work too, as Spring seemed to perk up a bit.

“Well, I suppose I can handle that.”

“I know you can.”

A shadow slid across the roof of The Palace, practically skittering between the glowing lights of its sign. Quill, jaw still set in a silent snarl, crept right for the roof hatch set right behind the metal edifice. It was there for maintenance, allowing workers to climb up and replace burnt out bulbs. Now, he used it to sneak into the building, creeping down the flight of stairs with the darkness trailing behind.

It let out into the mess of scaffolding that stretched above the stage. The ponies working the lights stood on the tier just below Quill, oblivious to his presence. Grumbling under his breath, he crouched down to peer at what was going on down there.

From his angle, he could see that the set was something of a city rooftop arrangement, complete with what looked like a pigeon coop in one corner. Marigold Button and two of the minor actors were crowded around it. One of them- a unicorn stallion- was wearing an onyx helmet. Squarish and angular it was shaped in the style of Sombra’s personal guard. The stallion was also practically cowering from the other two.

“Relax, relax sir,” Marigold said with a raised hoof. “We’re not with the government. We’re here to talk about your play.”

“M-my play? You mean Springtime for...you know who?”

“Yes.”

“What about it?”

The stallion had snapped out that response so fast and intensely as to give Quill whiplash. Unless he was very much mistaken, that character was meant to him out of his gourd.

“We love it! We think it’s a masterpiece and wish to produce it.”

Again a wild moodswing the pony- that quill was now damn sure was a dig with him- practically jumping with unrestrained glee.

“Oh! Oh joy of joys! Oh dream of dreams! I can’t believe it! I...I must tell the birds!” Quill’s anger simmered as the mockery grabbed the cage and and began to shake it, stuffed pigeons bouncing around on strings. “Birds! Birds! Birds! Do you hear? We’re going to clear Sombra’s name!”

That tore it! He was going to make Skitch-Sketch suffer for this...insult! There were far too many ponies around right now to do something. But once the crowds cleared out, he could follow her. Then he’d make that...human...pay.

“So...how are you liking it so far?”

Twilight shifted in her seat, nervously glancing up at her mentor and Princess Cadance. Celestia’s expression was- as always- serene, though this time there was an undercurrent of contemplation there.

Cadance was...amused. Half leaning forward in her seat, she allowed one hoof to dangle over the edge of the box, a slight smirk playing across her muzzle.

“You know, Sombra would have disappeared Skitch for doing something like this back when he was in charge of the Empire.”

Twilight winced. The reign of Sombra had been one of the many subjects Twilight had studied in her history courses. “I remember some of my lessons on that. No political dissent was allowed. I really wonder how some ponies can think he was innocent.”

“The self imposed exile of House Sombra is probably a factor,” Celestia said, with a sad sigh.

“So, they have the worst play ever written and director Rose has decided to play Sombra herself.” Spike interrupted. “We’re going to see a play within a play now?”

“One part at least. A musical number. It’s also called Springtime for Sombra.”

Celestia raised an eyebrow. “What kind of humor did Skitch say this production was based on again?”

“I believe her exact words were ‘crosses the line twice’,” Twilight said.

Before Celestia could ask for further clarification, spotlights were focused over the two entrances to the lower seats. The doors swung open as a line of ponies, dressed in their best, trotted down the isles. The way they moved, with a distinct one-two rhythm to their stride in time with the music, marked them as being part of the show. Heading straight for the section of seats that were roped off, they pulled the yellow bunting aside and sat down. One of the spotlights swung around focusing near the doors, where “Maximum Bounty” and “Lucky Bit” lurked.

The curtain, closed with the last scene, began to rise with a fresh blare of horn dominated music from the orchestral pit. It was an upbeat tune, that matched the grins on the line of “crystal ponies” that were revealed.

Twilight had to admit that the traditional costumes were spot on. Long cotton dresses on the mares, loose jerkins and tight tights on the stallions, all marked with geometric patterns meant to invoke the appearance of gems. Even their coats had been given a light dusting of some kind of powder to help give the gem like apperance.

Then came the singing.

The Empire was having trouble. What a sad, sad story.
Needed a new leader to restore its former glory

Where of where was he?
Where could that pony be?

We looked around and then we found.
The pony for you and me!

Throughout all of that, they had been mimicking looking around with greatly exaggerated pantomime. A few of the singers looked like they had been ready to fall over with the overdone motions.

Then they twirled off stage as the second, inner curtain raised. A unicorn stallion waited on the other side, standing in front of a crystal arch. His outfit, while also period appropriate, was much more sinister, being the black sash over the diamond marked brown jerkin that was the symbol of Sombra’s secret police. He too had been given a bejeweled coat.

Oh, Celestia! Skitch didn’t show me any of this! Twilight thought, cold sweat breaking across her forehead in dread. She isn’t going to have him sing, is she?

Aaaaaand noooow iiiiiiiiiitttsssssss
Springtime for Sombra and the Empire!

He was singing.

Our land, is happy and gay!
We’re marching to a faster pace,
Look out here comes the Master Race!

Springtime for Sombra and the Empire
My lands are fine lands once more
Springtime for Sombra and the Empire!
Watch out world, we’re going on tour

Springtime for Sombra and the Empire
Winter for Coltland and Prance.
Springtime for Sombra and the Empire.
Come on ponies, go into, your dance!

To Twilight's growing horror four more unicorns came trotting through the crystal arch and began to do just that. The choreography even looked like it had been borrowed from actual unicorn battle tactics, for as they pranced and twirled across the stage, they’d snap their heads down and fire off harmless little sparkles of light, and snap them back up in unison. Explosions followed from just off stage, and Twilight could just picture Skitch standing in the wings, adding those sound effects.

Another stallion, this one with the hood of his uniform up, stepped on from stage right and addressed the audience directly.

Don’t be stupid, be a smarty, come and join the winning party!

The fake audience groaned, just as it should, but there were a few disgusted reactions from the actual audience as well. A few ponies got up from the fake audience and stormed past Bounty and Bit, who sniggered.

“Come on,” Maximum Bounty said. “Let’s get out of here before they kill us.”

Twilight could have sworn that Celestia was looking at her but she didn’t dare look back to check. Instead she looked the other way, at Spike, who seemed to be fighting back giggles.

“Sombra is coming!” came the shout from the stage, forcing Twilight to wrench her eyes back.
“Hail Sombra!” the original unicorn shouted.

“Hail Sombra!” the dancers responded.

The fake crowd was really starting to leave now, even as the form of Sombra stepped...through...the arch….

She had completely forgotten that Skitch had a mare playing Sombra. The armor and cloak were all perfect. But coat had only been given a light dusting of grey, which made her look more desaturated than anything else. And the black wig and fake horn just looked...goofy. Not that it stopped her from waltzing right onto the stage, with a very Rarity-esq flip of her mane and bat of her eyes. It was so, completely absurd. Yet time seemed to hang still, until.

Cadance exploded with laughter. Twilight almost jumped out of her seat and looked at her. She was almost doubled over the lip of the box, with one hoof pointing at the “Sombra” on stage. Everytime she tried to collect herself, she’d glance up at the faux Sombra and break into a fresh round of giggles.

Her outburst uncorked a built up energy in the audience as more ponies began to laugh as well. Which was only added too as “Sombra” began to sing.

Hail...myself.
Hail to me.
I’m the pony who’s out to change our history
Hail myself, raise your hoof, there’s no greater dictator under the roof

Everything I do, I do for you
If you’re looking for a war, here’s a war for you!

The music grew quieter as she trotted to the edge of the stage and sat down, the rest of her surroundings suddenly cast in shadow as spotlight focused on her. “Sombra” gave another bat of her eyes before throwing herself back in a swoon and continuing her song.

I was just paper pusher, no one more obscurer
Got a message from the nobles, now I am the ruler
The Empire was blue, what, oh what to do?

Slowly, she rose, climbing back to her hooves in a slow, deliberate and overly exaggerated motion.

Hitched up my pants and conquered Prance
Now the Empire’s smiling through!

Doing a little twirl across the stage, the music began to build again, moving faster and more upbeat.

Oh, it ain’t no mystery, if it's politics or history
The thing you gotta know is, everything is show biz!

Hail myself!
Watch me go!
We’re gonna take it all, don’t you know?

We’re crossing borders, the new world order is here!
Make a great big smile, everyone and hail, to me!
Wonderful me!

And now iittt’s….springtime

The lights came back on, and Twilight did a double take. Now a whole squad of armored ponies were on the stage, marching forward side by side with almost mechanical precision. And all singing while they went, of course.

Springtime for Sombra and the Empire!
Marching forward, once more!
Spells falling from the skies again!

They all ducked their heads as a brilliant flash erupted from off stage.

Crystals are on the rise again!

Springtime for Sombra and the Empire.
Armies are marching once more!
Springtime for Sombra and The Empire!

“Sombra” took the center stage again engaging in a shared verse with her army.

You know we’ll be going, we got to be going, you know we’ll be going to….war!

As the fake audience stomped their hooves in applause and laughed, it was joined by a growing amount of laughter from the actual audience. It was...mixed. If Twilight had to hazard a guess, a little over half of the ponies found the display amusing. The curtain went down and the fake audience began to file out, Twilight blinking at what she had just finished seeing.

“I suppose the line has been skipped over, more than crossed,” Celestia said.

“Princess, I am so, so sorry,” Twilight began.

“Pfft. Twi, what are you apologizing for? That was hilarious! Dictator turned dancer!” Spike said, sweeping a hand through the air.

Cadance giggled again. “Sombra would hit the roof if he saw this! I love it! A literary sock in the eye!”

“Would you still be saying that if you didn’t want to ‘sock him in the eye’?” Celestia asked, one delicate eyebrow still arched skyward.

“Duty. It’s my duty to sock him in the eye, if and when he comes back. There’s a difference. I’ll take this for now though!”

Twilight shook her head. This was a strange night.

If Quill didn’t want to kill Skitch before, Riche was damn sure that he’d want to after that display. Sombra as a total buffoon. That was a new one. Princess Cadance’s raucous laughter wasn’t much of a surprise in retrospect, considering her past. It was Princess Celestia’s infuriatingly calm aura that drove Riche right up the wall.

For as crude as the production was turning out he would have expected her to be reacting more. Flinching at the rude jokes, shaking her head at the implication that her Equestria was less than perfect, doing...something, other than sitting there like a statue.

Skitch-Sketch’s choice of production was an odd one in his mind. Definitely more dark in its humor than Equestria was used to, it was almost like she was throwing herself on her sword. There couldn’t really be a way that this would be a hit.

Yet, doubt gnawed away at his stomach. She had obviously seen something in this play. What was it? What was her angle? He glanced furtively towards the box on his other side, where Blueblood and Fleur sat. Ever since the former walked out of his office, his mind had began to wonder what game the duke was playing.

Well, there were always ponies and changelings in need of coin interested in spy work. If ponies wanted to try and undermine him, he could play just as hard. Already forming plans in his mind, he joined the audience in its smattering of hoof stomps. Best to not make things look anymore obvious after all.

The mixed applause was good enough for Skitch.

“Alright! Bar scene! Go, go! Extras, you too!”

Her knees were weak, but there wasn’t time to worry about that. Just push on ahead. Scene changes and orders were given in a blur, Skitch acting more on instinct than anything else. The main thing in her mind was that she hadn’t exploded in flames yet and now it was the time to make the final gallop for the finish line.

Calculations of disaster played out on stage, Bounty and Bit gnashing their teeth at the destruction of their dreams. Then came Furious Libel again, taking the place of the deranged ex-Nazi from the original work.

The character’s attempt to kill the producers had been one of the things that she and Flash had clashed over in the rewrite. Skitch had wanted to keep it, Flash had wanted to lose it, based on the fact that it might have been a little too cynical.

“I’ll kick your sorry rumps from here to Canterlot!”

That had been the compromise. Attempted assault, rather than attempted murder.

“Can’t win them all I suppose,” Skitch said to herself.

Then came the attempt to blow up the theater scene and she immediately began to charge her horn, holding an illusion spell. Doing what she had supposedly been lured here to do in the first place, ironically enough.

“The short fuse?!” came the cry from the stage. Time for the dynamite to go off!

As three acting ponies dove off the stage and towards her, Skitch let the spell loose. A thundercrack was followed by a brilliant flash of light, the curtain slamming down right behind it.

“Right, finale time! Get the court on stage! Rarity, can you get Copper Coin bandaged up?”

“Of course darling.”

“Blue Bell. This scene is all yours. Nail that speech!”

“Okay!”

They were back out on the stage with the extras, working through the last two scenes. Skitch squeezed her eyes shut, now waiting for the final reaction. The courtroom, then the prison, where the two producers were right back to where they were before. Working the con.

The audience was quiet for what seemed like a horribly long moment. But then the applause began as Marigold, Blue Bell and Copper Coin took a bow. Much like the laughter, it wasn’t overwhelming. A mix of approval with those ponies who probably were still confused or horrified about the whole thing. The extras joined in the bow now, followed by the crew.

Skitch slowly walked out onto the stage now, well aware of the hundreds of eyes staring down at her. That, with the mix of expressions were intimidating, but the applause lifted her spirits, at least a little bit. So, she bowed deeply, the tip of her snout almost brushing the wood of the stage. The applause faded away as she straightened back up. As the crowd continued to stare at her, Skitch realized that they were almost expecting a speech of some kind.

“I would like to thank you all for coming tonight and seeing this interpretation of a classic bit of media from my home planet. I know that the sense of humor was a little...raw...but I hope that it was able to entertain all of you, all the same.”

She rolled her eyes towards the boxes, bowing her head towards Celestia and Cadance. “I’d also like to thank the Princesses for joining us tonight and Nouveau Riche for giving me this opportunity in the first place.”

The mortified look he had at that made Skitch smile. “Again, thank you all. And how about another round of applause for the very talented ponies who made this actually happen!”

This round of applause was stronger than the last and as the curtain came down, Skitch could at least take comfort in the fact that the careers of all the actors counting on her would be okay.

“Alright everyone. Let’s start to get this stuff put away. We did it.”

Scenery began to be rolled to storage, while Rarity collected the costumes. Skitch moved through the ponies, adding her magic to the efforts where it was needed.

“You got a lot of nerve, calling me out like that.”

And there he is, Skitch thought, turning to face Riche. He was backed up by Blueblood, his brow twisted into a furious glower as he strode across the stage. She shrugged. “You started all of this Riche. However, I’m willing to have a discussion about my house with you.”

“It was never yours in the first place.”

Skitch shrugged again. “Maybe so. But I’m either going to take the money I’ve earned doing this job to make a down payment on a new mortgage. Orrrr....”

“Or? Or what? What are you going on about?”

“I can sell you the rights to this production. For my house.”

“You can’t be serious,” Riche snorted, his eyes narrowing. “Are they even your rights to sell?”

“I have as much authority as can exist in this situation, since it’s literally impossible for me to contact Mel Brooks,” Skitch said, waving the question away. “But, considering I did an adaptation and changed things around, this would be considered a transformative work under my country’s copyright law. I am as legally clear as I can be.”

“In that case, I accept your generous offer,” Blueblood said.

Pulling a slim and long black book and pen out of an inner pocket of his jacket, Blueblood began to write. “Let’s see...the cost of your house is sixty thousand? I will pay you ninety for the exclusive rights for your play.”

“Blueblood...what are you doing?” Riche growled.

“Making a profit, rather than chasing vendettas. The novelty factor alone will keep this play churning money for quite a bit.”

“Tell ya what. Drop it to seventy five for me, throw in a nice bonus for everyone else-”

“Sounds reasonable.”

“And cover the tab for a killer cast party tonight.”

“...Really? You do know those are traditional at the end of a production’s run.” Blueblood said, with a quite deadpan stare. “I just bought the rights. I intend to keep it going.”

Skitch waved a hoof imperiously. “But I’m not going to be involved. And I want these ponies to have a good time tonight.”

“Very well,” Blueblood nodded, tearing the check free from his book. “I shall arrange a payment through their agents.”

Pulling another book out of his jacket, Blueblood scribbled something else down and channeled a spell. A quick whip of magic stamped against the page and it was passed over with the check. “Present that one at the bar of your choosing. The bill will be covered by my estate.”

“This is completely ludicrous!” Riche snapped.

Skitch was beaming as she snatched the both out of the air. “Congratulations Duke Blueblood! You now own 100% of The Producers! Mazel tov!”

The temptation to giggle like a loon was quite strong. This was more money than she had ever gotten at once in her life before. But as her eyes reached the end of the seventy five thousand bits line, the sparkling blue of Rarity’s magic engulfed the check and yanked it away.

“I’ll hang onto this my dear. You don’t have a hoofbag and we don’t want to lose this until you can get to the bank.”

Rich’s eyes darted back and forth between Blueblood and Skitch before he sighed and shrugged. “Fine. So long as I get my money, you can have the stupid house back.”

“Is that some sour grapes I hear Mister Riche?”

Celestia, Cadance, Twilight and Spike now walked into the backstage area. Rich quickly dipped into a bow, as did everyone else.

“Not at all your highness,” he said.

“I am quite glad to hear that. It would be quite a disappointment to hear that one of my subjects was being so irrational,” she smiled.

“If you’ll excuse me Princess, I do have other business to attend to tonight.”

He quickly left, Celestia’s gaze following him for a moment, then she looked back at Skitch with a smile. “That was...an interesting production. Very...irreverent, I suppose.”

“That’s Mel Brooks for you Princess.”

“Indeed. It was...an experience. Are you considering another production?”

Skitch shook her head. “Not anytime soon, Princess. At the very least, if I enter the theater world again, it’ll be on my terms.”

“Quite understandable,” Celestia nodded. “Well, enjoy your victory. I am happy to see you building a home for yourself in Equestria.”

As she and Cadance turned and walked off, the princess of love winked at Skitch. “I still think it was really funny.”

Giggling, Skitch brandished Blueblood’s blank check for the night above her head. “Alright! As they say on my planet, let’s get wrecked!”

Music blared from phonographs to the sound of hooves hammering across a dance floor, happy laughter and the clink of glasses. The music was raw, bold and brassy jazz, the tune rumbling along with the dancers. Joy was practically overflowing the room, fueled by relief from a long and hectic week of work. They had won, after a fashion and now was the time to celebrate.

Flash raised a glass to his friend, the amber booze within threatening to spill over the edge. “Killer work with those sets Quartz. As expected.”

“I could say the same for you and the music,” she nodded back, gently clinking her glass against Flash’s.

The two had picked a table near the back of the chosen bar and sipped their drinks while they watched everyone else party around them.

“Ehh. Not all of it. That Springtime number was mostly from the original production. Would have liked to have added some more musical bits.”

Quartz shrugged and took a big gulp of her drink. “You could have pushed it more with Skitch. I think she would have been….receptive.”

“...There was a pause there. Why was there a pause there?”

Another drink. “You two got along quite well with each other, is all I’m saying.”

Flash grunted, ignoring what he was sure was a hidden insinuation about his love life. Instead, he turned his thoughts towards what he might do to make The Producers even more of musical. There was plenty of opportunity, assuming that Duke Blueblood kept the current cast and crew arrangements.

“Yo! Flash!”

Skitch pushed her way through the crowd, beaming wide, a full glass bobbing back and forth just before her horn.

“Please tell me you’re not drunk again. I really don’t want to have to clean up your sick again,” Flash said.

“I am not drunk,” she countered, taking a restrained sip of her drink. “Just...pleasantly buzzed, I’d say.”

“What brings you over to our table then? Shouldn’t you be with your friends?”

“Ehh, Spike and Rarity ducked out early. Twilight’s...around here somewhere,” she muttered, peering around the crowd of ponies before shrugging. “Right now I’m going around and thanking everypony for putting up with my morose self for the week.”

“Hey, you stuck by our sides. You could argue that we owe you.”

“You could. But I’d fight you on that. Anyway, I figure that I owe you something else,” Skitch shrugged, draining the rest of her alcohol in one smooth chug.

“What’s that?”

“A dance where I don’t break down crying on the middle of the floor.”

“Seriously?”

Skitch chuckled, her eyes almost sparkling with merriment. “Flash. You tried to cheer me up and I blacked out on you. So, dance floor or not?”

Flash stared at Skitch. Relaxed and happy looking, her long braid loosely resting against her neck, and her coat with a healthy glow to it, she was...pretty. With the makeup, very pretty.

“Sure, why not.”

This was Pinkie Pie’s element. The happy laugh of ponies had an energy all of its own that warmed her right down to the deepest depths of her heart. With the bill being handled by Blueblood tonight, she mostly kept kept her eyes on the amount everypony was drinking as she moved through the crowd. Over-drinking didn’t lead to happy ponies after all! It lead to hangovers and other yucky things.

Slipping past a pair from the lightning crew who were chatting animatedly with each other, she spied Marigold holding court with some of the other actors. Having claimed a pair of tables against the wall directly across from the bar, Marigold was raising a glass to the group. Grinning to herself, she trotted forward, just in time to hear his toast.

“...and while it was quite pleasant to work with you all, I have decided that this will be my point of retirement.”

The warm feeling in Pinkie’s heart drained away. No! The play was supposed to make not want to retire!

Quick as a fox, she zipped around Blue Bell’s right side and hit him with her widest, most sad eyes she could manage.

“Please Mister Marigold! You can’t retire!”

He sighed, gently patting her back. “Sorry kid. I’ve been doing this a long time. I’ve done enough of this game.”

“But….your career could keep going! You’d be great in movies!”

“Pinkie, I don’t want to be in movies. I have no desire to pull up stakes and move out to Las Pegasus. This is my home.”

Pinkie slumped, mane and tail drooping. “...What’s the world supposed to do without your laughter? What am I going to do?”

Sighing, Marigold waved to his fellow actors. “Hit the dance floor for a little bit, would ya?”

They wandered away from the table, leaving Pinkie alone with her idol. She found herself trying very hard to avoid his stare. It was like being glared at by her mom when she had done something wrong.

“I get the feeling this is important to you. Why?”

Pinkie frowned, nervously tapping her hooves together. “Because...I grew up listening to you. I’m not sure I’d be the pony I am today if I your performances didn’t help me giggle myself to sleep.”

Marigold chuckled. “Yeah. I know that feeling. My idol was Charging Cheer. Don’t think he’s really well known outside of Manehatten, but I was devastated when he decided to retire. But, here’s the real trick.” He leaned forward slightly and winked. “A little bit of his routines carry on in mine.”

“Really?” Pinkie sniffed.

“Yup. He could handle a heckler with the best of them. Something that I decided to master as well. And I gotta wonder why the Element of Laughter needs this old stallion to hang around.” He waved a hoof towards the bar’s door. “Shouldn’t you be out there, making your own laughs in the world?”

Pinkie drooped a little more, resting her head on the table. “I guess. I more plan parties than tell jokes though.”

“No reason you can’t learn, just the way I did.”

Pinkie’s ears perked up, a thought bouncing its way through her mind. “Ooo! What about teaching?”

Marigold’s glass paused halfway to his lips and he peered past it with one of the more confused expressions Pinkie had seen in her life. “Pardon?”

“You’ve been acting and performing for a long time! You could teach the next generation of Manehatten’s performers how it's done! That way, your techniques won’t be forgotten!”

Slowly swirling his drink, Marigold’s brown furrowed in thought. “I suppose that’s possible. I have some friends who retired from the business who could use something to do again.” He smiled, “I’ll think about it, kid.”

Pinkie grinned. It was something.

Eventually, the party had to end. As the last party-goers filed out of the building Skitch found herself being supported by Flash and Twilight, one foreleg draped over each of their withers. Those last two glasses of gin had been a mistake, having pushed her past buzzed and into drunk territory.Though not as drunk as she had been the last time.

“Those last two glasses were a mistake,” Flash said, voicing the realization back of her mind.

“I know Flassh. But it was a party.” Yawning, she leaned against his body a little more. “Do...do you think you can help me get back to my hotel?”

Flash examined the street. It was late enough that most of the carriages weren’t out on the streets now, save for the few thestrals that plied that trade. They’d have to hoof it. Sighing, he craned his neck to look at Twilight.

“You know the way?”

“I do!” Pinkie said, interrupting Twilight and springing ahead of the pair. “Follow me!”

“Alright, come on. Quartz, I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t,” she chuckled.

Manehatten’s streets grew quieter as they moved away from the bars and restaurants that catered to the late night crowds. Pinkie lead the way like a candy colored beacon, humming to herself all the while.

Skitch stumbled along with Twilight and Flash’s support. Maybe it was just the booze talking, but Flash’s coat felt very fuzzy and warm as she half leaned against him. And soft. Very soft. And nice. Now she was mentally rambling. …Also, she owed Twilight an apology.

“Thanks again Flash.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“No, sheriously. Enough poniesh think that I’m somethin’ scary. You’ve been nice. Thanksh for being nice.”

“...You’re welcome Skitch.”

“And Twilight...I’m shorry I blew off your concerns. I just...I dunno. I shaw a chance ta get my house back and took it. But you were lookin’ out for me and I blew you off.”

“It’s okay Skitch. If I lost my home...twice...I’m not sure I would have listened either.”

“I’m just glad that it’sh all done,” Skitch said, her tail giving an angry flick. “I shwear if I shaw Quill one more time, I wash gonna punch him right in the jaw! I fink I hate him even more than Riche.”

“Really? Even though Riche was behind all of this?” Flash asked.

“Riche is a corporate dickweed! An annoying, petty corporate dickweed. A pain in my flank, but hish motivations are easy to understand. Quill? He’s...much more shtupid and offensive. He makes me want to vomit and I would dearly want to kick his ass if it wouldn’t get me arrested.”

“S-skitch! That’s horrible!” Twilight admonished, her jaw dropping open in shock.

“Yeah!” Pinkie agreed. “We weren’t even that mean to Black Snooty!”

“Why do you hate him so much?” Twilight asked.

Skitch shuddered, a sneer curling her lips formed from a mixture of anger and disgust. “Because he shouldn’t be, damn it! This ish Equeshtira!”

“...What does that have to do with anything?” Flash asked.

“Look...back at home, back on earth? ...There was this group of people who did...very, very bad things to mine. Almost ash bad ash making a whole country dishappear. But despite all the evidence, all the documentation, seventy-ish years on from...that event, there are horrible, shtupid, twisted people who say that it didn’t happen! Or who say it wasn’t that bad!”

Skitch pulled her leg from Twilight’s back, rubbing at her eyes. “One of the things I’ve been able to tell myself, to help deal with the fact that...I’m never going to see home again, is that...well...Equestria is really nice. This is a nice country and you ponies? You’re all so friendly! And then this asshole comes along and acts just like those people back home! He accuses Celestia of being involved in hiding the truth! Celestia! An absolute monarch whose so pure and nice, she makes Mister Rogers look like Mike Tyson!”

Twilight winced. “...Uhh...Skitch, you’re doing that thing with the names out of context again…”

“My point is, that he’s a stuck up, spoiled brat, mouthin off about shit he’s got no clue about, who reminds me of the people who deny that one of the worst events to ever happen in earth’s history ever happened! I. Hate. Him.”

With her peace said, Skitch lapsed back into silence, now leaning almost completely against Flash as they walked. Twilight bit her lip, Skitch’s words churning over and over in her mind.

“Skitch? Have you considered...letting it go?” she asked after a few minutes of thought.

“Wha?” Skitch blinked through her alcohol induced haze.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that what he’s said about Celestia or Sombra is right or anything. But...I don’t know,” Twilight sighed. “Holding a grudge doesn’t seem healthy. What if we had held a grudge against humans for what The Collector did?”

“I don’t think that it's exactly the same….”

“Maybe. But, Equestria is based on the principles of harmony. We try to forgive and get along and be friends with each other. That’s what Princess Celestia always taught me.”

“I don’t think it’s possible to be friends with that stallion,” Flash said with a deadpan expression.

Twilight shot him an annoyed glare. “Not helping Flash.”

“Look, I’m just saying that not everypony can be friends with everypony else.”

“That’s no excuse to not at least try! To try and be the better pony!”

Skitch grunted. “Can we talk about something else please?”

Pinkie, who had started to look really uncomfortable about the direction the conversation had been taking, suddenly perked up. “Ooo! Skitchy! We have to throw you a house warming party once you get your house back!”

Skitch giggled. “Does it half to be housewarming? What about house cooling?”

“But Skitchy, where would I get enough ice?”

Skitch broke into a giggle-snort that was joined by Flash and Pinkie as they rounded a corner. But they hadn’t taken more than a few more steps when something dove out of a shadow choked alleyway and slammed into Skitch.

Sent into a tangled topple with Flash, Skitch scrambled to get back to her hooves. The world swayed like the rolling deck of a ship, her legs threatening to give out from under her.

“Oh alcohol, you bitch.”

A dark cloaked unicorn came galloping at her, brandishing a metal garbage can lid in his aura.

“Garbage am I? I’ll show you who’s garbage!”

The voice punctured through Skitch’s alcohol fueled daze and she blinked at him through bleary eyes. “Fucking...Quill?”

There was a blur of pink as Pinkie jumped in, throwing her hip into Quill’s, sending him off balance and his top hat tumbling.

“Quill?” Flash gaped as he righted himself. “What in Tartarus are you doing?”

Quill shot Skitch a venomous glare through green stained eyes, that almost leaked malice. “I am going to break that human’s neck!”

Even through her drunk state, the color of Quill’s eyes and their significance was not lost upon Skitch. “Ishat dark magic? Did you turn to dark magic just because I fired you? How damn pathetic are you?”

“You’re really not helping the situation Skitch!” Flash shouted.

“You insult my career, steal my play, threaten me at my home and then make a mockery of me in your production,” Quill snarled. “I should stomp your head in!”

Skitch growled back, her head down, ears flattened and tail thrashing. The alcohol fueled her anger.

“Go jump in whatever this world’s vershion of the East River is! I’ve never been to yer damn home and I had to change the Hitler apologist to something in order to make the whole damn thing work!”

Twisting magic rolled off Quill’s horn as he threw himself towards Skitch with a furious cry. Flash, Pinkie and Twilight immediately jumped into action. Flash and Pinkie jumped towards Quill tackling him to the ground, while Twilight swooped down on Skitch, her horn alight with magic.

“Skitch! Quill! Stop it!”

“You’re in on it! You’re all in on it! The alicorns made the Crystal Empire disappear and they framed my ancestor!” Quill shouted, trying to buck Flash and Pinkie off of him.

“There is nothing to be in on!” Skitch roared back, trying to storm past Twilight with a raised hoof, only to be grabbed by her magic.

“Then why were you against me in the first place! You never gave me a chance!”

“Fuck you! You candy coated, pathetic, descendant of a dictator-”

With a roar and burst of dark magic, Quill threw Pinkie and Flash from him and charged. Skitch drunkenly swayed in response, her horn glowing in sputtering fits.

“Come on!” she snarled. “Hit me!”

But she vanished, along with Twilight, reappearing on the other side of the street. Twilight immediately fired a blast of magic back across the street, blasting Quill in the back and sending him toppling into a trashcan. As quickly as he scrambled back to his hooves, he was sent smashing back to the ground as Flash swooped in, delivering a strong buck to his side. Quill rolled over, jumped up again and with an angry shout, tore off into the night.

Twilight watched him go, considering chasing after, but decided against it. For all she knew, he might try to loop back around and attack Skitch when she was isolated again. She whirled around on her drunken friend, her anger spiking.

“Sun above Skitch, what in Tartarus was that! Why did you antagonize him! Is holding some grudge over events that never happened on this planet, worth possibly getting yourself, or somepony else hurt?”

For this, Skitch seemed to have no answer as she swayed there, head now downcast. “I dunno. He just made me so angry. I just...I had to do something.”

Twilight sighed. “...Alright Skitch...let’s just go home, okay?”

“Okay.”

As they began to walk back to the hotel, Twilight was sure of one thing. Something had to change.

Author's Note

*crawls across the finish line*

It's done!

This fic felt like it took ten times longer to finish than it normally would have. This ending in particular kept vexing me on how to handle it. Does he get arrested? Does Twilight go all future Princess of Friendship and talk him down? In the end, I decided to have Quill run off, with the possibly of him popping up again later. If he's going to have his moment of clarity, I want him to have to "earn" it, so to speak.

Doing a pony version of the Springtime for Hitler song was also one of the most amusing things I've done in my "career" as a fanfiction writer. Totally worth it too! Also, Silver Quill cameo! Cause I love that mad, mad, hippogriff.

Hippogriffs have their own state in the High Confederation of Wings, but can be found scattered across both Equestria and the Confederation. Contrary to popular belief, they are not the end result of pony/griffin relationships but a race that can breed true on its own. Where exactly they come from is something of a mystery, though Princess Celestia is 95% sure that Discord was most likely involved in some fashion.

Epilogue

Most ponies didn’t realize that Princess Celestia had an office.

While the mechanics of government required her to listen to petitions in the throne room, most of the rest of the role of Princess involved paperwork and the nitty gritty of governance. For that, Celestia had her office.

Devoid of the usual gold and white accents of the rest of the palace, it was decked out in simple wooden paneling and red carpet. The shelves on the walls were full of curios and other little knick-knacks she had collected from friends and adventures over the years. Momentos of important times and important creatures in her life.

Sitting behind her desk, Celestia read the report for the third time, just to make sure she hadn’t missed anything, for the tale that it described made little to no sense, even to a being as old and experienced as she. The information about the two thieves Pinkie Pie provided proved to be accurate and head lead a contingent of Manehatten’s guard- and a commander of her own royals- to the bank that was the target.

The description that followed more resembled a comedy of errors than anything else. The two thieves had been spotted trying to pick the lock on the back door of the building and had naturally ran when the guard swooped in. In their attempt to escape, the light blue pony of the pair had tripped over his own bag of tools. His partner hadn’t made it much further when a black cat of all things, charged across the alley, got tangled up under his hooves and made him crash into a nearby dumpster.

It had been that second thing that pushed the idea of the pair being surprising incompetent out of her mind. A conclusion that only grew as the report continued. As soon as the wagon had had gotten a few blocks away from the bank, there had been a sudden reversal. They had managed to swipe the shackle keys from the guards and escape, in a display that was anything but incompetent.

It was an odd coincidence to be sure, but hardly the first one that she had seen swirl round Nouveau Riche and his company. It had grown fast, becoming one of the largest banks in Equestria and invested quite heavily in real estate and railroads. One would expect that with such a varied investment portfolio, there would have been incidents of failed and backfired investments. It was, quite simply, the cost of doing business. But Celestia couldn’t remember Riche and his companies being caught in too many of those situations.

These could be more coincidences, of course. But there was also a chance that Nouveau Riche’s wild success in life had other origins. She couldn’t be sure, with what she had now. No.

This would take some investigation.

“Pass me another slice of pizza, would ya Pinkie?” Rainbow Dash asked, waving a hoof for emphasis.

“Sure!”

Eight friends sat clustered together in the ground floor of Skitch-Sketch’s house. While the massive house warming party that Pinkie wanted had been shot down by Skitch, she had proposed another small movie night in its place. And the movie of choice tonight?

A human and two robot silhouettes dominated the bottom of the screen like they were in a movie theatre. And as the old Universal-International logo appeared on the screen, the human made a sarcastic comment.

“Doesn’t the fact it’s Universal make it international?”

Skitch chuckled at the joke. When one wanted a humor pick up, it was hard to go wrong with Mystery Science Theatre 3000. Sure, there was a chance that she might be the only one in the room to get the jokes, but she had just managed to earn her house back. She was entitled to indulge a little bit.

“Oh! I get it!” Twilight said, sitting up a little straighter. “It’s a play on words! Because it’s universal it would also include all nations and automatically be international as well!”

“Yup, Twilight, that is the joke,” Skitch smiled, snuggling down into her sitting pillow a little more. “By the way, thanks again for helping me move back in everyone.”

“No problem Skitch,” Applejack chuckled. “Glad ta see that you have a home again.”

Home. That word sounded really, really good to Skitch right now. A word that she had earned from everything she had gone through since The Collector had kidnapped her. While it wasn’t exactly the home she had been born in, earning a place in Equestria….

Well, it didn’t feel that bad.

Eventually though, movie night came to an end and everypony got up to shuffle back to their own houses. But to Skitch’s surprize, Twilight hung back after everyone else was out the door.

“Twilight? What’s wrong?”

“There was something I wanted to talk to you about. What happened with Quill….”

Skitch winced. “Yeah...that wasn’t my best moment.”

Twilight frowned. “It was a little more than that. You kept pushing him when you really shouldn’t have. Because you were drunk and venting about your home.”

“I...I couldn’t help it,” Skitch said, nervously shuffling a hoof. “He just stirred up so many emotions.”

Twilight smiled softly, placing a hoof on Skitch’s withers. “Well, I’d like you to do something for me, okay?”

“What’s that?” Skitch said, offering her own slight smile in return.

“I looked around. There’s a therapist here in Ponyville. Please talk to him. If you keep bottling up your feelings about what’s happened to you....well, I don’t want to think about what might happen.”

There really wasn’t any arguing with Twilight’s wide eyed pleading. So, Skitch nodded. “Okay Twilight. I will.”

Author's Note

"This Island Earth can be yours, if the price is right!"

MST3K will never get old.

Therapy has an interesting history in the Skitchverse. The study of the mind started to be pushed after Princess Luna's banishment, encouraged subtly (and sometimes not so subtly) by Princess Celestia. As such, Equestria has come to set the standard when it comes to mental health care. And considering all that's happened to Skitch, she could really use some therapy right now.

The Train There

Morning came early, as it was want to do in the Apple household.

Skitch-Sketch was already beginning to stir when the rooster crow cut through the morning air. A month and a half of living on Sweet Apple Acres had begun to make its routine almost normal for her.

Not that she particularly enjoyed it, all the same.

Her ears swiveled towards the energetic clip-clops of Apple Bloom rushing past the door as she flopped onto her side- correction, her flank. She had those now. Though- four months on since her transformation- she still found herself sometimes forgetting that it had happened in the mind numbing doldrums of that half asleep-half awake state that exists just as one begins to stir. Her current state quickly came crashing back to reality, however, when she tried to wiggle her fingers and toes while stretching and the immovable nature of her hooves once more became apparent.

With a grunt, the unicorn flopped out of bed, landing on those hooves with a loud thunk and a wide yawn.

The guest room that had become her bedroom still mostly showed its Apple Family influences. Simple walls that were a mixture of wood paneling on the lower half and pastel green paint on the upper. Apple painted on the bed, apple painted above the door, apple painted on the door.

Still, she had been working to add her own taste in decoration to her living space. A pencil sketch of the Chicago skyline was pinned against one wall, a drawing of her own family (with her female self rather than male) pinned in the middle of that. Around the rest of the room, sketches of her Ponyville friends and neighbors adorned the walls, creating an improvised pencil gallery of ponydom.

Trotting across the floor with a slight sway in her step, Skitch paused before the sturdy square dresser and attached vanity mirror that was nestled against the left hoofed wall. Three brushes, a nail file, a dull metal hook like device (known as a hoof picker, according to Rarity), and pair of clean towels waited for the morning ritual.

And what a morning ritual it was.

Skitch had quickly learned upon returning to Equestria that daily bathing really wasn’t something ponies did. Which wasn’t to say that they didn’t bathe at all, quite the contrary, in fact. But pony coats produced their own natural oils that helped keep them soft, shiny, and somewhat water resistant. Excessive bathing and shampooing could strip those oils away leaving one’s coat, as Rarity would put it, “a horribly dry and itchy rats nest”; a characterization of rats that Fluttershy had immediately objected to, the pegasus pointing out their grooming habits.

Thusly, Skitch had moved to a routine of daily brushings, with a bath every three days or so, and shampooing every other week.

Picking up the first brush (use of her magic for minor things had become second nature at this point) she attacked her coat, moving down the length of her body in a series of circular motions to work the dust and dirt loose. Once that was accomplished, she switched to a longer bristled affair to straighten everything out. The third brush attacked her mane and tail, working the kinks out of their naturally wavy state.

Then it was time to check her hooves. This was where she was quite glad that Equestrian ponies seemed to be double jointed pretty much everywhere. Each one was checked and then cleaned with the pick, great care being taken to make sure nothing was wedged between the frog and the nail of the hoof. Finally, the towels were used to rub down her coat for a final polish.

“Oy vey.” She sighed, taking in her groomed appearance in the mirror. “Two more years of this.”

She paused for a moment, a slight grin crossing her muzzle.

“My coat is shiny though.”

“Skitch!” Applejack’s voice hollered up the stairs. “Ya better move your tail before all the breakfast is gone!”

With a half cry-half yelp, Skitch charged down stairs sliding into the crowded kitchen. Delicious aromas immediately hit her nose from the thinning repast spread out across the apple wood table.

It was waffle day!

Crowding into a seat next to Big Mac she eagerly joined the flurry of hooves the scooped food onto their plates. She had learned that being slow and precise was a good way to go hungry rather quickly upon moving in. Despite the large quantity of food that Applejack and Big Mac cooked each morning, the whole family ate like...well, horses.

The stacks of waffles, scrambled eggs (the fact that ponies could still eat eggs was something she appreciated) and hay bacon (the existence of which still boggled her mind) dwindled in quick order, until there was only one fluffy waffle left. Skitch’s magic and Big Mac’s fork lashed out for it at the same time, the pair finding themselves stuck in a breakfast based tug of war.

“Big Mac.” Skitch glared. “Leggo my Eggo.”

“Nope.” The stallion smirked back.

“Drop the waffle!”

“Ya drop the waffle!”

They were almost snout to snout now, neither one willing to back down.

“I want it.” Skitch declared.

“Ah’m bigger than you. Ah need the energy.”

“Consarnit you two.” Applejack drawled. “Just kiss and get it over with already.”

Skitch sputtered in indignation, losing her grip on said breakfast treat. Big Mac took advantage of her lapse in concentration to scarf down the waffle and trot for the door to get a jump on his morning chores, Apple Bloom slipping out behind him. Skitch glared daggers at Applejack, the farmer chuckling at the unicorn’s indignation.

“Not funny.”

“Aw, lighten up.” She grinned back. “Ah was just teasin’.”

“‘Sides,” Granny Smith grinned. “You two would be downright cute together.”

“Nope.” Skitch responded with a frown.

“Now, now.” The elderly Apple chided with a wave of her hoof. “Yer a fine young mare in the prime of yer life.”

“Mrs. Smith.” She blinked. “I was human. I’m still planning on changing back when I can.”

“Well, nopony’s perfect.”

Reduced to a stunned silence, Skitch could only watch as Granny Smith trotted from the room with a chuckle and a wink. Applejack shook her head, pushing Skitch’s dropped jaw closed.

“Ya’ll right there?”

“...That depends. Did your grandmother just try to set me up with your brother?”

“Ahh, I’m sure she was just kidding.”

“Uh huh.” Skitch rolled her eyes. “Whatever you say AJ. Anyway, what’s on the agenda for today?”

“Nothin’ that I can’t handle with Big Mac. Go ahead and take the day off.”

“Huh?”

“Skitch. How many jobs ya been working to try and earn your house back? Take a break. That lawyer Celestia gave ya seems to have things well in hoof.”

“Hmmph.” Skitch frowned, heading for the door. “I was expecting him to back down when I threatened the lawsuit. But no, he’s downright prepared to play this out to the end.”

“And yer gonna win.” Applejack nodded, throwing a leg around her friend’s neck. “You’ve done nothin’ but try to help Equestria since ya got here. Even when you have done some...foolish things.” She finished with a shoulder punch.

“You’re never going to let me live that secret file thing down, are you?”

“Maybe. But right now its still somethin’ ah can rib ya about.” With her peace said, Applejack calmly flipped her stetson onto her head and trotted out the door. “See ya tonight.”

“Hmm. A day off then.” Skitch thought, shrugging. “Ehh. Why not.”

Skitch celebrated her day off with another two hours of sleep, throwing on her saddlebags and wandering her way towards town after the sun had gotten a good start on its journey through the sky. Ponyville’s farmers were already at work, though, as the season moved into late summer the pace of their output had slowed. It was time to preserve stocks, begin to prepare for the autumn and winter, and the final harvest of the season.

Becoming part of a farming community had been another one of those minor things about the shift in her life that she had never really considered until it happened. Living in Chicago, food was the thing she got at the store, or at Giordano’s when she wanted a deep dish pizza. But now she was surrounded by green and could get fresh produce pretty much whenever she wanted.

Damn, I could go for some Giordano’s though.

Crossing into town proper her journey came to a pause as a pony crossed the street in front of her.

Time Turner.

The stallion trotted along with bit of a jaunt in his step, humming a cheerful tune as he slid a few pears into his saddlebags.

Skitch’s eyes narrowed at the sight of the hourglass cutie-mark on his side. Like all Bronies, she was at the very least aware of the fan interpretations of Doctor Whooves. She couldn’t help but wonder if that was the case in this universe.

On the one hoof, she hadn’t noticed anything like daleks or cyberponies skulking around and he looked kind of similar to a pony she had seen on the night The Collector attacked. On the other one, many assumptions she had made about this world had been wrong so far, and he was eating pears.

The Doctor hated pears.

She hesitated for a few moments, before following, hanging back a few feet to try and not make it obvious that she was basically stalking him. She could only imagine the conversation that she’d be forced to have with him if he did notice.

“Well, you see, I was following you because I thought you were an alien madman with a box that travels through time.” She muttered under her breath, following the circuitous path that Time Tuner was weaving through the streets of the town.

So far, he hadn’t noticed, stopping every so often to chat with other ponies, usually about clocks. Being Ponyville’s resident clockmaker, that did make a certain amount of sense. But as they traversed almost the whole length of Ponyville, Skitch was beginning to get the impression that she was being given the run around.

First it was to Sparkler’s jewelry shop, then back towards the Cafe, then a loop back around town towards Carousel Boutique, before turning around yet again and heading back towards his home.

Said home was one of the houses near the outskirts of Ponyville, much like Fluttershy’s. Unlike Fluttershy’s however, Time Turner’s abode was near the more benign Whitetail Wood, rather than the untamed Everfree. He disappeared inside his simple two two story building, leaving Skitch staring at the front door.

“Hmm.” She frowned, trotting around the right side of the building. Sure enough, there were a few windows along that wall. With a grunt, she reared up on her hind legs, resting her forehooves on the edge of the window to peer inside.

The living room was nice looking at least. A long couch decorated with a few throw pillows was set across from a fireplace, with another sitting chair for guests to the right of that. The circular rug was plush, and the room was bedecked with clocks.

But there was no sign of Time Turner or a TARDIS yet.

“Skitch?”

Jerking away from the window, she spun about to find the form of Twilight Sparkle staring at her. The unicorn had one of her eyebrows raised in an expression that asked “Why?”. Skitch grinned back, nervously rubbing at one of her forelegs.

“I can explain.”

“Please tell me this isn’t that whole time pony thing again?”

The conversation between the two about Doctor Whooves and time ponies in general had been interesting, to say the least.

“I wanted to confirm.” Skitch frowned.

Rolling her eyes, Twilight began to trot away, Skitch falling into step alongside her. “I can already confirm for you!” She sighed. “Because everything that you say is impossible! Especially time travel!”

“Just like humans didn’t exist either?” Skitch fired back, a smirk playing across her muzzle.

“Okay.” Twilight paused, frowning at her. “That doesn’t count. You’re not from this universe. You’re saying that time ponies and a time traveler with a blue box-”

“A police call box.”

“A box that’s based on technology we don’t have! We don’t even have phones yet.”

“Well, yeah. He’s a time traveller.”

Silence hung between the two ponies for a moment, Skitch grinning goofily, Twilight glaring back. But then Twilight sighed and shook her head.

“Do you and Pinkie plan stuff like this?”

“Not really.” Skitch shrugged. “She’s just Pinkie. And I’m just me.”

With a sigh and a flick of her tail, Twilight started walking again. “You two are going to drive me insane.”

“Considering Ponyville, you’ll be in good company.”

“Skitch!”

“What!” She grinned, poking her friend in the side. “They’re your words!” Her horn glowed for a moment, and she spoke again in Twilight’s own voice. “Everypony in this town is crazy!”

“T-that’s not fair!” Twilight sputtered. “That was before I got to know everypony!”

“Twi. I’m just pulling your leg.” Skitch smiled. “So, were you in the right place at the right time to see me making a fool of myself?”

“More that I saw you following him, and then I decided to follow you.”

“Ahh, so it’s a bit of a conga line of following ponies.”

“Umm…excuse me.”

Both ponies stared up at the gray coated pegasus that was hovering overhead, dressed in the blue jacket and cap of Equestrian Postal Service.

“Oh! Morning Ditzy.” Twilight smiled. “Can we help you?”

Dipping her wing into her saddlebags, Ditzy presented a collection of envelopes. “Just have your mail. You got a bit of a stack this time Skitch.”

Skitch took the envelopes, looking each one over. The first was plain brown, about as thick as a book, its neatly written address indicating that it was from her lawyer. The address on the second envelope, also brown, was unfamiliar, but from Canterlot. The third was pristine white, and sealed with the mark of the sun, indicating that it was from Celestia’s desk. The fourth, also white, envelope was from Manehatten of all places. Breaking the seal on the first, Skitch unfolded the small brick of documents and began to read.

“What’s it say?” Twilight asked, as Ditzy flew off to continue her rounds.

“Seems that the Canterlot Chronicle is moving to quash my injunction, on the grounds that I’m interfering with their ability to conduct business. Great Writ’s fighting it, naturally.”

“You don’t sound that worried.”

“Father’s a lawyer, remember?” Skitch shrugged, folding it back up and tucking it into her saddlebags. “I’m well aware of how long these things take. And Riche seems intent on making sure this goes all twelve rounds.”

“And how long do you picture those rounds taking?” Twilight asked as Skitch began to open the next letter.

“There’s a chance I’ll be human again before I have that house back if he really wants to drag this out.”

Skitch turned her attention to the simple brown letter, a frown growing deeper on her features as she scanned each line. Then, without so much as a word, she folded it up, tucked it into the saddlebags and moved onto the next one.

“Sk-”

“Don’t ask.”

The envelope from Princess Celestia was next. Opening it revealed a golden ticket that was familiar to both Skitch and Twilight.

“For the Grand Galloping Gala?” Twilight asked. “Aren’t you already invited?”

“Considering that was a false memory, she probably wanted to make it offical again.” Skitch reasoned, quickly scanning the accompanying note. “Which is exactly what this says.”

The final envelope had a wax seal on the back, depicting ponified versions of the comedy and tragedy masks. Skitch broke it with a flick of her magic and pulled the letter from within. Her frown quickly reversed itself as she read its contents.

“Oh ho! Now this is something.”

“Good news?”

“Looks like a theatre company in Manehatten wants my help on a production. A Perfect Pegasus Productions. Doing the special effects and what have you. Says that they’ll pay handsomely.”

Twilight raised an eyebrow at that.

“Really?”

“Really.” Skitch nodded, waving the letter at her. “Depending on how handsomely, it might put me over the edge to make a down-payment on my house.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me” Twilight frowned.

“”Well, no. I mean it says right there-”

“Skitch! Think about it! Why would a theatre company all the way in Manehatten ask you for help? I mean...it’s Manehatten! The city’s even bigger than Canterlot, and its one of the centers for overseas immigration! It’s packed with ponies!”

She began to pace, slowly circling Skitch-Sketch as she ranted. “There is no way they wouldn’t be able to find somepony who could do what you could do. It has to be a trap! Lure you to a strange and bit city...”

“Twilight.”

“And then maybe they can extort you, or hold you hostage, or even try to kill you!”

“Twilight!”

“I’ll write Princess Celestia. She needs to know.”

“TWILIGHT!”

Twilight stopped mid step and mid rant.

“Okay, first.” Skitch began to enumerate. “I grew up in a big city. I know how to handle myself in them. Two, I am still the ‘alien’ around here. They could be wanting to add a little more ‘mystery’ to the production by having the human working on it. And three, if things start to look too hot, I can always get out of there.”

Twilight’s frown deepened, the unicorn looking quite unconvinced.

“Skitch, a week ago we went to the most corrupt city in Equestria helped put a pony in jail. You’re not some nobody from earth anymore!” Her jaw dropped, eyes going wide as she suddenly realized what she had just accused Skitch of. “N-not to say that you were worthless or anything.”

“No, I get it.” Skitch frowned, her tail giving a nervous flick. “You’re saying that I have to be careful and that I can’t just be the face in the crowd anymore.”

Twilight sighed shuffling a hoof. “Alright. I can tell that your mind is made up. Just...take somepony with you. If nopony else will go with you, I will.”

“Don’t worry Twilight. I’m sure that one of our friends might want to tag along for a trip to Manehatten.”

The search was not going well.

Applejack couldn’t get away from the farm right now, for obvious reasons. Likewise, Fluttershy had a recent influx of patients to take care of and would be staying right in Ponyville. Rainbow Dash was a similar no go. There was a Wonderbolts show in Caterlot, demanding her attention. And Pinkie Pie...well, she had gasped and taken off halfway through her sentence.

Which left Rarity.

Admittedly, she could just have Twilight come along, but Skitch could recognize that Twilight was obsessing right now. And if she brought Twilight along, there was a good chance that the unicorn might get more wound up. Skitch hoped to save Twilight that stress.

Pushing the front door to Carousel Boutique open, she stepped inside. The pastel pink and purple interior was looking less garish to her these days, more warm and inviting, much like Rarity’s personality. It seemed like she was growing more used to the colors and general tone of Equestria. As each day ticked by, Equestria just felt more and more real to her, no less vibrant or legitimate than earth. Maybe a little more like home, in a way.

“Welcome to Carousel Boutique, where everything is-” Rarity began her spiel, swooping down upon the unicorn before she realized who it was. “Oh! Good morning Skitch. Is there something I can do for you?”

“Well….I have kind of a favor to ask you. Would you like to come with me to Manehatten?”

Rarity raised one of her thin eyebrows. “You’re going to Manehatten?”

“Yeah. I actually got an offer for some work up there on...well, whatever the Equestrian version of Broadway is. And since I need every bit I can get my hooves on right now, I’m going to go take a look.”

“Well, I commend your efforts, but why?”

“Ask you to come along? Twilight doesn’t want me to go alone. She thinks it might be a trap of some kind.” She shrugged. “But I don’t want her to come along and stress out about things constantly. She needs some time to calm down.”

“Hmm.” Rarity hummed, before breaking into a smile. “Well, it just so happens that I also have business in Manehatten. We shall go together and see all the sights!”

“I’ll hold you too that Rare.” Skitch smiled back.

The next morning, Skitch-Sketch made for the train station. Trotting down the road from Sweet Apple Acres, she adjusted her saddlebags of holding, making sure they were fitted snugly across her back. Inside rested a few belongings, mostly things for hygiene, the dress Rarity had made her for the Gala and a money pouch of her precious bits.

With her belongings packed for a two day trip and possible multi-day slice of work afterwards, she made for the train station. Rarity was already waiting outside the ticket office when she arrived, a pastel pink suitcase resting at her side. She also had a thermos in hoof and looked much less enthused about being awake right now than Skitch was.

And yet, her mane is still perfect. Skitch mused as she trotted up to her. “Good morning Rarity.

“Mmph.” She grunted, raising what Skitch guessed was coffee to her lips. The thermos stuck to the end of her hoof, a phenomenon that Skitch had taken to calling “tactile telekinesis”. Still, after a sip of her brew, she was already beginning to look more with it. “Ahh. Better.”

“Not a morning pony are you?”

“A lady needs her beauty sleep.” Rarity smiled, picking up her bag and sashaying over to the one of the ticket sellers. “Two for Manehatten please, private cabin.”

The teller swung his gaze towards the schedule and clock on the wall. With a nod to himself, he set about stamping out the ticket, marking the destination and number of passengers. “That’ll be eighty bits mam.”

Rarity dug the coins out, placing them in neat stacks before the teller with an exacting attention to detail. He by contrast, gave them a quick count before sweeping them into his cash drawer with single lazy sweep of his foreleg. Taking the ticket, Rarity lead the way, Skitch rummaging in her own bag as she followed along.

“I owe you fourty then?” She asked.

“Oh, don’t worry about it darling. This one’s on me.”

“You sure about that?” Skitch blinked as they trotted into the train car. “Eighty bits isn’t anything to sneeze at.”

“It’s quite alright.” Rarity dismissed. “Truthfully, I could use a friend on this trip.”

“Really? Why?”

Entering their private cabin, Rarity quickly stowed her baggage before flopping onto one of the padded benches with a dramatic flourish. “I am going to Manehatten to visit my father.” She explained, lazily twirling a hoof in mid air. “Which is always an interesting experience.”

“Oh, because of the whole gender thing?”

“Yes.” Rarity nodded. “He…” She frowned, “It isn’t that he was against my transformation or tried to stop it. He wanted me to be happy. But on the other hoof, he’s never really...understood it and why I like fashion the way I do.” She sighed. “I think that he still sees me as the little colt he was teaching how to play hoofball.”

“I’ll be honest.” Skitch shrugged. “I’ve seen the pictures and I still have a hard time picturing you as a guy. By the standards of femininity on earth or equis, you kind of are the archetypical example in a lot of ways. Plus, I’m just so used to thinking of you as a mare.”

“Well, that’s kind of the point. I am a mare and always have been.” She smiled. “And the fact that you do think of me as one makes me smile.”

“Well, I’m glad to be your temporary Pinkie Pie then.” Skitch smirked.

“What about yourself?” Rarity asked, the train whistle sounding as the train began to move. “How are you handling your transition? The...effects…” She coughed demurely, a slight flush creeping into her cheeks. “That one must get used to going from male to female...well...we’ve already seen the effects of that once.”

Skitch sunk in her seat, her own cheeks burning. Rarity was referring to, of course, the first heat she had experienced upon her return to Equestria. Which had been an utterly embarrassing affair. She hadn’t been prepared for the surge of hormones and just how naked she had suddenly realized she was. Sinking even lower in her seat, she remembered her desperate rush to Rarity that time.

“Rarity!” She had shouted, bursting through the door like the Kool-Aid Man. “Panties!”

“Excuse me?” She blinked.

“Underware! Lacy underthings! Clothing! Something to cover up more with cause...cause….”

“What? What is it?”

“I’m...naked.” Skitch whispered.

It had not been her proudest moment. “Well, when I’m not making a complete fool of myself, I’m doing alright.” She shrugged. “The change in species is still the stranger thing to deal with though.”

“Ah, yes.” Rarity frowned. “I am still sorry this happened.”

Skitch shrugged. “I don’t want to overstate it. I mean, trust me Rarity, there are a lot worse fates in the multi-”

Her explanation was interrupted by the rapid tapping of hooves on the car window. Both ponies looked to find a pink maned head grinning at them. Upside down. Skitch slid the window open with a raised eyebrow, allowing Pinkie Pie to squirm her way inside.

“Pinkie? What are you doing here?” Rarity asked, rather confused at the sudden presence of the earth pony.

“Duh! I’m totally coming along!” She beamed, hopping up and down with wild excitement. “I’ve always wanted to go to Manehatten! The birthplace and home of vaudeville!”

“Huh.” Skitch blinked. “They have that here too?”

“Yuperoony!” Pinkie grinned even wider, lowering the front of her body close to the floor and rapidly tip-tapping her hooves. “I used to listen to vaudeville broadcasts on the radio aaaallll the time when I was a filly! I have to come!”

“...You could have told me that at the time Pinkie.” Skitch chuckled. “I didn’t think you wanted to come.”

“Sorry Skitchy! I was so nerviouscited!”

Rarity smiled. “Well, if you wish to join us on our little Manehatten adventure, we’d be glad for you to join us.” She paused for a moment. “Though, there is the question of how you got on this train.”

Just then the door to the cabin slid open and the conductor stepped inside. “Tickets please.”

Skitch and Rarity facehooved.

After the situation was worked out with the conductor (and Pinkie Pie paid to stay) the three friends settled in for the day and a half journey to Manehatten. Pinkie and Skitch mostly passed the time with card games. Rarity by contrast used the time to do some sketching, her brain chewing on both new possible designs and the question of what her father wanted.

The train snaked its way north, passing Canterlot and then curving east to follow the foothills of the mountain range that bore the city of the alicorns aloft. Skitch looked up from the poker hoof she was holding, watching the granite peaks whip past.

“What’s the matter Skitchy?” Pinkie interrupted. “You never seen mountains before?”

“Well, not this close. Chicago is pretty much surrounded by flat plains.” She shrugged. “I was just struck by how they looked like some mountains in a fantasy movie I watched back on earth. I’m half expecting an ancient dwarven kingdom to lie beneath those mountains.”

Rarity cocked her head at that statement, looking up from her sketching. “You’re not too far from the truth darling. According to Twilight, there used to be a great city of the diamond dogs under those stones. It was the capital from what I remember. I believe we’ll pass the the old gates on the way to Manehatten.”

“Oh.” Skitch blinked. “I’m surprised there was another large city so close to Canterlot. Wouldn’t there have been territory conflicts?”

“Well, the diamond dogs were largely a subterranean race.” Rarity answered, returning to her sketching as she talked. “There weren’t many places for them to cross paths with ponies. And Celestia was friends with the king at the time, so it worked well.”

“What happened to them?”

“The Age of Nightmares.” Pinkie answered sadly, tapping at her own cards. “That’s always the answer to the question ‘What happened to whoever.’. I’m just glad it’s faaaaaar in the past now.”

Shrugging, Skitch returned to her card game diversions, not wanting to push that particular fact. It was a few hours later, when the train did pass the entrance to the ancient diamond dog kingdom, that she broke away again and peered out the window.

It really was like something out of Lord of the Rings. The entrance rose high, carved directly into the dark granite itself. Crenellated battlements soared over the double stone doors that were at least twenty feet fall by Skitch’s estimation. The doors were flanked by two equally large diamond dog statues, standing with noble bearing, one paw outstretched, one paw resting on the hilt of a giant pick.

A short and narrow valley ran from the gates to the edge of the train tracks, a quaint little village nestled between its slopes. It reminded her of Ponyville in a way, though the buildings had more in common with the stone gates, than the thatch roofed cottages of her home away from home.

“I guess that’s a diamond dog village?” She asked Rarity and Pinkie, who were watching it pass with her.

“Yes, I believe so.” Rarity hummed, tapping her hoof against the glass. “Diamond dogs have been living in Equestria since their mountain kingdoms fell.”

“You sound like you know a bit about them.”

“Hmm. Perhaps a little bit. You know Sparkler? Owns the jewelry store?”

Skitch nodded. “Yup. I’ve seen her around town.”

“She gets her gems from a diamond dog supplier. He seemed nice enough so we’ve exchanged a conversation or two.”

The journey lapsed back into its boring routine, then three of them sleeping in the car that night. Skitch awoke the next morning, to Pinkie Pie’s head resting on her side, the party pony softly snoring as the morning sun streamed in through the windows.

Skitch gently patted her on the head, before carefully extricating herself from the pink snuggles and returning to the window. The stone and glass spires of Manehatten rose in the distance, looking like they could have come right from 1920’s earth.

Skitch smiled at the sight. It was the closest to being home she had experienced since coming back to Equestria. Ponyville was a quaint little village. Canterlot was Minas Tirith with horses. Even Neigh Orleans, while a major city, with it’s low buildings was something rather foreign to her. But Manehatten, set upon a peninsula of land, with it’s collection of skyscrapers dominating the center of the skyline, stirred memories of Chicago and its own towers.

She couldn’t wait to see what was waiting for her within those concrete canyons.

Author's Note

To answer the first question, that I'm sure everyone will have about a story involving the Equestrian equivalent of Broadway and vaudeville.

Yes, there will be musical numbers later.

I've actually been listening to more than a few of them while writing this to help get in the right mood while writing. And as we see, Skitch is quite as capable of engaging in crazy Ponyville shenanigans as anypony else! Time Turner may want to get a restraining order or something.

Memories of Sigil

An awkward silence hung between Skitch and Flash like a shroud. The pegasus was at the stove, managing a collection of fluffy looking pancakes, while Skitch had parked herself at the small kitchen table with a cup of coffee clutched resolutely between her hooves.

The kitchen was a small, cozy affair, not much more than a stove, a fridge and a collection of cabinets against one wall, while a small round table sat under the window on the opposite. It was the kind of kitchen that wouldn’t be out of place in a college dorm. Not that it was easy for her to focus on that with what was going on in her head right now.

No more alcohol. She winced at the chorus of ponies that were still tap dancing away on her brain. I obviously can’t be trusted with the stuff anymore.

“So...want to say what last night was?” Flash spoke up, casually flipping another pancake.

“...You’re really going to have to narrow that down.”

A plate of pancakes was dropped before her with an all too loud thunk. “The drinking.” He commented, taking his own seat across from her. “You were out of control.”

“No, I was overcompensating.” Skitch muttered. She helped herself to a long drink of coffee, hoping that the caffeine would help dull the pain of her headache.

Flash paused, forkful of pancake halfway to his mouth. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I’m used to being a good hundred pounds heavier.” Skitch deadpanned, before attacking her own hotcakes. “I’m like...half my usual size as a pony. Keep forgetting that when it comes to alcohol.”

“You mean-”

“Yeah. I drink like I’m still human.”

Flash cocked his head at that comment. “You threw back something like seven shots. Do humans usually drink like that?”

“Look, Flash? I…” She stole a few bites of pancake, more to give herself time to think than anything else. “Its been a very, very rough patch of my life. I wanted to drink to unwind and I went a little too far.”

“And your whole show on the dance floor?”

“....Yeah...well,” she shrugged. “Some dance to remember, I dance to forget.”

“Hmmph. Well, I still didn’t appreciate your accusation. Especially since you were the one who asked me not to leave.”

Skitch winced. Despite desperately wracking her brain, she couldn’t remember saying that, though...she could picture it. Thinking harder, bits and flashes of nightmares that she experienced last night bubbled back to the surface. Friends and family, both equine and human, locked in great daggers of ice seemed to be the theme.

Maybe I should look into seeing a psychologist. She considered. This can’t be healthy. Still….

“Flash...I am sorry.” She admitted with bowed head, ears pulling flat to match her mood. “I jumped to conclusions that I shouldn’t have. It’s just...waking up in a guy’s bed really freaked me out.” Hooves tapping out a nervous rhythm upon the table, she found herself staring into the dark liquid of her coffee. “I’ve only been female for a little while and I’ve heard enough stories where that was the start of bad things….”

The angry glare on Flash’s face softened slightly. With a snort he leaned back in his seat. “Okay. Just...be careful about what you throw around. That’s a pretty serious accusation.”

With a sigh of her own, Skitch let herself slump in her seat. Her pancake’s health and the dull clink of fork on plastic reflected her drifting mind. Best to consider what the next step in trying to avoid Riche’s trap was. Make the production a success still seemed the most direct path, but she might as well try to climb the Canterhorn in the dead of winter- shaved- with the play she was stuck with.

Which, come to think of it, lead to another important question.

“So, Flash. What do you know about this Obsidian Noctem Quill? You’re active in the city’s theatre scene. If he’s a local, you probably heard of him before, right?”

The pegasus tapped his fork against his plate. “Yeah...I’ve heard of him before….” He answered after a moment’s pause. “He has a...reputation.”

“...I don’t like how you say ‘reputation’.”

“Come on. I’m sure you know what I mean.” Flash snorted, stabbing at his pancakes again. “You don’t have controversial writers where you come from?”

“We’ve had plenty.” Skitch countered. “But they’re usually controversial for a reason. How did this guy earn his bones?” A confused blink from Flash made her roll her eyes, and qualify her statement. “His reputation. How did he earn that reputation?”

“By being a stone cursed bastard!”

Glittering Quartz had appeared at the kitchen door, eyes half closed and fur disheveled, yet with a deep sneer twisting her muzzle. Skitch couldn’t help but recoil from the display and the very sharp looking canine teeth it revealed. Flash- by contrast- was unconcerned simply waving a hoof towards the stove.

“Coffee, Quartz. You’ll feel better.”

The bubbling pot called the diamond dog forward, muttering half formed curses under her breath all the while. Watching the situation unfold, Skitch raised an eyebrow. “So...personal stake?”

“The first production,” Quartz grumbled, “he ever ruined was a retelling of the fall of The Glimmering Pillars.” Angrily snatching the pot off the stove, she poured herself a healthy portion of coffee before stomping over to the table and flopping into the third chair.

“The Glimmering Pillars?”

The slight sneer returned. “It’s what the diamond dog kingdom under Equestria was called. Naturally, he got most of the details wrong, all to push some...honorless, twisted, insulting theory that the collapse was an inside job!”

The comparison between diamond dogs and the dwarves of so much fantasy lore stood out all the more in Skitch’s mind now. The image of a thousand diamond dogs marching in heavy armor, was filed away in her mind for the time being. Still, task at hoof.

“Let me guess…” She frowned. “This kind of defines the majority of his work?”

“He’s one of those conspiracy types,” Flash grumbled. “Celestia is actually a tyrant. She banished Luna to seize power. And just on and on like that.”

“Heh. Well, if it’s any consolation, we have conspiracy theorists back on earth too.”

“Yeah? Do yours claim to be descended from famous tyrants?”

There was a pause as Skitch considered that question. “I’m...not sure, really. I can’t say I’ve ever heard one say something like that...but I make a point to avoid those types of people.”

Quartz snorted into her cup. “Lucky. He speaks at great length about how he is the second son of the second son of the second son of King Sombra himself.”

The confirmation of what Quill’s play had claimed, hung in Skitch’s mind. As bizarre as her life had become, the thought of some mare willingly having sex with the stairs and crystal king seemed all the more beyond the pale. Maybe if the hypothetical mare in question had an attraction to power more than the pony but the idea still seemed ludicrous.

“Hehe.” She giggled. “Can you imagine that relationship? Like...his wife stays home and maintains the crystal castle while he’s off being evil. Then he comes back and talks sweet nothings in her ear and it’s all,” leaning forward she threw her voice deeper, effecting a mocking like tone, “slaaaaves! Evil! Evil! Crysssstaaaallll!”

“I more pictured him asking her to pick up a collection of shackles for the prisoners on the way back from the corner store.” Glittering chuckled.

“Is that before or after they pick what wallpaper goes best in the dungeons?” Flash finished with a sarcastic twirl of a hoof.

“...Still,” Skitch blinked. “The family didn’t stick with their daddy when he went all evil?”

Glittering shook her head, “Most were driven from the Crystal Empire before it vanished...though nopony knows what happened to the youngest daughter.”

“And now, we’re dealing with Quill’s tribute to his ancestor,” Flash finished with a shrug. “I mean…he’s more annoying than anything else. Probably why he was chosen. He’s just a fool.”

Smirking, Skitch shrugged. “Yeah, well, as my Uncle Tad told me once, ‘Beware a goat’s front, a mule's back and a fool’s every side.’”

Flash gave her an odd look before shrugging himself, “Hmm. Maybe. But mind if I throw you a question now?”

“It’s a free country, last time I checked.”

Nodding, Flash pressed on. “Why did you come back?”

“What do you mean?”

“According to the papers, you helped save the world, and you obviously had a way to leave. Sounds like you had a happy ending.”

Skitch tasted the coffee again- the liquid threatening to burst forth with the remains of last night’s drinking- but forced it back down with another gulp, considering how to respond. “I suppose that my response to that would be,” she eventually supplied, ears and tail drooping, “‘If you want a happy ending, that depends on where you stop the story.’”

The confused stares from Flash and Glittering elicited a sigh, “Look. After things went down with The Collector, I visited a lot of places. Returning things he stole at first, but eventually I tried to go home. I needed to let my family know what happened. It...didn’t work,” she admitted after a long pause. “For a variety of reasons. But one of the places I stopped at to try and get back was the city of Sigil.”

“Can’t say that I’ve ever heard of that city,” Flash commented. “It’s not in Equestria is it?”

“Flash, it isn’t in this universe. It’s….”

Drifting off, Skitch began to reach into her wellspring of magic. It would be easier to show, rather than engage in some long winded explanation. . But a fresh round of pain surged right through the core of her horn in response, the hangover striking back with a vengeance. Hissing through her teeth, she rubbed at the base of the bony protrusion. The mundane explanation would have to do.

“Okay, so, Sigil. Picture a giant ring hanging in the sky,” she explained, forming a vague ring shape with her forelegs. “Set above and parallel to a jet black spire that rises from the surrounding plain. The city lines the inside edge of the ring.”

Glittering stared at her like she had just sprouted a second head, “That sounds like...massively impractical construction.”

“It’s the outer planes. A place where the basic...principles of sapient morality are made manifest.” Skitch shrugged. “A floating ring city is nothing. Anyway, Sigil is known as the City of Doors. The place is criss-crossed with doors and archways and other portals that can supposedly get you to anywhere in the multiverse. You just gotta find the right one.”

“Huh. Sounds like you had a good-,” Flash began, only to be cut off by a raised hoof.

“No. I didn’t. It was one of the dumbest ideas I ever came up with. You’re talking about a city where beings that embody the very nature of good and evil are forced to live side by side by a creature of supreme power called ‘The Lady of Pain’. That’s her actual name!”

“Plus,” she continued, the rant picking up steam. “If I hadn’t picked the right door, there’s no telling where I would have landed. I mean...Elemental Plane of Fire? It’s a place that’s on fire! All the time!”

“Well, that obviously didn’t happen….”

“No...just...everything else went wrong,” She shrugged. “You’re both Manehatteners. Bet you can peg a tourist a mile away, right?”

“They do have a certain wide eyed and scared look to them,” Flash smirked.

“Take that effect and magnify it. Everyone who lives in Sigil is pretty damn jaded about seeing weird things, so my own wide eyed shock at everything I was seeing marked me as a ‘Primer’...or as many would declare me ‘an easy mark’. So,” she twirled a hoof. “That, combined with the fact I was a rather...unique...even compared to the other residents of Sigil, lead to me being harassed. By everyone.”

“Everyone?”

“*Everyone*. Even the city guard just seemed to be there to screw with me,” she finished with a shrug.

Flash motioned with a hoof for her to continue, “Oh no. You pried the bit about my name out last night. I want to hear this.”

“Fine,” Skitch gave in with a huff. “I suppose it is fair.”

Closing her eyes for a moment to focus, she called the memories of the event forth, beginning her tale. “The whole situation began while I was in the Market Ward, the first morning I was there. Most of the city was still in shadows- the sky hadn’t entirely lightened yet- as I was working my way towards the Grand Bazaar to exchange my Equestrian currency for raw gold and gems.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause oddly marked coinage in other realities might be given an odd glance, and I had no clue if I’d actually be able to find my way back in Sigil. I had other universes that I was going to try if things there didn’t play out,” she supplied. “With the raw metal and gems though, I could sell them where ever I wound up for the local currency.”

“Now that is smart,” Quartz nodded, urging her to continue. “So, what happened?”

“Well,” she moved on, an almost wistful smile playing across her muzzle. “I probably had outed myself as a Primer the moment my hooves crossed the boundary. I was still kind of taking in the sights. If I looked straight up, I could see the city coling back over my head. A glance to the left? I’m looking down, and I can barely see the tip of the giant black spire over the roofs. And all around me, creatures that I thought existed only in the pages of fiction went about their daily routine. It was...surreal, amazing, and somewhat terrifying all at the same time.”

“Then what happened?”

“I found a table, and started to negotiate….”

The pile of Equestrian coinage clattered noisily against the table. Skitch shook the bag a few more times, making sure that every last one of the five hundred bit purse was laid out on the stall. Pushing them forward with a hoof, she cast a furtive glance up at the towering figure that loomed behind the opulently decorated stall.

A blue hand the size of her head reached forward, plucking one of the coins up with a surprising grace. A rumbling hum of consideration rose from his barrel like chest, small, round, dark eyes considering the item before him. The skin of his oblong forehead wrinkled around a pair of circular blue gems that had been set into the flesh. Running a finger over the smiling profile of Celestia that marked the gold piece, his free hand slowly caressed the ornate golden head of a finely constructed cane that matched the opulent red and green robes. Skitch turned her gaze away from the mercane as it considered, well aware of the other eyes upon her in the marketplace.

The heavily armored halfling by the the entrance street, made her the most nervous. The highly polished armor and grim expression probably meant he was a member of the Harmonium-

“Question.” Flash’s voice interrupted the story, complete with a raised hoof like they were in a school room. “What’s a halfling? And the Harmonium?”

Frowning slightly, Skitch mentally chided herself for falling into the obvious trap of just assuming that they’d know what she’d be talking about. Different cultural reference points, after all.

“Halflings...well, they’re a bipedal race, kind of like minotaurs, but sans the fur, cept on top of the head. They look a lot like my old race, humans, actually. Though while our average height is between five and a half to six feet,” she motioned to her own back, “a halfling’s average height isn’t much taller than our withers.”

“Related then?” Quartz questioned, folding her paws on the table. “There are many subspecies and bloodlines of diamond dogs, yet we are all dogs.”

“Truthfully? I couldn’t say.” Skitch shrugged. “When you start getting into the realms of fantasy universes with gods and pantheons, why two different species look so similar...well, that question gets tricky really quickly.”

“What are they like?” Flash interjected, tilting his head slightly. “Halflings, I mean.”

“The nature of their culture varies a lot, depending on what nation or reality they’re in. But if there’s one general rule that seems to hold true is that they tend to be very family and community focused. Don’t think they’d be out of place in a small town like Ponyville, really.”

The next question came from Glittering. “And the Harmonium? They sound friendly enough.”

“What, because they have ‘harmony’ in the name?” Skitch snorted. “That word doesn’t always have the same context outside this planet than on it. The Harmonium…,” she sighed. “I guess that the general idea of them is similar to what Celestia espouses. Everyone working together, allowing peace to reign and prosperity to flourish. The difference is that the Harmonium’s way is the only way. The golden age will only begin when everyone, everywhere, agrees with them. And if you don't agree? Then you'll be beaten into compliance. Which is why they forced their way into being the guard of Sigil. Anyway, may I continue?”

And with a wave from Flash’s hoof, she did.

“Half.”

The mercane’s voice didn’t cut through the air, but her mind. She jumped at the telepathic address, turning to face the interdimensional trader. It was something she was expecting but it remained unnerving, all the same.

“Pardon?”

Again, a raised hoof interrupted the story.

“What’s a mercane?”

The answer came easier this time, Skitch falling back to old GM skills. “They’re big, blue interdimensional traders. Like humans and halflings, they’re bipedal but they tower over my old race, topping in at about twelve feet tall.” Chuckling, she leaned back in her chair some, “The legends about what the mercane can do are pretty in depth. Supposedly, they can get you anything.”

“Anything?”

“Anything. You just got to be able to pay, and their rates aren’t cheap. They’re also really shrewd when it comes to negotiation. They can talk the hind legs off a donkey. But, they’re also very above board, which is why I went to one.”

“Alright, keep going.”

Nodding, Skitch once again effected a clipped accent and deeper tone of voice that she used to relay the words of the mercane.

“I will give you half in unmarked gold and gems for your travels. Enough to barter with, and avoid the questions of your mintage.” He finished by waving the coin at her, dropping it back in the pile.

Banging her hoof on the table, Skitch fired back. “It’s coinage from a realm that’s never had contact with the mercane before. Even trade.”

The things fish like lips parted in wide smile, wrinkling its fold like nose, “This is not an unknown thing for us. Seventy five.”

Opening her mouth to object, Skitch instead let loose a startled yelp at the sensation of something heavy, but padded being placed on the back of her neck.

“What the hell?”

Twisting about, a sinking sensation set into her stomach. The hardhead was there, bit in hand, intent evident. He was backed up by a man who fit the almost textbook definition of “shady”. Dressed in dark leather armor- complete with feature obscuring hood- his mustache and goatee were trimmed within an inch of their life. He really needed to be off tying someone to some railroad tracks.

“Please stop resisting,” the hardhead drawled, more bored than anything else. “I’m returning you to your owner.”

“Very naughty pony, running away,” the shady guy smiled through needle like teeth. “You need to pull the cart.”

Said cart was full of glass jars that were in turn full of….something. It was green and it sloshed which, considering her location, could be any collection of horrible things.

So, she fixed the guard with her best steely glare, “I’m not going anywhere. This man doesn’t own me.”

The guard blinked back, a distinct lack of comprehension etched on the halfling’s face. He glanced back at the cloaked man, rubbing at the back of his neck, “He says you are.”

The bit was shoved forward. Skitch scrambled back, banging into the mercane’s table. A shower of coins spilled over her head and clattered to the ground which only served to get her dander up.

She stepped forward again, grabbing the bit with her magic, “I do not belong to this man! Or does the fact I can talk mean nothing to you?”

“Lots of things can talk in Sigil.”

The logic there was hard to ignore. The infinite and bizarre nature of the Outer Planes made something like a talking pony only so strange. Still, there was more than one way to crack a hardhead.

“So, you saw his bill of sale, right?”

The halfling- who had been in the process of presenting the bit again- paused, glancing towards the cloaked man. “Show it again. If he really is my owner, surely he can prove it with all of the proper paperwork. Especially to such a fine, upstanding member of the Harmonium such as yourself.”

With a flourish and a victorious smile the cloaked man presented a single sheet of battered looking paper. Ignoring the Harmonium officer for a moment, Skitch snatched it out of his grip with her own flourish of magic.

“You can’t be serious!” She glowered. “This is obviously fake!”

“No it isn’t! Swear on me mum’s life!”

“You misspelled unicorn,” Skitch pointed out. “It’s not u-n-i-c-r-o-n. That’s something else entirely. How can you even begin to believe this?” she asked, turning to face the hardhead.

“You don’t look like any normal unicorn,” he responded with a shrug. “I can buy it.”

“Ugh! Look, I demand to see your supervisor! I am not going to let him walk away with me with a shoddy, half formed ‘bill of sale’!”

The momentum shifted, the cloaked man suddenly looking quite nervous. His stance shifted just as quickly, taking a half step backwards with raised hands. “Now,” he quickly began. “I don’t see why we have to-”

Skitch had him now. Pushing away from the table, she approached the cloaked gentleman with a few angry hoof stomps. “You,” she declared, putting a good deal of emphasis into the word. “Are the one who made the accusations about me! So, back up your papers or get lost!”

The shadowy gentleman’s lips thinned, a mighty pout of frustration washing over him. Without another word, he spun on his heels, grabbed the handles of his cart and stormed off through the shifting throngs of Sigil’s citizenry. Watching him go, Skitch didn’t take his eyes off his retreating back until he was completely out of sight. Situation resolved, the hardhead wandered back to his post, leaving her to her negotiations.

With a smirk, she turned back to the Mercane, “So...even value then?”

“That really worked?” Flash blinked.

Skitch took another gulp of coffee, “Yup. Scamming a street level guard is one thing. But trying to slip stuff past the Harmonium higher ups? Na. You do not mess with the Harmonium. Like I said before, they are a group of hammers that view every last problem in their universe as a nail.” Frowning slightly, she shrugged, “A few other things happened while I was in Sigil that...I don’t really want to go into right now. The upshot of it all though was that I came to the decision, that if I couldn’t find a way back to my world, that I’d come back to Equestria. It’s...safe here. And I have friends. Wouldn’t have to start over again.”

Glittering’s soft paw closed around one of her fetlocks, giving it a soft squeeze. “Starting over is never easy,” she admitted. “We dogs know that better than most, I think. But as hard as things are, you can’t stop fighting for a new life.”

Skitch bolted up, slamming a hoof on the table. “I have no intention to! I already had one home ripped away from me,” she growled. “I won’t allow Riche and his producer friends to drive me out of my new one!”

Flash shook his head, but was unable to keep the bemused smile off his face. “Have a plan to do that then?”

Sighing, Skitch glanced out the window. The sun had fully risen above the Manehatten skyline, casting the whole thing in silhouette. Individual golden rays peeked between the buildings, occasionally illuminating a pegasus or two that was on his or her way to work. How many of them had any clue about what kind of knives were being drawn in the world of theatre? How many would actually care. Just like in Chicago and the non-ponified Manhattan, everyone had their own problems to worry about.

“I’m not sure yet. But...if we’re going to save anypony’s career, we can’t hide behind pancakes. Let’s get to the theatre and see what we can think of.”

Skitch clatted up the short flight of steps to the backstage, head down. Flash and Glittering rattled the stairs after, having followed from the alley. Her mind continued to chew on the problem. Following Quill’s script wasn’t going to let them get out of this. That much was painfully obvious in the light of day, and the hangover. Now, to work around that-

“Skitchy!”

A Pinkie Pie shaped blur engulfed her at the door, “There you are!”

Patting the fluffy, curly mane of her friend, Skitch did feel a little bit better. Rarity sauntered their way, her expression thoughtful. An almost mischievous light danced in her brilliant blue eyes. A fact that Skitch was quite sure she would pay for later.

“Well,” The fashionista began with a nod towards Flash Sentry. “All arriving together I see. Somehow, I suspected that when she didn’t come back to the hotel last night.”

“She slept at my place,” Flash began, only to quickly amend the statement when Rarity’s eyebrow arched skyward. “Only slept. That’s it. Sleeping.”

“Alcohol remains my bane,” Skitch admitted.

Pinkie was patting her on the head now, “Aww. It’s okay Skitchy. It can’t hurt you here.”

“....Thanks Pinkie.”

The near constant smile that Pinkie wore on her muzzle grew wider, a gleam settling into her eyes. It was a manic energy that Skitch had come to associate with an imminent party or Pinkie- “Oh! Skitchy! We had an idea!”

-having an idea.

Skitch, through a supreme exertion of will, resisted the urge to giggle at being correct. “Lay it on me then, Pinks.”

“We do a different play!” She beamed, as if this was the most obvious thought in the world.

“But, they won’t-” Skitch began, only to be cut off by Rarity.

“What she means, darling, is that we do another play behind their back. Pretend to do that dreadful,” she emphasized that word with an angry shake of her head and flip of her mane, “production of theirs. But then we work on a different one behind their back.”

“Go off book?” Flash blinked. “Do you really think that’s a good idea?”

Rarity turned her attention towards the pegasus. “Everyone’s reputation is already at risk. If Princess Cadance comes and finds a production that she actually enjoys, however, it will go a long way towards avoiding that fate.”

Skitch evaluated the strategy. Rarity had a point. If they made something that the princess liked and that the ponies of Manehatten liked, then Riche could rant and rave all he wanted. Of course the counter argument to that was easy to see. If they got caught on the way, Riche and the Flim-Flam brothers could just shut things down. Producers controlled the money, after all.

Pinkie beamed. “What do you think Skitchy?”

Thinking for a few moments more, Skitch shrugged. “It’s a better option than going down in flames with what we got. Let’s get everyone together and let them know.”

In short enough order, cast and crew were gathered amongst the seats of the auditorium all eyes fixed on Skitch. She sat before the orchestra pit, a sense of nervousness settling over the unicorn again with so many eyes on her. Running a hoof through her mane, she took a deep calming breath.

“So, I know that everyone,” she began, “is worried about their careers right now.”

There was a general murmur of agreement as Spring Fields stood up. Giving her mane a casual flick she shot a glare right back at Skitch. “And what are you going to do about it? Besides try to control our minds?”

Skitch groaned, “For the love of-. Look, we’re going to do a different production behind their back. I figure that it’s the best chance for all of us to get out of this. At the very least, if this explodes in our faces, you’ll all have what we call plausible deniability. Just blame it on evil human mind control.”

She ended that sentence with an angry glare back Spring Fields’ way. The response seemed to throw her indignation off track. Sputtering a few times, she sank back into her seat, Marigold raising a hoof to throw out his own question.

“Assuming that we’d be for this, what kind of production did you have in mind? Most of the sets and costumes are half done already. A badly done play could cause just as much of a furor.”

“Hmm,” Skitch frowned, rubbing her chin. “I suppose I can use my illusions to fill the gap on our opening night. Though we need something that could use most of what we’ve got, when we’re working to fix a story from underneath the producers and a crazy writer.”

There would be a great deal of furor if the production slighted Cadance, so moving away from a historical based piece seemed like the most obvious answer. Doing something science fiction would probably be a little to labor intensive and fantasy seemed a bit...mundane for Equestria. But….

“Maybe something about putting on a play? That’s something we could change quickly so we could convince Quill and the producers that we’re still working on that god awful story trying to lionize a crazy monster. Which means we’ll have to use the fascist Sombra stuff, but defuse it maybe? Maybe a comedy, but how to handle...the...Producers!

“Ha ha!” She crowed, clapping her hooves together. “I know exactly what we’re going to do! We’re going to do The Producers!”

That declaration was met with a sea of blank faces. Coughing slightly, Rarity raised her own hoof. “Darling. None of us know what that is.”

“Oh, right. She blinked. “It’s a movie that was done back on my planet. It’s basically about a producer of plays who's struggling to make any money off of them. He’s told by an accountant that it would be possible to make more money on a flop than a hit. Shenanigans ensue from there. It’s a total classic! And since the original its set on the earth version of Manehatten we can use contemporary fashion and save some work on costumes.”

“Umm, excuse me!”

Suri had leapt to her hooves somehow looking both incensed and pouty at the same time. “How am I supposed to show off my design talent doing a bunch of normal wear! These Crystal Empire dresses were totally going to be my crowning achievement.”

Twisting about in her seat, Rarity regarded the other fashionista with a critical eye. “There is plenty to show off with regular fashion my dear. Be confident and let your work speak for itself!”

“Besides,” Skitch added, “we’ll still need your stuff for the big ‘Springtime for Sombra’ number...though they might need more glitter and sparkles.”

Suri huffed, flopping back to her seat, though her pouting didn’t give Skitch much faith that she was going to let it at that. The rest of the cast and crew weren’t looking all that confident either. Muted mutters and whispers passed between the ponies, that she was only able to catch bits and pieces of.

“Could we-”

“- behind their back?”

“- play from earth might be good on my resume.”

“I just dunno.”

Even Flash and Glittering didn’t look entirely convinced as both were frowning slightly in their seats. Only Rarity and Pinkie seemed to be ready and willing to go, which- considering it was their idea- didn’t surprise her much.

“I’ll be the first to admit,” she began with a stomp of her hoof, “that this is risky. And I can’t ignore the simple fact that you’re all stuck in the firing line because of me. If I wasn’t here Nouveau Riche would be off...kicking puppies or something, I suppose.

But we can’t just roll over. My home, your careers and reputations? We all went through our own struggles to get them. If we aren’t willing to take a chance and fight for what we want, then we’re going to be walked over.” Pausing for a moment, she bit her lip before continuing, “I can’t promise you success if we do this my way...only a fighting chance. Are you all in?”

A round of glances passed between the theatre crew again, before Marigold sighed. “Sure kid,” he shrugged. “I guess we do it your way.”

“Count me in.” Flash added. “At least this way, if we fail, we’ll fail doing something that doesn’t make me feel dirty.”

“Hmmph,” Spring Fields pouted. “I suppose I’ll go along with this.”

With the two leads agreeing to the proposal, the rest of the cast and crew began to fall into line as well as another round of murmurs, this one more positive, raced through the room.

Feeling a bit more positive now, Skitch nodded to the assembled ponies. “Right then! Pinkie? Can you keep an eye out? Let us know if anypony is coming?”

“Oki-doki-loki!” She grinned, bouncing towards the back door.

“Rarity,” she began, turning her attention towards the fashionista, “can you go over the costumes and our supplies with Suri and Coco? See what we can reuse, if anything?”

“Of course, darling.”

“All our actors? Pair off and keep working through your lines on Quill’s production. For now, we need keep up appearances. Though,” tapping her chin she considered the task before her, “anypony know where I can get a quill? And paper? Lots and lots of paper.”

Meanwhile, halfway across the city, Fleur de Lis was taking a jaunty stroll through Manehatten’s Central Park. To anypony that might have been observing her this bright and sunny day it would have seemed a completely mundane trip.

Having left one of the many upscale fashion shops that lined the east side of the sprawling slice of nature with a brand new scarf to her name, she had taken a winding path through the twisting park paths. She paused only once more, this time at a street vendor where a shiny gold bit was exchanged for a bag of honey glazed, roasted chestnuts. Her treasure bobbing through the air beside her, Fleur took another one of the branching paths, winding her way towards one of the many statues that were scattered through the grounds.

The statue of Starswirl the Bearded sat in the middle of a large cobblestone circle. It in turn was surrounded by many park benches set back to back for ponies to take a load off their hooves. Picking one at random, she lowered herself into a seat and began to munch on her treats.

Mmm. A little sweet, a little salty and just the right amount of crunch, the model mused. Canterlot may have the society, but I suppose Manehatten still has it beat when it comes to street food.

She had gotten almost to the bottom of the bag when she became aware of another pony sitting down behind her. The familiar crinkle-rustle of a newspaper being unfolded reached her ears, the mysterious pony sniffing a few times. Fleur casually tossed another roasted chestnut into her mouth, twisting slightly to regard the visitor.

The pale blue stallion, whose white mane was going noticeably bald on top had the morning edition of The Equestrian Weekly open to the international section. With a slight cough and matching shake of the paper, he made a comment.

“I saw a mockingbird in the park.”

Fleur raised an eyebrow.

“Then you say ‘What color’s the mockingbird?’.” The stallion declared.

“I am not doing the stupid bird thing.”

With a huff, the mystery pony dropped the newspaper, twisting to glare over the top of his thick black glasses. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re really bad at this.”

“Turn back around and play it cool,” Fleur sighed. “You’re just the kind of pony to overthink things.”

Up went the international section again. “Fine. It’s your dime, crown. What can I do for you?”

Rolling her eyes at the monicker Fleur quickly moved to the heart of the matter. “I want you to spread the word. It’s open season on Nouveau Riche’s banks. I need stock sold, money stolen...everything to shake the company up.”

“I see...is there a bit of pay for this bout of monkeywrenching?”

“Whatever you can take, plus a fee, depending on how much damage is done. Open season is open season.”

“Hmm. Your proposal both intrigues and fascinates me.”

A smile played across Fleur’s muzzle. “Really now?”

“A chance to engage in the acquisition of the lucre that drives us all onwards and to stick it to the institutions that bind noble ponies in chains?” He emphasized that last point with a flourish of his hoof. “This particular operation will be a delight!”

“Very good.”

Carefully plucking a folded up piece of paper from her mane, she floated it over to her contact. “These,” she explained, “are the ponies that I will need at least some of the stock to wind up in the hooves of. I am sure that you and your friends will be able to provide?”

“We would be delighted to.”

“Fleur?”

Had she been a little more high strung, Fleur may have cursed out loud at the sound of the chief bastard’s voice coming from just down the path. Instead, she calmly turned her head to take in the industrialist. A charming smile, honed from years of the great social game, instantly sprung into place as he drew close.

“Riche! Good morning. And how are you this fine day?”

Riche stared back with a quizzical gaze. “I’m surprised to see you in Manehatten. What are you doing here? And who’s this?”

While her face remained a pleasant mask, Fleur’s mind was racing to come up with an explanation. The distant relative ploy was far too easy to check-

“I’m her financial advisor. Haberdasher. Dashing Haberdasher.” Her contact beamed, getting to his hooves, “And you are the legendary Nouveau Riche! I must say, you handle your banks with the skill of a masterful conductor! My clients have enjoyed quite fat returns.”

Riche wrinkled his snout, taking in the self proclaimed Haberdasher, and his cutie-mark of two interlocked puzzle pieces. “You’re a financial planner? With that name and mark?”

Dashing’s demeanour changed in an instant. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” he snorted with clear derision. Not all of us are so blessed with the serendipity of having name, mark and job lineup like they were created at the tip of a writer’s pen! I'll have you know that I know everything about your business good sir!”

It took every bit of her resolve for Fleur to not slam her hoof against her forehead at that. For his part, Riche stared at the pony in shock before looking towards Fleur with a raised eyebrow and cocked head that questioned said pony’s sanity.

“So, you took a train all the way to Manehatten to meet a financial advisor?” he eventually managed to choke out. “Why are you in the park then?”

“Oh. I like to have my meetings in aesthetically pleasing locations. It helps stimulate the mind.”

“He is quite eccentric,” Fleur hurriedly added, “but quite brilliant. And a girl needs something to retire on when she can’t model anymore.” Her eyes narrowed slightly, a thought suddenly popping into her own head, “Though, that being said, what are you doing in the park?”

Glowering, Riche gave a resigned shrug. “Morning walk. Supposed to be watching my blood pressure.”

“Oh well,” Fleur smiled sweetly, “you should probably get to that. You need to watch your health.”

“Hmmph. Well,” his eyes narrowed, “enjoy your meeting, I suppose.”

“Yes, I think I will.”

“Okay then.”

With that Riche trotted off through the park, leaving Fleur and Haberdasher alone. A few more moments ticked by before Dashing asked the obvious question.

“Think that he followed you here?”

“Maybe...I did some shopping on the way over, just to keep up appearances. Still….do you really know everything about his business?”

"Oh, I do. Just for....other reasons than investing."

"Dashing...."

“I’ll get to work.”

“What kind of play is this?”

Watching the ex-human scribble away amongst a few towers of paper, it seemed like the most pertinent question to ask.

“Movie,” Skitch-Sketch corrected with a flourish of her quill. “There is a difference, after all.”

The backstage area had been turned into Skitch’s private work area, the curtains drawn so that she could keep an eye on those running lines.

“Fine. Movie. Tell me what it’s all about. That was a pretty vague description.”

“Well, the whole thing begins with Max Bialystock, a washed-up aging Broadway producer. He basically ekes out a living by romancing very wealthy old women in exchange for money for his next play.” She tapped her chin with the quill, “Marigold will get that role. He’s got the right look for it.

“Anyway, into this enters Leopold “Leo” Bloom an accountant who’s come to do Max’s books. He discovers that on his last play, Max oversold the number of shares in the play and wound up with a 2,000$ more on the books than he should have. Not sure who’s going to be doing that yet….”

“So far, this is sounding kind of boring.”

“Things get more interesting from here on out. Max realizes that if one were to really push it, one could make more from a flop, from a hit. So he seeks out the worst play he could find.”

“Ah! I get it now,” Flash perked up, tapping his hoof off the stage. “This is one of those ‘gone horribly right’ kinds of stories isn’t it? In trying to make a failure, they end up making a success...that is ironically a failure.”

Skitch glanced up from her work, smirking. “You got it Flashy. The coda to it all is that once they go to jail they basically go back to doing the same thing...cept in prison.”

“Implying that they learned nothing?”

“Pretty much, yes,” she finished a page with a chuckle, quickly moving onto a new sheet. “I’ve watched that movie six...maybe seven times over the years. One of my all time faves.”

Raising an eyebrow, Flash picked up one of the completed pages. “Wait. These are human names.”

“Well...yeah. It was a human made movie.”

Flash’s eyebrow threatened to disappear into his mane at that. “Sooo, you’re just transcribing the original work? Flatout copying the thing?”

“....Yes?”

Flash blinked a few more times, his mouth thinning into a frown. “...Aren’t you supposed to be an artist? You’re plagiarizing!”

His comments made Skitch visibly squirm. “Hey! This isn’t exactly an ideal situation. Besides, if I could actually contact the Brooks estate and pay royalties, I wouldn’t be stuck in Equestria in the first place!”

Sighing, Flash rubbed his forehead. “Okay. That, I’d be willing to forgive you.” The unicorn did have a point there, after all. “But you’re taking the lazy way out here! Ponies are already a little weary about humans in general. You can’t just drop a work in un-edited and expect things to go smoothly.”

A very deep pout settled on Skitch’s features. Sitting up, she crossed her forelegs and shot her own venomous glance back Flash’s way. “So, what, you want me to rewrite the whole of The Producers? We open at the end of the week as is.”

“And,” he evenly answered back, “we are already going to have to work nights if we’re going to be pretending to run lines on the original play during the day.” Taking a seat across from Skitch, he casually slid one of the stacks of paper over to himself. “Besides, I’ll help. Not like Quill gave me much music to write in his sweeping historical epic.”

The pout gave way to soft smile. “Thanks, Flash.”

“Only one request. Can we make it a musical?”

Skitch looked half ready to groan as she rolled her eyes, but the sound of hooves approaching from stage right interrupted that. Rarity and Coco approached, the former with a clipboard she had acquired from someplace backstage.

“We’ve finished taking an inventory. The current outfits just won’t work for something contemporary I’m afraid. Far too...outlandish. But I did find a collection of outfits from an old gangster themed production in the back. A little bit of well placed alterations and they’ll be exactly what you’re looking for!”

“Okay then.” Skitch nodded. “I suppose we can make that work.”

“Skitchy!”

There was an explosion of sheets of paper as the pink blur that was Pinkie Pie rushed to Skitch’s side. Throwing a leg around her neck, she cast the other back towards stage right, where the back entrance sat.

“I think Quilly is here!”

Skitch, then everypony else’s eyes turned to follow Pinkie’s outstretched leg. The unicorn that was trotting their way was the color of dark grey stone that, along with the slight curve in his horn, marked him as the descendant of King Sombra. Well, either that or his horrifically smug expression that he wore almost like a glove. A brown gatsby cap was perched atop his short cropped white mane, while a matching ascot was tied around his neck. A wide grin split his face as he approached.

“So,” he addressed Skitch, the smile never leaving his muzzle, “you’re the pony who’s helping bring my vision to life.”

Author's Note

This chapter took me a little bit of time to get done, but I'm rather happy with how it turned out.

Dipping back into that two month time period before Skitch returned to Equestria, we can see some of what made her decide to come back in the first place. Places like Sigil always sound cool until a tiefling almost steals you into a life of bondage.

Historians remain somewhat divided on King Sombra's family, what they knew about the monarch's increasingly tyrannical outlook, and when they knew it. What is known, is that his wife (Diamond Jubilee) took his first son and daughter (Polished Onyx and Rosey Quartz respectively) south to Equestria two weeks before the vanishing of the Empire. The fate of the youngest daughter, Nyx, remains unknown but it is assumed that she wasn't able to rendezvous with her parents and vanished with her father and the rest of the Crystal Empire.