Minuette, Part II: Mummies, Tentacles, and Shit

by Samey90

Rating: mature
Tags: Profanity, Adventure, Violence, Sex, DJ P0N-3, Daring Do, Narcotics, Lyra, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Colgate, Dark, Marble Pie, Comedy
Length: 144009

After suddenly becoming rich, Minuette decides to invest her money wisely. Delivery services company – yeah, that sounds good enough. Nothing can go wrong with that...

An adventurer... Yeah, that sounds proud. Totally not like "guy who machetes their way through the jungle while mosquitoes bite their ass". You go on an adventure, you want to find a treasure, you need lots of stuff to be transported to some Celestia-damned hole... Well, here's where you'll need me.

My name is Minuette. I swear, I only wanted to live a calm life, with occasional hint of adventure. Now I'm fighting mummies, zombies, tentacles, eldritch abominations, mercenaries from Manegascar, and bill collectors. And it's all Vinyl's fault. Again.

Pre-read by Bootsy Slickmane
Russian translation by repitter:

🇺🇦Ponyfiction🇺🇦

🇺🇦GoogleDocs🇺🇦

Published 2015-03-02 23:00:02 UTC
Last updated 2017-04-15 17:13:39 UTC

I’m not gonna tell my grandkids that I teamed up with Daring Do only to find a golden toilet plunger.

Threats don’t worry me at all.

Seriously, if they did, I’d be buried in the desert outside Las Pegasus. Judging by the fact that I’m talking to you, you can figure it out.

Funny thing, Bacio della Morte, currently jailed ex-boss of Las Pegasus mafia, once tried to send an assassin to kill me. All he achieved was proving that you can’t spell “assassin” without “ass”.

After what I just said you won’t be surprised by learning that I’m currently preparing Little Cadance for her longest flight so far. Additional fuel tanks, checking the engine, cleaning the interior and straightening everything – this will take a while. The girl is also getting a bit heavy, with all the stuff Daring Do started to bring here. I wish we already had Hot Coco.

Speaking of her, Hot Coco will soon start tests. I take a look at it while standing on the wing of Little Cadance. It now has more of its shell. Vinyl is painting something on it, while Cherry Berry is checking something inside.

“Excuse me!”

“Da– I mean, Moose Kiss?” I ask, seeing a disguised pony. “I told you not to come here...”

At least she’s not wearing a dark cloak. But still, a suit, sunglasses, and a fake beard are not what I’d call a good disguise. Silver Spanner, one of our mechanics, already looks at her askew while pretending to work.

“I just wanted to see the progress,” Daring Do replies, looking at Little Cadance. “How long will the journey last?”

“You could’ve sent Lyra,” I say. “She’d look less suspicious here.” I lower my voice to a whisper. “My workers probably think you’re a bill collector. Last time one came here, they tried to drown him in the outhouse. Just saying.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Daring Do trots to the plane and looks inside.

“By the way,” I say. “I checked how far it is from Ponyville to Maneaus. Hot Coco would reach it and refuel only once, but Little Cadance... At least six landings. And the last place we can buy fuel is in the Badlands. Later we’ll have to carry it with us. Considering the fact that Little Cadance’s maximal cargo capacity is a bit less that two tons...”

“Not much,” Daring Do mutters. “Me, Lyra, crew of three...”

“That’s why I wanted to wait for Hot Coco,” I say. “It’s bigger, faster, more comfortable, and can land on water.”

“If you could make it faster...” Daring Do mutters. “I see that it’s almost ready.”

“Ready, but not tested,” I say, pointing at Cherry Berry who just emerged from the plane’s guts. “Would you trust her with your life?”

“Okay, I get it,” Daring Do mutters, watching Cherry knocking at each propeller tip three times with her left hoof and two times with the right one. “But we really need to hurry. You said they already talked to you...”

“Don’t worry,” I say. “If we can’t fly to Maneaus, they probably can’t either. They’re either going there by ship or they took a train to the Badlands and are going to go through the desert and the jungle by hoof. Which would be insane.”

“Or they’re already there.” Daring sighs. “It runs on kerosene, right? They have kerosene in the villages on the way, you know.”

“Well...” I mutter. Of course, we can go stealing kerosene from ponies’ lamps. If we get through the desert, we’ll have a lot of settlements on our way. The only problem is finding a place to land and that’s basically why Hot Coco will be a flying boat.

“I’ll cover all the expenses.”

“That thing you’re after is really precious, isn’t it?” I ask. “Or dangerous.”

“Both, actually.” Daring Do looks around. I don’t know why she worries. Nopony except of her wears an idiotic disguise, so we’re safe.

“Just great...” I mutter. I’m not afraid of old, dangerous artifacts. I just wish she told me what it is. I’m not gonna tell my grandkids that I teamed up with Daring Do only to find a golden toilet plunger.

“I have to go,” Daring Do says. “I’ll send Lyra here later.”

“Sure, whatever,” I say, thinking about the additional fuel tanks and planning our route. If we do manage to find fuel... I need to get some new map and check it for towns.

“Minuette!” Vinyl exclaims, turning away from something that looks like the bigger, colourful version of the sketch of Coco she showed us on my birthday. “I need to ask you something...”

“No,” I say, glaring at her angrily.

“Can I go with you?” Vinyl makes puppy eyes. “Please?”

“I said no.” I walk out of Vinyl’s zone of cuteness proximity. It doesn’t really work since Vinyl kinda stopped being cute after hitting puberty, but I still rather not be there when she tries.

“And who will save your ass?” Vinyl asks. “I know, Daring Do is with you and all... But listen...” She leans closer to me. “There’s a lot of weird shit outside Equestria.” She waves her hoof around. “And who knows more about weird shit than me?”

“Leave your CV in my office,” I reply, furrowing my eyebrows. “We’ll call you back.”

“Okay!” Vinyl walks away. Or rather jumps like Pinkie Pie when she is excited. Some ponies never change, really.

Speaking of ponies, it seems that I’ll have another problem. From the shadows in the corner of the hangar emerges a little filly, who is generally one-third of hatred, one-third of contempt, and one-third of manipulativeness.

You know, sometimes I think that Berry Punch had a short, yet quite intense relationship with a chihuahua.

“Hello,” Ruby says, staring at me with indifferent expression. “I’m looking for Dinky.”

“I haven’t seen her here,” I reply. “And we didn’t have any serious accidents, so she’s probably not here.”

Ruby shrugs. “That’s not proof.”

“How about Sparkler?” I ask. “She should be taking care of you, shouldn’t she?”

“She’s looking for me and Dinky. Or rather, she’s currently looking for her ass.” Ruby sighs.

“Don’t use such words. Your mom is always mad at me when she hears it.”

Really. When Berry heard Ruby calling some colt “motherfucking cuntnugget”, she went to me, asking why did I spoil her daughter. I replied quoting some of her best drunken rants. She didn’t want to talk to me for a week.

“Anyway, I have a business,” Ruby mutters.

“If you want to go with us, ask your mother,” I reply dryly.

Ruby looks me directly in the eyes. It’s kinda uncanny – on one hand, she’s a cute little filly, but when you stare long enough, you can see the abyss, and hear the screaming ponies nailed to the trees as demons were burning them with hot iron. “That was low,” Ruby says and walks away. I’ll sleep with one eye open tonight.

I walk out of the hangar and watch as one of our helicopters lands gently on the airstrip. It’s easy to guess who was piloting it – most of our pilots drop heavily on the ground without any style or a single thought about the costs of repairs. Inkie is different – when she pilots a helicopter, it barely touches the grass upon landing.

“Hi, Inkie,” I say, trotting to her. “How was Fillydelphia?”

“Good,” Inkie replies, stretching her hind legs. Few hours of pedalling is always tiring, though I guess no more than few hours of flapping wings for a pegasus. “They paid.”

“Without any, umm... suggestions?” I ask. Good client is hard to find. You wouldn’t believe how hard.

“Nope. They took the package and gave me money.” Inkie gives me bits and we walk down the airstrip while Silver Spanner and Hexie pull the helicopter to the hangar. On the other side, another helicopter starts – Apple Dumpling goes to Hollow Shades with a few crates of apples.

“Let’s get that to the safe,” I say, levitating the bits and heading to the office. Inkie follows me there, talking about Fillydelphia. Apparently the guy we sent a dozen of chairs is a good client.

Berry Punch, luckily sober, is sitting at the reception desk, talking to another of our mechanics, Mjölna, a coffee-coloured mare who happens to be our electrician. Dinky and Ruby are sitting in the corner, playing draughts. They use two different kinds of screws as pieces. I hope they don’t end up sticking them in each other’s eyes.

“Hello, Berry,” I say, walking to the safe. You know, I once accidentally cracked it open, forgetting that I know the code. “How’s work?”

“Mjölna says that we may have a power outage soon,” Berry replies. “Also, Bitta Blues didn’t want to fly Number Thirteen.”

“Tell Bitta that if she wants to work here, she must get herself together. Helicopter Thirteen isn’t cursed in any way. Not at all.” I sigh. What the hell is wrong with those ponies? This helicopter is perfectly okay. There are legends that it attracts lightnings or that it got rammed by pegasi a few times, but they’re not true.

Okay, the only bad thing that happened to it was when three fillies stole it, trying to get flying cutie marks. After a while, they crashed into Berry’s house, making a big hole in the roof. The helicopter was only slightly battered and one of the fillies soiled her seat. I won’t tell you which one, but I can tell you that her sister made us a new, fabulous upholstery. The other filly repaired Berry’s roof later, so nothing really bad happened.

“Also, what’s going on with that power outage?” I ask Mjölna.

“The wiring is old,” Mjölna replies. “The lights in the hangar use a lot of energy and may overload the whole network, causing fuses to fail. Also, I discovered that someone connected an additional wire to our network. I don’t know where it leads.”

“I think I know,” I reply. “Berry, if you meet Vinyl, tell her that I’ll rip her a new one. Mjölna, change all the stuff that needs changing. Now.”

“Management by perkele again?” Mjölna asks. “There may be a blackout.”

“The shorter the better,” I say. “We need to get the planes ready.”

Damn Mjölna and her insane work schedule. Or rather damn me and my insane work schedule. Mjölna quite logically deduced that the best time to turn everything off is night, when it’s dark anyway. The problem is, I was sitting in the hangar for quite a long time, trying to figure out how to repair the jammed aileron. Even Hexie went to sleep in her hammock and she usually stays awake till, like, 3 AM, making plans of taking over the world or something.

Anyway, I find myself in complete darkness. The lights in the hangar are off, the lamps outside too. I light my horn, but even then I can barely see the way to the door. Damn. I consider teleporting to my house, but it’s outside my range and teleporting more than once at a time usually makes me dizzy. Hell, I even defeated a griffon that way once.

I sigh and walk to the door. Only after walking out into the cold night, I realise how tired I am. I’ll just go to the Vinyl’s bar and teleport from there. It’s exactly eight hundred metres – as the crow flies – from my house, which is the upper limit of my teleportation. Well, I can technically teleport for over a mile, but bleeding from all the orifices isn’t fun, thank you. Definitely not worth getting home a few minutes earlier.

I walk down the path, whistling some old tune I learned in the army and jumping from time to time to keep warm. I really hope nopony sees me. Well, Inkie wouldn’t mind – she lives in Sugarcube Corner with her sister and nothing can weird her out. It is lonely away, from the fillies and all... In the Badlands at night when the changelings call... It’s sad in Frozen North, when you shit ice cubes... Away from your girl who has large cro–

I pause, hearing some noise on my right. I look there, but of course I can’t see shit. “Mjölna?” I ask. The noise starts again – I can even hear something that sounds like a curse cut short. “Who are you? Identify yourself, or they’ll find your balls in Maretonia! And then the guards will arrest your sorry ass for trespassing!”

The silence gets really suspicious. It’s not the “nopony’s there” kind of silence, but rather “somepony’s there waiting for you to walk away” kind. Time for a clever trick.

“But there’s nothing in Equestria half as lonely and drear...” I sing.

“As to stand in the bar of a pub without beer!” the voice finishes. Well, it’s not Vinyl or Cherry Berry. But they’re on a similar intellectual level. I aim my horn in the darkness and conjure a flash of bright light.

“Aargh! My eyes!” I hear as I dart forward. In the afterglow, I can see two silhouettes, cowering on the grass.

Well, victorious warriors win first and then go to war, while defeated warriors first go to war and then seek to win. Those guys didn’t even go to war yet, while I’m ready for my favourite part: intimidation.

“I will make your entrails extrails!” I exclaim. “I will fong you till your insides are out and your outsides are in!”

The first of the guys levitates something that looks like a can of petrol. I dodge it, ramming into his companions and tripping over him. The can-wielding jackass throws it at me. Ouch! My head! I stand up and charge at him. “I’m gonna rip your hippocampus from your head, motherfucker!” I yell.

Of course, I miss. After getting a can of petrol to the face, my aim is a bit off. Meanwhile, the guys realise that there’s two of them, while I’m alone. The element of surprise went to fuck itself, I’m afraid.

I roll on the grass, kicking one of them in the ribs when he runs past me. Time for another trick. After all, every war is based on deception.

“Girls!” I exclaim. “The third square! Fire at them!”

“Get down!” one of the attackers shouts.

“She’s lying,” the one who earlier complained about his eyes says. “There’s nopony here but us... Aargh!” His voice drowns in the gunshot. He collapses, yelling swears and something about salt in his ass.

I can hear the sound of reloading the shotgun. The other guy runs away into darkness upon hearing that.

“Minuette?” The voice definitely belongs to Vinyl. “Is that you?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” I reply. “Watch out, there may be more of them here...”

“What’s going on?” Vinyl emerges from the darkness, levitating a shotgun. She looks at me and the guy who clutches to his butt, muttering some nasty things about Vinyl’s mother.

“Mr. Sore Arse and his mate were trying to burn down the hangar, I think,” I reply. “I’d totally beat the crap out of them.”

“You were calling for help,” Vinyl said. “I heard you in the pub.”

“It was a trick.”

“Yeah, right,” Vinyl mutters. “I saved your ass again. Now you have to take me with you.” She looks at the guy and shrugs. “I think we need to take this guy to Redheart. Or to the guards, if you wish.”

“If I were you, I wouldn’t leave the pub,” I say. “They may try again...”

“They’re not after my pub,” Vinyl replies. “Also, our best client is there, disguised as a potted plant. Don’t you think she’s a bit paranoid?”

“Maybe...” I mutter. “Though after meeting those two, I’m not sure.”

“Right...” Vinyl aims her shotgun at our guest. “Okay, dude. Come with us or I’ll shoot you where it’ll hurt much more.”

The guy gets up and winces. “You’ll pay for that...” he mutters, rubbing his arse.

“Okay,” I say. “Tell us who to send a check to.”

“Ahu– I mean, I won’t tell you,” he replies. “I want to go to the guards. I’ll feel safer.” He gives Vinyl a nervous look. I’m actually not surprised.

I hear somepony coming to us. Vinyl raises her shotgun while I try to blind the newcomer with the light of my horn.

“It’s me, Mjölna!” The pony stops in front of us. “What’s going on? Some guy just ran past me and got tangled into old wires.”

“Is he alive?” I ask.

“Don’t worry, they aren’t connected now,” Mjölna replies. “He mentioned something about psychos shooting at him, so I figured out that he must’ve pissed off Vinyl or you, boss, so smacked him with a wrench.”

“Why did you hire her?” our prisoner asks, looking at Mjölna and raising his eyebrows.

“She’s good at deduction,” I reply. “And she thinks outside the box. We’re currently hiring, but I’m afraid you wouldn’t fit the image of the company.”

The guy sighs and slowly goes with us towards the guards station. Of course, its door is closed and the windows are dark. Guards in Ponyville think that criminals sleep at night and work from Monday to Friday, from 8 AM to 3 PM. Interestingly, they’re mostly right.

Vinyl knocks on the door. “Is there anypony there?” she asks. “I know you are! You arrested me so many times that I can’t count them!”

“Eight,” I mutter. “They arrested you eight times, usually for getting drunk and singing songs about your cunt in the middle of the night.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Vinyl replies and knocks on the door again. “Guys? We have a prisoner for you!”

The doors opens immediately. A young guard walks to us and gives us a weird look. I’m not surprised. I already got a reputation when I teamed up with Cherry Berry and we started to scare pegasi with our flying blenders. It’d never catch on, they said. Yeah, but it can carry more stuff than a pegasus, while flying just as fast.

Vinyl, of course, is known among the guards. Mjölna isn’t, but the fact that she’s with us, watching the guy who looks like he has a lot of salt in his ass automatically makes her a suspect.

“What did he do?” the guard asks.

“Trespassing,” I reply. “Also, an assault, though he wasn’t very good with that.”

“Why is he walking so funny?” the guard asks. He doesn’t even bother to invite us inside. Maybe for fear that we’d blow the station up or something.

“Long story,” Vinyl replies.

“Do you have a licence for your ‘long story’?” the guard points at the shotgun Vinyl is levitating next to her rather carelessly.

“Of course,” Vinyl says. “I passed all the psychological tests and whatnot.”

Yeah, sure. By banging the psychologist, I guess.

“Also, it’s not even mine.” Vinyl tries unsuccessfully to hide the shotgun behind her back. “It belongs to my ex.”

I hope she doesn’t mention that her ex is currently a guest of Las Pegasus Correctional Facility, where he learns about the joys of rock farming and plots a bloody revenge on us.

“Okay, nevermind,” the guards says. “We’ll take this guy.” He yawns. “Could you come tomorrow to tell us exactly what he did?”

“Sure,” I reply. “I think he had a friend. If we catch him, we’ll bring him to you too. And bring him some doctor to get salt out of his ass, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the guard replies.

You may say that the guards in this town are kinda insane, but there’s logic behind that: Ponyville is a small town and, apart from occasional visits of spirits of chaos, pony-molesting vines, and gigantic centaurs, nothing interesting happens here. The guards have to do something, or else their bosses from Canterlot will be very pissed. To bump up the statistics, they catch fillies for jaywalking, drunkards for drinking in public, Vinyl for basically anything... Sometimes they have give parking tickets to each other. Ponies in Ponyville generally like their guards, so they sometimes volunteer to spend a night in a comfortable cell and play poker with them just to support them. An actual criminal rarely appears in town, so they waste no occasion.

“So, what are we gonna do now?” Vinyl asks when we walk back to our homes.

“Sleep,” I reply. “Tomorrow, we’ve got some planning to do...”

One of the things about Vinyl’s pub I like is that she thought of a small room which, when you look at the blueprints, seemingly has no purpose. It’s in the basement, surrounded by thick walls, with a single, oaken door. The door has a few strong locks and can be hidden behind a shelf with wine bottles if needed.

You probably think that it’s a perfect place to talk business. And by business I don’t mean selling apples to a carrot vendor or selling carrots to horny fillies, but, well, business.

We’re sitting around a heavy, old table: me, Inkie, Vinyl, Lyra, Hexie, and Daring Do, who is still disguised as a potted plant. Nopony at the table is bothered by that; we’ve seen stranger things.

“So, I ordered twenty crates of Buck to the Moon whiskey,” Vinyl says. “Once they’re here, we’ll be ready to go.”

“Whiskey? Why?” Lyra asks.

“It’s a perfect cover,” I reply. “From what I know, Maneaus is a town in the middle of the jungle, inhabited mostly by natural rubber producers and ponies who work for them. Transports of luxurious goods rarely can get there, so twenty crates of whiskey is a perfect cover.”

“Exactly.” Vinyl nods. “Also, I’m buying them for forty bits per bottle. In Maneaus I’ll sell them for a hundred. Even if we find shit, we’re gonna be rich.”

“Disguised as a transport of whiskey,” Daring Do mutters, writing something in her notebook. “Perfect plot device, though I don’t know if my editor agrees for that. Kids read those books...”

“Kids would be okay with that,” I reply. “Have you ever met Ruby Pinch?”

“My publisher has a different opinion on that.” Daring Do shrugs. “Anyway, how’s the plane?”

Hexie clears her throat. “It’s almost ready. Still, even with additional fuel tanks, we’ll have to land six times to get fuel.”

“Six times?” Vinyl asks, smirking. “I wonder if I can get laid in all those places...”

“Vinyl...”

“What?” Vinyl shrugs. “I’m still pretty and young and I have some needs, not like some spinsters here...”

Interestingly, Daring Do gives her a nasty glare before I manage to do the same. Well, it shouldn’t be surprising – if I first read her books when I was ten, she must be well in her forties, I think. Hard to say, since she looks not much older than me and I guess she’d be able to break Vinyl’s leg easily, if she wanted to.

“So, we can go to Maneaus in a few days, right?” Lyra asks, seeing that her boss also thinks about doing nasty things to Vinyl’s limbs.

“Once you put your junk in Little Cadance,” I reply. “We need to stuff her with whisky, hide your luggage under the crates and we can go. Officially, Vinyl goes as a liquor vendor. Nopony knows that you’re with us.”

“Exactly,” Lyra says. “Even Bonnie thinks I went to the Crystal Empire to dig stuff from the pre-Sombran era. She even told me to bring some torture device if I find one.”

“Okay,” I say. “If that’s settled, pack your stuff, girls. We’re leaving as soon as possible.”

“Vinyl?”

“Yes?”

“You wanted to find ponies to get laid with on your way, right? Then why do you need those?”

“In case there are no ponies to get laid with.”

I put the box on the ground next to Little Cadance. “We’re not taking those. They’re too heavy.”

“Then what am I supposed to do?” Vinyl levitates another few boxes, suitcases, and bags.

“I’ll buy you a cucumber.” I sigh, watching the gear of Little Cadance. It doesn’t look like it’s going to crash under the weight of our cargo, but you never know. “Also, you don’t have to go there, really. This whole thing seems fishy.”

“I’m not gonna tell you what else seems fishy.” Vinyl looks back and sniffs the air. “Also, I’m going with you. I wanna do something adventurous again.”

“Learn calculus,” I mutter, checking the propeller. “This will be adventurous. Also, if you’re worried about sex tourism, we’re gonna visit some big towns on our way. Tijuana–”

“That reminds me.” Vinyl opens a suitcase and takes some small, pulp brochure. “Do you think Daring Do will sign it for me?”

“Shh, no one knows that she goes with us,” I mutter, taking the brochure. Daring Do Tijuana Bible – Everything is a Dildo If You’re an Adventurer. Of course. “Don’t show it to her. She’ll throw you out of the window.”

“What if I show it to her before we start?” Vinyl asks.

“She’ll drop one of those on your head,” Inkie says, walking to us with a crate of whiskey. “They’re heavy...”

“What?” Vinyl looks at the crate of whisky and then back at me. “They’re heavy and they can go, but my box can’t?”

“They’re our co–” I pause seeing Hexie trotting to us. Judging by the look on her face, we’re fucked.

“Mamy przejebane,” Hexie says in a clever attempt to use a foreign language to tell us how fucked are we exactly. Or rather it’d be clever, if any of us knew her language.

Actually, I caught a few words when we were teaching Hexie to speak Equine, but still it doesn’t solve the situation, since she literally said “we’re fucked” and I already know that.

“How big is our problem?” I ask. However, another mare walks to the hangar behind Hexie and I realise that it’ll be difficult. For starters, it’ll need subtlety.

“Hello, Raven,” I say to the Mayor Mare’s secretary. She’s generally a nice pony, but still, she works for the government.

“We need to talk,” Raven says, showing me some curious volume of forgotten lore. The title says International Shipping Rules and Regulations, so the book is probably full of some eldritch stuff that will fill me with fantastic terrors never felt before.

“What’s going on?” I ask unsurely.

“For starters, your mechanic is from Ponyland, judging by the language in which she said that you, umm... have a problem,” Raven says. “Does she have a work permit?”

“Excuse me,” Hexie says. “I have dual citizenship. From what I know, citizens of the Griffon Empire don’t need a work permit in Equestria, right?”

“You don’t look like a griffon...” Raven mutters.

“It took a lot of paperwork.”

Raven nods, apparently knowing something about the griffon’s love for bureaucracy. “So, you were living in the Griffon Empire and you moved to Equestria to work here?”

“I regret it every time I look at my medical insurance,” Hexie deadpans.

“Okay, Raven, cut the crap and tell me what’s going on,” I say. “You didn’t come here, tapping at my hangar door, with a book that is longer than everything Vinyl’s read in her entire life just to prove that my mechanic is not a griffon.”

Next to me, Inkie gives Raven a look saying, “please, don’t make her mad, or else I’ll have to beat you and I really don’t want to. Don’t worry, I’ll apologise.”

“Well...” Raven says. “We received information that you’re trying to smuggle a large transport of alcohol outside Equestria, so–”

Vinyl clears her throat. “Shouldn’t you be more concerned if we tried to smuggle something to Equestria?”

“I think so,” Raven mutters after a while.

“So, no problem.” Vinyl smirks.

“No, I don’t think so. Equestria is a member of the International Anti-Smuggling Alliance and other members would be very displeased if we let something like that happen...” Raven glares at Vinyl, who raises her sunglasses.

“But I want to sell it legally,” Vinyl says. “According to International Shipping Rules and Regulations, chapter 7, paragraph 2, I can legally sell up to twenty crates of whiskey anywhere, provided that I pay the tax while buying them, pay another tax for transporting them, and that the buyer pays tax in their country. Of course, it works only when I have licence to sell alcohol, which I have.”

“I’ll check that,” Raven says. “May I see all the documents?”

“Of course,” Vinyl replies, walking to one of the crates and grabbing some papers from it. “Here.”

Raven takes a look at the papers and blushes. “Daring Do Tijuana Bible – Everything is a Dildo If You’re an Adventurer,” she reads.

“Whoops, wrong paper,” Vinyl mutters. “It’s this one.”

Raven examines the papers for a few minutes. “Seems that we were misinformed,” she says finally. “May I keep that one?” She shows us the Tijuana Bible.

“Sure,” Vinyl replies. “I have one more. By the way, page six is kinda sticky...”

Raven doesn’t listen – she walks out of the hangar, humming some happy tune. I sigh with relief. It’s not like we have anything to hide. But I always feel like we have.

“Do you think they’ll try to send the officials to us again?” Vinyl asks.

“Nevermore,” I mutter. “How did you know those paragraphs?”

“My ex was in prison,” Vinyl replies. “He learned all the laws by heart. Mostly those about parole, but some international law also rubbed off on me.”

“Good to know,” I say and levitate a crate of whiskey. “Now, help me put that in Little Cadance.”

Vinyl levitates the crate, which squeaks suddenly. Inkie and Hexie look at each others unsurely.

“What the hell?” Vinyl mutters, shaking the crate.

“I think I know,” Inkie says and walks to the crate. “Pinchy, get out of there, or we’ll tell your mom that you’re trying to sneak on the plane...”

“Don’t call me Pinchy!” the filly yells. “And I’m going to throw a tantrum!”

“If you were going to throw a tantrum, you’d just do that,” I say calmly, levitating Ruby out of the box. “Get out or I’ll tell your mother that you’re trying to run away from home.”

Ruby tells me to go and do some nasty things to a baseball bat.

“Oh, please,” Vinyl says. “I’ve been there, kid, and I’m pretty sure Minuette did that too. Baseball bats are simply too tempting...”

“You’re all nutjobs and wankers,” Ruby mutters, walking away. “I hate you.”

Inky shakes her head. “Was I like that when I was eleven? I don’t think so.”

“No, you were just clopping to the Wonderbolts posters or watching Minuette sleeping,” Vinyl replies, smirking. “I was always wondering... She’s nothing like Berry. Who is her father?”

“Dunno, but he must’ve been the worst scum to ever walk on earth,” I say, grabbing another crate and securing it in the plane.

“I blew up my school when I was eleven,” Hexie mutters, helping us with a crate. “Those were fun times...”

“We’ve been there,” I say with a sigh. “Luckily, she’s not that skilled in making explosives.”

“Right,” Inkie says dragging the last crate into the plane and securing it with ropes and straps. “I think we can tell Lyra that we’re ready to leave tomorrow and that she can tell Dar... that is, Moose Kiss, that she can stop pretending to be a potted plant.”

“She is an armchair now,” Vinyl mutters. “It’s kinda creepy.”

“Okay.” I kick the tyre of our plane. “Tell the armchair that we’re leaving tomorrow.”

Unlike Bon Bon and her six personalities, Lyra is more or less sane. Well, sane for someone who works with a famous archaeologist, looks for remains of ancient civilisations, and thinks that a pre-Celestial tribe that made a pile of balls of their defeated enemies after a battle was awesome, but still, sane. However, when we dragged Little Cadance out of the hangar, she changed into a foal in the candy shop.

“What does it do?” she asks, pointing at an aileron.

“It’s an aileron,” I reply. “We use them to steer the plane.”

“Cool. And why does it have four wings?”

“They are actually two wings. It’s a biplane,” I say, opening the door. “Your seats are in the back.”

“I still don’t know how it flies,” Daring Do says. “Pegasi flap their wings, but this...”

“Hexie, explain this to her...” I mutter, walking into the airplane. Inkie is already in the cockpit, checking the gauges. We have a lot of fuel in additional tanks and we’re kinda heavy, but it should work.

“When the propeller turns, it generates thrust, just like your wings,” Hexie replies. “Little Cadance is a biplane because it has greater lift and smaller wingspan. Thanks to that, it’s much more maneuverable. Of course, it makes us slower, but we needed a cargo plane. We’re not racing with Rainbow Dash yet...”

“By the way, Cherry once built a flying machine with moving wings,” I say when Hexie, Vinyl, Lyra, and Daring Do sit in their places. “We called it ‘The Clockwork Bat’. Its service ceiling was about three feet, and Cherry crashed it into Berry Punch’s window, landing in the living room.”

“That’s certainly interesting,” Daring Do says, looking around nervously. Either she’s looking for spies or she’s afraid of flying, despite being a pegasus.

“Wait till you see Hot Coco,” I say. “By the way: no smoking and no flying in the plane.”

“Why?” Daring Do asks while Vinyl makes an expression of a sick puppy. “Wouldn’t it make the plane lighter?”

“Not really, since the air from your wings still pushes against the floor,” I reply. “Also, flying in a non-inertial reference frame–”

“Stop talking physics to me,” Daring Do mutters. “I’m a writer.”

“Can I be in the cockpit when we take off?” Lyra asks.

“Maybe later,” I reply. Through the windshield I see Coco, Berry Punch, and Cherry Berry walking to us. Inkie mutters something and rushes to Coco.

“We’ll start in a minute,” I say. “I’ll just say goodbye to the girls.”

The girls are trying not to look at Inkie and Coco kissing each other. Or at least Berry tries not to look. Cherry isn’t bothered by anything.

“There are only two mistakes one can make along the road to truth,” Cherry says, staring into my eyes. “Not going all the way, and not starting.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Berry mutters. Judging by her frown, she’s sober. “Take care of yourself and buy me some tequila while you’re there.”

“Sure,” I say. “I’ll catch you on the radio later. I’d rather know everything about the company.”

“I’ll be writing reports to you every day,” Berry mutters. “Where each of the guys went, what did they carry, and how much did they get paid.”

“That’ll be enough,” I say and turn to Cherry. “Inform me when you start the tests of Hot Coco, okay?”

“All aboard!” Cherry exclaims. “Flying thingy flies, radio thingy radioes.”

“That’s what I meant.” I sigh. “Okay, so... See you girls. Take care of yourself. And of Ruby.”

“You too,” Berry Punch replies.

“Let’s go, Inkie.” I trot back to the plane. Our passengers are already in their seats in the crammed cargo hold.

“... fifteen years later, they both started to fuck her daughter.” Vinyl laughs. “And each of them kept saying that she was the daughter of the other one!”

“Eww...” Lyra winces. Meanwhile, Daring Do is taking notes.

“It’s not that uncommon,” Vinyl says. “For example, I know a pair of twins...”

“Interesting,” Daring Do mutters, scribbling something in her notebook. “Did you ever think about writing an autobiography?”

“Of course.” Vinyl smirks, stretching on her seat. “I already have some notes. It’ll be called ‘DJ Pon3 – The Mare Who Wubbed You All’.”

“Mine will be called ‘Self-Made Mare,” I say. “Fasten your seatbelts. We’re taking off.” I trot to the cockpit.

Inkie is already sitting in her seat, while Hexie is staring at the blinking lights on the wall. Probably trying to make them blink in sequence or something.

“By the way,” Hexie mutters. “My autobiography will be called ‘Hexagon Nut – Without Me You’d All Be Screwed’.”

“Great.” I sit in my seat and put on my goggles. “How are the rudders?”

“Working smoothly,” Inkie replies. “The weather’s fine, slight headwind...”

“Fuel and oil levels are fine,” Hexie says. “Ignition...”

The propeller moves slightly, but nothing else happens.

Hexie hits the button again. “I said ‘ignition’, kurwa jego mać!”

The engine roars, causing the floor to vibrate slightly. Technology is a strange thing – sometimes yelling at it makes it work.

I grab the radio. “Is the runway clear?” I ask.

“Sure,” the guy from the tower replies. If I recall correctly, we hired three brothers to work in our control tower: High Frequency, Medium Frequency, and Joe. It’s probably Medium Frequency, judging by the voice.

“Brakes,” I say, pulling the handle. “Taxi speed – five kilometres per hour...”

We turn slowly and crawl towards the runway. Hexie checks the temperature of the engine and other stuff, while Inkie and I are getting ready to start.

“No pegasi or helicopters nearby,” Medium Frequency says. “You can start, boss.”

“Got it, we can start,” I mutter. “Throttle.”

The engine roars louder and we ride down the runway. Little Cadance isn’t exactly subtle when it comes to smoothness of the start, but our cargo doesn’t usually complain. Inkie pulls the stick towards herself and we watch as the buildings in front of us disappear, replaced by the blue sky. Soon, we’re circling above Ponyville, climbing at two and half thousand metres – no reasonable pegasus ever flies there and I’d rather not wipe bloody chunks from the windshield.

I push the button of the intercom. “It’s Minuette here,” I say. “We’re at two and half kilometres or eight thousand two hundred feet. Heading southwards. Next stop – Badlands Airship Base.”

The choice of our first stop was obvious. Their commander, Major Minor is my old pal from the army. We often borrow each other fuel, not to mention that I’m often the only link between the airship base in the middle of nowhere and civilisation with all its benefits, such as food, books, and cheap pornography.

“Open the cockpit door,” I say to Hexie. “Let’s see how our passengers survived the takeoff.”

The passengers are alive and well. It seems that Daring Do got a little less nervous since we finally left Ponyville. I guess the closer we are to the golden toilet plunger, the happier she’ll be.

“Then, I was with a really weird guy,” Vinyl says, while Lyra and Daring nod. “He couldn’t get hard unless I was dancing covered in oatmeal.”

“Reminds me of my editor,” Daring Do mutters. “He got hard when he saw my golden shower...”

If I was drinking something, I’d spit it on the gauges. I didn’t know Daring and I have some, umm... common interest... Well, probably that’s not the fact an author of the books for teens and pre-teens would want their fans to know.

“That thing cost millions.” Daring Do sighs. “And hiring guards to take care of it also costs a lot...”

“I know that feeling,” Vinyl says. “I bought Octavia a silver necklace once...”

“What happened to Octavia, by the way?” Inkie asks. “Haven’t seen her around for a while...”

“She’s on tour,” Vinyl replies. “We’re still together, kinda...”

“Yeah, and you’re planning to get laid in every place we visit on our way...” I mutter, staring at the ground in front of us. The green meadows are slowly replaced by hills and steppe.

“It’s an open relationship, okay?” Vinyl blushes. Or at least I think so, because I can just turn around while piloting five and half tons of duralumin.

Hexie chuckles. “You’ve been dumped, haven’t you?”

“Not exactly,” Vinyl mutters. “But yeah, I was a bit dumped.”

“It’s like being a bit pregnant,” Lyra says. “Or like being a bit normal, though I must say that Bonnie–”

“–has six personalities and some of them are a bit normal,” Vinyl interrupts. “We know that.”

I sigh, trying to focus on piloting. Luckily, Inkie is much more immune to Vinyl and Lyra’s shenanigans, so she’s actually looking at the controls. I take a look at the landscape below – there’s some village there, in the middle of the prairie.

“I know that place,” Lyra mutters. “It’s that village that used to be terrorised by a gang of cows.”

“Bulls,” Vinyl mutters. “Canter Creek, right?”

“No, it’s another village.” Lyra shrugs, stretching her muscles. “Anyway, the villagers got annoyed and the cows were never heard of again.”

“Bullshit,” I say. “Pun not intended. I’ve heard ten different versions of that story, including one in which those bulls were sold to griffons for meat, and one about Princess Twilight’s personal intervention.”

“Well,” Inkie says. “When we started the company, ponies were also saying that it’s bull... well...” she blushes and stares at the speedometer.

“Yeah.” I smile. “The same guy realised later that a plane with a crew of two is a cheaper way of transporting fifty barrels of wine from Manehattan to Las Pegasus than hiring fifty pegasi.”

“I remember the protests,” Daring Do says. “I especially liked the articles of that pegasus who was convinced that invention of a helicopter would cause pegasi to go extinct.”

“Yeah, I wrote to him that trains are around for years and earth ponies are still alive and kicking,” I mutter. “I don’t think it convinced him. I think he’s now telling everyone who wants to listen to him that kerosene causes cancer.”

“Someone should tell him about lamps,” Vinyl says, shrugging.

We slowly leave the prairie behind. I wonder what we’ll see in the desert – the stories about giant antlions are probably an exaggeration, but we can still accidentally hit a high-flying changeling. As if wiping guts of dead bugs from the plane wasn’t annoying enough.

“Hey, look!” Vinyl exclaims, watching something through the window. “A butterfly!”

I take a look. Holy crap. The “butterfly” is as big as a half of our plane. Luckily, it flies just above the ground and doesn’t look like it wants to eat our machine. Or fuck it.

“It’s a giant antlion,” Daring Do says. “The adults are harmless, but if you fell into a pit dug by a larva, it’d suck you dry.”

Vinyl purrs, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Literally,” I mutter. “Brain and everything.”

“Too bad.” Vinyl sighs.

“I see the oasis,” Inkie says. “There are some tents around it and one, two... Three balloons. Is it the base?”

“I think so,” I say, turning on the radio. “Hello? Is there anypony here?”

“Well, since we’re in Equestria, the correct term is ‘cienega’,” Daring Do says. “Oases are in Zebrica.”

“Is that the only difference?” Vinyl asks. “If so, I don’t give a damn.”

“Shut up,” I mutter, turning back to the radio. “Badlands Airship Base? 56th Bomber Squadron?”

“Affirmative,” the voice in my headphones says. “Identify yourself, or we’ll shoot you down.”

“It’s me, Minuette,” I say. “Major Minor knows me; same with all the guys getting stuff from me. I’m flying south and I need fuel.”

“It may be a problem,” my interlocutor replies. “We have guests from the intelligence. They’re checking if we’re all loyal to Celestia or some similar bullshit.”

“Damn,” I mutter. “Can we at least land here?”

“Yeah,” the soldier replies. “If anypony asks, you’re here to take the cows back to Equestria.”

“What cows?”

“Well, actually it’s a bunch of bulls. They were trying to rob some village or something. We had to remove buckshot from the ass of one of them.”

“Fuck it,” I say. “I’ll talk with the major when we land.”

We circle around the oasis, while the soldier tells us which runway we can use. As we lower, sand hits the windshield. The wires holding the wings together make alarming noises. I hate this place.

“Flaps are fine, speed is fine,” Hexie says. “Just don’t crash us into an airship...”

Thud! The whole plane shakes when the wheels hit the ground. I turn off the engine quickly – I’d rather not deal with sand inside – and push the brakes. The plane rolls to the end of the runway and stops.

“Okay.” I stand up and trot to the door. “Time to ask Major Minor what’s going on...”

I jump on the runway and walk through the clouds of dust. It’s everywhere – a thick layer covers my goggles. I can either take them off and face the bright sun or walk around blindly.

“Welcome to our base.” The voice is familiar. However, it’s not Major Minor. I haven’t heard that voice for, like...

Damn. For two years. I take off my goggles and face the “guests” from the intelligence.

“Hi, Minuette,” Flitter says, grinning widely.

I’m pretty sure we can’t expect a warm welcome here again. Pun not intended.

“What are you doing here?” I ask. The dust slowly falls and I can see Cloudchaser standing next to Flitter. They’re both wearing Equestrian Air Force uniforms – if I recognise the insignia correctly, Cloudchaser is the squadron leader while Flitter is flight lieutenant. Quite unusual for secret agents, who should keep a low profile. Or at least I think so.

Flitter and Cloudchaser look at each other. “We’re secret agents, you know,” Flitter says. “If we told you, it wouldn’t be a secret.”

“Yeah, right.” I approach them. “Let me guess: Blossomforth is hidden somewhere here, right? In an airship’s tire, knowing her.”

“In the barrel of the anti-aircraft cannon,” Cloudchaser whispers. Flitter watches as Vinyl, Inkie, Daring Do, Lyra, and Hexie walk out of the plane.

“What’s going on?” Daring Do asks. “Are those your friends?”

“Kinda,” I reply before turning back to Cloudchaser. “Okay, secret agent, cut the crap and tell me what exactly is going on here? Are you following us again?”

“Oh, come on,” Flitter says, rolling her eyes. “World doesn’t revolve around your ass, you know.”

“We’re investigating this particular airport,” Cloudchaser adds. “Their fuel and equipment keeps disappearing and the commander’s bank account is surprisingly large...”

Well, shit. Major Minor is officially an idiot who somehow managed to turn attention of authorities to himself. And remember that authorities aren’t exactly bright. In fact, I think that you need to have your brain removed and put in your ass to become an officer.

Daring Do walks to us. “I’m pretty sure we’ll be able to do something about that,” she says. “We really need to refuel and get away from here as soon as possible. We won’t be interfering with your investigation.”

“Hey, I know you!” Flitter exclaims. “Professor A.K. Yearling, Department of Archeology, University of Trottingham. What artifact of doom are you looking for this time?”

“A condom that broke when your daddy was fucking your mom,” Vinyl says, walking to us. “Who may or may not have been his sister...”

“Vinyl, have your parents ever taught you to shut the fuck up?” I ask. We’re sitting in a small shack by the oasis. The walls are made of stone and the door looks quite firm. Unfortunately, Flitter and Cloudchaser have the key.

“My dad tried, but I’ve never liked him much,” Vinyl replies. “At least since the day when he put me in a sack full of bricks and threw me into the river.” She produces a harmonica from her mane and starts to play it.

“Too bad he screwed that up,” I mutter. “At least we wouldn’t be waiting here to be court-martialed for offending an officer.”

“And what did I do?” Inkie asks. “I didn’t even tell anything.”

“Yeah, but the guard who tried to seize you probably won’t have children anymore...” Lyra says, shrugging. “Anyway, what are we going to do now? We were supposed to fly further south...”

“Don’t worry,” Daring Do says. Interestingly, she chose the highest bunk of the triple bunk bed in our cell. From what I know, it’s called “Zebrica” in prison slang – because no one wants to be there.

“We didn’t even leave Equestria and we’re already in prison!” I exclaim. “How can I not worry?”

“I’ve been there before,” Daring Do replies. “We’ll sneak out of here at night. Those bars are probably loose. Or maybe when the guard comes to give us supper, Inkie will knock them down and–”

“I’m not knocking anypony down again,” Inkie says. “I don’t like beating ponies. Or shooting them with that magical thingy.”

“You still have it?” I ask. “How?”

“They didn’t look for it.” Inkie shows the crystal gun to us. “But it’s useless here since it only targets family jewels...”

“Yeah,” I mutter. “Vinyl, stop playing that harmonica or I’ll shove it where the sun doesn’t shine!”

“I’m in prison, I have to play it,” Vinyl replies. “Or I can make you a tattoo. Maybe a plan of this place?”

I tell Vinyl a few nasty things about her mother that make Inkie and Lyra blush.

“Seriously though,” Lyra says after I’m done. “What if the guards don’t give us supper? How are we going to run away then?”

“We can bring that shack down,” Vinyl says. “They didn’t give us magic inhibitors after all.”

“The walls are magic-proof,” I say. “They had it enchanted against any spells that could bring them down.”

“How about a tunnel?”

“This hut is built on the wet sand. Once you start digging in it, it’ll collapse on you and in a hundred years one of Daring’s students will dig your arse out and put it in the museum, in a display cabinet labelled ‘Equestria’s Biggest Idiot’,” I say.

“Yeah, because sitting here and doing nothing is better,” Vinyl mutters, pulling a blanket over her head. “Are we employing the standard prison rule?”

“Which one?” Lyra asks in her naivety.

“Face the wall when you clop,” Vinyl replies, turning to face the wall.

“That’s a bit more than I wanted to know,” Lyra mutters.

“Remind me to research prison rules one day,” Daring Do says. “How many of them are there?”

“I have a feeling that the one Vinyl quoted won’t make it through your editors,” I say. “I mean, there’s rating or something, right?” I never really cared much about ratings. Equestrian law is kinda strange in that matter – if I wrote a movie scenario based on how I got the money to create my company, Inkie wouldn’t be allowed to watch it, despite participating in those events.

“While we’re at it,” Hexie says, looking through the window. It’s slowly getting dark outside. “Are they even allowed to keep us here? Can we get a lawyer?”

“In the middle of the desert?” I ask. I mean, one lawyer stranded in the desert would be a good start. If all of them were here, the society would benefit greatly.

“But still...” Hexie shrugs. “Okay, another idea: let’s wait till the guards come here to give us supper. We attack them and we’re free.”

“The same guards that overpowered us and brought us here?” Inkie asks. “Though, of course, I can break a few more jaws if that’s what you need...”

“Remember that it’s Flitter and Cloudchaser we’re talking about,” I say, staring through the window. “There are a couple of ponies dragging a twin machine gun there. Who wants to bet that they’ll put it here in case we’re trying something funny with the guards?”

“You must’ve really pissed off those two,” Daring Do mutters. “What exactly did you do to them?”

“Nothing, really,” Vinyl says, turning to us and wiping her hoof in the sheets. “We just helped them catch a very dangerous mafia boss who stole a precious sword from a castle in Prance.”

“Except he was your ex and I had to steal that sword to save your ass.” I notice that Daring Do grabs her notebook. Here we go. A new bestseller, soon in a store near you: “Minuette and The Sword of an Old Fart”.

We hear the lock clicking. I aim my horn at the door. Lyra and Vinyl do the same, while Inkie, Hexie, and Daring get ready to him whoever comes in.

“Easy there,” somepony says in a voice one could describe as belonging to a filly, except fillies don’t usually speak in monotone, trying to make their voice as low as possible.

I feel the urge to break something. “Ruby? What the fuck are you doing here?”

Ruby pushes the door open. “That’s not how you say ‘thank you for freeing us’,” she says. “Did you think that kicking me out of one crate would stop me?”

“We’ll talk about that later, when I convince your mother not to tear my legs from my arse.” I sigh and trot to the door. “Where did you get the key?”

“Those two bitches went somewhere and one of the guards tried to look into the crates. He got a bottle to the head,” Ruby replies, guiding us between the barracks. “Then I met that guy, Minor Major or something.”

“And what did he say?”

“He’ll meet us in the barracks.” Ruby turns left. “Don’t worry about the guards. They’re chasing a non-existent herd of giant ants.”

I nod, even though I still have no idea what the hell is going on. Apparently, Major Minor is as happy to have Flitter and Cloudchaser here as we do. Let’s see what he’ll tell us.

Major Minor is alone in his office. A single kerosene lamp stands on his desk, reminding me that we still need fuel. I trot to him quickly and rest my hooves on the desk. “Okay, mate,” I say. “What the fuck was that? First you lock us, then you send that little brat to free us?”

Major sighs. “That was a surprise for me too. They say that they’re looking for missing equipment... You know, recently somepony had stolen a few barrage balloons from the base, not to mention the fuel... But my friend, General Tendency, told me what’s going on...”

“Another conspiracy?” I ask, sitting in the armchair. Vinyl already helped herself with some of the major’s whiskey. “What is it this time? Aliens?” I decide to ignore the fact that Daring Do is currently mouthing the word “aliens”. That book really sucked.

“Yes and no. In fact, they’re looking for some precious artifact, apparently left here by some ancient civilisation... The government wants to have it.”

“Nice to know where my taxes go,” Hexie mutters. “I wish I stayed in the Griffon Empire.”

“We’re after the same thing,” Daring Do says. “That makes three...”

“Three of what?” Vinyl asks.

“Three parties who are searching for it,” Daring Do replies. “Us, those strange ponies, and the government.”

“You mean, Ahuizotl’s friends?” Ruby asks as innocently as someone who hid in a crate just to go with us can be.

“Do you think Ahuizotl can be involved?” Daring Do’s eyes widen.

Ruby rolls her eyes and slams her hoof against her forehead. She looks like her mother when she does so. “Please, I read your books. It’s always Ahuizotl. Yet you always seem surprised when it turns out that he’s behind everything.”

“That’s why I hate meetings with fans...”

“I know that feeling,” Vinyl mutters. “A few years ago, a fan sneaked to the backstage to tell me that my music blows. I showed her that it wasn’t only my music...”

I’m not sure whose ears I should cover: Inkie’s or Ruby’s.

“Okay,” Daring Do says, stepping to me. “I still can’t get over the fact that we were apparently saved by that kid who appeared ex machina, but I think we should run. Can we get any fuel?”

“Oh, I told my ponies to refuel your plane,” major says. “For ‘testing purposes’. I guess you’d rather run before the guys come back from the drill.”

“Definitely,” I say. “It was nice to see you, Minor, but, as you can see, we have the government on our asses.”

Major Minor nods and opens the door for us. As soon as we step outside, we hear the roar of gunfire. I duck, covering Ruby with my own body. An artillery shell explodes in the distance – those guys are not fucking around, drill or not.

“Can you let me go?” Ruby asks. “They’re not firing at us!”

I nod and we run through the empty camp. Vinyl curses, tripping over scattered equipment. I look around and see our plane standing at the edge of the airstrip, covered in a piece of fabric. It’s barely visible in the shadow of a nearby airship.

Suddenly, I hear a hiss right next to me. I turn to look at the source of the noise, but at the same time, I see a flash of blue magic. Another hiss and I see a changeling lying on the ground and clenching his nuts. Inkie aims her crystal gun in the darkness.

“This is not a drill anymore!” she exclaims. “Run!”

Lyra shoots a magic beam at another changeling. Daring Do takes off, rushing through the darkness. I’d rather keep a low profile – if the soldiers realise that changelings are in the camp, they’re gonna level this place and then scrap the remains from the sand. And since we’re here, that’d be also our remains.

“Get the fuck out of here, you fucking motherfucker!” Ruby yells, kicking another changeling, who apparently fell asleep while sneaking around the airstrip.

“Ruby!” I shout, smacking the changeling once more, just in case.

“What?” Ruby asks. “My mother can’t hear it anyway!”

“But I can hear it.” We run to the nearest crate and hide behind it. Somepony put those crates and barrels along our way. Quite convenient.

“At least make it more varied, filly...” Vinyl drops next to me, panting. We’re still a few metres away from the plane, but the gunfight is getting louder and I’d rather wait for it to calm down. Vinyl levitates a cigarette and lights it.

“What are you doing?” I ask, grabbing the cigarette. “You’ll give our position away!” I toss the cigarette far away. It lands in a nearby barrel.

“Hey!” Vinyl exclaims. “They won’t see it any–” Suddenly, the barrel explodes, burning fuel spreading from it in all directions. “–way.”

“Fuck!” I exclaim, covering Ruby’s ears. “Run!”

Through the fire and explosions, I see Daring, Lyra, and Hexie running towards the plane. Inkie is already there, opening the door and running inside. She’d better turn the engine on quickly – stuff is burning around and there’s a big friggin’ airship nearby. I’d rather not check how big the explosion will be and if we’re gonna survive it.

The propeller starts to turn. I unceremoniously levitate Vinyl and Ruby, and throw them inside. Daring Do flies there, while Hexie and I help Lyra to get through.

Finally, we’re all aboard. Inkie is taxiing through the airstrip, carefully avoiding the spill of burning fuel. Lyra is on the floor, panting heavily, while Vinyl tries to find a cigarette that wouldn’t be crushed.

“Want some?” Hexie asks, giving Vinyl rolling paper and tobacco. Hexie actually rarely smokes, but when she does, she prefers roll-your-owns, made of something she calls makhorka. One puff and you are in the hospital with terminal cancer.

“May I remind you that you can’t smoke here?” I ask, watching Daring Do casually dusting her hat. Then I turn to Ruby. “About you... Once I get to the radio, I’m talking to Berry...”

“And what’re ya gonna do?” Ruby asks. “Fly me home?”

Shit. We can’t go back, because if we did, we’d have to set out again. And I’m pretty sure we can’t expect a warm welcome here again. Pun not intended.

I look through the window, watching the fire we leave behind. The plane gains speed, rushing along the runway. I can still hear shots in the distance and I’m pretty sure that two pegasi who I see operating a heavy machine gun are Flitter and Cloudchaser. Not bad. They can become two biggest heroes of Equestria while we go and do our archaeology stuff.

“What’s going on, gals?” I hear a groggy voice behind me. “Are they still locked?”

Before I can turn to see what’s going on, I hear Lyra bellowing, “It’s one of them!”, followed by a sound of a pony slamming into another pony.

I turn just in time to see a pegasus sliding from under Lyra and tackling Hexie. Daring Do attacks her from behind, only to find out that she grabbed a hoofful of air. At the same moment, the plane starts, causing us to fall backwards in a messy heap.

“What the fu– I mean, what the hay is going on there?!” Inkie yells from the cockpit. “Minuette, can you come here and help me?”

“I can’t!” I reply, trying to get what’s going on. It’s not easy when Vinyl gives out a guttural scream and lands a punch on the invader’s muzzle. I don’t waste time – before the pegasus has a chance to escape, I hit her in the stomach with my head. Ruby finishes the deed by smashing a bottle on the attacker’s head.

“I’m starting to like it!” Ruby exclaims.

I take a look at the unconscious pegasus and poke her with my hoof. “It’s Blossomforth. This world is small...”

Vinyl grabs a shotgun. “We can’t give her a chance. If she wakes up, she’ll beat us all again...”

“There’s too many of us, don’t worry,” Hexie says, stepping into a puddle of spilled whisky and splashing it on Blossomforth’s face. “Wake up, girl.”

Blossomforth blinks. “My head... What happened?”

“We’re running away,” I reply. “And we don’t need another passenger.”

“Yeah!” Vinyl yells, waving her shotgun. “We’ll make you walk the plank!” She’s interrupted when Lyra smacks her.

“Girls?” Inkie asks from the cockpit. “Can you help me?” I don’t know where to fly, we’re being chased, and there’s a lot of dead changeling’s guts on the windscreen...”

“Wait a minute!” I shout before turning back to Blossomforth. “Okay, here’s the deal,” I say. “We’ll throw you out, you’ll fall to the ground in the most dramatic way possible to lure Flitter and Cloudchaser, and tell them that unfortunately you couldn’t stop us. How does it sound to you?”

“What if I don’t?” Blossomforth asks.

“We’ll tie you and leave you here with Vinyl and Ruby.”

“I can untie myself from any knot in two minutes.”

Ruby smiles so wide that she looks like ponies from that strange village of cultists discovered a few years ago. “I’ll need one.”

“Deal,” Blossomforth stands up and winces. “Where’s the door?”

I show Blossomforth the door. She opens it and flies away in an uncoordinated manner, barely missing our tail and crashing into Flitter. I watch for a while as Cloudchaser tries to untangle them, then I close the door and grab Ruby with my magic.

“You’ll go with me,” I say, walking with her to the cockpit. Inkie is sitting there, staring at the controls in barely contained panic.

“What’s going on?” Inkie asks when I sit next to her and dump Ruby unceremoniously on Hexie’s seat.

“We had to throw Blossomforth out,” I reply, grabbing the radio.

Inkie only nods. “We’re flying south, but I only can fly by instruments, since the only visible point on the ground is that large fire we just left behind.”

“Okay,” I reply. “Fly a bit higher. I don’t wanna crash into some mountain and end up in Gelding Grotto or some similar place.” I turn to Ruby. “And now, we’ll talk to your mother...”

Ruby whimpers. “Why are you so cruel to me?”

“You’ve just scared an experienced special agent shitless,” I reply. “Shut up and take it like a grown mare.” I push the button on the radio. “Berry?”

“Hello,” Berry says in a tone suggesting that some bottles were already emptied. “I’m a bit busy at the moment. We’re searching the river for my kid. That retard never learned to swim.”

“I can swim, for fuck’s sake!” Ruby yells.

“Don’t use such words!” Berry shouts, causing radio speaker to almost explode in feedback. “You just fucking drowned!”

“Excuse me,” I say, seeing Inkie’s blush spreading from her face to other parts of her body. “Berry, Ruby is with us. She somehow sneaked on our plane.”

What follows is a five-minute-long stream of abuse, directed mostly at me, but also Ruby and Berry herself. I’ll spare you the details, but I can say that I had to cover Inkie’s ears or else we’d crash.

Berry pauses to catch a breath. “Can you fly back here and give her back to me? I’m gonna ground her forever.”

I gulp, preparing myself for another round of slurs. “We kinda can’t.”

“Why?” Berry asks after a moment of silence.

“You’ll see in the news,” I reply. “Let’s say that we’re currently not very welcome in Equestria.”

“What?”

“As I said, you’ll see in the news. Anyway, Ruby is safe with us. She won’t leave the plane.”

Berry sighs. “I know you and I know her. Something will go wrong.”

Well, I know Ruby and I know myself. Berry is totally right. Especially since we all know Vinyl. To change the topic, I ask, “How’s Cherry Berry? Did she start the tests of the plane?”

“This thing? She turned on the engines and nearly killed Silver Spanner,” Berry replies. “A typical day at work, really. Everything is fine.”

I have an unpleasant feeling that when I get back to Ponyville, I’ll see the scorched remains of the hangar. And Cherry Berry flying on the barn door.

“So, how exactly are those engines?” I ask.

A moment of silence, interrupted only by static. “To quote Cherry Berry, the props turn like two motherfuckers.”

I nod. “That’s what I wanted to hear. Take care, Berry. We’ll talk again when we’re in Mexicolt.”

“Okay,” Berry replies. “Berry out.”

I drop on my seat and look through the windscreen. Well, I can’t see horseapples – it’s dark and there’s some green slime on the glass. According to the instruments, we’re about four thousand metres above the ground, flying south at our typical cruise speed, which is a hundred and ninety kilometres per hour.

“Hey, what’s this?” Ruby asks, pointing at the crystal built into the wall.

“It’s our tracking spell,” I reply. “It shows things we can’t see. We wouldn’t want to hit some dragon or something. Also, you’d better go to the back of the plane. And tell Hexie to come here.”

“Auntie Vinyl is telling a joke about a bat pony drinking tea,” Ruby mutters, listening to the noises coming from behind the cockpit door. “Do you really want me to listen to it?”

“You know it already,” I reply. “Just like the story about three brothers and the horny princess.”

“Don’t remind me,” Ruby mutters. “When I finished telling it at the campfire, the colts went to the bushes to do stuff.”

Inkie clears her throat. “Excuse me, but I’m trying to focus on piloting here... Why don’t you go and tell that story to Vinyl?”

“Fair point,” I say. “Ruby, get out of the cockpit and go to sleep. Fillies sleep at night, even those who hide on planes to go on an adventure.”

“What if I don’t?”

“Remember what I told you about that filly who didn’t sleep and then murdered her classmates?”

“Cool!” Ruby smiles.

“Well, you won’t be like her,” I say with a sigh. “You’ll be just tired. Go to sleep.”

“Okay,” Ruby mutters and goes out of the cockpit. I grab the stick and look at the compass. Still going south. I hope we don’t find ourselves in the middle of the ocean when the sun rises. I grab a map and try to assess our position.

“You remind me of my mother,” Inkie says when I levitate the pencil to sketch our route.

“Say what now?” I ask, drawing a line joining the Badlands with Mexicolt. “We’d better turn a bit right, or else we’re gonna get shot down by the guys from Gaitanamo Bay. Dunno how about you, but I’d rather not have another meeting with Equestrian Army.”

Inkie nods. “She was telling us stories... Like, about a filly who went to a party and got pregnant. She then used a wire hanger to get rid of it and could never have foals again. So, she started to drink and do drugs. Then she died.”

“Tell that to Vinyl,” I mutter. “She’s pretty bad at the dying part. And I’m pretty sure she’d never used a wire hanger. Unless she masturbated with it.”

Inkie sighs. “Then I was afraid that I’d start to drink, do drugs, and die.”

“Did you?”

Inkie shakes her head. “No. I first had a drink in Hollow Shades. It wasn’t a pleasant experience...”

“Tell me about it,” I mutter. “I woke up in a coffin.”

Somepony knocks on the door. Before I have a chance to say “come in!”, the door opens. Vinyl steps into the cockpit, wearing a frilly pink gown and Rainbow Dash-shaped slippers.

“I just wanna say goodnight,” she says. “Also, Daring Do refuses to sleep next to me when I have those on.” She points at her slippers.

“Well, that’s her problem,” I reply. I wouldn’t want to sleep next to Vinyl either, regardless of what she’s wearing, but luckily, I won’t be sleeping tonight. Or rather, I’m gonna be fucking pissed tomorrow morning, after forty eight hours of flying and running away from Equestria’s government instead of sleeping. And that means that I’ll most likely crash this plane and Inkie won’t stop me because she also didn’t sleep for who the hell knows how long.

“Inkie, go to sleep,” I say.

“Why?”

“Because most accidents happen during take-off and landing,” I reply. “At least one of the pilots needs to be fresh. You don’t want Coco to be a widow?”

“Right,” Inkie mutters and stands up. “Wake me up when we’re close.”

I stay alone in the cockpit. The gauges show that everything is fine, which makes me worry, since it means that something will soon crash. I look through the windscreen, but there’s nothing there, only darkness and some glowing orbs in the sky. I ignore them – I’ve seen them many times and so did pilots of our helicopters who were flying at night. Maybe it’s a hallucination or maybe an alien ship. I know one thing – when Bitta Blues was trying to chase them, she woke up outside the wreckage of her helicopter, in the middle of the desert. According to some pilots, she spent the night lying unconscious on a cactus.

I yawn, listening to the monotone hum of the engine.

Then I wake up, five hundred metres lower than I used to be, with the speedometer showing sixty kilometres per hour. Holy shit! I push the throttle lever and the stick. The engine groans, but we’re slowly speeding up. Good thing we didn’t crash. How long was I out?

I look at the crystal of the tracking spell to check for mountains. There are none, but we apparently flew ten metres above some pass. Good thing I only moved the throttle lever in my sleep, instead of pushing the stick and making a big crater in the ground.

I just pull the stick to gain some of the lost altitude when the door opens and Inkie walks into the cockpit. “What’s going on? I can sleep through turbulences, but they woke up Vinyl, Lyra, and Pinchy.”

“Are they doing something dangerous?” I ask. “You told them that you can’t open the window?”

“Nope, but they’re talking about their farts.” Inkie groans. “It’s kinda hard to fall asleep when they–”

“Don’t finish,” I mutter. “Anyway, could you pilot the plane for a bit? I almost killed us all.”

If Inkie was swearing, she’d do that now. “H-how?” she asks, shuddering.

I yawn. “That’s how. If you don’t feel well, I’ll wake up Hexie and she’ll be sitting here with you. In fact, there should be always two of us here.”

Inkie nods and sits on her seat. Good girl. “Next time you feel sleepy, call me quicker,” she says. “Coco would kill me if I died.”

I nod and walk out of the cockpit. As I trot to the cargo hold, I hear a familiar voice saying familiar things.

“And then I ate five pounds of apples and drank a gallon of milk,” Vinyl says. “It was like an earthquake...”

I unzip the sleeping bag and slip inside. Daring Do sleeps next to me – apparently she’s pretty immune to any noises.

“You should’ve tried my mother’s cooking,” Ruby whispers. “My sleeping bag looked like an airship in the morning...”

Thanks for the mental image, kid. I cower in my sleeping bag and close my eyes.

“Do you sleep in it on a daily basis?” Lyra asks Ruby. “The sleeping bag, I mean.”

“Totally,” Ruby replies. “Like, I like to crawl into a tight space to fall asleep. I can’t sleep in the open.”

That explains everything: her father is a vampire who sleeps in the coffin. Too bad he didn’t bother to pay child support. Maybe Berry would have more time to actually explain to her daughter a difference between being independent and being an asshole.

“So, you crave closeness?” Lyra asks, concern in her voice. “You feel better in tight spaces? Do you have some parental issues?”

Ruby sighs. “You don’t fucking say...”

“Language!” I yell from my corner of the cargo hold. “In fact, I’m gonna establish a swear jar in here, just for you, Vinyl, and–”

“You?” Vinyl asks.

“Okay, me too,” I mutter, wrapping myself in the sleeping bag. “Goodnight, ponies.”

Apparently, I slept through not only the rest of the flight, but also the landing. I wake up to the sight of Vinyl throwing up into the bucket – apparently she didn’t take the landing lightly. Ruby watches her with a curious expression, kinda like medicine students look at their teacher dissecting a corpse.

“Hello,” Lyra says, walking into the cargo hold. “Inkie said that we only have a little fuel left and that we need to go and find a dude who sells it.”

I get up and stretch my hooves. “Sure,” I mutter. “If I recall correctly, the local tycoon is called Inmundo Rico. He has an office and warehouses here, in Mexicolt City. His company trades everything.”

“I’ll go with you,” Vinyl mutters weakly. “Like, I need some fresh air. And cigarettes.”

“May I go with you too?” Ruby asks.

“No,” I reply, trying to make my voice sound strict. “I told Berry that we’ll keep you out of trouble.”

Ruby takes a deep breath to throw a tantrum, when Hexie walks in and smirks at her. “Don’t worry,” she says. “I’ll keep an eye on you. We’ll check all the systems of the plane together.”

Ruby still doesn’t look convinced. “What dangerous can happen? It’s just a city...”

“We’re not in Equestria anymore,” Vinyl says. “Not to mention that when we last landed somewhere, we had to run away as if our arses were on fire. It probably had something to do with some two incestuous hags who–”

“What is ‘incestuous’?” Ruby asks.

“I’ll tell you if you stay with Hexie.” I sigh and turn to Lyra. “Is Daring going with us?”

“No,” Lyra replies. “She said that she’ll stay and keep an eye on the plane. You know, in case a thousand ninjas come to steal it.”

I nod. “Okay, let’s go there.”

“Woohoo!” Vinyl yells. “Just like in old times! Just you, me, and Inkie.”

“And me,” Lyra adds.

Vinyl ignores her. “Wish Trixie was here. You don’t know what she’s doing, huh?”

We walk out of the plane. The weather is hot and sunny, and the place smells. Not surprising. There are not many proper airports in the world yet and the one in Mexicolt City is basically a large market – the only thing that differs it from other such establishments is that airships from the Griffon Empire land there, as well as pegasi from the south, and even some of our helicopters. Add lots of improperly stored food and generally hot climate into the mix and you know why the air smells as if something died here.

“No, I don’t know where she is,” I reply, walking past the group of teenage bat ponies. They’re probably tourists, judging by the smell of unwashed bodies and their t-shirts, with things such as “Bat Ass” or “Bat Attitude” written on them.

“That sucks,” Vinyl mutters. “Like, she took her money and disappeared without saying goodbye.”

“Hey, look, a sombrero!” Lyra exclaims. “Can I buy a sombrero?”

“Do what you want,” I say. “But remember that we’re not here to buy souvenirs.”

“Okay.” Lyra puts a sombrero on her head. “How about this cute monkey with cymbals?”

“No fucking way,” Vinyl mutters. “It stares into my soul...” Suddenly, she sniffs the air and trots to a stall filled with some leaves. The old alpaca behind the leaves looks at her and smirks – she probably knows that shiksas from Equestria mean easy money. Especially if the leaves are what I think they are.

“Err... Buenos dias,” Vinyl says, smiling like an idiot and making a wide gesture with her hooves. “Umm... Me gusta la cocaina?”

The alpaca sighs. “Twenty pesos per pound. Or twenty bits per pound if that suits you better.”

Well, I’m not sure what’s the most recent exchange rate, but unless there was a large crisis recently, someone here wants to fuck us. Not to mention that we have a bigger problem.

“Vinyl, for Celestia’s sake, you can’t just buy coca leaves!” I pull Vinyl from the stall.

“Why not? You let Lyra buy a sombrero!”

“Because sombreros are sombreros and coca leaves are, well, coca leaves,” I reply. “And we have something to do, after all. Lyra? Inkie? Where are you?”

“I was buying that rock,” Inkie replies, showing me a pebble in a questionable shape. “I’m sure Maud will love it.”

“Yeah, no doubts about that,” I mutter.

“It’s just leaves,” Vinyl says, trying to go back to the stall. “It’s not like I’m going to extract cocaine from them right after we’re back in the plane.”

“Chill out,” Lyra says. “Remember that prices here are for tourists. I’m pretty sure the leaves will be cheaper in town.”

Vinyl was right. Just like in the old times, except Trixie was less nuts, incredible as it may seem. We walk through the colourful street, full of stalls with exotic food and local clothes. Hmm, maybe I’ll get a poncho? Or anything to keep me warm when I’m flying.

“Vinyl, pay that old lady two bits for that locust you just stole from the stall,” I mutter. “We’re not here to get arrested. Ladies in local prisons would love you...”

In hindsight, I should’ve known that it’s not how you discourage Vinyl from anything.

“Are they hot?” Vinyl asks.

“Meth addicts with cunts so loose that you’d be able to fit a basketball there?” I shrug. “Whatever floats your boat.”

Vinyl sighs and shuts up. The citizens – mostly donkeys and alpacas – look at us curiously. Nothing surprising – we’re clearly not locals and Lyra is wearing a sombrero.

Inkie walks to me. “Do you think they’re gonna rob us?” she whispers into my ear.

“Not really,” I reply. “It’s a civilised place. They won’t rob us. Instead, they’ll make us spend all our money on something we don’t want. Which is exactly what ponies in Equestria do to tourists.”

“And it works?”

“Hey!” Lyra exclaims. “Ponchos! I’m gonna buy a poncho to go with this sombrero!”

Inkie nods and we stop, waiting for Lyra to finish talking with the vendor. It takes a while, since she’s only a bit better than Vinyl when it comes to languages.

Finally, we get to the office of Inmundo Rico’s enterprise, called Ganga Corral or something like that. The building is more or less as huge as my hangar in Ponyville, but much more elegant – built of white marble, with columns in the front, surrounded by palm trees. By the door, we’re greeted by a young, brownish alpaca wearing a shirt with a nametag which says “Paco”. He follows us to the reception desk.

“Buenos dias,” Paco says, raising his eyebrows when his eyes land upon Vinyl and Lyra. For a moment I can almost see a struggle going in his mind, but then he turns to me and Inkie. Apparently, we’re in his comfort zone – darker colours, serious expressions, and we’re having aviator goggles hanging from our necks.

“Buenos,” I reply. “Yo no habla–”

“Don’t worry, we all habla here,” Paco replies. “Unfortunately, we don’t serve customers here. Go to one of our shops. There are ten of them in Mexicolt City alone.”

“We need a bigger order,” I say. “I guess you have kerosene in your magazines? We need about 1200 litres.”

“To that mechanical dragonfly?” Paco asks. “Yeah, I’ve heard that you came here. Unfortunately, I don’t think you can talk to the boss today.”

“Why?” I ask, trying to ignore the fact that Lyra and Vinyl walk around the lounge and watch the pictures on the walls as if those were some masterpieces. Well, maybe they are – most of them depict ships, factories, and various machines.

In fact, I’m most afraid about the potted palms that stand in the corners and on both side of large, marble stairs. Like, Vinyl may pee in the pots.

“Today it’s the cuteceanera of his daughter, Diamante.” Paco leans closer to us. “The celebration will last three days and all the members of Rico family will show up.” He lowers his voice to a whisper, “It’s all as organised as el burdel on fire.”

“Sounds like my thing,” I mutter. “Lead the way, Paco. I’m gonna talk to Señor Rico...”

Paco sighs and walks out of the office with us. The walk from it to Señor Rico’s residence is not long, but Paco goes slowly, as if he didn’t want to be there with us. Especially with us.

When we reach the residence, the reason for this becomes clear. It really resembles a brothel on fire. A really large brothel, where everypony speaks in the most dramatic way possible. In other words, something like the stuff my mother likes to read.

In the middle of the room, a brown pony with large moustache and an eyepatch is yelling something frantically at a group of donkeys. Behind him, there’s a pink filly with violet and black mane, wearing a white dress. She seems pretty bored by the whole situation – she yawns and looks at us with an indifferent expression.

“This is Inmundo Rico,” Paco mutters, pointing at the stallion, who’s now yanking his moustache and rolling his eyes. “You wanted something from him?”

Vinyl steps up. “Let me handle it. I know that kind.” She walks to Inmundo Rico and says, “Hey, mariachi, we have a business...”

“¡Métetelo por el culo!” Inmundo Rico shouts.

Vinyl sighs. “Listen, dude: I don’t want you to talk about métetelo anything in my culo, especially when there’s a filly around. Second thing is, we’re bringing money, so shut up, pendejo and listen, or all your family will think that you’re a pinche idiota who let such an occasion slip through his hooves. Capisco?”

“Si.” Rico replies. “But you must understand me! My daughter’s cuteceanera must be perfect! We prepared everything and now this!” He looks at the ceiling and groans. His daughter shrugs.

“Isn’t it strange that they have cuteceaneras like we do?” Vinyl whispers to me. “Like, one’d think they’d call it differently.”

I sigh. “We have cuteceaneras like they do,” I mutter before turning to Rico. “What exactly happened? Maybe we can help? We can organise DJ Pon3’s concert!”

“Actually, I’ve heard about an interesting custom,” Lyra says to Vinyl behind my back. “On the third day of the party, a filly who got her cutie mark is publically deflowered by a donkey. Apparently it brings good luck.”

“I call bullshit,” Vinyl whispers. “Sleeping with donkeys only brings you trouble. Like, we broke the bed. Five times.”

“Help?” Rico’s cry causes Vinyl to shut up. “You can’t help! You see, there was supposed to be lucha libre during the party and one of las luchadoras broke his hoof! I can’t replace her now!”

I nod, remembering one of my previous jobs. “Lucha libre, you say? I used to be a manager. How exactly was that supposed to look like?”

Inmundo Rico stands still and closes his eyes. “Hooves versus hands. Strength versus dexterity. Pony versus minotaur...” he makes a dramatic pause. “La Cabra Loca versus La Matanza!” He opens his eyes. “And then La Cabra Loca broke her hoof.”

“I can see a problem there,” I say. “But there’s never too late to find a replacement, right?” I’m shit at fighting, unless I can fight dirty and I’m pretty sure the minotaur is a heel here. But hell, it’s staged anyway. Nothing bad can happen to me.

“I can do that,” Inkie mutters before I’m able to say something. She blushes when we look at her. “What?” she whispers. “You always say that I’m good at beating ponies.”

“You can’t do that,” I say. “You hate beating ponies!”

“But I’m good at it.” Inkie sighs. “If not me, then who? Vinyl?”

Tempting. Vinyl is a born showmare, she’d manage to entertain the audience even if a minotaur punched her through the wall. But Vinyl suddenly hides behind Lyra; apparently it’s too much even for her.

“Okay,” I say after a while. “She’s a good replacement, I can tell you. She trained with 3M herself, if you remember her.”

Inmundo Rico still looks unsure, so I decide to be more direct. “We book a fight, you give us kerosene, day’s saved. We’re getting out of here. Okay?”

Inmundo Rico clears his throat. “The problem is, Diamante wanted to see an unstaged fight for once. Right, Diamante?”

“Si, papa,” Diamante replies, her expression still indifferent.

Well, shit. It’s not wrestling I fought for.

“I’m fine with this,” Inkie mutters in a tone suggesting that she’s totally not fine with this. “How are we gonna do that?”

“We’re not,” I reply. “I hate to be that pony, but you can’t just wrestle a minotaur, especially since it’s clear you don’t want to.”

Inkie looks at me coldly – that’s something I rarely see. “I will wrestle a minotaur whether you want it or not. Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Yeah,” Vinyl says. “You’re, like, not her mother. Besides, go and tell Daring Do that we’re gonna stay here for three days because you don’t want Inkie to wrestle a minotaur. C’mon, I dare you.”

“I’m gonna tell her,” I reply. “In fact, I’m gonna do that right now.” I walk away from them. Lyra runs behind me.

“Don’t worry,” Lyra says. “We’ll take care of everything.”

“Fuck off,” I reply, walking out of Mr. Rico’s house and join the crowds in the street. I walk through the town in a foul mood, barely paying attention to my surroundings.

You see, when I’m in a foul mood, I’m not fun to be around. Well, even more than usual, actually. I swear, kick foals down the stairs, say things I regret later... It gets even worse when someone else is pissed. Like, a few years ago I was taking care of Ruby right after getting fired. Berry had a bad hangover and a sudden attack of maternal instinct. Yelling at Ruby to stop levitating stuff around escalated into a fully-scale argument, after which I ended up getting punched through the wall. Then we both had to attend anger management classes.

“¡Señorita! ¿Cerveza?” The voice snaps me out of my thoughts.

“Si,” I reply, throwing some bits on the counter. “Mucha cerveza.”

Sipping beer, I trot towards Little Cadance. Only now I notice how shitty the surroundings look. Like, there’s a stinky gutter nearby, with two dead rats lying next to each other. Woohoo. Wonder how nopony died of some really nasty shit here yet.

I stop, watching as the third rat slowly approaches its dead companions. Circle of life. Your friends died, so it’s time to eat them. Though I’ve heard that when a herd of rats find food, they always find a volunteer to taste it, and if they croak, the rest doesn’t eat it. I’m not sure if that rat heard about it, though.

The rat is about to sink its teeth in its dead companion, when suddenly I hear a shot. Not a howitzer shot, but rather a dry snap of a carbine action, two-hundred shot range model air rifle with a compass in the stock and this thing which tells time. The rat jumps and drops dead next to the other two.

Wait, did I just say that “carbine action” thing?

Shite.

“Ruby!” I yell, turning towards the plane. My beloved not-exactly-niece is lying on the upper wing with a BB-gun resting by her side.

“Hello,” she says. “What’s up?”

“You’ll be, when I kick you back to Equestria!” I shout. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“I’m shooting rats,” Ruby replies. “We checked the whole plane with Hexie and repaired the aileron. Daring Do brought us dinner and now I’m relaxing.”

“By shooting rats.”

“It’s the only entertainment in here.” Ruby shrugs.

“Yeah, but I was standing there. And you know that I react badly to shots.” Indeed, I do. Must have something to do with all those mafia guys that used to chase me.

Meanwhile, Ruby doesn’t listen to me. She cocks the lever of her BB gun and aims at something. Most unicorns use levitation for that, but Ruby’s style is kinda hybrid: she holds it with her hooves and uses magic to pull the trigger. Apparently it gives her better stability or something.

I turn around to see an emaciated cat sniffing the dead rats. Stability my ass. I use my own magic to levitate the BB-gun out of Ruby’s hooves and smack her gently in the back of the head with its butt.

“Ouch!” Ruby winces. “What was that for?”

“You wanted to kill a cat,” I reply. “In ancient Haygypt an angry mob would rip you to shreds.”

“We’re not in Haygypt,” Ruby replies. “And there’s no mob here.”

“But there’s me.” I take the gun away from her and try to unload it. I’m not sure how to do that – back when I was a kid, we were playing with slingshots. That is, until Cherry Berry got her first concussion ever. “First you shoot rats, then cats, and then your classmates. Why are you even shooting rats? They’re intelligent.”

“They eat their own shit.” Ruby jumps off the wings in a rather ungraceful manner, grabbing wires of the plane to slow herself down.

“But they have some purpose to do that,” I say. “Try to shoot spiders.”

“They’re too small.”

“Wait till we go to Oatstralia,” I mutter. “Anyway, I’m not here to tell you about shooting rats. Where’s Daring Do?”

“I’m here,” Daring Do replies, walking out of the plane. “What’s going on? Did you buy fuel?”

“Well, kind of.” I smirk sheepishly. “You see, my friends are idiots sometimes.”

“That white one even more often than sometimes,” Daring Do deadpans.

“Yeah.” I nod. “You see, as a matter of fact, they’re gonna wrestle a minotaur...”

I expect fury. Or a punch in the face. Or both.

“Do they wrestle a minotaur because we won’t be given fuel otherwise?” Daring Do asks.

“Not really...”

“Do they do that to save somepony who’ll give us fuel?” She smiles, grabbing her notebook. Behind her back, Ruby rolls her eyes.

“No,” I reply.

“What are they doing then?” Daring Do waves her hoof.

“If they wrestle a minotaur, we’ll be given fuel today or tomorrow. If not, we’ll have to wait three days.” I sigh and facehoof.

“Regardless of the outcome of the fight?” Daring Do asks.

“Yes.”

“That’s fucking retarded.” Daring Do shakes her head.

“That’s what I was trying to say.”

“Let’s go and see it.” She jumps and claps her hooves. “There’s always time for adventure!”

Ruby raises her eyebrows and shrugs behind Daring’s back. Meanwhile, Daring flies to the plane, calling Hexie.

Hexie emerges from the inside of the machine with some colourful wires wrapped around her leg. Her mane is rather messy, as if she just woke up. Judging by the way she walks, she also took a look into the crate with whiskey before going to sleep.

“Hello.” She raises the hoof with wires. “I was just fixing those. They could’ve killed us in, like, ten thousand kilometres.”

“So I guess you’re busy?” I ask.

Hexie looks at Daring Do unsurely. “Eeyup. Also, someone has to take care of the plane in case of, you know, ninja attack or something.”

“Whatever floats your boat,” I reply, shrugging. “No, Ruby, we’ll leave your BB-gun here. Hexie may need it to make some ninja laugh.”

“Shouldn’t I stay here too?” Ruby asks, watching as Daring makes a somersault in the air. “Maybe she’ll need help with ninjas?”

“It’s a cuteceanera,” I reply. “There’ll be other kids there.”

Ruby sighs and lowers her head. “Okay...”

We walk next to the gutter, where the cat is now munching on dead rats and trot through the town. It’s slowly getting dark, which means that the party will soon start. The air is still hot, but at least we can breathe normally now. The air is filled with buzzing of insects, which reminds me of something.

“As soon as we’re back, you’re getting a malaria vaccine,” I say to Ruby. “Berry will tear my head off if you get sick.”

“Is that why you took my gun away?” Ruby asks. Before I can reply, she adds, “You know I’m not afraid of needles like auntie Vinyl.”

Well, she isn’t, though she wasn’t always like that. When she was two, Berry and I were barely able to drag her to the doctor. But at least she was a normal foal back then, if we assume that a two-year-old can be normal.

“Here we are,” I say when we stand in front of Inmundo Rico’s house. Paco is standing next to the door. He rushes to us as soon as he sees me.

“Your friends told me to wait for you,” he says. “This white one said that she knew you’d be back.”

“How are they?” I ask.

“They say that they got it and no worries.”

No worries? Vinyl can sometimes be more Oatstralian than me, even though she rarely moves her arse outside Equestria.

Paco looks at Ruby. “Young seńorita can join Diamante and her friends,” he says.

We proceed inside. I can hear loud music playing – judging by the fact that someone occasionally yells to the microphone like a raped baboon, Vinyl got to the turntables after all. Daring Do seems charmed – she quickly finds Lyra in the crowd, stands next to her, and grabs her notebook.

I notice Diamante among the ponies. She walks to Ruby and says something quickly, to which Ruby shrugs.

Diamante says something again. This time, I can catch the words “lucha libre”.

Ruby nods. “Madre mia... el luchadora, she mutters with an accent even more terrible than Vinyl’s.

“El luchadora?” Diamante asks.

“Si. Tres-M,” Ruby replies, sweating as she’s trying to recall all her limited vocabulary.

“Tres-M?” Diamante’s jaw drops and she explodes into some long monologue. At some point I can clearly hear the words “Geneighva Convención”. Nice to know that kids heard about even so unconventional tactics. Though, on the other hoof that fight wasn’t kid-friendly.

Ruby and Diamante walk away. I watch as Ruby takes a sip of punch when Diamante isn’t watching. I can see her wince – good to know that there’s apparently some tequila in the punch.

I turn to look at Daring Do, but I can’t see her. Instead, I see some gentlecolt wearing a sombrero and sporting an obviously fake moustache. To think about it, he totally looks like Daring Do.

“Professor Yearling, what the hell are you doing?” I whisper.

“Shh...” She puts her hoof over her muzzle. “Too many strange ponies here. I need to be incognito. From now on, I’m Perrito Calliente.”

“It literally means ‘Hot Dog’,” I reply. “They’re gonna find out that something’s wrong. Have you ever met a pony named Hot Dog?”

“Then we’ll switch to plan B,” she says. “A glorious escape.”

“I don’t think escapes can be glorious, but they may save lives. Which are not endangered right now.”

“They still can,” she mutters.

I sigh and take a look at the crowd. Most of the ponies there look similar to Inmundo Rico, Diamante, or both. Many of them have moustache that, unlike my new friend Perrito’s, looks genuine. Some of them even wear sombreros. Unlike Lyra, however, they look as if they were born with them.

Speaking of Lyra, she’s walking to us through the crowd. She stands in front of us, staggering slightly. I’m guessing punch. Or tequila.

“Hi,” she says. “I knew you’d be back, you know?” She looks at Daring Do and smirks. “How am I supposed to call your new friend?”

“Burrito or something like that,” I reply. “She... I mean, he, likes to pretend to be somepony else.”

“Shut up, cabrón,” Daring Do mutters. “Soy Perrito Calliente.”

“As you wish,” I reply. “Besa mi culo, puto.”

“Anyway,” Lyra says, ignoring our little conversation. “Inkie’s getting ready. We called her Rock Crusher.”

“How’s she?” I ask, ignoring the idiocy of Inkie’s name. After all, during my months as Berry’s manager, I was hanging out with Steel Buns, Balls Destroyer, and Brain Masher. The last of those now lives in Ponyville and has a son who, according to Ruby, is a total loser.

“Good,” Lyra mutters, staring at Daring Do. “Don’t worry about her. Vinyl has an idea...”

Okay, I wasn’t worried before. Now I’m worried like a train driver who discovers that some idiot thought that tracks are a good place a picnic with twenty foals.

“What kind of idea?”

“You’ll see,” Lyra replies. “Anyway, you have a place next to La Matanza’s manager. His name, by a sheer accident, is Perrito Calliente.”

“Go and tell him that his name sounds fake,” Daring Do mutters.

I tell her, in my poor Caballo, what did I do to her mother’s milk. Lyra, who may be ignoring what we say because she simply doesn’t know the language, leads us to the arena in the middle of the garden, surrounded by folding bleachers. On one of the sides of the arena, there’s a set of turntables, where Vinyl dances as if she had a fit of epilepsia. Some ponies are already sitting there; I can see Diamante and Ruby, accompanied by some dark-haired filly with glasses.

“That’s Cucharilla da Silva, Diamante’s best friend,” Lyra informs me, walking through the crowd. We sit next to a brownish guy with glasses. He has a blonde mane and no moustache, so he’s probably not from here.

“Hello,” I say. “Seńor Calliente, I suppose?”

“Yeah,” he replies. “5M, I guess?”

“How did you–”

“Your friend told me,” Calliente replies, pointing at Vinyl. “She said that you want to get back into business and you’re now helping this kid.”

What? I already have my own business, thank you. And I was never much into wrestling. It was just one of the opportunities I had, just like army, journalism, and stealing mafia’s money.

“Well, I’m a bit busy,” I reply. “The thing is–”

“I know, that flying thing.” Calliente chuckles. “Nice idea. I guess it’s not an accident that you’re here today. Rico’s business may be legal, but some of his cousins...” He clicks his tongue.

Oh, fuck me. I’m getting into mafia’s affairs again? No way. I need to tell them that one of the rules by which Turner and Berry functions is that we don’t transport drugs, dangerous chemicals, and foals in boxes with holes. We also don’t fly above warzones.

“I’m not here to offer my services to anypony,” I reply in a voice that could freeze Tartarus. “And we’re certainly not getting into wrestling again.”

Calliente chuckles. “I can hardly call that ‘not getting into wrestling’...”

The music dies down. Vinyl grabs the microphone in a way telling me that I should’ve gotten earplugs. Next to me, Lyra and Daring Do watch the arena in anticipation. On the other side of the bleachers, Ruby eats a tortilla.

“Hola, fillies and gentlecolts!” Vinyl yells into the microphone. “I hope you liked that little show by yours truly, unforgettable DJ Pon3!” She chuckles. The audience hardly gives a damn – they’re probably waiting for the fight to start, not to mention that, judging by Inmundo Rico’s behaviour, they’re used to much more dramatic speeches.

Vinyl notices that. “Okay, so if someone wants to talk, drink, or do other lewd things to me, I’m here,” she says. “But now, it’s time for something you waited for... Something you’ll tell your grandkids about...” She pushes some button on her console, causing it to make a sound of incoming thunder. “The eternal struggle between strength and agility! The fight between barbaric heroes, who will never give up! The fight which will make you rethink your whole lives! Fillies and gentlecolts... Let me introduce you to a hero... a girl so fast that her punches go back in time and smack your mother in the back of the head while she’s giving birth! The brave warrior who always defends the poor and kicks the crap out of the oppressive authority! A hero of a thousand ballads! Let me introduce... The Rock Crusher!”

Hmm, it seems that Vinyl was learning from Trixie. Though I guess “oppressive authority” is not a safe thing to say when local police commander is sitting two rows from me, right next to the mayor and some important donkey who apparently is Mexicolt’s minister of economy.

Inkie walks into the arena. Her costume is pretty impressive, given how little time Lyra and Vinyl had to prepare it. A torn, steel-coloured suit with a mask, adorned with several belts – kinda like that new wave of comic book superheroes, who do nothing but kick arse and whine. Inkie tries to stare at the audience menacingly, which is kinda easier with the mask. I bet poor girl is scared shitless.

Vinyl clears her throat. “And now, my dear audience, time for our today’s opponent. When she heard about Rock Crusher for the first time, she swore that she won’t come back to her dark home in the middle of poisonous swamp till she defeats her and hang her head on her horn. The grass dies where she stood... If you see her, your days are numbered... She eats nails and farts dragonfire! Fillies and gentlecolts... La Matanza!”

Well, shit. The minotaur is twice taller than Inkie and at least ten times more muscular. Her outfit consists mostly of leather, chains, leather chains, silver nails, earrings, and hatred towards the whole world. She enters the arena with a deafening roar, and bangs her fist against an empty seat, crushing it.

The audience trembles in fear. Well, except of me and Calliente. You know, back when Berry was fighting, I invented a whole story of how she rips her opponents open and eats their steaming entrails while singing prayers to Nightmare Moon. I bet Calliente has similar experiences.

“Who’s the judge?” I ask. Not that it usually matters, but if they’re going to fight for real, there’d better be somepony to stop them from killing each other. And yeah, I’m worried about the minotaur too.

Calliente shrugs. “Some alpaca dude. I don’t know him, but it seems that it’s all one big kludge, y’know? Like, they’re trying to make a great match with minimal effort.”

“Maybe,” I reply, watching as Paco enters the arena to tell the wrestlers to have a fair fight. Yeah, right. La Matanza looks like she thought “fair fight” is some kind of food.

La Matanza roars, charging at Inkie. She looks like a steam locomotive running loose, except locomotives don’t usually have horns. Inkie waits calmly till the minotaur is close and jumps to her left. La Matanza continues to run, causing ponies to flee from the bleachers.

The sound of cracking wood causes the audience to groan. La Matanza turns around, grabs a piece of board and throws it at Inkie. For a moment, I imagine the board hitting Inkie and turning into splinters, but Inkie dodges and stands in the middle of the arena. As the minotaur charges at her again, she cowers and rolls between her opponent’s legs. She recovers quickly, being in an ideal position to kick the confused minotaur in the ass...

Except she doesn’t. She waits for La Matanza to turn to her, and dodges another blow, which could’ve probably grind her into the ground. Unfazed by the fact that the minotaur’s fist can make holes in rocks, she dodges punch after punch, never trying to strike back.

The ponies from seats next to the arena decide to move higher – I’m not surprised since a running minotaur has quite a lot of momentum and can’t just stop on a dime.

“Come on!” Ruby yells from her seat. “Destroy her!”

Next to her, Diamante shouts something similar in Caballo. I wonder if they at least support the same wrestler. Even if they don’t, it doesn’t seem to affect their newly-formed friendship.

Inkie dodges another punch and stands in the corner of the arena. Her fur is drenched in sweat; I can see it even from my seat. She’s panting heavily and I don’t think she can continue like this for too long. La Matanza seems a bit tired too, though it’s hard to say under all that leather and chains.

The audience starts booing. I’m not surprised – they fight for, like, ten minutes already, and not a single blow landed on any of them. Or, in case of Inkie, it wasn’t even attempted.

“C’mon, Inkie!” I yell. “Kick her arse!”

La Matanza charges at Inkie, who runs away once again, jumping on the empty seat. The minotaur lands in debris of other seats, collapsing. She gets up angrily, watching Inkie.

“Me cago en la leche de tu puta madre!” she yells.

The crowd goes silent. Some mare on the other side faints. Daring Do makes notes so fast that I’m surprised that her pencil didn’t burst in flames.

Inkie stands straight and looks into the face of La Matanza. “Nopony insults my mother,” she says.

What happens next is so quick that I’m barely able to follow it. At one moment, Inkie was on the bench, then she was in mid-air, above the minotaur. A loud smack makes the audience wince when Inkie’s hind legs make contact with La Matanza’s face, using it as a springboard. She somersaults in the air and lands on her front legs, kicking her opponent’s arse with the hind ones.

La Matanza flies forward, destroying several rows of bleachers and landing in front of some old guy with a cane. The guy says something to her. She stands up slowly, but Inkie is already next to her. A buck to the stomach causes La Matanza to lean forward, looking like an oversized pocket knife. Which means that her face is in the right place for Inkie to kick.

The crowd cheers when the minotaur falls on her back. Inkie walks to her and pokes her with her hoof. La Matanza hits her hand against the ground three times, causing the crowd to erupt in cheering. Ruby and Diamante hug. Vinyl yells something to the microphone, but I barely can hear that. Lyra stands from her seat and walks to Perrito Calliente to shake his hoof.

“That was a great idea,” Calliente says. “Insulting her family makes her go crazy. But don’t rely on it too much, or else it’ll get boring.”

“Wait...” I mutter. “What idea?”

Lyra blushes. “Umm... Remember how this guy said that this fight is not gonna be staged?”

“Yeah,” I reply. “I didn’t like it.”

Calliente nods. “Candy and I didn’t like it either. So, together with Lyra, we staged this fight unofficially...”

I facehoof. “Couldn’t you tell me? I’d be much calmer, you know...”

“Vinyl wondered what your reaction would be,” Lyra says, smiling sheepishly.

“And I wonder if Vinyl wants to live without hind legs,” I mutter. “Also, Perrito is right, this gimmick is gonna get tired after two fights or so.” With these words, I walk down, to Inkie, who’s now helping La Matanza up.

“Congratulations,” I say. “To you too, La Matanza. You can now tell that you got your arse kicked by the strongest not-badass in the world.”

“Call me Candy,” the minotaur says. “Getting my ass kicked by all those good guys... Just my luck.”

“Come to Equestria one day.” I smile, trying to make my mane look like Twilight Sparkle’s. “We can redeem even the worst cunt in the world.”

“I’m not planning any turns right now,” Candy replies. “I mean–” She pauses, hearing Inmundo Rico’s voice. He’s apparently getting dramatic over something again.

“What do you mean when you say that you staged a fight?” he asks Lyra, nearly strangling her. “It was going to be unstaged!”

I shake my head and walk to them. Lyra is only slightly smarter than Vinyl, but I can’t let some idiot strangle her. Daring Do wouldn’t pay us then.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“I’ve heard everything!” Inmundo Rico twirls his moustache and tries to look menacing. “You staged a fight!”

“Listen, mate,” I say, pointing at the place where Diamante talks with Ruby. “Look at your daughter. Staged or not, she looks quite happy to me. That was the purpose, right?”

Inmundo Rico thinks for a moment. “You’re right. That was a great fight and Diamante really liked it. I’m glad to meet you and–”

“Okay, mate, enough of this,” I mutter. “You know where to bring the fuel, right? If not, Lyra and Inkie will gladly tell you. Now I have to get Ruby out of here.”

I walk to Ruby, who talks to Diamante and Cucharilla da Silva in some blend of Equine and Caballo. Damn, those kids are quick to learn languages. Or creating creoles, as Daring Do would say.

“I’m glad you found friends, but we have to go soon,” I tell Ruby, who makes puppy eyes. “You can always write letters to them...”

“But I don’t want to go...” Ruby lowers her head.

“And I don’t want your mom to drown me in a bottle of vodka for leaving you here,” I mutter. “Come on, we’ll visit Diamante on our way back.”

“Can’t we stay for two more days?” Ruby asks. “Diamante says that they have an interesting custom. You know, donkeys–”

Oh, fuck no. “We’re going now!” I exclaim, trying to levitate her. She dodges my magic and raises her hoof in an attempt to mimic an offensive gesture common among griffons and minotaurs. “Daring Do is calling us for an adventure, remember!”

Ruby raises her eyebrows. “I don’t get it... What is wrong in donkey racing?”

“Something must be,” I reply. “And now let’s go!”

It takes a while before we manage to leave the party. Getting Vinyl from behind the turntables was the most difficult part, especially since there were, like, two guys under them, actively helping her in fulfilling the dream of getting laid everywhere we go. At least Ruby doesn’t see it, since she’s busy helping Lyra finding Daring Do... or rather Perrito Calliente the Second.

Finally, we’re all in the street, along with a couple of alpacas pulling carts with our fuel. Ruby yawns. I levitate her on my back where she quickly falls asleep.

“One’d think she’s a cute kid when she doesn’t talk,” Vinyl says.

“Fuck off,” Ruby mutters in her sleep.

Vinyl sighs, levitating a cigarette. “Anyway, we need to go back there. There was that cute girl there... She was almost as callipygian as Octy.”

“I’d like to remind you that I had to pull some guy’s tongue out of your ass,” I mutter, hoping that Inkie isn’t listening. “Also, you made that word up, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t,” Vinyl replies, blowing smoke towards the alpacas pulling a cart. “I was once bored on the toilet and the only book in there was a dictionary.”

“By the way,” I say. “Stop smoking next to the cart full of fuel. Remember the exploding outhouse?”

“Please, I have a scar on my left cheek. Wanna see it?”

I say nothing, instead focusing on the view. The market stalls are closed, but apparently the ponies who weren’t invited to Diamante’s cuteceanera decided to make their own party – I can hear muffled singing from the nooks, as well as screams, moans, and sound of breaking bottles.

We’re getting close to the place where we left our plane, but the noises don’t stop. In fact, they only intensify.

“Something’s wrong,” Inkie says suddenly.

“You can tell it from that noise?” I ask.

“No, I just tripped over a pony in ninja suit, who looks like someone straightened him up with a monkey wrench.”

What? Oh shit. I walk to Inkie and take a look at the guy. He’s indeed wearing a ninja suit but it’s rather hard to learn anything more from him, mainly because he’s unconscious.

Luckily for us, a second later another ninja hits the ground right in front of us. He gets up and tries to run away, but Daring Do grabs him.

“What’s going on here?” she asks.

“She’s drunk!” he yells. “Drunk and dangerous!”

“Who?” Vinyl asks, but I already know the answer. I try to put Ruby on the ground, but she drops rather unceremoniously. Never mind. I run towards the plane, gesturing Inkie to follow me. After running for about hundred metres, I can already hear my mechanic’s sweet voice.

“Come on! Come at me, cocksuckers!” Hexie yells, standing between the plane and a bunch of ninjas. “Wanna end up like the previous one?”

One of the ninjas runs towards her – I’m pretty sure his friends pushed him. When he’s about to reach Hexie, she collapses like someone who had too much vodka. The ninja stops, confused, just to get a powerful buck to the side, which causes him to roll on the ground. Hexie stands up, staggering, and stares at her opponents.

“Hey, cunts!” she yells, throwing an empty bottle at them. “Why don’t you fight me all at once?”

“Bad idea,” I mutter, seeing as the ninjas stare at each other. Then they rush into an uncoordinated charge.

“We need to help her,” I say. “On one...”

Before I can say “two”, Inkie grabs the crystal gun from its holster and fires it at one of the ninjas, who drops to the ground clutching his balls.

“What?” Inkie says. “I’m not gonna wrestle someone again tonight.”

“Fair enough,” I reply, firing a spell at another ninja. Too bad this one is female and my spell only heats her privates.

She turns around. “Child care!” she yells in a strange accent. “To attack him from behind!”

“What?” I ask.

“You will be destroyed!”

“Okay, that I understand,” I mutter, teleporting to get behind her and kick her in the crotch.

“Aargh!” she cries. “You have to fight to clean!”

“I’d rather fight effective,” I mutter, jumping into the air and levitating myself to remain suspended for a little longer. That way, I can kick two ninjas at once.

“There’s only one thing we say to Death,” I say, landing swiftly on the ground. “Not to–” I’m not sure what happened, which means that I probably got a nunchaku to the back of the head.

“Below!” someone shouts behind me. Then I hear a smack.

“I’m pretty sure you wanted to say, ‘one down, two to go’,” Daring Do says, helping me up. “But there’s more of us...”

“I’m too old for this shit...” I mutter, blinking. As my vision clears, I realise that Daring and I are surrounded by at least ten ninjas.

“I’m forty-five,” Daring Do replies. “What’s your excuse?”

“Nevermind.” I fire a spell at the nearest ninja. As he grabs his balls, I introduce his companion to my left hook. Daring has it easier – she simply takes off and uses her hind legs to send another ninja into the world where he can dream about circling birds. Too bad my ninja just shrugs the punch off and tries to counterattack. I duck, headbutting him. My horn rips a hole in his black outfit, but at the same time he grabs me.

Deadlock, huh? In such situation, simple solutions are the best. I bite the guy’s hoof, causing him to let go off me. I jump back, right in time to bump into two ninjas approaching me from behind. At least I manage to buck them before they get what’s going on.

Meanwhile, my nemesis wipes blood off his hoof and, judging by his eyes, smirks under the mask. I met him only a few seconds ago and I already want to kill the guy. I stand on slightly bent legs, waiting for him to make the first move.

“A little help here?” Daring yells. Three ninjas hold her legs as she struggles to keep herself in the air.

My ninja only waits for that moment. He jumps into the air, aiming at my head. I only manage to tilt it slightly, causing his hoof to land on my shoulder, knocking the air out of me. I rush blindly, not waiting till he touches the ground. We both roll on the ground, while he tries to kick me. I smack him – nothing, still kicking. While he’s above me, my hind leg manages to find his balls – no sell. Is he a fucking cyborg?

As my dad says, when fighting dirty doesn’t work, fight dirtier. I grab the guy’s mask and pull it over his eyes. I’m immediately rewarded with a hoof to my nose, causing my vision to blur. I kick him off of me and roll on him.

“Minuette!” Hexie yells. I turn my head to her and see a bottle flying towards me. I grab it with my magic and, without losing momentum, I break it on the ninja’s head. Then I hold its remains close to his throat while choking him.

“Make a move,” I hiss, “and I’ll rip your trachea out...”

In one swift motion, he slides from under me, producing a long knife with sculpted blade from under his clothes. I start contemplating slow death from having my guts spilled on the ground, when something heavy falls on the ninja’s head.

“You good, auntie?” Ruby asks, smirking and poking the unconscious ninja. You know, there’s a limited amount of hits to the head you can take, and a filly jumping on you from an upper wing of a biplane is quite a lot, even from a guy who shrugs off a kick to the balls.

“Yeah.” I look around. Behind me, Inkie and Daring kick the crap out of the last of the ninjas who managed to grab Daring. The other two seem pretty unconscious to me. Hexie fights with two ninjas, while Vinyl and Lyra watch everything from the safe distance, occasionally throwing rocks and spells at ninjas.

“Stay in the plane,” I say to Ruby. “I’m gonna help Hexie.”

“Okay.” Ruby rolls her eyes. I levitate her to the plane’s door and run to my mechanic.

Hexie is standing in front of the ninjas, staggering slightly. When they run at her, she leans forward, as if she was going to fall down, but then she suddenly turns and slams her hind legs into the left guy’s side with a terrible sound of cracking ribs. Hexie then rolls on the ground, getting back on her hooves right in time to face the second ninja.

“Ready to die, you bastard!” the ninja shouts, reaching to some hidden pocket in his robe. I know what that move means so I ram into him just as he throws a shuriken at Hexie.

Hexie hisses, when the star pierces her hoof. She pulls it out with her teeth and looks at the ninja, who gets from the ground and backpedals, seeing the two of us.

“I was trying to be kind,” Hexie mutters, watching a small shuriken wound. “Even when that unconscious pierdolec tried the Quivering Hoof Technique on me... But now, I feel like testing the Quivering Hammer Technique on you...”

The ninja is apparently in the process of rethinking his life goals. After a few tense seconds, he decides to turn back and run away. As he’s running, I hear a snap. The ninja trips, rubs his butt and continues to run, limping, until he disappears between buildings.

“Hey, I got him!” Ruby exclaims, standing in the door of the plane and waving her BB gun.

“Ruby!” I yell.

“What? I was in the plane, like you told me.”

Lyra and Vinyl walk to us, watching the battlefield and nodding. Vinyl levitates the knife I almost got skewered with and smirks. “We shouldn’t have talked about ninjas,” she says. “We summoned them.”

“That, or Ahuizotl is spying on us,” Daring Do mutters, wrapping a bandage around her hoof.

“What were ninjas doing in Mexicolt?” I ask.

“Don’t ask me.” Hexie shrugs. “I was trying to get drunk and pass out when those guys appeared. I just showed them some of my best moves.”

“What if there are ninjas in every country and we only know about the Neighponese ones because they suck?” Ruby asks.

“We may think about it on our way to Maneaus,” I say, pointing at the unconscious ninjas. “We’d better refuel and get out of here before someone starts to question that.”

Daring Do nods and we walk to the alpacas to get the fuel.

Author's Note

Translation:

¡Métetelo por el culo! - I kindly suggest that you put your business in your rump.

La Matanza - A place where, according to an Iron Maiden song, you should bring your daughter.

¡Señorita! ¿Cerveza? - Do you want to buy a beer, madam?

Besa mi culo, puto. - Would you be so kind to plant a kiss on my hindquarters, person of questionable morals?

Pierdolec – a Polish way of referring to someone whose mental abilities may be doubtful. Actually rarely used in that context.

Me cago en la leche de tu puta madre! - I put the products of my metabolism in the milk of your mother, who wasn't the purest person in the world.

I don’t want to spend the rest of my life as a pair of eyeballs floating through multiverse.

“This can’t be,” I say, watching the neon. “I’d be less surprised if I went fishing and saw her body going down the river.”

“Well, it must be destiny,” Vinyl replies. “Anyway, there’s only one way to find out.” She trots across the street. “We need to pay an old friend a visit.”

Well, why not? Trixie, even with all her quirks, was definitely more refined than Vinyl, and, as far as I like Inkie and Hexie, one can mostly converse about mechanics, drinking, and rocks with them. It’ll be nice to talk with someone intellectual.

By the door of Trixie’s Funhouse, we’re greeted by a rather peculiar pair. One of them is a tall minotaur, who, I guess, Candy would like. Basically, a mass of muscles with an enormous battle axe. Not a petty toy, but a big piece of steel that’d cut you in half, bounce off the pavement, go back in time, and cut off your grandpa’s dick just before the roll in the hay with your granny.

In the shadow of the minotaur, there is a small silhouette which, upon closer look, turns out to be an alpaca. He’s wearing a blue shirt with a pattern resembling Trixie’s cutie mark, and a name tag that says “Paco”. Well, it’s the second Paco I know.

“I’ll do the talking,” I say, trotting to Paco the Second. “Hello. We want to see your boss.”

Paco says nothing, instead producing a piece of paper.

“The casino didn’t cheat you, and if you don’t believe us, Banana Split can prove it to you,” I read.

The minotaur bows and salutes us with his axe.

“I believe it’s a misunderstanding,” I say, slowly and clearly. “We’re friends of the owner of this place.”

Paco smiles and produces another piece of paper. “The Great and Powerful Trixie doesn’t have friends. They only want her money.”

“That’s sad,” Inkie mutters.

“Listen, mate.” I walk closer to Paco, keeping my eyes on the minotaur. “We’re the reason she has money in the first place. And if you grab yet another card, I’ll shove it up your ass so deep that you’ll finally learn to talk.”

Paco is unfazed. He grabs the file and after a short search, he produces another card.

I sigh and look at it. “Your threats are empty like your head. Banana Split will serve your head to The Great and Powerful Trixie on a silver platter.”

“Well, that’s kinda what I’m trying to achieve,” I reply. “Though, of course, I’d rather be in one piece and you can tell Trixie that she can bang herself with her silver platter, but you get the idea. Old amigos. Understood?”

This time, it takes Paco a while to process my statement. Eventually, he grabs another card, but before he shows it to us, he writes something on it.

“The Great and Powerful Trixie is currently away. She’s at...” In the blank space after “at”, words “the opera” are scribbled.

“What is she doing at the opera?” I ask. Knowing Trixie, she’s hiding behind her unnoticeability spell, pretending to be a ghost and wooing handsome singers.

This time, Paco grabs a card quickly. “The Great and Powerful Trixie is a proud supporter of any cultural event in town.”

I nod, raising my eyebrows. “Yeah, sure, mate.” I turn to my friends. “Okay, let’s take a walk to the opera and check if she’s there. But if Paco tells us bullshit...”

“I’m pretty sure Paco’s friend may consider it racist,” Inkie says. “And I’m bad at fighting minotaurs who have axes.”

“How do you know?” Ruby asks. “Did you ever fight one?”

“You’d never believe who we hired on the rock farm...”

Vinyl chuckles. “Judging by the fact that you hired Trixie and us, I can believe in pretty much everything.” She turns around dramatically. “Okay... Who’ll tell me where’s the opera?”

“You mean, that big building in the middle of the town?” Hexie asks. “I’ve seen it when we were landing. I’m pretty sure it’s like Palace of Culture and Science in Maresaw. You’re only lost when you can’t see it.”

“Well, we can see it,” Vinyl observes, proving that journeys make you wiser. She trots down the street, whistling some happy tune. We follow her, walking through the colourful district, consisting mostly of houses of rubber merchants, casinos, and bars. In Equestria, I’d probably say that the owners of those places are showing off. Here, I feel like I’m on vacation. Well, judging by the fact that Daring Do screwed us over, I probably am on vacation. I even put on my shutter shades.

“Do you think they have some souvenir shops here?” Inkie asks. “I need to send postcards to my parents, Maud, Pinkie, and Blinkie. And one to Coco, of course.”

“Meh,” Vinyl mutters. “I need a new hat. What hats do they have here?”

“You bought a sombrero in Mexicolt City,” I say.

“Yes, but it’s a hat from Mexicolt. Now I need something from here.” Vinyl shrugs. “Or maybe I’ll buy a machete, catch a crocodile, and make myself a hat? Or a purse?”

“I’m pretty sure Tree Hugger would make rolling paper out of your ass,” I mutter. “If the crocodile didn’t eat you first.”

“Well, the only problem the crocodile would have would be shitting the machete and sunglasses out.” Ruby chuckles.

I sigh. “What did I tell you about using such words?”

“That it’s fucking wrong to use them.” Ruby smiles in a way all the fillies do when they want to show how cute and innocent they are. “Also, I must’ve lost that lesson somewhere between you telling us what you think about the weather here, and what auntie Vinyl said about her ex.”

“What did I say about the weather here?” I ask. “Or don’t tell me. I can imagine.”

“Which one?” Vinyl raises her sunglasses. “Which of my exes?”

“The one who was a sailor and when the mast of his yacht broke, he tied the jib to his dick and managed to sail to the port.”

“Aah, this one.” Vinyl smirks. “It’s not an exaggeration. Not in the slightest...”

“By looking at Rumble or Pipsqueak, I’d doubt it,” Ruby says. “Button Mash, on the other hoof...”

“That’s not something I wanted to know.” I facehoof. “Also, be sure not to say that around your mom.”

“Of course not. I don’t want my own mother to steal him from me...” Ruby mutters.

“I meant a grievous bodily harm with a bottle,” I say, trying not to imagine Berry with a colt in her daughter’s age. I’m pretty sure a poor boy would rather run away, if he wasn’t killed instantly by an ethanol aura.

Luckily, our conversation is interrupted by the sight of the opera house – a large, salmon-coloured building with big balconies on each side, resting on arcades. Each of its many windows is framed with white marble. On the top of it, there’s a colourful dome which, frankly, looks on the rest of the building like a party hat on a Saddle Arabian ambassador.

“Let’s see what they’re playing...” Vinyl goes up the stairs leading towards the shadowed arcades.

Suddenly, halfway through the stairs, I hear a familiar voice. However, it doesn’t belong to Trixie.

“I swear, this story from Prance must be bollocks. Imagine, dating a musician who lives in the basement...”

Well, shit. I look at Vinyl, but it’s too late. She already recognised it and started to run up the stairs.

Seeing that I have no influence on the further events, I turn to Hexie. “Wanna bet that–”

“I’m not betting about obvious things,” Hexie says.

“Yeah, but I meant... Ten bits for a right hook.”

Hexie smirks. “Ten bits for a left uppercut. How about you, Inkie?”

Inkie looks at Vinyl, who is currently running towards the arcades, screaming “Tavi!”. “Ten bits for a roundhouse applebuck. But it won’t be too strong.”

“A sophisticated kick,” I mutter, watching the grey mare walking from between the arcades. “I don’t think that’s likely.”

Ruby smirks. “What if they start fucking?”

“That’s an obvious thing,” Hexie says. “Sooner or later, this will happen.”

“Tavi!” Vinyl yells, running to Octavia, who watches her with an expression one has when they watch a moderately interesting argument between neighbours. Suddenly, Octavia stands on her front legs, turns back and kicks Vinyl in the face with her hind legs – as far as I know, at only a quarter of her usual strength. Well, if she used full strength, the dust and paper scraps filling Vinyl’s head would probably fly to us. Instead, Vinyl simply loses her glasses and lands on her ass.

“You!” Octavia screams. “After all this things I did without you... I even stopped taking drugs after I left you! Now I’ll start taking them again!”

I run to them in case any further beating followed. Vinyl may be an idiot, but she’s my idiot and if someone ever kills her, it’ll be me.

Vinyl stands up and cleans her coat from dust. “Tavi, sweetheart, what are you doing here?” She puts her sunglasses on. “I didn’t expect you here...”

“Hold me, or I’ll throw her into the bloody river and hold till bubbles stop coming out!” Octavia exclaims. This prompts her companion – a blue mare from Canterlot whose name, if I recall correctly, is Beauty Brass – to walk from the shades and catch her.

“Why so serious?” I ask.

Octavia raises her hoof, pointing at Vinyl. “I... I changed my whole life and now she’s here... Again! First on the ship and now... In the bloody Maneaus, thousands of miles from Equestria! She’ll never stop haunting me!”

“Chill out, Tavi...” Vinyl says, smiling. “I’m pretty sure we can–”

“No, we can’t!” Octavia replies. “I’m with Beauty Brass now!” She kisses the blue mare, who backpedals, but only slightly.

Vinyl smiles widely. “You know what it means?” She walks to Octavia. “We can now have threesomes!”

“You hit her too hard,” I mutter to Octavia. “She got brain damage.”

“She was always like that,” Octavia replies, dodging Vinyl. “Okay, Vinyl, if you don’t want to leave, then I’m leaving. Fare thee well, friend.” She turns back and walks into the opera, towing Beauty Brass behind.

“She seems serious,” Hexie mutters. “Okay, but there are more serious things here.” She turns to Inkie and produces ten bits from the harness she carries her tools in. “How did you know about the applebuck?”

“A cellist right before a concert will rather protect her hind hooves,” Inkie replies. “And she wouldn’t hit her that strong because they still love each other...”

“Yeah, or she’d rather avoid being arrested right before the concert,” I mutter, grabbing ten bits and giving them to Inkie. “Now, before Vinyl realises that she just got dumped, we’d better go find Trixie.”

“Yeah...” Ruby sighs. “But how do we get inside?”

I look at the small door hidden in the shadows under the arcades. “Since you’re a little filly, you’ll stand here and look somewhere else while auntie Minuette will open that crappy lock in about thirty seconds.”

Exactly thirty two seconds later, we’re walking down a narrow, dark corridor, full of weird stuff, such as old musical instruments, bleached outfits, dull swords, and fake skulls.

“Hey, Minuette!” Vinyl exclaims. “I’m a pirate!”

I turn to her to see that she’s wearing an eyepatch and levitating a cutlass. Seems that she went into denial.

“I’m gonna get Tavi back on my ship!”

Or maybe not. I take the cutlass from her. “You’ll hurt yourself first.”

“Give it back.” Vinyl grabs the cutlass. “I need to storm the enemy’s fortress!” She runs up the corridor. Having no other choice, we follow her.

Suddenly, a loud, upbeat music starts playing. It’s getting louder as we advance, quite heavy on strings. Vinyl reaches the top of steep stairs and disappears. I’m not sure where, but I’m pretty sure she’ll soon do something stupid.

Panting, I reach the top of the stairs and take a look at the room in front of me. Or rather, the whole damn stage. Vinyl is there, fighting with a couple of ponies who are also dressed like pirates. All of them use the typical opera style of sword fighting: wide swings, aiming at each other’s swords, to make much noise without actually hurting anyone. In front of the fighting pirates, some guy dressed like an idiot is dragging a mare somewhere. Both are singing in Neightalian – as far as I know, it’s some duet for tenor and soprano.

I decide to move forward, crawling behind the scenography. I need to reach Vinyl – she just kicked one of the pirates in the stomach and I’m pretty sure it wasn’t in the script.

Suddenly, the music changes to a low-pitched organ riff, almost deafening me. A fat guy with an obviously fake red beard enters the stage, facing the tenor. He draws a cutlass, but instead of cutting the audacious lad to ribbons, he starts singing an aria in basso buffo.

“Vinyl!” I shout, but my voice drowns in music. Meanwhile, the guys in the front start fighting: the red-bearded bloke pushes the tenor towards the stairs. Of course, they’re both singing.

“Vinyl, for fuck’s sake...” I can hardly hear myself. What’s worse, Ruby followed me to the stage, steals a jezail from one of the fake pirates and tries to fire it at the ceiling, possibly to attract everyone’s attention. Unfortunately, the jezail is as fake as the pirate wielding it.

Wait, did I say “unfortunately”? This thing is longer than Ruby; if she shot it, the recoil would break her hoof, not to mention that the bullet would probably cause the ceiling to collapse.

While I’m trying to reach Vinyl without attracting anyone’s attention, the duel at the top of the stairs reaches its climax. The tenor stands on the railing and decides to run from his opponent in a typical way, that is by jumping to a chandelier and sliding down. The jumping part looks well – he managed to grab a conveniently close thing, but instead of sliding down to his heroine, he just hangs there, looking down like an idiot.

The orchestra stops playing. The singer on the chandelier rips his clothes apart, revealing a pair of wings and flies down on the stage.

“What’s going on?” some moron in a suit yells, entering the scene. “Why is the chandelier still there?”

“Umm...” Hexie emerges from the backstage, holding a screwdriver in her mouth. She spits it out and continues, “The rope holding the chandelier looked like it was about to break, so I secured it a bit...”

“And who the hell are you?” The moron, who is probably the director, turns to the audience. It’s not very numerous: just a few ponies in impossibly expensive clothes. “Is she working here?”

Nopony replies, probably for the simple reason that they all only speak Ponytuguese. However, I easily notice that one of the mares in the audience, hidden in the shadows, is staring at Hexie with wide eyes.

I decide to step up. “Excuse me,” I say. “I believe we accidentally took a wrong turn and ended up on the scene.”

The actors, musicians, and the audience look at me. What the hell? Do they expect me to sing a song about that? After a moment I realise that they’re looking at Vinyl, who’s standing in the middle of a circle of unconscious pirates. Apart from an eyepatch and a cutlass, she now also has a bandana on her head, a leather vest, and a pair of striped sirwal trousers.

“Yo-ho-ho and the bottle of rum?” Vinyl asks.

The rich ponies from the audience start talking to each other. All, except of the mare who is hiding her face in her hooves.

Inkie walks to me. “We’d better hurry,” she whispers. “When they stop thinking we’re dumb, they’ll call the guards.”

“Oh yeah,” I mutter. “That’s what this place needs: further escalation.”

“Hey, one of those important bitches is going here.” Ruby swings the jezail. “Are we running away?”

Indeed, the mare is going to us. She’s wearing an impossibly frilly, cherry-coloured dress and a sophisticated hat in a similar colour. Despite that, I’m pretty sure who she is.

The director runs to her. “Ms. Lulamoon, I’m going to fix this ri–”

“TRIXIE IS NOT GOING TO STOP FINANCING THE OPERA, YOU ANNOYING, DESPICABLE WRETCH!” She pushes the poor wanker away and trots to us. “Olá amigos. What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you,” Vinyl replies, saluting Trixie with the cutlass. Inkie, Hexie, and Ruby join us. “A dude in your casino showed us a card saying that you’re here.”

“Paco?” Trixie asks. “Of course. But how did you know it was Trixie’s casino?”

I look into her eyes. “A huge-ass neon isn’t exactly subtle, you know.”

Trixie scratches her head. “Maybe. Anyway, Trixie knows she’s gonna regret it, but she’s glad to see you. You!” She turns to the director. “Trixie thinks it was a truly magnificent performance. But now she’ll have to leave.” With this words, she throws a smoke bomb on the stage, allowing us to escape through the backstage. Well, most of us, since she trips over her dress just before leaving.

“Trixie swears, those clothes will kill her one day...” she mutters, walking down the stairs with us.

“Don’t you think your reputation here will suffer after exiting the stage like that?” I ask.

“Oh please.” Trixie rolls her eyes. “Trixie appeared here two years ago with a case full of money and became one of the most important ponies in town. The locals think Trixie’s a gypsy princess or something. Trixie’s supposed to be eccentric.”

“Isn’t it another word for ‘retarded’?” Ruby asks. “Because that’s what Silver Spoon said about Dinky when she put crayons in her–”

“No, it’s not.” I reply. “It’s ‘weird’, but only if the weird pony is rich.”

“Oh, so I kicked Silver Spoon and stole her glasses for no reason.” Ruby sighs.

“I’m pretty sure there was some life lesson for you behind that,” Inkie says.

“Yes. Diamond Tiara has a mean right hook and it’s not wise to fuck with her friends.”

Hexie shakes her head. “Kids today... Back in my days we were throwing bricks at kids we didn’t like...”

We walk out of the opera and trot towards the Trixie’s Funhouse. The ponies we meet on our way often smile and bow at Trixie. Seems that the owner of the best watering hole in town is treated with a great respect here.

“So, how did you end up in Maneaus?” Trixie asks.

“Daring Do fucked us over,” Vinyl replies.

“Yeah, right. And Trixie made Prancy Drew squeal like a little bitch...”

“We’re serious here,” I say. “Like, dead serious.”

“Trixie is serious too.” Trixie shrugs. “She just conjured a lot of candies.” Trixie looks at us and raises her eyebrows. “What? Prancy is a filly, what did you think?”

“Nothing in particular,” Ruby mutters. “You can conjure candies?”

Trixie smirks. “Of course. But Trixie needs a cardboard box and two mirrors.” She waves her hoof. “But enough about this. What exactly happened that caused you to grace Trixie with your presence?”

“Daring Do hired us to get her here,” Inkie replies. “But after we arrived, she dumped us and went into the jungle with Lyra.”

“More or less,” Vinyl adds. “Apparently we’re free to drink, play, and fuck as much as we want.” She walks to Trixie and wraps her hoof around her. “And since you apparently own the best place in this town where we can do so...”

Trixie shakes Vinyl’s hoof off of herself. “Destruction!” she exclaims. “Inflagration! Defenestration! Do you think Trixie doesn’t know what calamities follow you?”

Inkie walks to Trixie. “Don’t worry. If something starts going wrong, I’ll knock Vinyl down. Trust me.”

Trixie shrugs. “Fine. But if my empire gets burned, you’ll see the wrath of The Great and Powerful Trixie!”

Well, damn. When the zebras blew out her carriage, she nearly caused the end of the world, so if we do something to her precious casino... I don’t want to spend the rest of my life as a pair of eyeballs floating through multiverse.

While I think about the consequences of our meeting, we approach Trixie’s Funhouse. Paco bows and the minotaur salutes Trixie with his axe.

“Those are Trixie’s special guests,” Trixie says to Paco. “Do what they say, as long as it’s reasonable.”

Paco nods. Trixie opens the door and leads us inside.

I always liked the idea that the way a pony decorates their house tells a lot about them. My house is pretty simple and shows my hobbies: clocks, hourglasses, various tools... Inkie also prefers simplicity; her room at the Sugarcube Corner is furnished only with a bed, a closet, and some shelves with books, photos of Coco, and rare rocks. Even the punching bag is usually hidden somewhere.

Meanwhile, the interior of Trixie’s Funhouse is... well, remember Aryanne and her vagina-like rooms? Here, instead of pink, we have gold, red, columns, arcs... all the stuff mixed together, as if an enormous clown swallowed a whole circus with a side order of a Minotaurian temple and a tall glass of a medieval castle, and threw it all up. Everything is bigger and more decorative than it needs to be. And it’s just the corridor.

“How do you like it?” Trixie asks. “We’ll go to your rooms first. How do you fancy king-sized beds with curtains and a fridge full of champagne?”

“As long as I don’t share it with Vinyl,” I mutter.

Ruby shudders. “May I get a closet instead?”

Oh. Remember what I said about rooms? Well, Ruby’s room is usually dark and filled with rather unusual souvenirs and books you wouldn’t expect a filly to know or enjoy. Her actual bed serves as an additional shelf, while she sleeps in a closet, wrapped in her sleeping bag. Interestingly, when I had to take care of Ruby for some time and let her sleep in a guest room, she hid in the closet anyway. She almost gave me a heart attack – I thought she ran away and got herself sold to the circus or something.

Anyway, Ruby’s question is met with silence. Trixie leads us upstairs, through floors full of casinos, smoking rooms, dancing halls, and something that looks like a small, discreet brothel. On the top of the building there are a few hotel rooms, so we promptly get our stuff from the plane and put it there. A quick lunch and a shower later, we’re ready to delve into debauchery. Or rather, most of us are – Ruby yawns and grabs her sleeping bag.

“I’m gonna wait for you with hangover meds,” she mutters. “They won’t let me into the casino anyway.”

“Okay. Have fun,” I say before going downstairs.

It’s late afternoon and the casino slowly fills with ponies. Vinyl, being a crude moron, lights up a cigarette and walks to the fruit machines. Interestingly, Hexie also goes there – someone should tell her that messing with the machine is not a valid tactic.

I, being more sophisticated, walk to the bar, where I anesthetize myself with a few cups of whisky and soda. Then, staggering more than I feel like, I walk to the blackjack table.

“Hello, baby.” I blink at the dealer, a bluish alpaca with a short beard. “I always wondered how you play this game...”

I listen to his explanations with one ear, carefully observing the way he deals the cards. My mind slowly fills with numbers. Two, four, and six is two, five is three. Seven is one, eight is zero... Nine is minus one, everything else is minus two. Six decks, minus twelve. Time to bet... or not.

Few minutes later, I have quite a few more chips on me. You know, I’d probably get rich much earlier, but Berry Punch is bad at maths. Not to mention that I had no money for a trip to Las Pegasus in the first place.

A few wins later, Trixie walks to me. “Excuse me,” she whispers. “Do you know what happened to the last guy who was caught counting cards?”

“Should I?” I ask, assessing how many cards are left in the deck.

“They called him Three-Legged Trapaceiro. After a motivational talk with Banana Split, he’s called Two-Legged Trapaceiro.” Trixie nods towards the door, where the minotaur is standing with his axe.

“Oh, I see,” I mutter. “I didn’t feel like playing blackjack today anyway, you know...” I stand up and walk to the bar, where Inkie sips a beer slowly.

“How’s the situation?” I ask her.

“Vinyl is now losing her life savings in roulette,” Inkie replies. “And Hexie cracked the slot machine, but Trixie’s gonna find out soon.”

“So, we’re gonna be broke by the end of the night,” I mutter, looking around. Suddenly, my eyes fall on a poker table. “Wait... Your sister can tell the future from cards, right?”

“Pinkie?” Inkie shrugs. “She usually uses the crystal ball.”

“How about you?” I ask. “Can you at least see what cards the others have by looking at yours?”

“No.” Inkie looks at me unsurely. “But I can play poker if that’s where you’re going.”

“You can?” I ask. “How so?”

Inkie rolls her eyes. “It’s not like the only entertainment on the rock farm is tipping rocks,” she says. “I was able to win with Maud. Maud.”

I nod. “That’s the spirit. Don’t you think those two over there look a bit bored?” I point at the table. A mare in a fancy dress and a young stallion in a uniform sit at it, staring blankly at each other.

Inkie finishes her beer. Bad sign – it’s actually more than enough to get her buzzed. “Let’s see what we can do with that,” she says.

We walk to the table. “Hello,” I say. “Wanna play.”

“Sure,” the uniformed unicorn replies. I’m not sure what kind of army he is in. His accent, although hardly noticeable sounds familiar. Also, what kind of an officer has hearts as his insignia? He may as well be a stripper.

“The officer is on his way from Maregentina,” the mare in a dress says.

“That explains everything,” I mutter. “How about you, ma’am?”

“Oh, I am a movie star,” she replies. “I played in Filly Burlesks.”

“I remember it.” Inkie smiles. “It was made, like, sixty years ago... But if I recall correctly, it starred only kids...” It takes Inkie a while to put two and two together. “Oh...”

“Don’t worry.” The mare takes a long sip of her vodka. “I used to be a sweet filly...” She hiccups.

“Never mind,” the Officer mutters. “Who are you two and what brings you to Maneaus?”

“Test flight, actually,” I reply. “I’m teaching young Inclination–”

“Incredentia.” Inkie sighs. “If you really need to use my full name, it’s ‘Incredentia’.”

“–young Inkie how to fly,” I finish.

“Fly?” The Officer shrugs. “I hardly can see any wings here...”

“Science does wonders,” I mutter. “But we didn’t come here to talk. Time to play!”

We sit at the table. The Fallen Movie Star currently owns the button, so the Officer needs to post the small blind.

“As Snowdrop says, ‘what is wrong with a small blind?’” I chuckle, tossing a few chips on the table. Judging by the looks the other give me, old jokes are not allowed here.

I’m given two cards, so I take a look. Well, it’s gonna be a ride. Six of clubs and seven of diamonds.

“Call,” the Star mutters.

The Officer chuckles. “Raise.”

I give him a nasty look. “Call,” I mutter through gritted teeth.

“Call.” Inkie’s face doesn’t move even a little.

The Star sighs and downs her drink. “Fold.”

The Officer checks. Since all our bets are even, the dealer puts the flop on the table. An ace of clubs. A changeling queen smiling at me from a queen of spades. Both accompanied by a humble seven of spades.

Pair of sevens. Could be worse, but I’m pretty sure it could be better. Let’s see how are the Officer’s nerves.

“Raise,” the Officer says. That bastard!

I stare into his eyes and grab my chips. “Raise.”

“Fold.” Inkie shudders. It seems that we scared the girl.

The officer doesn’t even bat an eye. “Call.”

Fourth card, huh? Fine. Let’s see what– Aww, shit. Nine of hearts. I’m still all alone with my pair of sevens.

“Check.” the Officer smiles. How come his teeth are whiter than his coat?

No risk no fun. I raise and this blonde piece of shit, of course, calls.

“I see you’ll have to show me what you’ve got, Ms...”

“Turner,” I reply. “Pair of sevens.”

“Oh. What a shame,” the Officer smirks, showing me the ten of diamonds and an ace of hearts. “Pair of aces, Ms. Turner.” He levitates a stack of chips towards himself. “How about a small revenge?”

“Always,” I say.

This time, I give a small blind, while Inkie ups it with a big blind. King of clubs and queen of diamonds. A few bets later, six of spades, jack of diamonds, and three of hearts lie on the table, which means I’m thoroughly fucked again. Despite that, I’m waiting for the fourth card, as does everyone. Six of diamonds.

The Officer clicks his tongue. “As my father said in Stalliongrad: there’s no way we’re losing this. Everyone remembers what happened then. Fold.”

I was going to fold too, but screw that. I still have a small chance to win with this fucker.

A minute later, an eight of hearts tells me that I was wrong. My pair of sixes has no chance even with Inkie and her two pairs of sixes and threes. However, the Fallen Star apparently got two tens as her starting hoof. She celebrates that with downing another drink.

“It seems that our duel is still going, Ms. Turner.” the Officer nods.

“If you want a quickie, ask Vinyl,” I mutter.

“As my mother said: there’s nothing better than a family feud over cards,” Inkie says.

“What does it have to do with anything?” the Fallen Star asks.

“Cards.” Inkie shrugs. I shouldn’t have let her have a second beer.

After the first three cards are put on the table, I’m left with a humble pair of fives. Screw that, I’m gonna do something dumb. After a few raises, I manage to make the buzzed ex-actress fold. The turn turns out to be another five. Three of a kind? Not bad. Raise.

Inkie hiccups. “As my father once said: fold now or you’ll dig rocks for a week. Fold.”

“How about you, officer?” I ask, not even trying to hide a triumphant smile.

“As my general said: if the enemy seems more insane than you, it’s time to retreat. Fold.”

I laugh, grabbing the chips. “Okay, but I’m still not done with you, mate. Another round?”

“I’m sorry, but I will have to pass,” the Officer replies. “I have a ship to Manegascar tomorrow.”

“Too bad,” I mutter. “Inkie?”

Inkie burps.

“Okay, I get the idea. In case someone asks, I’ll be outside, getting some fresh air.” I stand up and walk through the room. Then I trot downstairs, deciding to explore the other parts of Trixie’s Funhouse.

If I recall correctly, there’s a small pub in the back of the basement. It’s my kind of place – it even has a separate exit so you can go inside without attracting the attention of Paco and his axe-wielding friend. There’s beer for all the world here, the bartender is a snarky mare who swears like a sailor, and the bouncer is a short mule – if he survived two years in a place like that, he must be tougher than he looks.

I don’t even manage to get to the bar when someone pats my back. In such a place it may be a good sign – if someone didn’t like me outright, they’d simply stab me. But on the other hoof it may mean I’m fucked in a whole different way.

I turn around and my worst predictions come true. In front of me there’s a tall, muscular bat pony mare whose face looks like it was used as a dartboard. She reeks of beer, but it doesn’t seem to slow her down. I’m pretty sure the amount of muscles under her skin can’t be contained by as few drops of alcohol. However, the most important detail of her anatomy at the time is her ear. Or rather, a half of it – the other half stayed in Fillydelphia where it has probably been eaten by seagulls. What worsens my situation is that the uneven edge of the scar matches my teeth exactly.

“Wild Hunt,” I say, looking for something heavy enough to slow her down and give the bouncer time to reach us. “Long time no see. What are you doing in Maneaus?” I chuckle nervously.

“You,” Wild Hunt growls. “When I got outta the hospital, I wanted to kill you for this...” She points at her ear. Not sure what’s her problem – it’s hardly noticeable when compared to the scar that looks like someone tried to carve her right eye out but resigned after two thirds. But on the other hoof, I don’t know what she did to those guys.

“Listen to me!” Wild Hunt yells. “I heard you kicked the bucket after your friends busted you outta the ER. I clopped in the loo for the whole night after hearing that...”

“Too much information,” I mutter, wondering if I could levitate the table behind her without anypony noticing.

Wild Hunt grabs my arms. “Then I heard you were alive and how you fucked della Morte over...”

Oh yeah. I even got a letter from Nosferatu des Grauen in which he thanked me for helping him in taking over Las Pegasus after della Morte got arrested. He even forgave me for sending Cherry Berry to him – even though she apparently wrecked the shit of some of his guards.

“I wanted to go to you and rip your trachea out, but then I got relocated here,” Wild Hunt continues. “You know what happened?” She leans closer to me. “Turns out, guys here fucking dig scars...”

“W-what?” I raise my eyebrows.

“Thanks to you, I’m the hottest stuff around,” Wild Hunt replies, patting my mane. “You’re an alright cunt, if I ever met one...”

“So... We’re cool?”

“Cool like that bugger who did that...” Wild Hunt points at the scar around her eye.

“I guess it must’ve hurt...” I mutter, not sure yet how dead I am.

“Meh. Not really.” She raises her hoof, showing me a round scar. “Stray lawn darts, on the other hoof, are a bitch.” She chuckles. “Let’s go for a drink.”

Three drinks later, we’re besties. We spend some time bickering about damaged ears and broken ribs, then there comes time for news.

“So...” I try to focus on the glass in front of me. “What are you doing here?”

“One of the local rubber tycoons borrowed lots of cash from my boss to start a business,” Wild Hunt replies. “The boss suspected that this wanker was trying to fuck us, so he sent Symphony to look after him.”

Symphony? Last time I checked, this kid was more interested in parties than straightening up mafia’s clients.

“Then he sent me and Tyluan to look after Symphony,” Wild Hunt says. “Boss wants his daughter to be independent, but within reason.”

Tyluan? Sounds familiar. Oh, yeah. Last time we met, I was trying to molest him, so he locked me in a coffin. Fun times.

Just like now. Seven drinks later, I catch myself trying to count them, but then there are... two... eighteen... seven... three... some more. Like, it’s hard to be aware of the surrounding events as well as their continuity when the amount of ethanol in one’s system begins to overcome the certain threshold after which nothing is the same anymore and, scientifically speaking, weird shit starts to happen. Due to aforementioned situation, when a continuous blur of stuff happening in my vicinity decelerates and sharpens a bit, it’s the middle of the night, we’re in some dark nook, and I’m holding my tail in my mouth.

After a while, my brain slowly brings a memory that I usually keep my tail there when I need to take a leak in a hardly convenient place. Yeah, I guess I can’t hold it back anymore, so I let it go.

Damn. That must’ve been a ridiculously stupendous quantity of beer. Listening to the flow, I make a mental note to grab some water – considering the combination of my inebriation and dehydration, a hot day may result in my expiration. Which would be a damn bad situation.

I look around and notice Wild Hunt staring at me. “You’re gross,” I mutter.

“Hey, it was you who said that you wouldn’t make it to the loo,” Wild Hunt replies, chuckling as the puddle on the pavement almost reaches her hooves.

I shrug, using my magic to dry my nether regions. It’s entirely possible, although most unicorns prefer to use toilet paper, as if magic could be contaminated. “You know, I was always wondering... When bat ponies hang upside-down, can they pee?”

Wild Hunt hits her face with her hoof. “Well, it’s kinda like wetting your bed...”

“You mean, it’s a cultural equivalent of involuntary urination during the night?”

“Whatever. It’s generally possible. Like, all the pipes are put together in such a way that it doesn’t get in your face.”

I laugh, trying to imagine that. “You must be friggin’ kidding me. How is that even possible?”

“No, really. Evolution or other shit.”

“Show me,” I mutter.

“With you watching?” Wild Hunt winces. “No way.”

I smirk and shake my head. “Hey, you were watching me!”

She sighs. “Fine. But don’t tell anyone.” She flies to a pipe above us and catches it with her tail. Then she changes her position, spreading her wings to swing slightly as she spreads her hind legs.

“Whoa...” I mutter. That’s some impressive distance, especially since she’s able to maintain it even as the pressure drops. “Can you do your name?”

“Only in winter and definitely not here,” Wild Hunt replies. She lands on the only dry fragment of the street and compares the puddles. “Mine is bigger. You owe me a drink.”

“Actually, I don’t want to drink more,” I mutter. “It’s bad when I feel like I just did dumber stuff than Vinyl...”

“Okay,” Wild Hunt replies. “I think I know the place where we can have a break.”

We walk down the street. It’s even further away from Trixie’s place than the opera, hidden in a labyrinth of nooks and cul-de-sacs. The building we’re heading to seems to be a provisional construction which, just like all such temporary solutions to a shortage in real estate department, survived way beyond the initial assumptions of the constructors.

It stands at the end of the street with a grace of a cancerous tumour, slowly metastasising to the neighbouring parcels – a mass of bamboo, sheet metal, wood, and mud from the river that were layered onto one another to the point when a single lightning may give it sentience.

Wild Hunt walks to it and pushes the door, which looks like it’s going to fall apart from a gust of wind. We don’t even manage to walk inside, when a pony emerges from the shadows. A large, brown mass of muscles, even bigger from Wild Hunt. A crew cut and an outfit made of silver nails and enough leather to make Fluttershy rip the unfortunate owner apart.

“Oh, it’s you,” the pony says with a strong, local accent. I slowly realise that it’s the biggest mare I’ve ever seen. She looks at me. “See that you finally found a date...” She chuckles and pats my back, nearly breaking my spine. “You know, Wild Hunt, once you go filly...”

“Shut up, Diesel,” Wild Hunt mutters, dragging me inside.

“Wild Hunt,” I whisper as we walk through darkness and smoke of the interior. “It’s a sketchy lesbian bar...”

“So? They have great rice and beans.”

“I’m straight...”

“Me too,” Wild Hunt shrugs. “Nopony’s perfect.”

“I don’t know why, but for some reason, lesbians find me attractive and I don’t want things to get awkward,” I mutter. I’m fully aware that Inkie (when she was young and naive) and a group of ponies known collectively as Vinyl Scratch and Her Gay Company aren’t a big enough sample, but still.

Wild Hunt rolls her eyes. “Look at me and ask yourself a question: would you try to steal a girlfriend from me?” She smirks. “Didn’t think so.”

“The bouncer may try...”

“Pardal das Colinas Verdes, also known as Diesel?” Wild Hunt chuckles. “She’s happily married to the barmare.” She points at a diminutive mare behind the bar.

“Okay, I guess that leaves only ponies deprived of self-preservation instinct–” I pause, seeing a pony who definitely fulfills my definition. Vinyl is sitting on a bar stool, smoking something that definitely doesn’t contain tobacco. Next to her there’s Inkie, who seems as drunk as I was just a few minutes ago, when we were peeing in the nook. Which means she probably had her third beer.

“So, let me get this straight,” Vinyl says. “You got married when you were nineteen. Don’t you think that’s kinda like leaving the party before 10 PM?”

Inkie hiccups. “Parties get dangerous after 10 PM...”

“Yeah, but, y’know, you didn’t even read the menu and just chose the first thing on the menu, which happened to be spinach.”

“I like spinach...” Maybe it’s accidental, but Inkie is flexing her muscles. Maybe she’s not stronger than Wild Hunt or Diesel, but definitely faster.

I decide to intervene. “Vinyl, you insufferable moron,” I mutter, standing next to her. “You don’t get a girl drunk and then compare her wife to spinach.”

“Shut up,” Vinyl replies. “I’m drunk and my marefriend dumped me.”

Well, shit. We apparently went from denial to... hmm, anger? Bargaining? Mix of both? Vinyl being an idiot?

“Yes, but trying to pick up Inkie won’t help,” I reply. “It’ll only get you more bruises. Especially when Coco hears about that.”

I’m not kidding. Fucking with Coco may result in a long and painful death, mainly because with Coco’s strength, it’d take her a few days to seriously injure anyone. But if she was determined enough...

“Yeah, but I’m just trying to tell Inkie that she made a mistake,” Vinyl says. “And there’s only one way to fix this, that is, by going with me to the hotel and–” She’s rather rudely interrupted by Inkie’s hoof, knocking her off the stool.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t listen to this crap,” Inkie mutters, showing that she’s, indeed, drunk.

“What is it?” Vinyl gets off the ground. “National ‘Let’s Punch Vinyl’ Day?”

“I’ll punch you too if you don’t go back to the hotel and sleep,” I say. Suddenly, I sense some powerful presence behind me.

“Do you have a problem?” Diesel asks in a tone suggesting that all the problems in the world may be solved by kicking us all through the wall.

“I have a problem since I was ten.” I point at Vinyl. “It sits there.”

Judging by the fact that a second later the bar gains a Vinyl-shaped hole in the door, Diesel has no sense of humour. Or maybe her Equine is worse than I thought.

“We’d better go and help her,” I tell Wild Hunt. “It was nice to meet you, but I’d rather call it a night.”

Inkie and I walk out of the bar to fish Vinyl out from mud. As we do so, another guest approaches the bar. Led by instinct, Diesel trots to him.

“No males!” She pushes the poor guy against the wall. “Unless you’re a tranny, but I doubt it.”

I’m too busy looking for Vinyl’s glasses in a layer of mud that probably remembers Celestia’s first heat, but when the guy finally says something, I recognise him instantly.

“I’m only looking for a friend...”

“Tyluan!” I exclaim. “Long time no see, sexy beast...”

He’s so surprised that he somehow manages to slip from Diesel’s grasp. “Minuette! It’d be nice to see you sober for once...”

“Let’s go, Inkie,” I say. “And yes, Wild Hunt is there, mate. Deal with it.”

Inkie looks at Tyluan, who is again pushed against the wall by Diesel. She carries Vinyl on her back. “I think you’re too harsh for him,” she says. “He saved our lives once.”

“Maybe.” I shrug. “Hey, Diesel, don’t beat him. He’s fine.”

Diesel gives me a “I’ll-do-what-I-want-and-yes-I-remember-you-were-kicked-out” kind of look, but at least releases Tyluan. I turn to Inkie and we walk away.

After a while, Vinyl regains consciousness, at least judging by the fact that she tries to feel Inkie’s ass. Luckily, there’s a taxi stand nearby, so we just put her in the nearest taxi, sit next to her and, using our limited Ponytuguese abilities, explain the alpaca pulling it where we want to go.

The party, or rather a few parties in Trixie’s Funhouse are still in full swing. We trot upstairs. Inkie drops Vinyl on a bed in one of the rooms, then goes to sleep in another one, without even saying goodnight.

I go to my room, where everything seems normal – Ruby sleeps in the closet, Hexie sleeps in the hot tub with a glass of champagne in one hoof, surrounded by stacks of coins. There’s also a note left on my bed, written in Trixie’s elegant hoofwriting.

Ask that wrench-wielding scoundrel what did she do to Trixie’s slot machines. Trixie cannot fix this and she pretends she does not speak Equine.

Sincerely,
The Great and Powerful Trixie

Yeah, maybe tomorrow. Now, it’s time to sleep.

Tomorrow starts with a hangover, made even worse by Hexie singing something that seems to be Ponish version of a song about a drunken sailor. At least Ruby gives me tomato juice, which apparently helps for hangover. Well, the only help is that Hexie stops singing, thinking that I’m throwing up blood.

After taking a shower, I walk to Inkie’s room, where I meet her and Vinyl sitting sadly over a cup of tea. I sit with them, trying to gather my thoughts, but without any effect. Life has no sense, world has no colours... Especially for Vinyl, who didn’t say a word since yesterday.

Suddenly, someone knocks on the door. Before any of us stands up to open it, Hexie bursts in and immediately hides under the bed.

“If Trixie comes here, I’m in town,” she mutters.

I didn’t even manage to react, when Trixie dramatically kicks the door open.

“Hexie’s not here, especially not under the bed,” I say.

“To hell with her,” Trixie replies. “Daring Do just came here and she’s looking for you.”

“See? I told you,” I say. “What does she want?”

“See for yourself.” Trixie points at the corridor behind her.

Daring Do doesn’t look well. Her helmet is pierced by an arrow, she’s covered in mud, mosquito bites, tree sap, and leaves of something that is probably poisonous. Hell, there’s even a few little frogs hidden in her tail, as well as a dead piranha in her vest. Only after a while I realise that a pile of mud she’s dragging behind her is Lyra.

“We need your help,” Daring says.

“Vinyl, your turn,” I mutter, seeing that Vinyl really wants to say something.

I don’t have to say it twice. Vinyl walks to Daring Do, looking into her eyes. “Listen, you little shit,” she says. “You left us alone as soon as we came here... You went into the jungle to smoke weed with natives, while we had to drink, lose all our money, break up with our marefriends, fight lesbians bigger than a fucking really big something, and now you’re asking us for help?” She squints. “I think we’re not go–” Suddenly, she retches violently and throws up on Daring Do’s hooves.

“Perfect timing,” Trixie mutters. “Trixie is jealous.”

“Dumb luck,” Inkie says.

“And I thought monkey throwing shit at us were the worst,” Lyra whispers from her position. “But giant wasps and rapefruits also weren’t cool...”

“You mean grapefruits?” I ask.

“No.”

“I’m sorry...” Vinyl smiles sheepishly, staring at Daring Do. “The tea didn’t want to agree with me...”

Daring Do sighs. “Okay... If anyone still wants to listen to me, the jungle we tried to cross is currently uncrossable. There’s no place to land a plane there. The only way to get to our destination is the river.”

“There are a lot of boats here,” I say. “Why don’t you hire someone, like you did with us?”

“Ahuizotl was here first,” Daring Do replies. “Nopony wants to talk with me...”

“I wonder why,” Inkie mutters under her breath.

Lyra gets up from the ground and tries to clean some mud off her coat, almost causing Trixie to faint. “We found an old steamboat, but it’s currently not in a working condition. Where’s Hexie?”

“I don’t know but certainly not under the bed,” I reply.

Ruby walks in with a frying pan full of scrambled eggs. When I see it, I suddenly feel another wave of nausea coming. “Hello,” Ruby says to Daring Do. “Are we going on an adventure again?”

“I’d like to, but they don’t want to help me...”

Ruby looks at us and frowns. “Get up, lazy shits! Now!”

“That was low...” I mutter, piercing Daring with my gaze.

“We’re gonna sink low if we try to use it,” Hexie mutters, watching the boat. The only good news is that it still has an engine. However, the whole thing hasn’t seen water since Princess Cadance was potty trained. It stands in a dock that probably used to be dry, but now turned into a swamp. Almost eaten by rust, it didn’t sink only because the swamp is too dense to allow it.

Hexie climbs on the deck and checks everything, from the chimney to the keel. The paddlewheels seem to be salvageable, but I don’t have high hopes about anything else.

“Okay,” Hexie says. “I can bring it to perfect working conditions in two years, though I guess it’d be easier to just blow it up and build a new one.”

“Two years?” Daring Do asks. “We don’t have that much time.”

“Trixie won’t keep you in her house forever,” Trixie mutters. I have no idea why she went with us, but she seems amused by the whole situation.

“How about ‘not perfect, but will take us fifty miles up the river without falling apart’ conditions?” Lyra asks.

Hexie looks around and kicks some rusty pipe. “Give me two days...” she replies. “And lots of duct tape...”

“Does she know what she’s doing?” Daring Do asks, watching Hexie banging with a hammer into some pipe.

“Don’t worry,” I reply, sitting on a deck chair next to her. “She was born in a train depot. She knew how to dismantle a steam engine and put it back together before she learned to walk.”

“Row, row, row your boat, gently by the stream...” Vinyl sings, smashing something unimportant to pieces.

“Hexie, is it supposed to move?” Ruby asks, pointing at one of the pipes.

“No,” Hexie replies.

“Okay.” Ruby grabs the tape and sticks the pipe to another one.

“Use more tape.” Hexie grabs a metal sheet and tries to fit it into one of the holes in the starboard. “We don’t want it to melt when it all heats up.” She puts on a welder’s mask.

“Do you know that joke?” Vinyl asks. “A colt finds a welder’s mask...”

“Shut up,” Lyra mutters, arranging the tape in some elaborate pattern around a broken paddle. “Do you think it’ll withstand water?”

“No,” Hexie replies. “But we won’t need an engine on our way back.”

I get up from my deck chair, grab a piece of board and nail it to the paddle. “This should work,” I mutter. “You never know if whatever we meet there doesn’t make us go further up the river.”

“Do we have some yellow paint?” Vinyl asks. On the board behind her, I can see a sketch of Sapphire Shores with barred teeth, holding a knife and a fork over a plate with some terrified foal.

Daring Do stands up. “There’s no time to be artistic! It has to be functional! We only need a working engine and a hull that doesn’t leak!”

Trixie grabs a megaphone and yells, “We’ll make an engine work and the hull will not leak! And then we’ll put smaller engines around it and another hull, so the water won’t reach the first one!”

“Well, to make it work, I need coal,” Hexie says. “Or anything that burns...”

“I have weed,” Vinyl replies.

Daring Do flies to me and Lyra and sighs. “We’re going to go there in a floating brothel, aren’t we?”

I nod, watching as Ruby is drawing a pattern of dicks of various size and shape on the deck. “It appears so.”

“There’s no other way?”

“Hardly,” I reply. “That’s how my friends work.”

Daring groans. “How do you manage to put up with them?”

“I go with the stream,” I reply, staring at the river. “I go with the stream...”

Author's Note

In case you wonder, we'll finish this arc in the next chapter. Then, we'll have three more arcs.

After all, a rainforest without rain would be... well, I can’t come up with anything more insightful than an observation that rainforests without rain would be just forests.

Author's Note

The notes for this chapter got quite long. You can find them here.

After all, a rainforest without rain would be... well, I can’t come up with anything more insightful than an observation that rainforests without rain would be just forests.

“Sink or burn?” Vinyl asks, looking inside of the firebox. Appropriately for the place we’re in, she’s completely covered in coal. I never knew she’d want to become a stoker.

“Depends whether this shit Trixie stuffed into the firebox explodes before the hull goes to hell.” I look unsurely at the green crystals mixed with coal. “What is that even supposed to do?”

“It’s Trixie’s invention,” Trixie replies. “It’ll make the fire burn stronger.”

“Yeah, but remember that the last thing we want is that old junk falling apart,” Hexie mutters, poking a rusty boiler. “We filled it with water and so far I can’t see any leaks. I guess we can light everything on fire and see what happens.”

“Maybe from a safe distance,” I say, looking at the pattern of duct tape, scrap metal, and silver paint hiding a big hole that used to be there just a few days ago.

Hexie shrugs. “Oh, please. Daring Do and Inkie already put our stuff on the deck, Pinchy is there, we pushed this thing out of the dock... You’re not afraid, are you?”

“Okay,” I say. “But if it explodes and kills us all, I’m gonna fire you.”

“Fine.” Hexie grabs a can of gasoline and safety matches. “You’d better back off.” She points at the manometer above the firebox. “When it rises, we have to open the valves and the steam will go to the engines. If it goes into the red field, run.”

She pours gasoline on the coal and throws a lit match inside. We backpedal a bit to watch what will happens.

At first, nothing happens. You know, just burning coal. It will take a while before water boils, anyway, so we’re safe. Unless it starts sinking.

Vinyl yawns. “Where’s the kaboom?”

“In your ass, but it disappeared after penicillin,” I mutter.

“And your mom has–” Vinyl is interrupted by fire reaching one of Trixie’s crystals. The crystal goes boom, echoing through the pipes. Smoke starts to fill the cramped space under the deck.

“Don’t worry, it’s just a hole in the chimney,” Hexie mutters, grabbing a hammer. “But unless you want to get poisoned with carbon monoxide, I recommend getting out of here for a while.”

A few more crystals explode, though not so violently. The fire engulfs coal and soon it gets hotter inside. The hand of the manometer slowly goes up.

“Add coal!” Hexie yells. She’d patched the hole and jumps off the hot pipes. Vinyl grabs a shovel and throws a few lumps inside of the firebox.

“Trixie is pretty sure they’ll manage to do that alone,” Trixie says to me. “Better go on the deck.”

We go upstairs. I walk to the rotten remains of the steerspony’s booth. Lyra is there, resting against the ship’s wheel. I stand by the engine order telegraph – Hexie managed to patch it with wires and it generally works. Or at least worked when we tried it with the engine off.

“Do you know how to steer it?” I ask.

“No,” Lyra replies. “Why didn’t we start yet?”

“The water doesn’t boil yet,” I reply, looking at the manometer in the booth. Or rather, something Hexie installed instead of it, since the original one had been long stolen. It’s a clever thing that more or less tells us when we should start the engines. Unfortunately, it’s still not moving.

“What’s going on?” Daring Do lands next to us. “How long will it take?”

“Hexie says three to five hours,” I reply. From below the deck, I can hear Trixie’s crystals exploding from time to time. Hell, even smoke coming from the chimney turns green. “I’d say closer to five, since it’s slightly bigger than a train.”

“Damn,” Daring Do mutters. “Ahuizotl may get there before us.”

“Where exactly?” I ask, watching Lyra producing a board and a couple of pawns.

Daring Do sighs. “In the middle of the jungle, there’s an ancient temple. Nearby, there lives a tribe of natives who worship a strange cult. I need to talk to their shaman.”

“A strange cult, you say?” I mutter. “If that involves snakeponies, sacrificing virgins, and Morris dance, I’m out.”

“Certainly no Morris dance,” Daring Do replies, watching the greenish smoke unsurely. “Don’t you think we should hide somewhere?”

“I trust Hexie,” I reply. “Even though I don’t trust Vinyl.” I turn to Lyra. “What are you doing with that board?”

“We have some time, so I thought we can play,” Lyra says, pointing at the board. Oh damn. Back at school, so many hours I could have spent learning were wasted on that game...

The rules are pretty simple: a board made of something smooth (nowadays it’s usually some heat-resistant plastic, mostly because dragging a piece of polished granite is not very practical) and nine pawns, often with various mythological symbols on them (mostly for marketing purposes). The goal is to push all the pawns to the opponent’s side of the board using your telekinesis. The only banned thing is physically assaulting the opponent. Distracting, psychological warfare – all of it is fine. For example, Vinyl usually sucks at it, unless the other player doesn’t like offensive jokes.

For non-unicorns, it’s just a game. We call it The Game.

“You won’t win” I mutter. “I once beat Twilight Sparkle.”

“I’ve heard about that,” Lyra replies. “Saying a scientifically wrong thing on purpose and pushing the pawns while she corrects you won’t work this time.”

“We’ll see.” I smirk, seeing that Daring Do takes notes. I wonder when we’ll see a dramatic book about two unicorns fighting an endless duel over the years. Add a romantic subplot, a political subplot, turn it into a musical...

Before I focus, seven pawns are almost on my side of the board. The peripheral ones are a bit behind. I only push the seven pawns enough to block them and direct a stream of my magic at the two marauders. As I expected, once they reach three fourths of the board, Lyra panics, trying to stop them, and her attack breaks.

Well, I underestimated her. She managed to stop all the pawns mere centimetres from her edge of the board. I look into her eyes – it works on many ponies, but not her. Veins bulging, magic sparking... The pieces tremble in the magical field so strong that it could fry an egg.

I guess I’ll have to use my favourite tactics. “Furshlugginer,” I say in the most dramatic tone I can muster, while still looking into Lyra’s eyes. I can see her sweating. “Alter cocker,” I mutter. “Bupkis!”

Lyra can’t resist anymore. She gives out a hysterical chuckle and cancels her magic. “Not fair!” she exclaims when the pawns fall off the board. “Is ‘furshlugginer’ even a word?”

“That’s how my mother calls every old, battered shit that can’t be repaired,” I reply, seeing that Trixie and Ruby joined the audience while we were playing. “In fact, I guess we can name that ship Furshlugginer. It fits.” I see Daring Do staring at her notes in confusion. “It’s written with two g’s.”

“I want to play too,” Ruby says. “Trixie, I challenge you!”

Trixie smirks. “There’s no way you can win with Trixie...”

Turns out, there’s a way. Ruby can pull off quite a creepy blank stare and even the fact that her magic is much weaker doesn’t stop her from holding her ground against distracted Trixie. Of course, Trixie wouldn’t be herself, if she didn’t come up with a solution. She simply closes her eyes and after a while, she’s victorious. Still, nice game if you remember that Trixie is over two times older.

We pass the time, playing against each other. Lyra is mostly about brute force, compensating for a rather narrow scope of her magic, not letting her grab all the pieces. Trixie varies her strength, either pretending to be weak, or suddenly attacking with all her might. Ruby relies on her unsettling glare – she even manages to win with Lyra that way.

“Are you taking a shit there?” Hexie’s voice comes from under the deck. “The water’s ready!”

Well, damn. Let’s see how much our little Furshlugginer is worth. “Dead slow ahead!” I exclaim, pushing the lever of the engine order telegraph. The alarm starts ringing, but ceases a moment later. With a terrible screech, the paddlewheels start turning.

Lyra turns the ship’s wheel, trying to steer us to the middle of the river.

“Slow ahead,” I mutter, operating the lever. “Whatever RPM you find appropriate.”

“You do realise that I can change the engine’s speed only by swearing and banging at the valves with a hammer?” Hexie yells. “Setting a consistent speed of the engine would require tuning it with a hoof grenade, especially since Inkie and Vinyl shovel the coal like there’s no tomorrow.”

“Okay,” I say, seeing that we’re travelling slowly through muddy water, struggling with the stream. “Full steam ahead. It’ll either carry us or fall apart.”

The symphony of swears, metal parts hitting against each other, and steam blowing through leaking pipes resembles the sound a cat makes when it’s killed by a steamroller, except the cat is a cyborg made of steel and vacuum tubes, and the steamroller is soon crushed by enormous pipe organ falling from the sky.

“Hey, it’s working!” Ruby exclaims, pointing at the paddlewheels. We leave a trail of black smoke behind us, but they’re turning more or less steadily, propelling us up the river.

Vinyl emerges from under the deck, completely black. “It’s terribly hot down there,” she mutters. “Even the heat here is better...”

“Eeyup,” I mutter, too busy watching the river for obstacles. I spot Wild Hunt on the bank – she’s talking with some bloke who is tied to a crane in an abandoned harbour in such a way that his hooves nearly touch water. From what I know, the river is full of piranhas, so I don’t envy him.

Wild Hunt notices us too. She smirks at the guy and flies to us, landing on the deck next to Lyra. “Hello,” she says, smirking. “I knew such a thing could only belong to you. You scared all the fish.”

“Sorry, I didn’t know you are a keen angler,” I reply, staring at the guy. “What did he do?”

Wild Hunt waves her hoof. “He’s fucked up.” She shrugs. “It’s the third time I hang him like that and he still didn’t learn. Like, he has the money and I know it, but he never pays for rubber on time.”

“Maybe he likes it,” Vinyl says. “I know some guys who’d like to be eaten. Literally.”

“Eww...” Wild Hunt winces, causing her scars to form an interesting shape on her face. “Next time I’ll just break his legs.”

Daring Do shrugs. “Tell him that there are candirus here.”

“Candy-what now?” Ruby asks.

“It’s that funny fish,” Lyra replies.

“Funny fish?” Vinyl furrows her eyebrows. “What’s funny about fish? I mean, I had a friend who put his dick into a dead fish’s mouth and–” She notices the stares we’re giving her. Normally that wouldn’t bother her, but it’s really hard to ignore Wild Hunt. “But that wasn’t funny. It was wrong on so many levels that my head hurts just by trying to count them...”

“I meant that fish that crawls into your hole when you pee into the water,” Lyra says, blushing. “And not the funny one...”

“It’s a common myth,” Daring Do replies. “I once spent a week hiding from natives underwater, breathing through a straw and warming myself with mud and my own urine. No fish ever wandered there.”

“I call bullshit,” I say. “No one can breathe through a straw for that long, especially submerged into the water. The pressure–”

“Okay, okay,” Daring Do mutters. “But I can assure you the fish thing is a myth.”

“How about number two?” Vinyl asks.

I look into Vinyl’s eyes. “You know? I think you need a bath. What would you say about keelhauling?”

“I gotta go,” Wild Hunt mutters, taking off. “I kinda left that punk hanging...”

The last buildings of Maneaus disappear behind us. Soon, we’re in the middle of a jungle, filled with sounds of numerous beasts and smells of, to put it bluntly, a huge pile of rotting foliage on a sunny day. The engine works steadily, adding to the cacophony.

It starts raining. The local weather team clears the sky above the town, but no one gives a shit about the jungle. After all, a rainforest without rain would be... well, I can’t come up with anything more insightful than an observation that rainforests without rain would be just forests. Sue me.

“Free shower!” Vinyl exclaims, standing in the middle of the deck. Soon, there’s a large puddle of soot and water around her. Daring, Trixie, Lyra, Ruby, and I watch her from the crowded steerspony’s booth.

Ruby sighs. “I swear, if she starts singing...”

Too late. Vinyl is already singing a showtune and dancing on the deck.

“I can grab some cloud and make lightning hit her,” Daring Do mutters. “But a wet, iron ship...”

Hexie’s head pokes from under the deck. “I only want to tell you that Inkie would want someone to spell her off, we have ten centimetres of water in the cargo hold, and the whole deck is shaking as if some idiot was dan–” She turns and sees Vinyl. “Oh. Actually, dick with that.”

“With what?” I ask.

“Literal translation,” Hexie says. “Who wants to shovel some coal now?”

“I’ll go,” I reply. “You know how to use that?” I point at the engine order telegraph.

“It has only one lever,” Trixie replies. “Can’t be more complicated than an average stallion. Even Vinyl would manage.”

“Vinyl wouldn’t know what ‘ahead’ and ‘astern’ mean,” Ruby mutters.

“Maybe,” I say, walking to Hexie.

Inkie walks from under the deck, drenched in sweat. Unlike Vinyl, she apparently spent more time actually shoveling rather than getting herself dirty. She smirks and raises her hoof, leaving a black outline of her hoof on my chest. “That’s how Tartarus looks like,” she mutters, pointing behind her. “And I’m burning the sinners.”

“What?”

“Mom kept telling us such stuff,” Inkie replies. “It’s hard to forget that.”

“I can imagine.” With these words, I walk downstairs.

Inkie was right. The temperature reaches at least fifty degrees, there’s lots of coal and wood scattered everywhere and in the middle of it there’s the glowing furnace. Heat radiates around, immediately making me sweaty. Hell, even the water that indeed leaks inside is already warm.

I levitate the shovel and throw some coal into the furnace. Hexie walks to the valves and tries to turn one of them. Then she just bashes it with a hammer.

“I don’t think that’s how you do it,” I mutter.

“It’s so rusty I’m not sure if it even does anything.” Hexie shrugs. “Also, we won’t need that much fire now.” She points at the manometer. “If we can believe this thing, of course.”

Maybe. At least I sit in a warm, dry place, unlike the rest of my friends. It’s even a bit too warm, so I keep drinking water.

“Check the taste of your sweat from time to time,” Hexie says, watching me.

“Is that some new fetish?” I ask. “I’m not Vinyl.”

“Nope, it’s the oldest trick in the stoker’s book,” Hexie replies. “If it’s not salty, it means you’re out of electrolytes.” She grabs a block of salt and licks it.

“Do you have another one?” I ask, watching as she grabs a hoof-rolled cigarette and touches the furnace with it. The cigarette lights up on contact. “No offense, but it’s not exactly hygienical...”

“The other side is clean.” Hexie gives me the salt. I take a lick.

“Well, Vinyl licked it once.” Hexie smiles sheepishly.

I fight the urge to retch. “Do me a favour,” I mutter, “and go fuck yourself.”

Before Hexie manages to come up with some equally clever remark, the sound of alarm rings in our ears. Hexie walks to her side of the engine order telegraph and turns to me with a surprised expression.

“Dead slow ahead,” she says. “Is there some obstacle there, or what?”

“I’ll take a look,” I reply. Instead of using the conventional ladder, I simply teleport on the deck. You know, I need to practise it more. Even though I can’t go further than about a hundred metres, even short-distance teleportation is quite useful in combat.

“We need to go faster!” Daring Do exclaims. “They’re ahead of us!”

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“We just noticed that,” Inkie replies, pointing at some black shape floating in the water next to us. Several more such things are approaching us. “Someone throws those to slow us down.”

“Yeah,” Vinyl mutters, resting her shotgun against the rail at the bow of the ship. “And look what they do when I shoot them...” She reloads and shoots. The black sphere in front of us explodes, sending a splash of water over the treetops. “See? Shit got real.”

“Well, crap,” I mutter. “Can you see those guys?”

“About a mile from us,” Daring Do replies. “They can be seen on straights...”

Lyra turns to avoid running into another barrage of mines. “What if you catch one and drop it on them?” she asks.

“It’ll explode once I touch it. Those guys think of everything.” Daring Do shrugs, watching Vinyl shooting another mine, probably because she likes the explosions.

“Did they think of magic?” Trixie aims her horn at one of the mines and levitates it out of the water. “It doesn’t explode. It occurs to Trixie that they have a simple contact fuse rather than a magnetic or magical sensor.” She levitates a few more mines. “Lyra, tell Hexie to go as fast as possible.”

“We’re gonna hit something!” Daring Do exclaims.

“This may work,” I mutter, watching the river. “The mines seem to float closer to the left bank. If Lyra turns right...” My train of thoughts is interrupted by the sound of the engine accelerating. Inkie goes under the deck to shovel more coal. Nearly scraping the paddlewheels against the bottom on the right bank, we chase the attackers.

Soon, we don’t even need to dodge mines – after all, how many of them can be kept on a large pontoon boat powered only by a small diesel engine? No wonder we managed to catch up with them – against the stream it’s no faster than masturbation when all you have is a user’s manual of a can opener.

We reach a straight fragment of the river. I can see the pontoon in front of us, along with four stallions on the deck. Vinyl fires a shotgun at the one standing in the back – a large, ginger earth pony with sideburns. Of course, they’re out of her range, but she still manages to gain attention of a grey stallion with sunglasses, whose cutie mark is, quite appropriately, an explosion.

“I see Rogue and Withers are on it,” Daring Do mutters. “And I’m pretty sure Biff and Dr. Caballeron are there too...”

Suddenly, a bullet bounces off the railing. We look at the ship and see the grey stallion called Withers pulling the bolt of a rifle.

“Trixie doesn’t like to be shot at, you fool!” Trixie shouts, levitating the mines she picked up. Withers lowers the rifle and takes off his sunglasses, apparently dumbfounded by the sight. Rogue pulls him away when Trixie throws a mine at their boat.

The mine explodes when it hits the water. Smoke obstructs the view, but when it dissolves, we see a damaged boat with a jammed rudder, drifting slowly to the left bank. The guys don’t seem to give up yet – a bullet flies above Trixie’s head. Trixie, not used to such treatment, replies with all the mines she has left.

Most of them hit the trees and the river bank, but at least one goes below the boat and throws her a few metres above the water. The pontoons break and the boat falls down as a rain of wood, rubber, and bent metal.

“Did Trixie kill them?” Trixie mutters, staring, wide-eyed, at the effects of her little freakout.

“No such luck,” Daring Do replies, rolling her eyes. “Those guys are like hepatitis. Hard to get rid of.”

“Maybe we should help them?” I ask, watching the wreckage.

“Eeyup.” Ruby grabs her BB gun and shoots the only remaining pontoon. “Like, put them out of misery.”

“My mane!” I hear from our left. “That sick cunt ruined my mane!”

“Withers, for fuck’s sake...” A pony in a wet, black hat emerges from the water next to Withers. “I am, of course, surrounded by idiots?”

The guy with sideburns jumps out of the water. “A fish! It’s one of those that crawl into your–”

“¿Que chingados te pasa?” Dr. Caballeron jumps from the nearby try. “They’re running away!”

A bunch of bananas falls on his head. When I turn, I see Ruby standing with her BB gun and smiling mysteriously.

The voices of the unfortunate thugs drown in the sound of our ship’s siren. Or rather, they’d drown, but the siren is full of holes. We pass by them and continue triumphantly up the river. For another two hours.

After that time, Hexie walks from under the deck. “I wouldn’t want to worry you, but the patches didn’t take your fireworks well. Water now reaches my knees and the engine doesn’t want to cooperate.”

Daring Do looks around. “Everypony to the pumps! We need to get rid of the water and fix the leaks!”

“I’d suggest...” Hexie scrunches her face. “Sztrandowanie... Kurwa, how is that in your language?”

“Getting out of there?” Vinyl asks, looking at the water.

Daring Do smacks her, causing her to almost fall under the deck. “Pump out the water!”

“Hey, only I can kick her,” I say. “Also, we won’t do much if Vinyl snaps her neck...”

“Aargh!” Ruby exclaims. I look at the place where I last saw her, but she isn’t there. Suddenly, despite the heat of the jungle, I feel cold.

“I’m here!” Ruby shouts. I look up and see her holding a branch of a nearby tree, a few metres behind the ship. Wait, what is a tree doing there? Suddenly, I can hear the sound of metal scraping against the bottom of the river.

“Lyra, what the hell are you doing?” Daring Do exclaims, flying to the steerpony’s booth.

“I’m here,” Lyra replies from under the deck. “You said, ‘everypony to the pumps and–” Her voice drowns in the sound suggesting that we hit some underwater root.

“Kurwa, to sztrandujemy w końcu, czy nie?” Hexie yells. We hit another root, this time it’s accompanied by a sound of metal ripping.

“Fuck this shit!” Vinyl runs from under the deck. “Door! Where’s the door? I need door to make a raft!”

“Vinyl, shut up!” I smack her in the back of the head. “We’re a metre away from the bank!”

Vinyl runs around the deck before finally jumping off the ship and landing in some bushes. I choose a more elegant solution and simply teleport out of the deck, taking a large part of our luggage with me. I find a nice place to watch as Daring Do kicks Lyra out of the ship, and then helps Inkie get out. Trixie tries to teleport, but she ends up falling into the water. Hexie simply kicks through the rusty starboard and swims out, grabbing Trixie on her way.

“A little help here?” Ruby asks, still holding the branch. Daring Do flies to her and carries her to us.

With a loud rumble, the ship leans to the side and the river carries it away from us. Seems that she’ll go to Maneaus without us.

“Okay,” I say when we are all together on the bank, spitting water and checking how much of our stuff swam to the sea. “What are we gonna do now?”

“First off, Lyra.” Daring Do walks to the pony in question. “When I say ‘everypony to the pumps’, this doesn’t include a pony holding the helm. Get it?”

“Get it.” Lyra blushes.

“Do you have the map?” Daring Do asks.

“Excuse me,” Vinyl says. “I think I blew my nose in it.”

For a moment Daring Do looks like she’s going to say something really bad about Vinyl’s parents. However, she takes the map without saying a word. Good for her. Vinyl’s parents are actually pretty nice and her brother is totally hot. We kind of fucked once, but since Vinyl also fucked my brother, I guess we’re even.

“I know where we are,” Daring Do mutters. She’s taken off to look at the jungle and now she’s sitting on the nearby branch.

“A hundred miles from our destination?” Inkie asks.

“No. About fifteen,” Daring Do replies. “It’s those pyramids you can’t see from here.”

“So, what are we waiting for?” Ruby stands up. “Let’s go!”

Jungle sucks.

Sure, waving a machete around and cutting your way through foliage may look cool, but after ten minutes in extreme heat, you wish you were still in the middle of the river. You think you’re at least walking on nice, hard ground? Fuck you. Mud reaches your knees at some points and, what’s worse, it’s inhabited by some little shits that only wait to get tangled in your coat and suck your blood or lay eggs in the wound. Daring Do is lucky – she can fly above the ground.

At least it turned out she had two pairs of rubber boots in her luggage. We give them to Inkie and Hexie. The unicorns have to stop from time to time to burn bugs with magic. It goes as well as you’d expect – I have a few burn marks on my legs due to Trixie being rather too eager to help me.

Speaking of Trixie, she’s not in the best shape. Two years of good life caused her arse to take a few steps towards developing its own gravity field, and it shows. Soon, we’ll have to stop, which won’t be any better. Daring says some of the trees here produce resin that would burn through one’s skull if it fell on their head. Oh, and did I mention the giant bees? Ruby shoots one with her BB gun. A moment later, we need to run.

“Here!” Daring Do yells, dodging several bees. A moment later, she needs to dodge Vinyl who shoots the swarm with her shotgun. She darts to the left and hides in a large bush. “Hide here!”

Without further prompts, I grab Ruby and teleport with her into the bush. A moment later, we both lose our breakfast.

“What the hell is that...” I mutter.

“Don’t worry,” Daring Do replies. “The bees hate that smell.”

“I wonder why?” Ruby retches.

A second later, Inkie joins us in the bush. At least she manages to stop her stomach from any violent actions. Meanwhile, I simply grab Vinyl with my magic, while Lyra and Trixie shoot beams at the incoming bees, covering Hexie as she runs to us.

“I think we can get out,” Daring Do mutters. “We’re covered in that smell and they won’t fit inside.”

“That’s what she said,” Vinyl replies, earning a glare from Daring.

Eventually, Trixie and Hexie grab Lyra and drag her into the bush. Apparently, Lyra decided to make up for destroying the ship by dying heroically. Luckily, it wasn’t needed.

“Seems that we’re safe now,” Inkie says, watching the bees. They’re flying above us, but none of them try to attack us.

“Yeah, but we smell like toilet at school after Snips went there.” Ruby winces. “Are we ever gonna get rid of this smell?”

“Serves you right for pissing them off,” I mutter.

At least after a while we get used to the smell. It also scared all the smaller insects that were trying to turn our coats into a maternity ward, so I’m no longer afraid that in two weeks a swallowtail would fly out of my leg, which would then wither and fall off.

The weather decides to bless us with heavy rain. We hide under the leaves, but it’s not much better – water is flowing from them on our heads. We climb on the top of a small hill and stop in the only spot on the ground that is not mud. In fact, it seems like a whole lot of branches piled on one another.

“How far is that place?” Vinyl asks, trying to see something through her soaked mane.

Daring Do, her wings so wet that she’s no longer able to keep herself in the air, lands next to us. “Well, it shouldn’t be that fa–”

Suddenly, the branches break and we all fall into a hole they were covering. Or rather, it’s not a hole – it’s a short tunnel, leading to a steep, muddy slide. You can imagine what we’re thinking about such mistreatment.

Actually, I’m not thinking much. It’s kinda hard when you suddenly drop two metres down, on a slippery slope and, after a desperate struggle, slide down the hill on your bum. Trixie is screaming next to me. I leave a fair amount of my skin on a stone hidden in shallow mud and I almost bite my tongue off.

“Wooohooo!” Vinyl yells. “It’s like the best waterslide ever!”

“Why does this keep happening to me?” Lyra shouts. I look at her – she’s sliding down in the weirdest position, on her back, but head-first.

“Don’t ask me...” Inkie spreads her hooves to slow herself down, but it hardly helps. Even Daring Do, who has two additional limbs, can’t do anything against the gravity.

Finally, we reach some flatter place. I watch as Hexie skids to a halt centimetres from a shallow pond – she catches a branch and reaches her hoof to catch Ruby. Lyra and Vinyl, tangled together, end up even closer to the pond than Hexie. I can see Lyra saying something, but before she can finish, she notices Trixie.

Have you heard about momentum? It’s mass multiplied by velocity. Trixie’s velocity is quite big and her mass... Well, you get the idea. Anyway, Trixie rams into Vinyl and Lyra and they splash into the pond. I notice that I’m about to join them, so I focus my magic and teleport to the other side of the pond.

Momentum, my ass. You can learn to break physics by suddenly disappearing and appearing in a different place, but cancelling the momentum is a completely different story. In this case, the story ends with me landing in some thorny bush. My injured side causes my vision to darken for a moment.

When I wake up, I see Daring Do on all four with grace, just before the pond. Inkie, Hexie, and Ruby walk to her, watching Trixie, Lyra, and Vinyl swearing at each other while trying to get out of the pond.

“Can we do that one more time?” Vinyl asks when she gets out of the pond and shakes the water off of her.

“Once I get a tetanus shot,” I mutter, staring at the graze in my side and picking some thorns from my ass. Then I look at the sorry remains of the bush I landed on. “Hey, Daring, is that shit poisonous?”

Daring Do looks at the bush. “Not really. It finds some use in medicine, actually. Your hormones may be freaking out for a few days, but nothing serious.”

“Hormonal changes are nothing serious?” I ask. “What would be serious then?”

“Growing a penis,” Vinyl replies.

“Trixie can still drown her in that pond...”

Before I can agree to that, I hear a strange laughter behind me. Well, it’s more like something between a hyena and a cat with asthma, but still, it’s a laughter. I turn around to see an old, wrinkled stallion. He was probably never very tall, but years (centuries?) of life made him no bigger than a foal.

“What are you laughing at, old fart?” I ask.

“Mud,” he replies, almost rolling in laughter. “Bathing in mud! Good for skin.” He points at Lyra. “She peed into it. Good for skin...”

“Hey, I didn’t!” Lyra exclaims, blushing furiously. Vinyl and Trixie suddenly decide to get out of the pond.

“Huehue Nacaocuilin!” Daring Do exclaims. “Nice to see you again!”

“Say what now?” Ruby raises her eyebrows. “Are you laughing at us?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s his name,” Vinyl mutters, looking at the old guy, who laughs even louder. “Huehue Cocoa Filling. Nice.”

Daring Do sights. “Huehue Nacaocuilin! That’s his name in Nahuatl.”

“It’d kinda suck if he came to Equestria,” Vinyl says. “Nopony would take him seriously.”

“Do tell.” Hexie rolls her eyes. “My parents called me ‘Nakrętka’. You may guess why I changed it at the first opportunity.”

“What does it mean?”

“A kind of screw,” Hexie replies. “Hexagon nut, in fact.”

Trixie hits her forehead with her hoof. “Didn’t you change your name to Hexagon Nut?”

Hexie chuckles. “Kinda... But I could’ve called myself Sex Bolt, you know. Besides, when did you hear someone using my full name last time?”

“All insane!” Huehue Caca-whatever exclaims. “Good company, Winged Weirdo. Good company!” He stands up. “With me. With me!”

Lyra climbs out from the pond and walks to me. Wet and covered in mud, she looks rather miserable. I guess I don’t look much better. Vinyl is similarly stained, but at least she’s happy like a pig in shit, which can’t be said about the rest of the group.

For a while we walk in silence. At least it stopped raining and the jungle isn’t as dense here. I can even see some stones – all that remained from buildings that used to belong to some dead civilisation.

“Hey, I need to know something,” Vinyl says. “What does all that Huehue Coco-Jumbo mean?”

“Old Maggot,” Daring Do replies. “His tribe finds it very funny.”

“Suits him,” Hexie says.

“Shut up, Hexagon Nut.” Vinyl chuckles. “You know what’s funny? Of all the ponies here, only Minuette, Inkie, and Trixie have names that don’t mean anything.”

“Mine is Prench,” I say. “It’s a kind of dance.”

“‘Incredentia’ can mean ‘unfaithful’ in Neightin,” Inkie mutters. “Mom was never proud of me.”

“Beatrix. She who makes happy.” Trixie sighs. “You think your mom sucked? Trixie’s mom...” She lowers her head. I don’t know anything about Trixie’s mother because whenever Trixie talks about her, it involves copious amounts of alcohol, self-loathing, and violence, but I think she was a circus artist.

“Happy, huh?” Huehue chuckles. “Gonna be happy soon!”

Vinyl stops. “I’m not going with him,” she says. “Last time I heard that, I woke up in a bathtub full of ice and a sticky note saying, ‘be happy your kidneys are shit, or we’d take one’.”

“Don’t worry, I know this guy,” Daring Do says. “Hey, Huehue...” She speaks slowly and clearly. “We need answers, you know? Answers.”

“Answers... Have those too,” Huehue replies. “Come with me!”

We walk through jungle till we reach a large clearing with ruins of an ancient temple in the middle of it. Around them, there’s a couple of straw huts. The locals are gathered around the campfires – no wonder, it’s the best time for supper. They seem to be friendly – soon they surround us, asking Huehue about something. He replies with long, complicated words that, knowing him, mean “morons from Equestria came to bathe in mud and get mugged”.

“What now?” Inkie asks.

“We’ll eat supper,” Daring Do replies, walking to a smaller and dirtier hut in the middle of the village.

My jaw drops. We friggin’ flew here for like, two weeks, got into a staged fight with a minotaur, blew up a military base, and got drunk with a scar-covered bat pony just to eat supper with some old fart who’s missing a few marbles? What the hell?

“Trixie could use something to eat...” Trixie mutters. Well, by her standards it’s muttering, but it’s heard by the whole village.

“Yeah, as if your ass wasn’t fat enough,” Ruby whispers. Luckily, Trixie can’t hear that, especially since Huehue gestures us inside his hut.

It is as dirty as its outside. Once my eyes get used to darkness, I notice that it’s full of weird items: wooden masks, golden monuments (Daring looks at one of them hungrily), jars full of dried leaves... Our host lights the fire and puts a small cauldron above it. We sit around it – I have second thoughts about that, but Daring Do and Lyra seem fine.

For a while, we watch Huehue adding various ingredients, like herbs and seemingly random twigs into the cauldron.

“Hey, I know those,” Hexie says, watching the mushrooms being thrown into the cauldron. “You eat one and you spend rest of the night with the fairies.”

“My mom wouldn’t let me even talk with you.” Inkie sighs. “What’s next? Beating old mares?”

“I’m not taking those,” Ruby says. “Someone has to be reasonable, you know.”

“Me too.” Hexie nods. “Someone has to be reasonable and an adult.”

I turn to Daring Do. “I wonder how exactly eating mushroom soup made by that old shroom is supposed to help us. Shouldn’t we, like, look for clues, or something?”

“Oh, we do,” Lyra says. “At the very source. Those mushrooms, when correctly prepared, give access to a magical plane of existence which allows you to see distant past. And that’s what we’re going to do.”

“That shit makes no sense,” Vinyl says. Strange, I’ve never expected reason from her. “If that was so simple, everypony would go there to see Celestia’s first sex...”

Thank you. I really didn’t need that mental image, Vinyl. Though the mention of Celestia reminds me of Twilight Sparkle – she did travel into the past after drinking some white stuff after all... Or at least that’s what she told me.

“Huehue is the only shaman that can prepare this potion,” Daring Do says. “And the mushrooms are rare, even in this rainforest.”

“Still, I don’t feel convinced.” I watch our host as he adds eggs to the soup. I’m not sure, but they don’t look like something an average chicken would lay. More like an average pterodactyl.

“Ready!” Huehue grabs a couple of bowls and puts them in front of us. “Take care of you, the little fart will.”

“Who are you calling a little fart?” Ruby asks, standing up.

“The one who gets offended by that.” Huehue chuckles. “You and your friend.” He turns to Hexie. “Cogwheels in the brain. All insane. All visiting old Huehue... Old Old.”

“Not very reassuring,” Trixie mutters, staring into the muddy soup in front of her.

“What’s the worst that can happen?” Lyra asks. “It’s not like we’re gonna fry our brains or something...” She levitates a spoon and puts it in the soup.

“You just had to say that, didn’t you?” Inkie shudders, but swallows a spoonful of soup. It seems that I have no choice but to try it too.

“Would be nice with a little salt,” I mutter after chewing the mushrooms.

“From my experience: that’s some weak shit,” Vinyl mutters. “Like, where are the fairies?”

Weak shit, indeed. I can’t see nothing strange around me. Vinyl rambles for a while, colourful words floating around her head. Nothing out of ordinary. Screw that, maybe I’ll take a walk? I stand up from the ceiling and walk through the surface of Venus. After a moment, I notice Vinyl flying to me, somersaulting between the fields of sentient, purple mushrooms.

“I still can’t feel anything,” Vinyl says, stopping to let a herd of fish pass. “How about you?”

“Nothing,” I reply, staring into the pink sky. “Where’s the rest?”

“Fuck me if I know,” Vinyl replies. “Maybe they got high. Lucky them.”

“I’m a bit worried, though.” I shrug. “Maybe we’ll ask that herd of space whales if they saw them?”

Vinyl squints to look at the whales. “Dunno. It may be their mating season. They can ruin whole cities then.”

“I can’t see any city here.” I poke the nearest purple mushroom with my hoof. “Also, there’s only one way to know. Let’s go and ask them.”

“Fine.” Vinyl takes off into the sky that meanwhile turned green and glowing. I fly with her, but lose some distance after having to dodge a petunia falling upwards.

“Vinyl?” I shout. “Where are you?”

“I’m on a roll, baby!”

I turn to see that she is, indeed, on a roll. Like, it’s the biggest fucking kaiser roll with poppy seeds I have ever seen in my life.

“I’m gonna be there faster than you!” Vinyl exclaims.

Vinyl faster than me? Not on my watch! I kick the minute hand and soon the watch nearly catches up with her. We circle above the space whales, barely avoiding a collision with a pink filly flying somewhere. She’s probably rather busy and I have a feeling that she’d rather not talk with us. She looks at us as if we didn’t belong here.

“Hey, mate!” I yell at the nearest space whale. “Have you seen a fat magician, an insane adventurer, her weird assistant, and a shy country girl who seems relatively sane in comparison?”

“This way and two thousand years ago,” the space whale replies. “Then you have to go left.”

“Thanks, mate,” I say. “Gotta go, you know.”

“Take care!” I shout just before speeding up to eighty eight miles per hour.

“Hey, Minuette!” Vinyl chases me through ages and centuries, almost crashing into a group of ancient pegasi gathered on a cloud. “Do you trust a space whale?”

“Are you racist, out of the sudden?” I ask. “It’s a space whale. They know shit.”

“But they have a terrible sense of direction,” Vinyl replies. “What if he meant two thousand years into the future?”

“We may always ask that strange pony with metal legs who totally copies your mane,” I say, pointing at the nuclear wasteland below us. “Hey, you! Is that the past?”

“I’m not drinking this crap again...”

“She doesn’t know,” I tell Vinyl and shrug. “But this doesn’t look like the past.”

We take a shortcut right through the surface of the ground: screw the time and space continuum, we’re in a hurry. We barely avoid ramming into Tirek’s cage, but soon we’re out in the open.

“I think it looks like the right planet,” I say, watching a blue and brownish sphere below us. “How do you think, Vinyl?”

“Dunno, I sucked at geography,” Vinyl replies, aiming her roll at the continent in front of us. “But yeah, looks like it. After all, how many planets have oceans?”

“More than you think.” I look at the planet. The continents look familiar, but you can never be sure. “Like, with all the parallel universes... There’s a lot of them and they may look almost the same like ours, but, for example, we can be aliens in one of them. Totally weird ones, with only two legs or something.”

“I know, I’ve read all your issues of Scientific Equestrian while taking a dump in your toilet,” Vinyl replies. “I guess there’s also a planet with an island on it. In the middle of the island there’s a tower where an old hermit writes about everything that happens to us.”

“Highly unlikely,” I say. “And about the planet, there’s only one way to find out.”

“That is?”

“We need to land.” I aim my watch at the planet. Vinyl follows me as we enter the atmosphere. Ouch! It’s pretty hot in here. I wonder why we don’t burn yet. Well, Vinyl’s roll turned into a toast, but nothing worse than that. We fly as fast as we can, wind blowing through our manes. Soon, we’ll reach the layer of clouds.

“Watch out.” Vinyl’s voice can barely be heard in the wind. “Missing the continent can make you incontinent.”

“How long did you think about that?” I ask.

“Whole centuries!” Vinyl throws her head back in laughter and kicks her roll, causing it to even the flight.

Finally, we land gently on some desert. It doesn’t exactly look like the ones in Equestria ˜– it’s drier and hotter, with bright yellow sand. There’s some strange smell in the air. Unfortunate implications aside, it’s kinda like sweat of a young filly who’s on her way into the first heat.

I look at Vinyl to tell her about that, but suddenly, my jaw drops. Instead of Vinyl, there’s a foal next to me – a small, white filly, probably Ruby’s peer. She has an electric blue mane tied in a braid and notes as her cutie mark.

“Minuette,” the filly says, “you look younger...”

Shit. I think I know who smells like a cheerleaders’ changing room on a sunny day – my thirteen-year-old self, about to hit puberty.

“You too,” I reply, trying to ignore an itch in the place that I forgot about recently.

“Damn.” Vinyl looks at herself. “That explains why, despite you smelling like a Neighponese brothel, nothing goes on in there.” She unceremoniously puts her hoof between her hind legs and makes a few suggestive moves, but apparently without any effect.

“Okay, so we’re, like, seventeen years younger and we’re in the middle of the desert,” I say when she definitely gives up. “How do you explain that?”

“I guess the mushrooms kicked in.” Vinyl shrugs. “Maybe we should look for the rest?”

“They probably know as much as we do.” I look around and notice that the roll and watch disappeared. Instead, I can see the silhouettes of a few pyramids on the horizon. “By the way, we screwed up. We’re in Haygypt.”

“Not my fault.” Vinyl’s voice is much higher than usual, making it sound like a knife scratching glass. “The planet kinda turned when we were landing...”

“Just great.” I take a few steps towards the pyramids. Vinyl follows me and soon we totally seem like two ordinary fillies wandering across the desert.

We walk for an hour, but the pyramids don’t seem any closer. Maybe it’s some hallucination?

“Fuck this,” Vinyl says, dropping on the ground. “First heat and rain, now heat and no water.” She raises from the sand, hissing and rubbing burns on her bum. “Can we go to some cold place next time?”

“Cry me a river, little shit,” I mutter – best proof that the hormones started to affect me. “To think about it, it’s tempting to leave you here.”

“I’ll tell mom on you,” Vinyl replies.

“Mine or yours?” I ask, feeling a chill running down my spine. After all, my mom already thinks I’m a mashugana iungatsh and leaving younger kids in the desert wouldn’t help me much.

“Both,” Vinyl says. “You’re gonna be grounded for life.”

“Come on, Vinyl, we’re not kids.” I look at myself. “Well, not usually. I’m pretty sure we can walk to those pyramids while behaving as adults.”

Vinyl sighs. “You do realise that you’re talking to someone who didn’t hit the growth spurt yet and has legs smaller than things I had in my ass, right?”

“Well, my body is at the point when I kept fainting when I missed breakfast and you don’t see me complaining,” I reply, pushing her forward.

“You also have acne.” Vinyl stops in her tracks, only to earn a kick from me.

“Go fuck yourself.”

“I tried, but I can’t.”

“Hey, girls!” I hear a voice coming from above. “Need some help?”

I look up. Well, damn. Daring Do looks pretty young for someone who’s forty five, but now, at the age of about twenty eight years old, the difference is striking. She’s much thinner. Her mane is slightly darker and her eyes are much shinier. She lands in front of us and I notice a foal sitting on her back.

Vinyl notices that too. It takes her a moment to recognise the foal, but once she does, she rolls on the ground laughing.

“I thweah, when we get out of thith, I’m gonna kick hew,” Inkie says, jumping off Daring Do’s back and tripping. I catch her before she falls – I don’t want the kid to start crying or something.

“We’re lucky that I found her,” Daring Do says. “I’m not sure why, but this whole trip to the past made us younger. It’s not bad with me, but she’s about four.”

“We noticed.” I walk to Vinyl. “Stop laughing, bloody moron. Once the girl grows up, she’ll beat the crap out of minotaurs, remember.”

“Exactly!” Inkie runs to Vinyl. “Don’t be a meanie!”

Vinyl stands up and looks at Inkie. “Did someone tell you that you were a cute foal?”

“And you wew awways thtupid.”

“Aww, you have a lisp.” Vinyl pets Inkie. “Say ‘molasses’... Aargh!” She jumps back when Inkie bites her.

“Where are your front teeth?” I ask, watching Inkie’s smile.

“Blinkie ith weally good with shephewd’th thling, but hew aim wath a bit off,” Inkie replies. “Good thothe wewe milk teeth...”

Suddenly, a thought occurs to me. Thank Celestia for Ruby being a wise filly who doesn’t eat mushroom soups made by insane shamans. If she got seventeen years younger, we’d now travel with a very talkative ovarian follicle.

“I know you’re happy to meet each other, but we’d better find Lyra and Trixie,” Daring Do says.

“I think I hear them,” Vinyl says. “Behind that dune.”

We climb on the top of the dune. Even from the distance, I can hear some angry voices. To think about it, I shouldn’t be surprised: Trixie and Lyra are probably teenagers.

The voices get a bit clearer. Not that we wanted to hear them.

“Friggin’ Gypsy!”

“Dirty bitch!”

“Clown sucker!”

“Rich cunt!”

“Hey, enough of that,” I say, embracing Vinyl and Inkie. “There are kids here, you know.”

As I get closer, I can’t help but chuckle at Lyra and Trixie once they stop fighting. I might be a lanky, smelly nerd with acne, but at least I’m not like those two.

Lyra... I totally forgot how she looked back in eighth grade. Long, oily mane, flannel shirt, thick-rimmed glasses without lenses, enough piercings to set off metal detectors in a mile radius, and lots of eyeliner, barely covering her black eye, courtesy of Trixie. The only thing she’s lacking is Bon Bon, although they didn’t start fucking each other before eleventh grade.

Speaking of Trixie, I wouldn’t recognise this little shit even if I met her back then. It seems that she wasn’t always balancing on a thin line between being slightly curvy and morbidly obese. In fact, she’s even thinner than me, and it’s made even worse by colourful outfit few sizes too big.

“Okay,” Daring Do says, landing between them. “What’s going on?”

“She said that I look like a weirdo,” Lyra says.

“And she told Trixie that she looks like a poor weirdo,” Trixie adds.

Daring Do sighs. “You both look retarded. Are you good now?”

“No,” Lyra replies. “I am full of darkness and pain.”

Daring Do places her wings on her forehead. “Okay now,” she says. “Why are you all dumb teens?”

“I’m not,” Inkie says. “I’m potty-twained!”

Lyra shudders suddenly before standing straight and removing her glasses. “We moved two thousand years back in time. During that process, we travelled faster than light, often next to the objects of a large mass. No wonder we got younger.”

“Well, at least one adult mind is still fighting,” Daring Do mutters. “If we ended up here, I’m pretty sure there’s something important supposed to happen soon. Let’s go.”

“Trixie won’t go with her.” Trixie points at Lyra. “She’d rather starve in the desert.”

“It’ll take a while, you fat–” Lyra realises that her slur is a bit outdated. Or rather set too soon. “You blank flank!”

“Wait, she’s a blank flank?” Vinyl chuckles.

“Totally.”

Trixie pushes Lyra to the side. “It’s because that was a time when my... Trixie’s parents realised that she sucked at acrobatics and decided she should be a clown.” She groans. “Meanwhile, Trixie always wanted to be an escape artist.”

“I swear, if you don't move your hooves soon, I’m gonna chain you all in such a way that even Trixie won’t free herself.” Daring Do takes off. “Every minute with you makes me want to kick babies...”

“Hey!” Inkie shouts.

I decide that it’s time for a more direct approach. Instead of engaging in fights, I simply levitate Inkie on my back and walk with Daring Do. Vinyl joins us soon. After a minute, Trixie and Lyra rush behind us together.

We reach the pyramids pretty quickly, mostly due to Daring Do not giving a shit about our whining. The buildings are rather underwhelming. Vinyl probably words it the best.

“They’re almost new,” she mutters, kicking the wall of the nearest pyramid. “Looks like they’re fake.”

“Yup. And the sphinx just doesn’t look right with a nose,” Lyra mutters.

“I can fix that,” Vinyl says, aiming her horn at the sphinx. “It’s not like it’s gonna survive anyway...”

Daring Do lands next to her and grabs her with her wing. “Don’t you dare. Do you know what consequences would destroying that nose five hundred years too early have?”

Vinyl rolls her eyes. “I was joking. I’m not even sure if my horn would be able to do anything now.”

“Shh!” Daring darts behind the pyramid with Vinyl and gestures us to her. We take cover and look at a pair of ponies approaching us. They look like a typical pair of Haygyptian nobles from whatever era we’re in. At least, that’s what can I judge from the striped towels they wear on their heads, as well as fake beards they both are sporting. They’re also quite tall – kinda like Saddle Arabians.

The guys look at the pyramid and the fatter of them says something.

“He said ‘Neferkheperuhersekheper is getting late’,” Daring Do whispers. “And then he said that his friend, called Meriptah, has a nice nemes.”

“A nice what?” Vinyl asks.

“The headcloth. And now he asked whether Neferkheperuhersekheper will bring that old... I don’t know that word... Berius Puncius Birbantus with him.”

“The name rings a bell,” I mutter.

“He was a philosopher and historian from the ancient Chrome,” Lyra says. “From what I remember, he disappeared mysteriously in Haygypt.”

“What are they talking about now?” I ask Daring Do.

“About the recent chariot race,” she replies. “Apparently some minotaur was disqualified for cheating.”

“How can you cheat in a chawiot wathe?” Inkie rolls her eyes. “Chawwrriot... My tongue doethn’t lithten to me...”

“Shh,” I whisper. “Someone else is coming.”

Soon, another Haygyptian joins the two guys in front of us. This one wears a white skirt and his coat is of a darker shade of brown. From time to time he’s wiping his face with his nemes. It’s kinda justified – he’s dragging some fat stallion with him.

The guy looks familiar – he’s shorter than the Haygyptians and his coat has a plum colour. He’s wearing a rather dirty toga and he’s somewhat unconscious. The fact that his cutie mark is an amphora gives me the idea why.

“Berius Puncius Birbantus,” says the guy Daring Do called Meriptah. “Excitare!”

Daring Do nods. “He said–”

“‘Wake up’ in Neightin,” Vinyl says. “Back in high school, my teacher threw the Neightin dictionary at me. Since then, conjugation and declination are no mystery to me.”

Berius Puncius Birbantus opens one eye and burps. “Meriptah,” he says, before turning to the fatter guy. “Ahmose.” He looks at the guy who brought him. “Nefer... Hefer... Pedicabo ego vos et irrumabo!”

“He said that he’ll fuck him in the face,” Vinyl deadpans.

Ahmose sighs. “Aspice quod felix attracsit... Salve, Berius. Te desideravi tantum!”

“Look what the cat dragged in. Hello Berius. I missed you so much,” Vinyl translates.

The Haygyptians and the tipsy Chroman talk for a while in Neightin.

“They asked him about some document he wrote,” Daring Do says. “The place where Goddess lives... Some pyramid. But he says that it’s not this pyramid. Too new. Now Meriptah asked where it is.”

Berius sighs. “Semper in excretum sum sed alta variat.” He produces a small, silver plate from under his toga.

“He said, ‘always in the shit, though the depth varies,’” Vinyl says. “My teacher said the same about my pronunciation.”

“I wonder what’s on this plate,” Lyra mutters, watching the scene in front of us. “Maybe we should steal it from them?”

Trixie rolls her eyes. “Yeah, because some teenage retard stealing it totally won’t change history.”

“How about your invisibility spell?” Vinyl asks.

“It doesn’t make you invisible, it makes you unnoticeable,” Trixie replies.

“Shut up!” Daring Do waves her hoof above Trixie’s head. We look at the Haygyptians. The one whose parents hated him holds the plate. “He said that they’ll hide it in this pyramid and Berius agreed that it’s the best solution,” Daring Do says.

“Spero nos familiares mansuro,” Berius mutters.

“I hope we’ll still be friends.” Vinyl shrugs. “When you say something like that...”

The Haygyptians chuckle and produce rather long and rather sharp knives. “[i[Te scindam...”

I don’t think I need a translation for that one.

“Et tu, Meriptah, contra me? Berius asks, his eyes widening.

Luckily, the mushrooms save us from the doubtful pleasure of watching the hapless philosopher getting cut. Suddenly, the sand below us collapses and we fall into a deep, dark well, away from this particular part of the timeline. We’re falling...

... and falling...

... and falling...

Damn. That takes way too long.

The next thing is see is a meadow. In front of me there’s a white rabbit with a pocket watch.

“Don’t even think about that, motherfucker,” I say. “I’m so not following you.”

The rabbit shrugs. “Chaos reigns,” he whispers before disappearing. The word turns around me and then I wake up on a cold rock somewhere next to Huehue’s hut.

“Funny, huh?” Huehue asks, helping me up. At least I’m thirty again, judging by how much taller I am. Ugh! I don’t wanna be a teen again.

“Oh, fuck me...” someone next to me mutters. To my surprise, it’s Inkie. She’s lying on her back, covering her eyes. “Holy fucking shit...”

“Inkie!” I exclaim. “Where did you learn those words?”

“I’m not sure, but it fucking helps.” Inkie rubs her temples. “I was a filly, get it? A fucking filly...”

“At least employ some variety,” I mutter. “There are so many words to choose from, like bugger, shit, cock, dick, bloody hell, piss, ass, arse, bollocks, tits, teats...”

“Cunt,” someone behind me says. I turn to see Ruby. Unlike me or Inkie, she’s fresh and apparently very proud of herself.

“What did I tell you about swearing?” I ask.

“Auntie Lyra throws up like a cat after mom’s meds,” Ruby says. “And auntie Trixie doesn’t want to talk with her for some reason.”

“How about Vinyl and Daring?”

“They’re fine. Auntie Vinyl said it was weak shit and she went to drink with auntie Hexie.”

For a moment I want to ask how did Hexie put her hooves on an alcoholic beverage in the middle of the jungle, but then I remember that she can make alcohol out of basically anything, including old shoelaces and cobblestone.

“I better talk with Daring,” I say, standing up and leaving Inkie to deal with her demons herself.

Meanwhile, Daring Do is dealing with communication problems. That is, she’s trying to talk with Lyra, but it’s kinda hard since, as Ruby said, Lyra’s stomach refused to cooperate.

“What’s up?” I ask, trotting to them.

“We were just discussing our further plans,” Daring Do replies. She looks surprisingly good – maybe it’s because her de-aging was contained within one stage of development?

“And what did you figure out?”

“We need to get to Haygypt,” Daring Do replies. Lyra covers her mouth with her hoof and runs into the nearby bushes.

“Unfortunately, I think she’s right.” I point at the bushes. “The plane’s range is not big enough and we can’t refuel in the middle of the ocean.”

Daring thinks for a moment. “How about the other one? The one you’re building?”

“It’s far from being finished,” I reply. “But I can contact Cherry Berry once we’re back in Maneaus.” I sigh. “And here’s our next problem: How do we get back to Maneaus? I don’t feel like building a boat.”

“It seems that we’ll have to,” Daring Do replies. “I’m pretty sure Hexie could–”

“I’m not sure if she could build a ship without any nails or even ropes.” I shrug. “I guess we’re talking about a simple raft, but still, it may take a while.”

“We’d better start soon.” Daring Do looks at Lyra who emerges from the bushes and drops on the ground. “Well, as soon as we get better.”

“Better, you say?” Huehue walks to us, grabs a hoofful of some paste and smears it on the abrasion on my side. “Better.” He turns to Lyra and gives her a mug of something yellow and opaque – kinda like water from the river. “For you. Empty heads didn’t drink all.”

“Will it help?” Lyra asks.

“Help?” Huehue chuckles. “Yes, help.”

“I guess it can’t be worse.” Lyra shrugs and gulps the contents of the mug in one go. “Not bad. Kinda like cider.”

Hexie and Vinyl walk to us. Apparently they were watching us for some time, hiding behind the rocks. Vinyl looks at Lyra and turns to Hexie. “You owe me five bits,” she says. “She drank it and didn’t vomit.”

“Wait a minute.” Hexie smirks. “Lyra, do you know why we didn’t drink it all?”

Lyra covers her ears with her hooves. “I’m not listening to you! I already feel better and I don’t want to get an oesophageal perforation because you tell me it’s panther’s piss or something.”

“Well, actually old mares chew corn, spit it into the water and then it’s left for fermentation, but I like your train of thoughts.” Hexie chuckles. “How are you now?”

“I hardly heard you and I have nothing to vomit with.” Lyra shrugs. “Give five bits to Vinyl and stop looking at me like that.”

“Equestria girls always stay together!” Vinyl smiles, patting Lyra’s back. “Besides, it’s not the worst thing you ever had in your mouth...”

“Yes and we all remember Bonnie caught it from you.” Lyra deadpans.

“Not directly.”

Daring Do rolls her eyes and turns to Huehue. “We need to get back to Maneaus. Do you know how can we go there?”

“Sure!” Huehue chuckles. “Go with me!” He trots up a hill, gesturing us to him.

“I swear, if it’s another batch of mushrooms, I’m gonna drown this old fart in the river,” I mutter, walking with Daring Do.

“Same here,” Lyra says.

“It was fun, watching you.” Hexie smirks. “Although I had to pull Vinyl off a tree when she thought she could fly.”

“I still can fly.”

“Yeah? So jump down that hill and fly,” Hexie replies. “But give me back my five bits first.”

Vinyl looks down. The hill is rather steep, so despite a short climb, we hardly can see the ground. Leaves make it seem that we’re closer, so I expect the worst.

“No, thanks,” Vinyl says. “I don’t feel like flying today.”

“You will, today.” Huehue climbs on a tall rock. “Come with me.”

“I don’t think it’s good to leave Inkie, Trixie, and Ruby down there,” I mutter.

“You’re right.” Daring Do flies to me. “I always thought this little shit is up to something.”

“I wouldn’t call Trixie ‘little’,” Vinyl says. “Do you know how much weight she gained since we’ve seen her last time?”

“I meant Ruby,” Daring Do says. “Seriously, who’s this kid’s father and how long till he gets out of prison?”

“Mama – anarchiya, papa – stakan portveyna” Hexie says with a sigh.

“What?”

“Mommy’s anarchy, daddy’s a cup of port wine. At least that’s the impression I got.” Hexie shrugs and climbs on a rock.

I try to grab some plant, but Huehue stops me. “Watch out,” he says. “It’s rapefruit.”

“You mean grapefruit?” I ask.

“No.” He chuckles.

Screw that. I teleport over the plant in question. Then, after a moment of clarity, I teleport to the top of the damn hill, where Daring Do is already waiting for me. Pegasi and unicorns that can teleport, all master race.

“Problem?” Huehue’s voice indicates that he’s somehow right behind me. When did he do that?

“Okay, that was quite a trip,” Hexie says, emerging from behind the edge of the hill, carrying Vinyl on her back. “Where do we go now?”

“Where’s Lyra?” I ask. Suddenly, I hear a blast of magic and see a bright flash on the nearest tree. For a moment I see Lyra hanging from the branch. That is, until she falls into the bushes below.

I guess I should correct myself. Pegasi and unicorns that can teleport in the place they want are a master race. Although telling that to an earth pony would end up in them showing you that ponies who choked on remains of their jaw are definitely not a master race.

“So, where are we going now?” Daring Do asks.

Huehue grabs a rock that is probably heavier than him, his mother, and uncle Huitzilopochtli, and lifts it effortlessly. Underneath it, there’s a cave.

“No shit...” Lyra mutters. “We went up and now we have to go down?”

“Totally.” Huehue nods and jumps into the cave.

The inside is dark like a zebra’s colon, but I can easily notice that it’s not a natural cave. The regularity of the walls, the lack of stalactites... Something is wrong in here.

“Something is wrong in here,” Vinyl says. “It’s kinda like when Tavi took me to the Tunnel of ‘Just Friends’.”

I sigh. “You didn’t get the message, did you?”

“What message?”

Some ponies never change. Just like Huehue, who suddenly stops and turns to us. “Watch out.” He points at the corridor in front of us, adorned with some ancient monuments – heads made of stone. I don’t know what creatures they depict, but I think none of those ever walked on this planet. At least I hope so.

“Hey, I’ve seen it in one crappy movie,” Hexie says. “Do they shoot lasers from their eyes?”

“No way.” Daring Do waves her hoof. “They didn’t know lasers back then.”

Huehue picks up a stone and throws it. Laser beams come out of the stone heads’ eyes and burn it into fine powder.

“Kurwa,” Hexie mutters. “I’ll stop talking. Too many things I say come true.”

“I wonder where’s the source of energy for these lasers.” Daring Do shrugs. “Also, how do we get past them?”

“Somewhere here there’s a really big hamster wheel,” Vinyl says.

“And how’s that supposed to help us?” Daring Do asks.

Huehue chuckles. “Little faith,” he mutters. “Little faith in old Huehue.” He trots to the nearby wall and pushes some symbol on the wall. “There. Safety switch.”

“Does it turn off the lasers?” I ask.

“No, but we have ten heartbeats to run past them.”

“Can we teleport?” Lyra asks.

“Definitely not you.” Vinyl pokes Lyra and stands right in front of the hall with stone heads. “Ready... set...”

“Do you think you’ll outrun lasers?” Hexie stands next to Vinyl.

“I’ll just have to outrun one of you.”

“Oh really?” Hexie smirks. “Then go!”

She runs into the corridor. We follow her, trying to get past the heads as fast as possible. For a moment I think about teleporting, but since the very thought gives me a headache, I resign, instead focusing on running.

Hell, we didn’t ask Huehue how much time he meant by ten heartbeats. I realise that exactly at the moment when a laser burns half of my tail off. Shit! I drop and roll, sliding on the floor. If another head hits me, I’m gonna be fried. One more jump and the beam smashes against the wall in a place where I’ve been a split second ago.

“You okay?” Huehue asks. Somehow I haven’t seen that little schmuck running with us, so I guess he took an easier route.

“I’m fine,” I mutter standing up. “Where are we going now?”

Instead of a reply, Huehue trots forward. We go deeper inside the hill, through the corridors with symbol-covered walls. Occasionally, we see a sleeping snake, or a big spider... Once or twice I’ve seen skeletons of foals. Did they sacrifice them here, or what? Or maybe it’s some lost group of tourists who accidentally ran through an ancient obstacle course?

There’s a large crack in the wall on my left, so I can’t resist to take a look. Maybe I’ll see some wires that power the lasers?

“Vinyl,” I say. “Next time we’re in some strange place and we wonder how it works, I kindly insist that you shut the fuck up.”

“What did I do this time?” Vinyl asks, walking to the crack. “Holy shit!”

Behind the crack there’s a hamster wheel. Or rather, what-the-fuck-is-that-holy-shit-I-want-out wheel, because whatever is inside of it is as far from being a hamster as... well, as far as something that can’t really be considered a living being, because the only thing it has in common with living things is that it has legs which it uses to turn the wheel. Though after a closer look, I’m not totally sure about that.

Huehue stands next to us. “Don’t look. Won’t do a thing,” he says.

“What does it eat there?” Vinyl asks, shuddering.

“It doesn’t.” Huehue shrugs. “You feed it, it shits. And then it’s better to be somewhere else.”

“It has to eat something,” Vinyl says.

Lyra looks into the crack. “It’s just a reflection of a multidimensional entity. Like, imagine we’re two-dimensional being in a flat world. One day, a sphere passes through it. All you’d see would be a circle that’d gradually get bigger, then smaller, before disappearing completely. That’s more or less how the situation looks here, but there are at least eleven dimensions it exists in.”

“Let’s get out of here,” I say. “I don’t want any of those dimensions to suddenly turn and smack me in the face, or something.”

We rush as far from the crack as possible, trying not to look behind. Soon, we lose it from our view, after we have to climb up a flight of symbol-covered stairs.

“This step has dicks on it,” Vinyl mutters, looking at the piece of igneous rock under her hooves.

“Those are ancient symbols of fertility,” Daring Do says.

Vinyl lifts her sunglasses. “You mean they’re dicks?”

Daring sighs. “Yes, they are.”

Finally, we reach the top of the stairs. They lead to a large hall, built of marble, slowly crushing under the roots of enormous trees above. In the middle of the hall, there’s a landing and on the landing there is...

“Incredible,” Lyra says. “Everypony thought it was bupkis.”

“What?” Hexie asks. “This piece of golden shite?”

I look at Daring Do. She’s standing motionless, her mouth slightly agape. Her eyes look like two coins, which is hardly surprising, given that she’s looking at a golden condor, as big as Little Cadance.

“Equestria to Daring!” I yell. She blinks and starts hyperventilating. Hexie is quicker than me: she simply uses a sobering tap to the back of the head.

“W-well, don’t be hasty,” Daring Do says. “This may be just a statue...”

“What else it can be?” I ask.

Huehue chuckles. “Sky. Little creatures in their flying machines... Boom!” He raises his hoof and lowers it rapidly. “Not ponies. Older things in golden condors. Sun is their force.”

“Aliens,” Lyra says. “One spends whole life being told that von Pöniken is insane and those lines in Neighzca are just a really big picture, and then they encounter a flying war machine from before ponykind.”

“It’s a war machine?” I ask, staring at the condor. If it’s solar-powered, I’d be able to burn some wanker or two...

“Is it really made of gold?” Vinyl licks her lips. Seems that we have different priorities.

“We still have a problem. It needs sun to work and we’re, like, underground.” Hexie makes an expression she usually does when I call her to fix my washing machine. It’s usually accompanied with some variation of the phrase “dude, who screwed it up so badly?”

Huehue waves his hoof. “Not a problem,” he says, picking up something from the ground. I look at it and feel that my stomach does a somersault. I guess it’s perfectly normal reaction to a mummified monkey’s hand. Huehue walks to a carving on the wall, depicting a print of a very similar hand.

“Some primitive hoofprints analysis device?” Lyra asks.

“More like shape recognition,” Daring Do replies. “Each minotaur has a different pattern on their fingertips and I guess same goes for monkeys.”

“Do you think those were minotaurs?” I ask, watching Huehue touching the carving with the dried-up hand.

“Not sure.” Daring Do shrugs. “This doesn’t look like minotaur art, not to mention that I can see something that looks like a carving of a tentacle.”

“Different locks for different pilots?” Lyra asks.

“We should refrain from making theories,” Daring Do says. “It’ll need years of research and a whole council of historians–”

“According to historians this doesn’t exist.” Lyra rolls her eyes. “They’re just a bunch of morons who do nothing but smell each other’s–” She’s interrupted by a thunderous roar. The floor starts to tremble, making me wonder if it was wise to go into some decrepit underground temple.

Suddenly, the whole ceiling raises, opening like a lid of a giant box. I can see the trees above us, as well as Trixie, Inkie, and Ruby staring wide-eyed at the pit that opened right in front of them.

“Wait,” Vinyl says. “We went all the way up there, then all the way down through the cave just to end up inches from your camp?”

“Only opened from the inside!” Huehue exclaims.

Ruby looks at the golden condor. “What the fuck is that?”

“Ruby!” I yell. “What did I tell you about using such words?”

“Okay, I meant, ‘what the fuck is this?’.” Ruby rolls her eyes. “Is that fine?”

“Also, everyone can see it’s a golden condom.” Vinyl smiles proudly.

“Condor, my illiterate friend,” Trixie says. “Does it fly? The town would go crazy if Trixie came back there in it!”

“We’re about to find out,” Daring Do says.

Huehue walks to the back of the condor and opens a hatch. Before I go inside, I take a look at the whole thing – sun is reflecting in its golden plating, making it look like it was alive. Or maybe it’s just a mirage?

At least the interior is much more conservative. The upholstery on the seats is somehow intact – grey with red suns sewn on the backs. Whoever were the constructors of this machine, their butts were probably similar to ours – the seats are quite comfortable.

There’s only one problem. Even though the controls give me some sense of familiarity, I have no idea how to lift the damn thing off the ground. Not to mention, that unless it’s more pegasus-like in its flight, I’d need a runway.

I look at Hexie and Inkie, but they both shrug. Hexie is poking random buttons, but they appear to be doing nothing.

Huehue clicks his tongue and says something in his native language.

“He said the ghosts of his ancestors told him how to fly it,” Daring Do says.

“I got a CV like that once,” I mutter. “Incredible as it may seem, the guy didn’t get a job.”

Meanwhile, Huehue sits in front of something that probably is the centre stick and touches it with the monkey’s hand. The cockpit blinks with numerous lights, so we take our seats. The floor vibrates slightly and I can hear a silent purr coming somewhere from the back. Additional clicks and scratching joins the cacophony and I notice that the position of the wings changes.

The whole condor lifts on its legs, as if it was trying to bathe in sunlight. Probably that’s what it’s actually doing – after who knows how many years of standing in the hangar, it’ll probably need to recharge.

Actually, Huehue probably flies it from time to time. Dunno, does he pick up ladies for that? Or maybe he just turns on the engines to prevent them from falling apart? Before I can stop imagining younger Huehue wooing some native mares, the condor takes off.

It’s not exactly like Little Cadance, with her constant noise and shaking. It lifts vertically, smoother than any helicopter. Soon, we leave the treetops below us. I can hear Ruby’s ecstatic curses, as well as Vinyl’s gasps. The tone of whatever engine powers this thing changes and we dart forwards with a speed no pegasus can match, except maybe Rainbow Dash.

The jungle changes into a continuous blur of green and brown. The sun is behind our backs as we fly east like an arrow. This thing is perfectly stable. No turbulence upsets its flight. Whoever built it, was far better than Cherry Berry and me.

Who knows, maybe Lyra is right and aliens actually built that thing? I turn to Daring Do to ask her about that, but she’s not listening to me. All I can hear from her is muttering that sounds awfully like “they’re gonna lick me off when I show them that”.

The sudden acceleration throws me back at my seat. We’re lowering our flight; I can see the river below us, like a brown and blue band in the middle of green cloth.

“Sun sets soon!” Huehue exclaims. “Gotta go fast!”

“We need a place to land,” I say. “Can it land on the river?”

“Who said we land?” Huehue pushes some button.

Without making any noise, the upper part of the condor opens. We now fly just above the river and Huehue laughs like crazy. Does he–

Suddenly, I’m flung upwards from my seat. I hate when it happens – even though last time it happened was during Cranky’s wedding, when Vinyl suddenly decided to weaponise her speakers. At least I’m not alone: it seems that everypony but Huehue were kicked out of the condor.

Meanwhile, the machine accelerates and gains altitude. Before I splash into the river, I can see it turning back and disappearing almost instantly. The next thing I know is trying to lift Trixie from under the water – unlike Vinyl, she can’t really swim.

Well, at least fat floats.

We emerge from the water a few metres from the pier. On the pier, there’s a crane. Some poor schmuck is hanging upside-down from the crane, his head almost touching water. Next to the crane, Wild Hunt is staring at us, wide-eyed.

“Are we interrupting something?” Inkie asks.

“Not really, he just agreed to pay,” Wild Hunt replies. “What the hell was that bloody thing?”

“It’s a long story...”

And that’s, dear ponies, how we made it back to Maneaus. What? You don’t believe me? And how else would we get back there so fast? Just ask Trixie. Spending half of her life pretending to be a runaway from sultan’s harem doesn’t mean she’s not a believable witness.

Well, I guess I’ll make a break for a drink, because what followed were boring three weeks spent on preparing our journey to Haygypt. You know, just logistics and stuff. While it’s important, barely anypony ever mentions it.

“Hey! You didn’t mention the race! Mommy said that there was a race!”

And your mommy is... Damn, you’re Ruby’s kid. I keep forgetting Berry is a grandma now, while my son... Nevermind. Of course I’ll tell you about the race. Just let me have a drink, okay? Old mares like me have to keep their throats hydrated... I see that, Vinyl! There’s still plenty of the story to be told, so sit back and be patient, kids. It’s not like your parents are going to be mad at me or something...

They’d be afraid to try.

She’d end up screwing those guys in their metaphysical butts with a stainless steel strap-on.

I’ve seen many weird things in my life. I crossed oceans, fought ponies, monsters, and Epona’s Witnesses. I tore off the mask of reality and stared into the face of what’s beneath it. It wasn’t nice.

Still, there are things that aren’t easy for me. In this case, making an international call in the world where all the wires can sooner or later be eaten by something you didn’t even know existed. And, of course there are all those ponies in the post office, judging you.

“International call,” I say to the alpaca behind the counter. “Ponyville, Equestria.”

She points to one of the phones hanging from the wall and walks to the plugboard. It seems that you can call half of the world from here. I grab the receiver and wait, listening to static and various psychedelic beeps as the signal travels across the whole continent. Judging by the sounds, at some point it’s relayed by a foal with a signalling drum, hidden somewhere in the jungle.

“Number please.” The voice on the other side is bored and distant. “I’d like to remind you that international call costs twenty bits per minute and we have only two phone lines in the whole town.”

“Fine,” I mutter. “Now I’d like to talk with someone in Turner and Berry. The number is–”

“I know.” I hear a click and wait some more time, hoping that Berry Punch is in her office, sober.

“Morgue, how can I help you?”

I sigh. “Cherry Berry? Stop screwing around and tell me how’s Hot Coco. We’ll need her.”

Cherry Berry chuckles. “She scared every little wanker in Trottingham! We lost some unimportant parts on the way back, but everything is in place now!” I hear a sound suggesting that she dropped on the desk. “Still, lots of testing to be done. And Bitta Blues crashed the helicopter into the outhouse. Shit everywhere! She’s fine though, just smells bad.”

“Tell her that I’ll kill her and fire her, not necessarily in that order,” I say. “Anyway, listen to me carefully now... Do you think you’d manage to fly Hot Coco to Maneaus?”

“Maybe,” Cherry Berry replies. “Actually, it seems that there’s a 94.3% chance that we’ll make it without having to land.”

“Sounds fine to me,” I mutter, wondering how to pass more information to her. “How about going to Haygypt?”

“Overrated,” Cherry Berry says. “Dirt, heat, mosquitoes, and you spend most of your stay shitting further than you can see due to Pharaoh’s Revenge.”

“I meant the plane. It won’t lose any important parts, right?”

“It shouldn’t,” Cherry Berry says, accenting the words in some peculiar way – stressing all the wrong syllables.

“Second pilot is an important element,” I say.

I can almost hear her blush. “Then... maybe?”

“Will it go to Haygypt or not?”

“Dirt and heat may be an issue, but Hot Coco shouldn’t crap herself...” Cherry Berry replies.

Thank you for that mental image, Cherry. I’m pretty sure Inkie would be happy to hear that too.

“So, you can make a little test flight here, right?” I ask. “Oh, and don’t fire Bitta right now. Just ground her... Dunno, tell Berry to give her something to do in the office, at least till the doctor sees her.”

“Sure thing,” Cherry mutters. “Bury her underground... Or bury her in paperwork.”

“The latter,” I say. “How’s Berry, by the way? Why isn’t she in the office?”

“She’s holding wires while I went to pick up the phone,” Cherry Berry says in a tone suggesting that her insanity kicked in just a little bit.

“Why couldn’t you hold the wires?” I ask. “And what wires are those?”

“Because I went to pick up the phone.” Cherry Berry sighs. “And the wires are the ones that keep Rusty Shitter from falling apart.”

“I’m not gonna ask.”

“Then don’t ask,” Cherry Berry says. “See ya.” She throws the receiver away.

“That’ll be eighty bits,” the alpaca says, seeing that I finished the conversation. “Or three hundred eight reais and twenty centavos.”

“What?” I exclaim. “You can buy a house here for that!”

The alpaca chuckles. “Maybe a wooden hut in the jungle. Pay or I’m calling Diesel.”

Dammit. Either there’s more than one Diesel here, or the unfriendly neighbourhood bouncer also works at the post office. I don’t really feel like checking that, so I pay and walk out of the post office.

“Why the long face?” Vinyl asks, blowing the smoke out and throwing the butt of her cigarette into the nearby garbage can.

“Overpriced services,” I reply. “But at least Cherry Berry will come here with Hot Coco.”

“Overpriced services, huh?” Vinyl smirks. “Reminds me of a griffon brothel in Haysterdam. Full service, including hot tub, drinks, weed, snacks, and male, female, and something-in-between sex slaves clad in leather and silver cost thirty thousand bits for one night.”

My head hurts. “Vinyl, have you ever seen thirty thousand bits at once in your life?”

“Well...” Vinyl blushes. “Not back then. But they gave me chlamydia, so I guess that makes us even.”

“You had chlamydia?”

“Not for long.” Vinyl shrugs and lights up another cigarette. “It didn’t survive the contact with my syphilis.”

Eww. I’m pretty sure Vinyl is only alive because everything she caught because of drinking, snorting, and smoking various weird substances in strange, often unhygienic places, as well as having sex with, according to the legends, half of the civilised world, is too busy fighting one another to kill her. But her syphilis also had a good side: she calmed down a bit, at least when it comes to substance abuse.

“Anyway, what did Cherry say?” Vinyl asks as we walk down the street, back to Trixie’s house.

“It seems that she tries to build Rusty Shitter after all.” I roll my eyes.

Project #233, also known as Rusty Shitter is Cherry’s idee fixe. Currently, it consists of the first version of Hot Coco’s hull we commissioned from Manehattan Metal Industries but scrapped it due to changes in the project. The thing was gathering dust in the back of the hangar for a while, until Cherry decided to use it as a base of her idea to make something that’s both a helicopter and a plane. So far it resulted in three burnt engines, one hydraulic failure which left wings permanently stuck in the helicopter mode, and a prop falling apart and nearly beheading Ruby. And it didn’t even take off.

“We have to tell Coco not to go anywhere nearby,” Vinyl says. “Inkie would get crazy if her wife got beheaded... And she’d punch my liver out.”

“Today, it’d be your liver... Tomorrow, the whole world,” I mutter.

“Don’t even say such things...”

By the time we reach Trixie’s Funhouse, it’s almost dinner. Apparently it’s quite an important event in the town’s life – some local VIPs gather at Trixie’s place to eat and talk about recent news. From what I know, we’re also invited as some local attraction.

“There you are!” Trixie exclaims. “They’re waiting for you.”

Damn. And I didn’t brush my mane... Though as long as Vinyl is next to me, no one will notice. We walk up the stairs quickly to meet Daring Do. She’s wearing a pretty nice blue dress from Rarity – a proof that in her quest to find whatever we’re looking for, she’s ready for everything. Including a fancy party.

Unfortunately, I can’t say the same about my crew. While Ruby brushed her mane, she still looks like she’s going to kill someone. Hexie wears a harness with her tools. Inkie, for some reason, wears a leather jacket, white scarf, and goggles.

Lyra approaches us and gives me another leather jacket, complete with scarf and goggles. What the hell?

“Put it on,” Lyra says. “They want to see the brave pilots, so I guess you have to look like one.”

Yeah. Because what’s basically a Wonderbolts outfit from the times before skin-tight suits became all the rage apparently is what makes you a pilot.

We enter the hall, greeted by a thunderous applause. Most of the ponies are dressed in fancy clothes, making me feel kinda out of place. I guess Inkie feels the same – her face is now completely hidden behind her mane, so I can’t really tell. We walk to one of the small, round tables and sit at it.

“Psst... Lyra,” I whisper. “I don’t want to be that mare, but I guess you remember what happened during the last two fancy parties we were at together?”

Lyra scratches her mane. “You mean that one time when a changeling queen turned our brains into jelly and we woke up in a cave, looking for some damn flowers?”

“Yes...” I mutter. At least once we stopped yelling at each other and remembered that we can teleport, we managed to get out of the caves and make it to the wedding.

“And that bugbear thing where you ended up being launched into the air by Vinyl Scratch’s Wild Ride?”

“More or less...”

“Junkies getting sucked into puppet dimensions by chaos gods?”

“I wasn’t there,” I say. “Though maybe I should have.”

“Only if you wanted to be covered in goo,” Lyra replies.

Just when I want to say that it’s not usually my fetish, some idiot with a microphone deafens me by saying, “Welcome to the brave heroes of the air!”

“Who is that moron?” I whisper to Trixie.

“He’s the mayor.”

“That explains pretty much everything,” I mutter, staring at all those sharp-dressed ponies looking at me. Good morning, we’re all gonna die.

“I don’t get it,” Daring Do says. “I’ve been flying since I was a little kid and no one threw a party because of that. But as soon as an earth pony flies, everypony gets insane.”

“Who are you calling an earth pony?” I ask.

“Umm...” Inkie tries to give me a nasty look, but it’s kinda hard since I can’t see her face.

I decide not to reply, instead focusing on the guests. Hell, even Octavia is here. She’s sitting next to some fat pony with sideburns and a pipe. Behind them, there’s some slim pony wearing a mask covering half of their face. Octavia looks at them nervously.

I take a closer look at that weird abomination and suddenly it hits me: it’s just Wild Hunt in a fancy outfit. I guess the fat pony, the rubber baron with some unclear connections to bat pony mafia, decided that a masked servant is better than a servant who looks like they headbutted a combine harvester.

I take a look at the food in front of me. Sweet Luna on a stick, I could make hot love to that salad... But I guess I’ll have to just eat it. Ponies are watching. Okay, wankers, wanna see the brave pilot stuffing herself with olives and feta cheese? There you go.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” someone says with a clearly foreign accent. I lift my head, only to see some posh-dressed young colt standing next to Hexie. Holy hell, mate. You’re aiming pretty high.

“What’s up?” Hexie asks, not even bothering to pour something from a hip flask to her drink.

“I’d be very pleased if I could take a walk around the town with you and show you the sights...” The guy blushes.

“I’ve already seen the town, thank you.” Hexie takes a sip of her drink and winces.

“I’m pretty sure he’s hitting on you, lucky girl,” Vinyl whispers theatrically.

“Oh.” Hexie looks at the guy. “You should’ve said before that you wanted to, umm... read poetry with me.”

“Well, actually I have some poetry...”

Vinyl leans closer to Hexie. “Hmm, why don’t we find some quiet place and read poetry together?”

“The only thing I’ll ever stick in any of your orifices will be a screwdriver in your eye socket,” Hexie mutters, before turning to the guy. “Of course I’ll go with you, my friend...” She stands up and trots with the colt.

“Aren’t you worried about her?” Daring Do asks.

I shrug and go back to my salad. “I’d be more worried about this guy.”

“Minuette!” This voice is definitely female.

“No, I only like poetry written by stallions,” I say quickly, not even bothering to raise my head.

“It’s me, moron.”

“Hello, Moron, I’m Mi–” I raise my head to see Wild Hunt with her boss. He says something to her.

“He said he knows a bat pony who can fly faster than your plane,” Wild Hunt translates.

“Tell him that it’s not possible,” I say. “Also, I’m pretty sure you can’t do that.”

“I can’t, but Tyluan would like to try,” Wild Hunt replies.

“Tell Tyluan that it won’t increase the size of his dick.” I roll my eyes.

Wild Hunt chuckles. “Yes, but this moron who can’t understand a word from what we’re saying bet a lot of money that he’s faster than your plane.” She points at her boss who smiles unsurely at me.

“I sometimes wonder why the mafia didn’t put you in concrete horseshoes yet,” I say. “Also, tell this wanker that wearing a tailcoat to a semi-formal party is probably some kind of faux pas.”

“I told him, but he didn’t listen.” Wild Hunt rolls her eyes behind the mask. “Also, it’s basically an informal party with you being dressed casually because you’re some kind of peculiarity.” She sighs. “It ain’t the shit I ever wanted to know...”

“We never know what will be useful,” I mutter. “Tell Tyluan that I’ll destroy him.”

Hexie looks into the engine and screws some loose nut tighter. She then examines the casing, looking for any leaks and humming something to herself. Knowing her, probably some hoofball chants.

“You do realise that if you destroy Little Cadance we won’t go any further, right?” Hexie asks.

“Don’t worry,” I say. “Even if it gets damaged, Cherry Berry is on her way.”

“I meant that you might die,” Hexie says. “No one died in Cherry Berry’s planes yet, but I had a friend once. He built a glider with some badass firework as an engine.”

“And what happened to him?” I ask, wiping the windshield.

“Shoveling the remains wasn’t nice,” Hexie says. “But at least everything fit nicely into a flower basket.”

“Well, Little Cadance is sturdier than that.” I sit on the lower wing and look at all the citizens watching us from behind the fence. I’d think that this town got used to weird stuff happening, at least since Trixie is here, but they still stare at us with their mouths open like a Yak peasant at the Trotguska meteor.

A bat pony flies above the crowd and lands next to us. He’s wearing something that seems like grayscale Wonderbolts costume, which, given his unorthodox flying technique, looks pretty weird. Well, that’s how bat ponies fly in general unless they are like Wild Hunt, whose wings were through so much abuse that it’s a mystery how she still flies.

This bat pony has no such problems, so there’s only one possibility of who they are.

“Tyluan!” I exclaim. “Ready to get your ass kicked?”

Tyluan lands next to me and smirks. “So that’s how you look sober...”

“So that’s how you look when I’m sober,” I reply. “I always thought you were taller.”

“Well, I thought you were funnier,” Tyluan replies, looking at Little Cadance. “Is that supposed to be faster than me?”

“Well, she can’t come in three seconds, but she’s a girl, after all.” I pat the wing I’m sitting on.

“Oh, please.” Tyluan rolls his eyes. “You’re scraping the bottom of the barrel here.”

“Just for your information: I can think of seven different ways of beating the crap outta you with a barrel,” I say, standing nose to nose with him. “You’d better watch out.”

“I’d like to see that.” He leans closer to me, so I lick his nose.

“What the fuck?” He jumps back.

Indeed, what the fuck? It’s not like I lick other ponies’ noses; at least not before thinking about it.

Hexie sighs. “Just go and find yourself a room, you two. Like, what exactly is wrong with you?”

“She molested me while drunk,” Tyluan replies, pointing at me.

“He locked me in a coffin,” I say. “Apparently because he couldn’t find a bed.”

“I saved her life.”

“He saved my life,” I mutter. “By telling me to steal a helicopter from Cherry Berry. And that was the first night and morning after we met.”

Hexie rubs her temples. “Sometimes, I feel like jamming a lead pipe into someone’s eye socket till it comes out from the back of their skull and then use it as a lever to break their spine and rip their head off. You two are lucky I’m all out of lead pipes.”

“A propos: how was that guy yesterday?” I ask, really desperate to change the topic.

“Not good,” Hexie replies. “Turns out, by reading poetry, he really meant reading poetry. And I don’t know Ponytuguese.”

“That blows,” I mutter.

“Funny you mention that.” Hexie smirks. “You know, he didn’t write that many poems.”

“That’s a little more than I wanted to know.” I stare at Tyluan who also seems struck by the implications. “Well, mate, we have a race to do, don’t we?”

“Seems like it.” Tyluan looks at the entrance of the airport. It seems like the whole town came here, complete with hayburgers and beer stands, souvenirs, and, the worse of it all, the commentary. Courtesy of two ponies who are possibly the least gifted to do the job.

“Hello, there, my dear friends!” The voice echoes above the airports. “My name is DJ Pon3 and I’m here because when you see an aircraft crashing down in flames, someone has to tell you about how it crashes!”

“And the Great and Powerful Haygyptian Princess Trixie is here to remind you that you can always visit her Funhouse and–”

“Yeah, right.” Vinyl’s chuckle causes the speakers to go into feedback. “Go to Trixie’s saloon, you get a whore and a balloon.”

“Now I know why you’re friends,” Tyluan mutters. “Same intellectual level.”

“Well, I guess we’re no match for that walking knife sharpener called Wild Hunt,” I mutter.

“Yeah.” Hexie grabs a really big monkey wrench. “You’d better watch out, sweetheart...”

I hear an air horn calling. The distant crowd cheers while a little filly with a flag walks to us. Hexie and I take our places in the cockpit while Tyluan stretches his wings. Too bad, I can still hear the commentary.

“So, there are a few things you need to know about bat ponies,” Vinyl says. “Just look at that scoundrel. Teeth, fluff, nice butt... And I bet he eats bugs. Which have, like, a lot of proteins, so his muscle mass...”

“Trixie heard they also eat mangos,” Trixie says. “Which is an impressive feat because one cannot eat a mango and not get dirty, yet they somehow manage to do that. This pleases Trixie.”

“I once stuck a mango in my pussy.” Vinyl is charming as always. Luckily, Hexie turns on the engine, which drowns all the unnecessary noises. I give the throttle lever a nudge and the machine reacts immediately, nearly deafening us.

“This Tyluan...” Hexie mutters, watching the bat pony standing next to us. “Ciacho ale chuj.”

“What?”

“A cutie, but also a... fool,” Hexie replies. “Well, not exactly.”

“I can imagine,” I mutter, watching the filly with the flag. She shivers slightly when she raises it. Good thinking, kid. Don’t get in the way of my propeller, because I’m not in the mood for scraping you off the windshield.

The filly waves the flag and Tyluan takes of. We roll slowly down the airstrip, while the filly runs away.

“He’s already in the air,” Hexie muttered. “And he seems pretty fast.”

“Oh really?” I push the throttle lever forward and pull the stick. We lift slightly above the ground, quickly gaining velocity. Let’s see how Tyluan can handle that... The sky’s the bloody limit, babe! We raise above the clouds, the silhouette of the bat pony before us. We’re supposed to reach some funny-shaped rock and go back to the airport, so there’s a plenty of distance to catch up with him.

The roar of the wind is deafening. You see, when we built it, comfort was the least of our worries, so the whole thing is loud and, to be honest, a bit primitive. Built to last, not to carry your ass around the world comfortably.

The town below us is replaced by the jungle. From my position, it looks like a big, green carpet. Well, with some brown and yellow stains, but still. So, more like a green carpet who belongs to somepony who just got a puppy.

I look forward and see that Tyluan is getting closer to us. I grab the stick tighter, knowing well that I’ll have to overtake him without accidentally cutting him to pieces, or else we’d all be dead. Meanwhile, something in me wants to rub it in his face...

The tip of the plane’s wing misses Tyluan by a metre or so. The turbulence caused by our prop throws him slightly off course. He recovers and chases us, but it’s no use: he’s quite fast, but we’re definitely faster.

Hmm, let’s see what else I can do... The engine’s roaring at the maximal speed, so I move the stick to the left, my hooves jammed on pedals. Slowly, the whole aircraft rolls on its back. Hexie is yelling something – probably swears.

Blood rushes to my head. I finish the barrel roll almost brushing the tops of the trees with our wheels. I pull the stick, staring at the rock in front of us, getting closer and closer.

“Are you fucking out of your mind?” Hexie shouts. “You’re gonna get us fucking killed! This plane isn’t meant to do that!”

Indeed, the wires make a noise as if a pig was rolling in the piano. I hope I didn’t damage something, or else we may lose a wing. That’d mean a rather short flight to a rather definite destination. Which would be bad, since we’re about to reach the funny-shaped rock.

“Good thing Vinyl isn’t here,” Hexie says. “She wouldn’t shut up for days.”

I nod, staring at the small platform at the top of the rock, with two pegasi observing us. I wave at them and circle the rock slowly, keeping in mind that the wings may be weakened by my earlier recklessness.

This is, however, enough for Tyluan to catch up with us. Not to mention that, despite being slower, he’s much more agile and can turn on a dime. Before we head back towards the town, he’s already flapping his wings like crazy, getting smaller and smaller in the blue sky.

I put my hooves on throttle and stick, feeling blood rushing through my veins. Kerosene gets pumped into the engine, throwing us back on our seats. I can see Hexie getting pale as she watches the speedometer and the view behind the windows, which changed into a continuous blur of blue and green. I can’t hear anything over the engine and adrenaline. I don’t even notice the moment when we overtake Tyluan and reach the town.

“Minuette!” Hexie screams, pointing to one of the gauges.

It’s amazing how many things you can process in about half a second.

In that time, I look at the gauge, to realise that the temperature is rising rather quickly. Meanwhile, I realise that white smoke surrounding us is not a cloud, but ethylene glicol coming from the radiator. I also have a brief thought about how I want my remains to be burned, put in a jar, and buried under a small, white stone at the coast near Haycife.

All that in just half a second.

I turn off the engine and feather the propeller. Little Cadance has a good lift and almost no minimal speed, so gliding in it is not really that hard. Besides, it’s not the first time I land it without the engine, so I’m strangely calm about that.

“I’m so not repairing that...” Hexie mutters, watching the ground getting closer. Ponies run away under us while we head to the airport just above the rooftops. Well, shit. We’re too low to make another circle, but too high to land just now. Not to mention that some moron parked an airship there and we nearly brush the balloon with our landing gear.

“Watch out, Hexie, we’ll be coming quickly!” I shout.

“I have enough of that, after yesterday...” Hexie nearly chokes when I suddenly dive towards the ground. I can almost hear the spectators screaming. We scrape some small tower with the tip of our wing, but luckily, it’s stronger than the rachitic construction.

The wheels hit the ground with a loud thud and I feel that I fly forward till my forehead hits the control board. Damn, not this again! I’m thrown back on my seat, realising that the collision with the tower thrown us off-course and we’re now rolling towards the bleachers. Well, at least the gear withstood the rough landing.

Hexie pushes all the brakes we have. Most of the ponies in front of us run away, apart of two: Lyra, who looks like a deer in the headlights of an incoming train and Ruby, who seems like she doesn’t care.

The brakes screech, smoke coming from them. Finally, the tip of the prop stops a few centimetres from Ruby, who looks at it from underneath her eyebrows. Lyra faints.

I suddenly realise that I’m drenched in sweat. My hooves are trembling when I untangle myself from the seatbelts and I nearly fall when I try to stand up.

Interestingly, I can still hear Trixie and Vinyl’s voices coming from the pitiful ruins that used to be a wooden tower next to the bleachers.

“The Great and Powerful Trixie can’t see shit!”

“Then watch out...” Vinyl’s voice shudders. “I got really scared and–”

“Aaargh!”

Somepony opens the door of the plane. I turn back to see Inkie, Daring Do, and Tyluan rushing to us.

“Are you okay, Minuette?” Tyluan asks.

I stand up and walk to the door without saying a word. What the hell happened to me? I almost got us killed! Inkie tries to wipe blood from my forehead, but I push her away. Some guys come to me with a bottle of champagne, but I don’t see them; hell, I just make use of my teleportation skills and hide in the crowd.

I come back to the plane by the evening, after I’m sure my friends stopped looking for me. Or rather, they started to look for me in bars, ditches, and the city morgue. I take a sip from a bottle of beer and grab a few wrenches and a screwdriver. I need to see how much damage lack of coolant did and what the hell happened to the radiator.

Well, at least it seems that there’s no hole in it. The heat, along with me pushing the engine to its limits caused the temperature and pressure of the coolant to raise enough to open the safety valve. The engine doesn’t seem damaged, especially since I turned it off quickly, but I’d better change all the gaskets, if only to keep myself busy.

“I knew you’d be here.”

“Fuck off.” I don’t even bother turning to Tyluan. “I’m busy.”

“Vinyl is trying to contact you with an barrel of vodka and ouija board,” Tyluan says. “You’d better go back to them before she makes friends with Purple Watchmaker of Light or Ponsofay, the elder god of so–”

“Yeah, I get the idea,” I mutter, throwing a spanner on the ground. “But I guess you underestimate Vinyl’s skills. She’d end up screwing those guys in their metaphysical butts with a stainless steel strap-on.”

“That’s quite likely, yeah.” Tyluan nods and looks at me as I sit down, resting against the wheel. “So... What was that?”

“Well, I just kinda realised that I almost got myself, Hexie, and many other ponies killed,” I reply. “Like, it didn’t bother me before, but–”

“I get it.” Tyluan chuckles. “You jumped from your ego on your IQ and realised that it was quite a long way down.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“But you must admit that your ego is so big it has its own gravity field.” Tyluan shrugs. “How do you think why all those ponies keep hanging out with you?”

“Oh please,” I say. “If something was wrong with my brilliant mind, I wouldn’t be here right now. How do you think, why I survived in the middle of frozen north, with griffons thinking that Equestria attacked them? That’s a classified information, but I guess you know when to shut up.”

“Probably the same way as me when it was just me, Wild Hunt and the whole Manehattan mob against us,” Tyluan replies.

“Manehattan mob?” I roll my eyes. “Please. When I was a journalist, I infiltrated gang of cannibals living there and lived to tell the tale.”

“How about Neighponese gangsters?” Tyluan smirks. “Wild Hunt and I stole a suitcase of diamonds from them once. They sent guys with katanas after us. One of them nearly gelded me.”

“I stole a sword from the heavily-guarded museum.” Well, I’d rather omit that part where Flitter, Cloudchaser, and Blossomforth kicked our flanks. “And it’s good those guys missed. That’d be a pity.”

Tyluan nods. “Yeah, I’ve heard about that... Wait, what?”

I smirk. “Admit it... You’d miss your balls if they ended up in a Neighponese restaurant.”

“Well, kinda.” He blushes. “Just like... anyone, I guess. You want me to feel awkward and go away, right?”

“I can partially agree,” I say with a chuckle. “Let’s say that I don’t want you to go away.”

I can almost hear his thoughts. “Well...” He looks at the ground below his hooves. “You kinda missed the whole celebration after the race...”

“Well, I don’t feel bad for that reason, but if you mention that...” I smirk. “The cockpit isn’t very comfortable, but there’s a plenty of place in the back...”

“And what happened then?”

We had sex and that’s all you need to know, missy. You’re far too young for the details and–

“Hey! I’m almost thirteen!”

Even if you were old enough, Berryshine III, I wouldn’t tell you the details because I don’t remember them after thirty years. Not to mention that–

“Don’t call me Berryshine! My name is–”

I know your name, kid. And don’t you know that it’s rude to interrupt the older ponies? Just ask your mom. Anyway, two weeks later, we were gathering stuff and waiting for Cherry Berry...

Ruby stops by the stall and looks at the gems displayed there. “Rubies,” she mutters. “Can I get a ruby necklace?”

“If you have money...” I reply, staring at a bunch of shovels. I’m not sure if we’ll need them, but it doesn’t hurt to look. It’ll be probably better to buy some in Haygypt anyway.

“Oh, come on.” Ruby rolls her eyes. “It’s my birthday soon.”

“It’s not,” I say. “You were born in January and I remember that well because I had to run to the hospital through the snow to stop your mother from strangling the nurse.”

I’d rather not mention the part when Berry said something about kid’s head ruining her precious cunt. Ruby is screwed up enough without that, not to mention that after my little outburst two weeks ago everyone treats me like a live grenade. I’m planning to get drunk and end up in bed with Vinyl to show them that I’m fine.

“If I, by some freaky accident, end up with a kid one day, I’ll call them Berryshine Corundum.”

“So they don’t have a nice second name to use because the first one sucks?” I ask. “Not that there’s something bad about Berryshine. Berry uses it.”

“I know,” Ruby mutters. “But I don’t wanna be mistaken for my mother, you know.” She shrugs, looking at her cutie mark. “And corundums are quite hard.”

“Aren’t rubies red corundums?” I ask. “Also, I guess your way of parenting may catch on. Or rather, I’m afraid of that.”

“I’d tell you to go fuck yourself, but I’ve heard that bat pony isn’t in town.” Ruby smirks.

“How do you–” Suddenly, I’m interrupted by the noise of engines. A large shadow passes through the market. I look up to see the machine casting it. It looks like a bastard kid of a boat and a plane, with two engines on the wing, which is attached to a pylon protruding from the rest of it. It shines brightly – no wonder since it was painted only recently.

“Let’s go,” I say to Ruby. “Auntie Cherry Berry arrived.”

“Do we go to the airport?” Ruby asks.

“Nah, she already missed it,” I reply. “I think the river is a safe bet.”

We rush through the marketplace. At least the crowd is not an obstacle – most of the ponies are chasing the aircraft anyway. Hell, as soon as we get out of the labyrinth of narrow streets leading to the harbour, I see Trixie, tearing her way through the crowds like a hyperactive icebreaker.

“Make way for Trixie!” she yells. “Flying machines over the town are her thing! If Trixie defeated the Ursa Major, she can handle them too!”

“Tell them that more and one of them will bring Ursa Major to check if that’s true!” I yell to her. She blushes and hides in the crowd.

The flying boat circles over the river, scaring the shit out of a few schmucks in their own, completely non-flying ships. After they run away, she lowers her flight, splashing into the water and getting us all wet. Soon, the aircraft emerges, going slowly towards the pier. The engines stop and somepony from the inside throws us a rope.

I look around and notice Wild Hunt standing nearby. She’s covered in dust which can only be cement. Next to her, there’s some dumbfounded guy with traces of concrete on his hooves.

“Will this ever end?” Wild Hunt asks. “I can’t work because of you.”

The door in the back of the plane opens. Cherry Berry walks out of it and climbs on the pier. She’s wearing a sombrero, shutter shades, and a grenade bandolier full of beer cans. She looks at the ponies standing by the shore and smirks widely.

“Zdravstvuyte, rebyata! Cherry Berry yells.

“Err... Wrong country.” Mjölna steps out of the plane and smiles sheepishly. “We had a short break in Mexicolt, boss. Well, it’d be shorter if we didn’t have to look for Cherry...”

“We?” I ask. “Who else is there?”

“Hello.” The yellow coat and aquamarine mane of the pony emerging from the aircraft is unmistakable. Sunshower Raindrops got her first flight as the second pilot.

Of all the thieves, whores, misfits, small-time criminals, failed engineers, magicians, electricians, crocodile tamers, professional shit-stirrers, asylum runaways, idiots, peasants, beggars, bankers, tankers, wankers, lawyers, sociology graduates, bums, drunkards, orphans, brawlers, bawlers, bastards, hicks, dicks, ticks, and underwater basket weaving specialists I hired, Sunshower Raindrops is probably the most interesting case. For starters, she’s a pegasus, so her fascination with flying machines is rather unusual. Also, she and Derpy are the only ones who had any previous experiences in cargo shipping.

Well, the all-pegasus company they worked for was rather... shady, to say at least. They were notorious for violating workplace safety, often dropping heavy stuff at ponies. Not to mention that the stuff they delivered was sometimes hardly legal: Raindrops eventually resigned after the package she had to deliver to the client’s own hooves mysteriously exploded right after she left.

Well, she failed to see the connection at first, but it was for the best: the cops who caught her had no doubts that she was too dumb to orchestrate it all by herself. When she was released, Derpy brought her to us and the rest is history.

“Okay, so you’re all here,” I say. “It’ll take a while before Inkie and I learn to control Hot Coco, so you’ll stay and help us.”

“Inkie!” Cherry Berry exclaims. “I have a message for her!”

“We’ll meet her soon. After we go to Haygypt, you’ll take Little Cadance and bring Ruby back to Equestria.”

“Wait, what?” Ruby asks. “I’m not going back to Equestria! I want to go to Haygypt with you!”

“It’s too dangerous,” I reply.

“That’s why you’ll need someone intelligent to–”

“Chill out, kid.” Raindrops walks to us. “Equestria might not be Haygypt, but it’s cool too. Like, Dinky misses you...”

“Fuck her. I’m not going!”

“We’ll talk about it later,” I say. “Same with your language. I’m pretty sure it’s time for dinner, right?”

“Right!” Cherry Berry smiles. “Time to eat and fuck bitches. Snowdrop, Mjolna, after me!”

Mjölna rolls her eyes. “It’s ‘Mjölna’, for pony’s sake! I really like that umlaut, y’know.”

“Oh please,” Raindrops sighs. “Do I really look like a blind filly from the legends?”

Cherry Berry turns to her and takes a closer look. Like, really close. She nearly pushes Raindrops to the river. “Kinda,” she says. “Also, that’d explain why you fly like you were blind. Because you are!”

“Fuck you too,” Raindrops mutters.

Cherry Berry nods. “I could use a good stallion.”

I get through the crowd and reach Raindrops before she slams her head against the pavement. “Titanium plate in the skull,” I whisper. “You can’t win.”

“I see,” Raindrops mutters. “Contrary to a popular belief. Can we at least get that diner so I can kill myself by overeating?”

Whoever cooks for Trixie, they do that pretty well and soon, Raindrops gets rid of suicidal thoughts. However, since the beginning of the diner, when Inkie enters the dining room with Daring Do and Vinyl, we’re haunted by bad incidents.

“I got a message for you!” Cherry Berry exclaims. Without any further explanations, she walks to Inkie and smacks her in the face.

“What was that for?” Inkie asks, rubbing her cheek.

“Ms. Coco said that you shouldn’t wrestle any minotaurs!” Cherry Berry smiles proudly. “But she has another message for you...” She winces and leans closer to Inkie. She then embraces her and kisses her passionately. Vinyl raises her sunglasses, barely noticing that she started to drool.

Then, as abruptly as before, Cherry Berry breaks out the kiss, jumps back and spits on the floor. “Someone has vodka?” she asks. “I need disinfection.”

“Have this.” Vinyl levitates a hip flask.

“Thanks, PVC,” Cherry Berry says. “Hey, you’re bleeding!”

“Where?” Vinyl looks between her hind legs. “I knew you can’t trust cucum– Wait, it’s not that...”

“Your nose,” Lyra says. “Like in those–”

“Oh please.” Daring Do rolls her eyes. “Lyra, don’t remind me about your comics! I spent two weeks in an intermodal container with nothing but them to read.” She shudders. “And you know I react badly to tentacles because... well, reasons. And can we, please, get back to our plans?”

“Trixie’s plans are simple,” Trixie says. “She’ll go to Haygypt with you and spent some lovely time on the beach.”

“How about your business here?” I ask, seeing that Daring Do is rolling her eyes.

“Trixie already told Paco to tell ponies that Trixie is the daughter of the sultan and one of his mistresses, who ran away from the harem and now has to go back to reclaim her treasure.”

“Haygypt. Has. No. Sultan.” Daring Do whispers, punctuating each word with banging her head against the table.

“Calm your crotchboobs, Daring,” Vinyl says, patting Daring Do’s mane. “It’s not like anyone here knows it. Like, I’m pretty sure some ponies here still think it has a pharaoh or something...”

“I’m calm.” Daring Do is indeed calm, though it’s that kind of calm that happens when you want to blow up something big, but instead of the kaboom there’s silence. And you know that somepony will have to go there to check what went wrong and disarm the whole thing before trying one more time.

Well, in this case, Vinyl volunteered.

“So, if you’re calm, just sit back and eat your tomatoes,” Vinyl says. “We’re going to Haygypt. That’s the most important.”

“This spoon will soon find its way to your eye socket,” Daring Do says calmly. “And then I’ll turn it till you’re deader than those tomatoes.” She smirks. “Is that clear?”

“Totally. Yes.” Vinyl backs off and takes her seat. We spend the rest of the diner in silence.

After eating, Hexie puts her spoon on the table and gulps the remains of her drink. “Can I go with Mjölna to the plane? I’d like to see it…”

“Sure,” I reply, standing up and looking at Daring Do. “The atmosphere here doesn’t exactly encourage free thinking.”

“I’ll go with you,” Vinyl mutters. “I know that to think freely one has to think in general, but I just need a cigarette.”

I look at her and roll my eyes. “No smoking on the plane. It can land on water, but it doesn’t mean that it’s fireproof.”

Vinyl sighs. “Yeah. I’ve learned this the hard way after I went for a cig next to that shed in the backyard which was full of fireworks.” She puts her chair in its place and walks out of the dining room.

Trixie chokes on a pinecone. She coughs for a while before Inkie slams her in the back. “Wait…” Trixie whispers. “What did that brute do to Trixie’s shed?”

I’ll save you, dear kids, the tale of our struggles with the new plane. It took us a while to get used to it, even though it was quite easy to pilot. It was nothing interesting, and since I’m going to tell you how this thing flew, that’d be even more boring and kinda redundant. Besides, I need a drink.

Where was I, then? Oh yeah, after Inkie and I felt confident enough to try flying Hot Coco to Haygypt, we had a little goodbye party. It was kinda sappy and I couldn’t drink since we were going to get out of Maneaus on the following day. We escorted Cherry Berry to the airport, made sure Ruby went there with them and came back to the hotel…

I trot up the stairs and walk down the corridor, when suddenly I notice something. The door to my room is slightly ajar and I remember locking it. Slowly, I walk to it, preparing my favourite spell. If the intruder is male, they’re never gonna have foals.

Sneaking by the wall, I wonder who could it be. Dr. Caballeron and his merry company didn’t show up since we left them in the jungle. Maybe they drowned, after all? Or maybe some creepy shit crawled out of the forest and ate them?

Well, they may as well be in my room. A few centimetres from the door, I bust them open and rush inside, my horn ready. I haven’t beaten anyone in a long time so…

“Freeze, motherfu–” I pause mid-jump, staring at my bed. Not only did I just catch Ruby Pinch in my room, even though she was supposed to be on a plane going to Equestria. I also caught her in a rather compromising position.

In other words, she’s humping her sleeping bag like there’s no tomorrow.

“Umm…” I say. Nothing else comes to my mind, so I try to put as much meaning in it as possible.

“Can you come back in a few minutes?” Ruby asks. “I’m figuring something out.”

“Once you do, be sure to wash your sleeping bag,” I say. “Though when I was your age, mom didn’t let me anywhere near the washing machine, for precisely the same reason.”

“I don’t get it,” Ruby mutters, giving her sleeping bag a look.

“You will,” I reply. “But anyway, why are you still here? I know Cherry Berry can be forgetful and I don’t really have high hopes about Raindrops, but at least Mjölna should’ve remembered about delivering you, bound and gagged, to your mother.”

“You forgot about one little detail,” Ruby replies. “I don’t have a passport.”

Celestia, give me patience, but not strength, or else I’ll strangle her. Of course, she doesn’t have a passport. And of course, this time they had no Daring Do to help them out.

“Auntie Cherry Berry tried to offer sexual favours to the customs officer,” Ruby says. “But I eventually said that I’ll just stay with you and she agreed.”

I sigh, using all my will to stop myself from trying some nasty spell on her. “You forgot about one thing… You can’t go to Haygypt without your passport.”

Ruby levitates something from the inside of her sleeping bag. “Auntie Cherry Berry brought it with her, but dropped it in front of the airport. When I found it, it was too late…”

Time for a disciplinary action. I levitate a hairbrush and walk to Ruby with it. “You’ll fly to Haygypt on your own when I smack you…”

“You’d never do that,” Ruby says, backpedalling.

“No, but remember that one day I may.” I use the brush to straighten her mane. “Also, we’re going to the port. There must be some ship going to Equestria.”

The door opens and Daring Do walks in. “What is she doing here?” she asks, looking at Ruby.

“Long story short, she screwed everyone over,” I reply.

“Good.” Daring Do walks to Ruby and pats her mane with her wing. “She’s going with us.”

“What?” I ask. “Why?”

Daring Do stands straight. “Sometimes, we need someone who can screw other ponies over. Right, kid?”

Ruby hops from my bed. “Yay!” She jumps, turning around in mid-air and walks out with Daring.

I sit on my bed. Well, at first I sit on something wet and realise that Ruby left her sleeping bag here. Eww! I toss it away.

The door opens again and Inkie walks inside. I must have a really weird expression, because her eyes immediately widen. “What happened?”

“Can I screw other ponies over?” I ask.

“My mom wouldn’t approve that,” Inkie replies. “Also, I’m pretty sure it’s banned by law… And most of the moral codes–”

I sigh. “I meant, am I able to do that?”

“Yes.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear, Inkie.”

“Though I have a feeling that you got softer recently…” Inkie blushes. “Not that it’s a bad thing.”

“Fuck.”

Finally, we leave Maneaus.

What I like about Hot Coco is that she doesn’t need to be refueled as often as Little Cadance. It also flies smoother—though not as smooth as the golden condor—and is much less tiring to work with the rudders. It can also land on water, even though I’d rather not try it on the sea below, due to high waves. But in case you have no water around, the retractable gear allows you to land almost anywhere.

The views quickly change. Green of the jungle is replaced by the grey and blue sea. The weather is sunny, with only a few clouds.

Inkie is sitting by my side, looking at the controls. She hums something to herself, but I can’t hear it over the engines and the noise from the back. It seems that Vinyl got her hooves on a guitar.

When I was a young mare, I carried me pack…

Oh, hell. She did.

“Hexie, tell her to shut up,” I mutter.

“Isn’t it that song you always cry to?” Inkie asks.

... we sailed off for Gallipony…

“Not ‘always’, but only when I’m drunk,” I reply. “Hexie, tell her that if she doesn’t stop, I’ll do a barrell roll.”

Hexie walks to the back of the plane. “Play something happy, or else Minuette will kill us all!” she yells.

“The Great and Powerful Trixie demands you to play that song about ten little foals!”

“How about the one about a dragon and twin fillies?” Vinyl asks. I hear a few upbeat guitar chords.

“I still don’t get it,” I say to Inkie. “Why did Daring want to take Ruby with us?”

“Maybe when she saw her, she saw herself in her younger years?” Inkie asks.

“No way,” I mutter. “She wanted to piss us off, because our antics piss her off. So now, when Ruby pulled such a stunt, she insists on taking her with us.”

“And have her mission ruined if Ruby does something bad?” Inkie shrugs. “She has some deeper purpose in this.”

Bad? Ruby does bad things for breakfast. In Haygypt, she’ll start a war. “What can be the purpose of taking a little brat on what’s apparently an important mission?” To stop myself from thinking about that, I turn on the radio, listening to the ship navigators below us. A chatter in at least five languages fills my ears.

Lyra walks to us and looks through the window. “Have you ever wondered why cats think we exist to serve them?”

“I never had a cat,” I reply absentmindedly. “Maybe you happen to know what’s going on with Daring? Why is Ruby still with us, instead of a ship to Baltimare?”

“Oh, it’s simple,” Lyra replies. “You know, her editor said that she’ll need a character who’d appeal to kids.”

I nearly slam my head against the control board. “We have to deal with her because of a fucking plot device? Is she out of her mind?”

“Well, she kinda is…” Lyra is sweating visibly, looking at the back of the plane. “But she almost lost it when she heard about that crystal…”

“Inkie, dear, hold the rudder for me, please,” I say before turning back to Lyra. “So, there’s a crystal, right?”

“Umm…” Lyra backs off. Unfortunately for her, the cockpit isn’t very spacious, so there’s only wall behind her. “There’s that silver plate with the hieroglyphs…”

I stand up and walk to her, pushing her against the wall. “But at the very end of the road, there’s a crystal, right?”

“Right.” Lyra sighs.

“Is it expensive?”

“L-like hell,” Lyra mutters.

“What does this crystal do?” I ask.

“I don’t know!” Lyra exclaims. “Well, there’s a certain theory Daring has, but we can’t check it until we find it.”

“Is this thing dangerous?” I think for a while. “Well, it must be since those guys are looking for it too. Am I right?”

“P-possibly…” Lyra squeaks.

“Does it require sacrificing a foal in order to work?”

Lyra looks around nervously. “Well, I can neither confirm nor– wait, what? What are you suggesting?”

“I suggest we put Daring in some comfortable nuthouse once we’re on the ground,” I reply. “The warm climate should soothe her nerves.” I release Lyra and go back to my seat.

“So, what are we gonna do?” Inkie asks after Lyra runs away from the cockpit.

“We’ll observe carefully,” I reply, turning slightly left. I’d rather avoid the place which is labelled “Dragon’s Lair” on the map, you know. Like, a dragon can wake up and eat us or, worse, try to mate with our plane. History knows such cases.

Luckily, there are no dragons around this time and when a few days later we land on Casaflanca to refuel, we kinda miss the ground. Even Hexie, who usually prefers to stay inside, repairing small things and drinking, walks out with us.

“Hey, look!” Vinyl exclaims when we load barrels of fuel on a cart. “It’s those certified dragon slayers we met in Brayzil!” She waves at the certified virgin, who blushes, seeing her.

“Hello,” I say, trotting to the guy with an eyepatch. “What are you up to?”

“We’re travelling south, to fight dragons,” he replies. “How about you?”

“Small business in Haygypt,” I say.

“Oh…” He looks at me carefully. “Good luck then.”

“Good luck to you too.” I walk away to the cart.

We didn’t spend much time in Casaflanca, despite Vinyl’s attempts to convince us to stay for night in the port and sing songs together. Daring and I didn’t budge, even when Vinyl offered to play our favourite songs. And then when she said that she’d play them again.

In spite of that, we went back to the plane and shortly before dinner on the next day, we were in Hayiro. After circling above the town for a while, we chose the simplest solution and landed in the river, much to the bedazzlement of the ponies in town.

Well, “ponies” isn’t exactly a precise term. As soon as we get out of the plane, we’re surrounded by a bunch of camels, trying to sell us something. Well, I think one of them is trying to buy Ruby, but she kicks him in the leg. A pair of Saddle Arabians walks by, probably having a deep and meaningful conversation. Dunno, I don’t know Saddle Arabian.

“Where can I buy that towel they’re wearing on their heads?” Vinyl asks.

“It’s called ‘turban’,” I reply. “And you already have a sombrero.”

“The sombrero is from Mexicolt, now I need something from here,” Vinyl replies, trotting to a stand stacked with colourful fabric. “Err...“ She raises her hoof. “Salami alley cum… or something. Umm…” Before she can come up with more broken Saddle Arabic, the camel grabs a piece of blue silk and wraps it around her in such a way that it covers her mane – an impressive feat, if you ask me.

“That’s not what I wanted,” Vinyl mutters.

“It’s a hijab and he wants you to pay him twenty bits for it,” Daring Do walks to Vinyl. She then says something to the camel who started a long, loud speech.

“What?” Vinyl asks, looking at Daring unsurely.

“I told him that you can pay ten and he’s now telling me a story of his starving family.”

Vinyl grabs her wallet. “I can pay him twenty…”

“He’d get offended and his family is definitely not starving,” Daring Do replies. “It’s a local habit. Give him fifteen bits and you’re set.”

Vinyl pays and we walk down the street. I look around – small houses made of clay are almost invisible, completely obscured by the crowd. It’s pretty hot – soon everyone will hide from the sun in the cool interiors of local cafes.

Suddenly, among the crowd consisting mostly of various shades of grey, brown, and yellow, I notice a white and blonde spot. Damn. One can’t even go to the other side of the planet without meeting someone familiar.

“Aryanne!” I exclaim. “Long time no see.”

The pony turns to me. Dammit. When I was seeing only her back, I couldn’t, of course, notice her green eyes and I assumed that the red bow in her mane was a fashion choice. But I somehow missed a pair of pegasus wings and a cutie mark consisting of a black cross surrounded by four pink hearts.

“Was?” she asks. “Wer sind Sie?”

Damn, how is ‘resemble’ in Pferdisch? I could use that word right now.

“Kyrie!” A stallion’s voice tears the air. A tall, white unicorn walks to us and says something in Pferdisch quickly. Kyrie gives me a panicked look before replying to him. He apparently doesn’t want to listen, as he cuts her off quickly.

“Jawohl, Herr Kloppenführer!” Kyrie salutes and flies away. The unicorn disappears as quickly as he appeared earlier.

“Did you recognise him?” Inkie asks, looking into the sky.

“Of course,” I reply. “We played poker in Maneaus. I wonder what he’s doing here...”

“I don’t know, but I’d let that girl whip me and yell curses in Pferdisch all night long,” Vinyl says. “I wonder if she and Aryanne are twins.”

“I guess they come from the same rack of test tubes in some eugenics research institute,” I reply.

“No way, they had separate racks for earth ponies, unicorns, and pegasi.” Hexie looks around nervously seeing our stares. “I mean… Did you hear what they said to each other?”

“Not really, they were talking inconveniently fast,” I say. “Will you enlighten us?”

“Well, he asked her why she was talking with that Fotze.” Hexie furrows her eyebrows, looking for the right word. “Cunt. I guess he meant you, boss.”

“Oh, really? Go on.”

“She said something about you surprising her, but he told her to fuck off and go back to the hideout,” Hexie replies. “That’s all.”

“I’d like to know what they’re up to…” Daring Do mutters.

“Well, Trixie would like to know what are those guys up to…”

When I look in the direction Trixie is pointing at, I see yet another two friends from Maneaus: no one else but Dr. Caballeron himself, assisted by his somewhat flamboyant henchpony, Withers.

“How did they learn we were here?” Inkie asks. “And how did they get here before us?”

Daring Do sighs. “Well, we wasted enough time for them to come here by ship,” she replies, giving Trixie a heavy glare. “As for the first question… If I recall correctly, somepony told the whole town about her life as a Haygyptian princess…”

Trixie gulps, sweating heavily.

While Trixie admits it wasn’t the luckiest choice of words, it’s not a reason to cum buckets over it.

Chill breeze blows through the orchard, drying my sweat. I wipe my forehead, staring at all the apple trees in front of me and thinking how long it’ll take me to buck all of them. The sun is shining and I feel like taking a short nap under one of the trees, when I see Big Mac going up the hill.

For a moment, I can’t gather my thoughts, too busy staring at the well-toned muscles under his skin. His lungs must be strong like pipe organ’s bellows to keep all that oxygenated. I’m watching all those bulging veins and I can’t help but wonder how much stamina he has. Like, I’m pretty sure he can last for hours…

“I brought ya water.” I can barely hear Big Mac’s voice, too busy watching… something.

“Thanks,” I say, blinking and looking at the apple trees behind me. “Umm… Would it matter if we had a short break in some, umm… place where your sisters can’t see us?”

“Eeyup,” Big Mac replies, a wide smile on his face. “There’s a cozy barn nearby…”

“Awesome.” I nod. “Don’t waste time. I’m still a few trees behind my daily norm.”

Big Mac smirks and says, “THE GREAT AND POWERFUL TRIXIE DEMANDS YOU TO WAKE UP!”

“What the fuck?” I exclaim, rising from the bed and nearly hitting the low ceiling with my head. I look around and notice Trixie and Vinyl standing by my side. “You’ve interrupted such a nice dream…”

“I see,” Vinyl mutters, chuckling. “You know, you talk in your sleep.”

Hell, no. “I… do?”

“Not much,” Vinyl replies. “Body language, however...” She makes a humping motion.

Trixie sighs. “Anyway, Daring Do told us to wake you up. We’re going to see the pyramid.”

“And penetrate it,” Vinyl added. “She said so.”

Trixie rolls her eyes. “But she didn’t use it in the meaning you use it. While Trixie admits it wasn’t the luckiest choice of words, it’s not a reason to cum buckets over it.”

Vinyl looks at Trixie and lifts her glasses. Trixie shrugs and smirks, before walking away from the plane. I follow her with Vinyl to join Lyra, Daring, and Inkie waiting for us on the pier. Hexie will stay here in case our friends wanted to visit and I’d rather lick Vinyl’s ass than let Ruby go with us.

At least she actually wants to stay, for once. That is, after I told her that she may shoot somepony if they’re hostile. I hope Hexie keeps her away from anything that shoots.

We grab our equipment and walk across the town. It’s early morning; first merchants sit in the shadow of the palm trees, offering us tea, pita bread, and ful medames.

“No, thanks,” Vinyl mutters, staring at the plate. “Are those fava beans? I have favism, you know.”

“You have what?” Inkie asks, munching on the beans. “My granny used to eat those. She was shaking less after them.”

“I’m pretty sure she means glucose-6-phosphate dehydrogenase deficiency,” Lyra says. “If Vinyl ate that, hemolysis and jaundice would occur, although it’s probably not as serious, due to the X-linked pattern of inheritance–”

“Yeah, that’s very helpful,” Vinyl mutters. “If I ate those beans, I’d turn yellow and faint.”

“Then never eat them, unless you want to be dramatic,” Daring Do says. She had already devoured half of a plate. “Also, I’ve heard they can give you bad wind.”

“I’m not walking behind you, then,” I mutter.

We finish the meal and walk out of the town. You know those photos of the pyramids, depicting them standing in the middle of the desert? Bullshit. If you put your camera on the other side of them, you’d have a wonderful view of the nearby town.

“So, I guess we’ll have to go inside,” Daring Do says, trotting towards the biggest pyramid. “After all, those guys brought the plate in there…”

Suddenly, two guys walk out from behind the pyramid. One of them is a camel, while the other is a donkey. They’re both wearing khaki uniforms and have very official looks on their faces.

“What are you doing here?” the camel asks. “Do you have a permission for digging in this place?”

Well, shit. We have shovels, pickaxes, and other archeological equipment and we’re on our way to an ancient grave in a country that is righteously pissed about all those tomb raiders stealing precious stuff from them. And we’re caught red-hoofed even before getting there.

“Excuse me,” Daring Do says. “You may have not noticed, but I’m professor A.K. Yearling, Department of Ancient History, University of Fillydelphia.”

“Do you have a permission to dig here?” the donkey asks. “Also, who are those ponies?”

“Minuette R. Turner, M.Eng, Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns, Department of Magical Technology,” I reply, making the same expression as Daring Do. Well, my alma mater probably disowned me a long time ago, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m an engineer and you can totally trust me.

“Lyra Heartstrings, PhD, MA, Ba, BSc,” Lyra says.

“Most of it is BS,” Vinyl mutters. “Vinyl Scratch, Stick and Butt’s school of life. Also, Canterlot Academy of Music.”

“The Great and Powerful Trixie doesn’t need formal education.”

“My name is Inkie and, umm… I know rocks.”

“Do they have the permission to dig here?” the donkey asks, looking at us as if we were a mildly amusing comedic act.

“No, but we’re extremely persistent,” Lyra replies, earning a glare from Daring Do. “What? We’re like methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus aureus. We’ll stay here, as Vinyl once put it, ad mortuum defecatum.”

“Donkeys live a long life. None of you has ever seen a dead donkey,” the donkey replies.

“Lyra, do me a favour and don’t engage in diplomacy. Ever.” Daring Do whispers before turning back to the donkey. “We’ll get a permission as soon as possible. Where can we do that?”

“Too bad, there’s already a group from Trottingham working in the pyramid,” the camel says. “And the limit of submissions for this year has already been reached in January. You can apply, but you’ll get accepted in October next year.”

Daring Do sighs. “Ibn himar…”

“Son of a donkey?” the donkey asks. “Correct.”

“Not correct for me,” the camel mutters. “Oh, hello, doctor.”

I turn to see Dr. Caballeron walking past the guards. “Hey, wait!” I exclaim. “What is he doing here? Did he get a permission, or what?”

Dr. Caballeron stops to look at me. “Well, I’m not digging here,” he replies. “Professor Drop A. Stone from the University of Trottingham heard that I was in Haygypt and asked me for a consultation.”

“What?” Daring Do takes off. Why didn’t she do that before is a question only she knows the answer to. “If he knew I was here, he’d definitely consult me too!” She flies towards the pyramid. “Hey, Stone! Are you there?”

Someone walks from behind the pyramid. I try to look closer and even though he’s far from us, I can see that it’s an elderly stallion with a grey mane and pince-nez. Despite the warmth, he’s wearing a plaid jacket and a turtleneck.

“Professor Yearling!” he exclaims. “I see that you and doctor finally got together…”

“Over my dead body,” Daring Do mutters.

“Well, that’s not what you said when the water was flooding that ancient seapony temple in Chineigh and we were about to die…” Dr. Caballeron smiles. “Somehow, this line never made it to the novel.”

Daring Do blushes. “I was an infatuated young mare. Anyway, Professor Stone, could you tell the guards to let my assistants in? They’re experts in various fields and they may help you with your discoveries.”

“Of course, my fair filly,” Professor Stone replies and waves at the camel and donkey. As if on cue, they roll their eyes and move out of the way. We join Daring Do and Dr. Caballeron.

“Just remember,” I whisper to Vinyl. “He doesn’t know about the silver plate and it has to stay that way.”

“Of course,” Vinyl replies. “I’ll shut up.”

“Tell that to Trixie. I’m not worried about Inkie, but Lyra and Trixie may spill the beans. One because of having no social skills and the other because of too many social skills.”

“Okay.” Vinyl turns to Inkie and whispers into her ear. Inkie looks at her, but when Vinyl prods her, she turns to Trixie and whispers. Trixie whispers back and the whole message goes back to me.

“Penis,” Vinyl mutters into my ear.

“What?”

“I was joking. Trixie said that she’ll shut up. Also, Inkie has a lisp, but only when she whispers.”

I shrug and look at Daring Do. She stopped to notice us, busy discussing some old brick with Stone and Caballeron. To my surprise, Inkie trots to them.

“May I?” she asks. Professor Stone gives her a brick. She scratches some dust from its surface and licks her hoof. “Clay from the river.” She winces. “Pretty old. I’d say a few thousand years, but I’m not sure.”

“How can you know?” Professor Stone asks, lifting his pince-nez.

“I don’t know that much.” Inkie blushes. “Maud would know how old it was exactly and where the rock came from, and what exactly happened to it…” Inkie turns the brick around and blushes even more. “Oh.”

“Incredible,” Professor Stone mutters. “That’s the oldest proof of an existence of phallic cults in this region.”

Daring Do and Dr. Caballeron look at each other and give out a groan.

“You mean it’s a dick, right?” Vinyl asks. “You know, I’m kinda like Inkie in that matter. One lick and I’ll know how old it is, where it comes from and where it was before…” She looks at me and Trixie. “Oh… I was supposed to shut up, wasn’t I?”

Meanwhile, Professor Stone is in his own little kingdom of phallic cults. “There’s something written in there… V. S. 979”

“Maybe V is a number?” Dr. Caballeron asks. “Five.”

“Then why the rest of numbers is Saddle Arabian?” Daring Do asks. “Frankly, I have no idea what that could mean.”

Oh fuck. I just realised that I know exactly what it means. I grab Vinyl’s mane and pull her to me.

“You did something to that brick, didn’t you?” I whisper into her ear.

“How?” Vinyl asks. “I didn’t even have it in my hooves.”

“A picture of a dick, your initials and year of birth. Too much for a coincidence,” I reply.

Vinyl blushes. “Okay… But I did it when we were in the past.”

“What?” I exclaim, loudly enough for Lyra to turn to us. “H-how?”

“Normally, I scratched it,” Vinyl replies. “I thought no one would know since it was just a trip we had when we were high out of our minds, right?”

I sigh and slap my forehead with my hoof. “Then why there’s a bunch of archeologists here, discussing the historical significance of your dick?”

Lyra raises her eyebrows, looks between Vinyl’s legs, shrugs, and goes back to listening Daring Do arguing with her colleagues.

“You see phallic cults everywhere, Drop,” Dr. Caballeron says, raising his hoof. “Once you tried to convince me an ancient Minotaurian brothel was a temple.”

“Because it was a temple!” Professor Stone replies, putting his glasses back on his nose. “What else could it be?”

“Let’s say it was a temple of, umm… a more practical religion.” Daring Do rolls her eyes. “No one gives a damn about cults anymore. Professor, didn’t you find something else? Like, dunno, stone or metal plates with inscriptions? I believe in written word more than in speculations.”

“Smooth like a sandpaper dildo,” I mutter.

“The Great and Powerful Trixie can’t help but agree with that observation.”

Professor Stone’s eyes widen behind the lenses. He backpedals, piercing Daring Do with her gaze. “You didn’t…”

“What?” Daring Do asks, innocently.

“Get out!” Professor Stone yells. “Both of you!”

“Gotta go to the toilet,” Vinyl whispers into my ear and runs away.

“Why?” Dr. Caballeron asks, getting out of Professor Stone’s way. “What did I do?”

“Leave the bloody area or I shall call the guards!” Stone shouts, spraying the saliva around. He turns to Inkie. “Especially you! I don’t like the way you look!”

“Did I say something wrong?” Inkie asks.

“Get out or you’ll be able to feel that rock’s texture with your arse!” Professor Stone pushes Inkie away. Big mistake. It’s not easy to piss Inkie off, but once you manage to do that, you’ll have to deal with the consequences. Such as an uppercut that throws your spectacles into the air and causes you to land on your back.

Inkie catches the pince-nez in mid-air and gives them back to the professor. He doesn’t take them, too busy holding his jaw. Some of his assistants, as well as the guards gather around us.

“The Great and Powerful Trixie advises to run,” Trixie mutters… right before throwing a smoke bomb on the ground.

Smooth. I teleport past the ponies running at me. I can see Daring Do flying above me and judging from the terrified screams, Inkie decides to simply charge at the professor’s assistants, making way for Trixie, Lyra, and Caballeron.

We run for some time, but it doesn’t seem that anyone bothers chasing us. Like, they saw a sample of our possibilities and decided to reconsider any further attempts at physical assault. Thus, we stop behind a dune to catch a breath.

“Seems that Stone lost a few marbles,” Caballeron mutters. “Now he only sees fertility cults and phallic symbols everywhere.”

“Happened to him a while ago,” Daring Do replies. “It was especially noticeable when I was working with him. I’m afraid that Inkie didn’t manage to kick some reason into his brain. I didn’t, back then.”

Caballeron chuckles. “Pray tell me, Ms. Yearling… Was there any archeologist you didn’t have any kind of unprofessional relationship with?”

“Yes. You.” Daring Do gives him a nasty look. “On a side note, would you kindly get the hell out of here? You’ve seen what Inkie can do and I can assure you it’s not all of her possibilities.”

“Well, I guess I’ll indeed leave your company,” Dr. Caballeron replies. “You may leave me drowning in a river again, or something.” He looks around. “Well, no rivers in sight, but I’m pretty sure you have that covered.” He turns and walks away.

Suddenly, I realise that my life is far less annoying than it should be. “Wait,” I say. “Where’s–”

“Weeee!” Vinyl rolls of the top of the dune and knocks me off my hooves. “Hello,” she says, standing up. “I thought this moron will never stop talking.”

“Where were you?” Daring Do asks.

“I was in the toilet, taking a…” Vinyl clears her throat. “... closer look at what your friend is hiding from us. It’s our silver plate.”

“Damn,” Lyra mutters. “Do you have it?”

“No.”

“We need to get back and steal it,” Lyra says. “I’m pretty sure Minuette can do that. When we were students, she broke into an off-licence and then we got Moondancer dru–”

“Lyra, please,” I mutter. “We won’t rob the old guy, even though he’s an annoying Bridleish fart-muncher.”

“We won’t have to.” Vinyl shows us a photo of the silver plate. “I have this!”

“How did you get that?” I ask, looking at the photo. Too bad I can’t recognise the letters on it, not to mention any words.

“Blew the photographer.”

Trixie winces, her face turning green. “That’s a bit more than Trixie wanted to know.”

“I meant ‘Blue, the photographer,” Vinyl says, exaggerating every comma and every nonexistent difference in pronunciation. “His name was Blue Sky and he was nice enough to give me a copy.”

“Awesome.” Daring Do grabs a copy of the photo from Vinyl’s hoof. “Hmm… Damn.”

“What’s wrong?” Lyra asked, looking at the photo. “Oh crap.”

“What’s wrong?” I walk to them and take a look at the photo. I’m not sure what they saw there, but for me it’s just a few lines of something that looks like Ponysutra for ants and earthworms, chapter about three- and foursomes.

“It’s ancient Sumareian,” Daring Do replies. “We had only three lectures of it and I just happened to be sick.”

“I never took those classes,” Lyra says. “Everypony knows that ancient Sumareians only wrote some comedies of rather doubtful quality before ancient Haytites attacked their city and skinned all the citizens. Thus, no one ever learns their language. Especially since it’s kinda difficult, with seven grammatical genders and thirty cases.”

“Apparently Berius Puncius did,” Daring Do mutters.

“Excuse me.” Vinyl raises her head. “While the idea of seven genders speaks to me on many levels, what are those cases you’re talking about?”

“Declination in Neightin, remember?” Lyra smirks. “Also, Pferdisch has four cases, Ponish has seven and seaponies in Finland use fifteen.”

Vinyl rubs her temples. “Why did they even need thirty?”

“I guess that’s why they were skinned,” I mutter. “They were pissing off everyone around. But you said someone gives classes of this language, right? It’s not, like, completely dead?”

“No,” Daring Do replies. “There’s quite a handy phrasebook, but it’s very rare. Only a few libraries around the world have it.”

I sigh. “Great. Where’s the nearest one?”

“Istabmule,” Daring Do replies. “Just a few hours from here, I think, but I’d rather not leave Caballeron alone. I’m pretty sure he’ll be here again tomorrow.”

“You can always stay, boss,” Lyra says. “We’ll go there with Minuette and come back as soon as possible.”

“The Great and Powerful Trixie knows Istabmule well,” Trixie says. “She had an… acquaintance there.”

“When?” I ask. “Well, I sometimes have a feeling that I did more things than it should be possible in thirty years, but when exactly did you manage to get to Istabmule, find somepony there, dump them, get back to Equestria, and become a stage magician?”

“Remember that Trixie grew up in a circus,” Trixie replies. “She did that when she was fourteen. It lasted about five seconds. And he was a griffon.”

“What?!” Vinyl exclaims. “No friggin’ way… Trixie scored before me… With a griffon! I get Minuette, because Caramel boned her when she was twenty, but me?”

“Nineteen,” I mutter. “I was still nineteen.”

“Twenty six.” Daring Do shrugs. “We were more strict back then. And I won’t tell you who it was because the last thing I want is ponies talking. The more important thing right now is who else is going to Istabmule.”

“I’ll go,” Inkie replies. “Minuette will need a second pilot. I guess Hexie will go too.”

Lyra raises her hoof. “I’ll look for that book.”

“And, of course, I’ll provide moral support,” Vinyl says. “You’ll need somepony clever, after all.”

“So, basically, you’re gonna leave me here with Ruby?” Daring Do asks in a voice barely above a whisper.

“You wanted her to go with us yourself,” I say. “Deal with her now. Dunno, teach her how to spy on ponies without trying to bite them to death or something.”

Suddenly, it occurs to me that it’s probably not the wisest idea.

“Fine,” Daring Do mutters. “But don’t sit there for too long.”

The trip to Istabmule is indeed rather short – it takes us just a few hours, most of which we spent talking about our destination.

The town is mostly inhabited by griffons, though contrary to a popular belief, only some of them look like turkeys. It’s located on both sides of the Broncorus stray – exactly between Stirrup and Neighsia. A capital of the Trottoman Empire and a residence of its sultan, who apparently reigned large parts of what currently is the southeastern part of the Griffon Empire. Well, Lyra says that now the sultan reigns mostly the Trotkapi Palace, but the whole country still appears powerful. My grandfather definitely would tell me a few things if he heard that I was flying above Gallipony.

Due to its location between two continents, the whole town is a hub for the merchants, tourists, and, most interestingly, spies from half of the world. We learn about it quickly – as soon as we enter the airspace above the town, we’re intercepted by a squadron of griffons. At least I can talk to their leader on the radio.

“Identify yourself,” I hear from the speaker. Hmm, didn’t they hear about ‘hello’?

“We’re tourists and scientists from Equestria,” I reply. “My name’s Minuette and I’m the pilot of this aircraft. Is there some flat place for us to land here? It can also be water. Also, it’d be nice if you identified yourself as well, mate.”

“Mızrak Bey, the squadron leader of the 38th Squadron of Air Janissaries. You can only land in our base, Minuette Hatun. Then we’ll decide if we can set you free.”

Your mother was a hatun, you feather duster. “Why?” I ask.

“Haven’t you heard about the summit?” Mızrak Bey asks. “VIPs from across the world discuss the peace process in Zebrica. You must understand that we don’t take unidentified flying objects lightly.”

“I can imagine,” I reply. “Okay, guide us to your base and then you’ll see that we’re too retarded to try anything funny.”

Lyra clears her throat. “Well, technically, we could pretend that we’re dumb to get closer and–”

“Shut up,” I whisper. “Do you want them to put a probe in your ass to check for bombs?”

“I would,” Vinyl mutters. “How big is that probe? Because I trained with stuff of various sizes and I’m pretty sure I can even take that big rock on Inkie’s parents’ farm.”

“You know what would happen if you tried?” Inkie asks. “Last time somepony touched the Holder’s Boulder, we were a red… umm…”

“Red cunt’s hair away from a religious war?” Hexie shrugs. “You know when I last saw ponies similar to your sister?”

“When?” Inkie asks. “Also, there’s more of them? Oh my…”

“When I stepped on a train to Flankfurt.” Hexie sighs and looks at the window. “Well, I’m not sure whether ending up there was a good idea, but at least nopony realised that I had something to do with that wagon full of–” She closes her mouth and gives us a totally innocent glare.

Oh Hexie. I’m pretty sure you’re happy that I didn’t ask you for a criminal background check. I’m happy too – she’s a good mechanic and I’d rather not think about a few rather strange blank spaces in her CV.

At least griffons here have a nice, concrete runway and I can make use of the retractable landing gear for once. We taxi to the hangar, watching out for the griffons landing around us. Did they even hear about the props? They fly close to us and any change of direction may end in one of them becoming a kebab.

Inkie pushes the brakes and we stop by the hangar. Outside, I can see a dozen griffons standing in line, waiting for us. They’re all wearing rather impractical red uniforms with tall, white headdresses with a piece of fabric covering the back of the head. For some reason, they don’t wear battle saddles, just sabres. I guess it’s just some Gentlegriffons at Arms, or whatever.

“I’ll do the talking,” I say. “They don’t seem all that dangerous, but if we accidentally offend them, we may get kicked out of here.”

We walk out of the plane and bow to the griffon awaiting us at the airstrip. Judging by the golden bracelets on his claws, he’s our friend, Mızrak Bey. He also bows and stands in attention. The griffons behind him look at us as if we were a bearded mare with two heads. Probably because Vinyl is wearing her sombrero. She also has a hijab, but she’s wearing it like a shabrack, so it doesn’t stand out that much.

“Good morning,” I say. “We’re not armed. That is, we have a shotgun, but I left it on the plane.”

“We’ll check what you have with you,” Mızrak Bey replies, walking to Inkie and pointing at the spell launcher she has with her. “What is that?”

Well, shit. While it’s not lethal, griffons definitely won’t like it. Time to think quickly.

“This piece of shit?” I ask. “A souvenir from Maretonia. Probably a lighter, but it never worked.”

“How can we be sure it doesn’t shoot?” Mızrak Bey takes the launcher and looks at it. Good thing it works kinda like a single-action revolver – the hammer with a smaller crystal is not cocked, so there’s no risk that he’d accidentally burn his balls.

“Here, let me show you,” I say, levitating the launcher from his claw. “Look, it should light a fire when those two crystal connect.” I cock the hammer and aim the launcher at Vinyl.

“Are you sure it’s safe?” Vinyl asks. “What if I have–”

I pull the trigger. The crystals hit each other, but the spell doesn’t work – mostly because Vinyl doesn’t have balls.

“See?” I ask. “Doesn’t work. But has a great sentimental value for Inkie’s grandmother who lives here.”

“Wha– Oh yeah,” Inkie mutters. “I love my granny, but I was too busy to visit her…”

“Okay then…” The griffon looks at Hexie. “Do I know you?”

“I’ve never seen that stuff hidden in a container of Trottoman sweaters in my life,” Hexie says quickly. “And that wasn’t even me, but my very similar cousin.”

Mızrak Bey furrows his eyebrows. “Oh yeah, I recall now.” He lowers his voice to a whisper. “My very similar cousin got quite a lot of money from her for not asking about those sweaters.”

“And it’s better for it to stay that way, right?” Hexie smiles nervously.

I feel that I should intervene, but suddenly, I see another couple of griffons walking to us. Most of them look like the ones here, but one of them is different. His clothes are overloaded with gold, and I’m pretty sure they’re made of the smoothest silk imaginable. Rarity would kill for the right of putting her hooves on some of it.

“Destur!” the leading griffon shouts. “Sehzade Galip hazretleri!”

Our griffons stand in attention and bow. I shrug and bow too, just in case. You know, when among griffons, do what griffons do. At least my friends follow my example – it would probably offend someone if they didn’t.

The most important griffon lands in front of us and takes a closer look at us. He must be some kind of a noble – his eagle-like face, shining feathers, and richly-ornamented clothes are a dead giveaway.

“Beatrix?” the griffon asks. “What are you doing here?”

Trixie raises her head and looks into the griffon’s eyes. “Galip? Trixie always thought Sehzade was a nickname!”

Galip looks at his griffons and says something. One of them replies quickly, but I can’t even guess a word. Well, if a language doesn’t come from Neightin, I’m pretty much screwed.

“What the fuck is going on?” I whisper to Hexie. She seems like the right pony to explain such things, given that she apparently was here before.

“Sehzade means ‘prince’,” Hexie whispers back. “I can also say ‘food’, ‘beer’, and ‘you have nothing on me, fuckers’, but that’s more or less my whole knowledge on this language.”

Meanwhile, Galip turns back to Trixie. “Beatrix Hatun, would you kindly agree to eat dinner with me in the Trotkapi Palace?”

“Me… Umm... “ Trixie blushes and gives us a panicked look. “Well, Trixie would like to know how was your, umm… life. Like, you promised that you’d write and–”

“I had important things to do, my dear,” Galip replies. “I became the governor of Maneisa and I’m on my way to become the next Sultan. But I always thought about you and now nothing would part us, my springtime, my merry-faced love, my moonlight…”

I feel that I’m gonna vomit. I take a look at Vinyl and it seems that she feels exactly the same.

“Of course, Trixie will go,” Trixie replies. “She is glad to finally reunite.” She turns to us. “The Great and Powerful Trixie is sorry, but as you can see, she just found her love. Don’t worry, you’ll meet her again.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” Vinyl mutters. Trixie doesn’t care about her opinion. She just walks away with the griffon escort.

“Hmm, don’t you think she was cheap?” Inkie asks in the ensuing silence.

“Kinda,” Vinyl replies. “I usually let them buy me a drink first.”

“I proposed first.” Inkie rolls her eyes. “Though I guess I should’ve gotten married first. Mom keeps saying so.”

“I thought your mom had more problems with Coco being a mare.” Vinyl shrugs. “But she also had a problem with me being a bridesmaid.”

“I wonder why,” I mutter. “Also, you wanted to be the master of ceremony and a bridesmaid at the same time.”

Before Vinyl can reply, Mızrak Bey clears his throat. “Excuse me, but apparently the prince has nothing against you being here. Is there something we can do for you?”

Lyra smiles. “Umm… Can you show us the way to the library?”

“Hey, that’s some interesting book.” Hexie grabs a large tome labelled Die Kunst der Körperteile. “Inkie, this may help you with workout…” She takes a closer look. “Wait, that’s a handbook on preserving bodies.” She puts it back on the shelf.

The library is a tall, old building with wonderful arabesque covering the walls – or at least the parts of the walls that aren’t covered by endless shelves full of old books, scrolls, and tomes of eldritch lore. The air is filled with the smell of old paper and dust, and everything is eerily silent. Centuries of knowledge gathered by the pinnacle of Equine civilisation look down upon us and weep.

“Let’s see… Dictionaries…” Lyra mutters. She’s trotting from one side of the shelf to the other, while we sit on couches placed around a large table. “The Great Ponish-Equine Dictionary... Finally I’ll know what Hexie is saying when she forgets herself.”

“These words are not in dictionaries, at least not the prim and proper ones,” Hexie replies.

Lyra puts the dictionary back on the shelf and looks at other books. “Some Pferdisch dictionary… Elder Things’ Language for Dummies... Hello, Sweetie Belle, what are you doing here?”

“Rarity is with Princess Luna on the summit and I have nothing else to do,” Sweetie Belle replies. “Have you seen Apple Bloom and Scootaloo?”

“I’m guessing that bakery on the other side of the street,” Lyra deadpans. “What the hell just happened?” she asks as soon as Sweetie Belle is outside the earshot.

“Kids these days,” I mutter. “They just don’t want to leave you alone.”

Vinyl nods. “Yeah, they’re just like that little piece of shit stuck to your ass that just doesn’t want to go away…”

“That’s a little bit more than we wanted to know,” Inkie says. “Also, is it that book we’re looking for?” She puts a large tome on the table. Golden letters on a leather cover are almost invisible after many years of standing on the shelf, but the title can still be read.

“The Illustrated Dictionary of Ancient Sumareian complete with a signs chart and a foreword by professor Verbal Noun,” Lyra reads. “That’s it.”

“There’s one more thing,” Inkie says, pointing at the end of the shelf. “Look there.”

Hiding behind the shelf, there’s a totally inconspicuous pony. She’s wearing a black trench coat and a hat covering most of her mane. Half of her face is covered by black, thick-rimmed glasses. She’s reading a newspaper, but it doesn’t cover the fact that she’s looking at us through a pair of binoculars.

Oh, and of course, neither the trench coat nor the hat can hide the white fur and pale blonde mane.

“It’s either Aryanne or her butt buddy,” Vinyl mutters. “Kyrie, right?”

“Dunno, she may have wings under that coat,” I whisper. “But it’d be dumb to send Kyrie, she didn’t seem to know Equine.”

“There’s one way to find out.” Hexie stands up. “Let’s go and ask her.”

She walks to our mysterious stalker, waving at her and smiling. “Entschuldigung,” she says. “Frau Aryanne, ja?”

The pony in the coat lowers her newspaper. She’s sweating heavily; perhaps she also went pale, but I can’t tell exactly due to her eerily white fur.

“Aryanne?” she asks, backpedalling. “Ich habe… nicht gehören…”

Hexie smirks and walks closer to the mare, who is trapped between the library wall and about two hundred kilograms of muscles and no sense of personal space that happens to be my mechanic. “Ah ja, Fräulein Kyrie.” She takes a step towards Kyrie. “Ich kann diese grüne Augen nicht vergessen…”

“Scheisse.”

I must say that I underestimated Kyrie. Not only she managed to sum up her situation in one word, but she also turns in one swift motion and throws her coat at Hexie. She then takes off and before I can reach her, she slams into the window at the full speed.

I may have underestimated Kyrie. But she definitely underestimated those windows. Her head left only a small dent in the glass while she dropped on the floor like a white bag of potatoes with wings. Hexie and I run to her, but apparently her skull is harder than it seems – she takes off again and flies staggeringly down the corridor.

We chase her, jumping over carts full of books and ignoring the librarian yelling curses at us. Kyrie dives down the staircase. Hexie chooses a less conventional approach and slides down the railing, which screeches under her weight.

Meanwhile, I have no plan. Think, Minuette! I faintly remember a row of tables downstairs. Kyrie will have to fly over them if she wants to reach the entrance…

I focus on them and teleport there – much to the annoyance of some students occupying the table I landed on. I barely pay attention – spilling their coffee on the notes, I stand to tackle Kyrie, who’s flying at me…

Ugh! Kyrie rams into me like a sledgehammer, knocking me off of the table. I hit the floor with my back, but recover quickly in a cloud of feathers, lost quills, notes, and coffee. Hexie runs past me, so I follow her.

To think about it, Kyrie is insane. I kinda expected her to fly above me—the room is tall enough to allow that—but she just knocked me down unceremoniously. Something tells me that the glasses she lost while running away are in fact prescription lenses rather than a part of her disguise. Why isn’t she wearing them? She’s afraid of getting kicked out of Luftwaffe or what?

My theory seems to be confirmed when I see Kyrie reaching the door. Instead of stopping to open it, she just rams it open with no respect to the contents of her skull. Why is she in such a hurry? It’s not like we can catch up with her, even with my teleportation.

Outside, it turns out that we don’t have to. Instead of giving us a chance for an epic chase across the whole town, she simply flies to the nearest phone booth. She closes the door and holds it, calling someone frantically. Hexie walks to the booth and opens the door without much effort. She then headbutts Kyrie for no apparent reason, though I guess running pissed her off.

I walk inside and pick up the receiver hanging from the wire.

“Kyrie? Was ist los?” I hear a mare’s voice.

“Aryanne?” I ask. “Minuette here. Could you please explain to me why your winged clone with a tendency to hurt herself and a smug wanker in a pimped-out uniform are following us from Haygypt to Trottoman Empire? Not that I mind, but it’s hard to focus when someone’s sitting in your fridge.”

“Umm… It’s a long story,” Aryanne mutters. “Zat is–”

I’m pretty sure the story is interesting. Too bad I can’t hear the end of it. Suddenly, I feel a wave of pain spreading from my between my hind legs. I scream and look down… only to see Kyrie’s hoof approaching me rapidly.

“Boss, you okay?” Hexie asks, looking at me. I slowly realise that I’m lying on the ground and, judging from the pain, Kyrie managed to kick me in the cunt. So. Not. Fair.

“Where’s she?” I get up on my hooves. “Where is she, I need to kill her.”

“Somewhere over there,” Hexie replies, pointing at the silhouette of a pegasus, getting smaller and smaller above the crowd. “Do we still chase her?”

“Of course!” I run, limping slightly.

“That’s just petty,” Hexie mutters, trying to keep up with me.

“Said the pony who headbutted her.” I push myself through the crowd. “Couldn’t you just hold her?”

“I didn’t think this through…”

“Oh, fuck it!” I shout, seeing Kyrie disappearing in some nook. Well, I could technically reach her by teleporting blindly into the nearby building, then teleporting out of it…

Hmm, why not?

Unfortunately for me, the building happens to be a hammam or, more precisely, a public bath. I discover that when I appear in a small swimming pool. I splash into the water inelegantly, scaring away a couple of griffons chilling there. I grab the rant of the pool and climb out of it, spitting water. Damn, where now…

I teleport again, this time landing on some stall in the middle of a bazaar. I look around, but Kyrie is nowhere to be seen. I turn to look at stuff I landed on – mostly junk such as knives, compasses, and magnifying glasses. But there’s one thing there that caught my attention – an old repeating rifle with a scope. It looks like it was made in Hooviet Union, though the wooden parts has been probably sculpted by some local artist, given the distinctive pattern on them.

I levitate it to me and take a look at the bolt. It moves smoothly, but I don’t have time to test it – I just aim it into the sky, watching the surrounding through the scope.

“Hey, you!”

I turn away from the scope to see the fat griffon standing next to me. “That costs three thousand akche,” he says with an exotic accent.

Three thousand? I have some local currency on me, but that’s just a robbery. Three thousand akche means about seven hundred bits.

“I can give you five hundred,” I reply, going back to looking at the sky and searching for a smallest sight of Kyrie.

“A thousand,” the griffon mutters. I guess the initial price was meant to scare away all the dumb schmucks. Or maybe rip one off.

“Six hundred,” I say, without even looking at him.

“Eight. My uncle stole it from an enemy magazine during the war. We only fired it to check if it worked.”

“Seven.”

“Eight hundred and I’m gonna give you a box of ammo.”

“Fine.” The griffon reaches under the table and gives me a metal box. I turn away from the rifle and open it. The ammo seems old, but otherwise fine.

“Green ones are tracers and red ones are… how do you call it? Something with fire,” the griffon says.

“Incendiary,” I reply, taking the box and giving him the money. “Have a nice day.”

“Inshallah.” The griffon bows.

I walk down the street, watching the sky. The street, previously crowded, is now almost empty. I levitate the rifle and put it on my back. The nook is getting kinda narrow, and given the mess of ropes above me, with clothes and pieces of fabric hanging from them, it’d be hard for a pegasus to fly away. This means the only way out is the gate of a nearby building…

I rush there. Indeed, there’s something white in the dirty backyard on the other side of the gate. I levitate the gun out of my back and gallop forward, scaring some chickens away.

“Kyrie?” I yell, waving the rifle around. “Where are you? I just want to talk! Umm… Ich möchte sprechen… unterhalten.”

I run across the backyard and dive behind the corner, aiming the rifle at anything that is there.

Suddenly, I’m deafened by a loud roar of thousands of voices. In front of me, there’s some kind of parade. Lots of soldiers, Duke and Duchess of Maretonia, Princess Luna, the First Secretary of the Earth Ponies’ Party of Hooviet Union, Sultan of the Trottoman Empire…

Oh yeah, the summit. I completely forgot. Seems that they’re going to the Trotkapi Palace to talk about peace process in Zebrica.

I see two griffons in black uniforms, flying above the crowds. One of them pokes the other one and points at me. The other griffon says something quickly and they approach me slowly.

Fuck.

Suddenly, I realise that I’m standing in the open, levitating a sniper rifle, right next to, like, most of the world’s leaders. That doesn’t exactly improve my public relations. I turn back and run back across the backyard. In the middle of it, I see Hexie running to me.

“How did you find me?” I ask.

“Following the path of destruction,” Hexie replies, stopping. She looks at me, at my rifle, and then at the two griffons chasing me. It’s all she needs to understand the gravity of the situation.

“A niech mnie chuj strzeli,” she whispers, her eyes narrowing. She then runs away. Too bad, instead of galloping towards the gate, she chooses the entrance to the building. I run in her wake, up a flight of stairs.

“Hexie, wait!” I shout as we stop on the second floor. “They can fly and there’s no other way out of here!”

“Gonna think of something…” Hexie mutters, looking around. “You can always shoot them.”

“And get ourselves arrested?” I ask. “Have you ever been in a Trottoman prison?”

“Almost,” Hexie replies. “Our friend Mızrak Bey used to be a customs officer and me and my sister had some kind of an oddjob…”

“You’ll tell me about it when we’re in a cozy cell,” I mutter. “You know what can save us now?”

The door of the flat on our left opens. “Come in, you two!”

“Deus ex machina,” I say, rushing to the flat.

As soon as the door closes and my eyes adjust to the dim light in the hall I realise that what jumped out of the machine definitely wasn’t a god or anything like that. In fact, I think that we’re in an even deeper shit than before.

“Hello, sweetie.” Flitter smiles at me. “Can’t spend a day here without causing an international scandal?”

“It’s not what you think it is,” I say, hiding the rifle behind my back.

“I don’t mean you.” Flitter leads us to the living room, where Cloudchaser is sitting behind a large contraption with a screen and a lot of colourful buttons. “Cloudy, show them the last hour.”

I look at the screen and realise that those two top secret cunts apparently put cameras in the whole Trotkapi Palace. The movie I’m looking at was made in a spacious rooms with long couches standing by all the ornamented walls. Trixie is sitting on one of them with Prince Galip. I can’t hear what they’re talking about, but they seem rather close. Holy shit, they are not showing me the porn of them, are they?

“Destur! Feray Sultan hazretleri!” someone outside the room shouts. Trixie and Galip immediately part; the griffon stands up.

A fat, old griffoness storms the room. She’s wearing a red dress, big like a circus tent, as well as the crown on her head.

“Feray, Prince Galip’s mother,” Cloudchaser explains.

“Valida,” Galip says, bowing. His mom ignores him. She points at Trixie and yells something I can’t understand. Galip looks like he’s trying to explain something to her, but all his efforts are for nothing.

“What are you saying to the Great and Powerful Trixie?” Trixie yells. “Listen to Trixie closely, because she’s not gonna repeat herself: Trixie and Galip are in love and they’re gonna get married whether you want it or not, you old feather duster!”

Feray shouts only one word. I don’t know what it means, but the tone like that is only used when someone yells “guards!” or something like that.

A couple more griffons rush into the room. Trixie grabs a smoke bomb and throws it at the floor. In the ensuing chaos, she punches Feray and disappears. Or rather, I can still more or less see her – it’s just hard for me to focus my gaze on her.

“Von Unsichtbar’s spell,” I mutter. “Where’s she now?”

“As I said to my sister, ‘fuck me if I know’,” Cloudchaser replies. “Well, she did anyway even though I still have no idea, but that’s not the point. Such a scandal during the summit… We managed to cover up the most of it, but it’ll be hard if you keep parading around the town with this.” She points at the rifle. “Where did you even get that?”

“On a bazaar, for roughly a hundred and ninety bits,” I say. “I just needed a scope, but the guy offered me a box of ammo.”

Someone knocks on the door.

“Hide in the bathroom,” Flitter mutters to me and Hexie. “It’s probably your friends.”

We run to the bathroom and lock the door. It’s right next to the flat entrance, so I can hear Flitter and the griffons quite well.

“Agent Hawk and Agent Yavuz.”

“Arrrr you police?” Flitter asks in a fake Prench accent. “Some barbarians terrorised moi wiff a gun! Zey charged into ze house and boom! Zey teleported avay.”

“Do you know where they could teleport?” Agent Hawk (or maybe Yavuz?) asks.

“I ‘ave no idea, officer. Zey said somesing about ze parade…”

“Boktan durum…” the griffon mutters. “Thank you for help.”

I hear the sound of the door closing and sigh with relief. Hexie wipes sweat from her forehead.

“Prekrasna vintovka,” someone behind me says.

Trying not to scream or have a heart attack, I spin quickly. Under the shower, there are two pegasus mares smiling at us. One of them is white, while the other has darker spots just like that Bridleish colt Ruby once fell in love with. Both are wearing greenish uniforms and have so many medals that they’d probably stop a bullet.

“Kurwa, Ruskie,” Hexie mutters, utterly dumbfounded.

Before we can interact more, Flitter knocks at the door. “You can leave!”

I unlock the door and open it.

“Shit,” Flitter mutters, seeing us with two pegasi. “Cloudchaser! I told you to hide those two in the closet!”

“I thought you said ‘bathroom’!” Cloudchaser yells. “That was the plan! Hide our friends in the bathroom and those two retards in the closet!”

Flitter groans and rolls her eyes. “Nevermind. I can still fix this…”

“Fix what?” I ask. “Two Hooviet spies in the shower? What were you doing there? Selling Equestria’s secrets? Or just kinky sex over the Iron Curtain?”

“Hey, why so angry?” the spotted mare asks with a heavy accent. “My name’s Strelka and my droog here is Belka. We’re secret agents.” She winks. “Don’t tell anyone.”

“Seks? Mozhet byt’.” Belka shrugs and pats Hexie’s ass. “Ty shlyukha?”

“Tell her I’m not a whore, or I’m gonna smear her on the wall,” Hexie mutters. “Also, can someone explain me what’s going on?”

Flitter sighs. “Okay, so this is totally top secret and if you tell anyone, I’ll have to murder you and make it look like an accident, which takes a fuckton of paperwork, so don’t say a word. You know about the summit, right? It’s all bullshit. Words, words, words. They’re gonna talk and do shit.”

“Well, it’s not that top secret,” I say. “That’s how things always go.”

“We are currently unofficially negotiating with the Hooviet intelligence,” Flitter says. “We no longer support Northern Zebrican government, they stop arming the South and support gorilla warfare…”

“Guerilla warfare,” I say automatically.

“Unfortunately not,” Flitter replies. “Anyway, we came to a conclusion that both sides of the conflict are retarded…”

“It took you six years to realise that?” I ask. “Oh my, the intelligence is getting smarter every day.”

“Take that sarcasm and shove it up your arse,” Flitter mutters.

“V zhopu?” Belka asks, showing that her knowledge of Equine is rather selective. “Ya lyublyu v zhopu!”

Flitter sighs. “Anyway, we already have a zebra candidate who, with our joint support, will defeat both North and South and unite Zebrica. And then, we’ll share the mining contracts. How does it sound?”

“Shady,” Hexie mutters. “And it will never work.”

Strelka chuckles. “Same was said about our great leader. Well, there are difficulties – we’ve seen another spy in Istabmule, one who already screwed up some of our enterprises. She has a pale white coat and blonde mane and her cutie mark is–”

“–a cross with hearts,” I say. “We were chasing her when you found us. Her name is Kyrie and she works for a similar earth mare called Aryanne. There’s also some uniformed wanker called Kloppenfuhrer or something.”

Strelka looks at Belka and Flitter. “Interesting… You seem to know much about them…”

“They’re getting in my way,” I reply. “So… May I go away and mind my own business?”

“We’re not done,” Flitter mutters through gritted teeth. “Do you think I like making shady deals like that? After you blew up that air base, we’re getting all the crappiest jobs. No, I don’t mean sex, dammit!” The last words are directed at Belka, who opened her mouth to say something.

Cloudchaser walks to us. “I think I’ve heard your sweet voice, sister,” she says. “Well, Minuette, you’re free to go for now. It’s not like the firm didn’t find a better agent to follow you…”

“Cloudchaser!” Flitter groans. “There are no agents following you,” she says to us.

“What if they’re so good we don’t see them?” Hexie asks. I swear, if I ever get paranoid, it’ll be because of her.

“Get the fuck out,” Flitter whispers.

“I can’t get the fuck out like that,” I reply, pointing at the rifle on my back.

Strelka raises her hoof. “I’ll give you my balalaika case,” she says. “You’ll give it to me when we meet next time.”

“It’s a normal case, right?” I ask. “It doesn’t have hidden spy stuff?”

“Well, the balalaika has a laser, a hidden blade and–” Strelka looks at Flitter and Cloudchaser and shuts up. “The case is normal.”

“Thanks, then,” I reply. “And of course, this meeting never happened.”

“Where have you been?” Vinyl asks when we finally get back to the library. “Holy shit, is that a balalaika?”

“Yes, but it only plays one melody,” I reply. “A funeral march.”

“So, when you two were sightseeing, we spend a fascinating afternoon deciphering the text on that silver plate,” Lyra says, rolling her eyes. “It was a truly educational event.”

“And it’s some damn riddle again.” Inkie immediately covers her mouth.

“Yeah, ‘oh fuck, I said ‘damn’’,” Vinyl mutters. “We know that joke.”

“But we still don’t know the answer to the riddle.” Lyra levitates her notes to me. Among scribbled hearts, various doodles, and single words, there’s a short poem:

Find a fork in the middle of the desert,
Go ten steps towards the sun.
Put your shovel in the brown dirt,
When you find her, better run.

“Okay,” I say. “For starters, it was written by some ancient moron in an even more ancient language. How the hell the translation still rhymes?”

“It took me a while to make it rhyme,” Lyra replies. “Riddles that don’t rhyme don’t count.”

“Okay then. How are we supposed to find an old fork in the desert, why do we have to dig through shit, and who is ‘she’?” I ask.

“It’s a riddle.” Lyra shrugs. “We’ll figure something out when we get back to Haygypt. And probably we’ll have a chance to talk to ‘her;.”

Inkie sighs and lowers her head. “Exactly what I was afraid of…”

Author's Note

Notes on the chapter:

Drop A. Stone is a pun on its own, but it's also an allusion to some ancient manhole covers aliens dumped on us.

I wondered what to do with Turkish-like griffon names but it turns out, Turkish names are like pony names by default: most of them mean something. Also, canon griffon names are usually human anyway (Gilda, Gustave, etc). Thus names such as Mızrak (spear; actually a play on a Polish phrase "blunt spear", meaning someone dumb), Galip (victor), and Feray (moon shine. Not sure about the Turkish connotations – do they even have moonshine there?). Some names also have Ottoman-era honorifics added where appropriate (Bey - sir, Hatun - lady).

Destur! Shehzade Galip hazretleri! – "Open up! Prince Galip is coming!". Borrowed from a certain series which is my guilty pleasure (the occurence of this phrase is a good material for a drinking game).

Die Kunst der Körperteile – "The Art of Body Parts". Definitely a very educational book.

Hexie and Kyrie conversation:
"Excuse me. Mrs. Aryanne, right?"
"Aryanne? I've never heard..."
"Oh yeah, Miss Kyrie. I can't forget those green eyes..."
"Bloody hell."

Inshallah – "hopefully", or more literally, "if Allah wills". Given that there's hardly any religion in this universe, make of that what you will.

Ich möchte sprechen… unterhalten. – "I want to speak... talk". At first I confused the German words and corrected myself, but then I also had Minuette correct herself in-universe. She's not any good in foreign languages.

A niech mnie chuj strzeli – a somewhat popular Polish phrase meaning "may a dick shoot me". Yes, we're that creative. And yes, there's at least one (NSFW) picture depicting a literal version.

Hawk and Yavuz were named after those two guys from the aforementioned series.

Boktan durum – "woe is me, the suspect ran away" (not really)

Prekrasna vintovka – nice rifle.

Kurwa, Ruskie – the only proper reaction to being surprised by two Russians hiding in the shower.

Of course, Belka and Strelka are named after first two dogs who went into space and returned to umm... bark a tale?

Seks? Mozhet byt’. Ty shlyukha? – Sex? Might be. Are you a whore?

V zhopu? Ya lyublyu v zhopu! – In the ass? I love in the ass! (her Equine comprehension is very selective, but her enthusiasm breaks all the barriers).

But pray tell, why are we sitting in this shithole? Shouldn’t we party, watching the world die or something?

But pray tell, why are we sitting in this shithole? Shouldn’t we party, watching the world die or something?

Dammit all to hell.

We managed to successfully decipher the ancient message, but we’re still as far from finding the place it mentions as we were before. We have secret agents and even more secret conspiracies on our heads. And, the worst of it all, we spent two days searching the whole town and we still can’t find Trixie.

“I’m calling it now,” Vinyl mutters, emerging from the sewer by the bay. “She’s pushing daisies. The griffons got her and added her to kebab.”

“No way,” I say. “She was unnoticeable when she ran away. It’s normal that we can’t see her.”

“Great.” Vinyl rolls her eyes. “I’ll now walk across the entire town looking for places where there’s no Trixie.”

Hexie smirks. “Get a shower first. Also, isn’t that, like, most of places?”

“Yes,” Vinyl replies. “But there’s definitely a place where the absence of Trixie is even bigger than in other places, which is where Trixie actually is, because that’s how this spell works.”

“Err… what?” Inkie scratches her head. “How is that supposed to work?”

“Trixie is potentially everywhere and nowhere at the same time, and since she might be under the spell that makes her unnoticeable, the place where she actually is is also the place where she’s not, even more than the other places where she’s not,” Vinyl replies. “That’s the short version.”

“Yes.” Inkie sighs. “So she isn’t here, but she might be here, because there’s no way to tell if she isn’t here more than she isn’t there?”

“If you are skilled enough, you can tell where she isn’t more than here.” Vinyl looks at the place Inkie is pointing at. “No, not here. She just normally isn’t here.”

“How about the strait?” I ask. “Isn’t she there more than here?”

“I’d have to take a look,” Vinyl replies.

“We can get you diving equipment.” I smirk, looking at the nearby store. “Then you’ll be able to ponder about being, nothing, and shitting.”

Lyra walks to us, carrying saddlebags full of stuff that supposedly helps discovering the hidden objects she bought from the local ghost chasers. “This doesn’t work,” she says. “Also, I got a message from Daring Do. We need to go back to Haygypt.”

“What about Trixie?” I ask.

“I’m pretty sure she’ll survive without us,” Lyra mutters.

Oh, please. I grab Lyra and lift her slightly. “She’s a moron who pissed off the half of the royal family shortly after arriving here. She’s totally irresponsible and she won’t survive a week here without us.”

“Hey, no violence please.” Inkie pushes me away from Lyra. “Remember that Trixie managed to somehow, umm… screw the entire Maneaus over. And she didn’t run with a gun to an international summit. I think.”

“Yeah,” Vinyl mutters. “And remember what she did to Ponyville? She’s not as dumb as she looks like. Though not as clever as me.”

“I’m pretty sure we’ll hear about her again,” Hexie says. “Sooner than you think, boss.”

“Okay…” I lower my head. “But if she tries to kill us for leaving her here, you’ll be first in line.”

“We’ll take the risk.” Vinyl chuckles and walks to the plane.

Soon after reaching the seashore, we relax and forget about the adventures in Istabmule. The weather is fine, the ships below us are clearly visible, and soon we’ll get back to Haygypt.

“So, what exactly did Flitter and Cloudchaser tell you?” Lyra asks. She’s sitting in the cockpit and eating some vegemite she found in the back of the plane. I have no idea how it got there, but there’s probably some story beneath it.

“Something about a better agent taking our case from them,” I reply. “And that she’s so good that we can’t even notice where she is.”

“So maybe we should look in all the places where that agent is not present?” Inkie asks, checking the lights on the control board. “You know, to find a place where she’s not present more than in other places.”

“As if it worked with Trixie.” Hexie smirks. “Who knows, maybe that agent is with Trixie in a hotel room, screwing her senseless.”

“I don’t think so,” Lyra mutters, furrowing her eyebrows. “Hmm, do you think I can contact Equestria from here? I need to make a call home.”

“Equestria is out of our reach,” I reply. “You can call home from Haygypt.”

“Did you suddenly feel homesick?” Inkie asks.

“No, I just have an idea I need to check.”

“You’ll check it when we’re on the ground,” I say, looking at the sky in front of us. Suddenly, I notice a barrage of clouds coming from our left. A thick wall of grey, starting at about fifty metres above the surface of water and ending… hell, way higher than we are. Not sure if we can fly above them and I don’t want to try, given lack of proper testing.

“Can you see that?” Inkie asks. “It doesn’t look natural.”

“I’m afraid it’s coming towards us,” I say. “Maybe we should land on the sea and wait till it–” A look down makes me shut up. With waves that big, there’s no way we’re landing. I don’t feel like being thrown around the sea till we puke our guts out.

“Strap your seatbelts,” Hexie says. “I have bad feelings about this.”

“Can we run away back to the Trottoman Empire?” Inkie asks. “I think that’d be a better idea.”

Well, why not? I look into the rear mirror. To my surprise I see that the clear sky behind us is now also covered by clouds. It’s like they’re surrounding us.

Or are they?

“Where’s the nearest weather factory?” I ask. “These clouds… They don’t look natural.”

“Hmm, in Saddle Arabia?” Lyra shrugs. “We pissed off a lot of ponies, but none of them live there.”

“We’re almost above the desert. The clouds didn’t gather here by themselves.” I want to add something, but I’m interrupted by the roar of a thunder. “Lyra, get out,” I say. “We’ll handle the plane without your help.”

Easier said than done. Lyra barely walks out of the cockpit when the wind hits us, almost causing us to do a barrel roll. I grab the yoke harder, trying to get us back ontrack. Inkie helps me, but it’s all for nothing: we’re being thrown around like a kite.

Rain pounds against the windscreen and the lightning almost blinds us. Hexie is yelling curses at the storm. In at least four languages, including Trottoman. I can also hear someone throwing up. I’m pretty sure it’s Vinyl.

Strong tailwind carries us over the desert. It actually makes us much faster, at least in terms of speed relative to the ground. It also pushes us down; I almost have a heart attack, seeing the ground getting closer.

We cut off the top of some dune before I manage to pull up. One of the windows breaks, cold air flooding the inside of the plane immediately. Good thing the props are way above the fuselage, or we’d break them too. Lightning hits near us, causing Inkie to scream and almost lose control over the plane.

“Don’t worry!” Hexie laughs and takes a sip from a bottle she hides hell only knows where. “We’re much too smart to die here!”

“What does being smart have to do with that?” Inkie asks, her eyes wide as she’s looking into the clouds covering us like a big, angry murderous fabric.

“My dad used to say that a smartass like me will get hanged one day!” Hexie chuckles. “I can’t see any folks with a rope here!”

“That’s… very comforting.” Inkie leans forward and throws up on the control board. I’m gonna make her clean that. Unless we crash, then cleaning will be the least of our problems.

At least the wind silences a bit. Despite rain pouring on us, I can fly a bit higher now. The plane isn’t damaged and it seems that everyone is fine.

“You think you have a problem?!” Vinyl yells in the back of the plane. “I almost shit myself! I made it to the toilet, but it’s difficult when you’re upside down!”

“Remind me not to use the toilet,” I mutter. Hours of fighting with the yoke left me sweaty and exhausted and I’m pretty sure soon it’ll be even worse – the sun starts to pierce the clouds, warming the plane immediately.

“I want to know what Lyra’s problem is, though,” Inkie whispers, looking back. “I’d rather not step into… something.”

The weather clears a bit, but we still have one problem: we’re above seemingly endless desert, and the storm was throwing us around for quite a while. Thus, I have no idea where we are.

I turn on the radio, but all I can hear is static. I guess the storm is blocking out all the signals… or we are that far from civilisation. Inkie turns the knob for a while, but all we catch is some upbeat tune, consisting of trumpets and drums.

“Is that an army march?” Hexie asks, grabbing a hoofful of maps. “We’d better find a way out of here.”

“Good idea.” I look at the ground. “I think we’re a bit too far west from Haygypt.”

“Definitely,” Inkie replies. “I guess if we turn back and go right…”

“Stop right here.” The voice coming from the radio is harsh and unpleasant. I look at it unsurely and grab the microphone.

“Who the hell are you?” I ask. “Also, we can’t stop or we’d fall.”

“The Air Force of Northern Zebrican Empire,” the voice replies.

Air Force? Did those wankers actually grow wings? Back when Equestria was seriously supporting the emperor of Northern Zebrica in his efforts to unite the country, there was always a squadron of pegasi stationed there. For some reason, the emperor always wanted them to be stallions. It had something to do with religion and no one in the army ever questioned that.

Shit hit the fan when some of the pegasi came back to Equestria with a nasty case of syphilis. As it turned out, most of them volunteered to take part in the emperor’s “scientific” program the purpose of which was to breed a flying zebra by screwing as many mares as possible and hoping for the best.

The program resulted in a sudden rise in the number of sterile hybrids called zebroids or zonies: sterile, half-striped, half-magical, full-time jackasses. To my knowledge, none of them had wings. Also, a few squadron leaders retired early, and some other ones were reassigned by Celestia herself to such pleasant places as the air base in Stalliongrad, the border with Yakyakistan, or Bug Bear Territory.

Of course, everything of that is classified and will remain as such for the next fifty years. I know that only because during my army days I asked an older pegasus why they called him Stripefucker.

Meanwhile, the air force shows up and I must say that I’m sorely disappointed. It consists of thin griffons wearing mismatched equipment and a few pegasi in uniforms covering them almost completely – the only thing that can be seen are pale blonde manes mostly hidden under their helmets. We could technically outrun all of them, but I’m afraid we’d be shot down first.

“Don’t try anything funny,” the voice says. “Follow us and land where we tell you. Understood?”

“Understood.” I turn away from the radio. “Tell Vinyl to load her shotgun and my rifle. Get ready to fry some balls too,” I whisper. “I don’t like it.”

“Me neither,” Inkie replies, stretching her hooves. “But maybe we should be nice?”

“Oh, I’ll be nice.” Hexie reaches under her seat and produces a lead pipe. “Like, broken bones instead of fatal wounds kinda nice. That is, unless it turns out they’re polite.”

The desert below us changes into brownish savanna. Soon, we reach a large, rather shallow lake surrounded by palm trees. The neighbourhood isn’t exactly wild: at the eastern shore of the lake there’s a large building made of wood and rusty sheet metal, with tall chimneys that look like they’d collapse upon being kicked.

“What’s that?” Inkie asks. “Some kind of a factory?”

“A weather factory.” Hexie points at the pipe in the wall. Rainbow concentrate leaks from it in large drops, leaving a charred spot on the ground below. “Perfect if you need to make a large storm on a budget.”

I wonder how poisonous it is. I mean, rainbow concentrate isn’t toxic; it’s even technically edible, though upon burning it changes into a corrosive vapour. However, the whole place looks like any workplace safety inspector’s wet dream, full of fines, paperwork, and decisions about closing the place down.

And that’s not even the whole thing. Right behind the factory, there’s an airship base. Two large fuel storage tanks, tall cylindrical objects that look like something out of this world tower over an airstrip with a hangar and five battered airships standing next to it. They look like they were decommissioned a long time ago and hastily repaired in exactly the same way, despite each of them coming from a different producer. There’s also a pipeline, apparently used to transport water from the lake to the hydrogen generator next to the hangar.

“Land in the lake,” the voice commands. “I know you can do that.”

I fly lower, taking a closer look at the installation on the bank. Some zebras walk around it, all of them armed. It’s surrounded by machine gun nests, made of bags full of sand and surrounded by barbed wire. Something tells me that those guys didn’t invite us for a picnic.

We land on the calm surface of the lake and stop by the shore. I stand up and walk to the back of the plane and take my rifle from Vinyl. To my surprise, I notice a large bayonet attached to the barrel. It looks like something one could castrate a herd of lions with.

“Where did you find it?” I ask.

“The ammo box has a double bottom,” Vinyl replies. “I found it when I was loading it.” She throws me a few stripper clips with additional rounds. I take them, though I think I’ll probably use the rifle as a rather sophisticated club. I’m too soft to kill someone, even if they are a zebra…

Wait, that came out wrong. I don’t usually shoot at others, be it ponies, zebras, griffons, or whatever. I didn’t even shoot that rifle yet. There was no occasion to do that.

To think about it, this merchant probably didn’t know about the bayonet, or else I’d have to pay extra for it.

We stand silently by the door, waiting for our fate. Soon it comes on board of a big, luxurious hovercraft…

Well, it looks more like someone tried to construct a big luxurious hovercraft out of everything that was left after building the weather factory we saw earlier. It is quite noisy, with two large props powered by airship engines. At least three or four similar engines are used as air pumps. The sheet metal used for its hull is probably put together from various scrapped vehicles, judging by the differences in colour, thickness, and the amount of rust covering it.

“Get out of the plane and get on the deck!” someone orders through a megaphone. Having no other ideas, we obey. As soon as we get on the hovercraft, we’re surrounded by about forty armed zebras wearing green uniforms.

“We’re screwed,” Lyra mutters. “I’ve never thought this would happen.”

“Lyra, shut up,” I say. “Unless you have a plan of getting us out.”

“What?” Lyra shrugs. “It’s a new experience to me.”

“I’m more interested in those engines.” Hexie looks at the massive pylons, each of them ending with a turboprop engine. “They look like what Cherry put in Aryanne’s airship when she repaired it.”

Oh yeah. The second source of my money. After I crash landed Aryanne’s airship in the lake near Ponyville, Cherry Berry repaired it for half a price. Well, she also made some innovations that made it probably the fastest and deadliest (for both the crew and anyone stupid enough to attack it) airship on the planet.

“Do you think those are the same engines?” I ask.

“No, those are much more crude,” Hexie replies. “The casings of Cherry’s engines were die forged. Those have the same shape, but they’re stamped to reduce cost. They also added two more holes in them to enhance cooling, just as we did, but they did that independently, since theirs have a different shape and–”

“Spare me technical details.” I turn to the zebras. “Hello, guys. We’re flattered by this welcome, but we’d rather know what’s going on.”

“Oh, soon you will.”

I look up to see a pony standing on the roof of the superstructure in the front of the hovercraft. She’s wearing a uniform and she tied her mane into a ponytail, but it’s not hard to recognise her.

“Aryanne,” I say. “Long time no see. You know you’re the last pony I’d expect to team up with zebras?”

“I learned from you,” Aryanne replies. “I jumped at ze opportunity as soon as it appeared.”

Well, shit. Our airship inflated her ego, or what?

Two more ponies walk to Aryanne. Or rather, one pony—our good friend Kloppenfuhrer—because the other guy is the most peculiar zebra I have ever seen.

He’s wearing a uniform similar to the ones soldiers are wearing, but that’s where similarities end. He’s also wearing a red coat, enough gold to buy a small country, and a crown so tall that soon it’ll collapse under its own weight. I notice Kloppenfuhrer smirking behind his back.

“Let me introduce…” Aryanne throws her head back. “Mshindwi ze Dreaded, ze Emperor of Zebrica, almighty, superior, omnipotent and omnipresent ruler of ze empire zat, vis our humble help vill take over ze vorld!”

“That’s me.” Mshindwi the Dreaded smiles.

“The world is not enough,” I say, trying very hard not to laugh at this unusual trio.

Aryanne doesn’t notice that. “But zere’s such a perfect place to start… Vhen have you last heard of Manegascar?”

“Been a while,” Lyra replies. “I’ve heard they closed the borders because their president was a germophobe and heard that somepony in Hayland coughed.”

“Yeah, zat.” Aryanne nods. “Ein ungewöhnlich Pferdchen. Anyvay, he vas afraid of germs, but never seen Germaney coming. Once ve had a base zere, ve moved here to help our dear ally.”

“That’s me,” Mshindwi the Dreaded says. “Soon, with the help of our friends, we will end the rebellion! Then, with the help of those blonde idiots, I will take over the whole world! That is, right after I learn the secrets of that flying vehicle you have here…” He lowers his head to look at me. “Will you share it with me, or do I have to torture you? Not that I mind…”

I gulp, thinking of the answer. Luckily, Vinyl comes up with one before me.

“Dude, go fuck yourself with a telegraph pole. Your torture is probably my fetish, unless you’ll just stand and talk. Then I’ll tell you all my secrets. There’s a lot of that, you know, starting with the day I first met Minuette and she–”

“Enough!” Mshindwi the Dreaded yells. “By a royal decree, you shall be thrown into the pit with lions that haven’t eaten anything for two years.”

“So, they’re dead?” Vinyl asks.

Mshindwi groans, staring into the sky. “Seize them!” he exclaims. “I need them alive!”

Well, now we’re screwed. I hit the nearest zebra with a spell. He collapses, clutching his balls. I hear another magical discharge and see Inkie with her crystal gun. She aims it at the next soldier and fires, the spell hitting them as hard as if I cast it.

More zebras jump at us. I smack one of them with the butt of my rifle. His companion tries to grab me and ends up with a nice bayonet scar across the face. Next to me, Hexie is already surrounded by fallen enemies. She rolls on the deck, avoiding soldiers, only to suddenly stand up and smack them in the gut.

“Help!” Lyra cries, staring at the spells flying past her. Vinyl runs to her and knocks her out.

“What?” Vinyl asks, noticing my stare. “I didn’t want her to do something stupid.”

Before I can reply, two zebras tackle Vinyl. One of them quickly runs away holding his bitten hoof. They other punches her, but then I fire a spell at his nuts.

“Are you okay, Vinyl?” I ask.

“So many stars around…” Vinyl mutters. “Am I a captain yet?”

“Oh, come on…” I roll my eyes. A zebra flies by me, followed by Inkie, who apparently reached her limits of being nice. Well, unless kicking someone into the boards of the deck counts as nice these days.

I look around, trying to assess the situation. A lot of zebras are unconscious, but so is Vinyl and Lyra. Inkie is still fighting, but the sheer number of soldiers attacking her makes it difficult for her to fight. And what’s worse, two zebras managed to catch Hexie in a net, limiting her to throwing curses and spitting at them.

“Well, damn.” I aim my horn at the group attacking Inkie. A powerful explosion throws them around, cleaning the field a bit.

I feel a sudden head rush and nearly collapse on the deck. Just great. My magic always liked to reach its limits in the most inconvenient times. What’s worse, the zebras turn away from Inkie and charge at me.

“Something tells me this is your bad day…” I mutter, raising the rifle with my hooves. I might be soft, but they’re pissing me off.

I choose the target carefully. Instead of soldiers, I aim at the top of the superstructure, more exactly at Aryanne’s right hoof. I don’t want to kill her, but I want to leave a mark before I’m caught. Like, one day she’ll look at the stump and think warmly of me.

The recoil makes me sit down. What’s worse, either I have a really crappy aim, or the scope isn’t set properly. The bullet goes far to the right and up. Instead of Aryanne’s hoof, it ends up right under Mshindwi’s crown.

The effect is stunning. The guy is now truly omnipresent… Well, he’s mostly on Aryanne, but you get the idea. Upon seeing that, I throw up on the nearest zebra and punch him while he’s distracted.

It’s my chance. Aryanne is motionless, struck by the fact that various parts of the zebra that are normally inside are now on her coat. The soldiers also stand in one place, staring at me. I run for it, pushing them away and trying to reach the plane. How to save the rest? Fuck me if I know, but I’ll think of something.

Suddenly, I’m stopped so violently that I almost spit out my lungs. The rifle falls out of my hooves, but is immediately lifted by someone’s magic.

I try to run, but I’m still held by a spell. All I can do is looking at Kloppenfuhrer who walks to me and raises my rifle, while still keeping me frozen in place.

“Nice thing,” he mutters, pulling the bolt backwards to eject the spent case.

“Are you gonna shoot me?” I ask.

“For offing that idiot?” Kloppenfuhrer clicks his tongue. “Why would I do that, Ms. Turner? You may prove useful one day.” He lifts the gun, butt first. “We’ll finish this conversation later. For now, Aryanne sends her regards.”

Ouch.

Judging by the splitting headache, this wanker must’ve hit me with my own rifle. I hope he gets an anal rash and passes it to Aryanne when he’ll be blowing her. Where am I? I can hear the sound of engines roaring, but I’m definitely in some small room smelling of dust and old drugs.

“Minuette? Are you okay?”

Okay, that explains old drugs. Vinyl is here with me. I take a look at her and notice that she’s chained, with a magic-blocking ring on her horn. It seems to me that I also ended up that way.

“Where are we?” I ask.

“In that hovering thingy,” Vinyl replies. “They’re driving us south, I think.”

“How do you know?”

“One of the guards was complaining about gorillas and shitty food in the south,” Vinyl replies. “The zebras mostly speak in gibberish, but there are also griffons and those pale clones here.”

“So, the southern part of the northern part, right?” I mutter. “Why do they drive us there? And how about the rest?”

“I don’t know,” Vinyl replies. “So, how are we gonna escape?”

“I have no idea,” I say. “We’re on a fast hovercraft, surrounded by zebras. Oh, and I killed the emperor, I think.”

“We can disguise as a camel.” Vinyl smirks. “I’ll be the head and you’ll be yourself.”

“What?” I raise my eyebrows. “Why would we disguise as a camel? We’d still be imprisoned here.”

Vinyl nods. “Yes, but we’d be a camel.”

I sigh, trying not to imagine that. “How would we explain to the guards that we’re here?”

“You know, something like, ‘I was walking there, minding my own business, when those two psychos busted out of the cell and locked me in it’ kind of thing.” Vinyl shrugs. “At least they’d let us out.”

“How would a camel get there in the first place?” I ask. “It’s just zebras here. They’d get suspicious that the camel was in the middle of their hovercraft minding its business.”

A uniformed camel walks to us and bangs at the metal door. “Would you kindly shut up?” he asks. “We’re almost there!”

Vinyl smiles at me and looks expectantly at the door.

“No,” I mutter. “We’re still not disguising as a camel. For starters, we’d need two blankets, a cushion, and two pairs of Trottoman slippers to disguise as a camel. Also, we’re almost there, so it’s no use running away now. I’m pretty sure the place they’ll put us in will be easier to run away from.”

The engines go silent and the hovercraft lowers slightly. At least ten zebras walk to our cell and lead us outside.

“Easier to run away from?” Vinyl asks.

I can feel a certain smell in the air, telling me that we’re close to the jungle, but I can’t actually see it. It’s mostly because the hovercraft is parked in the yard of a big castle from the middle-Celestial era. Thick walls made of limestone resisted all the sieges through centuries, so it’s unlikely we’re getting out soon. Massive towers and bastions obscure the sky.

We’re led to the keep and placed in a quite uncomfortable dungeon, guarded by at least a hundred of zebras. Seems that after the previous fight with us, they started to take us seriously.

“So, what are we gonna do now?” Vinyl asks after we’re left in the cell.

“Don’t worry,” I mutter. “I know that castle. Ages ago, during the crusade against griffons, my ancestor Minuet ‘Jackass’ Turner found a secret entrance to it.”

“And what happened to him?” Vinyl asks.

“They caught him and impaled his head on a pike,” I reply. “And the entrance was never found, mostly because the government of Zebrica had more important things to do than letting archeologists do their job.”

“Shit.”

“Indeed.” Kloppenfuhrer walks to us, standing in a safe distance from the grating. “There’s no way out, although we can think of some kind of gratification if you cooperate.”

“I’ve seen a porn movie which started that way,” Vinyl mutters. “I’m waiting for gags and whips.”

“Very funny.” Kloppenfuhrer mutters. “The thing is–”

I roll my eyes. “Okay, here’s the deal: we’ll help you teach Aryanne to pronounce her th’s correctly and you’ll let us out. How does that look to you?”

“Her accent is the least of my problems,” he replies. “Her mouth has other uses, you know.”

“Aha!” Vinyl stands up. “I knew you two were fucking! Hell, I bet she turned you into her bitch. I know those, trust me. That’s why your rank sounds like something outta weak porn. Yeah, but do tell me why instead of going further than softcore shit Aryanne used to do, you turned into taking over countries?”

“Shut up!” Kloppenfuhrer bangs his hoof against the grating. Vinyl knows how to piss people off. “You don’t know what happened to her. She needs… attention. Modelling was a one way she could achieve it, but those damn instructions in our heads… She just flipped and I didn’t see anything wrong with that. So, we came up with a plan and you’re an important part of it.”

“Yeah, cry me a river,” Vinyl mutters. “Yours is too little for her, so she decided to fuck the whole world over. That sometimes happens with mares. But pray tell, why are we sitting in this shithole? Shouldn’t we party, watching the world die or something?”

“Yeah, that,” I say. “Also, tell us what’s your actual name. As my dear friend pointed out, ‘Kloppenfuhrer’ is one pair of pornstache away from becoming a thing in this business.”

Kloppenfuhrer’s face is bright red. “My name’s Pulli.”

I look at Vinyl and we both burst into laughter.

“It’s an old Griffonian name, dammit!” Pulli yells.

“Don’t shit fire, Pulli,” I say, still chuckling. “Just tell us your offer.”

“We can’t simply take over the world with those zebras,” Pulli replies, slowly regaining his composure. “The late emperor wanted your plane to build an air force, but that’s just a fairy tale for those stripped morons. However, there’s a certain artifact you’re looking for that would help us greatly. I need to know everything about it.”

Vinyl looks at me unsurely.

“Well, we have a problem,” I say, deciding that honesty is the best option. “We don’t know shit about it. Daring Do doesn’t really talk about it.”

“Really?” Pulli looks at the ceiling. “Daring Do wants you to find a crystal that will awake the ancient beasts and let the owner control them and you know nothing about it?”

“Well, now we know a bit more,” Vinyl says. “What ancient beasts? Are they succubi?”

“No. They’re the wicked things that existed before the world itself.” Pulli stares at the wall, probably imagining some otherworldly acts of unspeakable cruelty. “That would help us defeat all the countries and establish the new order!”

“Yeah, sure, mate.” I sigh. “I’m pretty sure that’s not a good idea. And you’re saying Daring is looking for it? How about Ahuizotl?”

“The ponies he hired are morons,” Pulli replies. “Though this may be a good backup. And I’m pretty sure you’re hiding something from me.”

I think of Lyra and the hint we managed to translate. Where are they now? I hope those guys didn’t drown them in the lake.

“How about our friends?” I ask. “They may know something.”

“Oh, don’t worry, we’ll get to them,” Pulli says. “If they know something, I’m sure you know something too.”

“There are… hints,” I reply. “But each of us knows only a part of it. You know, for safety.”

“What are your parts?” Pulli asks.

“Go around the centre of the earth,” Vinyl replies. “That was mine.”

“Stop by the hot dog stand and look up,” I say. “Those parts are not in order.”

Pulli gives us a flat look. “You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?”

Vinyl and I look at each other. “He’s smart. He figured it out all by himself,” I say.

“I guess Aryanne’s the pretty one, he’s the smart one, and Kyrie is the strong one.” Vinyl shrugs. “You’d better teach Kyrie not to bust doors with her head, or else your trio may become a duo soon.”

“Schiess doch, sie Schweinehunde!” Pulli rubs his temples. “Fine! You vill sit here till you vant to talk!” He rushes out of the dungeon.

“It seems he lost his shit,” Vinyl says as soon as he leaves. “You shouldn’t have told him about the hot dog stand.”

“Yeah, he even lost his accent.” I nod. “We really shouldn’t have laughed at his name.”

“Maybe that’s better. His accent felt like someone was smearing honey on my arse. Also, what did he say about that crystal which summons demons or some shit?”

“That Daring wants to find it.” I shrug. “Why does she need it?”

“Maybe she wants kinky sex with tentacled monsters.” Vinyl lies down in the corner and curls into a ball. “Wake me up when they bring food.”

To my surprise, they do bring food, a few hours later. It’s the most popular dish in galaxy, at least among the homeless, students, homeless students, adventure-seekers, and other social margin. It consists of everything the cat dragged in, topped with what one managed to steal from hyenas, pick up in the forest, or find at the bottom of an ancient outhouse, fried together and drowned in brown sauce.

Usually, the ingredients shouldn’t be questioned; asking for them is a serious faux pas, not to mention that it’s not healthy for your brain. However, one can easily estimate their location just by watching what ended up in the stew.

In our case it’s fava beans, lentil, chickpea, grass, and something that looks like meat and pig’s liver. In other words, a mix between Zebrica and Griffon Empire. Not surprising, given the griffon mercenaries.

The inspection of the contents of my bowl gives me an idea.

“Vinyl!” I say. “Do you want to eat my fava beans?”

“What?” Vinyl mutters groggily. “You know that I can’t–”

“Exactly.” I smirk. “You know how it’s always easier to run away from the sick bay?”

Vinyl nods. “So you want me to run away? How about you?”

“I’ll think of something. Also, I guess you won’t leave me here? Call the big guns, cavalry, all the international organisations, even the friggin’ Celestia.”

“Okay.” Vinyl swallows a mouthful of fava beans.

We don’t have to wait long for the effects. After a while, Vinyl gets a fever, and when she takes off her sunglasses, I see that the whites of her eyes turned yellow. Combined with red irises, it looks nightmarish.

“Guards?” I yell. “Come here! My friend is sick!”

Two zebras walk to us. “What happened to her?” one of them asks.

“She has a fever and her eyes turned yellow.”

“Meh,” the zebra replies. “At least she won’t get malaria.”

“Pu– I mean, Kloppenfuhrer will be pissed if something happens to us,” I say. “We’re an important part of his plan.”

The zebras look at each other unsurely. “Okay. Let’s take her to the sick bay.”

They open the door and lead Vinyl outside. I sit back and wait for the results.

Ten minutes later, I hear a large explosion. Someone runs above me, yelling “fire!” and “she’s running away!”. Another explosion follows, ending in a barrage of smaller explosions. Did they bring a howitzer, or what?

“Ammo! For Aryanne’s sake, the ammo!”

Shit.

The explosion shakes all the dust from the ceiling on me, followed by some smaller stones. I lie down, covering my head. Too bad this damn grating is apparently explosion-proof – it didn’t budge.

A few minutes later, everything goes silent. I stand up, trying to clean my coat, when I see Kloppenfuhrer walking downstairs. His uniform is torn and burned and he has a deep cut on his forehead. For some reason, he has my rifle and is accompanied by a couple of soldiers.

“What’s up, Pulli?” I ask. “Bad day at work?”

“Your friend ran away,” he mutters, glaring at me.

“Really?” I smirk. “I’d have never guessed.”

“Shut up, smartass.” He gives me a look that probably is supposed to be menacing. “As you probably helped her, we decided to reconsider your death penalty.”

Death penalty? Why do I learn about it only now? “Wait, mate,” I say. “No trial or anything? I demand a trial.”

“There was already a trial,” Pulli replies. “I was your attorney. I managed to change flaying alive to shooting.”

“Thank you,” I mutter. “My company will send you a check.”

“I’ll be flattered. Now, come on.”

“Now?” I ask. Vinyl should better hurry, but knowing her, she’s in the forest, fucking a bunch of gorillas. “How about an appeal?”

“You can appeal to the emperor himself, Ms. Turner,” Pulli says. “Oh wait, he’s dead. What a shame.”

The soldiers lead me outside. In comparison to my previous visit, there’s a few buildings less in here. The zebras also look kinda scared and their uniforms are usually torn, charred, or completely missing. I don’t have much time to look, because my companions lead me outside the castle.

“Can you take off those chains?” I ask. “It’s hard to walk and I don’t know how far we’ll go.”

“Don’t worry, it’s not far away,” Pulli replies, pointing at the nearby jungle. Just great. After Maneaus, I’m sick of jungle and it seems that I’m going to die in one.

I take a look at the soldiers. To my surprise, none of them looks older than fifteen and they definitely don’t look like zebras. More like ponies with stripes, who are high on something. They’re also not white: it looks more like paler versions of their fathers’ coat colours.

Just great. It seems that the late emperor took what remained of the winged zebra program and changed it into his personal guard. I’m more and more fucked with every minute.

Finally, we stop at the border of the forest and I’m given a shovel.

“Dig,” Pulli says.

It’s kinda hard to dig with my hooves, so it gets dark before I’m done. Pulli’s henchponies (henchzebras?), who previously were wandering around aimlessly, gather together, looking at the sky unsurely.

“Okay, I think it’s deep enough,” Pulli mutters, grabbing my rifle.

“Wait a minute!” I exclaim, hoping that those zebroids know Equine. “I need to perform a ritual before I die, or else my ghost will come back to haunt you all.”

“Oh come on!” Pulli levitates a rifle, but the biggest of his companions puts a hoof on his shoulder, while the others aim their submachine guns at him.

“Ghosts are not a laughing matter.” I was kinda expecting him to speak in monosyllables, but the guy somehow sounds like he is from Whinnyapolis. “She may become a bad Mzimu.”

“Yeah, that,” I reply. “Very bad Mzimu and I’ll cause bad juju to happen to you, yeah. You can count on that.”

Pulli sighs. “You do realise that she’s fucking with you?”

“What if she’s not?” the other soldier asks. He, on the other hoof, sounds like he’s from Canterlot. “Let her do that ritual.”

“Thank you.” I stand in the middle of the hole I dug and close my eyes, hoping that they don’t know Pferdisch. “Leck mir den Arsch recht schon!” I exclaim. The look on Pulli’s face is priceless. “Fein sauber lecke ihn, fein sauber lecke, leck mir den Arsch!”

The zebras stand straight, looking solemnly at the forest, while Pulli nearly loses his shit.

“Das ist ein fettigs Begehren,nur gut mit Butter geschmiert, den das Lecken der Braten mein tagliches Thun!” I nearly break my tongue on Pferdisch and my accent is far from perfect, but screw that. If I want Vinyl to hear me, I have to yell as loudly as I can.

“Drei lecken mehr als Zweie! Nur her, machet die Prob' und leckt, leckt, leckt!” Still, no one comes and I’m running out of song. Not to mention Pulli’s patience.

“Jeder leckt sein Arsch fur sich,” I say, my throat sore. “An advice you should take,” I mutter.

“Are you done?” Pulli asks, aiming the rifle at me.

“Wait!” I shout. “I… I need to take a dump!”

“What’s the problem?” Pulli asks. “You will anyway, when we shoot you.”

“But… I can become an evil demon if I soil the place of my burial,” I reply quickly. “And I’d haunt you for the rest of your lives.”

Pulli sighs and smack his forehead with his hoof. “Okay… You can go in those bushes, but if you try to run, we’re gonna shoot you.”

I crawl out of the hole and hide behind the bush. If only I could take those chains off… I look around to find some rock, but all I see is a pair of eyes.

I blink, trying to get used to darkness. The eyes belong to a large gorilla hanging from the tree.

“Hello,” I say. “Can you help me?”

“Got cigs?” The gorilla smirks.

“The guys who want to kill me have a lot,” I whisper, hoping that they can’t hear me. “You can take them.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” the gorilla replies and takes the ring off my horn. “You look better without this.”

“Thanks.” I smirk and turn towards the place where I was supposed to be executed.

“Did you swallow a rope there?” Pulli yells. “Come on, we don’t have all night.”

“I’m about done,” I reply, using my magic to open the shackles restraining me. “Like, now!” I aim my horn and fire a spell blindly.

Well, too bad one of the zebroids stood in its way – I put a lot of magic into it and if it wasn’t for him, Pulli would now lie on the ground, mourning the tragic loss of his balls.

“I’m sorry!” I yell, jumping out of the bushes and kicking two zebroids in mid-air. Behind me, I hear a wailing call. A hundred of dark, muscular bodies jump off the trees, screaming like hell and banging their fists against their chests.

Pulli’s companions quickly reach a conclusion that it wasn’t in their job description – they drop their weapons and run away, leaving only a cloud of dust behind. Pulli realises that a bit too late – he only manages to turn before one of my chains tangles around his hind legs.

He tries to reach the rifle, but I levitate it out of his hooves before pulling him to me.

“I don’t like to have debts, mate,” I mutter through gritted teeth, before smacking him over the head with the butt of the rifle.

To think about it, I could’ve told him to tell Kyrie that I still owe her a cunt punt. I turn to say that, but he’s too unconscious to listen to me.

“I claim his wallet!” a familiar voice calls.

“Vinyl?” I ask.

“Who else?” Vinyl trots to me. For some reason she’s hiding her mane under a soldier’s helmet and she’s painted in zebra-like stripes. “It took me a while to convince these guys to help us.”

“How did you run away?” I ask.

“Oh, that was easy,” Vinyl replies. “Those morons didn’t take my lighter and all those fava beans and meat gave me bad gas. It kinda escalated from there…”

“She gave us cigs,” the gorilla I met earlier says. “And she said good things about gorillas. She says she has a plan to capture the big zebra castle!”

“You have?” I ask.

“Of course!” Vinyl exclaims, a bit too loudly. I can see sweat washing off the stripes on her coat.

“She better have.” The gorilla chuckles. “Name’s Askari. We fight zebras in the south and we’ll fight them in the north. We are proud gorillas! We have class con-sciou-sness!” He shows me a small, green book with a white hoof and horn on the cover.

Belka, Strelka – if I ever meet you again, I’m gonna either kick your flanks, or personally ship you the biggest vat of vodka you’ve ever seen.

“What kind of class consciousness?” Vinyl asks.

Askari stands in attention. “Old gorilla legend says that we ruled the whole planet once. We know that it isn’t true. Our cousins ruled the planet and blew it up for ten times ten thousand years. And when gorilla kind learned to speak, equines took over the planet and enslaved the gorillas. Now our time comes. Now, we shall come back and defeat them to bring back equality–”

“It was a thing a few years ago, but–” Vinyl pauses, probably having a glimpse of my thoughts – I’m currently trying to tell him something like “never argue with a big, armed gorilla, especially if he brought an army with him.”

“So, how are we going to capture the castle?” Askari asks.

I look at Vinyl. “Hmm, we have some chains and you’re already disguised as a zebra… Why did you even do that? I’m pretty sure someone would find that offensive.”

“A pony running away looks different from zebras running away, so I stole a spare uniform and some engine grease so I wouldn’t look suspicious.”

“That… makes sense,” I mutter. “Okay, so the plan is…”

It’s already morning when we reach the castle. Vinyl is walking in the front, carrying my rifle. Gorillas walk behind her in a row, tied with lianas, their heads low. I’m in chains again, dragging unconscious Kloppenfuhrer behind me.

Well, actually, we had to help him stay unconscious. A few times.

Two zebras appear on the wall and look at us unsurely. On one hand, it’s a bunch of gorillas, but they’re all led by what appears to be a zebra, even though her stripes started to blur a bit. One of them aims a gun at us, but soon lowers it, seeing how unflinchingly Vinyl walks.

“Hello friends, I came to make amends,” Vinyl says. “Gorillas surprised us and kicked my soldiers’ ass. Poor Kloppenfuhrer desperately needs a curer.”

Oh, fuck no. Is she that dumb? She saw so many zebras here speaking normally and still thinks they all rhyme? We’re so dead.

“Who are you?” one of the zebras asks. “Why are you speaking Equine? We know Zebrican, you know.”

“I fought brave and well, and gave gorillas hell.” Vinyl doesn’t let such details as linguistic accuracy get in her way. “I took them all prisoner and led to be… prisoners.”

“She must be from the east,” the other zebra says to the first one. “Remember, Ujanja Yaani, how I told you that everyone in the east are insane junkies?”

“Totally,” Ujanja Yaani replies. “Are we letting her in?”

“We have a few free cells in the dungeon,” the other zebra says. “Open the gate!”

“See?” Vinyl whispers to me when we enter the castle. “I knew it’d work.”

“Think how to get out of here,” I mutter. “It seems that the hovercraft isn’t here anymore.”

Vinyl opens her mouth, but at the same moment, hell breaks loose. The gorillas are screaming, showing that they weren’t as tied as they seemed to be. Askari and his companions, armed in machetes, sticks, and various firearms they stole from any unlucky zebras they met before charge at the soldiers.

“Run!” I exclaim, freeing myself from the chains and dragging Vinyl behind me. I don’t give a fuck about gorillas, zebras, Kloppenfuhrer, and the beef they have with each other. I just want to be as far from this place as possible.

“You said no one captured this castle before?” Vinyl asks. “Are we the first?”

“No one captured it by force,” I reply, running towards the keep. “Deception and ruse of war were much more effective.”

Something explodes behind us. Even though Vinyl blew up most of the ammo, zebras apparently had something left in store. That, or the gorillas put their hands on someone’s grenade stash.

“Mommy!” Vinyl flinches when a bullet flies past her. “Have you seen that? They were trying to shoot me!”

“Go and complain to them about that,” I mutter, kicking the door of the keep open. “And stop dodging those bullets when you hear them! They’re all faster than sound. If you hear it, it didn’t hear you… Fuck!” As I’m about to close the keep’s door, a bullet flies past me, grazing the tip of my ear. I dart to my right, hearing its sound.

“Hey, you dodged…” Vinyl chuckles.

“Go to Tartarus and ask the demons to sodomise you with a pitchfork,” I mutter, getting up. Something heavy hits the keep’s door, but it seems that we’re safe here, at least until someone decides to shoot at it with a howitzer. I take a look at Vinyl’s face and it gives me an idea.

“Engine grease,” I say. “Why would they have engine grease if they don’t have anything with an engine? Where did you find it?”

“Near the laundry,” Vinyl replies. “It’s somewhere in the dungeon.”

We go downstairs, leaving the battle behind. The dungeon is kinda decrepit and I expect a ton of limestone falling on our heads at any moment. We run next to a cell with a skeleton of some hapless wanker – judging by the armour, he’s here for at least a few centuries. Then, Vinyl takes a sharp turn and we end up in the laundry room.

Damn. What did I expect? There are just washing machines here.

“Just washing machines here,” Vinyl mutters.

“I noticed that even without your help,” I reply. “So, what’s your great plan now? Are we gonna build a fucking flying machine out of those?” Just when I say that, a grenade explodes outside, causing a dryer to collapse. Behind it, there’s a small, forgotten door, labelled…

Oh, sweet motherfucking Celestia. It’s a garage. We’d better hope it’s not empty. I hit the door with my magic, opening them and walk into the darkness behind it.

“Holy shit,” I whisper when my eyes get used to dim interior. “It’s beautiful.”

In front of us, there’s a damn tank.

Well, as a matter of fact, it’s a light, fast tank, which still means that it can pack a punch with its cannon and despite serious lack in the armour department, it’s still enough to stop bullets. The whole thing is small and agile, not to mention that it looks brand new.

Where did those guys get it? Judging by a couple of hearts painted on its side, it’s Aryanne’s. However, the tank was probably bought in Great Bridletain – when I look inside, the first thing I see is a tin kettle and a couple of teacups and saucers made of the same material. There’s also a heavy-duty gramophone and a complete discography of The Useless Buggers.

“I found shells,” Vinyl says, carrying a green wooden case. “There’s also some fuel and hardtacks here.”

“I guess our friend Pulli prepared himself a getaway in case things went south,” I mutter, smirking. “Well, how thoughtful of him.” I help Vinyl with carrying stuff into the tank and slip inside.

“Okay,” I mutter. “How do you drive it?”

You know, I drove a dozer once, when hunger and lack of employment led me to a nearby construction site. The dozer’s operator was slightly tipsy, so he showed me how to drive it. Thus, I more or less know how to drive something with tracks.

Well, I also crashed the dozer and brought down half of the construction site, but I know the basics. Also, they never caught me.

A big red button catches my attention. If the constructors had a bit of decency, this one turns on the engine. I push it, but all I hear is something that sounds like a click of an enormous firing pin. Oh yeah, that was the second option.

“The manual says this is the emergency trigger, in case the shooter is dead or their trigger doesn’t work,” Vinyl mutters, levitating a book she found under one of the seats.

“How about the starter?” I ask, looking at the levers in front of me. Left lever – left track. Right lever – right track. That’s all I know.

“Set the gear lever to neutral with your left hind hoof,” Vinyl replies. “Then push the green button in the middle of the right steering lever.”

“This small piece of shit?” I ask, looking at said button. Yeah, totally ergonomic. What do I have to do to turn around? Stand on my head and burp the national anthem?

I push the button. The roar of the engine nearly deafens me, so I put on the helmet to dull the sound a bit. The floor vibrates and, for some reason, the gramophone turns on, attacking my poor ears with a loud guitar riff.

“Set the gear lever to D,” Vinyl says, “and push both steering levers gently forward.”

No problem. I push the levers and the tank darts forward, ramming into the wall. We’re no match for the walls of the old castle, but this one was built much later and gives up immediately. The tank jumps, crushing the bricks into fine red mist.

“Gently!” Vinyl exclaims, falling to the back of the tank. She quickly recovers, taking position by the cannon.

Where to go? I can’t see shit through the small visor in front of the tank. Vinyl has a periscope, but her hints are completely useless – as long as we’re in the dungeon, we can hardly see anything.

“Does this thing have headlights?”

“I can’t read the manual, it shakes too much!” Vinyl exclaims. “Just drive forward! It’s a garage, after all!”

I push the levers harder and we pierce another wall. Bingo! The sun almost blinds me, but I can see that the fight is still going. That is, until the zebras and gorillas see a rampant tank rushing across the yard. I only have a general idea on how sharply it turns, so we drive somewhat erratically.

Suddenly, I hear a loud explosion. I duck, hoping that we didn’t get a direct hit. However, the tank still goes forward, not to mention that I hear loud cackling and smell cordite.

“Vinyl, what the fuck?” I ask.

“I issued a warning shot.” Vinyl pulls the lever and a large case falls out of the back of the cannon. “I think I blew up the outhouse.”

“Well, one could say that shit hit the fan…” I mutter.

“If you say so.” Vinyl aims her horn at the gramophone, making it louder.

I was born to fuck shit up;
I was born to tell the truth!
About folks who fight a war,
To get money, fun, and stuff!

Well, at least we have an appropriate soundtrack. I wonder if the vocalist is from the same place as Wild Hunt, or he just really wanted ‘truth’ and ‘stuff’ to rhyme against all odds. A moment of deconcentration causes me to smash into some booth and scare a couple of gorillas away.

“Watch out!” Vinyl yells. “Also, see that cunt with a golden mark on her helmet? Drive close to her.”

Normally, I wouldn’t obey, but the shortest way to the gates happens to be the one next to the zebra in question. When we drive by her, Vinyl turns the turret in such a way that the barrel of our cannon knocks the helmet off her head. Had the zebra been taller, she’d also lose her head. She stops to shoot at us, but Vinyl opens the hatch and levitates the weapon out of her hooves.

“My shotgun,” Vinyl says. “She had my shotgun.”

“You nearly smashed her skull for a shotgun?” I ask, shuddering. “We’re getting out of this country. Like, now.”

I was born to fuck shit up!
I was born to storm the gates!
Of the folks who reap the seeds
of the turmoil, war, and hate!

Well, this rhyme is much better. The tank rams at the gate, smashing it to splinters. The tracks bang against the bridge and we get out on the plain outside the castle.

“Hmm, you said no one ever stormed the gates of this castle,” Vinyl says. “How about storming it from the inside?”

“It doesn’t count,” I reply, taking a sharp turn north. “We didn’t capture it. We ran away from it.”

“Does anyone ever run away from it?”

I sigh, rubbing my temples. “I don’t know. I guess we can assume we were the first.”

“Can we go back and be the first ones to capture it?” Vinyl asks.

“No.” I push the levers harder. Despite the sheer awesomeness of the tank, it’s not as fast as Hot Coco. The speedometer shows sixty kilometres or thirty seven miles per hour. Inkie can run faster. Hell, I can run faster, though I risk hacking my lungs out.

“How long did we travel to that castle?” I ask.

Vinyl shrugs. “Dunno, a few hours? That hovercraft seemed rather fast.”

Damn. It may take days before we reach the lake. At least the fact that the hovercraft got through means that the terrain is rather flat. Also, we’re going north, but I only have a vague idea where the lake is and Pulli didn’t leave any maps in the tank. In other words, we’re screwed.

“Do you want some tea?” Vinyl asks.

I barely stop myself from telling her where she can stick the tea. In fact, I’d drink a cup or two. I’d also eat more of that stuff they gave us back at the castle, even though there was meat in it. Or maybe because of that. Interesting what high temperatures do to me.

After a few hours, even tea and ventilation don’t help. It’s getting hotter and hotter. Even touching the walls can result in a nasty burn. At least the gramophone died. Too bad we’re next.

“We’d better stop,” Vinyl says. “The engine makes weird noises and I smell.”

I release the levers and the tank slowly skids to a halt. When we get out, it turns out that the outside is only slightly cooler and we’re in the middle of the savanna where the only source of shadow is our tank. Not good.

Even worse, the cause of the weird noises of the engine is apparently a lack of fuel as well as boiling water in the cooler. We have a few cans of fuel with us, but this machine drinks more than Berry in her best years. Pulli probably didn’t think this through.

I levitate a can and pour its contents into the fuel tank. Vinyl lies in the shadow and waves her helmet to cool herself down. It’s almost noon, no wonder that it’s so hot. Behind us there’s brown ground spanning to the horizon. Same is in front of us – it seems they didn’t hear about roads or road signs.

Suddenly, I hear a loud roar. I duck behind the tank, readying the rifle in case zebras found us. All I can see is a cloud of dust approaching us rather rapidly. What the hell? As it gets closer, I can’t help but notice that it’s another tank. However, something tells me that it doesn’t belong to any Zebrican army or military organisation. The sheer amount of graffiti, stickers, additional fuel tanks, and rather improbable weapons mounted on it makes it totally unstealthy. It even has a spiked grill in the front, complete with a teddy bear holding a plate saying “Have a nice death, cunt”.

The whole thing kinda reminds me of my distant cousin, coming from that branch of my family that never left Oatstralia. We don’t talk about her much. She–

“Fuck a duck! Cousin Minuette! What are ya doing here, old drongo?” A small mare emerges from the gaudy tank, spitting a cigarette. “Actually, nice to see ya. We got kinda lost on our way to Sydneigh.”

“Kinda?” Vinyl chuckles. She’s eyeing my cousin curiously. “It’s Zebrica. A totally different continent.”

“Shit.” A female camel emerges from the tank. “I told you we weren’t in Oatstralia! No giant spiders for three days!”

“I’d remember crossing the fucking ocean!” my cousin shouts back. “We weren’t that drunk!”

“Why so spewing?” a zebra climbs out of the tank and stretches his hooves. “No worries. We made it here, we can make it back to Sydneigh.”

“But how could we cross the ocean?” the camel asks.

“We’d better let that issue through to the keeper.” My cousin shrugs. “We need to get back to Sydneigh as fast as possible.”

“Wait,” I say. “Could you lend us some fuel? We need to go to a lake far north from here.”

“Yeah, and some cigs.” The corners of Vinyl’s mouth drop. “Those damn gorillas stole mine.”

“No worries,” my cousin replies. “Also, there’s a village nearby. It’s still standing after our visit, surprisingly…”

“And about the lake,” the camel mutters, “We were there, like, two days ago.” He points at the side of their tank – the paintjob is somewhat damaged in a few places, as if somepony shot it with a large gun. “They didn’t take us well.”

I nod. My cousin’s friends pour some fuel into our cans and after a few hours, when the temperature drops a bit, we go further.

After another hour, we reach the village. It consists mainly of small huts built of whatever junk you could find in there and is inhabited by about thirty zebras, who hide upon seeing us.

“We come in peace!” I exclaim, emerging from the tank. Apparently we look non-military enough for an old zebra to walk out of the hut and bow.

“Err… Lake?” I ask, looking at the old guy. “Big nasty wankers with too many airships?”

The guy shrugs.

“You’re doing it wrong,” Vinyl says. She jumps out of the tank and grabs a stick. Then she draws the lake in the sand in front of her, complete with trees, the airport, and the weather factory around it. The old zebra looks at the picture and nods.

“Where is it?” Vinyl asks, loudly and clearly.

The zebra raises his hoof and points in the north-eastern direction. Vinyl smiles and levitates a pack of hardtack to him. The zebra smirks and gives her one of the numerous necklaces he’s wearing – the one with a crude cat’s head made of clay.

“Why did you give our food to him?” I ask when we get back to the tank.

“Karma always comes back,” Vinyl replies. “And he was nice to us.”

After travelling for two days across the plateau, I must admit that Vinyl was right. There were abandoned villages. There was a village where the locals were trying to eat us, and the one where they shot our tank with a trebuchet. But there were also villages where we were given food and water… even a village where we became godmothers of a newborn foal.

And now, we’re near this Luna-damn lake. The road towards it is littered with nests of machine guns, and barricades made trunks, bags of sand, and barbed wire.

We take the first barricade by simply riding over it – the zebras who were there simply ran away when they saw that we weren’t going to stop.

“Two more on the left!” Vinyl exclaims, firing above their heads to scare them. A burst of gunfire bounces off the armour. I try to protect the fuel tanks and the ammunition racks, but it’s kinda hard – it’s not easy to turn a shitton of steel on a dime. At least they don’t seem to have anything bigger than machine guns…

Kaboom!

What the fuck is going on? Something heavy falls on my head and I’m afraid it’s Vinyl. I push the levers with all might, but the tank spins wildly. It seems that one of the tracks is damaged.

“Fuckshitcuntcrapdamnbloodyhelldammit…” Vinyl spits out. She stands up, levitating a shell. Another missile hits as just when she loads it and shoots. A sheet of metal almost cuts my head off. Vinyl falls out of her seat again; our shot goes wide, hitting the wall of a large building made of red brick.

We’re still driving like a drunk jackaroo, but at least we’re still moving – in the red building’s general direction. Through the hole in the armour I can see four zebras with a rocket launcher.

“Do we have another shot?” I ask.

“I’d rather not risk it!” Vinyl shouts back.

“I must try.” I aim my horn at the zebras. Soon, one of them rolls back, holding his balls. He drops the launcher on his friend’s hoof. At the same time our tank turns, so I can’t see the results, but the explosion suggests that the whole thing went off.

“Watch out!” Vinyl screams. I only have time to release the levers before we pierce through the wall of the red building. Brick dust gets in my throat and a fit of coughing almost makes me spit my lungs out. With screeching and wailing, the tank stops inside of something that looks like a factory hall.

“Seems that we’re safe,” Vinyl mutters.

Suddenly, I hear the sound of wooden floor cracking.

“Fuck.”

When I wake up, the tank is in the building’s basement, surrounded by broken planks. I raise from the metal floor slowly, checking if my limbs are still in their places. Vinyl is groaning – apparently the case with tea brewing kit fell on her head.

“Come on,” I whisper, levitating the sniper rifle. “We’d better get out of here before they check what happened to us.”

“Your mom will check what happened to us,” Vinyl mutters. “They’ll just assume that we died and leave us alone. That’s what they do in the movies.”

“Yeah, and the guy who comes to repair your washing machine has a dick bigger than the barrel of this tank,” I reply. “Move your arse. We need to get out of here.”

Cursing under her breath, Vinyl follows me. As soon as we leave the tank, she smiles widely. I’m not sure why. The basement is just full of shelves and most of them got crushed when our tank landed on them.

“It’s a brewery!” Vinyl exclaims, grabbing a bottle of beer that somehow survived our landing.

Oh, hell no. I turn to Vinyl to see her staggering towards me and levitating several bottles of beer. She puts them in the belt she found in the tank, used to carry shells in it. After a while, she looks like the Hearth’s Warming tree we made with Berry when we were students.

“So, what are we gonna do now?” Vinyl asks, chugging a beer. Something tells me that it’s not gonna be the only one.

“Upstairs,” I reply, trotting towards the stairs. Climbing takes a while, mostly because the barrel of the tank is now firmly embedded in them, but we managed to find a way around it. Vinyl doesn’t even lose one bottle of beer in process.

The interior of the brewery is dusty and decrepit; in the middle of the place there are a few copper fermentation tanks. One of them looks like it was hit by a shell a while ago, spilling whatever was in it on the floor. Since then, it went moldy, so I immediately start coughing, leaning against some pipes. The windows are boarded and large part of the roof is missing.

“How’s the situation?” Vinyl asks. “Can we get out?”

“Let’s see…” I levitate a copper pipe and knock the boards in the window with it.

Immediately, we hear a roar of heavy machine gun fire. In a few seconds, the boards change into splinters and the pipe is cut in half by a bullet.

Vinyl clicks her tongue. “It occurs to me that some nervous chap wants us dead.” She takes a sip of her beer. “But why don’t they come here?”

“They remember the balls of that guy with a rocket launcher,” I reply. “Also, they think we still have a tank. And even if we don’t, we still have a sniper rifle with messed-up sights, your shotgun and what appears to be a metal closet full of submachine guns.”

Vinyl takes a look at said closet. I guess it’s probably the only reason why the building is still standing – no one would expect an armoury in an abandoned brewery.

“You mean, that piece of junk?” Vinyl asks, grabbing one of the submachine guns. “Della Mortes had those. I did lots of holes in the ceiling when I tried to shoot that. And it only has ammo for two seconds… Kinda like Bacio della Morte.”

“That’s not something I wanted to know,” I say, levitating the remains of the pipe and banging it at another window. Just like before, the reaction is immediate. And just like before, I can see bright red tracers among the rounds that poke holes in a vat behind us. Those stand out like an alicorn in a Griffonian brothel…

“What are you doing?” Vinyl yells. “I nearly peed myself!” She looks at her beer. “In fact, soon I’ll have to…”

I ignore her, looking at the dirty wall. Right above the floor, there are a few bricks missing. The hole isn’t big, but my rifle and the scope should fit.

I take the bullets with red tips – if I recall correctly, the griffon who sold them to me said that those are incendiary. I slide them inside the rifle and pull the bolt.

“Are you gonna shoot them?” Vinyl asks me as I lie down by the hole and put the barrel in it. I don’t say anything, too busy staring through the scope. I must remember how much skewed to the right it is…

The heavy machine gun stands between bushes, about three hundred metres from the brewery. I look at the scope, but apparently the knobs are showing the distance in arshins. What the fuck? How much is three hundred metres in arshins? I raise the rifle slightly and move it to the left. The zebras seem to discuss the strategy. One of them is waving his hooves around, while the other two check their SMGs. Bad idea. Now I know who’s in charge. I aim carefully…

Blam!

My bullet pierces through the cooling system of the gun; zebras disappear in a vapour of steam, shouting and dropping on the ground. It seems that the barrel is now useless.

“Run like motherfucking hell!” I yell to Vinyl, levitating the rifle on my back. We dart out of the brewery. The zebras struggle with the spare barrel, but they’re too slow. Even though Vinyl is drunk and still carries all those bottles, we’re gonna run away before they’re able to change it.

That is, we would run away if Vinyl didn’t choose exactly that moment for her daily dose of going full retard.

“Sniper stop sniping!” she yells at the zebras, stopping in the middle of the plateau. “But this time, the sniper won’t stop!” She takes a sip of her beer while I take cover in the nearby bomb site. “Shit, I need to take a leak… Anyway, beer!” She raises her hoof. “Cerveza! How many cervezas can you chug? Uno! Dos! Tres!”

At “tres”, the bottle she’s levitating explodes, spraying her with beer and shards of glass. With a slight delay, I hear the whistle of the bullet.

“Holy shit!” Vinyl, now completely sober, runs to the ditch. “They have a sniper too!”

You don’t fucking say. The remains of the bottle don’t even manage to fall to the ground when my instincts kick in. The sniper is behind us and either missed Vinyl’s dumb head or tried for a trick shot. He also used a bright red tracer—what’s wrong with zebras and tracers?—so he’s probably an idiot.

A split second later, I turn to him, my rifle ready. He’s definitely an idiot – he chose a thorntree as his hideout. Now he’s looking desperately at the ground, not sure if he should jump off of it.

No chance, sucker. I aim quickly and pull the trigger.

My instincts may be good, but the scope and my aim still suck. The bullet goes right of the crosshair and instead of giving the sniper a second anus it hits the branch he’s sitting on. Through the scope I can see a fountain of splinters. Then the weakened branch breaks and the zebra drops to the ground.

“Minuette!” Vinyl screams. “Let’s get the fuck outta here!”

I turn to see that our friends installed a new barrel on their machine gun and they’re now hauling the whole thing towards us. The only way of escape is going to the sniper, who’s limping away, leaving his equipment behind.

We run to the thorntree, zig-zagging through the tall grass. The bullets fly above our heads. In an act of desperation Vinyl turns towards the soldiers and throws an empty beer bottle at them.

I open my mouth to say that it wasn’t very helpful—not the best last words, but still better than nothing— when I see that the pursuers run away from the bottle, ditching the machine gun. I don’t have time to contemplate this phenomenon – Vinyl runs faster than me, so I speed up to catch up with her.

Suddenly, Vinyl trips over something, losing some of her bottles. I stop and help her up, realising that we’re next to the sniper’s former hideout and that Vinyl just found his stuff.

“Hey! He even had beer!” Vinyl grabs something bottle-shaped. “Strange. It’s made of metal. Must be a limited edition…”

“It’s a grenade, you idiot!” I yell. A typical, bottle-like grenade from Hooviet Union. There’s another one lying in the grass next to me.

Well, that’d explain why the zebras ran away seeing the bottle. Unfortunately, they already noticed that the “grenade” smashed against their machine gun rather than explode, and they’re coming back to their positions.

I sigh and take the grenade from Vinyl. I push the lever with my magic and throw it. The zebras smirk at each other, probably thinking that it’s another bottle. Then, one of them (probably the biggest jackass) decides to show how cool he is and shoots the grenade with the machine gun.

Paradoxically, that’s what saves the lives of those wankers. The grenade explodes in mid-air a bit further away from them. Nevertheless, it throws them on the ground and probably deafens them. I hear ringing in my ears, but I grab Vinyl and teleport with her as far as I can see.

We end up in some ditch, where I throw up – an inevitable side effect of haste teleportation. Vinyl pokes her head outside the ditch and looks around.

“We’re close to the lake,” she says. “But there’s artillery there, not to mention that hovercraft.”

I take a look myself. To my surprise, I see our plane floating in the middle of the lake. A boat is standing nearby. I look through the scope to see Aryanne and some zebra in the boat with Hexie, Inkie, and Lyra. Hexie opens the door of the plane and they all enter it. Weird.

I take a look at the artillery. Well, crap. I can shoot one of the white ponies manning it, but they’ll shoot us back with a shell bigger than Vinyl’s favourite dildo. I look around, searching for an idea and soon I find the large fuel tanks next to the airship base.

“Vinyl,” I say. “I’m trying to find a way of distracting them that doesn’t involve blowing all this shit to hell. Do you have any ideas?”

Vinyl looks at the tanks and smirks. “No.”

“Good.” I check if I still have incendiary rounds, then I load three normal bullets and two incendiaries to the magazine.

“Hey, but I thought violence wasn’t an answer?” Vinyl asks.

“Yeah, and they’re gonna use those airships to drop leaflets,” I mutter, aiming at the fuel tank. “Si vis pacem…”

“... para bellum.” Vinyl says when I poke the first hole in the tank. Fuel starts leaking from it, but I poke two more holes in it, just to be sure. The wall of the tank is now wet with fuel and the next round I have in the chamber is incendiary. What can possibly go wrong?

The fuel bursts into flames. One of the ponies guarding the artillery notices that and shows it to the others. They look at each other unsurely before leaving the cannons on the beach and running away. Well, at least they’re running towards the airport – which means they’ll probably go and fight fire.

“Go!” I exclaim, jumping out of the ditch and running towards the beach. As we reach the water, a loud explosion deafens us, throwing us on the ground. Thick, black smoke obscures the sky. I turn to see that the first tank is gone. The other one, as well as two airships, are on fire. The blonde ponies decide that they’re not paid well enough and flee.

We jump to the water. At least Vinyl can swim well. She put one of her emergency condoms on the barrel of her shotgun so it doesn’t get wet. Too bad I didn’t think of protecting my rifle that way. I wave my hooves, trying to reach the plane as fast as possible.

When we’re halfway across the lake, the second tank explodes, bathing the whole airport in flames. The hangar and airships are burning, shaken by explosions of bombs and hydrogen. Waves almost drown us, but at least the plane is still standing – I hope no one inside decides to fly away, leaving us here.

“Holy shit!” Vinyl yells, seeing as one of the burning airships is lifted off the ground. It flies erratically and rams into the wall of the weather factory.

“Dive!” I exclaim.

The explosion is smaller than I expected, but it’s still enough to be felt even underwater. When I emerge, I see that the airship went kaboom, but half of the factory is still standing, albeit in flames. Freed clouds fly around it, hissing when they touch fire. The main rainbow reactor is exposed. I was once repairing such a thing in Cloudsdale and I know what can happen when it boils…

We reach the plane and climb on it. I don’t think they heard us through all the explosions happening on the shore, but anyway we enter it as quietly as we can, hiding behind the crates standing in the back.

“I’m gonna varn you one last time,” Aryanne says. “Start, or ve’re gonna shoot her!”

I assess the situation. Inkie and Hexie are sitting in the cockpit. Aryanne and some zebra soldier are standing on both sides of the door, holding Lyra at a gunpoint. The zebra has a submachine gun, while Aryanne has a strange pistol with an integral box magazine and attached stock to make using it with hooves easier. A red “9” is painted on the side of the grip panel.

At least they’re not looking at us. I lean from behind my crate and wave at Inkie.

“Turn on ze engines!” Aryanne exclaims.

I nod. Inkie turns on the engines, which roar, props waking up and turning slowly. The plane shakes – I guess something else on the shore blew up.

Vinyl looks at me and at the zebra, readying her shotgun. I shake my head. Lighting my horn, I focus on the small button on the side of the soldier’s submachine gun. I click it, releasing the magazine. The zebra looks at his weapon, dumbfounded, before the stock meets his face. Aryanne turns to us, raising her pistol.

At the same moment, Inkie pushes the throttle lever forward. We dart across the lake. Aryanne loses balance and falls, the bullet from her gun flying above my head. She tries to get up, but at the same time Lyra roars and kicks her in the hoof, tearing the gun out of the stock and the straps holding it. Judging by the sickening crunch, she also breaks something.

“I’m sick of it!” Lyra screams, punching Aryanne. “All the time…” she punches her again. “... you hold me at a gunpoint…” She kicks her and stands in front of her panting. “Why not Inkie for a change?”

Instead of a reply, Aryanne kicks Lyra in the stomach and darts to grab her gun. Inkie turns the plane to throw her on the wall. Vinyl falls on me, while Lyra lands on Aryanne. The zebra wakes up and looks around, but Vinyl quickly smacks him with the butt of her shotgun. Before he can get up again, we take off, which throws us all back.

I get my bearings the fastest and kick the zebra off the plane. The fall is rather short and he lands in water. Unfortunately, just after that I find myself on the receiving end of Aryanne’s punch. Who’d expect she’s so strong? Not me, definitely. The plane makes another wild maneuver, this time preventing Vinyl from grabbing her shotgun.

“Stop helping us, dammit!” I yell to Inkie over the explosions and roar of engines.

“Should I help you?” Hexie runs to us. Lyra accidentally rams into her, but Hexie is much heavier and doesn’t even notice.

“Banzai!” Vinyl yells, smashing a beer bottle on Aryanne’s head. She wants to hit her again, but the sudden turn parts them.

“Fly straight!” I shout.

“They’re shooting at us!” Inkie replies.

Dammit. I look through the window and see the hovercraft following us. We’re pretty far from the ground, but I can still see Kyrie on its roof, firing an autocannon at us. What’s worse, the weather factory eventually blows up, bathing everything in multi-hued, opalising vapour – a product of burning rainbow concentrate. If engines suck it in, we’re dead. It’s heavier than air, but there’s a lot of it. It may burn the air filters and eat through all the sealings.

“Minuette! Watch out!”

I duck, barely avoiding getting shot – Aryanne somehow got her gun back. Lyra rams into her, pushing her towards Hexie, who stands on her front legs, turning rapidly. I’m starting to feel for Aryanne…

“Show her the door!” Lyra shouts.

“Won do piekła, kurwo wściekła!” Hexie yells, her hind legs connecting with Aryanne’s ass, kicking her through the door.

I look through the window. The hovercraft is sinking in the lake, its engines choking and air cushion full of holes burned by rainbow smoke. Aryanne waves her legs helplessly, falling towards the lake which, at this height, will be as hard as concrete.

Shit. I kinda liked her. May the earth rest lightly on her.

A white blur flies below us, trying to reach Aryanne. I look at the hovercraft and notice that Kyrie abandoned her autocannon. She catches Aryanne, or rather, Aryanne lands on her, slowing down. Together, they drop into the water, making a huge splash. Before we get above all the smoke, I notice Kyrie emerging from the lake, holding Aryanne in her hooves.

We circle above the hell we created and fly east as fast as we can, leaving Zebrica behind. For a long time, I just lie on the floor of the plane, panting heavily and listening to Lyra’s bitching.

“Nopony even asked me questions!” Lyra exclaims. “They kept asking Hexie and Inkie about things, but I was only pushed around, held at a gunpoint, poked with barrels… I’m sick of it!”

“We ended up in a dungeon!” Vinyl shouts.

“So did we!” Lyra rolls her eyes. “In the factory, with expired cloud ingredients oozing from the walls! This stuff gives you cancer!”

“They wanted to shoot Minuette.”

“Same. Three times! And they wanted to dip me in the rainbow concentrate! Why didn’t they put Inkie there? They were asking her how the plane worked.”

“They knew she’d die for her friends but wouldn’t want her friends to die for her,” Hexie replies. “Same with me.”

“Shut up for a moment!” Vinyl exclaims. “I think I can hear something.”

“Lucky you,” I mutter. “All I can hear is ringing after all those things blowing up.”

“No, seriously, the radio tries to tell us something.” Hexie turns the knob. “Nah, it’s gone.”

“I’m afraid it’s not,” Inkie says, pointing at something in front of our plane.

I stand up and go to the cockpit to take a look. There’s a large airship in front of us, moving lazily in our direction. Did any of those survive blowing up the airport? I look at it closer. It’s bigger and much more sophisticated than zebra airships, not to mention the rather unusual painting on the side of its balloon: a griffon standing on a crescent moon and waving a sabre at the viewers.

The static coming from the radio disappears. “Good morning, Zebrica! The Great and Powerful Trixie is here to provide entertainment as well as save the lives of her friends!”

“Oh, fuck me,” Inkie mutters, immediately covering her mouth with her hoof.

“Trixie, stop fucking around,” I say to the radio. “What are you doing here and where did you get that airship?”

“The prince gave it to Trixie,” Trixie replies. “He told her to hide somewhere until he becomes a sultan and gave her the airship and twenty janissaries to protect her. Trixie chose to go to Haygypt.”

“I don’t know if you noticed, but we’re not in Haygypt anymore,” I mutter. “How did you get there?”

“Trixie met Daring Do and it turned out that you still didn’t come back,” Trixie replies. “And it wasn’t that difficult to find you, you know. Just look behind you.”

I look back. There’s a long, black pillar of smoke hanging above the horizon, far away from us. Oh yeah, there are no better ways of saying, “Minuette and her friends were here”.

“Okay,” I say. “So, how far are we from Haygypt?”

“Don’t worry,” Trixie replies. “Do you have fuel? Just follow Trixie!”

Luckily, we do have fuel, so all we have to do is to follow the airship. Or rather, the airship soon follows us, because it is still a large, not exactly aerodynamic ball of gas with engines. Well, we’re kinda similar, but without the gas.

It’s late evening when we land in Hayiro. I’m tired as hell. The first thing I do is throw up into the river, probably offending some gods or something. Hexie has to carry Lyra out of the plane. I’m dehydrated, bruised, half-deaf, and I really want donuts. Or pickles. Or both. I’m pretty sure that’s some important nutrients simply evaporated with my sweat.

Oh, and while we’re at it: we all smell, even though Vinyl and I took a bath in the lake.

When leaving the plane, I notice Aryanne’s pistol still lying on the floor. I levitate it and take a closer look. It’s old and somewhat classy, but this is all I can say without at least ten hours of sleep.

“Do you want it?” I ask Inkie.

“No, thanks,” Inkie replies. “I’d shoot myself or worse, someone else.”

“I can take it.” Hexie grabs the gun from me and spins it in her hoof. It goes off, the bullet hitting the ground next to Vinyl’s hoof, while the gun smacks her in the face.

“How about no?” I ask, taking the gun from her. “Let’s see what Daring is doing.”

We find Daring Do in a large house made of clay bricks. She’s sleeping on a deck chair standing on the balcony. Ruby is also there, wrapped in her sleeping bag, cuddling her airgun.

“Daring?” I ask. “We’re home.”

“What took you so long?” Daring Do groans, opening her eyes.

“A bunch of Aryanne’s clones trying to murder us,” I reply. “We translated that information and got out alive while you were listening to your ass growing fat in here so you could at least be grateful.”

“I also had important things to do,” Daring Do says. “I was watching Caballeron all the time.”

“Oh really?” I ask. “And where’s he now?”

“There.” Daring Do points at the house on the opposite side of the street. It has an identical balcony, with Dr. Caballeron sitting on a deck chair. When he sees us, he smiles and waves at us. “He’s watching me too.”

I sigh, smacking my forehead with my hoof. “So, you were sitting there, watching each other all the time?”

“Ruby tried to shoot him, but it’s too far away,” Daring Do says. “So, what does this text say?”

“Some nasty things about your mom,” I reply. “And I’m not sure if Lyra still has it, after they tried to make rainbows out of her.”

“Oh, I still have it,” Lyra says, shuddering. “I hid it… well.”

“Where?” Vinyl asks.

“You don’t want to know.” Lyra produces a piece of paper with the translation and gives it to Daring Do.

Daring Do reads the text quickly and furrows her eyebrows. She scratches her mane, then proceeds to scratch her chin.

“Do you have fleas?” Vinyl asks. “Or lice. I got lice once and my mom shaved my mane off.”

“Shut up,” Daring Do mutters. “Fork in the middle of the desert? I know that place.”

“Are you sure?” I ask. “I thought of some place where river splits, but those probably changed since it was written.”

“Well, not really,” Daring Do replies. “There’s a rock structure in southern Haygypt that does look like a fork when observed from the air. It’s covered in symbols telling a story of mythical war between creatures that came from the sky and demons from the depths.”

“Awesome,” I mutter. “As if Zebrica wasn’t enough.”

“You can always blow it up,” Trixie says. “It appears to be your favourite way to do anything.”

“I’ll consider that possibility,” I say. “But now, I have to go to sleep…”

Author's Note

No matter what Pulli wants to think, "Pulli" is not an old Griffoninan name. That'd be "Ulli" (Ulrich). "Pulli" is a short form of "Pullover", though. Which is more of a pony name.

Minuette's "ritual" is basically one of Mozart's less-discussed works. "Lick my ass clean and well" is probably not something one likes to talk about in music schools.

Won do piekła, kurwo wściekła! - Go to hell, rabid/mad whore! Generally, if something rhymes in one language, Hexie says it in this language so it sounds better. For her.

Jogging, gym, and excessive masturbation can’t really combat the fact that I still like cheap, unhealthy food while having more money for it.

Did I mention that I just love post offices? Especially when I have to make a long call and the mare who’s working there is staring at me and listening to my every word.

Well, at least this time it’s not me who has to make a call. Lyra is still a bit shaken after our visit in Zebrica and she really doesn’t want to go to the post office alone. So here I am, escorting her.

After a while spent arguing over the price of an international call, as well as finding the right number, Lyra finally grabs the receiver, while I stand nearby, listening to her and watching the scratches and dents on the wall. Like, it’s the least interesting post office I’ve ever been to.

“Bonnie?” Lyra asks. “Hello, honey. Yes, I’m in Haygypt. I just called to say that I just remembered about that time when we were together in here…”

What? Did she really drag me here only to talk about good times with Bon Bon?

“Oh, you remember?” Lyra sighs. “That’s weird, because we’ve never been in Haygypt together! But of course you can’t know that, Doomie!”

Wait… What the actual fuck? I know it’s pretty hot in Haygypt now, but did Lyra go insane? And who the hell is Doomie?

“So, where’s Bonnie?” Lyra asks. “Of course… No one realised it’s you? Yeah, right, it took a minute to figure that out… Ponies may start to talk. If Carrot Top invites you over, tell her that you’re sick. We don’t want another wedding, right? Okay. See you later.” She puts the receiver down.

“Could you tell me what was that about?” I ask.

Lyra looks around, but it seems that the mare in the post office doesn’t listen to us. “Doomie is our changeling,” she replies. “He’s pretending to be Bon Bon.”

I sigh. “Lyra, you know that feeling when an explanation not only doesn’t explain shit, but also raises further questions? Because that’s what I’m feeling now.”

“Really?” Lyra raises her eyebrows.

“Yes, really,” I mutter. “For starters, you keep a changeling at home?”

“His name is Doomie,” Lyra says. “Well, we don’t know if he’s actually a guy and he doesn’t really get our concept of gender, but when we presented him the possibilities, he settled on ‘he’.”

“Yeah, I always wanted to explore the perception of gender among changelings.” I roll my eyes. “Why do you have it?”

“He’s pretending to be Bonnie when she’s away,” Lyra whispers. “Just like now. This story about Bonnie’s multiple personalities is only partially true. Some of them are Doomie being a moron who can’t remember his role. That’s why they kicked him out of the hive. Since then he works for a government.”

“What?” I ask, staring blankly at the wall. “Why’d our government hire a changeling to pretend to be Bon Bon?”

“She also works for the government,” Lyra replies. “Just like Flitter and Cloudchaser, she’s a special agent, though her specialty are dangerous magical creatures. When she’s on a mission, Doomie replaces her.” She smirks. “It’s really hard to tell them from each other…”

My mind is suddenly assaulted by very inappropriate images. “Tell me that you didn’t–”

“I did.” Lyra mutters. “Though Doomie doesn’t really get it. He also gets nervous in the crowd and his disguise sometimes fails.”

Suddenly I remember how Ruby told me that there was a changeling on a wedding of… hmm, whose wedding was this? Cranky and Matilda’s? Must be. Of course I didn’t believe her, since such things just don’t happen. Well, except that one wedding when we ended up in a cave. There were definitely changelings there.

“Okay,” I say. “But if that… Doomie is there, then where’s Bon Bon?”

“I believe she’s closer than you think.” The mare behind the desk takes off a wig and glasses, revealing that she’s, in fact, Bon Bon. “The agency isn’t pleased, you know. So far, you turned on an ancient artifact, tried to kill some important politician in the Trottoman Empire, and blew up half of Zebrica. Oh, and one of you apparently secretly married a Trottoman prince. What the hell are you doing?”

“Hello,” I mutter. “Well, it’s not exactly us. And if you examine that pile of toxic crap around the lake in Zebrica, you may find a bunch of blonde guys talking about monsters from beyond our world and total domination. I guess you should worry about that more than about Trixie’s questionable choice of life partners.”

“That’s why you’re still here and not at the nearest medical university as an anonymous corpse donated for students,” Bon Bon replies. “We figured out that you getting that crystal is the best possibility… If you give it to us, of course.”

“We will,” I reply, suddenly imagining Vinyl getting that crystal. Holy shit. “We don’t need it, really. Just promise that the government won’t use it against us.”

“Why would they?” Bon Bon asks. “The princesses are reptilians already, why’d they need more monsters?” She looks at me and chuckles. “Just joking. We’d feel better if this thing was buried somewhere deep in the vaults of the agency, rather than lying somewhere where morons like you, Ahuizotl, or Aryanne can pick it up and accidentally drop a lot of tentacles on our heads.”

“Okay... “ I look at her unsurely. “So, what are you proposing?”

“You do whatever you’re planning,” Bon Bon replies. “I guess after Zebrica Lyra wants to go home, right?”

“Kinda,” Lyra says. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“You’ll go to Doomie and together you’ll gather a recovery team.” Bon Bon stands up. “I guess your friends will need help one day. I’ll contact you soon.” She nods and disappears. Like, literally. At one moment she’s there and then there’s no trace of her. Not even magic or anything.

Lyra doesn’t seem all that surprised. “It’s an old trick,” she says. “One needs a cardboard box and two mirrors.”

“It can’t be done without the box?” I walk to the door of the post office, expecting Bon Bon to pop up again from somewhere. Preferably a mailbox.

“As far as I know, no.”

“I’ll ask Trixie when I meet her,” I say.

We walk down the street to the house Daring Do chose as our headquarters. Dr. Caballeron waves at us from the balcony. We wave back too. After all, one has to be polite to their enemies, unless they’re not polite to us – then we get Zebrica on their asses.

When we walk into the house, Hexie immediately walks to me and throws some dirty plastic frame with some sorry black shreds attached to it on the floor.

“What’s this?” I ask.

“Air filter from our left engine,” Hexie replies. “Or rather what’s left of it after we ran away from Zebrica. The one from the right engine also looks like this.”

“But… you can put new ones there, right?” I grab the filter and break it in my hooves.

“Yes, but I’m afraid I’ll also have to change all the gaskets and seals, as well as rinse everything with fresh fuel to get rid of that rainbow shit inside.” She grabs the remains of the filter. “This will take a while.”

“So, what are we gonna do?” Lyra asks. “We can’t go anywhere without the plane.”

“Well, you’re forgetting about Trixie!” Trixie walks downstairs, assisted by two griffons in red uniforms. She’s wearing a dress matching them, as well as a tiara. She turns to her companions saying, “Hey, did you forget about Trixie’s entrance?”

“Move, peasants!” the griffon exclaims. “The Great and Powerful Trixie is coming!”

“That’s better,” Trixie says. “So, you apparently forgot that Trixie now has an airship at her disposal. And that she can generously lend it to you.”

Ruby appears at the top of the stairs. She looks at us, then at Trixie. Then she makes a gesture imitating masturbation. Where did she learn it? She started shagging her sleeping bag only recently, after all. Nevertheless, it’s oddly fitting.

“Well… that may work,” I say, trotting upstairs. “Sorry guys,” I mutter, pushing one of the griffons aside.

Upstairs, I meet Vinyl, Inkie, and Daring Do sitting at the table and enjoying some tea together. I guess Trixie’s overwhelming personality made them do that – Inkie isn’t usually very sociable, Vinyl prefers whisky over tea, and Daring Do doesn’t really enjoy Vinyl’s company.

“Hello,” Vinyl says. “I guess you already met our princess?” She rubs her horn with her hoof in a suggestive gesture. Well, that explains Ruby at least.

“Typical,” I say. “You can get a pony out of Hoofington, but you can’t get Hoofington out of a pony.”

“My dad says I was conceived in Hoofington,” Vinyl mutters, taking a sip of her tea. “More exactly on the backseat of a taxi.”

Inkie spits her tea. “That’s… a bit more than I wanted to know…”

“Two years and you still didn’t get used to that?” Vinyl shrugs. “Anyway, we’re subjected to endless manifestations of Trixie’s ego. You know, Octavia was once behaving like that when she got some award for cellists. Eventually, I took a leak on her bed so she’d stop acting like a Celestia-damn princess of Uranus.”

“I hope you’re not going to do that again?” I ask, giving her a nasty glare.

“No, of course not,” Vinyl replies.

“Anyway.” Daring Do looks at us and rubs her temples. “Why did Lyra want to call home?”

“She’s gonna leave us for a while,” I reply. “Also, Bon Bon is spying for us and she wants us to give her that crystal as soon as we find it. Probably because she works for some weird government organisation. Oh, and Lyra and Bon Bon keep a changeling at home so he can replace Bon Bon when she’s away. They call him Doomie.”

“Err… Could you repeat that a bit slower?” Inkie asks.

“Hmm, so that’s why Bon Bon agreed when I bursted into her house and demanded drunken sex!” Vinyl exclaims. “On the next day when I visited her and asked for another round, she threw me down the stairs.”

“Should I be listening to this?” Ruby asks, walking into the room. “Or fuck it, no one cares anyway.”

“Language,” I mutter without much care.

“I guess we’ll just leave Lyra and Hexie here,” Daring Do says. “We’ll find the place where the crystal is and retrieve it. Then, we’ll see.”

“Excuse me.” Ruby raises her hoof. “The crystal is ‘it’, while the poem says ‘when you find her, better run’. What if instead of the crystal we’ll find another crazy bitch like auntie Trixie?”

“Translation error,” Daring Do replies. “Don’t worry, kid, the crystal must be there.”

I hear hoofsteps on the corridor. I guess Trixie got tired of explaining her awesomeness to Lyra and went to her room.

“AARGH!” Trixie’s yelling can be heard from behind the wall. “VINYL, TRIXIE’S GONNA FUCKING MURDER YOU!”

“What?” Vinyl asks when we stare at her. “It wasn’t me this time…”

It takes a while before Trixie gets out of the shower. At this time, her griffons prepare the airship to take off, carrying our luggage, and checking all the systems. I walk to the place where they landed to check it out.

Frankly, I’ve seen better airships. It’s small and not very aerodynamic, with an oversized gondola. Probably it was designed to be as big and comfortable as possible without making the whole thing big and difficult to land. The engines are the Trottoman rip-offs of those produced by the Griffon Empire; they can be described as ridiculously underpowered.

I walk inside, deciding to take a look at the cockpit. However, there’s a griffon standing there, who blocks the path with a poleaxe as soon as he sees me.

“You’re not allowed inside,” he says.

“Why?”

“The Great and Powerful Trixie doesn’t want you to blow this airship up,” the griffon replies. “She says you have a terrible track record when it comes to flying machines.”

“Ask the Great and Powerful Trixie how’s her gun safety,” I mutter, turning away from him. I don’t even manage to get across the corridor in the middle of the gondola, adorned with richly-ornamented wood, when Ruby runs inside.

“Move, peasants!” she exclaims. “The Great and Powerful Trixie is coming, as soon as we find a dildo big enough to satisfy her big-ass ego!”

“What?” I ask.

“That’s what auntie Vinyl said,” Ruby replies. “What’s a dildo?”

“Not something you should know,” I say. “Are we leaving?”

“More or less.” Ruby shrugs. “I guess auntie Trixie would want to throw a party for us to admire her, but auntie Daring has none of this shit. On a side note, this whole doctor Pajero is here too. He probably wonders where we’ll go.”

“Of course,” I say. “I was wondering if he was gonna tag along. I’d prefer his company much more than Aryanne’s.”

“Yeah, and we could accidentally lock him in some ancient tomb.” Ruby chuckles. “Though auntie Daring probably wouldn’t approve. She’d have nopony to write about. Also, they have framed photos of each other. You know, I actually broke into his house and found it.”

“Wait… You broke into his house?”

“Auntie Daring taught me.” Ruby smirks. “Though she probably didn’t think I’d check out her luggage at night. Do you know that she still has this amulet from ‘Daring Do and The Ponies from Mars’?”

I sigh. “What did I tell you about other ponies’ things?”

“I couldn’t hear it over the story of how you broke into Bacio della Morte’s vault and took his money,” Ruby replies. “Or how your uncle taught you to open safes.”

Shit. I’m not the best role model. But fortunately, her mother isn’t one either.

Finally, Trixie arrives, surrounded by her guards. I’d rather not be close to her when she’s in her Great and Powerful mode, so I walk to one of the rooms. There’s a Trottoman carpet and quite a comfy couch there, so I drop on it, watching the ground as we take off. Soon, the town gets smaller and we turn south.

The engines hum monotonously, props cutting the air as we slowly advance forward. I notice Daring Do flying outside – I guess the atmosphere of The Great and Powerful Trixie’s court makes her sick and she decided to guide the airship herself.

I hear someone’s silent hoofsteps on the carpet. Swiftly, I turn to face Inkie who backpedals, surprised by my sudden motion.

“What’s up?” I ask when she sits on the couch. “Are you prepared for endless hours of digging?”

“More or less,” Inkie replies. “I’m more afraid about what we can find.”

I wave my hoof. “Don’t worry, it’s just a crystal that can summon things from another dimension which will possibly destroy the world and make us suffer in an unimaginable ways. Nothing to worry about.”

“What if it gets in wrong hooves?” Inkie asks.

“You mean Vinyl’s? She’d probably call the succubi or something.”

“I mean Dr. Caballeron. Or Aryanne.”

I shrug. “Well, from what I’ve heard, the demons don’t like to be summoned. So the first tentacled thing to emerge would wipe the floor with Aryanne’s brain, which would be a nice thing to watch.”

“Well, but then it’d move to us,” Inkie mutters, shuddering. “It’d seep into our bodies, burning them from the inside and changing us into mindless puppets suffering for aeons while being conscious and fully aware of our state.”

“Umm… Are you okay?” I ask, staring at her. This girl worries me sometimes.

“Sorry, I was just thinking of that one time when Blinkie joined the cult.”

And I thought Hexie had a fucked up past. “And what happened to her?”

“She got bored and beat the crap out of everypony,” Inkie replies. “At least that’s what she said.”

“But of course.” I smirk. “Your sister would punch every abomination in the place most resembling a face.”

Inkie chuckles. “Most likely. And then she’d win.”

“Probably a bit insane, but not much more than she already is.” I stretch my hooves and look outside, but all I see is the river in the middle of the desert. “How long are we gonna be flying?”

“I guess till Trixie gets bored.”

Daring Do appears behind the window again and knocks on it. “Tell Trixie to land this flying brothel somewhere here,” she says. “We’re close.”

“Okay.” I walk outside of my room and trot to the biggest hall in the gondola, where Trixie’s lying on the couch, eating grapes while two griffons stand behind her with large clawheld fans.

“Speak,” Trixie says. “The Great and Powerful Trixie is listening to you.”

“To quote Daring Do, we need to land this flying brothel as soon as possible,” I reply.

“The Great and Powerful Trixie approves of your proposition,” Trixie replies and gestures one of the griffons to her – a dark feathered one, who looks like he’s enjoying every minute spent with her, but on the other hoof he’d gladly stab her with a knife he hides under a wide belt of his robe. “Lale Agha, tell the pilots that the Great and Powerful Trixie wants to land.”

“Of course,” Lale Agha replies in a bizarrely high-pitched voice and bows before going to the cockpit.

Finally, we land close to the river, our props making a small sandstorm. When we wait for it to clear, I notice that Vinyl is looking at Lale Agha and barely containing laughter.

“What’s up?” I ask, turning to her.

“Not this dude,” Vinyl replies. “I asked him what his name meant and it’s apparently ‘Tulip’.”

“So?”

“Apparently they name eunuchs after flowers.”

I sigh and facehoof. “You didn’t want to pick up this guy, did you?”

“I kinda did,” Vinyl replies. “He muttered something about stabbing me.”

“You got friendzoned, then.” I shrug. The gate opens and for a while we don’t have time to talk.

Lale Agha walks out of the airship first and yells, “Move! The Great and Powerful Trixie is coming!” Not sure to whom. Probably to sand and the river. Or maybe to all those janissaries who leave the airship next and stand in line as Trixie walks down the stairs.

“Now this is getting ridiculous,” Daring Do mutters when we join her.

“Only now?” I ask.

Daring Do rolls her eyes. “Okay, never mind. I don’t know what they’re gonna do now and I hardly care. We have things to do.” She points at the large rock formation about a hundred metres away from the airship. “That’s it.”

“It doesn’t really look like a fork,” Ruby says.

“More like a tuning fork.” Vinyl looks at the structure. “Life isn’t only about food, you know.”

“Exactly.” Daring Do nods, trotting to the rock. “Also, ancient forks usually had two tines.”

We walk towards the weird monument. About halfway through, Trixie catches up with us, running in the most undignified way possible. She got rid of her dress, but her fur is drenched in sweat anyway and she looks like she’s about to collapse. Better yet, Lale Agha is flying behind her, eyeing us curiously.

“Trixie had to dismiss her guards,” Trixie says. “It’s kinda hard.”

“Couldn’t Trixie just tell them to fuck off?” Ruby asks.

“It’s not as easy. And Prince told Lale Agha never to leave Trixie.”

“That must be getting awkward when you have to take a shit.” Vinyl chuckles.

Lale Agha produces a knife and starts sharpening it.

“He doesn’t like you for what you did to Trixie’s bed,” Trixie explains.

“Does he even like anyone?” Inkie asks. “I know that look. He and Blinkie would make great friends.”

I’d rather not think about that. Luckily, we reach the fork. It’s made of almost black stone covered with symbols engraved in it. There are remains of red paint in some of them. Even though most of it peeled off, those symbols still don’t look particularly friendly. Especially a long paragraph that, from the look of it, is about the most common mistakes made while beheading someone. We walk around it, knocking at the rock from time to time and looking for some signs that would tell us what to do now.

“It’s even more of a tuning fork,” Vinyl says, putting her ear to the wall. “It’s buzzing as if there were bees inside. And they even buzz in A.”

“Imagine how big is the guitar,” I mutter.

“Black basalt,” Inkie says quietly before licking the rock. “About fifty-two percent of silica. Are there any volcanoes here?”

“Not that I know of,” Daring Do replies. “I guess someone brought it here, though the nearest volcano is in Haythopia…”

“Even better,” Inkie says. “Such a regular shape couldn’t be achieved naturally and I can’t see any traces of sculpting. It was cast.”

“What?” I ask. “It’s a basalt fork lying in the middle of the desert. Three metres tall, five metres wide, about fifty metres long – twenty five for the handle and twenty five for each tine. Imagine how big the mold would have to be. And since it’s made of basalt, it’d have to be filled with lava.” I make quick calculations. “Eleven hundred twenty five cubic metres of lava.”

“So it weighs up to three thousand six hundred tons,” Inkie says. “Even if it wasn’t cast here, who’d transport that across the desert?”

“Aliens.” Daring Do shrugs. “I know geology is fun and stuff, but I always liked poetry better.” She grabs the piece of paper. “So, we found the fork in the middle of the desert, now we have to go ten steps towards the sun…”

“Which sun?” Trixie asks.

“What?” Daring Do groans. “There’s only one.”

“Yes, but it’s on the right when it rises and on the left when it sets,” Trixie replies, hiding in the shadow of the fork. “Where do we go?”

“Maybe to that big, sun-like thingy,” Ruby replies, pointing behind the fork. About a two hundred metres away from it, there’s a similar basalt structure, this one shaped like the sun. We haven’t noticed it before because it’s partially buried under the sand, but the river recently washed out part of the dune and about half of the sun is underwater now.

“Those who made that may have been insane, but at least they were consistent,” I say. “Ten steps, right?”

“Yes.” Daring Do walks in a rather peculiar fashion. “Ancient steps were an actual unit of length, you know… They’re actually a bit shorter than my actual steps.” She stops and stands in attention. “This should be somewhere around here.”

“Okay,” I say, grabbing a shovel. “Shall I start?”

“Trixie has a better idea.” Trixie turns to Lale Agha, who’s hovering over the fork. “Lale Agha! Tell the janissaries that the Great and Powerful Trixie demands them to dig a hole here.”

Lale Agha nods and flies to the airship.

“I’d ask how deep the hole should be first,” I mutter.

“Galip told him to obey all Trixie’s orders,” Trixie replies. “Of course, Lale is a rotten son of a bitch who’d stab Trixie at a first occasion, but Trixie has respect.”

“You call yelling at everyone and behaving like a gilded piece of shit a respect?” Vinyl asks.

“That’s how it works.” I smile at Vinyl. “They have the mentality of your fans.”

“Then, why are you yelling at us too?” Inkie asks Trixie. “We can always yell at them together…”

I have a very vivid imagination, but I can hardly imagine Inkie yelling at someone while sober. Well, unless they’d say something rude about her family.

“They’d behead you,” Trixie replies. “Trixie is their prince’s lover so they listen to her, but you are considered less than dirt on their claws. You know, they are so full of themselves they can’t realise we’re better than them in every department.”

“Oh really?” I throw the shovel on the ground. “I’ll let them get their claws dirty. Let’s see if that’s true.”

The griffons finally start digging. They dig…

… and dig…

… and dig…

The sun almost sets, and the hole is deep enough for Hot Coco to be hidden there, but we still didn’t find any trace of ancient ruins, powerful energy source that’d fry us all, or even a wise zombie who’d tell us what to do. I’m sorely disappointed.

“Are you sure those were right steps?” I ask Daring Do when it gets dark.

“Must be.” Daring looks at the poem. “Unless Lyra mistranslated something.”

One of the griffons throws the shovel on the ground. “Fuck those ponies,” he says in an oddly-accented but still pretty recognisable Equine. “They’re so full of themselves they can’t see we’re better.”

His companion sighs. “Keep working, or Lale’s gonna–” Well, whatever Lale’s gonna do to him, I don’t understand that. Hexie probably would, but she isn’t here.

“Lale? More lile göt lalesi!”

“Chill out, guys.” Vinyl walks to the griffons and looks into the hole they dug. “No need to offend our ballless friend.” She jumps into the hole. “I’m pretty sure that tomorrow we’ll find some solution to–” She’s suddenly interrupted when the ground collapses under her weight.

“Vinyl, are you okay?” I ask, trotting to the hole she fell into.

“More or less.” It seems that Vinyl’s voice comes from a great depth, older than time itself. “I landed on some rather soft cadaver.”

“A fresh one?” I ask.

“Not really.” Vinyl coughs. “It’s a mummy or some other shit. I got dust everywhere.”

“Wait a minute,” I say. “We’ll get you out soon.”

Well, reality changes my plans quickly. That is, as soon as I reach Daring Do.

“Get her out?” she asks. “No way. We’re joining her. It seems that she accidentally found the place we were looking for!” She jumps and makes a somersault.

“Okay then,” I mutter, grabbing a sniper rifle. Behind Daring Do, Ruby does the same with her BB gun.

“Why do you need this?” Inkie asks. “I think everything in there is dead.”

“Better safe than sorry,” I reply, grabbing some additional bullets.

Ruby nods. “Yeah, what if someone gets crushed under a falling rock? We need to have something to put them out of misery…”

“Ruby, shut up.” I sigh. “Also, remember what the poem says. ‘When you find her, better run’. I’d rather shoot her in the knee first so she doesn’t follow me.”

“Yeah, but who’s she?” Inkie asks, hiding the spell launcher in her saddlebags.

“No idea. I guess we’ll know when we meet her.”

“Trixie guesses she won’t be that bad.” Trixie shrugs. “Lale Agha! Stay here with the guards and wait for the return of the Great and Powerful Trixie!”

Well, I’m not sure how powerful Trixie is, but she’s greater than I thought. Like, it takes us a while before we manage to push her through the hatch. I guess they built it with a Haygyptian peasant in mind rather than a unicorn with slow metabolism and a rather negative attitude towards physical activity.

I stop laughing when it’s my turn. Jogging, gym, and excessive masturbation can’t really combat the fact that I still like cheap, unhealthy food while having more money for it. As a result, I get through the hole in the ground, but only barely.

The inside of the crypt is cold, dark, and dusty. I light my horn to see Vinyl standing with a sheepish expression next to some crushed mummy. I hope it didn’t manage to curse her.

“So, the party’s complete,” Vinyl mutters, when Daring Do lands next to us. “Where are we going now?”

“To the darkest and deepest tunnel, of course.” Daring Do hands Vinyl her shotgun. “Follow me.”

Easier said than done. Even though we have torches, this place is dark as a yak’s arse, and we keep tripping over debris, some wooden remains, and occasional bones of some hapless schmucks that visited this place before us.

“I wonder what those say,” Inkie mutters, looking at the hieroglyphs covering the walls. “They don’t look nice.”

“Probably something like ‘no smoking’ or ‘trespassers will be stabbed and cooked in boiling oil’,” I reply.

“Why is it always oil?” Ruby asks. “Water would be cheaper and smell better.”

“Because water evaporates faster,” Daring Do says. “Oil is hotter and the burns are more horrifying. Also, smell of burnt oil is the least issue when we also deal with a boiled guy.”

“Cool.” Ruby smirks. “Did they also eat the guy?”

“Not very often.” Daring Do shrugs, looking at the hieroglyphs on the wall. “Given that the oil was usually slightly dirty after the whole procedure…” She pushes one of the hieroglyphs and the wall opens. “There.”

“Eww…” Ruby winces. I’m not sure if that’s a reaction to Daring’s story or some half-rotten corpse which fell from behind the wall. It is still wearing a massive golden chain around its neck.

“Don’t worry, it’s dead.” Daring Do walks past the corpse. Trixie stops next to it and grabs the chain with her magic.

The corpse’s head raises and it looks in Trixie’s eyes. Or rather, it’d look there if it had eyes. Nonetheless, the effect is the same: Trixie freezes in place, the chain hanging in her magic field.

“Trixie, leave the chain,” I mutter. “This guy would probably be really angry if you stole it.”

“Okay.” Trixie releases the chain and runs away from the corpse as fast as possible. Inkie walks around it, trying not to look at it. Probably for the best, because the corpse turns its head away and goes back to being dead.

“Hmm, maybe it’s just some machine?” Vinyl asks. “Like, you pull the chain and it raises its head…” She raises for the golden chain, but the corpse grabs her hoof. “Okay, I get it,” Vinyl mutters, unfazed. “I was just joking, man.”

“I guess not everyone likes cryptic humour,” Ruby says innocently.

I shrug. “I do, of corpse.”

“I don’t really,” Inkie replies, watching the floor before her carefully. “There’s something rotten about it.”

“Don’t be so stiff about it.” Vinyl looks at Trixie. “How do you find our underground sense of humour?”

Trixie almost trips over something. She looks down and levitates some large bone. “Trixie found this humerus.”

Vinyl looks at the bone. “Tibia or not tibia, that’s the question.”

“For Nyarlathotep’s sake, shut up,” Daring Do mutters. “I can’t focus.”

“You need to grow a spine,” I mutter. “Though I guess all this dust here may soon send us into a fit of coffin.”

“Coffin, nice one.” Vinyl chuckles, trotting to a recess in the tunnel. There used to be a coffin in there, but the lid was broken and the mummy from the inside is now lying on the floor. Vinyl looks at it. “Are you my mummy?”

The mummy looks at her and lets out a long hiss, showing us way more teeth than it should have. Vinyl jumps back, levitating her shotgun and firing into the gaping maw in front of her.

A wave of dust and bone chips hits the floor, but the mummy doesn’t seem to be bothered by the hole in the back of the head. It jumps at us, barely missing Vinyl. I’m half-deaf after the shot, but I grab my rifle and fire it point-blank at the mummy.

“Run!” Daring Do yells. The mummy collapses; while the bullet hole isn’t very big, it seems that the exit wound was big enough for the hind leg to fall out of broken pelvis. I don’t have time to take a closer look. I just follow Daring’s order.

Suddenly, Inkie skids to a halt right in front of me. I barely avoid hitting her ass with my head, though our pose after I land on her is still rather amusing. Too bad our only audience is about a hundred of mummies, staring at us with red eyes.

“Oh bother,” Inkie mutters.

“Run for your lives!” I yell, firing at the nearest mummy and running away. We nearly crash into Vinyl, who, somehow, is chased by more mummies. Ruby is sitting on her back, firing at them with her BB gun. I don’t think they even notice.

“Why there’s so many of them?!” I shoot at the nearest mummy who at least has decency to drop dead after the bullet pulverizes its head.

“I believe those are workers who built this place and servants of the pharaoh,” Daring Do replies, flying above mummies.

“Why aren’t they dead?”

Daring Do shrugs in mid-air. “Do I look like I know?”

“They’re getting in Trixie’s mane!” Trixie’s scream is followed by a blinding flash of magic and a rain of charred bones falling on our heads. “This is what you get for touching Trixie’s mane, motherfucker!”

I fire a spell at the nearest mummy. It changes its balls into a cloud of dust, but the mummy doesn’t seem to care. However, it stops for long enough for Vinyl to put a shotgun in its mouth.

“You’re not the brainiest fella, huh?” Vinyl asks and pulls the trigger, causing the mummy’s head to explode in ancient dust and bone chips. “Yeah, you’re not.”

“Vinyl, stop messing around, we’re still surrounded!” Trixie yells, firing a spell at a group of mummies. I aid her with my rifle, trying to make a gap in the crowd. Mummies back off slightly, so we decide to run for it; we dash through them, and get to the nearest door. Before our undead companions realise that we’re gone, Inkie closes it and barricades it with a broken pillar.

Behind them, there’s a corridor with many doors on its sides. I walk to the one next to me, but before I’m able to open it, Daring Do flies to me.

“Don’t do that,” she says. “It happened to me before. We’ll find something scary in there and it’ll chase us across all those doors. I guess all the rooms behind them are connected and we’ll just run into one door to emerge from the other a second later. Or sometimes even before that.”

“How so?” I ask.

“Time paradoxes are the worst.”

“How about this door?” Ruby asks, walking to the fourth door on the left. “They look much older. In fact, it’s not even a door, but a piece of fucking rock.”

“Where?” Inkie asks, looking around curiously.

“Yeah, we all know about your funny-shaped rock,” Vinyl mutters. “And the one your sister didn’t let us touch.”

Something that sounds awfully like an army of pissed mummies bangs at the door we came here through.

“The Great and Powerful Trixie thinks we have to hurry,” Trixie says, looking at it. “We need to choose some door anyway, it may as well be this one.”

“Okay then,” Ruby pushes the door open and looks inside. “Well, shit.”

Inside, there’s a mummy the size of my neighbour Bulk, wrapped in much better bandages than the ones other mummies had. It is wearing a golden crown and a lot of jewellery. Its red eyes look at us curiously, watching us aiming our guns and horns at it.

“Not so fast!” the mummy yells in pretty modern Equine, with a slight hint of Canterlot accent. “Do you, by any chance have a permission to kill mummies in this area, as well as A-567 form with BB/7 attachment? Did you pass the professional undead slayer exam and take classes in bandage-cutting? Not to mention things such as permission to–”

“I think we have a permission to get the fuck out!” Daring Do shouts, turning back and flying into the door on the opposite side of the corridor. She breaks through them. I run after her and dart there…

Well, damn. The room behind the door doesn’t have floor.

I grab Daring Do’s hind legs just before falling into the bottomless pit. Then I levitate Ruby who runs into the room after me. Daring groans when Vinyl runs here and catches my tail to stop herself from falling. When Inkie grabs Vinyl, Daring flaps her wings frantically, yelling curses at us.

“Trixie, no!” I scream, but it’s too late. Trixie doesn’t notice the lack of the floor and rams into us. Daring’s wings bend in an improbable way and we all fall into the pit.

The fall is long. What’s worse, I don’t think it ever ended. We just showed up in some very weird room.

“Okay,” I say, staring at my legs. They’re on the ceiling while the rest of me is floating above the floor. When I move forward, they walk backwards. That’s rather bizarre.

“What’s up?” Vinyl asks. She’s standing on the stairs, upside down. They’re leading upwards, then turn, go around the room, and get back to the place where she’s standing. I’m not sure how that’s possible.

“Trixie guesses you meant ‘where’s up’,” Trixie replies and points left. “Trixie thinks it’s there.”

“From my perspective you’re standing on the wall,” I say. “And your up is my down, though slightly skewed.”

“Where’s the rest?” Vinyl walks up the stairs… or down the stairs. Mostly left.

“Dunno.” I shrug, which is kinda weird since my legs are disconnected from the rest of my body. When I walk to the wall, they’re getting closer, but when I walk away from it, they go right.

“What happened to this place?” Trixie asks.

“See that sand in front of you?”

“Trixie sees no sand in front of her,” Trixie replies. “She sees sand behind her, though.”

“Draw a triangle in it,” I say, tilting my head to see her. Trixie’s hind leg disconnects from her body and draws a triangle. “How is it?” I ask.

“It has three right angles,” Trixie replies. “Trixie thinks that’s impossible.”

“And I drew a digon,” Vinyl mutters. “That’s even more impossible.”

“Don’t worry guys,” I say. “This place just follows spherical geometry… More or less.”

“How reassuring,” Trixie mutters.

“Quite a lot,” I say. “Our planet is also a sphere, but we’re so used to it that we assume it’s flat and that’s why we find non-Euclidean places unna–” I pause, watching a long, pinkish shape crawling to me. It gets even weirder when I realise it’s Ruby. More exactly, Ruby with the rear part of a giant snake.

“Sssssuch a ssssssssmartassssssssss…” Ruby hisses, baring her fangs and showing a pretty long, forked tongue.

“Is it also non-Euclidean?” Vinyl asks.

“No, that’s just regularly fucked-up,” I reply, turning to Ruby. “Would you kindly stop being a snake?”

“Sss… why?”

“Because your mom will kick the crap outta me when she sees you like that.” I’m not sure where to look to stare into her eyes. Everything is slightly skewed to the right.

I try to walk to her, but then I accidentally stumble upon an angle that should be acute. Only when I trip over it, I realise that it was, in fact, obtuse. What’s worse, I fall into the bottomless pit again, though this time it’s on my left rather than below me. It doesn’t make me even remotely happier. I just fall and fall till I get bored. Nothing exciting.

“You’re here at last,” the voice rings in my head, nearly shattering my skull.

“I am?” I ask. “From my perspective, I’m still falling. That’s a shitty feeling, but you can get used to that.”

“I’m sorry. Wait a minute.”

I land softly on the ground in some well-lit room. Next to me, there’s a tall, black alicorn. Like, completely black, mane, eyes, everything. She looks at me curiously and scratches her mane with her hind leg somehow.

“Seriously?” I ask, looking at her.

“What’s wrong?” she asks. “From what I know, you ponies associate such a body shape with authority.”

“Not when you’re black like the inside of Sombra’s arse,” I reply. “Also, hooves are not supposed to bend that way.” I look at my legs, realising that finally they’re where they should be.

“Oh, okay then.” With a flash, the alicorn changes into a coffee-coloured unicorn mare with a cat as her cutie mark. She smiles at me warmly, trying not to show her teeth. “By the way, sorry for your daughter. I simply had to punish her for what she does to cats.”

I notice a cat standing behind her and realise that it’s the same balding son of a bitch Ruby tried to shoot in Maneaus.

“You’d better change her back,” I say. “She makes enough trouble without being a snake. Oh, and by the way, she’s not my daughter, thank Celestia.”

“Are you sure?” the mare asks.

“How can you be sure?” I roll my eyes. “Were you there?”

“I was everywhere,” the mare replies. “I was here before you and all of your kind. I remember times when the tribe that was here before you annihilated themselves. Well, it’s been a while since they stopped worshipping me so I didn’t care, but Elohim were pissed. Those creatures were their finest experiment.”

“Yeah, sure,” I mutter. “I guess you’re very experienced and you know a lot about life, universe, and everything, huh?”

She looks into my eyes, making me shudder at the sight of endless void filled with screams of dread that hides behind them. “Well, if I told you that the whole universe you know is hidden inside of a giant Vinyl Scratch’s asshole, would you believe me?”

“I’d ask where this giant Vinyl Scratch lives,” I reply. “And who is she fucking at the moment.”

“I could never understand why all the creatures base their swears on their reproductive functions,” the mare mutters. “But, after all, you all are kinda similar. You even took the languages of those who were before you and mangled them to fit your underdeveloped articulators.”

“Yeah, sure,” I say. “And my farts cause thunderstorms on the other side of the Earth. Who are you to know that?”

“Oh, I forgot to introduce myself,” the mare says. “That’s kinda hard with so many names I was given. Bast, Ubasti, Bubastis, Ba en Aset, Sekhmet… A whole bunch. I was always fond of Bastet, myself. If I didn’t sit here for eons, you’d probably call me Bridlestet or something like that.”

“Most likely,” I mutter. “Okay, so you introduced yourself, you apparently live here for ages, yet you know a lot of things about me and the world with general, and you keep talking about experimenting with some guy called Elohim. I get it. May I go now?”

“Elohim is not one guy, it’s a whole lot of guys,” Bastet replies, rolling her eyes in a way that is not biologically possible. Like, her eyeballs do a backflip, as if they weren’t attached to her brain. “You call it a hive mind, don’t you? And a rather eccentric one.”

“I always wanted to know that.” I sigh, looking at the walls of the small cell we’re in. “Anyway, I have things to do. Can I go, or you’ll tell me some more cryptic stuff, like ‘the thing you’re looking for is not here’?”

Bastet looks at me unsurely. “Actually, I was going to say just that,” she replies. “Unfortunately, it was taken away from here a long time ago. Too bad. I hoped you’d use it to destroy yourselves. You know, I’d be next.”

“What?” I ask, trying to wrap my head around it.

“Oh, you don’t know.” Bastet chuckles. “We have that funny game. We take one of the primitive species we found on this planet and give them… hmm…” She scratched her mane with her hind leg again, bending it in an absolutely impossible way. “We turn a switch in their brains and make a few tweaks here and there. Then we look how long it takes before they obliterate everything. First it was a kind of monkey its descendants called Proconsul. Took them less than thirty million years of constant evolution before they decided to blow themselves up. We waited a hundred thousand years before everything cleared and then Epona chose the dumbest of all the animals that survived.”

I have a feeling that it was an insult. “What do you mean?”

“A moron which, despite being fast, lets other species catch it. One who eats every shit they can find, no matter how poisonous it is to them. One who dies because it lies down for too long. I present to you…” Bastet points at the wall and an image appears on it.

What the fuck is this thing? It looks vaguely Saddle Arabian, but… hell, this is just wrong. How is that supposed to see with those small eyes? No, this can’t be. Such a thing would die right after being born.

“What is this?” I ask.

“Your ancestor,” Bastet replies. “Epona redirected its evolution towards smaller size, added magic and some useful things. Like being able to throw up.”

“Bless her,” I mutter. “Bless the fuck out of her.”

Bastet looks at me and shakes her head. “When you all die, I’m gonna choose cats.” She pats the cat sitting next to her. “But getting to the point,” she says. “The thing you’re looking for is not here, but I know where it is. Let’s make a deal.”

“My mom warned me about making deals with strange ponies who sit in ancient dungeons,” I reply. “But if I listened to her, I would now sit in the local job centre instead of being here. What’s the deal?”

“I’ll show you two things,” Bastet replies. “One thing you will remember and one thing you don’t remember but you should. If you watch them without losing your mind, I’ll tell you where it is.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” I mutter, once again staring at the creepy creature that’s supposed to be my ancestor. “What if I go insane?”

“Don’t worry.” Bastet smirks, showing a lot of sharp fangs. “I just want to show it to you for entertainment.”

“Says someone who can’t even get the teeth right…”

“Teeth are hard,” Bastet replies. “So, do you agree?”

I shrug. “Well, it’s better than leaving and never knowing. Go on.”

“Okay.” Bastet chuckles. Her laughter echoes in my head as I’m sucked into a multi-coloured vortex of time and space. Or rather, I think it’s the vortex of time and space because I’ve never seen one before. It’s just like, dunno, colourful, blurred images flashing before my eyes. Or some other shit.

Finally, the image sharpens. To my surprise, I realise that I’m in Vinyl’s pub, sitting in a chair by the bar. It doesn’t look as new as I remember it – everything is darker and slightly battered. Empty walls I remember are now covered in flags, sabres, anchors, pictures, and something that looks like Little Cadance’s prop.

The pub is full of ponies. I don’t know any of them, though some of them look familiar, like that old shroom behind the bar that looks kinda like Vinyl’s mother, except with a pair of sunglasses. Most of them are gathered around the armchair in the corner. An old mare sits there, levitating a glass of whisky and saying something.

“And then I was sucked by the vortex of times and space,” the old mare says. “Or rather, I thought it was one, because I’ve never seen one before. Like, dunno, blurred images flashing before my eyes or some other shit.”

I notice one of the mares in the crowd covering her foal’s ears. Another one, a handsome unicorn in her early forties that looks kinda like Ruby looks at her and cracks a rather unpleasant smile.

“And then everything sharpened and I landed in this very moment at this very pub,” the old mare says before pointing right at me. “Exactly there.”

I shudder when everyone looks at me. What the actual fuck? Did I just… Is that mare in the armchair…

“Don’t look at her like that, she currently wonders what the actual fuck is going on,” the old ma– older me says. “Someone give her whisky, she doesn’t know that this is not the worst thing that’s about to happen.”

“Wait, what?” I blurt out. Someone gives me a glass of whisky. I look at them – it’s a young unicorn, though the shape of his pupils tells me that one of his parents is a bat pony. For some reason he’s looking at me curiously.

“What are you looking at?” I ask, downing my whisky. “Your mom was also looking at ponies like that and look in the mirror to see what happened.”

“Forgive me, I was young and dumb,” the old mare says. “Not to mention that she’ll be gone in three seconds.”

Wait, three seconds? What will ha–

Aww, fuck. The vortex of time and space again. I’m starting to hate it.

This time, I land in some small room. The paint is peeling off the poster-covered walls, the bed is covered with clothes and books, empty pizza boxes are everywhere… It smells like something is rotting in here, not to mention that the pony who lives here probably masturbates a lot.

Wait. I realise something that makes me happy that this time I don’t have a corporeal form, but rather I’m kinda a ghost hanging in the air. Namely, it’s my old room, back when I was a student in Canterlot. Which means that–

I hear the clicking of the lock, followed by a few swears. Finally, the door is kicked open and my younger self walks in.

Oh, fuck me with a shovel. Did I really used so much eyeliner back then? And that mane is ridiculous, not to mention piercings. And, on the top of that, I’m wearing a t-shirt saying, “Fuck Hearts, I Prefer My Hooves”. Classy as fuck.

Wait, Hearts and Hooves Day? Oh hell.

As I ponder my fate, my younger self simply levitates half of the things off the bed and dumps them on the floor. “Gnarly,” she says. “You can walk in!”

If I weren’t a ghost, I’d choke. I completely forgot that Berry used to have a buzz cut and a strange fondness for leather clothes. No wonder everyone thought we were a pair of lesbians.

At first I almost don’t notice Derpy. She’s hiding in Berry’s shadow, not to mention that a baggy sweater she’s wearing makes her look like an oversized, cross-eyed sheep.

“So, that’s your place?” Derpy asks. “That’s, like, bombdigity.”

“Damn skippy!” younger me replies. “Nice to see you, Derpy. Like, I haven’t seen you in, like, a dick year.”

“Very,” Berry mutters, dropping on my bed. “‘Sup, M?”

“Tubular.” Younger me shrugs. “We had, like, a lesson about growing dicks.”

“Do you have to, like, water them?” Derpy asks. Berry and younger me look at her and sigh. Well, we always considered her a bit of a space cadet, back then. Especially when we smoked a chonger.

“I mean, like, with magic,” younger me replies. “But it, like, can’t be done. Like, only highest-level unicorns can give you a magical sex change. Twilight and Moondancer nearly totally shat themselves, but none of them grew, like, anything.”

“Radical,” Berry mutters. “So, what are we gonna do? Like, do we stay here, or get out and hit on guys?”

“Fuck guys, I got a pretty mondo jam here.” Younger me turns on a gramophone, filling the room with some old, synths-heavy music. Or rather, it’s old now. Back then, it was all the rage.

“I’d prefer some bitchin’ rap, myself,” Derpy says. I try to imagine her saying that now, twelve years and one kid later, but I simply can’t.

“We don’t care about your taste in music,” Berry mutters. “Or, like, in anything else.”

“Bite me,” Derpy replies. “Got a dobbie?”

“Got something totally better.” Berry produces a bottle of something probably illegal. There’s a picture of a cat on the label and it looks awfully like Bastet’s cutie mark. Some haygyptian moonshine? No wonder I don’t remember anything from that night. All that I know is that Derpy came to us from Vanhoover, then there was the morning when I woke up with my head in the toilet. Oh, and some time later it turned out that both Berry and Derpy got pregnant on that night.

Wait… So we did go out to meet some colts? I wonder if I get to see this wanker who impregnated them both, leaving me high and dry. The guy owes us, like, eleven years worth of child support. Not to mention aggravated damages for having to deal with the monstrosity called Ruby Pinch.

Meanwhile, Berry finally opens the bottle and takes a long swig. “That’s some groovy shit,” she mutters, nearly choking.

“Hey, stop putting your spit in it!” younger me exclaims, levitating the bottle out of her hooves and drinking from it. “Whoa, dude... “ She coughs. “That’s deadly.”

“May I?” Derpy grabs a bottle.

For a while they’re drinking and talking about random shit. Huh, now I know how my older self felt seeing me. They’re sitting here, not knowing how soon their life will reach the whole new level of fucked up. If I were to actually show up there, would I intervene or just fuck with them?

Hmm, maybe that’s why I’m invisible now – Bastet probably thought that I would actually intervene, causing a temporal paradox in which Ruby and Dinky would never be born, Derpy would become a drug addict, Berry would eventually end up in jail for beating someone important and I’d be even more irresponsible than I’m now. For starters, I’d probably agree to go to Neighpon with a completely unknown junkie who was going to play a few gigs there.

Well, I sometimes wonder if Vinyl would still become big in Neighpon if I went with her.

“Aww, hell,” my younger self says, slurring slightly. “Where did you get that, Berry?”

Berry hiccups. “Like, I bought it from, like, some old lady in the street… She was totally crazy, y’know.” She drops on my bed unceremoniously. “Like, she had a lot of cats.”

“Keep digging, Watson!” Derpy exclaims. As I said, she used to be a total airhead when she was younger. Especially with alcohol on board.

Suddenly, my younger self looks directly at the place where I’d be if I was visible to them. “Holy shit, dude... “ she mutters. “I’m butt-ugly…”

Well, fuck you too, you little, spotty piece of worthless trash of the society. If I didn’t know you, I’d never say that you grew up to be me.

“What did you say?” Berry asks.

Younger me stands up, staring at some point on the wall. Damn, I was always a lightweight. “I feel like… like I can do everything.”

Damn. Did I jump out of the window thinking that I could fly? There’s a thick layer of snow outside, so maybe that’s how I survived.

“Like… I can do magic and shit…”

“You don’t fucking say!” I exclaim. She flinches, even though I’m pretty sure she didn’t hear me. Then her horn lights up, engulfing her in bright halo. Berry and Derpy look at her, their jaws dropping. Berry looks at the half-empty bottle unsurely and puts it on my nightstand.

The halo dies down. Younger me looks at herself and smiles widely. “Wooohooo!” she exclaims. “I fucking did it! I’m a fucking top-level unicorn and Twilight can lick my cunt!”

“You mean, suck your dick,” Berry mutters. “Technically that’s what you have now.”

“Yeah and it’s huuuuge…” Derpy chuckles.

“Yeah, that’s what we’ll do,” my younger self says, touching her muzzle, and yanking a short goatee. Then she stares between her legs and chuckles. “We’ll find Twilight Sparkle and I’ll ask her to suck my dick. It can also be Moondancer for all I care.”

Damn. And I thought Derpy was dumb when she was young.

“Why waste it on them?” Berry asks. She stands up and wraps her hoof around my younger self’s neck. “There are so many better uses for it we can find together…”

Oh shit. Don’t do that! Really, don’t. Impregnation danger! Don’t you realise that it’s Hearts and Hooves Day, you just drank some magical shit and you’re all in heat? Hello! Equestria to the biggest bunch of losers in Canterlot!

“I think you’ve seen enough,” Bastet whispers into my ear. The image of my younger self making out with Berry blurs slightly.

“You’re not gonna torment me with what I see?” I ask.

“You’re gonna torment yourself with what you didn’t see.” Bastet chuckles. “That’s much funnier. Also, it’ll last only a few seconds.”

“Fuck you.”

“I should try that one day,” Bastet replies. The blur of time and space sucks me in. Her laughter is still echoing in my head…

“She’s here!” Vinyl yells. “She’s kinda unconscious. Do you think I should give her a CPR?”

“Just try and you’ll need dentures,” I mutter, opening my eyes. It seems that I’m lying on the floor in some corridor of the ancient grave we discovered.

“Just great,” Daring Do says, rolling her eyes. “You all are getting lost and we’re still as far from finding out where the crystal is.”

“We wouldn’t get lost if you didn’t drop us,” Trixie mutters. “Trixie could’ve gotten eaten by mummies.”

“They’d get a stroke,” Vinyl deadpans. Trixie gives her a death glare.

“We still didn’t find the crystal.” Daring Do smacks both of them with her wings. “Let’s find it first and then you can even kill and eat each other for all I care.”

“The crystal is not here,” I say. Strange. It’s like suddenly I always knew that. It seems that at least Bastet didn’t alter the deal.

“Then where is it?” Inkie asks.

“In an ancient city among the mountains of the South Pole,” I reply. “Where Elder Things used to roam freely under the pale sun.”

“What?” Daring Do asks. “How do you know that?”

“That “she” from the poem told me,” I reply. “I met her. She’s an old cat lady who occasionally gives other ponies shady alcohol. Then she laughs at crazy shit you did when drunk.” I turn to Ruby. At least she’s not a snake this time, though it still doesn’t make things easier. But, after all, honesty is the best option, right? Let’s do it quickly.

“Ruby, I’m your father,” I say.

Ruby looks at me, raising her eyebrows. For a while, she’s looking at me curiously, as if she saw me for the first time. Well, damn. I’m screwed. I lost that little bit of trust she had in me. Not to mention that when Berry finds out, I’m dead.

Finally, after a painfully long while, Ruby opens her mouth while I try to shrink and hide between the tiles on the floor.“No shit, auntie,” she says with a chuckle.

Vinyl can’t stand it anymore. She explodes in a fit of snorting laughter, rolling on the ground. The rest follows her. Hell, even Inkie smiles a little bit.

“Can we get her out of here, like, quickly?” Ruby asks when they silence a bt. “Before it turns out that my daddy’s brain damage is permanent...”

Author's Note

Göt lalesi - "asshole" (literally "ass tulip". Turkish is weird like that.)

Behind the scenes: Bootsy says that Vinyl's method of curbing someone's ego is still better than dressing as a superhero to humiliate them. Guess which episode he wrote a fixfic for.

I’ve been turned into stone once and it’s not pleasant. Especially if you were about to pee and then you’re stuck with a full bladder for a week.

I’ve been turned into stone once and it’s not pleasant. Especially if you were about to pee and then you’re stuck with a full bladder for a week.

“So, if what you say is true, we’re quarter of the planet away from there,” Daring Do says, looking at me as if I was indeed brain-damaged. “We’d better get going, then.” She walks down the corridor.

“Wait.” Inkie stands up and looks at the ancient tomb’s ceiling. “How do you know how to get back to the entrance? We’ve been chased by mummies and ended up in the room with that weird geometry-thingy.”

“Spatial intelligence of a pegasus,” Daring Do replies. “Do you know that before pegasi learned to control the weather on a large scale, large flocks of them flown to Zebrica before every winter? They had to navigate somehow.”

“Yeah, but we’re underground,” Inkie mutters.

“Oh, come on.” Ruby rolls her eyes. I can’t help but notice that she doesn’t exactly do that in the way Berry does it. In fact, she’s more similar to me in that matter. “I can feel the way with my snake senses. She’s right.”

“Wait… You’re not a snake…” Vinyl looks at Ruby unsurely, as if she was looking for some snake parts of her.

“But I was for a moment,” Ruby replies and turns to Inkie. “Also, those stones here don’t tell you the way?”

“No,” Inkie replies, patting the nearby wall and listening to the sound it made. “But they do tell the history of this place.” She scratches the surface and licks her hoof. “Somepony leaned against it just before being taken from here and mummified. But that was a long time ago.”

“So we should really go,” I say. “Unless you want to be mummified too and left here to fight the next guys who discover this place.”

“That’d be pretty cool.” Vinyl chuckles. “With the tricks we know, no one would get here. Though I must say that mummifying Trixie would take a while.”

“The Great and Powerful Trixie shall mummify your ass if you don’t shut up,” Trixie deadpans, trotting after Daring Do. We go with them, hoping that Daring really can find the way across those corridors. I don’t feel well here, especially after I learned that I impregnated my two friends. I don’t even have anyone with similar experiences to talk to.

“When Trixie gets out of here, she’ll tell her griffons to make a glorious supper.” Trixie says. “That is, before we get to the South Pole.”

“It may be a breakfast by then,” I say.

“Hey, what if we actually spent a thousand years down there?” Ruby asks. “When we get out, we’ll find out that all our relatives died in a magical war and the planet is now ruled by a group of intelligent pandas living in crystal spires and wearing togas?”

“No shit, kid,” Vinyl says. “Have you ever seen an intelligent panda? They can’t even fuck.”

“When the Great and Powerful Trixie becomes the griffon princess, she’ll build a crystal spire.” Trixie raises her head proudly. “And you will look at it and despair.”

“It seems that the griffons fucked their great and powerful princess over,” Daring Do mutters, pointing at the ceiling. There’s the opening we walked here through there, but now there’s an enormous boulder lying on it, sealing it completely. I guess we’re trapped.

“What the–” Trixie’s eyes light up. “HOW DID THEY DARE TO TRAP THE GREAT AND POWERFUL TRIXIE?”

“You’d better move a bit,” I mutter to Daring Do. “Last time it happened she nearly tore the rock farm apart.”

“Yeah, and it was my rock farm,” Inkie whispers, running away from Trixie.

Waves of arcane energy flow around Trixie, charging her horn. Finally, she unleashes a monstrous, blinding spell that flows through the air and hits the rock.

A few grains of sand fall on our heads. The rock is still there.

“Fuck!” Trixie yells, foaming at the mouth and stomping her hoof against the floor, cracking it. “How did those fucking curs dare to fucking bring that fucking piece of fucking rock and trap their Great and Fucking Powerful Mistress in this fucking dun–” She’s rather rudely interrupted by Inkie who punches her in the back of the head, knocking her out cold.

“I’m sorry.” Inkie blushes. “I just couldn’t listen to her.”

“Yeah, she was repeating herself too friggin’ much,” Ruby mutters.

I point at the rock. “This doesn’t change the fact that the rock is still there. And if the spell didn’t bring it down, I don’t know what can.”

“You can teleport out of here,” Vinyl says. “Then you’d bring us all with you.”

“You’re right.” I focus my magic, imagining the desert outside. Then I disappear in the vortex of time and space. It feels kinda like being pushed through a narrow pipe, but you can get used to that.

I open my eyes. Unfortunately, this time the pipe is bent and I appear exactly in the place I was before. What the hell? Is this tomb magical? Well, considering all the things that happened to us here, it probably is.

“Okay,” I mutter. “Any other ideas?”

“If I could go up there, maybe I’d be able to crush it,” Inkie says. “It may be magic-proof, but no rock is Pie-proof.”

“I’m afraid you’re too heavy for levitation,” Vinyl replies. “Well, not as heavy as Trixie, but still…”

“The Great and Concussed Trixie heard that remark,” Trixie mutters from the ground.

“Vinyl doesn’t give a fuck about what Trixie hears,” Vinyl replies. A moment later, a magic blast burns off some fur from her hoof. “Okay, I’ll start now.”

“Maybe I could lift you,” Daring Do looks at Inkie. “In fact, why don’t we try. It’s better than sitting here and waiting for the Pale Horse to come.”

“Meanwhile we can tell ghost stories,” Vinyl says, watching as Daring Do grabs Inkie. “Like, Pale Horse. As you know, it’s a pale pony skeleton who has a scythe as his cutie mark–”

“How can he have a cutie mark when he’s a skeleton?” Ruby asks. Behind her, Daring Do takes off, sweating and panting. Inkie looks at the ground unsurely, holding her with all her might. Hmm, maybe even a bit too tight.

“That’s what’s weird about him,” Vinyl says. “He has a cutie mark despite being a skeleton. He’s on the road all the time, sweeping the souls of dead ponies…”

“Mom says dead ponies go across the river in a boat rowed by a silent seapony,” Ruby mutters.

“But someone has to bring them to that river, right?” Vinyl rolls her eyes.

THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT I DO.

“Yeah, thanks for support, mate,” Vinyl turns to whoever said that. I didn’t exactly pay attention, watching Inkie and Daring Do. They’re currently just below the ceiling and Inkie is examining the rock, patting it with her hoof.

“Okay,” Inkie says and gives the rock a powerful kick.

Well, she does manage to break some shards of the rock off. Unfortunately, as we all remember from physics, the Neighton’s third law of motion says that to every action there is always an equal reaction. Given the difference in mass between the rock and Inkie, it means that Daring and Inkie are pushed backwards, at the nearby wall.

“My spine!” Daring shouts when they hit the wall. Then they slide down, dropping on the ground in a rather unfabulous manner.

“Few more kicks and I’ll crush it,” Inkie says, standing up and cleaning dust off her coat.

“The rock or my spine?” Daring Do moans.

“If you brake with your wings, it won’t throw us back that much,” Inkie replies.

“Yeah, I’ll break my wings instead.” Daring Do stands up slowly and straightens her wings. “They’re not as good as they used to be. They don’t stand a chance against you. You could probably push a train engine with that kick.”

“Why?” Inkie asks. “A train engine once got broken near our farm. I lifted it and put it next to the tracks so another train would pass.”

Daring Do raises her eyebrows and nods in silence, apparently struck by this image. She doesn’t even protest when Inkie walks to her. They just take off and fly to the rock again.

“Ten bits that Inkie will break her spine now,” Vinyl says.

“Wing,” I reply. “Both of them.”

“Tailbone,” Ruby mutters. Trixie groans something that sounds like “cunt” to me, but I’m not sure if she’s betting or just still pissed.

This time, Inkie punches the rock even stronger, causing a large piece of it to fall and smash on the floor not far away from us. A shard of rock flies next to my face and hits the wall.

“Daring, you okay there?” I ask, trying to see anything through the clouds of dust.

“Me cago en tu puta madre!” Daring Do yells. “I broke my coño!”

Well, that’s not a word I’m familiar with. “You broke what?”

“Cunt,” Ruby says. “Diamante taught me that word.”

“I’ll have to have a talk with Inmundo Rico once I get to Mexicolt again,” I say.

“Of course, daddy.” Ruby rolls her eyes.

“Hey, it means that Trixie won!” Vinyl exclaims. “Trixie, once we get out of here, I’m gonna give you ten bits!”

“Shove them up your ass and fart them out,” Trixie mutters, still not getting up from the ground.

“Does anyone care about the fact that Inkie used my privates as a springboard?” Daring Do asks, moaning in pain. When dust falls, I see her lying on her side while Inkie stands nearby, giving her a worried look.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” Inkie whispers, hiding her face behind her mane.

“Not helpful,” Daring Do whispers. “And now I can’t fly.”

“We’ll wait,” I say, looking at the rock. “It won’t last much more. One or two kicks and it’ll be gone. The mummies didn’t show up yet, so I guess we have time before we start getting hungry or thirsty.”

Suddenly, I hear a monstrous hiss coming from the depths of the dungeon. It chills me to the bone and I have a feeling that it’s getting closer.

“Did anyone mention mummies?” Ruby stands up and grabs her BB gun.

“Okay, Daring, you’d better get up faster,” Vinyl mutters. “That, or we’d better all try to levitate Inkie.”

Since Daring Do shows us her middle feather, we all get up to try the levitation thing. Turns out, it’s not that hard; Trixie and I can do that even without the help of Ruby and Vinyl, but the real problem starts when Inkie tries to kick the rock. I immediately feel strain in my horn when my magic has to deal with the reaction. Trixie has it even worse – she screams and cancels her magic, grabbing her temples.

“Aargh!” Inkie screams, hanging upside-down, with my magic holding her hind leg. It takes a while before Vinyl and Ruby rush to help me support her.

“You shouldn’t have hit Trixie,” Trixie mutters, rubbing her head. “Trixie can’t magic now.”

“Fuck,” Ruby mutters, sweating heavily while trying to focus her magic on Inkie and levitate her higher. “This is harder than I thought…”

Before anyone can reply, we suddenly hear a loud thump, as if someone hit a rock with their hoof. I look at Inkie, but there’s no way it was her. She’s far too low.

Another hit and the rock falls apart, debris smashing against the floor below right after we levitate Inkie out of the way. Did the griffons come back or what?

Our questions are answered when first rays of the sun fall into the dungeon. Soon, they’re obscured by a pony’s head.

“Hello, guys,” Hexie says. “You can be heard a mile away with your yelling!”

“Get us out of here!” I shout. “Hungry undead mummies are coming to get us!”

“Interestingly, that’s not the weirdest thing I’ve heard today,” Hexie mutters, retreating from the opening. Soon, she throws a rope to us.

Maybe you’d like to hear a bloodcurdling story about how we’ve barely gotten out, chased by the mummies which started to climb behind us. No chance. We just got out before any of them showed up. In the meantime it turned out that Daring Do still can fly. That cheating bastard.

Finally, we are all out. Hexie closes the opening in the ground with a stone tablet—all that’s left from the rock—and we get out of the hole the griffons had dug. As soon as I’m on the surface, I’m welcomed by an unusual sight – Lale Agha is lying next to the plane, his clothes torn and his beak and wings tied with duct tape.

“What the hell?” I ask.

Hexie chuckles. “Long story… Generally, I spent two weeks repairing the plane–”

“Two weeks?” I ask. “We haven’t been down there for longer than a day…”

“Time flows differently in magical places,” Daring Do says. “I’m pretty sure I lost at least a year from my life in an ancient tomb next to Gelding Grotto…”

“I guess ponies lose not only time there,” Vinyl deadpans.

“Anyway,” Hexie says. “I finally put the plane together and went to find you. I’m like, flying south, enjoying the sun and loneliness… Because you know, Lyra took a ship to Neightaly or somewhere with Bon Bon... “ She clears her throat. “So, you know, a glass of whisky, a cigarette…”

“No smoking in the cockpit,” I mutter. “How many times I have to tell you about that?”

“Sorry, boss…” Hexie smiles sheepishly. “So yeah, I’m flying, enjoying myself and suddenly I see this Trixie’s Flying Brothel heading up north. So I, like, turn on the radio to say those guys ‘hello’ and ask if you’re aboard.” She nods and points at Lale Agha. “There was no reply, but ten tutaj skurwiel, cipa, obezjajec... I mean, this here gentlecolt tried to shoot me with the biggest fucking blunderbuss I’ve ever seen in my life.” She points at the circular hole in the middle of the windshield. “And I just repaired those windows, you know, so I was righteously pissed.”

“So, what did you do?” Trixie asks, her face pale.

“As you know, I’m learning from my experiences,” Hexie says. “Our little adventure in Zebrica taught me that it’s better to have a proper answer ready.” She walks to the plane. Through the windshield I can see how she enters the cockpit and reaches to the ceiling, lowering old-fashioned iron sights – just a set of concentric rings with a cross in the middle. Simultaneously, two small hatches in the nose of the plane open, revealing the barrels of two guns. I look closer at them. Damn. At least two centimetres in diameter. Not bad.

“Where did you get those?” I ask when Hexie gets out of the plane.

“In the bazaar, of course.” Hexie shrugs. “Second gun for half a price and they gave me a good discount on two ammo drums. Though I have only a half of each now, after I issued a five seconds-long warning burst.”

“You shot a half of each magazine to shoot in the air?” Vinyl exclaims.

“I never said it was the air.” Hexie asks. “I issued a warning shot in their balloon. After they made an emergency landing, I contacted them on the radio and asked them to explain the whole situation.” She walks to Lale Agha and kicks him. “All they gave me was this wanker.”

“Well…” I say. “You know it’s gonna be hard for us to get across any border now? I get shotgun and my rifle, but those cannons…”

“Bramini na wojnie, tylko spokojnie. That’s why they can be hidden,” Hexie replies. “Though getting the ammo may be difficult.” She shrugs. “Anyway, you’d better listen to what this dude has to say.” She walks to Lale Agha and rips the tape off his beak. “Te, bezjajcew! Gadaj cożeś odjebał, albo tak ci piznę, że w powietrzu z głodu umrzesz.”

I’m not sure if Lale Agha understood her words, but he definitely understood the intention, especially since it was supported by a smack to the ear. He clears his throat and shudders before speaking.

“Well, before leaving with you, I got instructions from Sehzade Galip.” He looks at Trixie, but quickly turns his gaze away. “Sehzade thinks getting into a relationship with someone his parents don’t approve wouldn’t be wise, especially since, to quote his words, Sultan is an old prick who’d garrote him for farting in the wrong direction.” He points at Trixie. “So, as you may imagine, she had to go.”

“So, that’s why you left us in this dungeon to starve?” I ask. “Couldn’t you, you know, just ask?”

“I can admit that I may have gotten a little bit carried away…” Lale Agha smiles sheepishly.

Hexie looks at the griffon and sighs. “Mam mu sprzedać gonga w ryj?” Seeing our expressions, she chuckles and says, “Should I sell him a gong to the snout?”

“That’s how it’s called in Ponyland?” Vinyl asks.

“Well, there’s a variety of–”

“Wait.” By Trixie’s calm and collected tone I can tell that someone is about to be murdered. “Are you trying to tell Trixie that this…” She shudders suddenly. “THAT THIS WANKER TRIED TO KILL TRIXIE?!” She fires a blast of magic at the sand in front of Lale Agha, hot enough to change it into glass. She fires another one, but Inkie tackles her, redirecting her horn in such a way that the bolt hits the river, causing steam to rise, along with some dead fish.

“Let Trixie go!” Trixie yells. “Trixie’s gonna buy her own country, train an army, and invade the Trottoman Empire just to lock this bloody prince in a crate and throw him in the river!”

“Hold her,” Daring Do mutters, backpedalling from Trixie, who’s foaming at her mouth, trying to bite Inkie. Someone knows where can I get rabies treatment here? I don’t wanna lose my second pilot.

“Release Trixie!” Trixie yells. “Trixie’s gonna–” Inkie puts her hoof over her mouth, which doesn’t mean that she stops talking. It’s just muffled.

“He already doesn’t have them.” Vinyl walks to Lale Agha and rips the tape off his wings. “We got this, dude,” she says and points at the north. “Trottoman Empire is somewhere there, but you can’t get away with nothing. You have ten seconds before we release Trixie.”

Lale Agha takes off, flapping his wings as quickly as possible. Unfortunately for him, his flying abilities are less than stellar. Maybe it’s a lack of some organs, or maybe the fact that the dude is rather pudgy. Anyway, once Trixie is released, she lets out a powerful roar and charges, firing a spell into the air. It blinds us all for a moment, but I can hear something hitting the ground.

When I open my eyes, I see a figure of a frog, made of jadeite, lying on the dune not far away from us. I levitate it and carry back to us.

“Wow.” Ruby smirks. “What a ribbiting spell.” She looks at the figurine. “The guy was always a bit jaded. Or so I’ve been toad.”

“Ruby, please…” I turn to Trixie. “What the hell did you do?”

“Trixie couldn’t decide whether to turn him into a frog or into stone,” Trixie replies. “This didn’t exactly go as planned.”

“I see. What are we supposed to do with him now?” I ask. “Put him on the dashboard as an ornament?”

“That’d be kinda unethical.” Daring Do looks at the frog. “I mean, I’ve been turned into stone once and it’s not pleasant. Especially if you were about to pee and then you’re stuck with a full bladder for a week.”

“Ask Celestia about Discord,” Vinyl says. “Also, that’s weird. When I get that stoned, I usually wake up covered in–”

“We don’t want to know that detail, thank you.” Inkie shudders. I say nothing, since it’s kinda relevant to my interest. Don’t ask.

“Anyway.” Daring Do turns to the jade frog. “Never pee in abandoned temples, since they may not be as abandoned as you think. Let’s leave it at that. The thing is, what are we gonna do with that guy?”

“Throw him into the river,” Hexie replies. “In a thousand years someone will find him and he’ll tell them stories about our times.”

“Well, if a princess kisses him, he’ll get back to the griffon form,” Trixie says.

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, it’s a good thing we travel with a whole motherfucking harem of princesses. On a side note, I think Princess Flurry Heart is gonna be two soon. We can always mail him to her. Kids this age usually put stuff in their mouths.”

“How about the princess of music?” Vinyl asks.

“No, Rara is not here either,” Ruby mutters.

“Nah, she was just the countess,” Vinyl replies. “Guess who made her beats back when she used them.” She levitates the frog and kisses it. A magic blast throws us back, leaving a very confused Lale Agha sitting in the middle of our circle.

“See?” Vinyl chuckles. “I’m a princess, bitches! Where are my wings?”

“There are small ones in your ass,” I reply. “That’s why the shit you do reaches stratosphere.”

“You’re just jealous.” Vinyl smirks, showing off all her teeth. “Also, I played bass guitar on Rara’s new album so that makes me even more awesome.”

“Excuse me,” Lale Agha mutters. “Can I go?”

“Go to hell,” Ruby replies. “Or to the Trottoman Empire, whichever you prefer.”

Lale Agha takes off with only a bit more finesse than before. “Siktir git, sürtükler,” he says before disappearing slowly over the river.

“What did he say?” I ask.

“That we have healthy needs and that we should partake in sexual activities together,” Hexie replies. “I happen to know this part of the phrasebook pretty well.”

“I, for one, agree.” Vinyl stands up and points at the sky. “Especially since it’s getting darker and nights in the desert are cold.” She chuckles, looking at us. “So, who’s into sexual activities with me?”

“I’m straight,” I say.

“Same.” Hexie looks at Vinyl and shudders. “Also, I’m scared of germs.”

“I’m married.” Inkie blushes.

“Trixie suffers from a heartbreak.”

“Meh.” Daring Do shrugs, looking away from Vinyl.

“Seven more years,” Ruby mutters. “Also, I have my sleeping bag.”

“We didn’t really want to know what you do with it.” I shudder at the memory. “Also, of all the pleasure of this world, I’d rather eat something.”

“True.” Daring Do gets up. “Too bad we have nothing to make fire.”

“We have those empty crates in the plane,” Hexie says. “And I brought food from the town. Just set the camp up and we’ll be good.”

“I’ll help you carry it,” I say. I still don’t feel well after our visit in the ancient tomb and a conversation with Bastet and I could use a moment of loneliness after that.

Well, almost loneliness. On our way to the plane, Hexie just doesn’t shut up.

“So, I went to this house on the other side of the street to say goodbye to Daring’s ex, but I found out that he left soon after you did. I hope he didn’t try to catch you by hoof, but guessing from the speed of Trixie’s airship, he had a chance.”

“He’s not Daring’s ex. And I guess he just went to get his friends,” I reply, kicking the sand. It’s getting colder quickly so I can only think of blankets and sweaters on the plane. “Wonder what kind of plan they’re making now.”

“Oh, come on, there was something between them, I’m sure.” Hexie shrugs and opens the door of the plane. It smells just like when we left it. Some of the crates with our stuff are indeed empty, so we break them down for wood. You can only imagine how fun breaking something is, after all those adventures.

“I’d be more worried about our other friends,” Hexie says, watching my attempts to destroy a particularly hard crate with a hammer. “I thought that they didn’t survive this rozpierdol in Zebrica, but then I found that pale winged moron stuck in the bathroom window.”

The hammer nearly slips from my magic. “Kyrie? What did you do to her?”

“Pulled her out and walked her to the kitchen,” Hexie replies, kicking a crate and sending it flying at the wall. “Poor little shit, was completely covered in bruises, bandages, and band-aids. So I gave her some medicine…” She moves one of the crates to the side, revealing a distillation equipment hidden behind it. Judging by the ringing sound the crate made, the product of Hexie’s experiments is inside.

“You’re making moonshine on the plane?” I slap myself in the forehead. “What do you even make it from?”

“Various things,” Hexie replies. “Anyway, after two glasses she started singing Es zittern die morschen Knochen so I pushed her out of the house through the door. Unfortunately it wasn’t Germaney where they’d arrest her for singing it, or Saddle Arabia where they’d arrest her for being drunk, so she was just wandering around the street for a while, started a fight with a chicken, took off, hit the lamppost, and landed on the pavement in her vomit.”

“Huh.” I chuckle at that scene. “Even Inkie has more grace when she’s drunk. She just throws up on you and apologises a lot.”

“Yeah.” Hexie grabs a hooffull of boards. “I thought she may…” She makes a choking sound and points at her throat.

“Suffocate,” I say.

“Yeah, that.” Hexie rolls her eyes. “I grabbed her and shoved her head into a barrel of water once or twice. After she sobered up a bit, I set her free. I guess Aryanne wasn’t happy to see her.”

“She probably wasn’t.” I shrug and levitate the boards. Hexie smirks and grabs two bottles of moonshine.

When we get back to the camp, two tents are already set up. With our help, soon we have a proper camp by the river, complete with the fire in the middle of it and the pot full of vegetable and oats stew hanging over it. Hexie tells the story of her encounter with Kyrie – even Daring Do smirks at it.

“No, thanks, I’ll pass,” I say when Vinyl offers me moonshine. I already feel slightly dehydrated, not to mention that I probably caught something in Zebrica – either rainbow concentrate poisoning or some other tropical shit. I threw up in the morning once or twice.

Vinyl shrugs. “There’ll be more for me.”

Soon, it turns out that even the stew can’t slow down the effects of Hexie’s moonshine. After a few hours, Trixie is lying on the ground, snoring loudly, Daring stares into the fire with a solemn expression, while Vinyl tries to convince Inkie to cheat on Coco with her.

“Oh come, on, no one will know… Ewww!” Vinyl backs off when Inkie throws up on her. Guess it’s so much for affairs.

“Trzech synów matka miała...” Hexie sings in a slurred tone, ending with a burp. “Dwóch słynęło z mądrości…” She scratches her mane, apparently trying to recall the lyrics, but nothing comes to her mind. She eventually solves her problem by taking a sip from the bottle.

Ruby trots to me and sits by my side, staring at our friends on their way to self-destruction. “Hello, daddy,” she says.

“Shut up,” I reply, rolling my eyes. “Believe me or not, I am your father.”

“That’s impossible.” Ruby furrows her eyebrows. “I happen to know how babies are made. Currently, I’m passing that knowledge to Button. In small portions so he doesn’t run away.”

“Watch out,” I say. “I don’t wanna become a granny just yet. Stay with the sleeping bag, it won’t impregnate you.”

“Button won’t either,” Ruby replies. “I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have enough blood to get that up without passing out.”

“I’d rather not imagine that, thank you.”

“Anyway, I wanted to ask how do you know you’re my father,” Ruby says. “Like, did you make tests or what?”

I tell her about the visions Bastet showed me. Ruby listens to it, nodding from time to time. After I’m done, she sits in silence for a moment.

“Okay…” she finally says . “So, the craziest cat lady of all the cat ladies told you that you magicked yourself a dick and fucked my mom with it and you believed her?”

“She didn’t tell me that,” I reply. “She showed it to me. Also, Dinky is your sister after all.”

“Fuck. I don’t know what’s worse. That or you believing some old shits who sit in the dungeon.” Ruby shrugs. “I think I’m gonna go to sleep before I start overthinking it.”

“Yeah, same,” I mutter, walking to the tent. Soon, I fall asleep, dreaming of cats showing me my life in the cinema. It’s a rather boring movie, unless someone enjoys countless masturbation scenes. I fall asleep halfway through – is it even possible to dream within a dream?

I don’t get the answer. Before I’m able to find it out, I’m woken up rather brutally – with a bucket of water to the face. Immediately, I charge my horn, ready to fry the motherfucker who did it.

“Don’t shoot!” Hexie yells. Her mane is a mess, but aside from that, she completely doesn’t look like she spent a night drinking. “We have to get outta here. Like, now.”

“What the hell?” I ask, blinking. The sun is blinding; somehow the light pierces through the fabric of my tent. “Mummies attacked?”

“Worse.” Hexie’s eye twitches in a way indicating that she ran out of vocabulary. “Die Huren, kurwy niemyte, stulejarze, lecą nam wpierdolić, we’re fucked, hosanna.”

“Slower and in one language, please,” I say. “Preferably one I know.”

Hexie rolls her eyes. “See for yourself.”

I walk out of the tent. “Well, shit.”

“‘Shit’ just doesn’t cut it,” Hexie says. “You need something with a rolling ‘r’. Prench or Ponish works best in that matter since–”

“Shut up and wake everyone up!” I exclaim. “They’re gonna catch us and fucking kill us!”

“That’s what I said.” Hexie shrugs, grabs the bucket and runs to the river.

I look at the sky once again, just in case what I saw was a hallucination. Too bad it isn’t.

Remember Aryanne’s old airship? The one we flew from Prance to Equestria and then I crashed it in the lake near Ponyville? Aryanne paid us a lot of money to pull it out of the water and rebuild it.

In hindsight, we probably shouldn’t have given it to Cherry Berry. Now it has four engines, two big-ass cannons on the lower deck of the gondola, large, bulletproof windows and almost unlimited range due to running on alcohol. Aryanne actually paid us for installing a much bigger gondola with the whole damn lab in the back, capable of turning anything organic into ethanol. To think that we thought she wanted it to evade taxes…

Oh, and of course it’s red. Because that makes it faster.

Anyway, this whole flying armoured distillery is currently over the horizon. I wonder when did they manage to get it?

Our camp currently looks like a brothel on fire. Starring Hexie as the fire: she currently kicks Vinyl out of the tent and drags Trixie to the plane. Luckily, Daring Do sobers up as soon as she sees the airship. Inkie moves on her own, more or less; not always in a good direction, but at least Ruby guides her.

“How long before we can take off?” Ruby asks, watching me as I levitate the tents and throw them into the plane, not caring about folding them properly.

“The sooner the better,” I reply. “Maybe they haven’t noticed us yet, but if they catch us on the ground, we’re fucked.”

“Yeah, sure…” Ruby points at Trixie who sits on the sand, rubbing her temples. It seems that she still hasn’t noticed that big fucking airship coming at us. What the hell? Even Vinyl somehow managed to stagger into the plane and drop on the floor inside.

“Oh, hell…” Hexie rolls her eyes. I wonder if her enthusiasm is caused by guilt – after all our poor form is mostly an effect of her moonshine. She walks to Trixie and smacks her in the ear.

“DON’T RUIN THE GREAT AND POWERFUL TRIXIE’S GREAT HANGOVER!” Trixie yells, pushing Hexie away.

“Save energy for later,” I say, rushing to her and pulling her towards the plane.

Finally, we’re all inside, where Inkie slowly tries to turn on the engines. It doesn’t go well since she moves like a zombie. Hexie moves her aside and pushes all the buttons in the right order. The props start to move, raising a cloud of sand. I push the throttle lever and we dart forward. The dust is everywhere; I can hardly see anything through the windscreen.

“Faster!” Ruby screams, looking behind. “They noticed us.”

We barely take off when a shell hits the nearby dune and explodes, sending sand and shrapnel around. I pull the lever to retract the gear. Another shell goes wide, exploding somewhere in front of us.

“Watch out,” Hexie says. “They may finally hit us.”

We fly low above the desert. I try some sharp turns, just in case the pursuers adjust the aim. The airship is so close that I can actually see Aryanne and Kyrie standing on a balcony in front of the gondola. In uniforms, they look pretty fabulous, despite the bruises and the fact that one of Aryanne’s hooves is in a cast.

“What do we do?” I ask. “They’re slower than us, but they’ll surely get us before we are out of their reach…”

“I can fly out of the plane, get inside and blow them up,” Daring Do says. “I’d get myself killed, but I do believe my legacy will live fo–”

“Roll that legacy and stick it up your arse,” I mutter when another shell flies past us. “I have a better idea. Hexie, hold the stick.” I stand up and grab my rifle. Then I go to the back of the plane, greeted by a sight of Vinyl throwing up.

I couldn’t care less. I open the small hatch in the back of the plane and rest the rifle on the fuselage. Through the sights, I can see Kyrie looking at Aryanne’s windswept mane and blushing. Well, soon she’ll be very traumatised…

My first shot goes wide and no one even notices it. Another one bounces off the window of the lower deck, leaving a small dent in the thick glass. At the third attempt, I manage to knock Aryanne’s hat off her head. I see Kyrie darting to her and tackling her – not sure if to protect her or just to get a hug.

“Are you shooting at them from that peashooter?” Hexie yells to me from the cockpit. “Hold on, I’m gonna show ‘em!”

Shit. I suddenly feel that the plane speeds up, gaining altitude, I barely manage to catch something when we turn upside down. That plane wasn’t made for such stunts, for fuck’s sake! Some loose crates fly past my head, but most of the stuff is firmly attached.

I let go and land on the floor. Through the window, I see that we’re rapidly approaching the airship; the ponies manning the cannons also noticed that and began to run away.

“Hexie, you better have a plan beyond crashing into it!” I yell. My voice drowns in the roar of our machine guns, shaking the whole plane. Smoke and smell of cordite fill the interior; I watch as the bullets fall, poking holes in the balloon and destroying expensive wooden boards on the balcony. Soon, however, we run out of bullets. My stomach makes a somersault when Hexie lowers the flight milimetres from the airship; we slide under it and I get the perfect view at its wheels and the ventral gun turrets somepony added after our renovation. I can even hear a few shots fired from them, but they all seem to miss.

Finally, we emerge from under the airship. Hexie makes a half of a barrel roll, returning to a normal position. With a loud moan, Vinyl falls on the floor, completely wrapped in the tents.

Huh. It’ll take ages before that airship will turn back to us. We’ll have enough time to reach an altitude where thinner air would resist our plane less, making us faster. If we had ammo and bad intentions, we could shoot off their propellers, one by one. Or poke more holes in the balloon, waiting for them to lose gas and land. Or…

“Minuette!” Ruby shouts. “We have another problem!”

What? I look at the airship and see that someone flies out of it. More exactly, about a dozen of armed pegasi, supported by something that looks like three primitive triplanes – guess Aryanne’s friends designed them themselves. Cherry Berry draws better things while taking a shit, but they’re still dangerous. Although slower, they’re more agile than us and a crew of two gives them quite a firepower.

I rush to the cockpit. “We’d better watch out for those pegasi. If some of those idiots ends up as a pile of gore on our prop, they can jam it.”

“I can imagine.” Hexie takes a sharp turn to avoid the pegasi shooting at us.

“There’s no way I’m staying here,” Daring Do mutters and leaves the cockpit.

“Don’t!” I shout, but it’s too late – she opens the door and flies out of the plane.

“Watch this scene closely,” Hexie mutters. “Daring Do gets herself killed.”

Well, not yet. Daring rushes to the closest pegasus and welcomes him with a kick to the stomach. Then she grabs his weapon and smacks him in the head with it. As he falls, she uses it to shoot a few holes in the wing of the incoming triplane. The pilot and rear gunner look at it, paying completely no attention Daring who flies to them and kicks the pilot out of the plane. Good thing the guy had a parachute, though at their low altitude it didn’t help much – that landing on the dune probably hurt.

Meanwhile Daring smacks the rear gunner, knocking him unconscious and thus claiming the triplane. Which she then uses to shoot down the other triplane.

“No matter what you do, you’ll never be as awesome as her.” Inkie sighs.

“Bullshit,” Hexie mutters, slowing down sharply. Judging by the shaking, at least two pegasi rammed into our tail. “I’d rather have her here, dealing with those wankers.” She points at the airship: another dozen of pegasi leaves it to attack us.

The door of the cockpit opens and Trixie walks in. Her previous grogginess disappeared; her expression is completely deadpan. “Trixie has a plan,” she says.

“What plan?” I ask. “I hope it’s better than Daring’s.”

“Come with me,” Trixie replies.

I shrug and walk with her to the back of the plane. Trixie trots to one of the crates she’d taken with her from Maneaus and opens it.

“I swear, I’m gonna start checking what you bring here,” I say, looking inside. “The first customs officer that’d look here would arrest us on sight.”

“What?” Trixie levitates a few dozens of small fireworks. She walks with them to the door of the plane and opens it. “Tell Trixie where they’re approaching from.”

I look around. Six pegasi are coming from our left while the rest are from our right. Daring Do tries to chase them, but she doesn’t seem to understand exactly how her new triplane works.

Trixie only smirks when I tell her the situation. She lights up the fuses of the fireworks and tosses them out of the plane, using her magic to roughly direct them at the incoming ponies.

The fireworks dart forward out of control like a colourful mass of incoming pain. The pegasi try to split up, but the explosions blind them. I see some burning feathers flying around. One of the stray fireworks hits Daring’s triplane, setting it on fire. She ditches it, gesturing towards us wildly, probably questioning our sanity.

“Nice,” I say, seeing the pegasi and the sole remaining triplane running away; some of them try to put out their burning tails. “Do you have something else?”

Trixie chuckles. “Funny you ask…” She walks to another crate and brings some big-ass red firework. It looks kinda scary, with a large gem in its tip and like, a shitton of gunpowder inside. “Trixie calls it ‘Grand Slam’.”

“What does it do?”

“The best part of the show.” Trixie lights up the fuse and throws the firework out of the plane. As soon as it starts flying, she lights up her horn, aiming it at the airship, which managed to turn and is now facing us.

“I already feel for you, Aryanne,” I mutter.

The firework lands exactly in the barrel of one of the cannons, abandoned after our previous attacks. For a moment, nothing happens. Then I see as the explosion rips the breech of the cannon apart, followed by loud “boom!” as the sound reaches us. I look at it, disappointed. It wasn’t as big as I expected.

Then, the ammo explodes. Good thing the gunners ran away before, because all that shrapnel would change them into minced meat. The cannon falls out of its mount, breaking the windows of the lower deck and tearing large holes in the walls. Boards on the floor catch fire. This sight probably brought some sense into the crew, as some guys with fire extinguishers rush to it.

“Not enough to blow up the whole thing,” Trixie mutters. “But nice anyway.”

“I wonder if they come to us to repair it,” I say. “We technically give thirty years warranty for every aircraft we sell, but the fine print says that the warranty will be voided if the user makes unauthorised modifications or when the damage occurs because the aircraft was used in warfare. I guess that counts.”

“Yeah. Trixie almost gave a fuck.”

We are about to close the door and go to the cockpit, when I notice something. A sole pegasus starts from the upper deck of the airship and flies to us, accompanied by the only remaining triplane. I guess in case of the triplane it’s not exactly the crew’s motivation to get us, but rather the only option: those things usually hang under the gondola and now there was no one to moor them back to it.

“Is that Kyrie?” I ask.

“It seems so,” Trixie replies. I take a closer look at the pegasus and I notice that it’s indeed Kyrie. She changed her uniform to a leather aviator hat and orange-tinted goggles, as well as a leather jacket. She also carries a submachine gun.

“Some guys just don’t know when to stop,” I mutter. Meanwhile, Kyrie starts shooting at Daring Do who dives towards the ground to avoid the bullets. Kyrie apparently isn’t fixated on finishing her off, as she turns towards us, speeding up.

“I guess it’s my turn to do something awesome,” I say, my eyes focused on the triplane which tries desperately to catch up with us. The distance should be fine…

I close my eyes and teleport onto the triplane. The rear gunner looks at me unsurely when I appear in front of him. I hit the machine gun in front of him; it spins, the barrel hitting him in the face.

“Nice to meet you,” I mutter, pulling the ripcord of his parachute. It opens, blowing the guy out of his seat. I dodge him and watch as he falls slowly with a dumbfounded expression.

I crawl to the pilot. He gives me a quick glance and turns the triplane upside-down. I clutch to the tailgunner’s seat, hanging from it. It doesn’t stop me from undoing the pilot’s seatbelt with my magic, though. Those earth ponies never learn.

Well, at least I open his parachute too. He’ll thank me later.

I reach the stick and turn the triplane back in the normal position. Now, where’s Kyrie? I look around and see that she’s shooting at our plane. She poked a few small holes in it, though it’s made harder by Trixie firing spells at her. Daring Do tries to catch up with us, but she’s still further away than me.

I look at the triplane. It’s small, it has a rotary engine that makes weird sounds, and, above all, it has two machine guns. I decide to test them, firing at Kyrie’s general direction.

Huh. The sights are probably nothing more than really expensive paperweights, because all the bullets go wide. What’s worse, Kyrie notices me and turns into my direction, firing four times. Each bullet hits one interplane strut; I hear something ripping off and notice the upper wing falling apart and disappearing behind the plane. That’s some shoddy crap if you ask me.

Meanwhile, I have worse problem. The rest of the triplane takes a steep nosedive, losing some more wing parts on the way. Seeing the sand approaching me much faster than I’d like to, I do the only thing that makes sense to me right now.

I teleport out of the plane, straight into Kyrie’s hooves.

“Was ist–” She is interrupted as I headbutt her, knocking the gun out of her hooves. Then I jam my knee in her crotch. After all, I always pay my debts.

Kyrie groans and slaps me with her wing. I nearly lose my grip, but I manage to catch her jacket and get on her back, squishing and twisting one of her wings in process. Then I put her in a chokehold. She struggles to catch a breath, but soon her hooves move slower and her face turns purple.

The speed at which we’re losing altitude tells me that it probably wasn’t the best idea. I let go of her, but then we slam at the top of the dune. The world spins around me as I roll down in the sand.

I must’ve hit something with my head, because when I wake up, I find myself lying in the sand, with a vulture poking me with its beak.

“Fuck off,” I mutter. The vulture gives me a nasty look and flies off. Not too far away – it lands by another pony-shaped lump lying in the sand and rips a feather from its twisted wing.

“Get out!” I exclaim, trotting to Kyrie. The vulture jumps away and stares at us from the safe distance, tilting its head.

“Kyrie, you okay?” I ask, poking her with my hoof. She doesn’t look well – the bruises she got in Zebrica are barely visible, but there’s a large hoof-shaped one on her cheek too, not to mention that I gave her a bad nosebleed with my headbutt. I lift her wing, but it falls limply.

“Seems that she’ll be your dinner,” I mutter to the vulture and back off.

“Gah!” Kyrie yells, jumping to her hooves. She produces a long, narrow dagger from under her jacket and charges at me, staggering.

I dodge her, levitating the knife out of her hoof. I kick her in the side, only to hear a metallic sound. Kyrie turns to me, barring her teeth. Enough of that. My spell throws her back, sending her tumbling on the sand.

“Chill out, you rabid idiot, will you?” I ask, flipping her dagger in my levitation.

“Mein Kopf…” Kyrie rubs her temples.

“Yeah,” I say. “Given that you look like your head is regularly used as a baseball ball, you probably shouldn’t overexert yourself, especially on hot days…”

“Was?”

I sigh and roll my eyes. “No. Fighting,” I say slowly and clearly. “Peace. Do you even have such a word in your dictionary? I bet it sounds like you’re about to shoot a class of foals.”

“Was?” Kyrie repeats, raising her injured wing. She then points at the knife I’m still playing with. “Mein Kampfmesser.”

“Your mother’s name was was,” I mutter. “Also, Mr. Kampfmesser stays with me. We may be all like Freundschaft and kissu-kissu, but I don’t trust you that much.”

Kyrie tilts her head. “Fokk off und die,” she says finally.

“So you do speak Equine,” I mutter. “Not much, but that’s a good start. Also, we may indeed die if our respective friends don’t find us quickly.” I look at the sky, but it seems that the whole fight moved away from us and we just got lost in the ensuing chaos. “Can you fly? Fliegen?”

“Nein,” Kyrie replies. “Du sprichst zu viel.”

“What?” I ask. “On a side note, do you have water?” I think for a while. “Wasser?”

“Ja.” Kyrie unzips her jacket and produces a metal container from under it. It has a perfect print of my hoof on its side. I think I know what made that metallic sound when I punched her.

“Not too much,” I mutter. “What do we do when we run out of it?”

Kyrie just looks at me unsurely. I roll my eyes. “Wasser,” I say. “When. No. Wasser. Was we are going to do?”

“Ah.” Kyrie nods. She lifts her hoof to her temple and says, “Boom!”

I shake my head. “No, we can’t make boom, because for starters, you have nothing to make boom, get it?”

“Ich weiß nicht,” Kyrie replies.

“Okay,” I say, wiping sweat from my forehead. “This conversation is not getting us anywhere. I guess we die before we learn each other’s languages, but I can as well try.”

“Was?”

“Das,” I reply and point at her aviator hat. “Was ist das?”

“Eine Fliegermütze.” Kyrie takes the hat off.

“Put it back on!” I exclaim. “Proper headgear is very important in high temperatures…” As I speak, it occurs to me that I have nothing on my head. “Actually, give me that.” I yank her jacket.

“Möchtest du hier ficken?” Kyrie asks. “Bist du verrückt?”

“Just give me your jacket.” I mutter, pointing at my head and her clothes. It takes a while before Kyrie finally gets what I mean. As soon as she gives me her jacket, I wrap it around my head.

“See?” I ask. “Ich habe eine neue Mütze, or whatever you say on such occasions. We can go back to learning. What is that?” I point at the desert around us.

Kyrie looks at me as if I was insane. “Die Wüste?”

“Voeste?” I ask.

“Wüste,” Kyrie replies, rolling her eyes.

“We call it ‘desert’,” I say. “Desert.”

“Dezerht,” Kyrie mutters. From her expression I can say that she assumed that I got crazy from all the sun, but decided to play along. She points at the sun. “Die Sonne.”

“Nice,” I mutter. “Though it shines too bright.”

It is indeed almost midday and if we don’t do anything about that, we’ll soon fry. Kyrie has it even worse – her pale coat gives her no protection against the sun whatsoever. Even if we survive, she’ll definitely get a nasty sunburn. Eventually, we hide in the shadow of the dune. It’s not much, but still better than sitting in the open.

“Is there something else you wanna know?” I ask.

“Ich liebe dich.”

“What?” I exclaim.

“Ich liebe dich,” Kyrie repeats. “Für Aryanne.”

“Uh huh,” I mutter. “Hard to be the only gay… whatever you guys call yourselves.”

“Ja.” Kyrie nods. “Und sie ist so weise, während ich bin ein Idiot.”

“Out of my well-learned politeness, I won’t deny that,” I say. “Anyway, it’s ‘I love you’.”

“Ju?” Kyrie asks. “Junkers?” She makes a sound of a diving pegasus, ready to drop a bomb on my ass.

I smack my forehead with my hoof. “You’re hopeless. On a side note, Aryanne may find ‘I love you’ a little lame.”

“Was?”

Damn. It was much easier when I was teaching Hexie Equine. After three months, she couldn’t order a hamburger, but she could curse everyone in the HayDonald’s to hell. In three languages.

“Try ‘I’m a huge lesbo, fuck me in the face’.” I stiff a chuckle, hoping that Kyrie doesn’t notice that. Luckily, she’s more busy with rubbing her quickly-reddening skin, not to mention that she’s not very good in getting other ponies’ feelings in the first place.

“Ei am a h–” Kyrie furrows her eyebrows. “hu– huge lesbo, fokk me in ze feiss… Gut?”

“Good,” I mutter. “Practice some more.”

Kyrie nods and takes a sip from her water can. She then gives it to me. I nearly choke, hearing her attempts to repeat the phrase I taught her. She really should shut up when I drink – wasting water wouldn’t be wise, especially since we have almost none of it. After all, we didn’t plan to be stranded in the desert, right?

The sun shines even brighter than before. I can’t lie in the sand anymore – even in the shadow, it’s still hot as fuck. Kyrie’s words become more and more slurred and eventually she goes silent, panting heavily.

What’s worse, the vulture comes back. For a while, until Kyrie tries to tackle it with an intent to suck its blood. Unfortunately for her, the vulture flies away, leaving her lying on the ground lifelessly. If someone is to find us, they better do it quickly.

“They won’t find you. And I’m very patient,” the vulture says.

“Shut up,” I mutter. “Vultures don’t talk. Or any animals for that matter.”

“Of course they don’t. That’s just your central nervous system shutting down due to lack of water.” The vulture chuckles. “You know, unless you’re a camel, you can survive three days without water, although given the weather, I give you one. Alternatively, you may freeze to death at night.”

“Go fuck yourself, you overgrown chicken,” I mutter.

“I can’t do that,” the vulture replies. “It’s not that easy with those wings.”

“Love will always find a way,” I say, trying to look at the vulture. Given that everything changed into a blurry haze, it’s kinda difficult. I’m pretty sure it went a bit darker… So maybe the night is coming? Fuck me if I know.

“So much food…” the vulture mutters. “What will I do with that?”

“Touch me and I’ll snap your neck.”

“Not for long.” The vulture chuckles. “Soon you’ll fall in a deep sleep from which–” The bird is rudely interrupted by a sound resembling Ruby’s BB gun.

“Fuck!” Ruby yells. “I missed that fucking bird!”

“That ‘fucking bird’ may go extinct.” This voice belongs to Daring Do. I can hear the plane circling somewhere above us. “I’ll carry her back up, you take care of that one until I’m back.”

“I’d give her a gun with one bullet,” Ruby mutters.

“She’d use it to shoot you.”

“Okay.” Ruby sounds pretty disappointed.

I feel like someone’s lifting me. Am I flying? Is it dying? It’s hard to tell.

The next thing I hear are the engines of the plane. I feel a pin prick and that wonderful feeling when my brain cells slowly fill with water. Of course I can’t die. I saw myself as an old mare…

Wait. It’s better not to think about it that way. That may have been just a vision. If I believe that I’m immortal, I may get myself killed.

“Minuette?” That’s definitely Inkie. “What’s up with her?”

“We need to get her to some hospital,” Daring Do replies. “Or a shaman, whatever. Stay with her, I need to pick up Ruby and that pegasus who was with her.”

I try to raise my head to see how is Kyrie, but suddenly I feel a headrush. A moment later, I fall asleep.

When I wake up, I hear distant pings of some medical equipment and a quiet echo of some conversation. Good. Daring Do didn’t bring me to a shaman after all. On the other hoof, the conversation sounds vaguely Pferdisch-like. Did we get caught by Aryanne and her friends?

I hear some hoofsteps, so I open my eyes. More good signs. I’m lying in some hospital bed. There’s another one here, on the opposite side of the room. Kyrie is in it and for some reason her hooves are tied to it with leather belt. I take a look at the card hanging from her bed’s frame. There’s a large, red “SENUWEEAGTIG!” scribbled across it for some reason.

Hmm, weird.

The trotting stops. I turn my head to the left and see a zebra wearing a nurse hat. That’s not typical, either. Like, I’ve seen pony nurses, bat pony nurses (known to accidentally give old patients heart attacks from seeing two fetishes at once), griffon nurses… but never a zebra nurse.

“Jy is wakker,” the zebra says. “Goeie more. Is jy okay?”

Ah, that explains a lot. The conversation wasn’t in Pferdisch. We are apparently in Republic of South Zebrica. Not to be confused with Southern Zebrica, currently a site of intense gorilla warfare.

“I don’t speak Zebrikaans,” I say.

“No one does, these days,” the zebra mutters. “You’re currently being hydrated and quarantined. The rest of your friends are quarantined too after that weird one mentioned that you were in Zebrica. We examined you thoroughly and it seems to me that you were in pretty bad shape recently. Same goes for your friend.” She points at Kyrie. “She’s also fine, though for some reason she bit two nurses and tried to strangle a doctor with a catheter.”

“Yeah. She does that, sometimes,” I mutter.

“You should watch out for yourself, especially in your current state,” the zebra says.

My current state? Do I have cancer or what?

“Really, no more getting kicked in the crotch for you, I’m afraid.” The zebra smirks.

“That was actually her.” I point at Kyrie. “And I paid her back.”

“I see,” the nurse replies. “Anyway, I’d like to tell you that, despite all your adventures, your baby is doing well…”

Ah, that’s good. I couldn’t live, knowing that I accidentally harmed my–

Wait, what?

Author's Note

Dictionary:
ten tutaj skurwiel, cipa, obezjajec - this here fucker, cunt, eunuch
Bramini na wojnie, tylko spokojnie - brahmins at war, so just keep calm (apparently comes from the prison slang)
Te, bezjajcew! Gadaj cożeś odjebał, albo tak ci piznę, że w powietrzu z głodu umrzesz. (regional/slang): Eh, ball-less! Tell 'em what a fucking stunt you pulled or I'll punch you so hard that you'll starve while flying.
Siktir git, sürtükler - go fuck yourself, whores.
rozpierdol - a really big mess; clusterfuck
Es zittern die morschen Knochen - The Rotten Bones are Trembling (due to slight changes in musical tastes since the 1930s, currently one can earn up to three years in prison for singing it in Germany).
Trzech synów matka miała... dwóch słynęło z mądrości... - A mother had three sons, two were known for their wisdom (the first two lines of a song called The Signaller's Anthem. The rest of the verse goes like, "and the third one who was dumb became a signaller")
Die Huren, kurwy niemyte, stulejarze, lecą nam wpierdolić - "unwashed whores with phimosis are flying to fuck us" (short version)
Mein Kopf… - my head... (she also says "was?" repeatedly, meaning "what?")
Du sprichst zu viel. - you talk too much.
Möchtest du hier ficken? Bist du verrückt? - Do you want to fuck here? Are you crazy?
Ich habe eine neue Mütze - I have a new hat.
Und sie ist so weise, während ich bin ein Idiot. - And she's so wise while I'm an idiot.
Senuweeagtig - nervous (I guess someone was so nervous that they held the "e" key for too long.
Jy is wakker. Goeie more. Is jy okay? - You're awake. Good morning. Are you okay?"

We’ll need fuel and resources if we want to get to the South Pole and it’s not like we can go to a store and buy some winter jackets after we blow up a whole block.

“How can I be pregnant?” I ask.

“Well,” the nurse says. “When two ponies love each other very much…”

“I know that, for fuck’s sake!” I exclaim. Even Kyrie opens one eye and looks at me curiously before falling asleep again. “I just don’t know how could it happen, when I last had sex months ago, on a different continent, and I even wasn’t in heat at that time!”

“Well, travelling is not a form of contraception,” the zebra mutters. “I’d say it even increases the chance of, umm… infection.”

Dammit. I’m pretty sure this is some fucking dream. And it’s probably cooked up by Vinyl, given the fact that this zebra nurse just rhymed. Yes, it’s definitely Vinyl’s fault, even if it was Tyluan who got me pregnant. I wonder what he’ll say when he learns about that. Assuming Wild Hunt didn’t drown him in the river yet.

The door opens and my friends walk in, giving me and the nurse worried looks. They’re all wearing white pajamas for some reason.

“Hello,” Vinyl says. “I think I just heard your sweet voice…”

I dart out of the bed and pin her to the floor, holding her throat tightly. “You!” I shout. “It’s all your fault! I’m not sure how, but it definitely is!” Someone tries to drag me away, but it’s not so easy. After all I can teleport…

Well, I think I can. Apparently the room is teleportation-proof, so the first attempt ends with me hitting the wall.

“You’d better calm down,” the nurse says, dragging me back to my bed, kicking and screaming. “Or you’ll get a new gown.” She points at Kyrie. “A straitjacket comes in packet.”

“See?” I ask, giving Vinyl a nasty glare. “It’s her fault. Because only in her sick mind all zebras rhyme!”

“Hey, I’m trying to drop it,” the nurse says. “But it’s kinda hard when they only give retarded and diseased patients to zebra nurses because no one cares about them.”

“This sucks,” Hexie says. “But that’s probably better than picking cotton…”

“Hexie!” Daring Do shouts.

“Minuette, that’s how you thank me for ordering them to make all the tests hospital in Johaynesburg has available, including pregnancy test and the test for presence of stick in your ass?” Vinyl asks. “Also, can we know what category we belong to?”

“Both, until proven otherwise,” the nurse replies. “Given where you were before you ended up here, you may have Q fever, yellow fever, cholera, plague, dengue fever, tetanus, syphilis, tularemia, typhoid, gonorrhoea, diphtheria, pertussis, polio, and common cold, so we’ll have to wait until one of you starts shitting something that looks like water after cooking rice.”

“We were vaccinated, I think,” Ruby says. “At least I was.”

“I’ve had syphilis,” Vinyl mutters. “You can’t catch that again, can you?”

“No, that’s chickenpox,” I reply.

“Shit.” Vinyl scratches her mane. “It all makes sense now…”

“I had polio as a filly,” Daring Do says. “I spent a year in bed and read everything we had at home. And then everything my parents brought from the library.”

“This will look nice in your autobiography,” the nurse mutters. “But generally, if you don’t show any symptoms other than rabid pregnancy…” She looks at me. “... we will let you out soon.”

“Yeah,” I say and point at Kyrie. “Can you transfer her to another room? She wasn’t with us and we have no idea where she was before. Manegascar would be a safe bet.”

“Manegascar?” the nurse asked. “There were no news from them in ages. As far as I know, they’re a bit concerned about public health.”

“Anyway,” Daring Do says. “What are we gonna do? We can’t go to the South Pole before the quarantine is over.”

“Look on the bright side,” Inkie says. “Caballeron doesn’t know where it is either. Same goes for Aryanne, unless she wants to bust Kyrie out of the hospital.”

“Maybe she assumed Kyrie is dead,” Trixie says. “Unless our friend’s feelings aren’t unrequited.”

“I can always ask,” Hexie walks to Kyrie and shakes her. “Get up, sleeping knight. Your Vaterland needs you.”

“As for getting out, we can always blow some part of the hospital up,” Vinyl says. “Like, not the first time we do that.”

“You do realise that I can hear you?” the nurse asks. “I’d like to warn you that the security here is rather strict. For starters, the nurses don’t leave the ward until you’re proven healthy or dead.”

“In Equestria, we have hazmat suits,” I say. “Hexie, what are you doing?”

Hexie stops poking Kyrie. “She’s not waking up. Though I already think I know how to do that…” She stands in attention and smacks Kyrie in the face. “Gefreiter Kyrie! Schlafst du? RAUS!

“Jawohl!” Kyrie gets up as far as the belts let her, while trying to salute. Hexie says something quickly – from what I’ve heard from her, whenever she has to speak Pferdisch a lot, she lapses into Batvarian dialect, apparently due to spending a while in a small flat with, like, ten ponies from that area. I guess that’s also why she sounds like a combination of me, Berry, and Vinyl with a large portion of Ponish accent.

Kyrie apparently doesn’t follow that dialect all that well, though she seems to understand more than from my attempts at teaching her Equine. She nods from time to time, says a few sentences, and goes back to listening to Hexie.

“What are they talking about?” Vinyl asks.

“Pineapples,” Daring Do replies. “And sponges.”

“You must have fucked something up,” Ruby says. “Pineapples?”

“Don’t ask me,” the nurse says. “Zebrikaans is not that similar.”

Hexie pauses and turns to us. “Okay,” she says. “You know those guys who are quiet when they speak in a foreign language, but quite eloquent in their native one?” She points at Kyrie. “She’s not one of them. A typical pegasus. You look for her brain, you only find air and some clouds.”

Daring Do clears her throat. “Spare us those theories and focus. Should we expect a night bombing from her friends or not?”

“Well, she wants to go home, she wants to take a leak, she has low sugar and wants a pineapple, she needs a bath and snuggles, and maybe someone to give her a hoofjob, for all I know. When I asked her about Aryanne’s plans, she told me a long story about how they fucked the president of Manegascar over.” Hexie takes a deep breath. “She also wonders how long it’ll take to repair the airship. Apparently Aryanne is always concerned about it.”

“Well, Trixie messed it up a bit,” Trixie says. “Didn’t look like it was going to reach South Pole anytime soon.”

“You do realise that Kyrie may remember the words ‘South Pole’ if you keep repeating them?” Hexie asks. “It’s not that hard.”

“Okay,” I say. “Nurse, can I make a call somewhere?”

“The phone is in the corridor,” the nurse replies and walks to Kyrie. “I need to walk her to the toilet. If anyone needs something, my name’s Suider Hart.”

“Okay.” I turn to Trixie. “You know that gay bar in Maneaus? I need their phone number.”

If I recall correctly, there are, like, six hours of time difference between Maneaus and Johaynesburg. Given that it’s about 7 AM here, Wild Hunt may still be hanging out in her favourite watering hole.

Trixie shrugs. “Did you suddenly decide to become a lesbian?”

“I have their number.” Vinyl puts her hoof in her mane and produces a slightly bent and scratched box of matches. I grab it and get out of my bed. Damn, it feels like raising from the coffin. I apparently spent a lot of time in it.

I walk out of the room and find an old phone hanging on the wall. I can’t help but wonder how clever the monetary system in this country is: the local coins have exactly the same diameter as Equestrian silver bits, with the exchange rate being one to fifteen. This means I can comfortably use bits to pay for the phone while paying fifteen times as many as the locals.

Well, I’ll suck it up. I pick up the receiver and type the number. Judging by the watery sound of the beeps, the signal is relayed via some underwater town full of seaponies or some other shit.

Finally, someone picks up the phone and for a while I can hear the distant sounds of a party.

“Pardal des Colinas Verdes, Como posso ajudá-lo?” a deep voice asks.

For a moment, I thinking who the hell Pardal des something-somewhere is, until my mind shows me a picture of a very big and very lesbian mare working as a bouncer in the bar.

“Diesel?” I ask. “Is Wild Hunt there?”

“Wait a minute, I’m gonna take a look,” Diesel replies. For a moment I don’t hear anything. Then, I hear hoofsteps and someone picks up the receiver.

“Boss?” Wild Hunt asks. “This guy eventually paid, not my fault that piranhas–”

“No, it’s me, Minuette,” I reply. “Remember me?”

“Of course,” Wild Hunt says with a chuckle. “What’s up? Still with those bunch of losers and psychos? If you ever need a job, we have a plenty around here. I saw you fight and–:”

“Maybe one day,” I say. “I’m in Johaynesburg now and I’m a bit busy. Is Tyluan still in Maneaus?”

“He is.” Wild Hunt laughs. “A bunch of small-time mobsters from Hooviet Union tried to give him a second anus, but I pulled him out and instead one of them, previously known as Three-legged Malchik is now Two-legged Malchik.”

“Tell him that I have a small souvenir from our previous meeting at the back of the plane,” I say. “And I’m not sure what to think about it.”

“You’re clearly overestimating him,” Wild Hunt mutters. “He’ll never figure out that you’re pregnant.”

I sigh. “Okay, then just tell him that a bun is in the oven and ask what he’s gonna do about that. Also, I’m not sure how long I’ll be here, but then we’re heading south. As far south as it’s possible.”

“Such a climate change?” Wild Hunt asks. “Whatever you think, but he’ll freak out about the well-being of his heir. Once he regains consciousness, that is.”

“Tell him that he doesn’t have to be with me or anything if he doesn’t want to,” I say. Seriously, I need no stallion. Especially since the daddy, despite being fine and all, is still a mobster. My mother won’t approve.

“You must be joking. He’ll still freak out.”

“Whatever. He’ll have to fly on his own to catch up with me, so I have some time.” I put the receiver back. I already paid for this conversation enough to feed a small town for a week.

When I turn to go back to my room, I notice some big pony with an eyepatch sitting on a bench. On the other side of the bench there’s a bored-looking pegasus mare who does everything to not look at him. They’re both covered in bandages.

They look kinda familiar, though it takes me a while before it clicks. I approach the stallion, smiling.

“Certified dragons slayers, right?” I ask. “Down on luck, huh?”

The one-eyed pony looks at me and groans. “Don’t ask. First it turned out that our certified virgin needs to have her certificate revoked and then they quarantined Fuse because he’s a donkey. We’re sitting here for two weeks and it doesn’t seem like we’re getting out anytime soon.” He turns to the mare. “Yes, it’s all your fault.”

The mare bends her wing in a complicated way to show him her middle feathers. From what I know, it doesn’t mean anything nice.

“What’s the worst, I don’t even know when it happened…” the stallion says.

Shit. I think I know. “Excuse me, I need to talk to someone.” I rush back to my room and, since the nurse is still not back, I grab Vinyl and pin her to the wall.

“Certified virgin,” I say.

Vinyl furrows her eyebrows. “Certified, my ass. Maybe from the front, but not anymore, either.”

“Okay.” I look into her eyes. “Now you’ll go and explain that to this big one-eyed guy, okay?” I push her out of the room.

“What was that for?” Ruby asks when I close the door.

“Not something you need to know,” I reply. “Also, I just learned that quarantine may last for a while, at least if you’re a donkey.”

“We’re not,” Trixie says.

“Mom says one of our ancestors was a donkey,” Inkie mutters. “He lived in the forest, writing poetry and eating thistles.”

“You’d better not mention that fact to Suider Hart,” I say. “She seems okay, but I don’t think the rest of the staff holds her in high regards. Or any of us for that matter.”

“How is that even possible?” Hexie asks. “The kid would be a mule. One of my buddies was a mule. They can fuck as much as they want and they won’t get anyone pregnant.”

“Magic of ancient rocks,” Inkie replies. “At least that’s what mom said.”

“Yeah, sure.” I shrug. “You’d better think how to get out of here. I hope that at least the plane is in a safe place.”

“Hidden under branches in some quiet part of the river,” Daring Do replies. “Nopony is gonna find it. There was an abandoned hideout of diamond smugglers nearby, but nopony was there for ages.”

Ruby raises her hoof. “I’d like to point out that when we landed auntie Hexie complained about lack of fuel,” she says. “If we bust out of the hospital as usual, we’ll be fucked.”

Huh. For once she speaks like my daughter. We’ll need fuel and resources if we want to get to the South Pole and it’s not like we can go to a store and buy some winter jackets after we blow up a whole block.

The door opens and Suider Hart walks in, dragging half-conscious Kyrie with her. “She was trying to bust through bathroom window,” the zebra says. “It wasn’t a good way to go.”

“We see,” Inkie mutters, watching as Suider Hart ties Kyrie back to her bed and walks away. “So, windows are not an option.”

“How about paying somepony to let us out?” Trixie asks. “Trixie is a businessmare. There’s surely somepony with a salary low enough.”

“That wouldn’t be right,” Daring Do replies.

“Trixie would like to point out that we just considered blowing the hospital up.” Trixie sighs. “And remind me how exactly did you get into Brayzil?”

“Damn,” Daring Do mutters. “This will require a lot of writing around in order to avoid bumping the rating.” She looks at us. “Well, you all are rather not suitable for my target audience.”

“Fucking great, given that I’m your target audience,” Ruby says. Subtle as usual, kid. “I won’t be able to read about myself. What a load of–”

The door opens, interrupting her. Vinyl walks in and smiles at us. “I know how to get out of here!”

“How were the certified dragon slayers?”

“Molly and Toaster Frost?” Vinyl asks. “Fine. They’re digging a tunnel to get out of here. Like, they already have twenty yards.”

“How much more do they need?” Daring Do’s ears perk up.

“About three miles.” Vinyl nods. “If we help them…”

“Okay, call Suider Hart.”

Twenty minutes, a meeting with the hospital’s accountant, and one “additional examination to prove you’re fine”, we’re discharged as being in perfect health, although slightly poorer. Guess it could’ve been worse.

We walk across the town. Built as a settlement of gold miners, Johaynesburg is a mix of big, recently-built buildings and bizarre pieces of architecture made by the miners, who just needed something quick and cheap. The streets are rather crowded, mostly with zebras and ponies dragging their carts, carriages, and other vehicles around.

Well, given such a population density and the healthcare in neighbouring countries being less than stellar, no wonder they’re afraid of illnesses. Daring Do says the hospital we just left is one of the biggest in the world. Let’s hope those who are actually ill are not discharged as easily as we were.

“Couldn’t you put it a little closer?” I ask after about an hour of walking around the streets.

“The citizens would find it a bit weird if we flew right above their heads and we didn’t want attention,” Daring Do replies, giving Trixie a heavy glare.

“What?” Trixie raises her head. “Trixie didn’t do anything attention-y for weeks.”

Yeah, except the whole thing with those damn griffons, but I’d rather not bring that up. Especially since we get into a rather crappy neighbourhood, probably the outskirts of the town. Everyone looks like miners, smugglers, or both.

Oh, and I just noticed that they apparently let Kyrie out with us. She’s quiet; I’m not sure if she just tagged along, or is she blatantly following us. I guess she doesn’t know that either.

“That’s my kinda town,” Ruby says. “With all the bad colts and buildings that have, like, souls.”

I’m not sure what kind of soul a simple hut made of stolen wood and old signboards can have, but I guess she’s just romantic as every kid her age. “I thought you’ve had a crush on Button Mash?” I ask. “He’s anything but a bad colt, from what I know.”

“Yes, but that’s a longer perspective, for when I’m old like you and want to get married.” Ruby shrugs. “Before then, all bets are off.”

Dammit. She somehow ended up inheriting the worst traits of me, Berry, and Vinyl. Well, maybe except the shameless alcoholism, but I guess there’ll be time for that.

Meanwhile, we leave the town and walk towards the river. There are dense bushes and trees there, obscuring the view almost completely. Soon, Daring Do leads us to a small cave next to a shallow bay. Not far away from it, there’s a pile of leaves and branches seemingly stuck in the middle of the river. I guess that’s where our plane is.

“Hey, we meant to search that cave, didn’t we?” Vinyl asks. “You’ve said there were diamond smugglers here.”

Daring Do sighs. “Okay, but quick. And someone take care of Kyrie. Why is she walking with us?”

Hexie asks Kyrie something. The reply makes her smirk.

“She has nothing else to do, she can’t fly, Aryanne is hell knows where…” Hexie shrugs. “She just hopes we’ll give her something to eat.”

“Her loyalty lies in her stomach, then,” Trixie says. “Does anypony have some crackers or something? Trixie would eat something too.”

“Fatass’ mind is always fat,” Vinyl mutters. “Let’s explore this cave first.” She trots to the cave and disappears in the darkness. Dunno how about her, but after our recent meeting with Bastet, I’m kinda sick of caves, tunnels, and other underground facilities. Why none of the ancient civilisations built crystal spires ten thousand metres tall? That’d be awesome.

“Holy shit!” The echo of Vinyl’s voice reaches us. “Guys, come here, quick!”

“What did she find?” Daring Do asks, rushing to the cave.

“Slow and painful death,” Inkie mutters.

We look at her unsurely, but there’s no time to wonder about her state of mind. Knowing Vinyl, she probably really needs our help. If only to find a way out.

We find Vinyl not far away from the mouth of the cave. The room probably was abandoned a while ago; the ashes from the campfire and some broken tools are the only signs that someone was here. Well, except one thing.

“That’s totally metal,” Ruby mutters.

“Well, looks like wood to me.” Hexie knocks on the lid. “Oak. Should take a while before worms bite through it. Unless you just use it for show and burn the body in a cheaper one.” She looks at us. “What? My uncle was an undertaker.”

I look at Vinyl. “Okay, there’s a coffin here. Did you actually look inside, or you only called us so we could see it?”

“Maybe there are diamonds inside,” Daring Do says. Her eyes look like two diamonds now. Sometimes I think her greed will get her killed one day.

“More likely some fresh corpse,” Hexie says.

“Es ist nicht tot, was ewig liegt, und in fremder Zeit wird selbst der Tod besiegt,” Kyrie mutters.

“Yeah, deine Mutter,” Hexie replies.

“There’s only one way to know,” Daring Do walks to the coffin and opens it. “Huh. I haven’t expected that.”

The pony inside is pretty much alive, at least judging by the fact that he’s bound and gagged. He’s a grey stallion with black mane, sunglasses and some explosion-thingy as his cutie mark. If I recall Daring Do books correctly, his name is Withers.

Daring Do leans to him and removes the gag from his mouth. “What’s up, Withers?” she asks.

“I was kidnapped!” he exclaims.

“We see,” Trixie mutters.

“No, I was kidnapped twice!” he cries. “First time we were all kidnapped by some fucking pale clones...” He looks at our group and his eyes land on Kyrie. “Holy shit! It’s one of them!”

Kyrie raises her eyebrows, but before she can say something, Hexie punches her in the back of the head, knocking her out.

“What the fuck did you do?” I ask. “And what for?”

Hexie blushes. “Well… I thought that if his friends are still kidnapped, we may exchange them for her…”

“I won’t exchange anyone for Caballeron!” Daring Do turns to Withers. “What happened then?”

“Can you be a bit nicer?” Withers asks. “I don’t like being yelled at. Not to mention that the descriptions of me in the last book were rather unflattering.”

Daring Do sighs. “Is it about calling you ‘metrosexual’?”

“No, but ‘the gayest of Caballeron’s henchmen’ definitely stole the cake,” Withers replies. “Anyway, there was some kind of a battle, a big fucking rocket hit the airship, and I managed to run away. I ran across the desert, found a train station, got to Yohaynesburg and then I got kidnapped by the diamond smugglers. Fuck my life.”

“Yeah, dude, fuck your life indeed,” Vinyl mutters. “Girls, should we release him?”

“Not yet,” I say, turning to Withers. “It just happens that currently unconscious Kyrie and I also fell out of our respective flying machines on that day. Did you, by any chance, ran away with food and water supplies?”

Withers pales a bit. “Yes,” he replies. “We were kept next to their magazine and the rocket destroyed the wall between them.”

“I assume you also got a map and a compass?” I ask. “If I recall correctly, there’s a train line from Gabopone to Yohanesburg, a bit to the west from the battle site, but I wouldn’t know that without a map.”

“Well…”

“Not to mention that you probably had a lot of water. I started talking to vultures after only a few hours in the sun.”

“Okay, they let me out.” Withers rolls his eyes. “But none of us likes this deal, okay? We want to screw them over as soon as we can. And what I said about diamond smugglers is true.”

Suddenly, I hear the sound of a working engine. I rush outside of the cave to look at the plane, but that’s not it, luckily. However, there’s a small airboat coming to us, with three ponies sitting in it. As it approaches us, I can even recognise the engine – I guess it was “borrowed” from some small griffonian airship, complete with the propeller.

I turn back. “How did those smugglers look like?” I shout.

“A choleric old fart with sideburns, a sexy guy in his forties with a scar, and an angry teenage filly with a machete,” Withers shouts back. Totally not gay, my ass. “Why are you asking?”

“They’re coming here.”

Daring Do, Inkie, and Hexie join me on the shore as the airboat approaches us. The old stallion with white sideburns and a tam o’shanter gets out of it and runs to us, holding an old, rusty, black powder rifle in his mouth. Where did he get it? From my grandma? Hope he doesn’t try to fire this thing – it looks like it’s gonna fall apart and blow his teeth out.

Luckily, he doesn’t shoot. Instead, he starts yelling something at us in Zebrikaans.

“Can anyone explain to me what this guy means?” Daring Do asks. “I’m guessing it’s your cave, but I don’t get what is this whole fuss about.”

“Flintheart, shut up,” the other stallion says. “Don’t worry about him. He knows Equine, but he’ll never admit it. You know, he thinks Equestrians are weak for letting all those filthy zebras live with them and so on. Who are you and what are you doing here?”

“I’m a writer,” Daring Do replies. “Professor A.K. Yearling. We got a bit lost while I was doing research for my new book and then we kinda accidentally found this guy in the coffin.”

“A.K. Yearling?” the teenage filly asks. “I know you! I love your books, you know. Why is it so hard to get them in South Zebrica? It’s not fair…”

“I’m sorry.” The stallion smiles sheepishly. “This is my daughter, whom I named after everything I hold dear…”

“Diamant,” the filly replies. “Just Diamant.”

“And my name is Friggin’ Rich.” He makes a brief pause. “Just call me Mr. Rich, okay?”

Damn. There’s apparently one in every country. “Any connection to Filthy Rich from Ponyville, by any chance?” I ask. “Or Inmundo Rico from Mexicolt City?”

“My cousin and my fourth cousin,” Mr. Rich replies. “How are they?”

“Rich, I guess,” I mutter.

“I wrestled a minotaur at Diamante’s cute-ceanera,” Inkie says. “And my sister organised Diamond’s cute-ceanera, but that was a while ago.”

“Did someone mention cute-ceaneras?” Ruby asks, walking out of the cave. “Holy shit, another one!” she exclaims when she notices Diamant.

“Hmm, there’s surely a lot of you,” Mr. Rich mutters. Flintheart looks at his old rifle unsurely. No surprise here – Ruby is followed by Trixie, who carries unconscious Kyrie on her back, and Vinyl walking together with Withers. Judging by the looks Withers gives her, he’s not as gay as I thought.

“Happens to us a lot, dude,” Hexie mutters. “I guess we’ll have to sort it out. We’ll leave you that cutie from the coffin and the blondie, and you… Wait, you’re a smuggler, aren’t you?”

“I prefer being called a vendor,” Mr. Rich replies. “Free trade for everyone. And I don’t need either of them, the guy eats a lot, wants eyeliner, and takes space in the coffin. Same probably goes for the blondie.”

Kyrie opens one eye. “Vergib mir, Aryanne… Ich weiss nicht was schlecht gelaufen… Mein Fehler.”

“Does she only speak Pferdisch?” Mr. Rich asks.

“Totally,” Hexie replies. “She’s also dumb, will run away at first occasion, and she can’t fly now due to a wing injury. But you can set her and Mr. Pretty free and make two good deeds at the price of one. And another one if you help us with supplies.”

Even Flintheart goes silent. I guess his hostility towards us doesn’t involve business deals.

“What kind of supplies?” Mr. Rich asks.

“Winter clothes,” Daring Do replies.

“Fuel,” Hexie adds. “You must have some, if only for this boat.”

“Ammo,” I say. “Rifles, autocannons… We happen to collect various firearms and the calibers are a mess.”

“Food.” Trixie licks her lips. “Trixie would like to learn about local cuisine.”

“Condoms,” Vinyl mutters.

“Some maps, maybe?” Inkie asks.

“Common sense.” Ruby smiles, showing off all her teeth.

Mr. Rich’s jaw drops. “Okay…” he says. “This may take a while, though. Especially since we have to transport everything ourselves, or with the boat.”

“Don’t worry about that,” I reply. “You can start with fuel, then we can help you with the transport.”

Hexie clears her throat. “And what about Withers and Kyrie? We definitely don’t need them here.”

“We can skin them, castrate them, and put their heads on tall poles.” Ruby smirks. “Aryanne will think twice before following us.”

“No castrating!” Vinyl exclaims, grabbing Withers and shoving him in front of us. “Would you really castrate that?”

Ruby shrugs. “I don’t know, I’m eleven.”

“Dropping them off in Manegascar, while fair play, also won’t work,” Daring Do says. “Too dangerous. Although maybe we can drop them at the nearest police station – if they’re wanted, maybe we’ll even get a prize for them.”

“You already did that to me in Chineigh,” Withers mutters. “It took me three weeks to dig my way out. And, for the record, the nearest country where I’m wanted is Neigheria. It’s far away from here and the police there are rather slow. I know that.”

“Why are you wanted, bad boy?” Vinyl asks, purring like a cat.

Withers rolls his eyes. “Daring Do and the Black Neighfretiti,” he replies. “The chase across the town, with the police, exploding carts, Daring Do dropping a container full of silk curtains on Ahuizotl, three sunk ships, a ton of dead fish in the middle of the town, half of the port demolished?”

Daring Do chuckles. “Those were good times. And if I recall correctly, those were two ships.”

“Yeah.” Withers sighs. “My friends ran away and blamed this whole mess on me. Not cricket, if you ask me.”

“Definitely not,” Daring Do says. “To think about it, if you weren’t with them, I would gladly make you my assistant.” She smiles at him. Damn, is he Vinyl’s male counterpart? A chick fucking magnet or what?

“No thanks,” Withers says. “I’d like you remind you that you ran away from there first.”

“I was in a hurry.”

“So was I, but then it took me a month to run away from there, and now I can’t show up in Neigheria.” Withers groans.

While they’re bickering, I notice Diamant gesturing towards me. I look at her unsurely and walk to her. Ruby follows me; I guess she just wants to be friends with all Diamond Tiara’s cousins. Diamant nods and walks towards the river, further from her father and our friends.”

“What do you want?” I ask after a while of walking in silence.

“Business,” Diamant replies. “Dad and unca Flintheart will first listen to you, then think about it for a while, and you’ll lose time, ja? And they ain’t gonna talk to you about their plans.”

“Sounds like my mom,” Ruby says. “A lot of talking, not much doing. And dad’s even worse.” She looks at me and smirks.

“Ja.” Diamant nods. “We wanted to go to Neighmibe. There you can get all the things you want and leave those two. Assuming you have something to carry them.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Ruby replies. “See that big fucking pile of branches on the river?”

“You know that you can’t tell our secrets to everyone, don’t you?” I say.

“Exactly my dad’s thinking.” Diamant chuckles. “What do you have there? A big boat? An airship?”

“Something like that.” Before I can protest, Ruby jumps into the river. Damn. I don’t think she can swim at all, so I just teleport on the top of the pile of branches while she’s in shallow waters near the shore.

“Kids these days,” I say, watching her struggle to get to me. “You’d want everything to come to you right now, while having no means to do so.” I shake some branches off the plane. I really hope it’s anchored well, because I wouldn’t want to swim away with it.

“You’re saying?” Ruby asks. Her horn lights up and she disappears in a flash of green light. I look around to see where she’ll show up again.

Which, quite predictably, happens to be about ten metres behind the plane, and about two metres above the surface of water. Which makes it much easier to catch her.

“Accuracy,” I mutter. “Yours needs work. When did you even learn to teleport?”

“I didn’t,” Ruby replies, helping me with kicking off the branches. I can see Diamant’s eyes widening as more and more of our plane is revealed. “I just did that for the first time.”

“Not bad,” I say. “Though I was younger than you when I started teleporting. But I first teleported on my brother’s head when he was in the toilet.”

“Cool.” Ruby jumps into the water, opens the door of the plane and climbs inside. “How do you like it, Diamant?”

“Perfect!” Diamant exclaims.

“Okay,” I say. “Would you bring the rest here? I’m pretty sure they’re tired of conversation.”

And that’s, dear children, how we left the continent. Well, not right after that, since we first went a bit north to Neighmibe, a rather large town by the seashore. Kinda interesting, since it also happens to be surrounded by desert. I won’t bore you with technical details of the equipment we bought. Let’s just say that it was rather hard to get winter clothes there and that everything was much cheaper back then. Damn inflation.

“You forgot about the brothel.”

What? Ah, yes. We may have kinda left Kyrie and Withers in a brothel. And it was Vinyl’s idea. Not to mention that I wasn’t there, since you said that I was pregnant and I shouldn’t go there. Vinyl, tell the younger generation what happened!

“Well… It’s all rather blurry here, you know. Hexie got everyone drunk and chained those two to the frame of some heavy-ass bed. That’s all I remember and I woke up next day, throwing up in the toilet while Trixie was holding my mane.”

Damn. Hexie? What’s your version of those events?

“Well, first Inkie dropped under the table, then this old dude Flintheart, then Kyrie, then Vinyl… It took a while to get Withers drunk, not to mention that all the whores also passed out. Eh, if I were young again… I had to kick Trixie in the head because she wanted to blow a hole in the ceiling to look at the moon. But yeah, then I found the heaviest of heavy-duty beds for fat whores and chubby chasers, and chained them to it. After that, I gathered everypony and we got a Prench leave.”

“Took a Prench leave. Thirty two years of knowing Equine and you still can’t remember that? The Great and Powerful Trixie is disappointed.”

“Who gives a fuck. Minuette, just tell the younglings the rest of the story, before I die of thirst. Does anyone have vodka?”

Okay then. After we went shopping, we bid farewell to Diamant, her father, and uncle Flintheart and flew south, into the unknown… Hardly we knew that we were approaching something bigger than we ever imagined…

“Damn. She’s being dramatic again.”

Author's Note

Pardal des Colinas Verdes, Como posso ajudá-lo? - Pardal des Colinas Verdes, how can I help you? Given that Pardal des Colinas Verdes means "Sparrow of Green Hills", going by "Diesel" seems like a logical choice.

Es ist nicht tot, was ewig liegt, und in fremder Zeit wird selbst der Tod besiegt. - That is not dead which can eternal lie, and with strange aeons, even death may die.

Vergib mir, Aryanne… Ich weiss nicht was schlecht gelaufen… Mein Fehler. - Forgive me, Aryanne. I just don't know what went wrong... My bad.

Monks from the Gelding Grotto have a similar thing. It’s thousands years old, but all it says are corny jokes.

The engines hum at the even pace. I sit comfortably in my seat, steering the machine. Inkie is sitting by my side and Hexie sits behind us, doing something in front of a large board full of colourful buttons. Below us, only water.

Well, I can’t look at it for long. Else I’ll puke.

It’s been just a day since we left the smugglers at the shores of South Zebrica and we’re already quite far south. Hexie keeps yelling at us for putting too much strain on the engines, but Daring Do says we’ll worry about it later.

In fact, I hope she knows a way out, or the engines are as strong as she trusts they are. I’d rather not be stranded in the middle of South Pole. Zebrica at least was warm. Sometimes even too warm.

“Heating, my ass,” Hexie mutters, turning the knob of the said heating to the max. “It keeps getting colder. And why is it so dark?”

“Our planet keeps tumbling after the great rock from outer space hit it,” Inkie replies. “Even when Celestia moves the sun to this hemisphere, the bottom of the planet stays in the dark. But it goes the other way round in winter.”

“Ah, so it’s like when seaponies, reindeers, and geezers from Saint Ponysburg have white nights in summer,” Hexie replies. “But couldn’t someone straighten out the planet? It should be easier than moving the sun, don’t you think?”

“It’d probably fuck us more than it’s worth,” I reply. “Like, we’re used to the planet moving the way it moves, and if it stopped, everything would move slightly to the left.”

“Define ‘slightly’,” Hexie says.

“About two circles around the earth.” I shrug. “At least everything that’s not firmly attached to the ground. And I’d like to remind you that we are not.”

Somepony pushes the door open. I told everyone that they should knock at the cockpit’s door, but of course ‘discipline’ is not a word in my friends’ dictionary. I turn to see a big pile of jumpers, coats, and blankets stacked on one another. It shuffles around for a moment before it speaks in Ruby’s voice.

“I’d like to point out that if it gets any colder in the back, my cunt will freeze off.”

“Maybe you’ll stop thinking with it,” I reply. “Is it really that cold?” As I say it, I feel a gust of cold wind coming from the back of the plane. Apparently the heating is less effective than I thought.

“Vinyl is currently checking whose snot has a funnier colour,” Ruby replies. “And you can pretty much pee ice cubes.”

“It seems that we’re close,” Inkie says.

“Close to making a fire.” Ruby shrugs. “You’ve said that smoking on a plane is forbidden?”

“Remind everyone that we carry a lot of fuel,” I say. “If they start a fire, we’ll be warm till death. Which isn’t much.”

“Okay.” Ruby sighs and walks back to the rest of our friends, losing some clothes on her way. I really don’t get it. It’s not that cold.

Okay, now it’s fucking cold.

Like, seriously, when I went to sleep, it was all pretty cool, although I buried myself under several layers of blankets. The back of the plane really was colder. But it was pretty mild in comparison to what we have now. Not to mention that soon it’ll start to smell, because the toilet froze and I had an attack of morning sickness. Just great.

On my way to the cockpit, I encounter Daring Do. She’s currently pretty busy punching her mattress for some reason.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“I have nothing to do, and in such cases I’m prone to attacks of aggression,” she replies. “It’s a prevention.”

“Normal ponies masturbate in such cases,” I mutter. “Not that there’s much place for that in here.”

“Do tell.” Daring Do sighs. “Not that Vinyl and your kid mind.” She lowers her voice to a whisper. “I also did, but it doesn’t help.”

Can this trip be over? I guess first thing I do on the ground will be cleaning the whole plane. To show how much it affected me, I get another attack of morning sickness, straight on her hooves. Woohoo. This day just got much better.

“You’re putting my patience to the test,” Daring Do mutters through gritted teeth.

“I’m pregnant, remember,” I reply. “Maybe you should try, dunno, karate lessons with Hexie?”

“Yeah, that’s a better idea.” Daring Do storms off quickly. Sometimes I think she’s a bit claustrophobic. Though after a while in here, everyone would be. I guess it’ll only take a while before we start throwing each other out.

I’m about to get some rag and clean the floor, when Hexie walks in. “Hello,” she says. “Inkie told me to tell you that there’s some land in front of us. She’s asking where to land.”

Before I can reply, Daring Do emerges from the shadows and tackles Hexie. Or rather tries to since Hexie is at least fifty kilograms heavier, not counting all the tools, she usually carries with herself. Daring Do simply bounces off. She spreads her wings to brake and tries once again, this time aiming for the head. Hexie isn’t having any of it. She ducks, letting Daring Do fly over her. Then she does three simple things.

First, she jams a wrench in the back of Daring Do’s knee, causing her to sit on her haunches. Then she grabs her left wing and smacks her in the back of the head with the other hoof. Kinda like a prison guard position with the donkey punch added for a good measure.

The sound Daring’s joint makes when she flies forward makes me sick again. At least Hexie releases her before ripping the wing off, but it doesn’t really help since she runs face-first into some crate.

“What the fuck was that?” Daring Do mutters, opening her eyes. Blood drips from her nose and her left wing is twisted at some weird angle.

“You started it,” Hexie replies. “You tell me.”

Daring Do points at me. “I had a temporary bout of insanity and she told me to train karate with you.”

“Good thing I didn’t hit with the full force, then,” Hexie says.

Daring Do groans and gets up. She limps towards the wall and smacks her wing against it until the joint pops back in the socket. Seriously, I’m gonna throw up again. “That wasn’t full force?” she asks, her voice unnaturally high-pitched. “What’d it do? Rip my wing clean off?”

“No,” Hexie replies. “It’d break your skull and make your brain flow out of your nose. The wing usually stays in place. Makes it easier to clean later.”

“Great,” Daring Do deadpans. “Three more days of being unable to fly.”

“Two weeks,” Hexie says. “No one who met me got back to health in less than two weeks.”

“You clearly haven’t fought many pegasi,” Daring Do says. “We regenerate pretty fa–” She’s interrupted by a sudden shock, as if the plane hit something hard. We all fly forward, falling on the floor. It seems that Inkie finally decided to land on her own and, since snow is kinda like water, do that without the landing gear down.

Well, I guess our comfort is the least of her concerns.

Hexie gets up first. “Kurwa twoja mać…” she mutters under her breath, rushing to the cockpit. Soon, we hear her yelling, “I didn’t clean that fucking plane for you to drop it in the snow like that!”

“Would you prefer broken gear?” Inkie asks. “The snow is rather deep here, I think.”

Well, at least they’re not throwing punches at each other. Given their strength, they’d utterly trash the cockpit.

“And how are you gonna take off now?” Hexie sighs. “It’d take a lot of digging, not to mention that we’ll have to leave half of the stuff…”

“We’ll worry about that later,” Daring Do says. “Let’s see where we landed.”

I look through the window and see… Well, I can’t see shit. Mostly because the snow we threw up into the air while landing didn’t fall down yet. Or maybe it’s snowing in general. Probably a bit of both.

“Wheee!” Ruby shouts. “Winter!” She opens the door and jumps into the snow. Immediately, she falls deep into it. After a while, she digs herself out and levitates some snow, forming a large snowball.

“I guess we’re gonna need some snowshoes,” Hexie mutters. “Trixie and I first. We’re the heaviest.”

“Maybe you’re the heaviest,” Trixie replies, emerging from the back of the plane. “Trixie is just– Aaargh!” she yells when Ruby’s snowball hits her right in the face.

“Snowball fight!” Vinyl knocks Trixie away, jumping out of the plane. She throws a snowball at Ruby, but my apparent daughter is faster; she unleashes a barrage of snow on Vinyl, who hides in a trench created when she landed in the drift.

“Now I’m gonna show you…” Vinyl grabs something with her hoof. She’s about to throw it, when she looks at it and screams.

“What’s that?” Daring Do tries to fly to her, but her wing twitches and she falls on the ground. At least she can stand in the snow due to being rather light. Or maybe it’s the cloudwalking thing?

“Looks like a frozen hoof,” Vinyl replies, throwing it away. She looks into the pit. “Hell, there’s a rest of that frozen wanker here…” Suddenly, she faints.

Daring Do, now armed in sunglasses and a warm coat walks into the pit in the snow to take a look. I join her, sliding slightly in my snowshoes. The body next to Vinyl is blue and completely frozen. Seems like it’s been there for some time. The mare doesn’t have any clothes and has a rather calm expression.

Well, I’ve heard that freezing to death is actually pretty nice, but she took that idea and ran with it. Without bothering with a thought of some idiots who would find her body one day, having no idea how to bury her. The ground is frozen, so the only thing we can do is to put her back in the snow or something.

“To think about it, we can stay in here,” Daring Do says. “The snow, except of the outer layer, is pretty hard. The only thing we need is some roof.”

“How about the body?” I ask, poking Vinyl with my hoof.

“It’s dead.” Daring Do scratches the snowy wall. “It can’t do anything to us. We’ll make it a crypt.”

Inkie jumps into the ditch. “I’d like to point out that we’ve been attacked by mummies on our way here. They seemed pretty dead to me.”

Hexie walks to us, carrying the tents and some firewood. “Oh, don’t worry about that. I know a ritual to keep the ghosts off.”

We look at her blankly.

“It involves food and vodka.” Hexie clears her throat. “Zamknijcie drzwi do kaplicy i stańcie dokoła truny!” She smiles sheepishly. “No?”

“Not really.” Daring Do rolls her eyes.

It takes us a few hours to set up a tent. First we dig a crypt in the wall and hide the body in it. If it ever wants to come back, it’ll have a hard time unfreezing. Then we get our tents and the rest of the stuff into the entrenched position near the plane. After some digging, our whole camp fits nicely in this big hole. Guess that if we have to stay for longer, we’ll build a big igloo or something. Way more practical than tents.

“Okay,” Daring Do says when we all sit around the campfire. She turns to me. “Where is that ancient town?”

“Why are you looking at me?” I ask. “It’s not like I have a map of the whole continent in my head.”

“Bastet didn’t tell you the location?” Daring Do sighs.

“Well, we have a map.” Vinyl produces a large piece of paper. “It’s shit, though. Lots of places are blank.”

“Maybe we should go in there?” Inkie whispers.

Daring Do looks at her. “Good plan. Tomorrow we dig out the plane and check every place that is not on the map. I’ll check other places, so we cover more area that way.”

"Wait, your wings healed already?" Trixie asks.

"Wonders of pegasus genes." Daring Do grits her teeth. "And painkillers."

“We’ll waste a lot of fuel that way,” Hexie mutters. “Unless we contact Lyra somehow and tell her to bring a ship here or something. But it’ll take weeks.”

“We’ll do that too,” Daring Do says. “We do need more backup.” She stares into the fire. “Though now I think how to deal with Aryanne and company once they find us.”

“How do you know they will?” I ask.

“Exactly,” Trixie says. “Last time we met them, Trixie gave them a nice fireshow.”

“Someone will remember a bunch of idiots trying to buy winter clothes in South Zebrica,” Daring Do replies. “Caballeron is intelligent. If he hears about what we bought, he’ll know that we can go to three places in the world: North Pole, South Pole, and Yakyakistan.”

Trixie nods. “So, since we’ve been going south all the time…”

“Yeah.” Ruby shrugs. “We’re lucky Daring Do is not chasing us.”

“Shit,” Vinyl says. “You should’ve told me that before. I’d buy a million pairs of sunglasses, a parade float, and a didgeridoo, just to fuck with them.” She throws some wood into the fire.

Daring Do raises her eyebrows. Then she grabs her notebook and writes something in it.

“Okay,” I say. “Before we give Daring more ideas for new books, I think it’s better to go to sleep. After all, we’re gonna do some patrolling tomorrow.”

“Is that supposed to be tomorrow?” Ruby asks, looking at the snow below us. “It’s still dark.”

“Polar night,” I reply. “It’s gonna be dark till winter. That is, July.” I look at her expression. “Southern hemisphere. Remember that the planet tumbles.”

“Hey, how about this pillar of ice?” Vinyl asks, drawing something on the map. “May be an ancient phallic symbol.”

“Nah, It’s just a pillar, I think.” I shrug and lower the plane a bit. “Unless the whole town is under the snow. In this case, we’re fucked.”

“Meh.” Vinyl writes something on the map. “I hereby call it ‘Camel’s Dick’.”

I turn to her. “Why camels? None live here, I think.”

“Polar bear then.”

“They don’t live here either,” Ruby says. “They are in the north, Miss Cheerilee told us about that. All they have here are penguins.”

Vinyl groans. “That’s it? I hoped for something more exciting. How about giant, flesh-eating penguins?”

“Shut up, please,” I say. “Things you’re saying have an alarming tendency to come true and giant, flesh-eating penguins are the last thing I need in my life.”

“What if they learned to fly?” Vinyl asks. “Or maybe they’re zombie penguins, controlled by some entity from outer space…”

“Shut the fuck up,” I mutter, taking a sharp turn, partially to throw her at the wall. “I don’t need no zombie penguins, voodoo sharks, or motherfucking snakes on this plane and I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t want it either, given that your usual reaction to danger is shitting yourself and running away.”

“I don’t recall shitting myself,” Vinyl scoffs. “You, however…”

I have to think for a while to remember that episode. “I technically died on that day and only came back because I saw you attempting the CPR.”

“So, I saved your life,” Vinyl says. “And then again, when I found the gorillas, not to mention a few more instances.”

I roll my eyes. Seriously, what does she want? “Well, you’re saving me from trouble I wouldn’t have if I didn’t know you!”

“Hey, what is that?” Ruby asks, pointing at something in the snow.

“What?” I ask.

“Big cunt made of shit,” Ruby replies. “Nothing, in fact. I just wanted you to shut the fuck up while I’m enjoying this pure landscape without any dumb fucks living in a thousand-mile radius.”

Vinyl looks at me. “I’m pretty sure your daughter could work on her vocabulary.”

“Yeah, she repeats herself,” I mutter. “But she’s right, if you keep talking about fucking zombie penguins, we’ll miss something important.”

“Well, but she’s also right in that there’s nothing here but snow.” Vinyl lifts her glasses and looks at the map. “And a few objects I drew and named: Valley Full of Shite, Fucking Rock of Sucking Cock, A Good Place for Getting Drunk, Another Good Place for Getting Drunk, That One Place Where Penguins Go to Fuck, Toilet for the Giants, Polar Bear’s Dick, and Mount Celestia.”

“Future generations will be grateful for this contribution to this continent’s geography,” I say. “Let’s see if Daring has something.” I click some buttons on the radio. “Hello, Daring Do! Birds are singing, sun is shining, did you get something?”

“Frostbitten arse!” Daring’s voice explodes from the speakers. “There’s nothing here but snow and shit!”

“Well, that’s an improvement,” Vinyl replies. “We only have snow.”

“I’m going back to the base.” Daring Do’s voice sounds like she has a sore throat. “Stay there as long as you can.”

“Stay there as long as you can, my ass,” Vinyl mutters when Daring’s voice disappears in static. “I’m hungry and it’s not much warmer in here. Can we fake a little mechanical failure and go back to the base?”

“Sure,” I reply. “One frostbitten arse a day is enough, I think.”

To think about it, we need to watch out for ourselves. After all, I’m pregnant and it’s not getting better for the next eighteen years, to say the least. Not to mention that while our group includes ponies of all talents, including a travelling magician and a DJ, we somehow forgot to find a proper doctor. The closest we got are Inkie, who can nurse you back to health, but can’t patch up anyone, and Hexie whose universal cure for everything is vodka and a kind word. And I can’t drink vodka.

About half an hour later, we are back next to our ditch. The landing is much softer now, as we evened out the snow. If it were to stay here for a few more years, we’d probably end up with a proper town, with its own railway station, hoofball team, Barnyard Bargains store, and a cart track.

“Wonder what they’re doing,” Vinyl mutters, putting on the thickest coat we have. “I hope it was Trixie’s turn to make dinner. I like my food not smelling of rocks or motor oil.”

As we get closer to the camp, we hear some kind of ruckus going on inside. Did someone attack our friends? I don’t see any airships around, but I drop on the snow and crawl closer. Vinyl and Ruby follow me.

“Trixie! Don’t do that!” Hexie’s scream drowns in the sound of Trixie’s magic.

“Did Trixie get it?”

“You got my leg, kurwa!” Hexie yells. “Pierdolony chory kurwiszon…”

“I got it!” Inkie shouts. Then we hear the sound of something heavy hitting the ground. “No, I don’t…”

I crawl closer, listening to Hexie’s long rant in which she explains Inkie and Trixie that they both can go and suck numerous dicks while she takes care of the situation herself. Which she now can’t do because Trixie injured her leg and Inkie somehow managed to kick her in the ribs.

I take a peek at the camp. Something blue is jumping around it, swiftly avoiding both Trixie’s magic and Inkie’s punches. Both Inkie and Hexie have holes burned in their clothes – a clear sign that Trixie isn’t very careful with her aiming.

“What’s going on here?” Ruby jumps into the ditch, getting her BB gun ready. Just great. All we needed were bullet wounds.

The blue thing jumps high into the air as Ruby aims at it. A pellet throws the thing backwards at the snow, but it doesn’t give a damn. Instead, it just bounces off and smacks Ruby in the face.

Vinyl stands up and looks down “Is it…”

“Is it what?” I ask.

“The hoof of that dead wanker we buried,” Vinyl replies. “I may have accidentally thrown it into the fire.”

“So it can survive death, being frozen, burned, shot, and tackled to the ground by Inkie,” I mutter, watching as Inkie rolls in the snow. “What should we do about it?”

“Freeze it again?” Vinyl shrugs. “It worked for the first time.”

“Yeah,” I mutter. “Let’s see if I can–”

“The Great and Powerful Trixie can’t be fooled by a dumb limb thingy!” Trixie yells. I look at her and see that she’s levitating a cauldron, rushing to the dismembered hoof, who is currently jumping between Hexie and Inkie, probably trying to make them ram into each other. Fat chance – they keep the distance, since Ruby shoots at it constantly.

Trixie lets out a powerful scream, and drops a cauldron at the hoof. It bangs against the metal, but Trixie puts the iron cover on the dish and holds it firmly in her magical embrace.

“Not bad,” Hexie mutters. “Shall I get an arc welder?”

I get down to the camp. “Hello,” I say, smiling. “How was your day?”

Hexie gives me a heavy glare. “Boss, with all due respect, stick such jokes up your ass.” She sighs. “We’ve been fighting this thing for the last few hours.” She points at the cauldron. The hoof is still banging at it.

Inkie shrugs. “I guess it wants to get to the rest of the body. Maybe we should dig it out?”

Ruby groans. “If that was just the hoof, imagine how is the rest. It may absorb us or something.”

Vinyl smirks. “We’ll never know if we don’t try. Maybe the rest is wiser? It has a head. And a pussy.”

Trixie looks at Vinyl and only shakes her head. Hexie is much more vocal in her opinions.

“Can I look for another job, far away from this place and her?” she asks. “I’m experienced, know three lan-goo-ah-guess…”

“Languages,” I mutter.

Hexie sighs. “Two languages and some messy thing where words are not pronounced the way they should be.”

“Messy thing?” Daring Do lands next to Hexie and rubs her sides with her wings. “What happened?”

“We caught a hoof from outer space.” Vinyl points at the cauldron in Trixie’s hooves.

Daring Do rolls her eyes and walks to the cauldron. “I’m gonna use a vocabulary you guys understand: you’re fucking with me, right?”

The cauldron shakes. Trixie grabs it harder and says, “Why would we?”

“I know you all too well,” Daring replies. “Show me what’s inside.”

Trixie sighs. “Okay, but you’ll catch it again.” She lifts the cover. A second later, the blue hoof smacks Daring Do in the face and runs away, towards the snowy wall.

“What the–” Daring rushes to grab the hoof, but it’s too fast. It rams into the snow, causing some hardened pieces to fall off, revealing the rest of the frozen body. One more punch and it falls on the ground. The hoof turns to us, as if it was checking what we’re doing, then goes to its place in front of the pony.

With the sound resembling cracking ice, the body unfreezes, changing into a blue, gelatinous pony who stands on its wobbly legs and looks at us. All its organs, including eyes, mane, and tail are made of this semi-transparent substance.

After a while of standing there and moving its snout as if it was sniffing, it trots to us. Well, “trots” is not a good word. Just like Bastet, the way this thing moves is slightly off, as if it was more used to crawling like an amoeba than walking on four legs.

“Don’t worry, I’ve seen such things before,” Daring Do says. “Though it’s probably closer to gelatinous cubes than slithering trackers…”

“It doesn’t look like a cube,” Inkie mutters. “And didn’t they eat ponies?”

“Nah, that’s one of the intelligent ones,” Daring Do replies. “Probably some domesticated subspecies of Gelatinum shoggothi. It has seen ponies before, given the shape it uses.”

The blue thing forms a hole in the place where its mouth should be. “Gah!” it says.

“Gah, gah, motherfucker,” Ruby replies.

“Trrg?” the thing asks. “Tekeli-li?” It tries to furrow its eyebrows but fails, owing to the lack of them. “Khyrla krtnnxzpvwds?” Some portion of jelly inside of it moves upwards.

“It’s trying all the languages it knows and rebuilds its articulators to try another set,” Daring Do says. “Monks from the Gelding Grotto have a similar thing. It’s thousands years old, but all it says are corny jokes.”

“No wonder.” Vinyl nods. “They’re probably older than Celestia.”

“Zy’r prbbl oldr zn Clsta,” the thing says.

“Vowels,” I mutter. “You can use them.”

The jelly makes a sound as if someone farted underwater. “I apologise for the minor inconvenience caused by my attempts to understand you,” it says with an accent resembling Octavia. “I initially did not realise that speaking your language does not require three tongues and a prehensile penis.”

“Holy shit, it talks.” Hexie chuckles. “Say, pierdol się, złamasie...”

The creature makes a sound that could pass as a pretty good sigh. “Zdaje sobie pani sprawę, że próby sprawienia by cudzoziemiec wypowiedział słowo uznawane powszechnie za wulgarne zdecydowanie nie jest oznaką dobrych manier? To mówiąc, proponuję, aby chwilowo przymknęła pani jadaczkę.”

“Whoa…” Daring Do stares at the creature. “Do you know any other languages?”

“All of them.”

“Do you have a name?” I ask. Seriously, I’m tired of referring to it as “creature”. I’m not even sure if it’s a mare or stallion – sure it looks more feminine, but who can tell how amorphous blobs of jelly make babies?

Speaking of which, I’d eat a jelly baby. I guess my cravings kick in.

“My previous master used to call me Blkkrrr’nt’fn.”

“Blackcurrant Muffin?” Ruby smirks. “You’d better get used to that name, because there’s no way we can pronounce it properly.”

“From the context, I suppose that you mean a nutrition item. Is that how your species calls themselves?” Blackcurrant Muffin asks.

“Not necessarily,” Ruby says. “I’m named after a gem, Vinyl and Inkie are named after household items, Daring Do after her traits, and Minuette and Hexie after some random shit.”

“She doesn’t mean it literally,” I say, seeing Blackcurrant Muffin’s jaw drop. “Also, Ruby, I’d like to remind you, once and for all, that I’m named after a dance. Got it?”

“Yeah.” Hexie sighs. “And my name is Hexagon Nut. That’s a figure and food, that happen to make an iron thingy used to screw things. Just something I do. While being slightly nuts.”

“Intentionally using words with two meanings to confuse the interlocutor. Interesting,” Blackcurrant Muffin says.

“Yeah,” Daring Do mutters. “We’ll talk linguistics later. I’d like to know something more about your master. Did he live in a town?”

“Using a male pronoun is probably a bit of a stretch, given that the society I lived in had thirty two sexes, which was why the couples had to go for a date marching in formation.”

“Shit…” Vinyl mutters. “No wonder they’re not around anymore. Imagine you can’t find the last guy…”

“Trixie thinks that’d require a lot of screwing around.”

Vinyl looks at Trixie and chuckles.

“Don’t mention they died out,” Daring Do whispers. “We shouldn’t shock her like that…”

Blackcurrant Muffin waves her hoof. “Well, to be honest, I calculated that such a social system could only last for about five hundred more years. Given that an unfortunate accident left me frozen for at least five million years, it comes to me as no surprise that my master and his kind are no longer among the living.” She makes a wet sigh. “On a side note, why did you assume I am a female? We were bred to do all the kinds of jobs for our masters. Technically, we were intelligent dough.”

“Don’t take the ‘muffin’ thing too personally.” Vinyl chuckles.

Blackcurrant Muffin just stares at her blankly. “I neither understand, nor appreciate your sense of humour.”

“Well, that’s a thing you have in common with like, half of the world,” Ruby says.

Blackcurrant Muffin nods. “Don’t mind me. I wasn’t created to do that.”

“Were you created to show us the way to the ancient town where you used to live?” Daring Do asks. “We’d be very grateful.”

“It is a long way.” Blackcurrant Muffin gets out of the ditch surprisingly fast for a pony-shaped blob of jelly. “Shall we go there now?”

“We won’t be going there by hoof,” I say, pointing at the plane. “Does this town have enough even space for the great metal bird to land?”

“You mean the plane?” Blackcurrant Muffin smiles. “The town’s airport could fit much bigger ones. Though most of them were Golden Condors from the north.”

“I think we saw one of them,” Daring Do says. “Okay girls, pack up things, we’re going to town!”

“So, Muffin, you have a lot of catching up to do,” Vinyl says. In the warmth of the plane, Blackcurrant Muffin got a bit more transparent and probably softer, but I guess on cold days she can be mistaken for a crystal pony. During the heat, she probably dissolves.

“Catching up?” she asks. “I’m pretty sure your culture can’t be superior to mine. At least not yet, given that creating organisms to serve you is something you’re not familiar with.”

“Nah, we invented ethics committees first,” I reply. “Given the existence of Aryanne, at least some of us got around to cloning.”

“Also, I’m fine with what we have,” Hexie says, clicking some buttons on the wall of the cockpit. “We invented the wheel and since then we’re going in circles.”

“I thought we were flying?”

“It’s a pun,” Vinyl mutters. “As for catching up, you need to know that we invented telharmonium and theremin. We were playing with tapes and then some Prench dude invented musique concrete. Nothing to do with concrete, by the way. Then someone invented the synthesisers, and everything went fast from there. We had cool bass, and–”

“Are you seriously teaching her about electronic music?” Inkie rolls her eyes. “At least mention hard rock.”

“Well, you’re the softest of hard rock girls, but you can tell her about it,” Vinyl replies.

Inkie clears her throat. “So, a rock fell on the ground first and that’s how we discovered drums. Then we rolled from there, discovering that if a rock fell on a cat, it’d scream beautifully and then we could gather the guts and make strings out of them. We invented guitars and bass guitars, then someone decided that you could connect them to magic and that metal strings were much better since we wouldn’t run out of the cats so fast. With more power, we could use power chords and–”

I pull the plane up to avoid hitting the mountain peaks. “Would you kindly focus on steering?” I ask Inkie. “I know you’d like to tell her more once you have a chance, but if we crash, you won’t be able to tell her anything.”

“Why?” Blackcurrant Muffin asks.

“Because unlike sentient blobs of jelly, we can cease to function indefinitely if we crash,” Trixie says, levitating a deck of cards. “Do you want to see a magic trick?”

“Fifty-two pieces of laminated cardboards with four symbols, numbers, and depictions of ponies on them.” Blackcurrant Muffin nods. “Do they have some ritual meaning?”

“Nah, we just use them for entertainment,” Trixie replies. “Trixie thinks that word doesn’t exist in your vocabulary yet.”

“Ah, so it’s like fights of–” Blackcurrant Muffin says some word that is completely impossible to say, unless the speaker has two mouths and is able to fart some of the consonants.

“More or less.” Hexie nods. “We play games with them. Like poker, mau-mau, solitaire, three-card Monte, shithead, dupa biskupa, gin rummy, or skat.”

Vinyl blinks. “Can you repeat that last one?”

Hexie smacks herself in the forehead. “Skat. With ‘k’ in the middle, you shithead.”

Blackcurrant Muffin rubs her temples. “Too many words with double meanings. I don’t get it.”

“Welcome to the club,” Daring Do mutters.

Huh. Apparently Blackcurrant Muffin learned to sigh with utter despair after only a few hours with us. “Do you mean club as a wooden stick, an association of ponies with common interest, a place of social gatherings, or–”

“The second one.” Daring Do shakes her head. “Have you ever heard about context?”

“The relevant constraints of the communicative situation that influence language use, language variation, and discourse summary?”

“Yes, that. But can you use it?” Daring Do asks.

“I’m not sure.” Blackcurrant Muffin drops on the floor, losing some of her pony shape. In other words, her legs kinda melt.

“Just great.” Daring Do turns to Vinyl and Hexie. “The product of ancient civilisation far more advanced than us and we broke her almost immediately.”

“It’s like with speakers,” Vinyl says. “Old ones can last for centuries, but new ones, with more electronic shit in them break once the warranty ends.” She hugs Blackcurrant Muffin, levitating a cigarette. “Hey, girl, wanna smoke?”

“I’d rather not inhale any poisonous substances, thank you.” Blackcurrant Muffin replies weakly.

“Or maybe…” Vinyl leans to her and kisses her. Suddenly, Blackcurrant Muffin’s tongue changes shape, penetrating the inside of Vinyl’s mouth while she holds her tightly with her arms. Vinyl thrashes, muttering something incomprehensible.

Hexie doesn’t even have time to kick Blackcurrant Muffin when she retreats. An off-white blob of jelly appears in her mouth before moving in the place where her stomach would be.

Vinyl spits on the floor. “What the fuck was that?”

“I found DNA in your saliva compatible,” Blackcurrant Muffin replies. I guess if she could blush, she’d do just that.

“Compatible for what?”

“Recombination,” Blackcurrant Muffin replies, looking at the white sphere inside of her. “Now it’ll grow and in two weeks the bud will separate and start living on its own. It may display some of your traits.”

“Congratulations, daddy.” Trixie pats Vinyl’s back.

“Assuming the DNA in her mouth was hers…” I mutter.

“Eww…” Daring Do and Inkie both wince.

I use a moment of silence to take a look at the ground below us. I blink, trying to pierce the snowstorm below us with my gaze. Too bad I see only the outlines of some shit at best. Whether those are rocks, glaciers, or something else, I can’t tell from here.

Blackcurrant Muffin pulls herself together and looks outside the window. She furrows her eyebrows. I’m pretty sure she didn’t have them a while ago, but I guess she’s getting better at parroting our expressions. Her first attempts at that were pretty creepy – just like Bastet, she didn’t see many ponies after assuming that shape.

“It is the town,” she says.

“How can you say?” Daring Do asks.

“I sense its electromagnetic patterns,” Blackcurrant Muffin replies. “You can’t do that?”

“No, we don’t have electroreceptors,” I reply, holding the rudders to fight the wind as we go lower. “Where can we land?”

“Just go straight,” Blackcurrant Muffin replies. “The airstrip was big enough for Agni’s vimana during the Tarakamaya battle and later it host many of what you may know as Ezekiel-class spaceships.”

“Sorry, we know neither Agni nor Ezekiel,” Daring Do replies. “Were they even ponies?”

Before Blackcurrant Muffin can reply, the whole plane shakes. I can hear Ruby yelling at the back; something about me and Inkie being inbred retards who can’t even steer the plane without killing everyone or something. I wonder if that makes her a second-generation inbred retard.

The powerful gust of wind nearly causes us to hit some column. Who the hell puts columns near an airport? And don’t tell me their old flying thingies didn’t have wings that could hit something. That golden condor had wings, right?

Inkie screams, yanking the steering column upwards. The plane shakes, but yet again, the snow cushions the fall slightly. It still causes Blackcurrant Muffin to fly across the cockpit and splash on the wall. Literally. The whole thing and all the instruments are covered in jelly. One of the windows cracks as we skid to a halt, spinning after hitting something that was mostly buried under the snow.

One of the engines makes a weird noise. Hexie immediately turns both of them off and we stop completely.

“Everyone’s okay?” Inkie’s voice sounds weird. For a moment I think my hearing is damaged but then I realise that Trixie is lying on her.

“It’s the last time I land with you,” Daring Do mutters. “Next time, I’m leaving before landing and watch you crash.”

“My ass…” Vinyl groans. I can still hear Ruby calling us a bunch of cocksuckers and whatnot, so I guess she’s fine.

“Yeah, I totally love installing new windows,” Hexie says, pointing at the cracked glass. “Also, I guess one of the propellers is screwed. I can repair it, but I’m not sure how’s the rest of the wing.”

I barely listen to her, stumbling to the door. I open it and dart outside to throw up. As I stop retching, I turn back to see everyone staring at me.

“Motion sickness?” Trixie asks. Daring Do takes off to kick some of the clouds away from the town. Good idea. I’m most definitely not into snow.

Inkie shrugs. “Pregnancy?”

“Both,” I reply, spitting on the ground. I take a look around and it occurs me that I should probably watch out what I’m spitting at.

We’re at the end of a long, flat runway, right next to something that looks like a palace made of crystals and gold, if such palaces were made with flying in mind. Most of it is crushed, though; as if some giant sat on it. I immediately look for the giant, but there are none in sight. Instead, I see the rows after rows of buildings. Empty and scorched, but I can still imagine how they used to look. There’s a lot of debris around, which makes me think that they used to be taller. Several spires can be seen in the distance, glowing in the faint light that seems to be coming from the inside of them.

Is there someone alive there? Or maybe some machinery still works there after all those years? I shudder, remembering the monstrous hamster wheel from the temple where we found the golden condor.

“Hey, look at that!” Vinyl points at something. “It’s another golden condom!”

Right in time. There’s indeed a golden condor there, half-buried in the snow. It looks like someone tore a hole in its side, revealing some mechanisms I’ve never seen before. What the hell happened here?

“That’s one hell of an ancient dumpster.” Ruby jumps out of the plane and picks up some random piece of debris. “Where’s Blackcurrant Muffin? Maybe she’d make sense of it.”

“She’s all over the cockpit,” Hexie replies. “And some was in my mouth, I think.”

I hear some sucking noise and then I see Blackcurrant Muffin sliding to us. Most of her body looks pony-like, but her legs are still not there.

“Ah.” Trixie smirks. “You got yourself together.”

“I wish I could appreciate that joke as much as you expect me to.” Blackcurrant Muffin looks at the remains of the crystal palace. “I see Chclttpdng eventually crashed his vimana.”

“I’m afraid Chocolate Pudding may be dead for ages,” I say.

“I am physically unable to feel sad because of this loss.” Blackcurrant Muffin sighs.

“Really?” I ask.

“No. He was a bad master. Strwbrsnde gave me the ability to feel, but the others thought he was really eccentric in his approach towards his slaves.”

Daring Do lands next to us. “I’m afraid we may have a bigger problem than Strawberry Sundae’s eccentricity.”

Hexie nods. “Yeah, digging in all that snow…”

“Fuck snow.” Daring Do grabs binoculars from the pocket of her shirt and gives them to me. “Look at that mountain pass.”

I take a look. Hell, indeed. At the top of the pass I see four silhouettes of ponies wearing skis and leather suits. Stars reflect in black-tinted lenses of their goggles and they’re pointing at the town in the dale.

Even from this distance, I can easily recognise Aryanne, Kyrie, Kloppenfuhrer and Dr. Caballeron.

Author's Note

Zamknijcie drzwi do kaplicy i stańcie dokoła truny! - "Close the chapel's door and stand around the coffin!" Hexie has the romantic literature of her country covered.

Pierdolony chory kurwiszon… - "Fucking sick whore-gherkin". Yes, it's an actual word.

Zdaje sobie pani sprawę, że próby sprawienia by cudzoziemiec wypowiedział słowo uznawane powszechnie za wulgarne zdecydowanie nie jest oznaką dobrych manier? To mówiąc, proponuję, aby chwilowo przymknęła pani jadaczkę. - "You do realise, madam, that attempts to make a foreigner say a word generally considered vulgar is definitely not a sign of good manners? This being said, I propose you to shut your mouth."

All the card games mentioned by Hexie actually exist You'd better not think too hard about existence of bishops in Equestria.

For informations about vimanas and Tarakamaya battle, consult Mahabharata. For Ezekiel-class spaceships, go and ask that ancient aliens dude with weird hair. Or Erich von Daniken.

I just looked into the face of one of these creatures and I am afraid that I have gone temporarily insane.

“Well, we need a plan,” Daring Do says. “Or rather, a change in our plan that’d include those three. What do we do?”

“Wait, we had a plan?” I ask. “As for me, I’m gonna go back to the plane and get the rifle. When they’re closer, I’ll shoot Aryanne in the knee and slow them down.”

“We’ll need our weapons, sure.” Daring nods. “Also, you should rather shoot her in the head.”

I sigh. “I don’t shoot ponies in the head… on purpose.”

“Trixie thinks Daring has a point,” Trixie says. “If you shot her in the knee, you’d leave her to slowly die in a hostile environment. Much worse than a quick headshot.”

“Ah, how nice. Your kind developed ethics to the point where a decision that seems less ethical at first is actually better.” Blackcurrant Muffin shrugs. “So, are your weapons able kill them now or only after they come here?”

“We’re not going to kill them,” Inkie replies.

“Why?” Blackcurrant Muffin asks. “You’ve just proved that’d be more humane.”

“Not to mention more convenient.” Hexie smirks.

“Also, the word is ‘equine’,” Vinyl mutters, shuddering slightly. Although it’s not snowing, it’s still pretty cold in here. I wonder how cold is up there, where Aryanne and the gang are. Maybe that’s why they haven’t noticed us yet.

“I’ll get our weapons,” I say, seeing that my friends are about to start a discussion about ethics of killing one’s enemies. Since no one protests, I teleport away.

The first thing I notice after appearing in the plane is how much warmer it is inside. My teachers warned us to be prepared for different conditions in the start and destination places, but since I can only teleport within a bull’s roar, it never mattered to me much. I look into the boxes and grab my rifle, Vinyl’s shotgun, and the gun we got from Aryanne. We have ammo for most of them, even for the gun, so I pack it into the saddlebags. After a while, I find Inkie’s crystal gun, so I grab it too. Ruby already has the BB gun with her, so I guess that’s all.

For a moment, I wonder if I could dismantle one of the autocannons Hexie installed in the plane and give it to her. She’s probably strong enough to handle it as a regular weapon. Though on a second thought, we don’t need that much firepower. Especially not in Hexie’s hooves. I don’t need a new anus, thank you.

Once I’m ready, I teleport back to my friends. Or rather some twenty metres from them. It’s hard to focus on your destination when everything around looks more or less the same and focusing on the group as your target can end with teleporting into someone’s stomach.

“So, let me rephrase,” Blackcurrant Muffin says, shaping a part of her face into eyebrows to furrow them. “You don’t kill other ponies, even when they try to kill you. How are you even alive?”

“We have other means to deal with them,” Inkie replied. “Like kind words and ass kicking.” She blushes so hard it could melt snow.

Blackcurrant Muffin turns towards me. She’s covered in frost, which makes her look like a glass pane in winter. “And yet you carry instruments of murder. At least I think that’s what they are.”

I give the shotgun to Vinyl and throw the crystal gun to Inkie. No one in sight has balls, so it won’t fire anyway. I take a look at Aryanne’s gun and at the rest of my friends. I guess Daring is the only one I’d trust with it, but Blackcurrant Muffin walks to me and grabs it.

“How does it work?” she asks, looking into the barrel.

“You pull this and it lights gunpowder on fire. Then the gunpowder explodes and throws a ball of lead at you. Which you don’t want to happen to your head.”

“That’s it?” She shrugs and gives the gun to Daring Do. “Why yours look different?”

“It’s enough,” I reply. “Mine shoots at further distances. Vinyl’s shotgun throws more pellets to compensate for her crappy aim, Ruby has a training rifle working on compressed air, and Inkie’s gun casts a spell that can fry someone’s balls.”

“That does not sound very lethal…”

“But it’s painful,” I mutter. “Also, ‘balls’ is a slang for male reproductive organs.”

Blackcurrant Muffin shrugs. “And you consider that more humane than killing?”

“And funnier,” Vinyl says. “Also, I guess we could just dig a hole in the snow and try to reach the town before they even get here. All they’ll see will be the tops of the buildings.”

“That’d be easier if we had an excavator.” Daring Do sighs.

“Well, I do have some experience in digging,” Blackcurrant Muffin says. “Also, if you don’t kill ponies, how about other races? Are griffons and zebras still a thing?”

“Killing griffons and zebras?” Vinyl asks. “Well, that’s debatable.”

“Racist,” Trixie mutters.

Vinyl shrugs. “I’m just pointing out that it’d be easier for me to shoot someone who doesn’t look like me or my uncle…”

“You’d better not share that opinion in a polite company.” Daring Do turns to Blackcurrant Muffin. “And you’d better dig instead of teaching us about morals.”

“Sure.” Blackcurrant Muffin’s front hooves change their shape. Soon, they look more like a pair of shovels. I don’t have time to take a closer look, since she starts moving them with an inequine speed, throwing large chunks of snow into the air. The whole place looks like the snowstorm came back; Blackcurrant Muffin almost completely disappears in the hole that gets deeper with her every move. We look at each other. Can sentient blobs of jelly even get tired?

“I reached the street!” Blackcurrant Muffin shouts from the bottom of the well she dug. “Is that enough?”

“Pretty much,” Daring Do replies. “I guess someone should stay here while the rest would explore the town.”

“I’m staying,” Hexie says. “I’d rather be in the plane when those genetic experiments find it.”

Vinyl looks into the hole and shudders. “I don’t like it. Can I stay with Hexie?”

“I’m going!” Ruby exclaims. “This looks like some cool place.”

“You’re not going,” I reply.

“Blow me.” Ruby tries to teleport to the bottom of the hole. She almost manages to do that, ending up about two metres above it, half-buried in the snow.

“Come back here!” I shout.

“I can’t teleport!”

“Yeah, sure. I know you can.”

Ruby chuckles, jumping down on the street. “Come and get me!”

I teleport to the bottom of the pit. More exactly, I somehow teleport inside of Blackcurrant Muffin, but she quickly pulls herself together.

“Ruby, you’re going back,” I say.

“There’s no way I’m teleporting with you,” Ruby replies. “Your accuracy got worse.”

“One day we’ll use you as a bait for monsters,” I mutter, watching as Daring Do flies down, carrying Inkie and Trixie with her. Their combined weight reduces her flying skills to a parachute, but after all, they only have to go down to us.

“Okay,” Daring Do says when they land. “Where are we going now?”

“The door.” Blackcurrant Muffin points out at the large trapdoor under her hooves. “It’s actually my master’s house. Most of it is underground.” She looks up. “Well, even more underground now.”

She steps off the trapdoor and touches a small crystal next to it. Whatever device it is, it still works. With a terrible screech, the door opens, engulfing us in a cloud of dust. Holy shit, it smells! I cough, covering my face.

“What is that?” Trixie groans. “Did something die here?”

“Mistress…” Blackcurrant Muffin jumps into the underground room. It has no stairs to speak of – I guess creatures that used to live here didn’t need them. We climb inside and immediately we’re greeted with a view of some half-rotten half-dried creature with a long, sturdy body and several tentacles that’d probably fall apart if someone touched them. Good thing it didn’t rot completely; as far as I can tell, this thing was an invertebrate, so there would be no skeleton left if it did.

The floor is covered with some unknown substance. I guess it used to be some kind of carpet, but after getting drenched with the dead creature’s fluids it nearly turned to stone. I can’t exactly see the walls of this chamber; either it’s that big, or it’s some weird angles again.

Blackcurrant Muffin sniffs and wipes her eyes, looking at the dead thing. I’m not sure if she does that because she’s sad or because she scanned our brains and knows that it’s something she should do.

“Do you know why I look like a pony?” she asks. Inkie walks to her and embraces her. “My master’s child kept them as pets, but they were dying quickly so she wanted me to look like one…”

“Quickly?” Trixie shudders.

“About eighty years,” Blackcurrant Muffin replies. “There they are.” She points at the ceiling. Far away from us, there’s a large, rusty cage hanging from it. Two pony skeletons hang from the bars – apparently they were trying to get out after everything went to hell, but never managed to do so and eventually starved.

“Holy shit, that’s creepy,” Ruby mutters. “Pretty metal, but still creepy as a hundred of fucks.”

“Cultural differences,” Daring Do replies. “We need to respect them.”

“Yeah, especially when someone keeps ponies in cages.” Ruby rolls her eyes. “Sombra was a fucking good guy, then. Also, they all died while we’re still here, so they were probably doing something wrong.”

“The conditions on the planet changed, I guess.” Daring Do looks around. “And other species bred faster.”

“That’s pretty much what happened,” Blackcurrant Muffin says. “By the time I got frozen, there were more servants like me than the masters.”

“There’s a lesson for Trixie here,” I mutter. “Too comfortable life may cause extinction.”

Trixie sighs. “Trixie uses everything in moderation. She knows where the line is and remembers not to cross it.”

“Your weight says otherwise,” Ruby mutters. A second later, she’s blasted back by magic.

“Hey!” I exclaim. “Leave my daughter alone. And you, Ruby, should apologise.”

Ruby replies with a suggestion that Trixie should stick her apology up her butt. Except she didn’t exactly say butt.

Inkie shakes her head. “Can we just stop arguing and admit that hard-working ponies from rock farms would survive the apocalypse?”

“Most likely,” I reply. “But how they’d repopulate the world with their shyness?”

“My sister would repopulate the world no matter how it’d scream and kick,” Inkie replies.

“You mean Maud?” Trixie asks.

“Her too.”

“Would you be quiet, please?” Blackcurrant Muffin stands in attention. “Something is alive here.”

“Just what I thought,” Daring Do mutters. “Of course when you’re in some ancient place where everything should die a long time ago, something is alive and hungry.” She turns to Blackcurrant Muffin. “Can you just lead us to the place where you keep the Stones of–”

Suddenly, she’s interrupted by a terrible roar. Trixie screams in response, somehow teleporting on the top of Inkie’s head. Ruby hides behind them, holding her BB gun in her hooves. I stand firmly, aiming my horn at whatever wants to come out of the darkness.

“Don’t worry,” Blackcurrant Muffin whispers before yelling something unpronounceable at the creature lurking in front of us. I’m not sure what it is, but I’d rather not see that in the light of day. With a sound resembling some old, battered machinery slowly falling apart as it moves, the creature slowly crawls off.

“What the hell was that?” Daring Do whispers, her hooves shuddering.

“One of the servants. It was responsible for cleaning the floors,” Blackcurrant Muffin replies. “We’re lucky it’s technically my house. I have no power over servants of other masters.”

“Shit…” I mutter, watching as Inkie collapses under Trixie’s weight. “A titanic vacuum cleaner. Friend of yours?”

“Not really.” Blackcurrant Muffin shrugs. “It possesses no intelligence to speak of. It only does what it is told to.”

“Ah. So it’s more like an appliance?” Inkie asks. “Are there more of them?” She lowers her voice to a whisper. “I nearly peed myself.”

“Well, such a physiological reaction would be understandable,” Blackcurrant Muffin replies. “And there’s lots of them. Back in my days an average household–”

“Yeah, that’s surely interesting,” Daring Do mutters. “Can we end that sentimental trip to your old house and just go to the place where we want to get?”

“You wanted to go to the town. We are in the town.”

Daring Do groans. Before anyone can react, she grabs the gun and shoots Blackcurrant Muffin.

Well, she could as well shoot a block of ballistic gel. The bullet gets stuck in Blackcurrant Muffin’s chest and it doesn’t even deform. However, the shot itself makes a lot of noise. What’s worse, something reacts to it. We hear a faint echo of some yelling and cries. I’d rather not meet the things that make that noise.

“What the fuck did you do?” I yell.

“I’m sorry!” Daring Do shouts. “She’s the only pony I can shoot when they annoy me.”

“That wasn’t nice.” Blackcurrant Muffin spits the bullet out. “Also, the noise this thing makes alarmed the guards.”

“Shit…” Ruby mutters. “Story of my fucking life.”

“Shouldn’t we run?” Inkie asks.

Blackcurrant Muffin shrugs. “That may give us a fake reassurance. They probably crawl faster than you can run.”

“Oh, fuck this, The Great and Powerful Trixie is already running!” Trixie indeed runs. Huh. I haven’t expected such a pace from her. Without a second thought I follow her.

“Didn’t you hear they can run faster than you?” Blackcurrant Muffin chases us. Well, at this point everyone is running, except of Daring Do who takes advantage of her wings.

“I don’t fucking give a flying fuck about that.” Ruby once again proves that she inherited her unusual language skills from her mother. “If I can run faster than any of you idiots, I’ll be fine with it.”

Something yells again, this time closer. Trixie turns to the source of the noise and fires a bolt of magic in its direction. The answer is more yelling, as well as the smell of burned jelly.

“Who are those guards?” I ask as we take a dive into a narrow corridor, leading us deeper into the ruins of the house.

“A certain kind of sentient fungi that only lives on the Outer Rim planets,” Blackcurrant Muffin replies. “After years of bioengineering–”

“Holy shit!” Daring Do yells, suddenly turning erratically in mid-air. She speeds up and rams into Trixie, who is falling behind. Their combined mass and the force of impact are enough to break some rachitic wall, bent at a weird angle in front of them. They fall through it, leaving a small hole.

“There!” Blackcurrant Muffin stops in place and turns towards the hole. For better or worse, Inkie, Ruby, and I obey and follow her in there. As soon as the last of us disappears in it, Blackcurrant Muffin grabs pieces of plaster, bricks, or whatever this wall was built of and seals the entrance with it. For a moment, it’s dark like in Sombra’s ass, but then I light up my horn.

“They can’t reach here,” Blackcurrant Muffin says. I notice that she’s not panting – in fact, she doesn’t breathe at all.

“I peed myself when we were running,” Inkie mutters.

“So you were lighter and could run faster.” Ruby rolls her eyes. “Does anyone have an idea how to get out of this place?”

“Well, I apologise for bringing you all here,” Daring Do says in a weird tone. “I just looked into the face of one of these creatures and I am afraid that I have gone temporarily insane.”

“Only now?” Trixie asks.

“Only temporarily?” Inkie scratches her head.

I stand up and walk to Daring Do. “Okay,” I mutter. “Though this be madness, yet there’s method in it. Where are we supposed to go?”

“Don’t worry,” Blackcurrant Muffin says. “If the guards find nothing, soon they’ll deactivate.”

I raise my hoof. “I’m asking Daring.”

Daring Do chuckles. “Funny thing, really. Have you ever heard of Stones of the Undead? That’s what we’re looking for, actually. The one who possesses them can raise an army of undead and take control of the immortal monsters that live beneath the sea. One who has them can rule the world.” She smiles. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

“Why the fuck would you want to do that?” Ruby asks. “This world is already screwed without an army of the undead. As Hexie would say, did you swap your head for your dick, or what?”

“I don’t have a dick.”

“That makes it even more worrying,” Ruby says.

“Also, if we don’t find it, Caballeron will.” Daring Do smiles at us. “So I want to find it and hide it better. So he wouldn’t put his hooves on it.” She nods. “Holy fuck, I’m such a genius.”

I look at Trixie, who looks back at me. I can read it in her eyes – Daring Do went totally bonkers. Not now, but much earlier.

“So, let me get this straight,” Inkie says, her voice quivering a little. “We’re in the ruins of an ancient town, buried under tons of snow, with dead bodies lying everywhere and pony-eating monsters roaming freely and you want to find a safer place?”

“Yes!” Daring Do exclaims.

“We already did,” Blackcurrant Muffin says.

Daring Do blinks and suddenly her happy expression falters. “You did what?” she asks in her normal voice.

“We hid it,” Blackcurrant Muffin replies. “As the Masters grew more powerful, they decided that such a powerful artifact couldn’t be kept among them or someone would eventually use it. So they sent it to Yuggoth and cursed this planet so none of them could land on it.”

“Very wise of them,” I say. “So, can we call off search and go back home?”

“Yuggoth is no longer a planet,” Ruby says. “It’s not bigger than Princess Luna’s fart.”

“That’s even better,” I say. “Harder to find.”

“Well, about that…” Blackcurrant Muffin says. “The Stones have to be contained and the spells keeping them stable need to be renewed once in a while. The Masters didn’t need spaceships to travel, but they couldn’t land on the planet, so they used unicorns.” She gulps. “Several spaceships are still in the town. I’m not sure but they may be fully operational and programmed to fly to Yuggoth.”

“Fuck,” I mutter. “Why can’t life be simple?”

“So, we need to contain the Stones, go back and destroy all the spaceships,” Daring Do says. “Where are they?”

“It’s too dangerous to go there from here,” Blackcurrant Muffin replies. “Let’s get back to the surface and dig another tunnel above the spaceport.”

“Well, at least the destroying part should be easy,” Inkie mutters. “We somehow became experts on that.”

“I guess it’s an allusion to some past event I’m not aware of,” Blackcurrant Muffin says. “I think the guards deactivated themselves. Let’s go.”

The way back was mostly uneventful, except of the part when Daring Do had to carry a rope for us to climb up the well. However, as we go back to the plane through the white, snowy lowland, we encounter something strange.

The snow that used to be pristine before we went down to the city, has been trampled by the hooves of numerous ponies. It also became pink and judging by the traces, several heavy objects were dragged away from the place where the fight took place. I’m pretty sure it was a fight. Not because it’s hardly possible to discern anyone’s hoofsteps in this mess.

It’s the three frozen bodies that gave me that idea.

I walk to the first one and poke it with my hoof. It’s no one I know, thought the white fur, blonde mane and the steel-blue winter uniform seem familiar. It seems that this guy’s hooves were all broken before someone finally snapped his neck.

I hear Trixie throwing up and I look in that direction. The other body is of a pegasus mare, kinda similar to Kyrie, except her eyes are blue. I can take an exact look because they’re no longer in her skull, lying in front of her. It seems that someone ripped her wing out first before stomping on the back of her skull.

“Hey, that’s cool!” Ruby exclaims. “Someone threw up here before.”

“No wonder,” I say, taking a look at the third corpse. Seems that this one managed to crawl for some time after his jaw was broken. Too bad that someone shoved a broken bottle down his throat afterwards.

“Who could that be?” Daring Do asks.

“I hope this thing didn’t get to Hexie and Vinyl…” Inkie whispers, sighing. She’s slowly digging in the snow next to the dead pegasus. Not sure if she wants to find something or bury her.

“Don’t look at me,” Blackcurrant Muffin says. “Most of the things that can be alive in the town wouldn’t leave a trace.”

Suddenly, something clicks in my head. “Of course,” I mutter, rushing towards the plane. I teleport to it again. This time, I land between Hexie and a bottle of vodka. It’s never a safe place, especially now when she’s using it to disinfect a deep cut in her hoof. And especially since she immediately grabs a lead pipe with a clear intention to adorn the walls with my brain.

“Chill out, it’s me,” I say, jumping back.

Hexie puts the lead pipe down. “They foalnapped Vinyl.”

“Shit,” I mutter. “Where’s she?”

Hexie shrugs. “No idea. Their airship must be somewhere here, but I was kinda busy with those guys.”

“We’ve noticed,” I reply. “What happened?”

Hexie grabs a box and opens it, looking inside. “We wanted to see if you’re back and then they suddenly were everywhere. Guess they wanted to take us alive, since they didn’t shoot us.” She puts the box down and grabs another one. “Of course Vinyl started to shoot magic everywhere, but they caught her in the net. I’m not sure one of those guys will be able to have children.”

“But of course.” I watch her grabbing thread and needle from the box. “What are you going to do with that?”

“Try to guess.” Hexie takes a swig of vodka, then dips the needle in it. “Their pegasi were trying to catch me in the net, but Kyrie screwed it up and tangled herself in it. Some mare wanted to shoot her, so I made a piece of modern art of her skull.”

“Ruby really appreciated it,” I mutter. “How about the rest?”

“That other guy wanted to tackle me, so I showed him that I mean business. He had a knife, though.” Hexie starts sewing her wound. I suddenly feel like throwing up. “The others ran away, when they saw what I did to him.”

“Ah, I see,” I say. “What about the one with the bottle?”

“He didn’t want to tell where their airship was.”

I shrug. “Perhaps you should’ve ask him about that before breaking his jaw.”

Hexie scratches her mane. “Of course. That’d make things easier.”

Someone knocks on the plane’s door. Hexie stands up, but I raise my hoof. “Don’t worry. It’s Daring, I guess.”

It takes me a while to tell the rest what happened. Daring Do sits calmly when I talk, but I can see she’s already plotting something. Ruby is much more pronounced in her actions; from the moves of her hooves, I can tell she wants to strangle someone.

“This needs to be a covert operation,” Daring Do says when I stop talking. “From what you’re saying, there’s a lot of them. We can’t just walk in, blow shit up, and think we can get away with it.”

“Why?” Hexie asks. “It worked pretty fine last time we did it.”

“Vinyl may be there,” Daring Do replies. “She’d probably prefer to have someone with brains to rescue her.”

“She’d prefer to fuck her way out,” I say. “But I can kinda see your point.”

“That’s why you’ll come with me.” Daring Do stands up. “The rest will stay back and intervene only if we give a signal.”

“Yeah,” I mutter. “And how are we gonna find them? Are you going to carry me all the way?” I look at my stomach. “Both of us, actually.”

“No problem.” Blackcurrant Muffin stands up. Her hooves morph; after a while, they look more like dog’s paws. “Does someone have a sleigh?”

“Give me an old crate and you’ll have one,” Hexie says. “Also, I’m going with you. Remember that I helped to build this airship and I know better than anyone where everything is.”

Well, to be exact, it was Cherry Berry who made it usable after I crash-landed the old thing in the lake, but Hexie and the rest of my workers took a big part in it. Later, it was probably rebuilt a few times by whoever Aryanne hired and it has hardly anything in common with the airship where I first met my mechanic two years ago. Still, if we are to permanently disable some machinery or some hapless guard, she may be useful.

A fifteen minutes later, Hexie and I are sitting on the sleigh pulled by Blackcurrant Muffin. Our new friend transformed herself to be much more streamlined, not resembling any creature walking on this planet. Daring Do flies slightly in front of us, searching for the airship. I put my sunglasses on, while Hexie grabs a pair of goggles – snow reflects the sun, nearly blinding us.

Suddenly, Daring Do stops in mid-air, turning to us and waving her hooves. Blackcurrant Muffin skids to a halt, throwing snow around. We take cover behind a pile of snow, just in case – while Hexie could be mistaken for a grey patch of snow from some distance, the same can’t be said about me, even in white jacket. Not to mention that Hexie’s orange mane looks more like a field of carrots.

Daring lands next to us. “They’re strapped to the rock about two miles from us,” she says. “As far as I can tell, there’s one guard in the observation deck around the engine gondola. The rest are probably observing the perimeter from the inside.”

“So, how do we get closer?” Hexie asks.

“How about digging a tunnel?” Blackcurrant Muffin scratches the snow with her front leg. “I can go quite deep so they don’t notice.”

“Sure, why not.” Daring Do watches as Blackcurrant Muffin changes from some terrible parody of a husky into a monstrous mole. One can get used to that, though it’s better not to pay attention to her body language in process, if only for the fact that there’s hardly any. Like, normal ponies move all the time, if only to keep their hooves from becoming stiff. Blackcurrant Muffin doesn’t.

She can, however, dig. Again, she drills a hole in the snow, disappearing from our eyes. We follow her as she pushes the white substance aside, walking much faster than any other pony.

“Do you think she knows where she’s going?” Hexie asks. I only shrug in reply. The tunnel isn’t big enough for Daring Do to fly, so she also struggles, trying to keep up with Blackcurrant Muffin.

“If she’s wrong, we’re gonna just dig ourselves into the sea.” Daring pants. “She may survive that, but we’ll stay frozen in the ice until the next archeologist digs us out.”

“If Aryanne succeeds, the next archeologist may have tentacles,” I reply, trying to catch my breath. Seriously, I already feel like there’s an alien parasite inside of me and it barely started.

Suddenly, Blackcurrant Muffin stops. “I can sense a high concentration of magnetic field above us,” she says. “I guess that’s the place.”

“Indeed,” Daring Do replies. “Now, we just have to get out of this tunnel and get on the airship unseen…”

I smirk. “How about being unnoticeable?”

“What’s the difference?” Daring Do asks.

“I know a spell for it,” I reply. “Everyone still sees you, but as long as you don’t fart in someone’s face or something, they won’t notice you.”

Daring Do nods. “Will do.”

I close my eyes, focusing on the spell. How did Trixie do that? I channel the energy, remembering just the right sequence of waves. My horn flashes and when I open my eyes, I see… Well, I see Hexie and Daring Do, but I don’t exactly notice where they are. Blackcurrant Muffin is still visible; I guess such spells don’t work on gelatinous blobs, no matter how pony-shaped they are.

“Just stay within range and everything will be okay,” I say. “Muffin…”

“Worry not,” Blackcurrant Muffin says. “I have my own ways of being invisible.”

“Unnoticeable.”

“Jeden chuj,” Hexie mutters, looking at herself. “Let’s go.”

We dig ourselves out and Blackcurrant Muffin completely loses her shape. That is, she morphs into a shapeless mass of jelly that looks like an oversized amoeba. The airship is a bit above us, its main gondola having traces of hasty repairs. It’s tied to a rock with a rope leading to one of the engine gondolas. There’s indeed a lone guard next to it; I can see steam coming out of their mouth. When we stare, a cigarette butt falls on the snow. Blackcurrant Muffin crawls to it and dissolves it completely inside of her body.

After a while, something looking like a mouth opens in a random bit of jelly. “Is it a custom among your kind to consume all those kinds of poison?”

“Yes,” I reply. “Don’t question it, it’s illogical.”

“Ah.” Blackcurrant Muffin crawls to the rope and slides upwards. We follow her while Daring Do flies below us, in case Hexie or I fall off the rope. Did I ever mention that I hate climbing? Too bad that I’d blow Daring and Hexie’s cover if I simply teleported to the gondola.

A few minutes later, we’re all in the observation deck surrounding the room storing the engine. Blackcurrant Muffin hides behind the corner, morphing back to her pony shape. I approach the guard, who’s lighting up another cigarette. To my surprise, it’s Kyrie. She’s trembling, her uniform is torn, and she has a black eye, as well as a long, reddish abrasion along her side.

“I only did that,” Hexie whispers to me, pointing at the black eye. “She fucked up so hard with the net that they probably whipped her and left her here to guard the airship.”

“Poor girl,” I mutter. “What are we gonna do?”

Hexie shrugs. “I can punch her again, so she’s more symmetrical.”

Daring Do sighs. “Did anyone tell you that your mind is simpler than taking a piss?” she asks. “Do that.”

“She may get permanent brain damage if subjected to more violence,” Blackcurrant Muffin says. Kyrie’s ears perk up – unlike us, Muffin’s voice isn’t muted by the spell.

“How about nerve pinch?” I ask. “I know how to do that.” I walk to Kyrie and knock the cigarette out of her mouth. “Did you know that smoking kills?” I shout.

“Wer ist hier?” Kyrie mutters, looking around frantically. I jam my hoof in the back of her neck, but it has no effect, aside from her surprised yelp. I try a few more times, but Kyrie only backpedals, trying to see me.

“Ah, damn,” I mutter, aiming my horn, and weaving the lines of the spell. “Goodnight, sweet princess.”

Kyrie drops on the floor. Back when I was young, this spell was all the rage and you could see ponies dropping like flies everywhere.

The problem is, it doesn’t exactly work. A second or two later, Kyrie opens her eyes. “Ich hatte der seltsamsten Traum…”

“It’s still a dream.” Daring Do pokes Kyrie’s neck with her wing, causing her to go limp, and turns to me. “That’s how you do that.”

“Okay…” I mutter, opening the door of the engine room. “Let’s drag her inside before she freezes.”

As we do that, putting Kyrie near the engine, we hear knocking coming from the tunnel joining the room with the main gondola. “Kyrie?” someone asks. “Ist alles okay?”

Blackcurrant Muffin morphs her throat a bit. “Ja!” she shouts in Kyrie’s voice.

“Bist du sicher?” We hear steps echoing across the tunnel.

“Damn,” Hexie mutters, standing by the door. When the guy walks in, the first thing he sees is a seemingly empty room with unconscious Kyrie lying on the floor. He doesn’t see any second things – mostly because Hexie smacks him in the ear.

“Apfelkuchen? Ist Kyrie gut?” We hear steps of another guard.

A few minutes later, when we put him next to Kyrie and Apfelkuchen, Daring Do sighs, shaking her head. “Let’s get out of here before it gets ridiculous.”

“Just one moment.” Hexie walks to the red valve on the wall and turns it. “This cuts off the flow of fuel to the engine. If it’s closed, a red light starts blinking on the control board and someone has to go and turn it.” She hits the handle of the valve with her hoof until it snaps off.” Now turning this engine on will take a little longer.”

We walk to the tunnel and climb to the main gondola. At least no one is standing by the entrance; apparently Apfelkuchen and his friend were the only ones checking if Kyrie didn’t leave her post.

“I’ll check what’s in there.” Blackcurrant Muffin points at the opening of a small pipe – probably the ventilation system. Before we can tell her that she’s too big to fit in there, she morphs into a shapeless mold again, crawls up the wall and disappears in the pipe.

“She should star in horrors,” Hexie mutters. “Imagine, you’re rubbing one off on the bed, and she suddenly leaks from the ceiling…”

“Is that a horror or porn?” I ask.

“Maybe both,” Daring Do says. “I’d need a pseudonym to write this one…”

“Meanwhile, let’s find Vinyl conventionally.” Hexie opens the door and walks to another room – a large chamber filled with vacuum tube machines in metal cases, as well as pipes, wires, and valves. The lights are blinking, the meters are showing different values, and in the middle of that, some large, muscular stallion with blonde moustache is sleeping on the chair, his hooves resting against the control board.

“Seems that they hired him in your place,” I say to Hexie. Or rather in her general direction, since she’s hard to notice.

“Do you think we can do something about that?” Daring Do asks. “In case they were trying to chase us.”

“Let’s see…” Hexie says. I briefly notice her walking to the control board. “Hmm, it seems that I could cut off the fuel supply from here, switch off the lights or release hydrogen from the balloon, or make all the lights in here form letters saying ‘Aryanne has a dick’...” She pushes a few buttons and the lights do just that.

“We need light to find Vinyl,” Daring Do says. “And maybe don’t release hydrogen when we’re here, okay?”

“Sure,” Hexie mutters, banging her hooves against the keyboard. “I feathered the right propeller. They can turn on the engine, but it won’t do shit. I also engaged the water-saving system.”

“What’s wrong about it?” I ask.

“You know that moment when you take a shit of your life in a public toilet, you want to flush and it turns out there’s no water?” Hexie smirks. “Soon, everyone in here will know that feeling…”

“Oh crap,” I mutter. “We’d better hurry, though. Who knows where’s Vinyl…”

“One more thing.” Hexie stands up and walks to some wires on the wall. She yanks them out, causing sparks to flash. “Jestem sobie operator, rozjebałam generator…”

The guy with a moustache opens his eyes and sits straight in his seat. “Scheisse,” he mutters, seeing the lights and broken wires. “Was ist das?”

“Rise of the machines, kurwo!” Hexie yells into his ear. There are levels of noticeability even the spell doesn’t cover and yelling into someone’s ear is certainly one of them. At least Hexie has decency to hit him in the head right after that demonstration. Still, we leave the room rather hastily.

“What were those wires?” Daring Do asks as we sneak past the rows of small rooms, each fitted with two bunk beds. I can hear snoring and occasionally someone talking in their sleep.

“Heating,” Hexie replies. “Soon it may get cold in here.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t wake them up,” Daring Do mutters.

Suddenly, we hear some scream from behind us. Several ponies in the rooms wake up. We stand by the walls of the corridor, trying to be as small as possible – no matter how unnoticeable you are, in the crowd someone will sooner or later bump into you. We turn to see Kyrie limping across the corridor, dragging unconscious Apfelkuchen with her. Several more white ponies join her, shouting over one another. I can discern the word “poltergeist” being repeated a few times.

“What are they talking about?” I ask.

“Something about being attacked by ghosts,” Hexie replies, her ears perking up. “Apparently a poltergeist beat them up, knocked down the mechanic and hacked the machines. Also, someone saw bits of ectoplasm leaking from the ceiling…”

Suddenly, all the voices drown in a single yell. I turn to see a white unicorn with large, violet eyes and a messy, dark blonde mane, which makes her look like she’s slightly insane. Her cutie mark looks like an atom. She says something in Pferdisch, but I can’t understand shit because she either has some speech impediment or speaks with an accent.

I look at Hexie, but she shrugs.“She’s from Stablerland. I can only understand that she called them pedals…”

Daring Do raises her eyebrows. “She called them what?”

Hexie sighs. “You know that I translate from Pferdisch to Ponish and then from Ponish to Equine, right?” She shrugs. “If you want to beat up some dude in a dark nook because he fucks other dudes, how do you call them?”

“Faggot?” I ask. “Also, stop yelling. Someone will eventually hear you, even with the spell.”

“Yeah, that.” Hexie focuses on the crowd. “Now that important dude says they need to put more guards in the corridors around the lab and tells that reject from that magical lab in Geneighva to check the lab itself. And by the way, her name seems to be Franziska.”

“We need to get to the front of the airship,” Daring Do says. “Do you prefer sneaking past the guards, or one unicorn mare?”

“The latter,” I mutter. We wait until the additional guards walk past us. Then we follow Franziska; she grabs some book and a green crystal from her room and walks past the rest of the room to the sliding door in the middle of the wall. There are apparently some corridors leading around this place, but now they’re heavily guarded, so we watch as she levitates the crystal and touches the terminal with it.

As soon as the doors slide open, we rush with her inside of the lab. Or rather, into the airlock, because there’s one separating the lab from the rest of the ship. Damn. Suddenly, we’re all in a small room and judging from Franziska’s nervous looks, she started to feel our presence.

We freeze in place. The door behind us closes, and suddenly we’re all sprayed with some disinfectant. That stuff is making us slightly more visible, but Franziska doesn’t seem to mind, waiting for the disinfectant to evaporate from her coat. Before it happens, a red ray scans everything in the airlock.

The book Franziska is levitating falls down. She tries to pick it up, but then she looks straight at me.

Suddenly, a feeling of being more naked than usual overwhelms me. It’s a common thing after canceling the unnoticeability spell and I slowly realise what was that red ray. It blocks all the magic in the airlock, just in case someone invisible wanted to get inside. That is, like right now.

Franziska’s eyes widen even more. Shit, I gotta do something! Panicking, I try the first spell that comes to my mind. That is, Haycartes’ method. The inside of the book is warm and smells of ink; I can feel something poking my back. Maybe an electron.

“What the fuck happened?” Daring Do asks. Judging by the fact that I can hear her, she’s only a few pages away.

“We’re in the book,” I reply. “Don’t ask, it’s magic.”

“I’ve never been in the book before!” Daring Do exclaims.

“Oh really?” I mutter. The book is closed, so I can’t see shit, but Franziska apparently shrugged us off, picked the book up, and walked through the airlock. “What book is it?”

“Chemistry textbook!” Hexie hiccups. “I’m in the chapter about alcohols.”

“Ah, that explains why I’m tied with covalent bonds,” Daring Do mutters.

Everything shakes. Apparently we’re thrown on the counter or something. At least the book opens and I can see everything, although upside down. I also learn that the thing poking my back was an electron.

Franziska stands in the middle of the lab, shivering and looking at the airlock. She then opens a drawer and grabs a bottle, then levitates two pills from it. She looks at the airlock once again and grabs two more pills before swallowing them.

That’d actually explain why she was so chill about seeing us. Of all the mad scientists in the world, we just had to meet one who’s on proper medication.

Or maybe not. She looks at the book and probably sees me, looking at her. I quickly hide behind a wall of text, but Franziska only blinks and walks to one of the tanks with ethanol. She levitates a graduated cylinder, opens the tap, and fills it with fuel.

“And that’s why I don’t work here,” Hexie mutters, sitting next to me and watching Franziska drinking the ethanol. “They’d soon run out of fuel.”

“Shh,” Daring Do whispers, looking at the other side of the lab. There’s a similar airlock in there and someone just walked in. “Look who got the guest access…”

“Franziska, right?” Dr. Caballeron walks to the unicorn mare. “We gave our prisoner expensive alcohols and exquisite food spiked with your potions, but she appears to be immune to any chemicals. Four of your toughest guards and one of my ponies fell under the table trying to keep up with her, but she still doesn’t want to talk about anything other than some random shit.”

“Hear that?” Hexie says. “We’re risking our lives to save her and she’s dining!”

“Shut up.” Daring Do rolls her eyes.

Franziska focuses on Caballeron, trying to process what he said. “I told you,” she says with an accent that’d give her a spot in every metal band in existence. “Ve get nosing by being nice to heʁ. I pʁoposed toʁtuʁe ʁight fʁom ze staʁt…”

“Tell that to that Kloppenfuhrer guy.” Caballeron rolls his eyes. “Pulli saw exactly what that grey brute did to Besserwisser when she tried to catch her in the net, and is scared that if he does something to this DJ, her friends will come and get him.”

“Vell, last time he met zem, it cost him a testicle,” Franziska says. “He doesn’t vant to take any moʁe chances.”

“You didn’t have to cut it off, you know?” Caballeron mutters. “He only had a head wound. Though he barely saved his virginity from the gorillas, from what I’ve heard.”

“Zat’s an insinuation.”

“Yeah, sure.” Caballeron smirks. “Go to Aryanne and Pulli and tell them that you always wanted to be a torture technician.” He waves his hoof at Franziska. She opens her mouth to say something, but apparently she ran out of her Equine skills. Or maybe her meds kicked in, I’m not sure. Anyway, she turns back and leaves the lab through the airlock Caballeron walked in.

“Let’s go,” I whisper, lighting up my horn. “We’d better knock him out, save Vinyl and get out as fast as possible.”

“Wait,” Daring Do mutters, pointing at Caballeron, who opens one of the drawers. “Whenever he’s left alone in some secret place, he always has to sneak around. Maybe he’ll find something useful for us.”

“Fucking mutants,” Caballeron says to himself. “Well, maybe Ahuizotl has eyes in his nostrils, but at least he’s not a bunch of crazy albinos whose brains turned into shit because of inbreeding and drugs…” He opens another drawer. “At least they pay well…”

Something drops from the ceiling and splashes on the floor. Caballeron walks to it and pokes it with his hoof. Right in time for a gelatinous tentacle to lower from the ceiling and grab him.

“Release us!” Daring Do exclaims, watching as the tentacle tries to push Caballeron through the air-vent. With rather poor results.

I channel my magic and free us from the book. Daring Do runs to Caballeron, shouting, “Muffin, leave him!”

Blackcurrant Muffin stops banging Caballeron against the ceiling. “Is he a good guy?”

“No,” Daring Do replies.

“Then he’s a bad guy.” The tentacle raises Caballeron, who lets out a high-pitched scream.

“He’s a bad guy, but books with him sell better,” Daring Do says. “Hold him, but don’t hurt him.”

“Oh, thank you for that kindness.” Caballeron rolls his eyes. “Since when do you side with monsters, Professor Yearling?”

Daring Do blushes. Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes.

“You can talk all day, if you wish,” I say. “We’re going to save Vinyl. Hexie, dynamic entry.”

I aim my horn at the airlock, trying to remember the spell I once used to blast the door of a liquor store. The effect is better than expected; it not only blows the airlock into several big pieces, but also makes a large dent in the next wall. Hexie rushes forward, kicking the dent and making a big hole in the plywood. I follow her through the splinters and smoke, ready to fry every motherfucker who gets in my way.

“Hello,” Vinyl says. She’s chained to the table in Aryanne’s apartment and most definitely drunk. “Nice to see you. This party just got kinky.”

I look around, assessing the situation. Franziska was unfortunate enough to stand by the wall when we crashed the party, so currently she’s crawling on the floor, picking up her teeth. Aryanne is standing in front of us, aiming a gun bigger than her at me – probably a light machine gun.

I look at Kloppenfuhrer, who’s holding a ridiculously small knife. “Hello, Pulli. Tell her to put that down,” I say, aiming my horn at him. “Or else I’ll shoot your sole remaining ball off.”

His face becomes red. “Aryanne will shoot you then.”

“And then Hexie will have enough time to grab her, take that funny little gun, shove it up her arse and pull the trigger,” I reply. “And then she’ll take care of you.”

Aryanne looks at Kloppenfuhrer unsurely. “Should I drop it?” She thinks for a moment and aims at Hexie. “What if I shoot her?”

“Then I’ll have time blow your face off with my magic.” I’m not sure if I can do that, but she doesn’t have to know this.

“We have a whole army behind your back,” Kloppenfuhrer mutters. “You won’t get out alive.”

“In my opinion, he has a point,” Vinyl mutters.

I shrug. “And how do you know we didn’t rip them all apart and hang their entrails from the windows?” That’s a bigger bluff, since Franziska most definitely saw we didn’t, but she’s currently busy planning to perform a jaw reconstruction on herself.

“That’s not your style,” Kloppenfuhrer says.

“Kyrie squealed, begging me to let her live before I snapped her neck.” Hexie smirks. “You know that’s my style.”

Aryanne clears her throat. “Let me tell you vhy zat’s bullshit. I’ve read ze report from my guards’ encounter wis you. You killed Besserwisser because she vanted to kill Kyrie in accordance wis ze rules of court martial.” She smirks, walking closer to me. “Zerefore, you care about her.”

“More than you care about your safety.” I yank the barrel of her gun with my magic, aiming it at the ceiling and ram into Aryanne. I hear a few shots, followed by the hissing of the gas escaping from the balloon. Kloppenfuhrer darts towards Vinyl, trying to dodge Hexie.

However, he didn’t include Caballeron in his plans.

“Co, kurwa?” Hexie looks at Caballeron, who just got thrown into the room with enough force to knock Kloppenfuhrer down.

“Daring Do to the rescue!” Daring Do flies into the room. The turbulence caused by escaping hydrogen throws her off-course, but she manages to land on the floor, full of kitchen utensils and broken dishes, skidding to a halt by Vinyl’s hooves.

“Nopony shoots!” I scream, yanking the machine gun from Aryanne’s hooves and removing the magazine. “Or else we’ll all blow up!”

Aryanne is still trying to fight, so I gently poke her in the ribs with the butt of the gun. Kloppenfuhrer drops the table with Vinyl on Daring Do, right before Hexie slams into him. He hits the pink couch and falls back with it.

Aryanne gets up, holding a large knife in her hooves. I dodge, earning a long cut on my hoof. She raises her hoof for another strike, but suddenly, Blackcurrant Muffin materialises behind her.

“Put down the cutting tool, please,” she says, grabbing Aryanne’s hoof. Aryanne tries to punch her, but her hoof only splashes into the jelly, leaving no lasting marks.

“Wrong answer.” Blackcurrant Muffin unceremoniously throws Aryanne at the window. The glass breaks and our nemesis takes a quick trip in a rather permanent destination. I think it’s not the first time, but this time without Kyrie to save her ass.

“What?” Blackcurrant Muffin asks. “She wasn’t a bad guy?”

“Did she die?” Daring Do gets out from under the remains of the table and helps Vinyl up.

Hexie looks through the broken window. “No such luck. If you’re born to hang, you’ll never drown, as my dad always said. She landed in a pile of snow, though it may take a while before she gets up.”

“On a side note, you may want to follow her.” Blackcurrant Muffin points at the hole in the wall. “The guards just noticed that the flying machine is losing gas.”

“Shit,” I mutter. I’m in no mood for jumping, so I simply teleport as far down as I can, leaving me only with a few metres to fall on the soft snow. Daring Do flies off with Vinyl; only Hexie and Blackcurrant Muffin jump, the former making a big hole in the snow, and the latter splashing on the ground. She crawls for a while before going back to her pony shape.

We don’t have time to watch as the guards fly or slide down on the ropes from the collapsing airship. We simply run to the sleigh. Blackcurrant Muffin is pretty fast when pulling it, but their pegasi are faster. Daring Do turns back, throwing a couple of snowballs at them. Not much, but she still manages to hit Kyrie, though without results.

I fire my magic into the air, giving a signal to our friends. Let’s hope they’re close, because we can’t just run around the whole continent until we’re caught. Especially since I can see that the guards came up with a plan; a small group is circling a hill to flank us, while the pegasi prepare to dive at us.

“Behold! The Great and Powerful Trixie is here!” Trixie jumps from under the snow cover, levitating a couple of fireworks. She throws them into the air. Most of them only hiss and fall down, having been under the snow for too long. One of them, however, blows up. Two slightly burnt pegasi fall on the ground, groaning and rubbing their butts.

Ruby and Inkie do slightly better. Ruby shots someone in the ass with her BB gun and throws my rifle to me. Inkie has her crystal gun; soon, three guards lie around her, clutching to their balls. Trixie throws a smoke bomb, but then the group that was trying to flank us charges at us, aiming their guns.

“Hooves up!” someone shouts. Turns out, it’s Caballeron – covered in cuts and bruises, but still fine. “Now I’m in charge.”

“You’re not even in charge of your ass!” Ruby yells. She drops the BB gun, though.

“Shall we negotiate?” Vinyl raises her hoof and walks towards the row of soldiers aiming at us. “I mean, I get it, you have your aims and we have ours, but maybe we shouldn’t destroy the world or something?” She backpedals when she sees the barrel right in front of her nose.

“Destroy the world?” Caballeron chuckles. “Please. I’d rather keep it in my hooves, you know… With all that underground town and the possibility that if someone ever farts in my general direction I can unleash certain doom on the whole planet… Finally I won’t have to work with that cloned koala on steroids called Ahuizotl.”

“World domination?” Daring Do sighs. “How original. And what will you do if someone opposes you? Destroy the whole planet including yourself?”

Caballeron smirks. “Nah, I’ll build myself a comfy little base… Maybe on Yuggoth, I’ve heard it’s beautiful at this time of year. If you behave, I may take you with me. Who knows, maybe one day our descendants will populate the whole galaxy?”

“Fuck you,” Daring Do replies.

“I must say, he does think big,” Inkie says. “Why limit ourselves to one fragile rock in the depths of space?”

“You may join too,” Caballeron says. “My base will need skilled engineers and that army I inherited from Aryanne is, frankly, quite small…”

I don’t exactly follow his words. I hear some noise in the distance and see a white cloud of snow somewhere behind him. A storm? That’d be pretty convenient. Unless…

Some of the soldiers notice that too, staring back as Caballeron continues to talk about mutual profits and shit like that. The white cloud is coming closer, the noise becoming deafening. Soldiers turn back and drop their weapons, running away.

“What?” Caballeron turns back to look at…

Holy shit, I know this. I mean, this insane airframe was lying in the hangar for ages, gathering dust, and someone even proposed to change it into an avantgarde outhouse. Hell, we even called it Rusty Shitter. Now it has two rings with large propellers inside of them, one on each side. I remember Cherry Berry commissioning them, but I always assumed she wanted to build an aerodynamic tunnel.

The rings tilt upwards, so it becomes more similar to the helicopter than to a plane. The front part of the airframe unfolds as it lands gently on the ground. Caballeron stares right into it. That is, until a stone flies from it and hits him in the face.

Blinkie Pie stands on the steps, lowering a shepherd’s sling. “Nopony threatens my sister. Ever.”

“Oh no!” Daring Do shudders. “Deus ex machina!”

“Not really,” I say, pointing at Lyra, who gets out of the machine and waves at us. “We did tell her to bring all the help we’d need.”

And hell, did she deliver. Bon Bon, Berry Punch, Flitter, Cloudchaser, Blossomforth, Maud, Blinkie, Pinkie, Wild Hunt, hell, even Candy the minotaur and her manager Perrito Calliente. The all rush forward, grabbing the remaining soldiers.

“Weren’t you supposed to popularise wrestling, or something?” I ask him, watching Candy grab two soldiers and throw them into a pile.

“We do!” Perrito replies. “Maybe there aren’t many viewers here, but those landscapes… Wild nature and wild wrestling, that’s the future!”

“Minuette!” someone calls. I turn back to see Tyluan. “I’ve heard the news…”

I smack him in the face. “You got me pregnant, imbecile!”

“Yeah, that’s the news I’ve heard,” he replies. “So, about that…”

“It’s not gonna work,” I say. “That was one time, you’re in the mafia, I travel a lot, we’ll maybe see each other a few days a year and I don’t want our kid to become a criminal. Don’t bother.”

“That’s what Wild Hunt said.” Tyluan sighs. “I’m going back to Hollow Shades, so we can see each other more often. Guess you’ll be busy with the kid, so I can help.”

“If the kid is not a total dumbass like his father, he’ll inherit the company. He or she will learn a lot, travelling to different places.” I smile at Tyluan. “Those will include Hollow Shades quite often, though.”

Someone pokes me. I turn to see Ruby. “If I hear more shit like this, I’m gonna vomit,” she says. “The situation got quite interesting. You two wouldn’t want to miss it.”

I look around. There’s a big pile of half-conscious soldiers near the Rusty Shitter. Flitter is clearly in her element.

“Conquering Manegascar,” she says, circling around the pile and looking at Caballeron, who’s sitting nearby. “Turning Zebrica into an even bigger shithole… plotting to destroy the world… Theft… polluting the environment with illegal rainbows and your broken airship.” Flitter stops and smiles. “You’re all fucking arrested.” She pokes Caballeron. “You get a cell…” She pokes some soldier. “You get a cell… And you get a cell…” She chuckles. “Everypony gets a fucking cell!”

Cherry Berry waves to us from behind the cockpit of her new aircraft. “Hello, guys! Pretty cold, eh?”

Berry Punch walks to us. “Ruby! You’re going home! Ms. Cheerilee told me about your grades.”

Ruby lowers her head. “Yes mom.”

Cloudchaser scratches her mane. “Someone’s missing… Where’s Aryanne? And that dumb pegasus, for that matter?”

Hexie walks to Cloudchaser and shrugs. “Oh, we threw her out of the window. She was fine, last time I checked.”

Suddenly, the ground shakes. I look at the place where the airship was and see some large, tubular object rising from the ground… Or maybe from below it? It’s conical from one end and spews fire from the other. Something like an enormous firework. It’s almost surreal, since it flies up in complete silence.

That is, until the speed of sound catches up and a terrible roar throws us all on the ground, causing another cloud of snow to rise. The new aircraft trembles, but luckily, it doesn’t collapse.

“What the hell was that?” Wild Hunt asks, watching the large firework, as it gets smaller and smaller in the distance.

“That, my scar-covered friend, was one of the rockets that are programmed to go to Yuggoth where you can activate the Stones of the Undead,” Blackcurrant Muffin replies. “I guess Aryanne put her hooves on those. In that case, we may soon be doomed.”

“What?” Wild Hunt asks. “What yogurth? What stones?” She looks at Blackcurrant Muffin and winces. “And what the fuck are you?”

I look at Blackcurrant Muffin. “You’ve said there were more rockets, right?”

“Each can hold up to three ponies in comfortable conditions, assuring that they’ll go back in one piece,” Blackcurrant Muffin replies. “The masters really liked their pets, even when they used them for medical tests.”

Bon Bon looks at her and her eyes light up. “A propos tests, you may want to come with us…”

“Not now,” I say. “We’ll need a rocket. As fast as possible.”

Blackcurrant Muffin raises her eyebrows. I swear, she develops them only when she wants to do that. “So, you want to go…”

“In space!” Vinyl exclaims. “Yeah, let’s do that!”

Author's Note

Jeden chuj - an expression of a feeling that two given items are exactly the same. Literally means, "one dick".

Ich hatte der seltsamsten Traum… - I had the weirdest dream...

We’re orbiting some small, yet very colourful planet – something taken out of the dream of a stoned modern artist.

We’re orbiting some small, yet very colourful planet – something taken out of the dream of a stoned modern artist.

You know those situations that, when explained to someone without context sound entirely improbable? Funny thing, those. One says that, for example, fighting hoards of tentacled monsters in the middle of a hole in the ground, surrounded by a pretty nice frozen landscape.

This being said, I’m currently fighting hoards of tentacled monsters in the middle of a hole in the ground, surrounded by a pretty nice frozen landscape. And holy shit, is that terrifying.

“Watch out!” Cloudchaser screams, diving to squish a bunch of some small, slimy scoundrels that attacked Bon Bon. I drop on the ground; near me, Candy grabs something shapeless by its tentacle, spins it and throws it at a bunch of similar creatures.

“What the hell is going on here?” Vinyl asks.

I’d like to know, myself. It seems to me that the start of the rocket with Aryanne and Kyrie unearthed a bit of the ancient town and it was just like turning over a rock to see that there are a lot of worms under it. Except in this case, the worms are the size of a train.

Inkie stands up and fires her crystal gun; to my surprise, the weapon works, which means that one of those black, bat-like creatures that flew out of the hole in the ground probably had testicles. I fire my favourite spell to check that and indeed, another such creature screams and falls to the ground, clutching its balls with its wings.

“It’s no use!” Hexie shouts. “Bullets don’t work against them, magic barely works… What can we do?”

“Fry them!” Flitter cries, flying above us with the flamethrower on her back. “Die, motherfuckers!”

“Remain calm,” Blackcurrant Muffin says. I see there are a couple of bullets stuck in her – apparently someone confused her for a monster in the heat of the battle. I’m afraid I shot her too. “Those are household appliances.”

“Really?” Trixie points at a spiky flying ball. “What does that do?”

“Clean ceilings,” Blackcurrant Muffin replies. “But not when the young one tries to shoot it.”

“Ruby, stop shooting,” I say.

Something explodes next to us. I smell burning alcohol and turn to see the Rusty Shitter flying behind us. Some creature gets sucked into its fan and changes into a billion of gelatinous bits. In the cockpit, Cherry Berry and Berry Punch gesture towards us.

“Run!” Daring Do exclaims. “We need to regroup!”

She doesn’t have to say it twice. Vinyl is the first to cheese it, but I follow her rather close, mostly because some tentacled vacuum cleaner is chasing me. Ruby apparently ran out of pellets – she’s throwing snowballs at it, but I grab her with my magic and carry her to the open door in front of Cherry Berry’s new toy.

The inside of Rusty Shitter is pretty spacious, though I’m sure it’ll soon get more rusty with all that snow we carried on our hooves. As soon as everyone is inside, Cherry closes the door and flies up, way above the range of those of the creatures who can fly.

“Millennium hand and shrimp!” Cherry Berry exclaims. “Just watching those thingies can make you insane!”

“You’re already insane,” I reply.

“That’s the point.” Cherry Berry looks at me and I notice that her gaze is surprisingly sharp. “I went so insane that I made a full circle and I’m normal again.” She looked around. “Holy shit, I built this?”

“Don’t forget how to fly it…” I turn to the rest of ponies in the plane. “So, anyone has any ideas how to get to those rockets?”

“I’ll do that,” Daring Do says. “Or I’ll die trying.”

“Something that doesn’t involve sacrifice?” I ask. “Anyone?”

“Ask Bon Bon for a nuke,” Flitter says. “But it’ll take long and Aryanne already is in space. How did she even get past them?”

“They were on standby,” Blackcurrant Muffin says. “The noise from the rocket woke them up.”

“Let’s go back, get Hot Coco and shoot everyone to hell.” Hexie smirks.

“Won’t do, they’re mostly bulletproof like Blackcurrant Muffin,” Vinyl says.

“Blow them with magic!” Trixie exclaims.

“Magicproof too.” Vinyl turns to Trixie. “We may end up blowing them if we fail, though.”

“Let’s see if you have better ideas.” Trixie groaned. “Trixie doesn’t think so.”

“Fly to the rockets?” Inkie asks.

Flitter looks at her as if she wanted to throw her out of the plane. “Sooner or later, we’ll have to land and they’ll gang up on us.”

“Oh, bugger yourself, winged lady,” Cherry Berry mutters. “This baby can stop in mid-air and if I’ve seen those rockets correctly, the door is pretty high above the ground.”

“They can still end up in the fans,” Cloudchaser says. “How many of them can we grind before we fall on the ground?”

“That’s where you come,” I say. “Flitter, Cloudchaser, Daring, Wild Hunt…” I look at Tyluan. “Anyone who has wings. You’ll get out and keep them from hitting something important.”

“Knowing my luck, I’ll be the one to hit something important,” Blossomforth says.

I ignore her. Wild Hunt already stands up, spreading her wings and baring her fangs. “Nice occasion to get some new scars…”

“What happened to your ear?” Blossomforth asks, her eyes wide. I’m not surprised. I guess anytime Wild Hunt wants to take an airship, airport officials prepare rubber gloves.

“An unfortunate rodeo accident.”

“A bull bit it off?”

“No.” Wild Hunt smirks and looks at me. “I was the bull.”

“Trixie would say it’s bullshit, but she was there,” Trixie says.

“I’ll tell you about this later,” I say. “Cherry, bring us closer to those rockets.”

The pegasi and bat ponies take off and Cherry locks the door. The engines roar and the plane enters a shallow dive, escorted by a formation of ponies. I can see the rockets from there; tall, metallic spires in the underground pit, aiming at the sky. How do they even work?

“Blackcurrant Muffin?” I ask.

“Yes?”

“How are we supposed to steer those?” I point at the rockets.

“You don’t have to,” Blackcurrant Muffin replies. “They’re automatic. Just push the red button inside and you’ll be fine.”

I have my reservations against pushing unknown red buttons in unknown machines, but I have to keep them to myself. Especially since the first wave of creatures strikes at us. Something heavy hits the windscreen. I can see a lot of teeth, but then the thing is kicked away by Wild Hunt, who salutes us.

“Get closer!” I shout, watching Daring Do grabbing something by its tentacle and spinning it to smack another flying creature. Cherry Berry lowers the plane, trying to approach one of the rockets. I notice some faint glow around them. Of course, the whole thing is protected with magic – else they’d fall apart aeons ago.

We hear a terrible roar somewhere below us. Inkie looks through the window and recoils in horror, fainting immediately.

“What was that?” Vinyl asks. “Does it make ponies insane when they look at it?”

Blinkie walks to the window, carefully stepping over her sister. “Some really ugly motherfucker. Nothing special, except it’s much bigger.”

Ruby raises her eyebrows and looks through the window too. “I can confirm that it’s indeed one ugly motherfucker,” she says. “But there’s something more to it. I can’t see the whole thing at once.”

“He exists in more dimensions than your mind can comprehend.” Blackcurrant Muffin smiles. “Don’t worry, he’s not hungry and can’t really reach us here.”

“Good to hear,” Trixie says.

“But if someone falls, he’ll kill them for his own personal pleasure.” Blackcurrant Muffin shrugs. “So, you could say that if he had a mother, he’d have inappropriate relationship with her.”

“Thanks for that really educative explanation,” Blinkie says, trying to wake up Inkie.

“You’re welcome,” Blackcurrant Muffin replies. Blinkie raises her eyebrows, staring into her eyes, but it’s hard to find a face more honest than our gelatinous friend’s.

The whole plane shakes. Cherry Berry starts cursing and yanks the stick, trying to approach the rockets while keeping the whole thing steady. The rings with our fans screech, changing their positions. Outside, I get a glimpse of Cloudchaser and Tyluan fighting some little thingies with suckers trying to grab our plane. I hope they don’t eat metal or something.

“Don’t worry, they don’t eat ponies,” Blackcurrant Muffin says. “They were used in foundries to collect scrap metal and break it into smaller pieces.”

Oh shit. They do.

“Whoa!” Trixie exclaims, jumping back when one of the thingies pokes a hole in the fuselage and gets inside. She aims her horn at it and fires a magic bolt which changes the creature into slightly crispy jelly.

“Cherry, open the door!” I shout. “We’ll get to the rockets, somehow.”

“They’re too far!” Lyra exclaims.

“I’ll get as close as I can and teleport.” I rush to the front of the plane. The door is slightly ajar and I can see the entrance of the rocket about a hundred metres from me. One could say it’d be easy to get there, but the whole way is filled with something that looks like flying needles. What the hell is that? Surprise vaccines?

I look at the entrance and focus on it. My teleportation has been a little shaky lately, but it’s now or never. I close my eyes and disappear.

The way is rather rough. As if someone caught my hoof right before I teleported. Due to that, I overshoot a bit and instead of landing at the porch, I end up on the very top of the rocket… With Vinyl holding my tail.

“What the fuck?” I ask.

“You didn’t think I’d let you go alone?” Vinyl asks. “I’d like to boldly come where no pony has gone before too…”

“So far, we need to come down because of you…” Fat chance. We’d have to go down the five metres of a smooth wall, at least. With those metal needles now surrounding us and waiting for our move.

I hear the sound of another teleportation. Vinyl looks down. “We’re saved!” she exclaims.

“How so?” I ask.

“Worry not and jump!” I hear. “The Great and Powerful Trixie is there to catch you!”

“Fuck. We’re dead,” I mutter.

“Maybe you.” Before I can stop her, Vinyl jumps. I hang from the antenna at the tip of the rocket and look as she falls before she hits a field of blue magic that carries her to the rocket’s door.

“Your turn, Minuette!” Trixie shouts.

I look down and almost throw up. “You must be fucking crazy to think I’d do that…”

“Trixie left her comfortable casino to go around the world with you and teleport on a million years old rocket to fly to Yoghurt with you! If that’s not fucking crazy then Trixie doesn’t know what is!”

True. From a certain point of view. “It’s called Yuggoth!” I yell, letting go of the antenna. I have a feeling that the whole flight is painfully long. Will Trixie catch me? It wouldn’t be the first time she screwed up…

The blue barrier embraces me. I barely have time to gesture everyone to get the fuck out before Trixie levitates me and yanks me inside. The needle-like things follow me, but I immediately lock the door and hear as they’re blasted away by magic protecting the rockets.

“You’re heavier than Vinyl,” Trixie says.

“I’m pregnant,” I reply. “You don’t have such an excuse, though. You’re just fat.”

“Curvy,” Trixie replies. “The Great and Powerful Trixie is pleasantly curvy and don’t forget that.”

“Only the three of us again!” Vinyl exclaims. “What new adventure the life has in store for us?”

“Having to explain to Daring Do that we didn’t take her for a ride,” I reply, shrugging. “If we survive, that is.”

I look around. We’re in some well-lit white room, somehow devoid of any sharp angles; everything is rounded and the walls are a bit soft, as if they were padded. There’s absolutely nothing inside, except of the door—a closer examination of it reveals that it’s, in fact, an airlock—and three circles on one of the walls.

“Hmm, it looks like a cell in a nuthouse,” Vinyl says. “But not exactly?”

“How do you know how a cell in the nuthouse look like?” I ask, though I can see her point. Everything is soft and inoffensive, so no one gets angry and hurts themselves.

“Long story,” Vinyl says. “How do you turn this thing on?”

Welcome. If you wonder why I’m speaking to you in your language, I tuned directly into your brainwaves.

Trixie looks around. “Did you hear that?”

Vinyl collapses, covering her ears. “Aargh! The voices! The voices! They’re plugged into my brain!”

“Vinyl, you don’t have a brain,” I mutter. “Who are you, strange voice from beyond?”

I shall be your guide in the trip to Yuggoth. I assume you’re test subjects, right?

“More or less,” I reply. “We are on a mission from, umm… the mission control.” I shrug. “How do we get in space? We really need to hurry.”

There’s no reply. Instead, the three circles on the wall move up, revealing three chairs. Each of them looks like a half of a sphere resting on a plastic pedestal. The problem is, they’re facing the ceiling and way beyond our reach.

Climb to the pods and fasten the seatbelts.

“Do we have to levitate ourselves?” I ask. “We’re not in the best shape for such stunts.”

The seats immediately lower towards us. I sit in the middle one. It’s actually pretty comfortable. I’d say it’s like a womb, but maybe that’s because I’m pregnant. Maybe part of my intelligence is already being transferred to the baby. Anyway, Vinyl sits on my left and Trixie jumps into the pod on my right, which screeches under her weight. While I fasten the seatbelts, the pods go up.

Push the red button on your right when you’re ready. According to the current position of the planets, the journey should take a month.

“A month?” Vinyl exclaims. “We have a world to save!”

I’m worried about something else, myself. “You use astrology to navigate?”

Not astrology. I calculated the path taking gravity assist into account. Also, there’s another rocket currently in space and you’ll probably be happy to know that their path is not so short. In fact, we may keep up with them.

“But what are we going to do during that month?” Trixie asks.

The pods close. The other half of the sphere is made of something transparent, but it still means that we’re trapped inside.

You shall be hibernated once we’re in space. For you, the journey won’t last longer than an hour. During this time, you will be entertained by our systems. We will also perform the medical checkup.

“Can we have sex during that time?” Vinyl’s voice can be heard even through the glass. “Asking for a friend.”

Yes. The voice in my head sounds slightly irritated. Just push that damn red button already, okay?

Hmm, to think about, it’s probably how I hear it. And since it uses my brain as a template, it sounds like this.

That’s exactly what happens.

Oh, shut up. I push the red button and the whole thing starts to shake. The seatbelts pull us closer to our seats as the rocket slowly moves. Thank goodness the roar of the engines is muffled by the glass of the pods, or else we’d be deaf. And spread flat on the wall, since they also seem to reduce the G-force.

“We’ve lost something!” Vinyl shouts, trying to get out of her pod. “This thing is falling apart!”

That was one of the stages that ran out of fuel. Don’t panic. We’re currently in mesosphere. The temperature outside is -70 degrees Celsius.

Good we’re inside, then. On a side note, I keep wondering what the hell is that Celsius in the name of the temperature unit. The history books don’t mention any pony with that name.

He was a Swedish physician.

That doesn’t help, dear disembodied voice. Or rather, whatever technological mumbo-jumbo that uploaded itself into my brain. Swedish? That’s a word?

I could upload the history of everything that happened since the founding of Sweden until now into your brain, but there’s a 98.5% chance that you’d get insane in process. Besides, are the Masters sending pregnant mares into space now?

“Yeah, they do,” I reply. “Is that bad?”

Your pregnancy will follow according to the schedule during the hibernation. I’ll stimulate your body so it goes well, but you may suddenly feel bigger and heavier after waking up.

“No problem,” I say. Suddenly, I feel a sting below my shoulder.

I just removed several cells from your lung. In twenty years, they’d turn cancerous.

Huh. Can I somehow take one of those pods home? That’d be a real revolution in medicine. You go inside and get out twenty years younger.

You wouldn’t really be twenty years younger. Besides, I estimate that your body is only at 25% of its biological wear and tear, so I guess that’s fine for you.

“So, I’m gonna live until I’m one-hundred twenty?” I ask. “What will I do with all this time…”

You can always get killed earlier. Also, we’re now in space. The hibernation process will start soon.

I look out of the glass pane of my pod. On the screen in front of me I can see the silent void filled with millions of stars. Holy shit. Even a hundred and twenty years wouldn’t be enough to reach all of them. Geez. I’m more afraid of being weak and old than of being dead, but hell, that’d be creepy if my dead body just orbited somewhere there, all alone.

You wouldn’t feel alone for the simple reason that you’d be dead. Also, the hibernation starts right now. During the process, I’ll show you the estimation of your future life, based on what I know from your mind.

“How does this hibernation even work?” I ask. “Also, my whole life?”

Nah, more like next ten years. Also, I never hibernated anyone before. You’d better hope it works…

Wait, what? And you’re telling me about this only now? Hey, voice? Where are you, you bas–

Basking in the rays of sunset, I look through the window of my Manehattan office. Judging by my reflection in the glass pane, the grey strip in my mane is now almost white and the blue one is a bit lighter. I also wear horn-rimmed glasses. When I try to take them off, I notice that I became far-sighted. That is, my vision is fine, but when I want to read something, it turns out my hooves are too short.

I lean back in the armchair standing in front of the large conference table. This must be that vision of the future the voice from the rocket told me about. I look down at the table and see a red button labelled as “intercom”.

Having nothing better to do, I push it. “Grace?” I ask, somehow knowing that she’s my secretary. “Could you come here?”

A minute later, the door opens and Grace Manewitz walks in. Unlike me, she didn’t change at all. Maybe she bathes in the blood of young virgins or something.

“Ms. Pinch sent a message from Chineigh,” she says. “Sheep Sheep’s unnatural inclinations got them into a bit of trouble, but she says it’s fine. If everything goes well, they may get back by the end of the week, unless the change of the government will be necessary.”

Ms. Pinch? I have no idea who the hell is Sheep Sheep and what unnatural inclinations he or she possesses, but I can’t imagine Ruby solving that in a week, whether it involves a change of the government or not.

“Remind her that we’re not supposed to interfere with politics,” I say. “At least not on such a scale. Also, remind me, how old is she?”

Grace scratches her mane. “Last week she turned twenty-one.”

Oh yeah. Ten years. No longer a swearing, sarcastic brat. More likely a foul-mouthed, ruthless young mare of cunning wit. Who else she can be, raised by Berry Punch, me, and Vinyl?

“I’d like to remind you that you have a scheduled meeting with Ms. Tiara from Barnyard Bargains. They’d like to renegotiate their contract with us,” Grace says.

“Ah, Filthy Rich thinks his daughter will eat me for breakfast,” I mutter. “Highly unlikely.”

Hmm, I wonder if I can tell Diamond Tiara that with the new government of Chineigh on our side we can easily screw them over. Guess I’d be a good supervillain. To think about it… I need to get rid of Ruby before she realises she’d be a better one.

That’s why you’d better watch out when you get richer.

Excuse me?

It’s me, the voice. I’d like to inform that we’re getting close to Yuggoth. Did you enjoy your vision?

“More or less,” I reply. Damn, did this pod get smaller or what? “I didn’t get to the moment when I become a princess and put Celestia in Tartarus to proclaim the Technocratic Empire.”

This won’t happen.

“You don’t know me yet…” I mutter.

You’d be assassinated quickly if you did. Beware of the Ides of March.

“Is it another allusion to something from the previous world?”

One of them, yeah. Also, you’re now fully awake. You must leave the pod and get to the lander.

Oh, surely. The pod opens and I get out. Huh. Either the gravity of this place is screwed, or my own centre of gravity moved a little bit.

A closer examination reveals that the latter is true. In other words, I’m now a bit more round, my belly somewhere between my knees. Damn. This is ridiculous. How long does it take before the bun leaves the oven? Does it at least come with not being nauseous?

As I’m getting used to the changes in my body, I hear the other two pods open.

“Woo-hoo!” Vinyl shouts. Her fur seems slightly brighter and her voice is slightly less raspy. “That thing in there repaired my lungs and liver,” she says, staring at my stomach. “If I say that I feel like a newborn foal, will you smack me?”

“You’ve just said that,” I mutter.

“The Great and Powerful Trixie thinks the gravity is lower here.” Trixie gets out of the pod. Looking at her, I wouldn’t say so – it seems that she’d lost some weight during the stay inside. I really hope they didn’t reuse her fat as nutrients for all of us. I mean, that’d be pretty awkward.

“Whoa, Trixie…” Vinyl’s eyes widen. “You look fuckable again!”

“Hey! Trixie was always fuckable!” Trixie stares at Vinyl. “Besides, the voice told us to go to the lander. Where is it?”

I look at the floor. There’s a shiny arrow on it now, pointing to some hatch under the main screen. We follow it and get into some cramped little shithole, filled with various instruments. Finally, some machinery I can interact with, not just that big red button in the main compartment. If only I could read those labels…

Everything is already programmed. Don’t touch anything.

“Well, fuck you too, voice,” I mutter.

“Damn it,” Vinyl says. “When Trixie got slimmer, Minuette got fat. Can’t you do something with your belly?”

“Yes. Give birth,” I reply.

“Now?”

“No, in a few months. Suck it up, Vinyl.” I look through the small window. We’re orbiting some small, yet very colourful planet – something taken out of the dream of a stoned modern artist. It seems to shimmer in the light of a very distant sun.

After a while, I notice that something else is orbiting the planet. I take a closer look and it seems like another rocket, just like ours. Something small falls off of it and flies towards the surface of the planet.

“Seems that Aryanne is scheduled to land before us,” Trixie says. “Let’s hope she doesn’t get much headstart.”

“We can always make it faster.” Vinyl looks at the buttons and levers covering the walls. “Artificial intelligence will never win against natural stupidity.”

“And we won’t win against the vacuum outside,” I reply.

Luckily, we wait for only one more revolution around the planet before the lander disconnects itself from the rest of the rocket. It makes a somersault and flies towards the surface. I look through the window and watch the rocket, slowly getting smaller until it’s hard to tell it from the distant star. What if we don’t come back? I could try to learn that sex-change spell again and start a colony on Yuggoth.

“Hmm…” Vinyl looks towards the planet. “How much would it cost to make a party there? Seems like a perfect location.”

Damn. With Vinyl’s and Kyrie’s genes, I don’t think my colony stands a chance.

“Trixie thinks it’d lack atmosphere,” Trixie says, making me groan.

While Yuggoth itself is too small to have an atmosphere, it’s maintained by a powerful spell left by the Masters.

“Awesome,” I mutter. “Hope this magical air doesn’t cause cancer or something.”

It shall be cured on the way back. Also, while we are at it, the atmosphere is thinner and the gravity is about twelve times weaker than what you’re used to. You’re not pegasi, so it shouldn’t be a problem, but in the past, a few test subjects ended up reaching the outer space and suffocating.

“I was just wondering…” Vinyl looks at the ceiling of the lander. “Does the voice of Aryanne’s rocket speak Pferdisch?”

“Most likely,” Trixie replies. “After all, it’s plugged into our brains, or something.”

The whole lander starts to shake. I look outside, but all I can see are the flames. What the hell?

Don’t worry. The lander is heating since it entered the atmosphere.

“That doesn’t sound reassuring!” I shout.

But it won’t last long.

Indeed, after another revolution around the planet, we slow down and start to float towards the ground on a couple of parachutes. I even notice a few details on the surface of the planet – a hill with some ruins on it, surrounded by forests. Or maybe some field – the plants there are too short to be trees, and look more like gigantic flowers. On the other side of this meadow for giants, there are a few rocky clearings and it seems that’s where we’re headed.

“Over there!” Vinyl exclaims, pointing at the clearing. I look in that direction and see another lander, just like ours, standing in the middle of the plain. Someone just left it and I can immediately tell it’s Kyrie; she tries to fly and, surprised by lower gravity, makes a somersault in the air and drops on the ground. As she’d probably say, ein kleiner Schritt für ein Pony, aber ein gewaltiger Sprung für die Ponyheit.

This being said, it’s our turn to land. I hear the roar of engines slowing us down before we hit the ground. Pretty hard, I must say, despite the braking. Luckily, it’s cushioned a bit by the artificial gravity of the lander turning off, allowing us to experience weighing only a few pounds.

Right after the shaking stops, I kick the door open and look around. Damn, it looks like a tubular music video from my youth. Everything has a purple tint and we’re in the forest full of some magical mushrooms or other shite.

“Okay, let’s find Aryanne and kick her ass.” Vinyl shoves me aside and jumps out of the lander. Thus, these are the first words spoken on this planet in the living memory. Hope she’s proud.

Trixie and I get out and look at another lander, parked about half a mile from us. I can see Aryanne taking an unnaturally long leap away from it and disappearing between the mushrooms. Kyrie has no such luck: she tries to fly, but every flap of her wings sends her way higher than she expects, making her somersault.

“It’ll take her a while before she gets there,” Trixie mutters. Meanwhile, Vinyl jumps forward, beating both the high jump and long jump world records at the same time. Impressive since she jumped without running; less impressive since she weighs less than a newborn foal.

We follow her. Long leaps seem to be the best way of moving forward here, especially if one also can reach the tops of the mushrooms; those are rather bouncy. Soon, however, I discover that the purple magical bubble surrounding the whole planet and holding the atmosphere together is hanging about a hundred metres above us – not a good news when you can jump ten metres high, bounce off the shrooms a few times and become the planet’s new moon.

Not to mention that it gets a bit tiring after a while. Even though we’re in the best physical condition after hibernation in the pods, I soon find myself a bit short of breath. But that’s nothing in comparison to Kyrie.

We can see her from there. She apparently figured out how to compensate for lower gravity while flying, but she still spins out of control from time to time and nearly reaches the top of the atmosphere. Aryanne is far ahead of her, almost in the place where the mushroom forest is replaced by some tall, thorny flowers. Meanwhile, we can almost hear Kyrie’s swearing.

“Hey, Kyrie!” Trixie bounces off the top of a tall shroom and tackles the pegasus in mid-air. Normally, it’d be a killer move, but Trixie lost a lot of weight in the pod, not to mention that we all move in slow-motion. However, it’s enough for Kyrie to panic. She flaps her wings and, with Trixie on her back pierces through the magic barrier.

“What the–” Vinyl stops in mid-air, watching the view while gently falling to the ground. Above her, Kyrie thrashes, but in vacuum, there’s no way for her to stop herself for flying away from the planet. Not to mention that they’re flying further and further away with Trixie, both of them wide-eyed, trying to catch a breath.

“We have to do something!” Vinyl shouts.

“What?” I ask, staring at them as they fly away. “They’re in outer space!”

Suddenly, I see the magic blast right above the bubble. It soon repeats, this time in the atmosphere. Holy shit. Even without air and in extremely low pressure, Trixie did the only sensible thing – she teleported herself and Kyrie back into the atmosphere.

Unfortunately, they’re also pretty away from us, falling towards the thorny plants. Trixie floats past them, but Kyrie, apparently born under unlucky star in the middle of a buffalo burial grounds, gets caught by one of the flowers, moving at a great speed for something that’s supposed to be immobile.

“Whoa.” Vinyl nods. “We’d better get to them.”

It takes only a few jumps to reach Trixie. She’s lying on the ground, bleeding from her nose and ears, but when we stand by her, she opens her eyes and looks around. The veins in her eyes also look terrible, either because of decompression or because of a hasty teleportation.

“How are you?” I ask.

“The Great and Powerful Trixie feels like she has a terrible hangover,” Trixie mutters. “And that she shat herself like she never did before.” She tries to get up. “Where’s Kyrie? Trixie hopes she left her in space…”

Suddenly, a large drop of something that looks like spit falls on the ground near us. We look up and see a humongous flower, now close, with a bit of a blonde tail protruding from it.

“No shit,” Vinyl says. “Whatever forces rule this universe, they do love to throw this mare concrete life buoys. Straight into the anus.”

“Indeed.” Trixie nods. “Do we leave her like that?”

I shake my head. “That wouldn’t be nice. Sure, she’s an idiot, but leaving her to be digested…” I shudder. “Which stem does this flower grow from?”

We look up at the thorny kudzu, trying to find its whole way down. It takes a while – all those damn stems look the same, but finally we locate the right one and aim our horns at it.

“On three…” I mutter. “One, two…”

The magic blasts hit the stem, snapping it in half. The flower twitches and slowly tumbles to the ground, hitting other branches, leaves, and buds on the way. It hits the surface not far away from us, opening upon impact, causing Kyrie to roll out of it.

It seems that the time spent in the pod healed her bruises, right in time to make a place for bloody marks from decompression, a layer of goo in her coat, and the mane partially burned by the plant’s juices. Hell, she probably died from all that damage.

“Scheisse…” she mutters, proving once and for all that imbeciles are immortal. “Wie spät ist es? Ich muss wegwerfen… Kaffee machen…”

“What is she talking about?” Trixie asks, eyeing Kyrie and wincing.

“Some random shit,” I reply, trying to recall my Pferdisch, but vocabulary fails me. Not to mention grammar, because it’s never quite been there. Finally, I do recall one word. “Dummkopf.”

“Deine Mutter ist dick,” Kyrie replies.

Well, that was low. No one’s gonna be offending my mother. I levitate Kyrie rather brutally, mostly because she’s lighter than she should be. Then, I mobilise my poor language skills. “Kein Zeit für talking, verstehen? Aryanne wants die Welt explodieren, und du hilfst her, moron. And you can’t even do that well. We keep have to save your ass.”

Kyrie tries to free herself from my magic. “Was hast du gesagt?”

My brain finally manages to form a coherent sentence. “Wir haben dein Arsch dreimal gerätet already!”

“Thank you. I am very grateful.”

I nearly drop her. I mean, she’d exhibited some knowledge of Equine before, but that doesn’t sound as her usual choppy single words said with an accent that could kill.

“Hey, she can talk!” Vinyl exclaims.

Kyrie smiles sheepishly. “I tries learn Equine but Aryanne say I have cat food for brain,” she says.

“For a good reason,” Trixie mutters. I glare daggers at her before turning back to Kyrie.

“What else did Aryanne say?” I ask.

“Voice from the rocket help me learn,” Kyrie says. Apparently their rocket never heard of past tense, but well, those voices use one’s brain to work, so there wasn’t much power to harness. “And Aryanne world not explode.” She smirks. “She make demons listen to her and rule die alle Welt. But she say she make them your Augen explode. She not like you.”

“My what?” I ask, to which Kyrie makes a round gesture.

“Ovaries?” Vinyl shrugs.

“Eyes,” Trixie replies.

Kyrie nods. “You think she mistaken?”

“Totally,” I reply, if only because I like my eyes. “Knowing such demons, they’ll rip her anus apart at the first occasion.”

“As opposed to Uranus, which is over there.” Vinyl points at the sky.

“I don’t get it,” Kyrie says.

I sigh. “The point is, Aryanne is your friend,” I say, trying to speak loudly and clearly. “Friends don’t let friends have their arse made into a bagpipe of a blind idiot god, right?”

Kyrie groans. “She’s not my friend!” she shouts. It’s fascinating, like watching an angry hamster. “She always push me or pull me or beat me and I have a scar on mein Arsch! Left me here to be food of die große Sonnentau!” She points at the plant.

Well, crap. That’s not what I expected. But a good general can quickly change the battlefield. “Well, there’s a tiny little chance that she may succeed,” I say. “You wouldn’t want her to rule the world, right?”

“Think how much she’d push you and pull you then,” Vinyl says.

“I know not.” Kyrie shrugs. “She is…” She looks at us, scanning her limited vocabulary for a right word.

“Cum-gobbling cuntbagel,” Vinyl mutters, causing Kyrie’s eyes to widen.

“Yeah, this,” Kyrie says. “But I still love her.” She shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“Dammit.” Trixie rolls her eyes. “Trixie thinks it’d be easier if you two got a room and talked it over. Without any of you trying to get those Stones of the Undead?”

“The Undead only complicate matters, you know,” I say. “Especially when it comes to love life.”

Kyrie nods. “Sure. Where’s Aryanne, then?”

Shit. We’re still in that creepy forest and Aryanne may be putting her hooves on stones of the undead right now. I look around, but I can’t see shit. I try to jump, but I can’t get too high as the flowers are looking for a catch. Apparently they evolved to eat anything that flies, which, in low gravity, makes a lot of sense.

At the third jump, I finally notice a top of a hill a few hundred metres from us. There are some black stones protruding from it. An interesting rock formation, I’d say. Maybe some ancient ruins, like the legendary Heldskalla at the bottom of the ocean on the Plowmare’s Planet. Well, except of all the water.

“Let’s go east,” I say. “There must be some civilisation in there.”

In fact, I have no idea if it’s east, especially since my stomach feels like the whole planet is spinning in the wrong direction. Or maybe it’s just the foal? Anyway telling them to go east sounds like I know what I’m doing.

Which, frankly, isn’t much. We walk towards the hill, slaloming between the trunks of the giant plants and scaring off something that looks like large moths with unproportionately small wings – I guess I know what those plants eat when ponies aren’t around. The moths aren’t dangerous. They just fly above our heads making high-pitched sounds.

“Hey, do you think they’re trying to control our brains?” Vinyl asks. “It seems to be a common thing for everything those Masters do.”

Correction: the moths may be dangerous.

“We’d need somepony with a brain to check that,” Trixie says. “But since no one with a brain volunteers to fly on this planet, they can’t show us their true colours.”

Trixie’s implication turns out to be more or less right as soon as we reach the hill. The rock formation I observed consists of a couple of spires made of black, slick, and shiny rock, looking a bit like anthracite. More slabs are scattered around the top of the hill, hidden in purple grass. Nothing beside remains. And among that, Aryanne stands, scratching her mane. She shudders and looks at me when I approach her.

“Rocks.” She grins. “Nothing but rocks. I arranged them in a circle.”

“We’re so proud of you,” I mutter, staring at the circle placed exactly between the spires. “Now stop being crazy and let’s go home.”

“Das ist Scheisse,” Aryanne says, weighing a stone in her hoof. “It doesn’t work.” She twitches.

“We come too late.” Vinyl nods. “She went mad.”

“I’m not mad!” Aryanne stands in the middle of the circle. “This doesn’t work!” She drops on the ground, panting. “I went to another planet and all I got was that crappy stone!”

“Try to put that on a t-shirt, you’ll earn millions,” I say. “Maybe those aren’t the Stones of the Undead. No use wasting time to find them.”

“Yeah, this place blows.” Vinyl looks around. “Maybe the stones are over there, near that clearing.”

“Don’t give her ideas,” Trixie mutters. “Those demons are already taking over. We’d better run.” She backpedals, revealing Kyrie, who was hiding behind her.

“Oh, Kyrie. You’re alive.” Aryanne smirks and throws the stone at Kyrie. It bounces off her wing doing no damage due to poor gravity. “It’s your fault that they don’t work!”

“And that’s what I call a toxic relationship,” Vinyl says. “Kyrie, you should leave her and shit on her doormat on your way out. Unless you’re into burning houses down, then you can do just that.”

“Dafür, kann ich ihr den Hals umdrehen?” Kyrie stretches her hooves.

“Sure, go and snap my neck.” Aryanne sighs, throwing another stone at Kyrie and missing. “The whole meticulous plan went to Scheiße...”

Trixie walks to me, watching as Kyrie approaches Aryanne. “We should intervene. They may kill each other or something.”

“Wait,” I say. “They’re gonna sort it out.”

Oh, how wrong I was. As soon as Kyrie walks between the black spires, she freezes for a painfully long second. Then, she drops on the ground, covering her ears. Aryanne watches it, stone-faced. For a moment, I think it’s her sadism, but then she looks at me and I notice her bloodshot eyes.

“My head is gonna explode soon,” she says in a happy tone, not matching her words at all. “Those stones work. They just let me go for a moment to take care of her and… use us… To free...” She freezes, gritting her teeth.

Well, shit. Behind me, Vinyl has enough and runs away, screaming something about her head exploding. Trixie stands still, but when I look back at her I notice the struggle between loyalty and common sense painted vividly on her face. I’m torn too. Leaving Aryanne and Kyrie here is an option, but if those things can use them to free themselves…

Well, I may take a chance, huh?

When I step into the circle, I expect pain and the feeling of the brain peeling off my skull. Nothing like that happens. I sense a surprise and mild pressure on my ears, which quickly increases. Words… Or not words, pictures form in my head. Both at once? Hell only knows.

Did you say ‘hell’? Because that’s what we’re gonna do to you.

We’ll turn you inside out like those two!

Hey! This one has another one inside! Also, nothing for aeons and a whole crowd now!

“Shut up!” I shout. I can sense a faint, trembling halo around Kyrie’s body and a bit stronger one around Aryanne. “What are you?”

Heard it? She told us to shut up! What is she thinking?

You don’t need to know what we are!

I see some dark silhouettes around me. Not sure what creatures are those, but I’d rather not see them in bright light. Definitely not ponies. I’m not sure they have any shape that’d be recognisable by someone used to three-dimensional space.

You done thinking? Better look when you can, or else…”

The pressure on my ears will soon make my head burst. “Just out of curiosity…” I mutter. “Is it true what they say? That the stones can control you?”

For a moment, I hear silence. Like, really hear. It’s more than just an absence of sound. It’s so silent it’s almost palpable. Then I tremble under the collective laughter of all the things that are out there, trying to, in their words, turn me inside out.

Why’d you need that? one of the voices asks. Even if you could destroy any of them to gain control, we’d never let you do tha–

Shut up! I sense a mental equivalent of being kicked in the leg. Several silhouettes move, surrounding one of them, who is waving its appendages and shouting in an high-pitched tone.

Think, Minuette! Before they look back at me, I aim my horn at one of the spires and fire a spell. It sends sparks around and hits the rock leaving a small dent in it.

Hey! Who let you do that?

I chuckle. “Blame that idiot who just told me how to control you…”

I hear thousands of shrieks, as they all start yelling at that one voice who shouts back in a grumpy tone. The pressure on my ears decreases; I can see Kyrie move slightly and Aryanne taking a deep breath.

I blast the spire with my magic. Some debris crumbles off, causing the creatures to scream. “Trixie!” I yell. “Destroy it!”

Not sure if Trixie hears me, but Kyrie definitely does. As I strike for the third time, she gets off the ground and rams into the weakened spire. It shakes visibly and, as I fall on my knees, reaching the reserves of my magic, it slowly topples, accompanied by the sounds I’ve never heard in my life before.

“Shut up!” I shout. To my surprise everyone shuts up. I can still see the silhouettes, albeit a bit more clearly. It doesn’t make them any more appealing, though, especially now when they apparently look at each other, trying to shift the blame.

What are your orders?

That’s it? What are my orders? Really, I’m sick of this shit. There’s only one order that comes to my mind.

“Go fuck yourselves!” I yell. “Eter-fucking-nally!”

I sense the cries of terror, as if a million voices suddenly found themselves on a receiving end of surprise buttsex. Will it always be that way? It doesn’t have to.

“And I don’t want to hear you anymore!” I shout. “And leave us alone.”

Everything disappears, leaving us in the middle of debris from the broken spire. Aryanne rubs her temples and takes a deep breath.

“Everyone okay?” I ask.

“Yes,” Aryanne says. “Now, if you’d be so nice to let me control them–” She doesn’t finish, instead dropping on the ground when Kyrie smacks her in the back of the head with a piece of a rock.

“Cum-gobbling cuntbagel!” She turns to me. “Good?”

I can’t help but smile. “Good.”

Wasting no more time on this little, creepy planet, we find Vinyl and drag unconscious Aryanne back to her lander. Kyrie ties her with duct tape with a skill that is almost uncanny. Guess they’re all into bondage. After that, we get back to our lander and after a while, we’re back in our respective rockets, orbiting the planet.

“What do you think will happen now?” Vinyl asks, watching Kyrie’s rocket flying away.

“Well, two months will have passed when we’re back on Earth,” I reply, sitting in my pod. “I wouldn’t count on the world waiting for us to accomplish our mission.”

Trixie sighs. “Too bad. Trixie got used to being worshipped.”

But of course. I shake my head and get comfortable in the pod, waiting to hibernate.

I sense a month of very realistic porn in my future…

The hibernation passes way too fast. When we wake up, we’re about to reenter the atmosphere, which means that currently we’re flying around the globe, while the system tries to calculate how to get back on the surface as close as to the starting point as possible. Why did it wake us up now, I have no idea. Maybe just so we can watch the flames around the rocket when we tear through the layers of increasingly dense air.

I’d rather stay in the pod, myself. Since another month passed, I’m now pregnant as fuck and feel really heavy. Not to mention that all those continents flying under me make me dizzy.

Finally, with a quiet puff, the parachutes are deployed, and we slowly drop into the sea by some frozen shore. I have a hard time pushing myself through the hatch, but when we finally climb on the rocket, I notice Kyrie, waving at us from her vehicle. She’s sitting next to grumpy-faced Aryanne, who is conscious, but still tied.

A bigger surprise awaits us on the shore. There’s an igloo there and in front of it, there’s Hexie. She’s wearing a bomber jacket and holding a fishing rod, apparently trying to catch something for dinner.

“You’re scaring the fish off!” she yells.

“Nice to see you too,” Trixie mutters. “We saved the world. How about you?”

“I’m fishing,” Hexie replies. “But some damn rockets keep falling into the water.”

Someone crawls out of the igloo. Lyra. “That’s because your approach is wrong,” she says and turns to us. “Don’t mind her. I keep telling her that she doesn’t know how to fish, but she keeps saying something about her father, the fishing fanatic.”

Hexie gives her a nasty glare. “Pytał się ciebie kiedyś o coś, kurwa, ktoś, kiedyś, coś?”

“Are you arguing again?” Inkie gets outside and smiles. “Minuette! Vinyl! Trixie! You’re back! We were waiting for two months!”

Lyra nods. “After you flew away, Daring Do paid Berry for your services and decided to explore some temples in Neighsia.” She shrugs. “She seemed pretty pissed that you left her here. Berry took Ruby back home, saying something about school and missed classes, and we stayed here with Blackcurrant Muffin.”

“Who’s still sorting out that supernatural mess,” Hexie adds. “We once were attacked by some slimy motherfuckers, but she fend them off. Oh, Vinyl, and you have a kid.” She points at the last pony to crawl out of the igloo – a small, foal-shaped blob of yellowish jelly, who trots to the shore and looks at Vinyl.

“Hello, mom!” it says.

“Aww, shit,” Vinyl mutters. “What’s your name, little one?”

“Muffin gave him some unpronounceable name,” Inkie replies. “Lyra called him ‘Extended Play’ and it stuck.”

“Well, some still call him ‘Little Shit’.” Lyra looks at Hexie and shakes her head.

“Why no one welcomes me?” Kyrie asks.

“Because they hate us,” Aryanne replies. Before Kyrie can tell her anything else, we hear some strange sound coming from under water. A moment later, a rusty submarine resurfaces next to Kyrie’s rocket.

Hexie throws the fishing rod on the ground and groans. “Really?!”

The hatch of the submarine opens, revealing another white pony with a blond mane, tied in two braids. She’s wearing leather shorts, long socks, and a green hat. She also levitates a large mug of beer.

“Kriegsmarine!” Aryanne exclaims. “Free me and let’s run! Kyrie went insane.”

“I can’t. They made me cooperate,” Kriegsmarine replies, pointing at the ponies leaving the submarine with her. Which are, in order, Bon Bon, Flitter, Cloudchaser, and those two agents we met in the Trottoman Empire. Belka and Strelka, I think.

“You two are arrested,” Cloudchaser says, pointing at Kyrie and Aryanne. “By half of the civilised world. In the Griffon Empire, you were sentenced to death for stealing an airship, but those two, umm…”

“Comrades,” Belka says.

“Yeah.” Cloudchaser sighs. “For some reason, they want Aryanne to spend twenty years in some remote facility where you dig up stones from the quarry and where your piss freezes before it hits the ground.”

“Stones?!” Aryanne pales even more – an impressive feat. “Never! I’d rather be killed.”

“Not so fast,” Bon Bon says. “The international council gathered and they decided that the biggest of your crimes was causing serious environmental pollution in Zebrica…”

Vinyl stands up. “Well, technically it was–”

“Shut up,” I mutter.

Bon Bon glares at us before continuing. “And thus, you’re sentenced to five years of studying friendship.”

“What?” Aryanne asks. “Zat’s ridiculous!”

“Worry not,” Flitter says. “You’ll study friendship in Zebrica…”

“No!” Aryanne screams and thrashes, but Flitter and Cloudchaser carry her away to the submarine anyway.

“For the record, Kyrie did nothing wrong,” I say, seeing that the pegasi are coming back to seize her. “She helped us catch Aryanne.”

“And where exactly did this happen?” Bon Bon asks. “And when?”

“Planet Yuggoth,” I reply. “Beyond your jurisdiction, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, really?” Bon Bon shrugs. “Guess that creates a serious legal problem, right?”

Strelka salutes. “In Hooviet Union, we solved serious legal problems long ago!”

“One bullet, one lawyer,” Bon Bon mutters. “The whole world rejoiced.” She turns to Kyrie. “I guess until your problem is solved, you may consider yourself under house arrest. Wherever your house is.”

Kyrie looks at the submarine. “I can study friendship with Aryanne…”

“Yeah, that’s how they call it nowadays…” Vinyl smirks.

“Trixie doubts it’ll work…”

I sigh. “We’ll worry about that in five years. Now, can somepony give me a lift to Ponyville? I’m freezing my ass off!”

“And that’s, my dear children and grandchildren, how the story ended. More or less. A few months later, I gave birth to son, who, as you can see, isn’t exactly a bat pony. Except for the eyes, I guess. His father tried to woo me again, but with the amount of travel we were both doing later, we could hardly ever meet in one place on the planet. And thus, he ended up with Wild Hunt. Apparently stallions do dig scars.”

“Yeah, mom. They gave me seven screeching siblings.”

“Oh, great. Despite being a half-bat pony, my son is kinda racist. Guess it’s auntie Ruby’s influence.”

“Hey!”

“Don’t argue, Ruby, you really have your moments, sometimes. Anyone have anything else to say before I try to conserve myself in alcohol? You, little one? Who are you?”

“Raspberry Jam. Cherry Berry’s second cousin’s seventh son.”

“Ah. No wonder I don’t know you. What did you want to ask?”

“What happened to Aryanne and Kyrie?”

“Ah, that’s an interesting story. One’d think they finally got together and lived homosexually ever after, but the truth is–”

Suddenly, I’m interrupted by the sound of something heavy hitting the wall. The party guests ran away, collectively diving behind the bar. All of them except Hexie, but over the last couple of decades, she gained enough muscle mass to bench-press the whole pub, so a mere wall is nothing for her.

The debris settles and I see Kyrie sitting in the middle of the pandemonium, shaking her head. She didn’t change a bit, maybe except of her hair getting a bit lighter. Also, she’s wearing some strange device, spewing smoke and flames in random directions.

“Did I make it to the party?” she asks when the dust clears. “Sorry for that, mein jetpack malfunctioned,” she says, looking at the mess she made.

“Well, you missed the whole story,” I reply. “What’s going on?”

“You need to go with me.” She stands up, the remains of her jetpack setting fire to the remains of the table. “Aryanne…”

“Is she trying to start an evil empire again?” I ask.

“Worse.” Kyrie opens a saddlebag that somehow survived the crash and produces a canvas from it. “She decided that she needed a hobby and chose this…”

I look at the canvas. “Holy shit! Who told her that she could paint?”

“Nopony.” Kyrie shrugs. “But when I told her it was hideous, she tried to blow my hut up.”

I nod. “So you’re telling me to go all the way to Zebrica to convince her that she should stop painting?” I throw the picture into the fire. “To Zebrica? It’s no country for old mares…”

“Worse still, her painting is so bad, every time she finishes a picture, the earth opens and demons come out, trying to worship it,” Kyrie mutters. “It’s pretty annoying, even for zebras, who are used to weird Scheisse like that.”

“Fighting demons?” I ask. “No way. I’m too old for this.”

“I’m fifty-five and just flew across the ocean with a faulty jetpack,” Kyrie says.

“Yeah,” one of my son’s ‘seven screeching siblings’ says. “Also, two days ago you kicked Moonlight Sonata across the room, because she told you you were old, auntie.”

“Yeah,” Ruby nods. “And ponies live over a hundred years anyway.”

I shrug and smirk at Kyrie. “Demons, you say? How many?”

“Enough for the two of us?” Vinyl asks.

“Three.” Trixie stands up.

“Four,” Ruby, Hexie, and Inkie say in unison. After a short discussion, Ruby agrees on “five” and Inkie gets a six.

“Okay…” I get out of the pub through the Kyrie-shaped hole in the wall and take a deep breath, standing in the middle of the airport. The evening sky is surprisingly inviting. Was I really planning to spend the rest of my life remembering the old days and ruling my family with an iron hoof?

Bullshit.

I grab my goggles and turn to Kyrie. “So, which way do we go?”

Author's Note

And thus, after two years, we're done.

...

For now.

There’s no way to turn thirty in this town without all the citizens waiting for you in your fridge.

Hello there, fillies and gentlecolts. I hope you all have something to drink, because it’s time for me to tell you a story. As my dear children probably wrote on the invitations, we all gathered here, in this comfy old pub, to celebrate my sixtieth birthday.

Some say that sixty is that magical age when pony goes to sleep as a young adult and wakes up as a serious, old mare, with a herd of children and grandchildren. You know, goodbye adventure, welcome pills, knitting needles, and saving the pension for a fancy coffin.

I’m gonna tell you, fillies and gentlecolts, what I think about it. Bullshit. It is all bullshit. Don’t look at me like that, motherfu– Oh wait, you’re my son. Pour me one more whisky and don’t say that I shouldn’t drink, because I know what I should and shouldn’t do!

Where was I... Oh yeah, sixty. I’m sixty and I feel as good as on that memorable day thirty years ago, when Vinyl opened this little pub. It didn’t have so much cool stuff on the walls back then, you know. All those propellers, flags, an octopus above the counter... It all came later and I’m gonna tell you about that, if my dear children stop interrupting me.

Thirty years ago... Those were times. Nowadays you all have that new stuff... Thirty years ago a plane was a rarity, especially a plane as cool as Hot Coco. Ponies weren’t such soft cunts like kids these days... What? Please, children were using worse words back in my days! Just ask auntie Ruby! Anyway, we all were, as you’d say, badasses. We had to be. There were hardly any roads, so if you wanted to go through Equestria, you had to either be a pegasus, take a train, or prepare for a few days of pulling a cart through the desert. Thanks to Cherry Berry and me, the planes became more common, but I’ll tell you about it later.

I’d want to say that it all started exactly thirty years ago, on the day of my thirtieth birthday, but I can’t. Big things take time, you know. Thanks for the whisky, Hannibal. Really, I should disown my children and give everything to my beloved nephew...

Big things take time. So, it didn’t start thirty years ago, but rather two years earlier, just after that memorable wedding when auntie Inkie and auntie Coco got married. I already told you about how we robbed mafia from Las Pegasus and how we ran away to Prance where they made us steal the sword of Cedric Lulamoon... Yes, your great, great-something grandfather... Umm... Trixie? How are your kids called again? Pixie, Dixie, and Starfall? Celestiadammit... Nevermind. The day after the wedding, Grace and I decided to go to a pub. I had money from our cache in the abandoned mine near the rock farm and, believing that the adventure was over, I decided to get crazy.

I woke up three weeks later in some hotel, barely remembering what happened. Glimpses. Snippets. Grace was nowhere to be found. Instead, I had to wake up two stallions, a bat pony pony and a zebra, and tell them to get the fuck out. See, granny could really play back then. Well, today I can play too...

Anyway, I woke up, unfortunately sober, told the stallions to get the fuck out, found a young filly in bed... Yeah, I partied that hard... Actually, I got pretty scared. I remembered something about asking her for her ID, but who knew what was real... I told the filly to get out too, then checked what was under the bed... Luckily there was no corpse there... Then I checked the closet. No corpses, no Chris Hoofsen. I sat on the bed, wondering how much money I wasted for alcohol and exclusive prostitutes. For a moment, I was worried that I managed to spend everything...

After I paid for the room and damages, I went to the bank and, to my relief, found out that there was quite a lot of money left. I... Back in that hotel room, I had a vision. I took the first train back to Ponyville and went straight to Cherry Berry.

She had ideas, I had cash. Well, she also had cash she got for repairing Aryanne’s airship, but I had more. We bought a piece of land a mile from Ponyville... Well, now it’s in the city centre, but back then it was a mile from the town. It took us a few months to build a hangar and even everything out. We put all the Cherry Berry’s prototype helicopters there. We bought parts and in another few months we had a couple of working, pedal-powered helicopters there. Back then, when you wanted to transport something heavy, you had to hire some pegasi. Our pilots were mostly earth ponies and pegasi. I personally trained Inkie to become the first one.

It took us a year to build a second hangar and buy a turboprop engine in the Griffon Empire. Do you remember Cherry Berry before the brain surgery? She couldn’t remember my name, but she could easily say all the parts of such an engine, even woken up in the middle of the night. In a few months, we built our first plane, Little Cadance.

Funny thing with that name, you know? Vinyl invented it. Where’s Vinyl? We should drink her health, I think. Here she is... Cheers, mate! May the trees our coffins will be made of grow for at least another sixty years!

The name. Vinyl invented it and, when I wasn’t looking, painted a nose art depicting... Well, she painted Cadance as one of her Prench fillies. One day we went on a test flight with Inkie. Little we knew that Princess Cadance visited her sister-in-law on that day and they were taking a walk through the streets of Ponyville, when we flew over their heads. They immediately took off, probably to ask us what was going on. I don’t know, since Inkie kicked the thrust lever and it turned out that no alicorn can outfly the griffonian turboprop engine.

There’s twenty miles or thirty two kilometres from Ponyville to Canterlot. The train back in those days was doing a longer route through Hollow Shades, not to mention all that climbing up the mountains, so it takes about two hours to get to the capital in the first-class carriage. An average pegasus from Ponyville, on a sunny day with no wind, needs about twenty minutes to fly and say hello to Princess Celestia. Rainbow Dash, in her youth, could fly there in one and half minute. We weren’t that good, I must admit. But still, after ten minutes of flight, we were flying a few metres from the tower of Princess Celestia’s castle.

Anyway, it took me a while before I persuaded Inkie that there’s a reason Cherry Berry taught us that her invention has four speeds we should always remember: the stall speed, that is the one we need to fly with to not fall, the cruise speed, which is safe, the maximal speed we were currently flying with, and a speed where everything was falling to horseapples. The last two were rather close to each other. Not surprising when you want to fit a big-ass engine into a biplane.

Luckily, we had to land before we started to lose parts. The reason for that was simple: before we took off, I told our mechanic, Hexagon Nut (also known as Nakrętka or Hexie) to tank the plane. Hexie, being from Ponyland, assumed that the gauge of our petrol pump was scaled in kilograms. I forgot to tell her that Cherry Berry’s complicated mind accepted only pounds, and even then, she usually called them “Bugrit! Millenium hand and shrimps!” or something similar.

To make matters worse, Cherry Berry didn’t install any kind of alarm telling us that we’re running out of fuel. We learned about it when the engines turned off. As a result, Inkie made a perfect emergency landing on a meadow somewhere between Hollow Shades and Manehattan. Twenty minutes later, we were joined by Princess Cadance, who told us that she really liked that picture of hers and asked us who drew it. Life is weird sometimes.

Anyway, we dragged Little Cadance back to Ponyville, and while Cherry Berry was repairing her and building a new plane, we started to slowly expand our small airport. Shortly before my thirtieth birthday, we decided to build a new office. My old office was just an old, half-burned desk in a hangar, next to Cherry Berry, who was usually drinking and yelling something at somepony invisible. It took us a while, but on the day when I turned thirty, the building was ready. I still remember that day, when I stood in front of the door and said...

“Okay, girls,” I say. “Who of you, imbeciles, had such a great idea?”

“You don’t like it?” Vinyl asks. “I spent a whole night painting it...”

“The painting is fine,” I reply, looking at the massive letters above the door. “It’s just the copywriting that’s fucked up... Who invented that motto?”

“You,” Vinyl replies.

“Me?” I ask, looking at her as if she was crazy. Maybe because she is. Maybe not like Cherry Berry, who is three stops beyond barking, but still. “When?”

Vinyl scratches her head. “You were, like, busy with that new plane when I ask you what to write above the door. You told me that you didn’t know, so I, like, asked you what’s your company about. You said something about transporting shit everywhere...”

I facehoof and shake my head. I could’ve seen that coming... “So you took it literally and that’s why there’s ‘Turner and Berry – We’ll Transport Your Shit, Like, Everywhere!’ written above the door?”

“Exactly,” Vinyl says, smiling proudly. “It’s, like, about that ‘like’, huh?”

Vinyl. Vinyl never changes. I trot forward to my office, deciding that I’ll think about it later. I open the door, turn on the light...

“Surprise!”

Of course. I forgot that my second pilot is the sister of Pinkie Pie. There’s no way to turn thirty in this town without all the citizens waiting for you in your fridge. Everypony is here, even Rarity. Last two years were kinda interesting for her – she found that Sparkler is her lost twin sister and then gave birth to a crystal pony. We still wonder who is the father. Sparkler is strangely quiet about that.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, trying to act surprised.

“It’s your birthday, silly!” Pinkie replies, giving me a party hat and a cupcake. I free from her grasp and go to look for some quiet corner to hide and somehow survive this party.

“Hello,” somepony says, patting my ass. I recognise the voice and turn around instead of kicking the owner to the next Friday.

Dinky Hooves, totally-not-a-sister of my self-proclaimed niece Ruby Pinch. Imagine Vinyl when she was eleven, and you get the idea. That weird kid who puts potatoes in her ass, uses a really big knife as a toothpick, and thinks Vinyl is funny. She’s levitating a present to me and smiling widely. “Happy birthday!” she exclaims.

“Thank you,” I mutter and open the present. Inside, there are two gems: a bigger, blue one, and a smaller which is almost black. “What are those?” I ask.

“You have to cast some spell on this blue one,” Dinky replies. “Then, if you hit it with the black one, it’ll cast the same spell.”

Oh yeah, I’ve heard about those. Most of magical guns use them – a simple magical attack is cast on the bigger gem and the smaller stone is built into a hammer. Hmm, I think I know what spell to use.

I light my horn and aim it at the bigger stone. Dinky’s eyes grow wider as she watches it shine and glow with inner, whitish light.

“Try it,” I say to Dinky. She grabs the stones and hits them against each other.

“Aaargh, my balls!” some colt screams, falling to the ground and clutching his family jewels.

“Sorry!” I say. “Put some ice on them. It should be fine.”

“Cool...” Dinky cooes, giving me the stones back. I think I’ll build some frame for them and give that magic gun to Inkie. After all, I can cast that spell myself too.

I walk to the corner where Ruby is sitting. She’s reading a book and trying to stop my actual nephew, Hannibal, from biting her hoof. Since Hannibal is two year old, he doesn’t quite get the message.

“What the hell is wrong with this kid?” Ruby mutters.

“Well, since you’re my niece and he’s my nephew, you’re technically cousins,” I reply. “Or siblings.”

“No, thanks.” Ruby rolls her eyes and looks at Dinky. “One ‘special’ sibling is enough.”

Geez. In a few years, this kid is going to weaponise puberty. Or alternatively, she’ll become a cute and well-behaved teenager.

Hannibal finally managed to bite Ruby. “You little son of a–”

“Don’t,” I say. “While I agree with your opinion about his mother, you’d better not voice it loudly. Your mom already thinks I taught you those words.”

“Fuck it, my mother is already wearing a lampshade,” Ruby mutters.

I turn back. Indeed, Berry Punch is dancing on my desk with Vinyl, a lampshade on her head. My father is sitting next to them, playing guitar. When did this party escalate?

“You know what?” Vinyl shouts to the crowd. “There’s not enough place here. Let’s go to my pub! Tonight is stand-up night! Open mic! Happy hours!”

The crowd cheers and rushes out of my office. I go with them, because why not? It’s my birthday, after all. Too bad Trixie is not here – she left Ponyville soon after getting her part of the money and I haven’t heard from her since then. She’d be a good stand-up comedian. Now, we will either get killed by Vinyl’s jokes, or drown in awkward silence. Unless some new talent will show up...

“Do you know that Princess Cadance tried stand-up once?” Bon Bon asks the (mostly drunk) audience, staring at them and holding the microphone firmly. “But she didn’t do well. Her jokes were alicorny!” She laughs. Berry Punch, Cherry Berry, Pinkie Pie, Dinky, and Derpy laugh. The rest of the guests smacks their hooves against their foreheads.

“I’m gonna hire her here,” Vinyl says, pouring me another whisky. “When she tells jokes, everypony starts to drink.”

I nod, looking around the pub. It’s still quite new – it was built when we were starting our business. Sometime during the events known as The Mystery of the Exploding Outhouse.

“Are you gonna hire all of them?” I ask. I don’t know if you heard, but Bon Bon has split personality. Hell, each of them has its own voice. There are at least six known: Bonnie, Boney, Bon Boy, Bonsoir, Bon, and Boner. Boner doesn’t show up often and Lyra says that she smacks Bon Bon in the head with a chair every time it happens.

Judging by the slight Prench accent, we are now entertained by Bonsoir. Who, according to Lyra, is a stallion.

“And that reminds me: I once went to the Crystal Empire. Kinda boring, you know. Snow and crystals, like in a meth lab. One day I saw a stadium and went to see a baseball game. Guess what I saw there...” Bon Bon is greeted with silence. “Crystal Umpire!”

I groan, along with all the patrons. Bon Bon doesn’t seem to notice that.

“You’d better get rid of her,” I say. “You have a trapdoor here, right?”

“Yeah,” Vinyl replies. “But then I’d have to go there and tell them a story how I got a scar on my flank.”

“Pinkie knows it,” I say. “Half of the town also knows it because of that. And I know it because I had to put out the fire.”

“Yeah...” Vinyl looks around. “This place seems empty. I’d need some trophies to hang on the walls.”

“What trophies?” I ask.

“Something from your adventures,” Vinyl says, smirking.

“I don’t have adventures, I deliver stuff,” I reply. “What can I give you? A propeller? A package? The teeth of the last guy who tried to get cargo from Inkie without paying?”

“Inkie?” Vinyl looks at Inkie, who is in the corner of the pub, kissing with Coco. “No way.”

Well, I wouldn’t believe that myself. Inkie was always pretty strong and when Berry Punch learned about that, she immediately wanted to spar with her. You know, when we were teenagers, Berry had a shot at wrestling.

Those were cool times. She was known as 3M (Mysterious Masked Murderer), while I was known as 5M (Minuette: Mysterious Masked Murderer’s Manager). It was all going well until one day when Berry had a drink before the fight. She remembered that she was a heel, but she immediately forgot that she was supposed to eventually lose the fight. That poor buffalo girl who fought her didn’t see it coming – a chair to the face, kick to the stomach, facesitting, and a move known since then as Geneighva Convention. You know, because Geneighva Convention banned gas attacks.

Anyway, Berry and Inkie met in the gym, despite Coco’s pleas. Good thing that it happened, actually. We found a fundamental flaw in Inkie’s fight style – after performing the best Applebuck I’d ever seen, Inkie waited for Berry to stand up. Berry didn’t waste the chance.

Since then, we spent a lot of time teaching Inkie to fight dirty. Celestia forbid us.

“I was also in Hoofington once,” Bon Bon continues, even though nopony listens to her. “I lived in a hotel called ‘Song’. But I couldn’t find my key, so I broke into song...”

Somepony walks to me. I turn to see Lyra and some mysterious cloaked figure. Just what I needed on my birthday. “May I ask you something?” she asks.

“Sure,” I say. “But if you want somepony to beat the crap out of your marefriend, ask Inkie.”

“No, it’s not that,” Lyra says, pointing at the cloaked pony. “My boss wanted to talk to you.”

“Wait, weren’t you working for Dar–”

“Ssh!” the cloaked pony hisses, throwing nervous look at Rainbow Dash who is flying above the dancing crowd.

“Okay,” I mutter. “Professor Yearling then, right?”

The cloaked pony who is totally not Daring Do stares at the bottle of Moose Kiss beer Vinyl is holding. “Call me Moose Kiss,” she says. “You see, I’m preparing a quest...”

“A quest, you say?” I ask, making a professional expression. After all, it’s normal – you go to the pub and you get a quest.

“I have to transport all the things I need a few hundred miles away from Equestria,” not-Daring Do says. “Rough terrain, jungle... Also, Ms. Heartstrings and I could use some good companions.”

“Well, we can always get a few helicopters there, but it’ll cost...” I say. I’d rather not mention that my company is called “Turner and Berry – We’ll Transport Your Shit, Like, Everywhere!”, not “Psycho badasses for hire”. Though I may extend my business soon.

“Also, the less vehicles, the better.” not-Daring Do looks around, even though nopony listens to us, except of Vinyl, who’s drinking beer. “Possibly one. There are other ponies who want to put their hooves on this.”

“It’ll be hard,” I say. “I mean, ‘Little Cadance’ needs repairs and it’s not good in rough terrain. I need to ask Cherry Berry when our new plane will be available. Also, I need to ask: is this dangerous?”

I can see her wincing under her hood. “Maybe.” Her eye twitches.

“Yeah... Just what I thought.”

“Ten percent of the total income,” she says. “Of course, I’m covering all the expenses.”

“Thirty,” I say. “Is that thing illegal?”

“I don’t think so,” the cloaked pony replies. “Fifteen percent.”

“Fifteen, and you’ll thank us in the book you will totally not write,” I say. “And some cash from the royalties.”

She sighs. “Okay. You say you have a plane? I want to see it.”

“This may be a problem,” I mutter. “You see, Cherry Berry doesn’t like when somepony watches her unfinished problems. But I can talk to her.” I look at the crowd and see that Cherry Berry is resting her head on the table and snoring. “Be right back.”

I walk to Cherry and shake her. “Wake up, old drunk!” I shout into her ear. “We have a client!”

Cherry opens one eye and looks at me. “And when the time will come, the gods will turn their arses on us and say ‘thou have no balls’,” she says surprisingly clearly for a pony who reeks of distillery.

“Yeah, maybe later,” I mutter. “We have a very important client. She’ll give us a lots of money, but she needs to see your new plane, get it?”

“Money?” I can almost hear some rusty gears turning in Cherry’s head. “Now?”

“Yes, now,” I reply, trying to help her up.

“Fuck it, I’m going to sleep,” Cherry mutters and puts her head back on the table.

“It’s Daring Do,” I say.

“Daring Do?” Cherry exclaims in a raspy voice. “Let’s go!” She stands on the chair and raises her hoof.

“Daring Do? Where?” someone in the crowd asks.

“Nowhere!” I reply, forcing Cherry to stand on her hooves. “It’s just Cherry being Berry... Or something like that. Come on, Inkie, help me walk her home. You too, Moose Kiss.”

Inkie and Coco also rush to help us. Hell, even Vinyl jumps over the counter, levitating a few bottles of beer. So much for stealth.

We walk out of the pub. Vinyl gives me a bottle. I look at it and see that she replaced “k” on the label with “p”. Way to go, Vinyl.

“Why are you going with us?” I ask Vinyl. “Aren’t you afraid about the pub?”

“I trust Lyra on this,” Vinyl replies. “Also, it’s the only occasion to go on an adventure with Daring Do. Not to mention that I need to take a leak.”

“You have a toilet in the pub,” I say. “Not to mention that our outhouse is gone and you know about it well.”

Vinyl makes a move as if she was rolling her eyes – it’s hard to say since she’s still wearing her sunglasses. “I want to unite with the nature. And aerate my private bits.” She spots a handy group of bushes and disappears between them.

“Friend of yours?” Daring Do asks. She took off her hood and looks at the bushes, raising her eyebrows.

“Yeah,” I reply. “I think one of her ancestors was a dog – she marks the terrain anywhere she goes.”

“Strange,” Daring Do mutters. “But useful in the places where there’s no water. One guy in Oatstralia told me to always keep a jar–”

“Yeah, my father told me that they say that shit to tourists,” I reply. “By the way, how much stuff do you want to take with you? I have a crew, you know.”

“Who’ll be there?” Daring asks. “Can you trust those ponies?”

“Well, this one here is my second pilot, Inkie Pie. Inkie!”

“Yes?” Inkie finally stops looking into Coco’s eyes. Damn it, I’ve never seen such a good couple.

“Come here and soothe our client’s paranoia.”

“Okay...” Inkie looks at Daring and blushes. “My name is Inkie, I’m twenty-one and I spent most of my life on the rock farm. Now I’m training to be a pilot. I’ve never met Ahuizotl and frankly, I wish I wouldn’t.”

“We may meet him.” Daring Do sighs. “And that mare over there?”

“It’s Coco, my wife. A fashionista,” Inkie replies.

“And you’re a rock farm girl, huh?” Daring Do asks. “Yeah, the strong, silent types...”

“I’m fighting my anxiety,” Inkie mutters. “When this guy didn’t want to pay, I told him that I will resort to physical violence, but he didn’t listen.”

“Anyone else?” Daring turns to me.

“Hexie, our mechanic,” I reply. “She’s recently learned Equine, so you she can be that funny foreign pony. If you write a book, that is.”

“I’ll see,” Daring Do says, watching Vinyl emerging from the bushes. “Better?”

“Better,” Vinyl replies. “Let’s go.”

We walk to the hangar in silence. Cherry produces the key (I guess she keeps it in her tail). She opens the smaller door next to the main gate and we enter the dark building.

“I can’t see shit...” Vinyl mutters.

“Take your sunglasses off,” I say, lighting my horn. Still, it doesn’t help much – I can avoid tripping over the stuff on the floor, but nothing more than that.

“Can you turn on the light?” Coco asks. “I’m afraid of the dark.”

“... and then the darkness will come and swallow us all...” Cherry Berry replies. “There will be weeping there and gnashing of teeth...”

“Stop right there, criminal scum!” somepony shouts in the darkness. “I’m armed and dangerous! Your mom will use your ass as a sieve!”

“Hexie? Is that you?” I ask. “It’s me, Minuette. We wanted to see the plane.”

“Oh really?” Hexie asks. “Then tell me how did we meet...”

“You were a mechanic on the air–” I’m interrupted when the lights of the hangar blind me. Hell, they blind everypony except of Vinyl, who is still wearing her sunglasses.

“Let there be light!” Cherry Berry exclaims, standing by the switch and smiling proudly. Hexie is lying in her hammock, holding something that looks like Ruby’s BB gun. Which makes me wonder where is Vinyl’s shotgun we borrowed over two years ago and forgot to give it back.

“Okay, I see,” Hexie mutters, lowering the gun. “So, umm... the plane is here.”

Daring Do turns to the machine and nods. It already looks fairly impressive, even though it’s mostly the bare frame with engines and steering. The fuselage is generally ready, but it’s still lying in crates stacked in the corner of the hangar. Two engines are mounted close to each other on the parasol wing – they won’t get flooded if we land on water. It’s much bigger than Little Cadance and, even though it uses normal engines, it’s supposed to be faster.

“So, when is it going to be ready?” Daring Do asks.

“We can put it together in two weeks, but we’ll have to test it then,” I reply. “It may take up to six months.”

Daring Do sighs. “Can’t you make it a bit faster? I’m not the only one looking for that thing.”

“Well, if you don’t want everything to fall apart...” Hexie shrugs. “Especially since our main engineer is a bit... eccentric.”

“Divide by cucumber error. Please reinstall Universe and reboot,” Cherry Berry states, resting herself against Daring Do, who fails to dodge her. “Also, we don’t have a name for it.”

“I have!” Vinyl exclaims, producing a piece of dirty paper. “I already sketched the nose art.”

“I’m not letting you paint anything on this plane,” I mutter, seeing the rest of my companions gathering around Vinyl and tilting their heads while watching the picture. I trot to them and take a look. A surprisingly well-drawn pony in there is definitely Coco Pommel. Or rather, her ass, since she’s standing back to the viewers, turning her head to them and staring at them with bedroom eyes.

“Nice,” I mutter. “Wonder what Inkie has to say about that, though.”

“Well, I wonder how did you make Coco pose...” Inkie gives Vinyl a glare suggesting that she may stop being nice to her for a while.

“I’ve drawn it from memory! I swear!” Vinyl exclaims. “We already have Little Cadance, so why not Hot Coco?”

“I’m surprisingly okay with that,” Coco mutters, her face turning bright red. “It’s a nice picture...”

“See?” Vinyl smirks. “She likes it.”

“Okay,” Daring Do says. “Name doesn’t matter when we don’t have a plane. How about this one?” She points at Little Cadance. It’s far from what you’d call a “flyable condition” – battered fuselage and paint peeling off. We don’t use it that much – it’s good for longer distances. Pedal-powered helicopters are all what we need to get from Las Pegasus to Manehattan and back. And we usually make shorter routes.

“I guess we can prepare it to fly in a week,” I reply. “But it’s not as fast and can’t carry that much stuff.”

“Well, the first travel won’t be that long,” Daring Do replies. “Maneaus, Marezil.”

“The first, you say?” I ask. “There will be more?” I already start counting. If this turns out to be profitable, our company may really take off.

“Probably,” Daring Do replies. “Depending on what we find.”

“Okay,” I say. “You and Lyra can start bringing your stuff here. We’ll take Little Cadance for a ride. Who knows, maybe we’ll get Hot Coco on our next trip?” It sounded less dirty in my head.

“Sure,” Daring Do says. “It’ll take a while anyway... I have to make some more preparations.” She yawns. “How about talking about it tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” I reply. I’m also rather sleepy and I want to follow Hexie who goes back to her hammock. “Thanks for the wishes, everypony. Goodnight.”

I wake up with a slight hangover. This is not bad, since I at least woke up in my own bed, without any strange ponies sleeping with me. I raise from the bed and take a look on the two stones on my nightstand – the gift from Dinky, I guess.

I smirk and levitate the stones, walking downstairs, to my basement. I have a small workshop there, filled with various stuff I use to repair watches. Well, it’s been a while since I repaired any watch, but you get the idea.

It takes some rummaging through the drawers to find the right parts. I levitate a screwdriver to put the elements of the frame together; I put the smaller stone in the spring-loaded hammer and connect it to the trigger. Inkie will need to cock it after every shoot, but, after all, how many guys can attack us at once? And she doesn’t have to fry the balls of every single one.

I get the smaller screwdrivers – time to add a safety catch in case Vinyl ever puts her hooves on it. The final result looks like two crystals mounted onto a half of the revolver’s frame. Small and elegant (if there’s something elegant in attacking the others’ family jewels) – I’ll definitely feel better about Inkie if she keeps it by her side.

To think about it, I’m gonna call it Jewel Gun. The pun is too hard to resist.

I hear grumbling in my stomach and realise that it’s almost noon. I walk out of my basement and trot to Vinyl’s pub – if I’m not mistaken, she’s currently serving so called “hangover breakfasts/dinners” – lots of spicy stuff and coffee for half a price.

The pub is almost empty, except of Bon Bon, who’s resting herself against the table and probably regretting all the sins she committed yesterday. There were apparently more guests here, judging by the fact that Vinyl is washing the dishes, whistling some happy tune.

“Hello,” she says, seeing me. “What brings you here?”

“Your famous hangover breakfast,” I reply. “Or rather dinner, I think.”

“Okay,” Vinyl mutters. “So, one Capsaicin Evisceration for you, right?”

“Yes, please,” I mutter. After a while I get a plate of something reddish that probably died a while ago and was since then drowned in chilli and warmed up a few times. Which actually makes it better. You know, Vinyl’s cooking is balancing on the thin line between “actually edible”, “poisonous”, and “why did no one weaponise this?”.

Without looking at my food (since I don’t like when it stares back at me), I levitate the first spoonful of it to my mouth. Even though I’m pretty used to that stuff, it still manages to burn its way through my oesophagus and cause a small revolution in my stomach. I grab a glass of water and take a long sip. Somehow, it evaporates halfway through.

“You okay?” Vinyl asks. “I think today’s batch is a bit weak, you know?”

“M-maybe,” I mutter. The rest of the dish is much easier to swallow due to my taste buds being burned out by the first portion. Still, I’m gonna regret it later. Maybe it won’t be the Exploding Outhouse, but still not a very pleasant experience.

While I’m eating, some pony wearing a dark cloak walks into the pub. Oh, come on! Wonder what kind of shady business he has to do here?

Of course, he walks to me. “Good morning,” he says.

“Morning,” I reply. “I’ve heard that one’s supposed to wear those cloaks in the evening.”

“Maybe,” he replies. “But I have a message for you that can’t wait till the evening.”

“A message?” I cock the Jewel Gun under the table. “What message?”

“Don’t travel with Daring Do,” the cloaked pony replies. “Or else, you’ll get into trouble.”

I shake my head. “It’s not the first time I get into trouble. I’ll take a risk.”

He sighs and reaches under his cloak. “I think we’ll manage to– Aargh!” He clutches his balls, which just got hit by the Jewel Gun and falls off the chair. Bon Bon wakes up, looks around, and goes back to sleep. Before the guy can stand up, I kick him, revealing a bag of bits he was about to give me.

“So, you were trying to bribe me?” I ask.

He nods, rolling on the floor and holding his crotch. Vinyl walks out of the kitchen and looks at the scene, raising her eyebrows.

“Sorry for the mess,” I say, putting the bits on the counter and leaving the pub.

Author's Note

Art by arcanelexicon

I never expected that I’d tell that story to a bunch of hippies, but, as The Book of Vinyl Scratch says, one has to adapt or end up in a plastic bag at the bottom of the Horseshoe Bay.

I swear, my little ponies, that what I’m telling you is true. We really fought a bunch of ninjas in the middle of Mexicolt City and everyone can confirm that. Right?

“Right. I shot one in the arse... Fun times.”

“I wasn’t that drunk. It’s just my fighting style.”

See, kids? Sometimes truth is weirder than fiction. And no, kid, we didn’t make it up. Whose kid is that, anyway? Yours, Trixie? I knew it. Tell her to go to sleep, since it’s getting kinda late and we still have a lot of story to tell. No time for dealing with little brats. Can someone give me another whiskey? Thank you dear.

So, most of our travel to Maneaus was rather boring. You know, those were times when you really had to stop in a few places to refuel, instead of flying directly anywhere you want. Most of those places looked exotic – a beach next to a platform, a small clearing in the middle of the jungle... Nice, but pretty boring once you got used to it. Not to mention that we were in each of them only for a few hours – enough to get fuel and some sleep.

“Hey, and I got laid in each of them too!”

Oh yeah. And Vinyl got laid in each of them too. Though I’m pretty sure bananas don’t count.

“It was only once!”

Nevermind. Before we all gross you out with old mares’ sexual habits, I’m gonna tell you that before we reached our last stop before Maneaus, we were really, really bored...

When I was drinking in Cloudsdale,
I met some pretty colt;
He had a long and fluffy tail,
and was a Wonderbolt!

And then I went to Hoofington,
for vodka and roll in the hay;
I wanted both and I got none,
So I went to the Horseshoe Bay.

In Baltimare I went to a pub,
where I met a little runt;
my kitty could use a gentle rub,
so I showed him all my stunts.

“Could you be a little quiet?” I ask, clenching my hooves on the stick. “I’m trying to land us here in one piece.”

Vinyl rolls her eyes. “Hey, you sung with me and Lyra for the last two hours!”

“Exactly,” Inkie mutters. “How many verses does this song have? I stopped counting after the Ponyville one, in which colts behind the mill could give you a thrill, or something like that.”

“I’m pretty sure there’s one or two for every town in Equestria,” Lyra replies. “At least that’s what Bonnie told me.”

“Wow, that girl from the song really gets around.” Vinyl smirks. “And about the mill... It’s totally true. Same with Trottingham.”

“Well, that one was a little saucy, considering the fact that we have a filly on the deck,” I mutter, looking at the ground. Another tough landing in the middle of the jungle, infested by chupacabras and other stuff that looks like a work of a drunk amateur taxidermist. And probably nopony speaks Equine.

“Oh, please,” Ruby mutters, appearing suddenly behind my back. I need to tell that little drongo to stop doing this, or else we’re gonna crash. “I know some more verses of this song... Some of them pretty saucy.” She stands straight and sings:

In Appleloosa, all the guys,
went out and got lost in the corn;
I met a filly with yellow eyes,
and we played with her horn.

“I really hope there’s nothing about my rock farm,” Inkie says.

“Then you should make one,” Vinyl replies. “How long till we land? I wanna smoke.”

“Fifteen more minutes,” I reply, ignoring the fact that Inkie starts humming the melody.

“You know, I invented a verse once,” Daring Do says. “It takes the song beyond Equestria.”

“Oh, please...” I mutter, but she’s already singing.

In City of the Thousand Suns,
I once walked through a temple gate;
when I walked out, holding my buns,
I couldn’t really walk straight.

“City of the Thousand Suns?” I ask. “Where is it?”

“In Maretonia,” Daring Do replies. “The ruins of the temple are a home of a rather foul-mouthed demon. I barely managed to save my ass.”

“Was it a handsome demon?” Vinyl asks.

Daring Do shrugs. “His idea for a romantic date was strapping me to the altar, cutting my heart out, and using the wound as a–”

“Enough,” Ruby says. “Auntie Minuette’s gonna soon put her hooves on my ears and she needs them to pilot the plane.”

“Clever girl,” I say. “Now, go back to your seats and fasten your seatbelts. This may be a rough landing.”

I circle above the airstrip. Our current destination is a small village of lumberjacks who are plowing their way through jungle, providing exotic wood for countries which don’t have it. Personally, I think oxygen is more important, but since you can’t bottle and sell it, ponies have to look for jobs elsewhere.

When I lower the flight, I notice something strange. It’s the middle of the day, yet nopony is working there. The machines are standing in the middle of piles of fallen trees, but the whole place is devoid of ponies. Maybe they all got drunk? Or maybe they’re hunting a chupacabra? Not sure why – those things are only dangerous to goats.

“I don’t like this,” Inkie mutters, watching the ground. “What is that airstrip covered with?”

“Mud, I’m afraid.” I look at the ground. “One wrong move and the whole plane will be arse-over-tits. We’ll do that gently.”

“Last time I heard that, I couldn’t walk for three weeks,” Vinyl mutters.

“We’re not interested in your anal experiences,” I say. “Go and fasten your seatbelts because I’m not gonna scrape you from the ceiling.”

“Who said anything about anal?” Vinyl asks. “That’s what a surgeon said when they were fixing my ankle.”

“What is anal?” Ruby asks.

I poke the stick slightly – enough for the plane to twitch in a way making everypony think about their lives. “Go to your seats and fasten your seatbelts, girls,” I say when they stop screaming. “Last thing I need when landing is you watching my hooves. Ruby, remember the joke about the Neighponese golfer Vinyl told you despite my protests?”

Ruby nods. “So that’s how it’s called!” She winces. “Gross.”

At least they finally leave the cockpit. Inkie and I look at the controls. Everything looks normal, but it doesn’t change the fact that we’re trying to land on a muddy clearing in the middle of the jungle, and our engineer has a hangover.

“You okay?” I ask Hexie, who’s sitting on her seat with headphones on her ears.

“I get that no one’s there, but can’t even catch them on the radio,” Hexie replies. “It’s like nopony’s home.”

“Strange,” Inkie says. “Everywhere we landed so far, the locals were watching us all the time. I can’t even see anypony on the ground.”

“Not like it’s a bad thing,” I mutter. “Remember that kid at the previous airport? If our brakes were a bit worse, the wing would cut his head off.” I switch on the radio. “Hello. Anypony there?”

The only reply is silence, interrupted only by light static.

“We’re going to land in the middle of that brothel you have here,” I say. “I think you should know.”

Still silence.

“Fuck you, I’m landing.” I steer the plane towards the clearing. Landing in such a place is like... well, imagine that your partner’s parents invited you to a dinner. Landing in here can be compared to a situation in which you have a seizure while peeing in their bathroom. No room for a mistake.

I set the flaps in the landing position, pull the throttle lever and take a sharp nosedive right after the trees disappear below us. For a moment we’re flying straight into the ground, but then I pull up sharply. My stomach decides to travel from my throat to my ass, but after a while I see the sky appearing in the place where it should be – above us. A stall warning blinks at us, but at the same moment the wheels touch the ground.

Inkie brakes hard – it usually takes us about two hundred metres to stop completely, but I’d rather not ram into some big friggin’ wood-cutting thingy someone put one hundred and ninety nine metres from the place where we touched the ground.

“Well, bugger,” I mutter, feeling how the tyres bury in the mud. I turn off the engine, but we’re still going.

“We’ll either slide and crash into the trees or catch some hole and collapse,” Hexie informs calmly. “Let’s hope nopony in the back needs to go to the toilet.”

The brakes screech and I’m thrown at the control panel. After a while, the force disappears and I feel that we’re slowing down. Something splashes on the windshield – after a closer examination, it turns out to be a cluster of bananas. The propeller cuts through some leaves and we stop right in front of a large tree. It must be ebony or something.

“Everypony fine?” I ask.

“Vinyl threw up!” Lyra yells from the back of the plane.

“Again?” Inkie asks. “Come on, this landing wasn’t that bad.”

“It was perfect.” Hexie shrugs. “We can still use the plane.” She unfastens her seatbelt and stands up. “Now, let’s see what’s going on in here.”

“There’s something wrong here,” Daring Do says, stepping out of the plane and straightening her wings.

I shrug. “Their radio is off. It’s probably nothing.” I follow her and look around. “Though it doesn’t explain why there’s nopony in here.” I scratch my head. “Okay, let’s face it: the situation seems more fucked up than Late Night with Trenderhoof.” I put on my shutter shades. They’re a bit campy, but I simply lost my regular sunglasses somewhere.

“Hey, maybe something came from the jungle and ate them, leaving no trace?” Ruby asks, smirking and taking the BB-gun off her back.

“I was on Late Night with Trenderhoof once,” Vinyl says. “Also, Minuette, you just lost the right to poke fun at my sunglasses.”

“Shut up. At least I’m not wearing them all the time.”

“There’s always a trace,” Daring Do mutters, picking up a leaf. “There must be. And Trenderhoof gave up on me after I told him to get lost for the fifth time.”

“Well, some things that come from the jungle don’t mind traces.” Lyra stretches her hooves and trots through the clearing, watching the empty huts.

Daring Do turns to her. “Yup. Like that tribe which lives in Maregentina. They nail their victims’ guts to a tree and make them run around it till it all unfolds. And they place bets on how many laps you can run.”

Inkie stops in her tracks. “Maybe we should find some other place to refuel?” she asks.

Daring Do shrugs. “Well, it’s unlikely they wandered here…”

“Still, I’d prefer my guts to be inside.” Vinyl spits on the ground and levitates a cigarette. “Can I smoke here? They’re already cutting down this forest and I’d rather not burn it or something.”

“Don’t worry. It should rain in a few hours.”

“Pegasi senses?” I ask. “Nice to know. I still have to bother with atmospheric front and the fact that some members of the weather team are little cu–“

“There are no weather teams here,” Daring Do says. “Not enough pegasi and the whole area is huge. The climate’s warm and there are lots of plants here, which means high humidity. You don’t have to be a pegasus to know that there’s rain every evening.”

“Well, it may clear the atmosphere a bit,” I say. You know, this whole place smells. All that plants Daring talks about release pollen, rot, try to attract insects, and do other things plants usually do. As a result, the air has a not very subtle odour of a junkyard in the middle of a hot Summer. The fact that we’re sweaty and it’s hard to take a shower on a plane only adds to the unique flavour.

“Kurwa,” Hexie mutters under her breath. Due to millions of years of evolution, she has a thick fur, useful in cold climate of southern Ponyland. Unfortunately, evolution didn’t predict that ponies may want to travel more. “Are we gonna stay here for long?”

“Dunno,” I reply, standing in the middle of the clearing. “What should we do about the fact that the whole settlement of lumberjacks apparently evaporated?”

“Steal their fuel and get the fuck out,” Ruby mutters. “And check the huts for their stuff. It’s not that they’re gonna use it anymore.”

“Hmm…” Vinyl looks around. “Split up and investigate?”

Interestingly, it’s not me who smacks her. Daring Do’s wings connects with the back of Vinyl’s head before I can even raise a hoof.

“I split up once,” Daring Do says. “Seventy ponies died.”

“Okay.” Vinyl shudders. “Let’s investigate together.”

“Let’s start with those guys’ huts,” I say. Like Ruby said, the lumberjacks apparently won’t use their stuff anymore and I can’t let that little shit get all the cool items before me.

“Is there anypony out here?” Lyra yells, her voice echoing through the village. “Hello?”

“Shut up,” I whisper. “Do you really want to see how many laps you can go with your guts nailed to the tree?”

“I found a hammer.” Ruby levitates said tool and turns to Daring Do. “You may be onto something with those guys.”

We walk between two huts – Lyra and Ruby are with me, while Daring, Inkie, and Hexie search the other alley. Meanwhile, Vinyl ducks behind one of the huts, probably to take a leak.

“What if we really meet some cannibals?” Lyra asks.

“They won’t take us alive.” Ruby swings the hammer. “That’d be ironic if we ate them.”

“We’re not eating anypony,” I say. “Even though they seem to have eaten the lumberjacks. How could an entire village disappear anyway?”

“Maybe we’ll ask that strange mare over there?” Lyra asks.

I look in the direction she’s pointing at. There’s indeed some mare there. She’s green and has a red mane which has apparently reached the stage of self-consciousness some time ago. I bet that even if Ruby hit her with a hammer, she wouldn’t feel anything.

“Namaste, wanderers,” she says, raising her eyebrows. Damn, those eyebrows. She can probably hide a small civilisation in them.

“Hey, I know her,” Lyra whispers. “She was at the Grand Galloping Gala a year ago.”

“What?” I ask.

“You know, when a pissed-off draconequus tries to send someone to another dimension, you usually remember their face, y’know.”

“No, I was wondering what were you doing at the Gala,” I reply.

“Sherclop Pones invited me.”

I roll my eyes. “Okay, if you don’t want to–”

“No, really. He was investigating something about Bo–” Lyra pauses suddenly. “Hey, maybe we’ll just ask her what she’s doing here?”

“Okay.” I turn to the green mare, who looks at us with that certain expression of mild interest Vinyl usually has when she’s stoned and someone does something retarded in front of her. “G’day, luv. What such a sheila is doing in this big scary jungle, all alone?”

“Auntie, stop talking like some Oatstralian creep,” Ruby mutters. “Let’s just smack her and make her tell us everything she knows.”

The green mare smirks. “Like, we heard that some ponies are cutting this forest down and we arrived here as soon as we could...”

“We?” I ask. “There’s more of you?”

“All the righteous ponies, dude,” she replies. “Strawberry Fields, Sky Diamond, Moonchild, John Lemon... We’re gonna, like, put all those Babylonians in cages and help them, like, learn about peace and love, and other gnarly things...”

Gnarly? I last heard that word when I was, like, nineteen. I start to think if it was before some mysterious moron knocked Berry Punch up, but I’m interrupted by a familiar voice.

“Sorry, Minuette, but it turned out that I had to do the number two too,” Vinyl trots to us. “And banana leaves are really bad when it comes to– Tree Hugger!”

Tree Hugger? Really?

“Vinyl?” Tree Hugger opens her eyes a bit more. “What are you doing here, naughty filly?”

Oh... shit. Like, a whole load of it.

“You two... know each other?” Lyra asks.

“Righteous,” Tree Hugger replies. “Vinyl has, like, some really interesting aura... I’m, like, really digging her vibe.”

Aura, yeah. Mostly the aura of cheap cigarettes and, as of late, old frying oil that has never been changed.

“She means that we had sex,” Vinyl says, quite unnecessarily.

“How... When...” I rub my temples. I demand answers, dammit!

“Remember how a few years ago I went on a journey to look for myself?” Vinyl asks.

I sigh. “I don’t know if you remember, but guess who carried your sorry ass to the hospital after accidentally finding you in a ditch near Hoofington? When they cut your mane, they found that the civilisation living in it discovered the wheel. Not to mention that when they took a sample of your blood, it melted the syringe.”

Tree Hugger nods. “Hoofington. So that’s where we lost you...”

Ruby clears her throat. “A propos: maybe we should find the rest before they fall into a ditch or something.”

Suddenly, the air is torn by a mighty scream. “Daring Do’s never gonna let some dirty hippies to capture her!”

“Nevermind,” Ruby says.

“What were you doing for all this time?” Vinyl asks Tree Hugger. “My memories are kinda fuzzy.”

“Protecting natural environment,” Tree Hugger replies. “And finding our inner selves... Spiritual journeys were never as easy as they are now...”

“Yeah,” I mutter. “Listen, my dear friend, we’re kinda in a hurry. You’re apparently the hosts of this place, right? Give us fuel and we’re out. Then you can find yourself till hair grows on your hooves.”

The absent look on her face tells me that I didn’t quite manage to get the message across.

“Fuel,” I say. “Blue barrels, get it? To feed our big iron bird...”

“Oh, the aircraft?” Tree Hugger asks. “Groovy. Come with me.”

I look at Lyra, Vinyl, and Ruby unsurely. Vinyl smiles widely, Lyra looks at Tree Hugger and scratches her mane, while Ruby’s face immediately reminds me that she’s Berry’s daughter: it’s the same face I’ve seen in the days of my youth, every time some poor, unsuspecting wanker spilled her beer in a pub. What usually followed was a symphony of broken jaws, black eyes, and property damage.

Good thing Ruby is only eleven. But I already told Berry that she should start gathering some cash for her: either for anger management classes or bails. It’s not like we want kids to repeat their parents’ mistakes, huh?

Yeah, right.

We follow Tree Hugger to a smaller clearing with a watchtower built in the middle. Well, at least there’s no wicker mare there, but all along the watchtower there are wooden cages with some ponies – judging by their red flannel shirts, they’re lumberjacks. In the last of the cages there are Daring Do, Inkie, Hexie, and some lumberjack wearing a flannel skirt – seems that their meeting with hippies didn’t went as smoothly as ours. A couple of ponies sit around the campfire – one of them seems to have a bird’s nest on his head. He’s sitting next to two mares who probably don’t have any contact with reality. The others are also quite a colourful bunch.

One of them is that musician, John Lemon. His band kinda appeared out of nowhere. Like, one minute there was no band and five minutes later the band existed for ten years, made a few hits, and split up due to creative differences. My cutie mark is about making watches, not bending time, but even I smelled something fishy.

“Blessings,” Tree Hugger says to the group. She takes a quick look on the cages. “Who are our lovely guests?”

The guy with a bird’s nest on his head points at Inkie. “She broke Helter Skelter’s hoof and apologised. And this pegasus has, like, a really bad aura surrounding her...”

Daring Do replies with words which her publisher would rather edit out of the newest book.

“This is kind of a bummer.” Tree Hugger nods and walks to the cages. “Reveal to me why did you break Helter Skelter’s hoof?”

“Daring yelled something about us being attacked and I panicked...” Inkie mutters.

“I sense righteousness in you,” Tree Hugger says and her eyes focus on Hexie. “And who are you, silent stranger?”

“I repair stuff,” Hexie replies. “While we’re at it, whoever put such a durable padlock in a cage that can be smashed with a kick, is an idiot. Also, they used nails which have smaller heads than the holes in the hasp, so–”

“Hexie, shut up,” Daring Do whispers.

“Excuse me,” I say, walking to Tree Hugger. “As I said before, we’re in a bit of hurry and–”

“No worries,” Tree Hugger replies. “There’s, like, no problem.” She walks to Vinyl. “Radical to see you again, my sister. Do you know that I still have your novel?”

“You two are sisters?” Inkie asks, resting against the grating.

“Vinyl wrote a novel?” Daring Do raises her eyebrows.

“We’re not sisters,” Vinyl replies. “And yes, I wrote a novel. I thought someone used it as emergency supply of toilet paper, though...”

“Excuse me.” I step between Vinyl and Tree Hugger. “But the fuel...”

“Why are you, like, so agitated?” Tree Hugger asks, wrapping her hoof around me. “Like, this fuel has been used to cut down trees. We want to, like, spill it all...”

Okay, I get it. When in Griffonstone, do what griffons do. “You can’t spill it!” I exclaim. “Like, it will poison the whole jungle and you’ll get bad karma...” I’m not sure if that’s how her religion works, but I need to go on. “You’ll reincarnate as a lab rat if you do that.”

It takes Tree Hugger a while to process my words. “Okay,” she says. “We’re not spilling the fuel.”

“Okay, so will you give it to us, so we can get rid of it on your behalf?” I ask.

“No.”

“Why?” I ask.

“I can see bad aura around you and that machine,” Tree Hugger replies. “Like, it manifests itself in an erratic way, disrupting the harmony of the world.”

“Okay, I get it,” I mutter. “I guess you’re not freeing our friends either...”

“Now you gave her that idea.” Daring Do sits in the cage and sighs. “Can I at least see Vinyl’s novel? Out of morbid fascination, if nothing else.”

I look at her and when our eyes meet, I notice that she’s blinking at me. Okay, it seems that we have a plan. Too bad I have no idea what it is.

Vinyl, however, has no second thoughts. She trots to Tree Hugger and sits on her back, letting our new green friend carry her to one of the ragged tents standing nearby.

Ruby pats my back. “Don’t you think auntie Vinyl should get off her high horse?”

I resist the urge to facehoof. “Ruby, dear, why don’t you go to auntie Daring and ask her what the fuck is she planning?”

“Okay,” Ruby whispers and walks to the cages while I sit next to Lyra. After a while, Tree Hugger comes back with Vinyl, who is holding a book.

Well, “a book” is not a good word for that. It seems like it was made out of loose sheets of whatever paper was available in a hippie commune during a travel across Equestria. The cover is made of a piece of an old hay mat, and individual pages used to be Mayor Mare’s old posters, torn advertisements from Manehattan, a list of ticket prices of steamship company from Hoofington, old cigarette packages, napkins, and beer labels in their previous lives.

I’m not even done staring at it when Ruby trots back to us and whispers something into Lyra’s ear. Lyra turns to me and whispers, “We have to pretend to be interested in it and wait till they all get stoned and fall asleep. They’ll open the cages, free the lumberjacks, and take over the camp.”

“Okay,” I whisper back, smiling at Vinyl. “So, why don’t you share your talents with us?” I ask her.

Vinyl levitates the book and gives it to me. “Read it,” she says. “You have a good voice for such stories.”

Me? Since when? I’m not sure if I would be able to narrate a long story. I open the “book” and take a look at the first passage.

It was about 3 AM when drugs wore off and I found myself lying in the tent, Bush Embrace’s warm breath ruffling my mane. The air smelled of love, sweat, and smoke. I could still hear the echo of our ejaculations, not so distant in time; it could be an hour ago, but this moment could also be centuries away from us.

The air was still spiralling around me in colourful ~~passages~~ swirls so I stood up, leaving Bush Embrace snoring gently on her old, rugged mattress. I looked at her and at the mattress. So full of life.

I get out of the tent. Fresh air causes the world to spin around me, raindrops falling on ~~me~~ my head. I feel like having another cigarette, so I levitate it from behind my ear and light it with my magic and inhale the smoke, thinking about how the situation is and how long we will be ~~toghe~~ together and what will happen when they finally get us. I must’ve had not enough drugs in my system, because such things are like worms creeping in my brain whenever this happens and they keep digging small holes through my grey matter and I worry so much and feel like there’s no tomorrow, because what tomorrow can be there if there is no way there can be one?

I stood over the sad remains of the bonfire and lifted my tail. A hot stream flows out of me when I experience the pleasure of cigarette and emptying bladder, both at the same time. The wet bonfire hisses, steam rising from it, bathing me in a pungent smell of poison coming out of my body...

I raise my head and tilt it.

“This is, like, life-changing, isn’t it?” Tree Hugger asks.

“I’m not sure what is life-changing about the passage about taking a leak, but maybe I can’t comprehend true art,” I reply.

“Also, you switch tenses,” Daring Do says from her cage. “Stick to one, for Azathoth’s sake!”

Vinyl gives her a grin. “Well, it’s not me who’s in the cage now.” She sticks her tongue. “Read more, Minuette!”

I open the book in some random place. “It’s written in blank verse...” I mutter, flipping the pages. “And this looks like twenty pages written without a single punctuation mark.”

“I was high,” Vinyl mutters.

Tree Hugger hugs her. “There’s nothing to be ashamed about, sis. I read it quite often. Sometimes, I open it at random place to, like, find wisdom.”

“I need to try,” I mutter, flipping the pages. “How about this one? Everypony has a story to tell. Even if it’s a story of your bowel movements. That’s deep...”

“I can, like, see what we should do now,” Tree Hugger says. “Gather round the bonfire, everypony! We’ll tell stories.”

“Can we get out of the cage then?” Inkie asks.

“No.” Tree Hugger turns to me. “If you want, I can work on your energy fields... Can’t you, like, feel how impure your chakras are?”

“Well, I always thought it was a gastric ulcer caused by my crappy diet, but the doctor said that I don’t have one.”

“Speaking of doctors,” Ruby says, sitting next to the fire. “Can I tell a story about how Dinky sat on a potato?”

“No,” I reply. “I have quite a few stories to tell. Lyra, remember how Lemon Hearts got her head stuck in a beaker?”

“Oh yeah...” Lyra smirks. “It was when we were both in magic kindergarten...”

I never expected that I’d tell that story to a bunch of hippies, but, as The Book of Vinyl Scratch says, one has to adapt or end up in a plastic bag at the bottom of the Horseshoe Bay. After that one comes another school story, about how one of the dosimeters in the High Energy Magic Lab changed colour and my class had to spend a week there in case there was a leak. A few guys in hazmat suits brought us food and mattresses and we were sitting there, a bunch of sixteen year old troglodytes, hoping that nopony would sprout wings.

Of course, I had to explain to those uneducated stoners that magic, especially high-energy magic, is all about probability. You know, there’s some small probability that a fork would start to fly, but magic channeled by unicorn’s horn raises probability to the point it actually does.

Now, imagine a whole building full of magical stuff, with some of the devices leaking pure essence of raw thaumic force. A trip to the toilet could’ve ended in a conversation with your long-dead grandmother, flipping a coin was usually ending in fifty tails in a row... Hell, when I went to the library to grab some book, I found a monkey at the typewriter, writing complete works of William Flankspeare. Apparently the chance that a grown dragon would materialise out of thin air in the middle of the lab was at some point like one to ten. After that revelation, we all told Twilight Sparkle to shut up.

There was, however, one good thing in that: I could easily convince my friends that having ten royal flushes in a row was an effect of the unusual circumstances rather than my cheating.

Of course, as usual in my life, there were also bad things. For starters, Twinkleshine realised that having sex in such a place may result in really weird things, including your great-grandson appearing to kill you. Also, as my classmate learned, when you’re in a room with background magic level so high that anything you say comes true, ‘gag me with a spoon’ is not the best thing to say. Even many years later, when she gave that spoon to her daughter, it caused the poor kid to get a spoon cutie mark and a slight spoon obsession.

After that story, Tree Hugger is utterly convinced that my bad aura is caused by my repressed sexuality. That’d actually explain why Vinyl, despite her, to put it mildly, unhealthy lifestyle has karma of a newborn foal.

Anyway, after me, Lyra tells some absurd story about a group of secret agents fighting mutated seaponies. I’m pretty sure that she made it up. Then Ruby charms the hippies with an innocently vulgar story of Dinky Hooves and a box of crayons, and in the end Vinyl tells them about the exploding outhouse.

Finally, it gets dark and only some hippies still have contact with reality. I finish off the remaining ones with a long report of the financial state of my company – probably the only time this shit happened to be useful. I’m slightly buzzed myself – Tree Hugger’s idea to clean my chakras was to blow smoke from burning weed on me, along with muttering some mantras. I’m not sure if my aura got better, but I feel, like, groovy.

Suddenly, I hear the sound of the cage door being kicked out. Seems that Daring Do got tired of sitting inside and decided to free herself. I stand up and trot to them. Whoa... Walking got, like, a little bit difficult. What’s worse, it seems that I’m alone – Ruby fell asleep, Lyra is more stoned than me, and Vinyl disappeared somewhere.

Finally, I reach Daring, Inkie, Hexie, and the lumberjack with a skirt. “Okay, girls,” I whisper. “The hippies are, like, asleep. Let’s free the lumberjacks and give them their axes. Does anypony have something to eat?”

“What?” Inkie asks.

“Munchies. You won’t understand.” I look around. “I’d eat a dozen pinecones...”

“I’d eat a pizza,” Lyra mutters, standing next to me and propping herself against Hexie.

“Maybe later,” Daring Do says. “Let’s incapacitate those dirty stoners and get out of here.”

“Not so fast!” somepony exclaims. “Stand still and we’ll find a solution.”

Behind us, the hippies wake up. It takes me a while to process the sudden turn of the events and recognise the voice guiding them. Daring Do is faster, judging by the fact that she suddenly gives out a roar and pulls a long, richly-ornamented knife from somewhere. Like, gag me with a spoon if I know where she usually keeps it. When I look at her, she’s drooling like a rabid animal.

“Treason!” Daring Do yells, a vein pulsing on her forehead. “I’m gonna eviscerate her!”

Lyra puts a hoof on her back. “Chill out, professor, or you’ll get a stroke. Like, one has to know when to calm down...”

“I’ll calm down when I give that treacherous grimalkin her eternal reward!” Daring Do tries to charge forward, but Hexie trips her. Halfway to the group, Inkie gives her a gentle poke in the back of the head, which is enough for Daring to fall asleep as calmly as Ruby.

“May I talk now?” Vinyl asks, trotting to us. “I don’t know what plan you had, but I think I found a peaceful solution.”

“What solution?” I ask. I’m slowly sobering up and I just got the message that we basically knocked Daring Do unconscious for some unclear reason. “Does it involve smoking a joint of peace?”

“No, bisons never use their pipes to smoke weed,” Vinyl replies. “Tree Hugger will give us fuel and let us get out of here.”

“How about the lumberjacks?” the guy in the skirt asks. “Does anypony think about the lumberjacks?”

“Oh, they’re gonna be sacrificed to the spirit of the forest,” Vinyl replies. “We’re invited to a blood drinking ceremony.”

“What?” I raise my hoof. The only blood I can feast on is of the ones I defeated in an unfair fight. Because if the fight was fair, I’d, like, have to drink my own blood.

“I was joking. They’ll be set free and escorted to the nearest town,” Vinyl says. “But they won’t be allowed to cut down the jungle anymore.”

I’m starting to have a feeling that either I’m more stoned than I thought, or some weird shit is going on here. The best proof is that I didn’t uppercut Vinyl for her dumb jokes. “That’s... unusual,” I say. “You and diplomacy?”

“Oh please.” Vinyl rolls her eyes. “Diplomacy? I simply gave Tree Hugger a blowjob so great that she sucked the bedsheet into her ass. In fact, I think she owes me one. Goodnight, girls!” She trots to Tree Hugger’s tent.

“What are we gonna do now?” Inkie asks, her jaw almost on the ground.

“Sleep,” I reply. “By the way, you’re piloting tomorrow.” I levitate Ruby and put her on my back. “I’m gonna go to the plane. There’s, like, food there.”

“Food?” Ruby moves on my back. “I want food. I haven’t eaten, like, anything since those dirty hippies gave me brownies.”

“Brownies?” I ask, suddenly feeling that deep inside of me there’s a responsible pony. Or rather, despite years of denial, I’m totally like my mother. “What was in those brownies?”

“Dunno, but I can see, like, colours now,” Ruby replies. “They’re beautiful... And the world is, like, turning.” She chuckles. “I feel retarded. Like, now I know how Dinky must feel...”

“Dinky isn’t retarded,” I say. “And you’re going to sleep.”

We walk to the plane. The rest goes with us, Daring Do loudly complaining about her bones hurting after spending most of the day in a cage. Hardly heroic, if you ask me.

“You know what?” Hexie asks, helping me to climb to the plane. “This whole marihuana thing used to grow around my house, back in Ponyland. But when we learned what it was, it turned out that it was some weak samosiejka.”

“Yeah,” I mutter, completing the difficult task of getting on the plane and putting Ruby in her sleeping bag. “So, no buzz for you?”

“No.” Hexie sighs. “But let’s say that part of the reason why I moved out to the Griffon Empire was a long story of poppy straw compote, mushrooms, and a blues band whose stuff I was repairing.”

I lie on my bunk. “Remind me, why did I hire you without looking at your CV?”

“I saved your ass. Also, it’d be hard to get references from those guys. One of them sung that whisky was his wife... and he meant it.”

“Okay, I see.” I yawn. I tell Hexie goodnight more or less automatically. Or maybe I only dream about telling her that? Not sure. My mind switches to the image of Big Macintosh bucking apples. Ahh...

The next morning is shitty. And I’m not exaggerating it at all.

For starters, it turns out that both me and Lyra react badly to getting stoned. As we roll out of the plane, gasping for fresh air, the first thing we encounter is Vinyl staggering out of Tree Hugger’s tent, lifting her tail, and taking a leak on the campfire. A joke that she’s probably gathering materials to her new book barely appears in my poor brain when Lyra throws up for some unknown reason. Such view, of course, prompts my stomach to join her.

“Okay,” Vinyl mutters when we’re done. “So, if we already presented our bodily fluids to each other, I’d like you to come with me. Tree Hugger wants to talk.”

“Does it involve getting stoned again?” I ask. “Because I don’t want to.”

“Me neither,” Lyra mutters. “And professor Yearling says that her spine hurts.”

“Oh, we can do something about that,” Vinyl says. “Wake up the rest. We can’t leave without a proper goodbye.”

I get back on the plane. Out of our crew, only Inkie functions well. Hexie is half-asleep over a cup of coffee dark like Tirek’s soul. Daring Do complains about her bones. I’m not sure about Ruby, but judging by the fact that she mistook me for Dinky and told me to fuck my mom in the eye socket, the magic brownie didn’t agree with her much.

“I really need to fetch some soap,” I tell her. “Also, I’m not Dinky.”

“Oh, it’s you,” Ruby mutters. “I had a wonderful dream: I inflated my sleeping bag with my farts and flew on an adventure.”

“That’s a bit more than I wanted to know,” I say. “Frankly, I’d expect something like that from Vinyl.”

“Drugs ruin your life,” Ruby replies. “That’s what Ms. Cheerilee says.”

“Wise words.” I nod, thinking that I have to buy Cheerilee something nice when I get back. “But now we have to go.”

Cursing and limping, our groups rolls out of the plane and walks to the clearing where hippies have their camp. On our way, we meet the lumberjacks walking slowly through the forests. The one with the skirt greets us as we pass by them.

“May I ask you something?” Lyra asks. “Why are you wearing that skirt?”

The lumberjack looks at her and facehoofs. “Because I’m a mare?”

“You are?” Lyra stares at the lumberjack unsurely. “There are mares-lumberjacks?”

“Don’t be silly, Lyra,” Vinyl says, joining us. “There must be. How else would they reproduce?”

“You guys are barmy.” The lumberjack shrugs and walks away. The rest of the group follows her.

“Barmy?” Lyra asks. “At least we weren’t caught by hippies... Well, not all of us.”

“Oh, shut up,” Daring Do mutters.

When we get to the clearing, the hippies are already gathered there. It’s interesting that they managed to recover after yesterday’s party so quickly. I guess they just train more.

Tree Hugger walks to us. Judging by her expression and slight trembling of her hind legs, she must’ve had a great night. I barely stop myself from asking how she got rid of the bedsheet.

“Blessings,” she says. “It’s sad that you couldn’t stay for longer, but I understand that your quest to bring back the balance of the universe is far more important.”

Wait, what? What did Vinyl tell her?

“Yeah...” Daring Do grits her teeth. “I especially liked the putting in the cage part.”

“Sorry about that.” Tree Hugger puts her hoof on Daring’s back. Daring flinches, but suddenly, her muscles relax a bit.

“Hey, it doesn’t hurt!” Daring exclaims, stretching her wings. “How did you do that?”

“Energy gathers in certain points of the body and it’s like, a cosmic force that–”

“Okay, I get it.”

“Do you also cure headaches?” I ask. “Also, I’m pretty sure I emptied our fridge at night and my stomach didn’t handle it well.”

Tree Hugger gives me a small bracelet made of colourful stones. “This will protect you from the negative forces.”

“Does it count as a hangover cure?” I ask.

“No.”

“Damn.” I put the bracelet on my hoof. It looks a bit campy, but if it’s supposed to give me invulnerability or other stuff, I shouldn’t complain.

Meanwhile, Tree Hugger walks to Vinyl and pulls her into a hug. I look for Ruby in case they wanted to give us a show of public indecency. But no, Tree Hugger backs away and gives Vinyl some neatly-bound typescript. “I had it rewritten,” she says. “I’d rather keep the original, but I guess that you’d want it to guide you too...”

“Thanks.” Vinyl grabs the book and opens it on a random page. “The poppies were everywhere. Tempting. Asking me to join them. I wanted to rip my veins out of my hooves,” she reads. “Who knows what does it mean?”

“You realised that home-made heroin is the fastest way to put on the wooden overcoat?” Ruby asks. “That’s what my mom says.”

“Blessed be the children, for their words are honest and their hearts clean,” Tree Hugger says, walking to Ruby and patting her mane.

Well, I’m not sure how Tree Hugger, with her ability to detect auras, can’t see that Ruby is a source of negative energy manifesting as a desire to shoot ponies with a BB-gun. Especially since Ruby doesn’t usually like being patted, touched, levitated around, and generally treated like a kid.

Okay, maybe Tree Hugger sensed something after all, judging by how fast she moves to Lyra. “Something bothers you,” she says. “Some dark secret...”

“Currently, my poor stomach,” Lyra replies. “And I don’t have any dark secrets, thank you.”

“Then one of your friends has a dark secret,” Tree Hugger says. “It affects your aura too.”

“Cheap psychological trick,” Lyra mutters. “Also, I know my friends’ dark secrets.”

“Well, if you say so...” Tree Hugger smiles sheepishly and walks to Hexie. “You... A mechanic from a country far away from here...”

Hexie chuckles. “Eeyup. What future awaits me?”

Tree Hugger shakes her head. “I can’t tell the future. But knowing Vinyl, it’ll surely be, like, crazy...”

“Well, it was in my job description,” Hexie mutters. “Even when I stay behind, sooner or later I have to give wpierdol to a bunch of ninjas...”

“Ninjas?” Tree Hugger raises her eyebrows. “I’m not high enough to, like, find a common wave with that.”

“Not only you,” Hexie replies. “Okay, can we get to the part when you give us the fuel and we fly away? Honestly, I hate the jungle.”

For the first time I see Tree Hugger’s eyes opening completely – they’re usually half-closed. “Do you have something against trees?”

“No, I love trees,” Hexie replies quickly. “But the smell, rain, and temperature make me want to drink till I pass out. And I can’t do that because it’s too hot.”

“Whatever floats your boat, then,” Tree Hugger says. “Okay, friends. Bring the barrels to the plane!”

Refueling takes a while – not surprising since half of our ground crew is stoned, the other hungover, and they all do that for the first time in their lives. Luckily, Hexie is good at managing them – she just yells a long string of curses, along with some hints how to do the task well. Halfway through I fall asleep, too tired of this shit.

I’m awaken by a turbulence. I get up, slamming my head against the ceiling, and look around, but there’s nothing unusual in there.

“Whoops,” I hear Inkie from the cockpit. “I think we have some branches stuck in the back.”

“Told you to wake Minuette up,” Hexie mutters back. “She’d either miss the trees completely or crash into them. Either way, I wouldn’t have to clean this.”

“Oh, please.” Inkie’s voice disappears in the roar of the engine as we’re getting higher. I turn to the wall and fall asleep again.

When I wake up, I feel that my headache is gone. Good news, finally. I roll out of my bunk and trot to the cockpit, where Inkie and Hexie are listening to the radio.

“What’s up?” I ask. “Why are you circling?”

“Maneaus International Airport,” Inkie replies. “We’re not an airship, so they’re not sure what to do with us.”

“Tell them to think of something, or else we’ll run out of fuel, fall on their heads and explode,” I reply. “Or wait, I’ll tell them myself.”

“How can we explode if we run out of fuel?” Hexie asks.

“Nevermind,” I reply, grabbing the radio. “Is there anypony in there?”

“It’s Maneaus International Air–”

“Yeah, I know,” I reply. “We need about two hundred metres of even terrain to land. I see that you have airstrips here, just tell us where can we land without hitting anything important.”

My interlocutor consults with somepony. After a while, he replies, “The airstrip number seven is free. Do whatever you usually do. After landing, everypony on the deck have to go to the customs office for inspection and passport control.”

“Do whatever you usually do?” I ask. “They have no procedures for us, or what?”

“Apparently not.” Inkie slows down, lowering the flight and aiming at the airstrip number seven. I sit in my seat, but I’m only watching her – we have a lot of space, so it shouldn’t be hard to land.

A few minutes later, our wheels touch the ground gently. We’re taxiing to the hangar, where Inkie turns off the engine.

We’re finally in Maneaus! There used to be nothing but jungle here, until someone realised how many rubber trees were there. Soon, it became a small settlement, but as the demand for rubber increased, the ponies here got richer and, as it usually happens, more blasé. Thus, they built a port in the middle of the continent – the river is deep enough for even big ships. It brought them more money, so they built the most beautiful opera house in the country. Musicians from around the world would kill to get here and sing for a large sum of rubber money.

For our plane, it’s kinda a sentimental journey – after all, we commissioned the tyres here.

“Hey, is it true that we’re in the world’s capital of condoms?” Vinyl asks. “Which reminds me that my last seven partners were girls. Time for a change.”

“Vinyl, please...” I grab the documents from the compartment and get out of the plane to meet a couple of ponies in suits, waiting for us.

“Clipe de Papel,” one of them says. “Customs Officer of Maneaus International Airport. Five passengers and cargo, right?”

“Right,” I reply, giving him the papers. One of de Papel’s assistants looks at us and whispers something to his boss.

“Why there’s six of you?” Clipe de Papel asks. “There should be only five...”

“Wha– oh, damn,” I mutter, looking at Ruby. “You don’t happen to have a passport, do you?” I ask her.

Ruby sighs. “Don’t worry,” she replies. “Do you think I’m stupid?” She produces a small card from her saddlebags and gives it to me.

“‘Berryshine Ruby Pinch, born 14th January 994 after Discord... The holder of this ID is entitled to a 50% discount on every train in–’” I read. “Are you kidding? That’s your school ID, moron!”

“Whoops...” Ruby smiles sheepishly.

“Wait,” Vinyl says. “Your first name isn’t Ruby?”

“My mother is more vain that you think,” Ruby mutters. “But call me ‘Berry’ and you’d better sleep with one eye open...”

“I’m wondering more about the fact that you were born exactly eleven months after Hearts and Hooves Day.” Lyra chuckles.

“Excuse me,” Clipe de Papel says, completely unaware of the fact that Ruby is about to bite through Lyra’s carotid artery. “But what is that filly doing here?”

“She hid on the deck,” I reply. “And we couldn’t fly her back home.”

“Is she vaccinated against malaria?”

“She is,” I reply. “Also, I’m kinda her legal guardian and if that’s not enough, we can contact her mother.”

I really am. That is, if Berry ever kicks the bucket, I’ll be one. For that reason, I pray every day for Berry’s good health.

“We’ll check everything,” Clipe de Papel replies. “In the meantime, you’ll wait in our room for suspected terro– I mean, ponies waiting for being let into the country.”

“Just great,” Daring Do mutters. “Another few hours lost.”

“Oh, shut up...” I whisper.

We’re led to the small room. There are already three ponies there: a bored mare, a large stallion with an eyepatch, and a donkey whom I wouldn’t want to meet in a dark street.

“Hello,” the guy with an eyepatch says. “Why did they put you here?”

“Papers,” I reply. “How about you?”

“Those idiots are checking our weapons,” he says. “As if a paper stating that we’re certified dragon slayers wasn’t enough.”

“You’re certified dragon slayers?” I ask. I was never a certified dragon slayer, but I was once pretending to be one.

“Eeyup.” He points at the mare, who’s now talking with Vinyl. “She’s our certified virgin. She gets lots of bits to protect her virginity and serve as a bait for dragons.”

Okay, that’s not a job for me. “How about you?”

“Well, I can shoot a dragon in the eye from a mile,” he replies. “And Fuse is our explosives specialist. We came here on vacation before going to Johaynesburg.”

I nod. “Not bad. I’m just a humble delivery pony.”

“You delivered something you shouldn’t?” he asks.

“Well, my friend’s daughter delivered herself with us.” I look around and see that Daring Do goes somewhere. I hope she doesn’t want to bribe that guy. That’d be not cricket, not to mention that last thing I want is getting into a local prison. Unlike Vinyl, I’m not into extreme experiences. Just being close with some guy and occasional play with duct tape, whips, and leather is enough to get me off.

Ten minutes later, Clipe de Papel comes to us. “You’re free to go,” he says. “We got that filly’s documents.”

Daring Do, you bloody shit-stirrer! What have you done?

“Did you bribe him?” I ask as soon as we leave the airport and walk through the crowded streets of Maneaus. The air is hot and we can barely breathe; it is still a few hours till the evening rain.

“Of course not,” Daring Do replies. “Turns out, he really likes my books.”

“So?” I ask.

“I promised that he’ll be in the next one if Ruby gets a temporary passport.” Daring Do shrugs.

“That’s still bribery,” I mutter.

“Oh, come on,” Vinyl walks to us. She left the airport last, smirking for some reason. “Like, we’d be deported, or arrested, or thrown into the sea...”

“We’re in the middle of a jungle,” I say. “There’s no sea here, just the river.”

“You get my point,” Vinyl says. “Anyway, what are we gonna do? When are we going to look for adventure?”

“What?” Daring Do asks. “You brought me and Lyra here. Your job is done.”

“We’re not going with you?” Vinyl’s jaw drops. “B-but...”

“Lyra and I are professionals,” Daring Do replies. “You guys do a lot of mess. That’s not archeology when you keep blowing stuff up, or beating ninjas, or–”

“Well, I had an impression that those ninjas were after you,” I mutter. “Besides, how do you want to deal with ninjas professionally?”

“By being sober in the first place.” Daring Do takes off. “I’ll come to you later.”

Lyra shrugs. “I’m sorry. Since it all started, she’s kinda stressed.” She runs behind Daring Do.

“Well, when I’m stressed I’m not a cunt!” I yell behind her. A few of the locals – probably those who know Equine – look at me.

“You kinda are,” Vinyl replies. “Remember that whole thing with della Morte? You were mostly yelling at me, or beating me, or–”

“Hey, I wasn’t that bad!”

“You were, a bit.” Inkie blushes. “And you were swearing a lot.”

Ruby chuckles. “Oh yeah. When auntie’s pissed, fuckers got nothing on it...”

“Shut up, kid,” I say. “What are we gonna do?”

“Same thing as usual?” Hexie asks. “Getting drunk and doing stupid things?”

Oh, no. Last time I got totally drunk was after our first big delivery. I’m not sure what I was doing with Berry Punch and Cherry Berry, but we apparently visited a hairstylist, because later we all woke up with, quite appropriately, airstrips. And I don’t mean on our heads...

This train of thoughts leads me to wondering whether Tree Hugger also has dreadlocks there. Vinyl probably knows.

“Minuette...” Vinyl mutters.

“No, I wasn’t thinking of Tree Hugger’s pubes,” I reply absent-mindedly.

“She has dreadlocks there, but that’s not the point,” Vinyl says. “Can you see that building on the other side of the street? This big, awful thing?”

“What?” I turn to see the building and suddenly it hits me. “Oh, fudge...”

The building is indeed big, and looks like a pony who designed it had a sense of style of an average noveau riche from Hooviet Union. This is, however, not the most important. The most important thing is a large neon above the door.

“Oh fudge, indeed...” Vinyl mutters, pointing at the sign, adorned with a picture of the owner of this place, and a flashy inscription which, in a few languages, tells us:

Trixie’s Funhouse.
Casino.
Cabaret.
Hotel.
Cafe,
Restaurant.
Open 24/7