Arc 3- 2 (The Way They Change)

The Deceivers are the biggest threat to any nation, and it is up to the citizens to stay true and fast to their convictions, their values, and all that has made their nation-state possible. While the threat of having a Deceiver will always be a threat that cannot be truly beat, there must be many safeguards to prevent their work from being easy.

One is to remain true to knowledge. Deceivers will do everything in their power to rewrite history and the laws of economics to make their claims easier to swallow. Deceivers thrive on the pride of those who believe to have education on their side, so they will corrupt the educational institutes to make their impossible plan seem as though it can be accomplished. Those without education have always been looked down, and look up to those who have an institute to back them. If the Deceiver can fool those who claim to be intellectual, then they will unknowingly act as the sentries for her. They will claim that through the knowledge they have obtained they will be able to build a utopia where nopony ever has to live in fear or hunger. And just as the intellectuals are sheep to the educational institutes, the uneducated are sheep to the intellectuals.

The second is to keep the messengers from taking sides. Should a messenger take any sides of any conflict, their motivations will not be for the benefit of the populace, but for the benefit of their bags. A leader needs her messengers, and if the messengers are on her side, they will never question her, never doubt her, and forever worship her as the one who could do no wrong. Should they never question her, there will be no reason to doubt and every reason to blindly worship. If there is blind worship there is no integrity for the messenger, and they will surely become as reliable as a crippled foal. Especially if the Deceiver is holding the highest echelons of power. Control of the messengers is control of the nation, and it is best in the hooves of the commoner.

Third is to impose terms on royalty. Everypony has a chance of becoming a Deceiver, and the longer somepony remains in power, the more likely the Deceiver is able to damage the nation-state. Keeping the royalty from establishing a stronghold in the seats of government will make it difficult for the Deceiver to corrupt and the messengers from blindly worshipping, and it will keep the commoners in control, as it should be. Should the royalty have unlimited years in their seats, they can manipulate the commoners into thinking that what is worst for them is best with the help of the messengers, such is the Deceiver’s special talent.

-The Lunar Republic, Chapter XXII: The Deceiver and the Messengers

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Laughter Lives!

Pinkamena Diane Pie Survives Harrowing Experience!

__________________

By: Quill Pen

__________________

CANTERLOT--- They say that during the darkest of times, one can always turn to Laughter to find the light. Laughter, like every Element of Harmony, cannot die, but their wielders can. Thankfully Laughter’s wielder never died.

After the escalation of violence in Equestria we finally see a flicker of hope as Pinkamena Diane “Pinkie” Pie was brought to the Canterlot Royal Hospital after Airmare Rainbow Dash brought her to the hospital following the terrible incident at the abandoned Flim Flam warehouse.

An anonymous source has said that Pinkie Pie was in a coma when he last saw her. I was also told by the said source that Captain Shining Armor had ordered her survival to be kept a secret.

Why you may ask? Some have speculated he had orchestrated the infamous Warehouse Massacre as part of his war against the Equestrian Investigation Bureau, and was hoping that Pinkamena Diane Pie and Rainbow Dash would perish in the suicide mission. Naturally such a thought is beyond ridiculous, given Captain Shining Armor’s fantastic record in keeping Equestria safe.

Continued on Next Page.

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Shining Armor throws the newspaper across his office, the noise of scribbling pens coming to a halt when the roll hits his door window and leaves an enormous crack in it. He stares at his door, fuming, and wanting nothing more than to blow up something. Or somepony. He simmers in his anger for a couple of more minutes before there is a nervous, quiet rapping on his door.

“Its open,” growls Shining Armor.

The door creaks open and Case Study walks in and closes the door as gently as she can before approaching her superior.

“What do you have,” demands Shining Armor, his tone low and menacing.

“Um... I have this, sir,” replies Case Study quietly as she hands Shining Armor a sealed folder.

Shining Armor takes the folder and rips it open without a second’s thought and instead of finding one profile page he finds three. He furrows his brow and keeps his eyes on the pages while addressing Case Study.

“What am I looking at.”

“Adagio D. Minor was the name of a college band made up of three ponies. One was the vocalist, the other was a guitarist, and the third played the keyboard. The guitarist passed away in the Ponyville General Hospital after being diagnosed with cancer about ten years ago, the vocalist works communications, and the keyboardist is... well, her.”

Case Study points at the picture of the keyboard player and it takes Shining Armor a moment to realize who it was. After it dawned on him, he slams the buzzer on his desk, making Case Study jump back.

“Security office,” says the mare on the other end almost instantly.

“Bring Private Aural Wave to whatever interrogation room is open immediately!” orders Shining Armor. Then to Case Study: “As for you, bring in Vinyl Scratch now!”

Case Study nods her head quicker than a jackhammer and bolts out of the room. Shining Armor gathers up the contents of the folder, the yearbook and his copy of the New Yoke times as well as other files from his safe. Before leaving his office he casts a shield around it, and for good measure he puts up another one. He then marches out of the work area, ignoring the questionable gazes, and heads straight towards the interrogation room holding Quill Pen. Upon reaching the room observing where the journalist in question is being held, he sees L. Roy in his casual uniform, having a staring at Quill Pen, his presence being hidden by the one way window. He also notices that Major Fuller is there, overseeing some ponies in lab jumpsuits installing a weird, blocky object into the wall.

“Fuller, what are you doing here?” demands Shining Armor.

“Installing the new intercoms, sir,” he replies coolly as he adjusts some wires.

“Okay, but what are you doing here?”

“Overseeing.”

“Well you can oversee later. Take you and your ponies out of here, this section is off limits. Besides, don’t you have a ceremony to go to?”

“That won’t be for another three weeks, Captain.”

Major Fuller orders his technicians to stop their work and they file out with their tools. When all the technicians are out, Shining Armor puts a shield around the area they were working on and slams the door shut after Major Fuller leaves, then he turns to L. Roy.

“How long was he been here?” he asks.

“A few hours,” replies L. Roy.

“How long have you been here?” asks Shining Armor while taking a spot next to L. Roy to stare at the imprisoned journalist.

“All night,” answers L. Roy, his gaze noticeably hardening.

“Where’s your partner?”

“Targe Shield is sleeping since our shift doesn’t start for another eight hours,.”

“‘Targe Shield’? What happened to Colt?”

“He got discharged because his cutie mark said he was better at botany than guarding. Now I’m stuck with a tool who is about as interesting as a wet carrot.”

“Has she done anything?” asks Shining Armor in regards to Quill Pen since he really doesn’t know what to say about L. Roy or Colt’s situation.

L. Roy shakes his head, glaring at Quill Pen.

“Okay, I got it from here, you go home and get some rest before you have to report back,” says Shining Armor.

L. Roy nods and leaves without another word, but he does keep his glare on Quill Pen until he could no longer do so comfortably. After a couple of minutes pass, Shining Armor goes into the interrogation room and puts up a shield around it. Quill Pen stares at the shield nervously as its rosey color disappears from the naked eye. Shining Armor takes a seat across from her, pulls out his folders from his saddlebag and sets them in front of Quill Pen.

“This is illegal, you know,” says Quill Pen, trying to act snobbish. “The Solar Doctrine says-”

“‘Ponies and their property, including self, estates, documents, and related effects, are only to be obtained by the State by decree of Warrants. Any and all Warrants are to be issued only upon probable cause, backed by strong evidence, which must be supported by affirmation of a Judge, and any and all Warrants must have specific descriptions of what is to be seized’.”

Quill Pen stares at Shining Armor, amazed at the fact that he said it so fluidly with a stone cold glare.

“Do you know what Article that was?” asks Shining Armor, his voice cold and unforgiving. When Quill Pen shakes her head he says: “Article Four. But with the martial law in place the Solar Doctrine has no power, which is what you wanted, correct?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” says Quill Pen, sticking her nose in the air. “Wait until I get my lawyer. She’ll have a field day with this.”

“Maybe you didn’t hear me. The Solar Doctrine has been suspended. I could keep you here for as long as I want to with no legal representation. I could have you taken away to any prison I want with a simple clop, but I won’t do that. Not yet, anyway.”

“Why? Because you’re so nice?”

“No, because I want answers, and I will get them one way or the other.”

Quill Pen forces herself to smile. “Is that so, Captain?”

Shining Armor narrows his eyes as he levitates copies of Quill Pen’s articles out of their folders for her to see.

“Just about every article you have done recently have shown support for the martial law and have tried to humiliate me and the Royal Guard while praising the EIB.”

“So? A mare is entitled to her own opinion.”

“So you wouldn’t mind if I keep you here for a year or two for writing misleading articles, then?”

“What! You-you can’t do that!”

Shining Armor shows her the most recent article she did, and she makes an audible gulp as she shrinks in her seat.

“I can, and I will, unless you start talking.”

“What do you want to know?” asks Quill Pen, trembling and sweating.

“Who told you about Pinkie Pie and where you got the idea of me sending her and Dash on a suicide mission to kill EIB agents.”

“Bu-but I said that the idea of you ordering that was a stupid thought.”

Shining Armor uses his magic to grab Quill Pen’s head and slam it on the table so that she is looking at her most recent work. Then he rounds the table, still keeping her pinned, and kneels next to her so that he’s right by her ear. He can hear her whimpers and feel her trembling under his wrath.

“Don’t play with me, Pen,” sneers Shining Armor in a threatening whisper, “I am not in the mood. Now who. Told. You. About Pinkie Pie.”

“I can’t say, it was anony-”

Shining Armor lifts Quill Pen’s head up for just a moment to slam her back down on the table with a defined BANG that left Quill Pen sobbing in pain as her ear bends at an unnatural angle. She squirms under Shining Armor and he keeps her still when he presses his hoof against her head, not caring for the small trickle of blood escaping from under her head where her ear is.

“It was Fuller wasn’t it!” accuses Shining Armor. “Fuller told you about Pinkie Pie and Brisk Wind told you to write that article!”

“I-I-Please don’t hurt me!” sobs Quill Pen.

Shining Armor throws Quill Pen to the ground, and she backs up to a corner, shaking violently as he towers above her, shoving one of the photos of her college years to her face.

“You, Lock, Brisk Wind and Fuller have been friends since college! And Brisk Wind has been trying really hard to destroy Equestria while you have been her little puppet trying to ruin me and the Guard! What’s Fuller’s angel on this!”

“It wasn’t supposed to happen like this! It-it-We have nothing against you! I have nothing against you!”

“LIAR!” screams Shining Armor, his eyes shifting to a pure, rosey color with the same color glow around him. “YOU WANT TO DESTROY EQUESTRIA!”

“No!”

“AND I AM THE ONLY ONE IN YOUR WAY!”

“We-we want to save it from itself!”

“YOU MAY HAVE FOOLED CELESTIA, BUT YOU HAVE NOT FOOLED ME!” Shining Armor wraps his magic around Quill Pen’s throat and hoists her up the wall, ignoring her desperate gasps and kicks. “TELL ME EVERYTHING OR SO HELP ME CELESTIA I WILL SNAP YOUR NECK!”

A burst of energy signaled by a blinding light suddenly hits Shining Armor in the side, sending him crashing into the wall and landing with all the air knocked out of his lungs. After regaining his air through a series of painful coughs and gasps, and blinking the globs of colors out of his eyes, his ears folded back and he shrunk down.

“Your Majesty,” says Shining Armor in a quiet voice, his magic dissipating.

“Captain Armor, I would have expected better,” growls Celestia as she finishes forming herself into a solid figure between Shining Armor and Quill Pen. Then to Quill Pen in a much softer tone: “You can go home, and you will be compensated.”

Quill Pen doesn’t need to be told twice; the terrified mare bolts out of the room and when the door shuts Celestia puts another shield, this one golden colored and thick so no one can see inside or out. She then takes a deep breath and looks at Shining Armor, disappointed by what she just saw.

“Are you going to need another break?” asks Celestia sternly.

“No, Your Majesty,” answers Shining Armor, fighting a losing battle to keep his eyes on the Princess. He is now back to his normal self, too.

“You were losing control and threatened to snap her neck! Do you realize what would have happened if your anger got the best of you?”

“But, Your Majesty, I have reason to believe that Brisk Wind’s network goes farther than the EIB. I was trying to get answers from one of her associates.”

“I told you to drop the case, and besides on what grounds have you detained Quill Pen?”

Shining Armor shows her the photos, and although Celestia holds her poker face, he’s certain he has peaked her interest in the matter.

“Is this yearbook why you had Vinyl Scratch and Private Aural Wave detained?” asks Celestia as she flips through the pages.

“Yes, Your Majesty. Brisk Wind, Lock N. Key, Major Glimmer Fuller, and Quill Pen all knew each other and went to the same college and graduated in the same class, all having some degree in Political Science. Those two know something about this, too, and I need to know what they know.”

“And you think that a highlighted yearbook and college friends having similar degrees is cause for your paranoia?”

Shining Armor feels his hope and patience for Celestia taking a nosedive off a cliff, and his agitation becomes evident by his twitching eye.

“It is not paranoia! Quill Pen herself admitted to wanting to ‘save Equestria from itself’ and she has done nothing but discredit me and the Royal Guard while Brisk Wind has convinced you to destroy the foundation of this nation for the sake of security!”

Shining Armor takes a moment to catch his breath while Celestia stares at him, closing and returning the yearbook to him.

“Equestria is falling apart, Captain, in case you haven’t realized,” says Celestia, now towering above him. “I know you don’t like what is happening, and neither do I, but Brisk Wind was right. Because I did not notice the signs, I lost Blueblood and Ponyville suffered. If Equestria is to survive, if we wish to find and remove those that wish to destroy us, then we have to remove such shortcomings as the Solar Doctrine for the time being.”

Shining Armor’s jaw drops. “Your Majesty, listen yourself! You wrote the Solar Doctrine as a means of-”

“Yes, I realized that I wrote it, but I cannot protect my people if I am restricted in my powers to guide and defend them.”

Shining Armor takes a deep breath, then exhales slowly, doing his best to contain his anger. However, despite his best efforts, his gaze still hardens and he forces himself to look away just so he wouldn’t look at Celestia with those eyes. Celestia, seeing how upset Shining Armor is, also looks away.

“I know it is hard for you to hear, but when this is all over then-”

“You’ll do what? Restore the Solar Doctrine? Dismantle the EIB and CDA and release everypony that conveniently disappeared after expressing their disdain?” Shining Armor shakes his head disbelievingly. “If you are so obsessed with protecting us from threats you should’ve just let me continued my interrogation instead of interfering.”

“Captain, I interfered because no matter what you may think, I still don’t want to see anypony hurt, but in this day and age I am constantly failing. You must understand that I am doing these things to protect Equestria and those I care about from harm.” When Shining Armor doesn’t reply, Celestia sighs heavily and looks at the ground. “You should thank Major Fuller for alerting me of this interrogation, if I hadn’t shown up you would have done something that would have ruined you and Cadence.”

“I will thank him. Personally,” grumbles Shining Armor. “I’m assuming Wave and Scratch have been released.”

“By my orders, yes.”

Shining Armor nods, silently gathers his things, then slams the door on his way out. He could just picture his goddess cringing when he did so, however, he also knows her well enough to know that she’s probably just staring at it. He marches down the hallway with the fires of Hell in his eyes and his stomps echoing over the other hoofsteps. Everyone in his way is smart enough to move aside and not talk to him. All but a certain high ranking military official that is.

“Captain Armor, sir,” says Major Fuller casually while approaching him from seemingly out of the blue, “I hope you aren’t too upset about me bringing Princess Celestia in. I was just worried about our prisoner’s safety. You haven’t been yourself in the past few months, and I fear you are getting worse.”

“Thank you for that, Major,” responds Shining Armor, his tone the polar opposite of grateful. “By the way, while we are here, is there anything you want to tell me?”

“About my friendship with Quill Pen, Brisk Wind and Lock, you mean?” Shining Armor stares at him suspiciously, but the Major is showing no discernible expressions. “We had our fun in college, and we shared political science classes, but my dreams differed from theirs, as do all dreams.”

The two walk by an elevator and Major Fuller pushes the “Up” button. The device makes a small ding and they wait patiently for the elevator to come to their floor.

“What if I wanted to ask you something else?” says Shining Armor coldly.

“Forgive me, Captain Armor, but I had assumed that you had wanted. I realized you figured out my connection with Director Wind when you brought in Quill Pen. You want answers, and an investigation requires all avenues to be explored, including past relationships.” The elevator door opens and Shining Armor steps inside, but Major Fuller remains outside. “It is sad, though, that it had come to this for our nation. It is as though such things as trust and Loyalty are but things of the past.”

Shining Armor glares at Major Fuller as he takes a step back, holding his stoic expression.

“If you have any questions about my affiliation with Brisk Wind and Quill Pen, or anything of the like, I will be more than happy to answer them. We are in this war together, after all.”

Shining Armor’s glare is fixated on Major Fuller until the door blocks him from view with a loud clang. When that is said and done, a whirring noise overtakes everything and the elevator begins its ascension. Shining Armor then snorts out hot air and turns his focus to the dial as it gradually moves up the numbers. As the numbers go up, his patience dissolves at a more rapid pace and he finds himself muttering and pawing at the ground. He can also feel his energy surging and he slumps to the ground, clutching his head. When the elevator door opens Shining Armor looks up to see six Royal Guards standing in front of him, and he quickly gets himself under control. There was a flicker of surprise from them, being that they were not expecting to see their superior in an elevator looking as though he wants to kill someone, but they are quick to regain their stoic composure.

“Sir, Pinkamena Pie has escaped from the hospital.”

“And the Royal Bank has been robbed.”

=**********=

In the late afternoon sun, a small army of Royal Guards gallop towards the Royal Bank, which is blaring an annoying, ear breaking ringing noise. The guards bring in armored vehicles to secure the area and crime scene investigators to do what they do best. During the setup, a young Royal Guard approaches an older one who is barking out orders.

“Sir, Captain Armor has been alerted and the CSIs are already getting sample and statements,” reports the young guard.

“Good, now we just have to find a garbage collector,” says the older guard.

“A garbage collector?”

“Yeah, the manager,” the older guard nods to a unicorn mare, who is trembling and mumbling, “said that a garbage collector broke into the vault and whoever was driving it knocked out all the guards and stole an indefinite amount of bits before leaving. I’m thinking we’re going to need to-”

“LOOK OUT!” shouts one of the guards.

Both guards turn and barely dive out of the way in time as a massive, damaged mini-train with a dumpster on its back barrels its way through the blockade of vehicles. The vehicle’s are bent and twisted beyond repair as they roll, twirl, or bounce aside, launching pieces of them in the air. The guards order the vehicle to stop and when it continues plowing through everything, they shoot at the tires with their battle saddles and magic. However, even after popping the tires the vehicle still continues and actually speeds up, although wavering and tearing up the asphalt with its massive ruined rims. Then it hits a bump that signals the beginning of the sidewalk. The vehicle rips apart the edge of the sidewalk, but it is also tilted up and after smashing a motorized wagon into oblivion it falls to its side and slides across the ground, coming to a stop when it breaks through the entrance of a Donut Joe’s Donut Shop with a trail of spilled bags of money in its wake.

The pegasi guards fly ahead and surround the tipped vehicle while the others gallop after them. The pegasi order the driver to vacate the vehicle, but they get no response except for the engine sputtering and releasing hot water and steam. They cautiously approach the cabin and poke their heads in to find... nothing. Absolutely nothing except for a rigged ignition key and a speed lever broken to stay at maximum speed.

The guards stare inside, flabbergasted, then they glance at each other, still holding their expressions. One of the guards then pulls his head out and turns on his radio pack.

“Uh... sir, the vehicle is empty.”

oooOOOooo

Driving down the road, calm as can be, is a motorized wagon painted yellow with black bars and “TAXI” written in bold white letters. There is also are also signs saying “On Break” with a smiley face next to it on the passenger windows. Driving the taxi is an earth pony mare, sickly pale with a flat mane that has its ends frizzles, and her eyes are also droopy. The driver is also wearing a thick hat and a drabby coat that covers most of her body, including her three balloon cutie mark.

Pinkie Pie stops at a redlight and cringes when she sees the trash collector tip to its side and crash into Donut Joe’s shop.

“Sorry, Joe,” apologizes Pinkie Pie quietly. Then the door opens and Filthy Rich climbs in with yet another pegasus mare, both of them tipsy. Pinkie Pie arches an eyebrow and cranes her neck to look over her shoulder, which is still sore from her injuries. “Hey, buddy, cab’s closed.”

“I’ll pay you double the fare to get me to this address,” says Filthy Rich, playfully struggling to keep the mare he’s with from butterfly kissing his whole neck. He also hands Pinkie Pie a slip of paper with an address on it a second later.

While taking the slip with her mouth, Pinkie Pie’s ears fold back and her eyes go half lidded as she gets a sickly feeling from watching the drunk lovebirds. Then she spits the slip onto the front passenger seat without taking her eyes off of the unwanted passengers.

“I got a better idea. How about you actually find a cab that is on shift.”

“It’s only a few blocks down.”

“Then you can walk.” Pinkie Pie pokes her head out the window and sees Royal Guards moving through the crowded street, searching all the large vehicles. However, despite their limited search, she still gets an uneasy feeling. “You can speed walk very fast.”

“But-”

The guards get near her stolen taxi and she pulls her head back inside, now nervously drumming her hooves against the dashboard. She also starts to get more panicky when she sees one of the Royal Guards turn to her, his suspicion plain as day, through the mirror.

“Actually, on second thought, I’ll take you,” blurts Pinkie Pie.

“Really? Nice, I’ll be sure to write a good recommendation Ms. um...”

“The name is ‘Jam’. ‘Hoof Jam’.” Filthy Rich’s eyes bulge and the mare he’s with face contorts to that of disgust. Pinkie Pie takes a quick look at the slip and realizes that the address is for the apartment her and Trixie stayed at. “Hold on tight, I’m-”

The guard Pinkie Pie spotted earlier taps on her window with his hoof. She freezes, and stares at the guard out of the corner of her eye. A second set of knocks prompts her to roll down the window and try to put on an innocent smile, but with her condition it is like watching a zombie trying to smile. He orders her to the side of the road and after some difficulty of weaving through the molasses like traffic conditions, she makes to the shoulder of the road and the guard approaches her window again.

“License and registration,” orders the guard.

“What for?” asks Pinkie Pie innocently.

“Because I said so. License and registration. Now.”

Pinkie Pie’s mind races as she tries to figure out a way out of this mess, and the guard calling for backup is not making things any easier for her. Then the guard orders her passengers out and starts asking them a series of questions as more guards surround the vehicle. Pinkie Pie smiles nervously at the guards as she tries to scan the area. Then she sees it; an empty alley. She clears her throat to get the guards’ attention and when they look at her she gives them an innocent smile.

“We don’t have to do this right here, its crowded and not safe for anypony. Amiright?” says Pinkie Pie uneasily. The guards murmur some agreement and she points at the alley. “I think we should go into the alley over there. Its secluded, away from the traffic, and lets face it, nopony wants to make a scene. Especially if there is any frisking involved.”

With the “frisking” statement she raises her eyebrows suggestively and the guards cast nervous glances at each other.

“Uh, miss, I don’t know what you’re thinking, but we don’t do frisking like that,” says one of the guards.

Pinkie Pie gasps. “What! You pervert! How dare you suggest that I would suggest something as suggestive as frisky frisking!?”

“What! I didn’t- Nevermind! Just get into the alley!”

“Wait until I file that complaint,” grumbles Pinkie Pie as she pulls her stolen taxi into the alley, getting a small, devilish smile when she hears the guards saying something about her victim “getting it now”.

She pulls into the alley, shuts off the vehicle and hops out, carefully studying each of the five guards. One of the guards demands to see her license and registration, and she sighs heavily while leaning against the taxi, suddenly feeling sick. Pinkie Pie feels like she’s going to puke, her legs are wobbly, and she feels her brain throbbing with every beat of her heart.

“I don’t have it,” says Pinkie Pie sickly.

“You don’t have it?” repeats one of the guards skeptically with a raised eyebrow.

Pinkie Pie nods, having to lean against the taxi for support.

“Then what are you doing driving a taxi without them?” demands another guard.

“And why are you taking fares when your clearly off shift?” says another as he points to the sign posted on the passenger window.

Pinkie Pie shrugs. “I needed the bits.”

“Open the trunk,” orders the guard that pulled her over.

Pinkie Pie reluctantly grabs her keys, eyeing each guard carefully and trying to think of anything other than the sick feeling that has conveniently arrived when she couldn’t afford it. She approaches the side of the vehicle and carefully opens the trunk, being sure to avoid the scolding boiler engine, and she steps away as the guard looks inside. As the guard inspects the contents stuffed inside, Pinkie Pie’s eyes narrow like a predator feeling threatened and she starts tapping her hooves impatiently.

“What the hay?”

Pinkie Pie suddenly slams the guard’s face against the rim of the vehicle and he crumbles to the ground, unconscious and bloody. Then she whirls around and jabs the second guard in the throat before knocking out his footing and slamming his head to the ground. The remaining three swear and bring their weapons to bear as Pinkie Pie turns to them, eyes evil with a twisted smile.

“Do you boys wanna play a game?” chuckles Pinkamena.

The remaining guards scream and fire as Pinkamena lunges at them, and-

~~~~~~~~~~

Pinkie Pie jolts upright in a bathroom stall, trembling violently with sweat dripping off of her nose and mane. Pinkie Pie whimpers and clutches her head as she rocks back and forth on the toilet, her hooves bloody and face wet from crying.

“That didn’t happen. That didn’t happen. That didn’t happen.”

“Oh, but it did, and it was fun,” giggles a voice sounding similar to Pinkie Pie’s while the stall door creaks opens. Pinkie Pie looks up and stares, horrified, at the pony in front of her. She’s staring at herself, only her colors are darker, her mane is flat and she has a sick, twisted smile. “What’s the matter, Pinkie, aren’t you glad to see me?”

Pinkie Pie shakes her head, too terrified to speak, and Pinkamena sighs in mock disappointment.

“Well, that sucks,” says Pinkamena, “considering I’m the only one you have left.”

“You’re lying,” says Pinkie Pie quietly, choking on her tears.

“Am I? Pinkie, you’re a smart pony, you know you are alone because you have a talent for making others miserable.”

Pinkie Pie presses her hooves against her ears, shaking her head. “I’m not listening!”

"You know it’s the truth.” Pinkamena grabs Pinkie Pie’s head and twists it to look at her. “You know its the truth, that is why you try to hide it. Yet no matter how hard you try, you. Always. Fail.”

“Please stop,” whimpers Pinkie Pie.

“Killing Spike ruined your friends, and just imagine what daddy will do when he finds out you killed his prodigy.”

Pinkie Pie screams and rams Pinkamena off of her feet. They both crash to the ground, with Pinkamena in between Pinkie Pie’s hooves and the Element of Laughter growling madly through gritted teeth. Pinkamena isn’t fazed, though, she meets Pinkie Pie’s eyes with a cool look as her pupils shift to an emerald color.

“He’ll no doubt disown you since you already made mommy hang herself,” snickers Pinkamena.

Pinkie Pie screams with bloodthirsty rage and slams her hoof down on Pinkamena’s face; it flattens and makes a HONK!

Pinkamena’s face inflates and Pinkie Pie tries again. But every time her hooves smash Pinkamena’s face to a pancake, they make the same honking noise and inflate a couple of seconds later. She continues punching the face, and even grabs it by the sides and slams it on the tile. But all it does is make Pinkamena laugh, taunt her, and make honking noises. Plus Pinkamena’s face always inflates back to its normal size.

“Stop hitting yourself!” cackles Pinkamena. "Why are you hitting yourself? Quit hitting yourself!"

Pinkie Pie screams and slams both of her hooves down on her evil twin’s face and the impact leaves cracks in the dirty tile, but the results are the same.

[[[[O]]]]

Pinkie Pie’s eyes shoot open, her eyes red and puffy and face soaked, when a deafening, continuous honk blares for everyone to hear. She groans and pulls her head off of the taxi’s cracked dashboard and looks to where the horn is. Her hoof is over it and the horn button is shattered, but that is not what is concerning her. What is concerning her is that her hooves, which are bleeding from the scratches she got from the splintered wood, is that her blood is mixing with foreign blood. Pinkie Pie’s eyes bulge and her jaw drops as she clumsily exits the vehicle, falling on her back and cracking her head against the pavement. She winces as she pulls herself up, rubbing her head and trying to ignore the fresh pain in her back. Her ribs also feel fragile and her muscles sore. Her basic disguise is gone, too.

When Pinkie Pie stops rubbing her head, her whole body drops to the ground and she covers her mouth. The whole taxi damaged; its window is shattered with blood on the edge of the broken glass, the frame is riddled with cracks, and there is even a hole through the passenger door. Pinkie Pie gulps as she cautiously approaches the trunk, which has a bloodstain at the base. She opens up the trunk and finds sacks of bits marked with the Royal Bank seal. Pinkie Pie slams the trunk shut and drums her hooves against it, trying to remember what had happened. She remembers robbing the bank to get the money to pay Iron Will, feeling sick when she got pulled over, and asking to leave the vehicle so they can inspect. Then nothing.

Pinkie Pie covers her eyes with her hooves and drops to her haunches, shaking her head in disbelief.

“No, no, no, no, this can’t be happening,” whimpers Pinkie Pie.

“Pinkie, is that you?” says a familiar mare in disbelief.

Pinkie Pie stops whimpering and drags her hooves away from her eyes as she slowly turns to the mare, trembling and eyes watering.

“Help me,” begs Pinkie Pie in a terrified whimper.

=**********=

Trudging down the coast of Equestria is a large, blocky boat with two smokestacks spewing out exhaust and a large wheel on its side, turning the water and pushing it forward. The boat is elegant and decorated with bright colors and plenty of outdoor seating with lifeboats hanging underneath the railing to allow a great view of the ocean. And resting on one of the benches, outside and trying to enjoy the view is the Magnificent Monte Fountain. He’s sitting on the bench, watching the former Great and Powerful Trixie pace in circles in front of him. He has his head rested on his hoof and his eyes are half lidded while Trixie’s ears are perked up to the fullest and her eyes constantly locking onto passengers or crew who have the misfortune of walking too close. Essentially, she is creeping out everyone that passes the two.

“Are you going to relax anytime soon?” asks Monte.

“I can’t relax, for all I know Brisk Wind could have sent somepony on this ship to kill us,” says Trixie, focusing her eyes on a young unicorn couple walking towards them, licking ice cream cones levitating in front of them. She shoots her hoof towards them, growling: “Back off.”

The couple freezes and slowly back away with their tongues still on the cones. When Trixie takes a step towards them, growling, they turn tail and run. Monte shouts an apology and tries to explain that Trixie is just off her meds. With that statement she glares at Monte.

“Don’t tell them that!” snaps Trixie.

“Well you’re acting a little nutty so I have to give them explanation. Besides, you are a pill popper who is off her meds so what we have to do is-” Monte hops off the bench and grabs Trixie’s shoulders and looks her in the eyes, “find a way to calm you down.”

Trixie bats Monte’s hooves off of her shoulders.

“Don’t touch me. And don’t tell me to calm down.”

“Excuse me,” says an ibex wearing a sailor uniform in broken Equestrian, “we have received complaints about the missus.”

Trixie sticks her nose in the air and looks away while Monte chuckles uneasily, wraps his hoof around Trixie’s neck and tugs her in for a one-hoof hug. Trixie nearly loses her balance because of that, but she is able to regain it quickly and give Monte a death glare.

“Oh, yeah, my wife is off of her meds so she’s a little antsy right now,” says Monte.

Trixie rolls her eyes and looks down at the waterproofed, polished floorboards of the ship. She can see her reflection, and Monte was right, she does look a bit butch. But she likes Fancypants’s “toned” description better.

The ibex arches an eyebrow. “Why is she walking without medicine?”

“Simple.” Monte raises his hoof and his mouth is open to give an answer. But after five seconds of silence, he lowers his hoof. “She’s a naughty girl.”

Trixie’s eyes widen and she feels her blood heating up in her cheeks and ears, then her gaze drifts to Monte, shifting to a murderous glare along the way. Then she is caught off guard when Monte speaks to the ibex in his native tongue fluently. At first Monte and the ibex sailor appear to be having a serious conversation, but it gradually turns into a lighthearted one. Soon the zony and ibex are laughing and Trixie feels completely lost, but has a feeling it has something to do with her; especially when Monte hugs her tighter. Trixie tries to leave, but Monte keeps his hoof hooked around her neck, forcing her to stay with him. She has to endure the conversation for a good ten minutes before the two finally say their farewell.

“Ah, das alles macht sinn. Nun halten sie unter kontrolle und genießen sie ihren tag, Herr Fountain,” says the ibex with a smile.

“Auch sie, dank für sein verständnis,” says Monte, waving farewell to the ibex. When the ibex is out of sight, Monte sighs and looks at Trixie, ears drooping when he realizes she’s glaring at him. “Is something wrong, honey?”

“Don’t you ‘honey’ me!” yells Trixie, shrugging him off and jabbing his chest with her hoof. “First you call me a ‘naughty girl’ and then you speak that weird language, leaving me in the dark! What the hay were you talking about, anyway!? It was me wasn’t it? You were talking about me!”

Monte smiles. “First off, it is not a weird language, it is Bernesenese. Secondly, yes we were talking about you. I was just explaining to Herr Strudel that you have some conditions and that we accidently left your extra pills at home. I just have to keep you under control and nopony will get into any sort of trouble.”

Trixie huffs. “You were talking for almost ten minutes.”

“There was a lot to talk about. Now why don’t you have a seat on the bench and relax?”

Trixie grumbles and reluctantly lays down on the bench, when Monte tries to take a spot next to her, she snaps her hoof out and orders him to the other side. Monte’s ears droop and he goes to the other side, pouting. Trixie watches the sun setting in the distance, which she admits is pretty, especially loving how the light off of the water. She also loves the comforting feeling of the boat’s barely noticeable, gentle rocking, and the sound of the water being churned from the giant wheel. The temperature is not too bad, too. However, in spite of all these things, she can’t sit still and continues to glare at those passing by. A minute or two passes before Trixie puts her hoof on the floor.

“Trixie, no hoofy on the floory,” says Monte like a father talking to a toddler.

“I was stretching!” snaps Trixie, turning her glare to Monte as she tucks her leg back.

Monte simply smiles and looks back at the scenery with Trixie, but while Monte is relaxed, Trixie is fidgeting. Monte has to constantly tell Trixie to relax, make her sit down, and on one occasion, hold hold her back with his magic because of her attempts to find an assassin almost led to her ripping apart a cleaner’s cart. Needless to say, Monte spewed a seemingly endless line of apologies to the poor female ibex while keeping Trixie levitated off of the ground. The ibex ran.

When the ibex is out of sight, Monte drops Trixie on the bench and scowls at her as she adjusts her position.

“Well, I hope you’re happy, you just traumatized a maid,” says Monte angrily.

“I had my reasons,” grumbles Trixie.

“Oh, like Brisk Wind fitting an assassin in a stuffed cart? Who is she going to stick in there? A killer midget? A psychotic filly?”

“A bomb?”

“...You are a disturbed individual.”

"Yeah, and this disturbed individual is going-”

Trixie stands up, but is tugged back onto the bench by Monte’s magic.

“Nowhere,” finishes Monte. “Now you’re going to sit there, you’re going to watch the scenery with me, and you’re going to love it.”

Trixie sighs in defeat and lays on the bench, shifting her position so that she is as far from Monte as possible. The two watch the scenery, and Trixie tries to relax by humming the zebra lullaby that Wazza taught her, but it only brings tears to her eyes and reminds her of how Adanz tried to kill her. Trixie whimpers quietly and folds her hooves over each other so she can rest her head on them, and she closes her eyes, hoping to think of something other than what had happened. She fails; all she can hear is Adanz accusing her of betrayal, feel his claws dig into her and the air rushing past her when he tosses her over the edge using Monte. Then she feels a hoof against her shoulder. Trixie’s eyes snap open and her body goes on autopilot as she tackles her enemy to the ground with her hoof on their chest and the other raised and engulfed in an electric ball. She is panting and her watery eyes are narrowed on the pony under her, too terrified to care about the pain in her horn.

“Trixie, relax, it’s me,” says Monte, his voice shaky and his hooves raised defensively. “It’s Monte. The zony you hate.”

Trixie continues to stare at Monte, still breathing heavily and her hoof charged for an attack. Her tears are now that of pain and fear, being that her horn injury is making it feel as though her horn is about to crack into pieces.

“It’s okay, Trixie, you’re safe,” says Monte softly as he cautiously pushes her charged hoof away from his face.

The energy around Trixie’s hoof and horn disappears and a look of horror and shock crosses her mind when she realizes what she was about to do. Monte offers a comforting smile and gently removes Trixie’s hoof from his chest and pulls her in for a hug. He gently shushes her and rubs her back as she trembles in his hug, closing his eyes when he feels her tears on his shoulder.

“I promise nopony will get you,” whispers Monte, closing his eyes and tightening his hug around her as he lowers his head. “I promise.”

=**********=

Brisk Wind walks into a dimly lit, all concrete hallway with Andromeda and another mare that is leading them. They approach a cell at the end of the hallway where a single figure lies huddled in the corner, eyes wide and constantly darting around the room, whimpering and trembling.

“Is this her?” asks Brisk Wind.

“Yes ma’am,” says the escort. “She was picked up shortly after the Vigilante apprehended her gang. The Night Guards caught her flying around after curfew near the scene of the crime, so they took her in. It took us a while, but we found out she was the daughter of Nimbus Cloud and ran his Barnville narcotics business under the guidance of her brother, Sunshine Cloud. That is why we contacted you.”

“Why are we here, exactly, Director?” asks Andromeda as she takes note of the terrified mare having no cutie mark.

Brisk Wind smirks and steps towards the cage, lightly tapping it with her hoof.

“Scarlet Cloud, I am Director Brisk Wind and this is my associate, Lieutenant Andromeda Cluster. We are here to check up on you.”

Andromeda casts Brisk Wind a skeptical glance, but quickly resumes staring at Scarlet.

“I don’t believe you,” whispers Scarlet.

“Why not?” asks Brisk Wind, ruffling her feathers slightly.

“These are your ponies. They follow your orders.”

“Oh, interrogations. That is nothing personal, it’s just one of the ways we protect this fine nation. But while our methods may seem cruel, we are also generous to those who assist us.”

Scarlet looks at Brisk Wind, skepticism mixing with her fear.

“What more could I give you? I already told all I knew about Barnville and the gang I ran with.”

“Scarlet, have you heard of the Rehabilitation Program?” Scarlet nods hesitantly. “Well, I can put you in that program since we have released more questionable ponies than you under it. I can put you in that program under the guidance of Andromeda, and if you do me a favor I can not only give you freedom, but absolute freedom.”

Scarlet stands up, intrigued by Brisk Wind’s offer, but Andromeda scowls and taps the EIB director on the shoulder and asks to have a word with her. The two walk a good distance away from the cell before Andromeda speaks.

“Director, what the hay are you doing?” asks Andromeda in an angry whisper.

“My job,” replies Brisk Wind with a cool smile.

“Okay, but why are you saying I will be a convicts babysitter when I’m supposed to lead the tactical squads of the EIB?”

“Because, Andromeda, there are hardly any ponies who have your skill in getting what I need to get done, done. I would do this task myself, but I have to stay here and root out the rest of Gilda’s empire and monitor Equestria for more threats.”

“What task are you talking about?”

Brisk Wind’s smile broadens and she heads back to Scarlet’s cell, Andromeda following close behind and repeating her question. When they are at the cell again, Scarlet’s skepticism has returned, which only seems to grow when Brisk Wind orders the cage to be opened and she steps inside. Scarlet has to take a couple of steps back to allow Brisk Wind in, and her gaze falls to the floor when she sees Andromeda quietly staring at her in a less than friendly way.

“Scarlet, how would you like to go to Bernes?”

=**********=

Quill Pen steps into her abode, glad to be home after being locked up, interrogated by Shining Armor, and then paying the doctor a visit to get her bandaged. While she is dead tired and wants to do nothing but sleep, she can’t because of the next article she has to write. Normally she wouldn’t worry about getting it done, but a whole day wasted with a case of the jitters to mix with her barely started article does not bode well for quality.

Quill Pen sighs heavily and goes to her kitchen, deciding that if she’s going to catch up she will need to do it with a full stomach. She rummages through the fridge and pulls out a bag of chopped flowers, then she goes to her pantry and grabs some diced hay. After making a small salad she carries her food to her work station. Unlike the rest of her loft, which is kept nice and tidy in just about every aspect, her workspace is a disaster zone. Scrap paper carpets the floor with empty delivery containers, stacks of folders bulging with drafts make towers in the most random of places, and her four garbage bins are overflowing with empty ink cartridges and whatever pieces of garbage she had decided to toss in. In fact, the only area that is clean is her desk, which is mostly taken up by the behemoth machine known as the typewriter. That, and what little space is left is taken up by a basket and stacks of fresh paper and notebooks.

Upon entering her room, Quill Pen turns on the ceiling fan and her radio, which is resting on the floor, brushes loose garbage from her chair and brings a folding table to her. When that is all done, she relaxes in her seat and prepares to work.

“Sorry about being late, kiddos,” says DJ-Pon3, sounding tired, “I just lost track of time after talking with some buddies and having some fun at ‘Klumsy K’s’.”

Quill Pen takes out her notebooks and flips through the pages, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling crawling up her spine.

“We have a lot to talk about and music to listen to. First off, everypony’s favorite griffin crime lord supposedly died today in the hospital when R and D failed at a procedure that would have saved her life. My thoughts? Good riddance. That what you get for screwing with the Vigilante and all us good folks!”

Quill Pen glances at the radio for a second before tossing aside her worthless notebooks in search of the one she needs, mumbling about needing better organization skills.

“I’ll talk more about it later when I actually have more info. But the next subject I find to be very interesting. The Education Equality Act, a bill being pushed through the council, will make it so the Royal Government takes control of the educational system completely! You thought Luna was mad about nationalizing the media? Well, my little ponies, just wait until she accuses you of corrupting knowledge. Which reminds me, Luna has renounced her title as Princess. Did I already tell you-?”

Quill Pen shuts off, grumbling about DJ-Pon3 annoying her, then resumes her work. She spends a couple of minutes studying her notes and making a rough outline of what she’s going to write before something catches her eye. The wire that controls the blinds on her window is missing, and the blinds are shut, which she always keeps open.

Quill Pen cocks her head quizzically and gets up to inspect the odd scene. After getting up, her radio is enveloped in a magical mist and clicks on to a station playing loud, classical music. Quill Pen turns to her radio just in time to see the missing wire wrap around her neck via magic and she tug her off of her feet. Upon hitting the ground, her world flashes white and a throbbing pain radiates throughout her head. Then the cord tightens. Quill Pen gags and trashes on the ground, trying desperately to free herself from the wire by any means she could, but the more she struggled, the harder the squeeze becomes. She starts panicking when she feels her lungs getting ready to pop and her vision fading. She kicks and tries screaming for help, but her scream comes out as a weak gasp and her kicks are awkward, only doing as much as moving garbage. Then, to her horror, she sees the wire going towards her ceiling fan, making her struggle harder and scream louder, but it is all in vain. In one swift motion, the wire gets tangled and before she could release one last stifled scream, her whole body is jerked up, snapping her neck in an instant and breaking the fan.

oooOOOooo

A unicorn’s horn dims as he steps out from the closet in Quill Pen’s workroom, wearing a painter’s full body jumpsuit with a mask that covers all but his eyes. He stares at Quill Pen’s dangling body, and when the fan brings her body to face him so that he can see her lifeless eyes, he shows no sign of remorse. He’s completely satisfied with his work and he quietly leaves the room, being sure to turn off the radio and light before closing the door on his way out.