Tinkermane

by Razorbeam

Rating: teen
Tags: Original Character, Adventure, Twilight Sparkle, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Romance
Length: 124058

Twilight discovers true love in the heart of a steam engineer.

Love comes in many forms: love for your family, your friends, your country, and your people. Twilight Sparkle has experienced it all, except one kind. True love, the love you stake the rest of your life on. As the royal wedding of her dear friends draws nearer, she begins to feel the desire for a love of her own.

Troubled and lonely from the newly-revealed gap in her life, she discovers that sometimes love is found in the strangest of places.

Takes place in the years after the epilogue of Visionary. Special thanks to _Medicshy for his editing and feedback on each chapter!

Published 2012-09-03 13:54:01 UTC
Last updated 2013-06-12 18:11:23 UTC

II: A Vapor-veiled Wonder

Sparks danced in the still air of the small warehouse, lighting the dark around them for their brief life spans before they died. Yet more and more flooded the area as the welding torch did its work, melding a seam that had previously been poorly sealed. 'Poorly' because its observer had found only a single defect, a single weak point that would never have undone the weld. Yet weakness in any form could not be tolerated; this work was his greatest achievement.

The light reflected off the lenses of his goggles, soot lining his face around them as he pressed it close to the heat to better examine the weld for the fifth time. With a satisfied smile, he grabbed a stiff, steel-wire brush, and gently swept at the surface of the still-molten metal as it cooled, giving it a pleasing pattern and hiding the ugly beads without damaging the integrity of the deeper bond of metals.

Magic dropped the brush on a nearby workbench and lowered the goggles past his scarred jaw line to hang comfortably around his neck. The steam-tinker looked over his work, eyes resting in two white patches amidst a mask of soot. It was the most beautiful piece of technology he had ever crafted. This machine had as much of a soul as any living creature, for he had poured his own into it willingly, minute by minute during its tedious, two-year long construction.

There had been very little in the way of blueprints and planning, at least officially. Much of his prototype work had simply been rough sketches, indecipherable musings of a creative mind converted to poorly-drawn images. He'd wasted no time on detailed sketches, for plans often failed; all that mattered were the calculations, the theories put to practice. Every piece was extensively tested, constantly disassembled and rebuilt to improve it. His mind was the blueprint, and after all of his manipulations with the machine he knew every bolt, down to the last thread turned.

He knew well the risks of thoroughly outlining something of this magnitude before building it. It limited the work, made things rigid that should be flexible, made average what could be masterful. His mind couldn't work within the limitations of diagrams and charts. Each part was specially designed for its sole purpose, its dimensions influenced by those that came before, and changing those that followed to create the more amazing whole. It was not random or wild; it was beautiful.

It was ready.

The unicorn laughed gently to himself, his deep chuckle fading quickly in the dusty air. "It's all you now," he said quietly, patting the metal exterior of his beloved work of art. "I built you, but you've got to do it. You're the one who has to show all of them just how wrong they were about me," he said quietly, pulling a bottle of whiskey close with his magic, and taking a deep pull.

With a clink of the bottle against the side of his masterpiece and one final drink, he cracked it over the mechanical wonder's solid frame, shattering the container to bits as if he were sending a ship off on its maiden voyage.

"Good luck, Nomad; give 'em hell."

Twilight sat up sleepily, her groggy eyes sweeping over the unfamiliar room, trying to register where she was as her brain did its best to kick-start itself. As she woke up a little more it finally connected that she was in her hotel room, and so with that mystery solved she dropped down onto her back again, sighing in comfort as she wiggled into the mattress.

She'd only had those two glasses of wine, so she hadn't gotten drunk or ended up with a hangover, but she had been out so late that the tired feeling was about as unpleasant. Looking at the wall-clock in the room, she noted with distaste that somehow she had woken up at her usual time, despite the dramatic change in her sleep schedule.

With a grumble she forced herself out of bed, realizing that if she went back to sleep she would likely miss the start of the festival. She wandered over to the mirror, knowing her hair was badly out of place just from the feel of things on top of her head. Sure enough it was a purple and pink explosion, some of it sticking out one way and some the complete other. Allowing herself a laugh at her catastrophic bed-head, she resolved to take a quick shower to sort it all out. She was dry and out the door fifteen minutes later, hair back in its usual, basic style. She'd never really gotten the hang of doing her mane, so she just opted to always keep things simple.

She wasn't sure what kind of 'festival' a steamtech convention was, but most things going by that term usually had souvenirs and such, so she took her bag along just in case as she made her way downstairs. Fliers were posted everywhere stating that the festival was hosted in Central Square, so she figured it would be easy enough to find once she got on Main Street. With that in mind, she reasoned she probably had time to grab a quick breakfast, so she snagged a muffin from the buffet on the first floor before making her way into the streets.

She chewed on the last few bits of the muffin, crumbs trailing all over the street behind her as she turned her head side to side, checking street signs. She headed down one she recognized, at last coming to Main Street. The stalls from the night before had all vanished like she had expected, and the big stores were back in business, though traffic didn't seem to be stopping for their wares. All the ponies on the street were heading north, with some clear destination in mind.

It wasn't hard to figure out where they were going, so Twilight joined up, meandering through the crowd where possible to get closer to her destination. A banner soon passed overhead with the now-familiar phrase '12th Annual Steamtech Festival'. Twilight felt her heart speed up in anticipation, and she reared up on her back hooves now and then to get a better look around.

Four streets lead to the city's central area. True to its name it was a large square, at least three blocks wide and long, ringed in by tall buildings. The largest building was the town hall, a five-story architectural masterpiece of white marble with a golden dome resting atop it. A stage was erected in front of it with a podium in place, as well as chairs behind that where numerous city officials or ponies of importance were seated.

Wooden platforms lined the outer edges of the square, some larger than others and all on wheels. Near each of these large carts was a small booth where sat the engineer who owned the object on board. Each contest entry was covered in thick canvas sheets, regardless of size. Twilight came to the conclusion that they were each a secret, and realized that this was a true competition of intellect and creativity. No one contestant knew what the others had designed or built, everything had been brought here the same way; covered and carted.

There was one entry not on a wooden cart, and whatever it was was significantly larger than most of the others. She couldn't see underneath it from her angle, but it had to have wheels to have gotten here like everything else, especially considering its size. It was roughly as tall as a pony, and three times again as long. The machine was vaguely rectangular, but seemed to be missing all of its corners. The top wasn't level, and the sheets rose higher on the sides than in the center.

Most curious of all to her was the pony seated in the booth next to it. It was the same unicorn that had walked off with the bottle of whiskey from the night before! She vaguely recalled him having said something about a contest, and put a hoof to her face in frustration when she realized she had missed a perfect opportunity to talk with an actual steam-tinker. She'd been too caught up in things at the time to even think about it!

He was very pointedly looking at the main stage, which was only a short distance from his machine, whatever it was. A great deal of the other steam-tinkers were looking his way, and none of them appeared overly happy to see him, she noticed. She found that curious, but her train of thought was interrupted as somepony on stage magically amplified their own voice, drawing a hush over the crowd.

"Greetings, ladies and gentlecolts, and welcome to Manehattan's Twelfth Annual Steamtech Festival!" an elderly mare called out, most likely some city official. Her greeting was met with loud cheers, and when those finally died down she spoke again. "This year we have more contestants than any other previous, with many of last year's contenders coming back again! I know that previous shows are going to be hard to top, but I can say with certainty the brilliant engineers across Equestria have really geared up for this one! No pun intended," she added with a light chuckle, which the crowd shared.

"Now, to kick this thing off right, we'll get a word from last year's festival champion! Mr. Gearrick Tinkermane!" she said, bursting into applause as she backed away from the podium. The crowd applauded as well, and Twilight's jaw dropped as that same scarred unicorn stallion took the stage. His body language made it clear he wasn't quite comfortable with all of the attention, but he did look sincerely happy to hear people applauding him.

"Good morning, ladies and gents," he said, his voice free of any wavering. The discomfort in his body language was gone suddenly, and whether it was willpower or simple resignation that he would have to speak, Twilight couldn't say. Sporadic, echoing calls of good morning rang out from the crowd, widening Gearrick's smile on stage. "Hard to believe it's already been two years since I moved to this fine city; and what a two years it's been. I've seen some magnificent things since I came here, many of them wonders of engineering far beyond my level of skill."

"That said, I just want to encourage you all to give each of the steam-tinkers here today your avid support and vote for the machine you love the most. After all, we don't invent just to improve your lives; these machines are works of art. So treat them as such, and give them all a good, hard look before you decide. Thank you," he finished quietly, still smiling warmly.

The crowd applauded again as he left the stage, returning to his entry. The other tinkers refused to look at him now, it seemed; all of the hateful looks were gone, replaced either by confusion or guilt.

The official spoke up again, announcing the outline of the day's events. "As always, the first stage of the festival is the reveal. Each tinker will bring his creation to the center of the square and describe its purpose; the demonstrations will come later in stage two! As with every year we will start from the left of city hall, meaning that last year's winner will reveal his creation last," she explained.

Gearrick nodded in acknowledgement when she looked at him. Satisfied, she began to call off names. Each entrant came forward, explaining their device. Twilight saw and heard incredible things she had never even dreamed of. A device that could absorb clouds to convert them into electricity. Any pegasus weather team could turn a cloudy sky into a full day's worth of electricity for a town of Ponyville's size with such a thing!

Dozens of others came forward; a steam-powered drilling machine that could detect water to dig wells, a machine that could fold part of itself paper-flat and slide under heavy objects before expanding to lift them high enough to walk under.

Just by the descriptions alone Twilight was astounded. "Is this how it is every year?" she asked quietly, her excitement clear in her voice. A nearby older couple noted her rapt attention and laughed. Though she had just been talking to herself, they answered her question readily.

"It sure is, young lady," the older gentlecolt replied, his smile warm underneath his hat. "But only about a half of 'em will be left after the second stage. It's one thing to say yer machine'll do somethin'. A whole 'nother fer it to work. I don't expect the lifter machine'll make it," he said, posing an example. "Some folks even place bets on who'll win the prize. I've got good money on Gearrick this year. Wish I'd bet on him in the last one" he said with a chuckle.

"Who is Gearrick anyways?" Twilight asked. She'd heard of many famous engineers from Fillydelphia and Manehattan since her childhood, but she'd never heard of him until today.

"Not many ponies know, really. He's a strange fella, but brilliant. Came all on his lonesome from out of town a couple years back and tried to join the steam-tinker's guild. I don't know all the details, but from what I heard they turned him down. That was his first year, before he started entering the contests. He keeps to himself mostly, though I don't know why. Seemed nice enough anytime I spoke with him," the gentlecolt replied, putting a hoof to his chin as he pondered that.

"What was his entry last year?" Twilight asked, intrigued by it all. How was it he'd won a contest this size and nobody knew anything about him?

"It was the most amazing thing," the stallion's wife gushed. "He invented a pair of mechanical wings! They weren't designed fer long flights, but rather short distances. He could fly about as high as fifty feet before the steam pressure got too low, but then he'd just glide back down."

"But here's the amazing part," the gentlecolt said with a smile. "When stage two started, nobody believed a word he said about his invention. Regular ponies just don't fly, they said. The other engineers laughed at him, claiming his wings would never work," he let his tone trail off, full of suspense and easily baiting a very curious Twilight.

"What happened?" she asked eagerly, inching closer to the couple to hear better.

The stallion grinned. "In his very first test flight, he jumped off town hall," he said, pointing to the top of the domed building directly behind the announcer's stage, nearly five stories tall. "Woulda killed him if it didn't work, but wouldn't ya know it, he flew. Flew like a bird."

Twilight was dumbstruck. In his very first test ever? "Why would anypony risk that? Is he crazy?" she asked, her tone sharp with disbelief.

"Prob'ly. After all, only a crazy pony would say he can make himself fly without wings of his own," he chuckled. "I think what it was was his pride. No stallion likes bein' told what he can and can't do. Them other engineers, the ones who turned him down from the guild, told him he couldn't fly, and he didn't just want to tell 'em they were wrong; he wanted to prove it. To him, it musta been worth bettin' his life on," the gentlecolt said quietly, trailing off as he remembered that daring leap a year ago, watching and fully expecting to see a madpony plummet to his death.

Twilight went silent also, unsure of what to say. It made sense; nobody would react well to being told that something they had spent so much time and energy on was pointless. Even so, who would willingly leap from such a height just on faith?

A short break for lunch was called around noon, but Twilight didn't leave. She was too excited now to be hungry, and so she had stuck around, inching her way closer to the main staging area at the center of the square. A few other eager ponies had shared her sentiments and stuck around, but not nearly enough of them to keep her from getting some prime real estate to see the remaining entries.

It was nearing three in the afternoon by the time they had managed to go all the way around the square to each of the engineers. At last the call came out for Gearrick, and Twilight realized that ever since that conversation with the older couple she'd been holding her breath for this moment. It was as much about knowing who he was now as what he had built. Was he a madpony? A genius? Was he so cocky that he would put his own life in danger, or was it something else?

She pressed herself right up against the low wall ringing the staging area, leaning out past it to get an even better look at this final entry. She figured the wall was in place to keep ponies from getting too close in case of a pressure accident, as well as to give the inventor some space to show off. Even so, she wished it wasn't there.

Gearrick had his back to her, walking in reverse and pulling his large machine behind him with his magic. He didn't seem to be struggling with it, despite its obvious mass, so Twilight assumed whatever it was was designed to be moved. At last he had it positioned, and so he turned to face her side of the crowd, where the front of his device presumably pointed.

"Ladies and gents, I give you the Nomad!" he called proudly, ripping the sheet off of the device in a flourish. The device began to rotate slowly as he moved it with his magic, panning it about on all sides so that everyone could get a clear view.

A collective gasp ran through the crowd as they beheld it. It was huge, all glass and bronze plates welded stylishly together, seams only visible where they were not distracting to the eye. It sported six wheels, with four in the back, two on either side of it. These were larger than the two in the front, and between the front wheels rested two objects starkly resembling the lights Twilight had seen atop the streetlamps all over the city. It had four seats inside of it, two in the front and two in the back, and two large 'doors' in the side that rose up instead of outward. Glass panes lined the top of each door, as well as along the nose of the vehicle, creating a barrier for the front seats.

In front of one of the seats was a small wheel stuck to a peg, reminding Twilight of the handles on a bicycle she had seen Pinkie Pie use once. Dozens of levers and buttons dotted a front panel, serving only Celestia knew which purpose. Twilight quietly doubted even the princess would have a clue, in all reality, but the expression held.

Pipes ran in symmetrical fashion all along the sides below the door and the tapered front of the metal behemoth. The back of the machine seemed to be where the majority of the work was done, for it contained far more piping and a good deal of space behind the seats where the amount of hidden machinery under its metal hide couldn't even be estimated.

With the crowd already speechless, Gearrick continued. "It's a vehicle, much like a bicycle or train, but it does not need any tracks or roads, my friends. The Nomad is aptly named, for it is designed to traverse even the most dangerous of terrain. Ice, sand, water, and even sheer vertical faces are no match for it... in theory, of course," he added with a laugh. Most ponies had recovered enough by now to be listening with rapt attention, and all shared his laugh when he said 'in theory'. After all, that was what stage one was all about, and after having had to choke on their words last year, few were about to say out loud they thought he was crazy.

But they were all thinking it.

"What a load of crap!" came a catcall from somewhere in the crowd.

"Oh great, here we go," one of the mares near Twilight muttered. "This is exactly what happened last year. Some idiot has to ruin a perfectly good speech."

Twilight watched with a slight feeling of guilt as Gearrick's smile shrank by a few teeth. She had been thinking similar thoughts, though not nearly as rude. How could something with just wheels, and something obviously that heavy, traverse water? Or scale a cliff?

He seemed to struggle regaining his speech after that, which only made her feel worse for sharing the rude pony's thoughts. Her guilt got the better of her, and so she felt the need to help him recover. "How does it work?" she called out, her tone clearly sincere and not mocking.

Gearrick locked eyes with her, and she immediately felt sheepish for having singled herself out like that. But his warm, confident smirk came back full force thanks to her question, and she could see the gratitude in his eyes.

"An excellent question, young lady!" he said with a warm laugh, and Twilight watched as he cast off what remained of that rude viewer's influence. It was a physical change as much as an emotional one, a complete shift in his demeanor as he regained his momentum.

"Many of you are aware how a steam engine works in a modern train. The steam pressure forces a set of pistons to drive the engine, which then creates the electricity to power the motors, lights, and other systems. Normally the steam engine takes up most of the front of the train, but I have succeeded in making a smaller, albeit less powerful, model of this engine. The Nomad has six such engines in it. But just because they're small doesn't mean they're light," he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck as if trying to massage an aching muscle.

The crowd laughed again, and Twilight shared a small giggle herself at his antics. He was by far the best showman yet.

"Where is the water stored for the steam?" someone else put in.

"There are six water tanks in the rear, each with their own heat sources. They can be disengaged from their individual engines by a set of levers, so the Nomad can be run with as much or as little electricity as it needs. For traversing the city streets, a single engine is more than enough, but to scale a cliff it would require the use of all six to fight the gravity," Gearrick explained, turning away from Twilight to address the new speaker.

Twilight felt an odd mix of relief and disappointment now that he was no longer talking to her specifically. She set that aside for now though, too caught up in the physics of his machine. Gearrick's speech kept right on going.

"Regardless of how many engines are running at once, the pressure, and thus the electrical output, can be controlled by the driver through a series of pedals. Coals in specially-shielded bins are raised or lowered to control the rate of heat transfer. A sizable supply of new coal resides in the very back to ensure that the heat source doesn't deplete, and if my calculations are correct, the Nomad can stay active for a full two-day's worth of travel even with all six engines running; that's twelve days if you only use one engine."

Twilight took advantage of a short lull in his explanation and lost herself in mental imagery as her mind tried to recreate the inner workings of the back of the machine. It seemed incredibly complex, and she couldn't think of any way that such a small space could contain that many engines as well as enough coal to power them for so long.

"The exhaust is condensed and redistributed into the holding tanks," was the first thing she heard when she came back to reality. It was easy enough to infer the question she had missed though, so she was glad she hadn't been left behind. "The steam gets vented to the front of the Nomad, where the air from its forward motion passes through this grate, cooling the pipes and turning the vapor back into liquid; it will cool over time regardless of whether the vehicle is moving or not, but this helps to accelerate the process. Pressure from the steam coming in behind it forces the liquid water back into the tanks," he said confidently, and it was clear that he had at least managed to test this much. "In the event that the pressure becomes too great, it can be vented through these pipes here, which run parallel to the pipes that vent the smoke from the coal," he finished, gesturing to two very large pipes obscured by the rear wheels on the bottom of the Nomad.

"Ladies and gentlecolts, I hate to cut your questions short, but stage one is coming to a close!" came the call from the announcer's podium. "The festival will remain open until seven tonight; until then feel free to browse the entries and meet the ponies who have brought out these wonderful inventions."

Gearrick made a hissing sound and scrunched up his nose, as if what the official had just said was the worst thing he could have possibly heard, garnering a few laughs. "I guess that's my cue to shut up, ladies and gents," he said with a disappointed chuckle. "I hope to see a few of you over by the Nomad later; I'm not nearly out of things to say about it," he finished, wadding the sheet up with his magic and stuffing it into the back seats. He stopped suddenly, a mischievous smile coming over his face.

"Now that I've unveiled this beast, there's room for one more to ride with me while I go park it. Anyone want to come along?" he asked. There was a moment of hushed silence while everyone processed what he had just said before a wave of shouting overwhelmed him.

He just smiled and laughed, clearly the reaction he had been looking to get from the crowd. He scanned around the edge of the staging area, a hoof to his chin as he went from face to face.

Twilight was calling just as loudly as anyone else, even though it wasn't her style. She did very badly want to get closer to the machine, and sitting in it was about as good as it could get. Aside from that, the setting and the situation just felt right, and so she cut loose like everyone else around her.

Gearrick stopped as soon as his gaze fell on her, raising a hoof and calling for silence. He got it begrudgingly as everyone waited to hear who would get to ride in this glorious and mysterious vehicle. "How about you, young lady?" he asked, pointing right at her.

"Me?" Twilight asked, getting that sick feeling as she realized once again that she was singled out. From that sea of faces and overwhelming calls to be picked, had he actually heard her? Her excitement threatened to overwhelm her as it began to sink in that she would get to sit in that machine, and meet first-hoof the stallion she had heard so much about since the start of the festival.

"Yeah, the lady in the purple," he said with a small laugh. After she failed to react for a second or two, he waved at her with a little more urgency. "Come on, it's not going to explode, I promise."

With an elated smile, Twilight hopped the two-foot wall and trotted over. He stood by while she climbed into the seat, and once she was situated he pushed a panel on the side of the door with his hoof, causing it to fall slowly and smoothly into place.

"Alright everyone, I hope to see you all later, but for now clear the way!" he called out, motioning between the Nomad and his booth. "I don't think anyone wants to get run over. I haven't run any tests for that yet, and I don't plan to today!"

Anypony behind the machine promptly cleared out with worried looks on their faces, and those observing them laughed. Gearrick climbed into his own seat across from Twilight, pushing a button on the inside of the door to close it. Before it was even fully shut, Gearrick threw a lever and pushed a button. The seat under Twilight hummed and vibrated as the back of the machine purred to life. She noted that the button was labeled simply as '1', so she assumed from his description that that meant engine one was on.

"Hey," he said, leaning over suddenly so she could hear him over the hammering of the pistons and the chatter of people moving away from the staging area.

"Yes?" she asked, smiling and leaning closer to hear him better also.

"Thanks for what you did earlier; saved the whole presentation. I figure I owe you the ride, but I had to make it look like I wasn't playing favorites. I'm sure you understand," he said with a laugh.

Twilight flushed in embarrassment, realizing that he had intended to pick her from the beginning. She was glad she had spoken up now, if just for the experience of being in the Nomad, and talking to its inventor.

"The name's Gearrick Tinkermane," he said, extending a hoof to her. "I know you probably heard it earlier, but it doesn't mean the same coming from someone else."

"Twilight Sparkle," she replied with a smile of her own, shaking it warmly. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Pleasure's all mine. Good name, it's got a nice ring to it," he said, turning his attention away from her and to a mirror on the side of the Nomad's front end as he threw another lever up to a notch labeled 'R'.

"Alright, hold on," he cautioned. "I'm not completely sure about the gear-ratio in reverse. It could be a little fast, so we'll have to test it," he said, pressing a hoof onto a pedal on the floor, and pushing it all the way down.

"Wait, wha-" Twilight started to ask, but the words left her mouth as the Nomad shot backward, faster than she could run at full tilt. Her eyes went wide as she watched ponies zip past.

Gearrick just whistled a single high note as he kept his eyes on the mirror. "Good thing there's nobody behind us," he said evenly, as if it were no big deal.

"Are you crazy?" Twilight shouted over the rumble of the engine and the wind.

Gearrick just laughed, a smirk coming to his face as he hit the brakes, bringing them slowly into place beside his booth. "Yes. Yes I am."

Long shadows trailed out from their owners like roots as the sun continued to tick through its cycle. Seven o' clock had come and gone not long ago, and ponies were still filtering out and heading home for the evening. Stage two, the demonstration phase of the festival, would take place tomorrow. Many of the hopeful contestants were packing up their inventions and taking them home for the evening, though they would have to return tomorrow.

Twilight was still at Gearrick's booth, and had been since her first ride in the Nomad; anypony's first ride in it, she realized, for Gearrick couldn't have driven it around town before the reveal.

It had been exhilarating. She never would have guessed just how powerful the machine was, or how fast it could go. She had asked all sorts of questions about it, particularly interested in how it could scale cliffs or cross rivers. Nothing was apparent about it that would make such things possible, yet she knew she hadn't misheard.

To each of these questions, and similar ones asked by numerous others who had crowded his booth, Gearrick had only had one answer.

"I already told you, you'll see tomorrow," he said with a light chuckle, deflecting Twilight's latest question. He'd been kind enough to answer any general queries about the machine, but regarding any of its detailed functions, he remained secretive.

"No fair," Twilight grumbled, wishing that she could pout half as convincingly as Rarity.

"Oh come on, don't make that face," he said, turning to wave at somepony who called out to him before leaving his booth. "Let's be honest; if I told you, you wouldn't believe it until you saw it anyways. What's better, to see it yourself and be astounded, or hear about it and be skeptical?" he asked pleasantly, turning his attention back to her for a moment.

Twilight pondered that for a second. She had to admit, she hadn't even believed the thing could actually move at all until she had experienced it. "I suppose you're right," she conceded, her tone full of reluctance. Her curiosity wasn't an easy thing to curb, but when faced with an argument like that she didn't have much choice.

"There, you see?" He painted on a warm smile to match his tone. "Anyways, you sure stuck around late. I can't remember the last time someone was so interested in my work," he said, his words coming over his shoulder as he busied himself with some cleanup duties, taking down the sign on his booth and tossing it in the Nomad's back seat.

"It would be hard not to be interested," Twilight replied with a small smile. "That thing is amazing."

"It definitely is," he said, smiling fondly and patting its bronze exterior. The resulting clinking sound was almost melodic, or so Twilight thought. He turned back to her with that smile still painted on his lips.

"I'm going to venture a guess and say you're not from around here," he said suddenly, the topic change completely out of nowhere.

"What gave you that impression?" Twilight asked, rolling her eyes as if it should have been obvious all along.

"The accent," Gearrick said, pointing to his throat. "Ya don't talk like everyone else 'round here." He threw on a nearly flawless Manehattan accent suddenly, catching her by surprise and causing her to laugh.

"Everyone here talks so fast," Twilight admitted, shaking her head as Pinkie Pie came to mind. "Anyways, I'm just in town to see the festival. I've heard about it ever since I was a filly, back when it first started. But I never got the chance to come and see it until recently."

"A lot of free time on your hooves?" Gearrick asked, wiping off the top of the booth while they conversed. It seemed like he was always busy doing something or fiddling with his goggles, so Twilight got the feeling he was a fairly energetic pony underneath his mellow exterior. Even if he was just talking he would gesture frequently just to keep himself busy.

"Yeah, lately. All of my friends are busy getting ready for the wedding," Twilight said, but her voice trailed off at the end as she realized this pony probably had no idea what she was talking about. She was so used to conversing with her close friends that she rarely had to consider context.

"Wedding huh? Whose wedding, if you don't mind?" he asked pleasantly, kicking one of the legs of the table hard when it refused to fold under, muttering various things under his breath until he finally had the stand completely collapsed. "Piece of junk..."

Twilight did her best not to laugh at his antics. It was as if half the time he fully acknowledged that she was there, and the other half he was somewhere else. Even so, he hadn't missed a word yet, so she went ahead.

"My friend Applejack," she said simply, expecting a big reaction after how her name had been plastered all over newspapers.

"Applejack? Cool name," Gearrick replied idly, turning around and dusting his hooves off by clapping them together as he picked up the table with his magic and loaded it into the Nomad. "How about her fiancé? Is he a decent guy?" he asked, clearly ignorant of the royal wedding.

Twilight had to fight disbelief. What, did he live under a rock? "Yeah, it's actually kind of big news. I'm surprised you haven't heard about it by now."

"What you just said explains everything," he replied with a wry laugh. "I don't follow the news. Anyways, you didn't answer my question."

A pony who didn't read the news. He got stranger by the minute. "Well, she's marrying the changeling king, Aurus Marz. He's a wonderful guy, honestly. The two are perfect for each other, they've been together for years," she said, half expecting him to say he didn't know what changelings were.

"That is big news," he said with honest surprise, eyebrows up high. His face settled in short order though as he coped with the gravity of the statement. "Well what about you? Not helping with the wedding?"

"Not right now. I'm not a dressmaker or anything like that; just a librarian. So unless they need a book on how to have a wedding, I'm just on standby," she said with a small laugh that wasn't completely sincere.

"I get ya," he said, slipping into that lazy, urban style of speaking so common in Manehattan for that short statement. "Well, sounds like as good a time as any to come and see the show. And what a show it's going to be," he said with a strange chuckle.

"What do you mean?" Twilight looked at him strangely, uncomfortable with his mischievous laugh.

"You know that lifting machine?" he asked slyly.

"Yeah, the one right before the lunch break," Twilight replied, knowing exactly the one.

"What would you say if I told you it was going to explode?" he asked suddenly.

Twilight's reaction was shock. Did he do something to tamper with it? "How would you even know that?" she asked, trying to remain skeptical instead of accusatory.

"I was looking over it during the lunch break and talking to its inventor. I pointed out that it has a poor weld in its main pressure tank, and tried to warn the owner. But he just called me a two-bit tinker and told me to mind my own business," he said with a less-than-happy expression.

Twilight's eyes went wide as she realized he wasn't joking. "It really is going to explode?" she asked. "Isn't that dangerous? Somebody could get hurt!"

"Yes, it's very dangerous; especially for him, he'll be standing right next to it. But I tried to warn him, and he told me off. I'm not saying I'm not worried about him, but what else can I be expected to do? I could warn the officials, but they'll just think I'm trying to disqualify him." Gearrick scowled as that thought came to light.

"Why would they think that? This is serious!" Twilight said with a growl.

"It isn't about serious or not; this contest has always been full of sabotage, so they have to be suspicious of my motives. Didn't you notice how everyone takes their machines home, instead of leaving them here? There's no telling what other contestants could tamper with," he said quietly, his tone grave.

"Why would anyone do that? Is the prize really worth that much?" she asked.

"The prize is fifty thousand bits," Gearrick said evenly, his tone firm. "In a city like this, where a steam-tinker's wage doesn't even cover the costs of his own materials, that money is invaluable. I spent every last bit I had just building the Nomad and paying my rent. A lot of ponies would do whatever they had to to get their hooves on it."

Twilight had to process that for a time. Fifty thousand bits was a very large sum of money. Regardless, cheating was so underhooved! How could anypony stoop so low? "Would you?" she asked, her tone carrying some of the disgust she felt with it.

"Hell no," Gearrick said with a scowl. "What good engineer has to ruin someone else's hard work just to make his shine brighter? I play fair, miss Sparkle."

Twilight felt a little taken aback at being called 'miss Sparkle', as if he had purposely refused to use her first name. It conveyed a deeper sense of seriousness and sincerity when he used that level of formality, yet it made her feel uncomfortable.

His expression softened as he watched her tense up. "Just trust me... I'm no cheat."

"I believe you," she said quietly. "I'm sorry I said it."

"Don't be, it's only fair to be cautious. In the end, it really just says a lot about your morals to worry if I'm a cheater," he pointed out. "Anyways, about the lifting machine... It might explode, it might not. I'm no master tinker, just like that other engineer said. But there's nothing I can do about it, and nothing I did to cause it. I'll still let the officials know, though."

Twilight nodded, having to understand that there was little else he could do to prevent it.

"Enough heavy talk, it just grinds the nerves," he said with a laugh to dispel the mood. "You hungry?" he asked suddenly.

Having skipped the lunch break, Twilight couldn't have lied if she wanted to as her stomach growled. She blushed deeply, putting a hoof to her stomach and forcing it to be quiet.

Gearrick just laughed, walking past her and climbing into the driver's seat of the Nomad. "I'll take that as a yes. I was going to swing by Old Jack's and show the codger where all his whiskey's been going to. Care to come along?" He patted the passenger's seat next to him with a friendly smile. "It's not quite eight yet, so we should be able to get there before the stalls take up the road too much to drive."

Twilight didn't know what to make of the invitation, but her stomach did. Belly rumbling once again, her train of thought became significantly shorter than usual. He was a nice enough guy, just being friendly. What harm could there be in riding along? Good enough for her, at this point. Without too much more deliberation, she climbed into the passenger seat, pushing the button on her door to shut it.

Throwing the starting lever and pushing the button for engine one, Gearrick put his typical smirk into place. He pushed another button and the headlights came on, illuminating the space ahead. All the way across from them the square was completely empty; nearly three blocks of open road.

"Gearrick..." Twilight began, her voice nervous.

Gearrick put his goggles up, smirk still active. "Relax, I have the gear-ratio for forward motion memorized for engine one."

"Oh thank Celestia," Twilight sighed in relief.

"It's much faster than in reverse," he said with a sudden laugh, stomping on the pedal.

Twilight's breath caught as the Nomad rocketed forward, pressing her into the seat tightly.

And all the while her madpony of a driver laughed and hollered.

III: A Night in the Fog

Twilight hopped out of her seat as soon as the door was up and out of her way. Her eyes were wide and her mane was swept back from the rush of wind. Gearrick had hardly slowed until they'd reached more populated areas of Main Street, and the Nomad's mad rush across the open road had left her breathless from a combination of shock and thrill.

Gearrick stepped out onto the cobblestones as well, almost fully obscured by the Nomad's tall frame. He trotted around the front of the metal monster, peering into the grate in the front before coming around her side of the vehicle with his trademark smirk still intact.

"Did you have to do that without warning me?" Twilight asked, regaining her composure and using her magic to smooth her mane back out.

"Probably not. But this is the first time I've been able to take this thing out for a spin. I wanted to see what it could do, especially with the demonstration phase starting first thing tomorrow morning. Seems like she's working beautifully though, doesn't it?" he asked with a small laugh as Twilight's expression shifted into one of surrender. It wasn't a point worth arguing; not against a crazy pony.

"Well, the next time you decide to 'test' something, at least give your passenger a couple of seconds to get ready," she muttered.

"Fair enough," Gearrick conceded, turning as the rattle of small wheels over cobblestone cracks met his ears. He'd been careful to park near where Old Jack usually propped his stand for the night, and sure enough out came the elderly earth pony, dragging his massive, mobile stall behind him. "And here comes our dinner now," the tinker said with a small smile, trotting in the old pony's direction.

"Evenin', Jack," Gearrick called pleasantly.

"Evenin' nothin'!" Jack groaned, tugging on the rope behind him that was attached to his cart. "Ya told me these wheels would stay oiled fer at least three months! I can't hardly budge the sucker anymore," he griped, dropping the rope and fixing Gearrick with a scowl that only forced his massive eyebrows an inch lower.

"Yeah, and I said that six months ago," Gearrick reminded him. "I'll get them tuned up again before I head out tonight, but I can't stay too late. I've got a lot to do."

"A lot to do, eh?" the old codger asked with a sly grin, looking past Gearrick to Twilight, who was keeping her distance from the friendly conversation the two stallions were having. She was leaning into the Nomad and reading all of the buttons and levers on the dashboard. "Taking advantage of the festival crowd, are we?"

"Nothing like that," Gearrick said with a scowl. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Jack."

"Sure, just as soon as you get my cart out of it," he chuckled, trotting past Gearrick to get a better look at the Nomad, which he was just now noticing. "This the contraption?"

"Yeah, that's the one," Gearrick said with a roll of his eyes, walking over to Jack's stall. With a hefty tug of his magic he managed to get the thing rolling again, pulling it to the center of the street.

"Damned good work, kid. Smoothest lookin' machine I've seen since this steamtech business all started. What's she do?"

"A little of everything," Gearrick huffed, finally getting the cart into place. He slowly turned the crank on the side of Jack's establishment, watching with satisfaction as the simple mechanisms did their work, expanding the bar, unfolding the awning, and raising up the numerous stoves and frying vats which hadn't been warmed up yet. "I built her for travel, though. I figure, with things going the way they are with the Gearbox Guild, even if they turn me down I can still use this baby to get out of town. Maybe try my luck in Fillydelphia."

Old Jack was nodding, poking around the machine. Gearrick noticed that one of the foldouts on the cart wasn't unwinding like it should have. Double checking to make sure the old stallion wasn't looking, he gave it a swift kick with one of his back hooves, causing the spring-loaded section to pop into place suddenly, and loudly.

"You better not be hurtin' my cart!" Jack called from the far side of the Nomad, bringing a smile to Gearrick's face.

"It's my cart, last I checked! I do all the maintenance," he shot back, making his way back over to the Nomad. "I can't get away with anything," he muttered with a good-natured sigh.

"Excuse me," he called gently, giving Twilight a quick poke on the shoulder. When she didn't react the first time, he cleared his throat loudly. "Everything alright, miss Sparkle?"

She whirled around suddenly, her face flushed with embarrassment. "O-oh, sorry. I guess I got a little carried away; there are just so many buttons and levers. Figuring out how it all works could take days!" she said, recovering her speech as her excitement overpowered her sheepish reaction.

"Well, depending on how long you're in town, you just might have the time to learn them all," he said with a small laugh, edging past her as she moved away from the door. He fished around in the back seat, pulling a red toolbox out with his magic. "Worst case you can always come back to town and find out."

"You mean it?" she asked, surprised that he would invite her back to examine the Nomad so readily, especially considering that this invention was his pride and joy.

"Yeah, why not? Anyways, stall's all set up. And if Jack knows what's good for him, food should be started soon!" Gearrick said, shouting the last part to get the old stallion's attention.

"Ya don't have to yell, I ain't that old!" Jack retaliated, coming around the hind-end of the Nomad and making for his establishment.

"Old or not, I am that hungry. Considering I'm fixing your stall for free, again, the least you can do is make me some food," Gearrick said with a sly smile.

"Yeah yeah, I'm goin'," Jack harrumphed, moving around to the back of his stall. A short while later the sound of a flint lighter and the whoosh of a fire being lit sounded from within, muffled by the red velvet curtain.

Twilight shared a laugh with Gearrick, both well-pleased with the back-and-forth sense of humor.

"Well, why don't you go ahead and take a seat? I need to tune up some of the stall's mechanisms, and then I'll join you for a bite," Gearrick said, wandering off to the stall and not really waiting for her answer.

Still smiling as the good mood lingered on her lips, Twilight made her way inside behind Gearrick.

The tinker was hard at work on the wheels at the far end of the stall, greasing them up with a little oil can and occasionally lifting the stall a few inches with his magic to twist a wheel with his hoof before setting it back down gently. Now and then he would fish around in his toolbox for something before going back to work on the stall's various moving parts.

"Does he always fix the stand for you?" Twilight asked Jack, thinking it best to leave Gearrick to his work. Even though the task was small his brow was creased with concentration, a sure sign that he was better left alone for now.

"Well he didn't used to. Back in the day I had a good ol' fashioned 'sticks and stones' stall. All that means is ya had to take her all the way apart and put her all the way together each night. Between setup and teardown, it cost me 'bout an hour of solid business day to day. Gearrick was still new to town in those days," he said, setting down a glass he was washing.

A few more patrons walked in, obscuring the tinker from view. Jack had to break off his chat with Twilight for a short time to greet them. He made it a point to usher them to the seats furthest from Gearrick while he worked, though the busy unicorn never seemed to notice the extra people anyways.

"So what happened then?" Twilight asked when Jack finally had the time to come back to her. She sipped on her glass of wine idly, having once more been coaxed into drinking.

"Well, Gearrick wouldn't let up 'bout how my stall had the best food in town, and so he was always comin' back. One night it was jus' him and me sittin' up late and talkin'. I lost track of time, and figured I might as well just leave the stall up for the night. It makes some of the store owners in the early hours upset, but it doesn't do any real harm. When I said I was turnin' in without closin' up, he offered to take her down for me. Claimed he was gonna be up all night anyways. I didn't figure he'd do any damage the local punks wouldn't if I left it out all night, so I let him have his way. All he asked for was a bottle of whiskey in return," he finished, chuckling fondly at the memory.

"Next evenin' I came to get to work, found it like this. It was still in the street, all set up, and there he was, splayed across the bar and about as awake as a stone, empty whiskey bottle in one hoof, wrench in another. He turned this ol' thing into the best stall on the street in jus' one night," the old man said, picking up another glass and washing it out. "I tried thankin' him once, but he wouldn't have it. He keeps it workin' the way it does all on his own, out of the goodness of his heart. I figure he thinks it's his job, since he's the one who built it."

Twilight smiled as she caught sight of Gearrick through the shifting bodies of the other patrons. The story was oddly touching, despite its simplicity. Gearrick had gone out of his way to do the old man a favor he never would have asked for otherwise. "He sounds like a good guy," Twilight put in idly, taking the last sip of her wine.

"He is at that," Jack agreed, immediately pouring her a refill. "I jus' wish I had some way to repay him. He won't take free meals for his trouble. Won't take nothin' since that first bottle of whiskey. He's the sort of fella ya only pay once in yer life; I don't think he believes in owin' or bein' owed," Jack finished quietly, turning from her to handle a few of the other requests coming in from down the bar.

That gave Twilight some time to think as she sipped on her second glass. She hadn't gotten anything to eat yet, thinking to wait for Gearrick. It seemed that those around him were full of stories about him, yet he hadn't said much to her about himself. He was too busy talking about whatever came to light moment to moment, or about what he loved.

She wanted to know more about him, and it surprised her to find out that she was more interested in this inventor than his invention. The Nomad was amazing, but it didn't have a history. What little it did have it shared with Gearrick, and everything about him was strange and new to Twilight. He was unlike anypony she had ever met before, and so she quietly resolved to wait, hoping to learn more about him over their dinner together.

A resounding clang and muffled curse rang out from the far end of the bar, causing Twilight to have to repress a giggle. Jack came back, the motion of his mammoth eyebrows suggesting that he was rolling his eyes.

"He broke the damn foldout clean off," Jack muttered to Twilight, leaning on the bar tiredly. "Maybe he ain't worth payin' anyways."

Gearrick had a bottle of whiskey waiting at his seat before he had finished packing up his tools, along with a plate that matched Twilight's in the spot next to his. He had a smile in place even as he slid into his chair, which pleased Twilight.

"Thanks Jack," he said, already twisting the cap off the bottle of whiskey.

"Don't thank me, kid," Jack said with a laugh. "After what ya did to that foldout, I wasn't even gonna feed ya. Ya can thank the lady here, she's the one who insisted I dish ya a plate."

"Hey now, I fixed it," Gearrick countered, taking a deep pull from the whiskey bottle and pointedly ignoring Jack as he walked away.

He never saw Twilight flush red as Jack smiled at her over his shoulder. She hadn't done any such thing! Why would he say it was her idea?

"Thanks, miss Sparkle," he finally said at length, giving her a warm smile.

"Please stop calling me that," Twilight pleaded, picking up her fork with her magic, cheeks still holding a slightly pink tint. "I'm not a school-teacher."

"But you are a librarian," he pointed out with a chuckle, stabbing his own kitchenware into a patch of noodles and twirling it around. "Anyways, your first name is Twilight, right? I didn't mean anything by it, I was just trying to be polite."

"That's right. Anyways, don't worry about polite. I've got a few friends who've never even heard the word," she chuckled, Rainbow Dash coming quickly to mind.

"If you say so," he replied ironically, his mouth already full of food.

Twilight resisted the urge to giggle, glad to see the formality so readily disappearing. Sure he was a stranger, but the two of them seemed to get along well enough already. "So, 'mister Tinkermane', I've heard a lot about your invention, but nothing about you," she said casually, chewing on some food of her own.

"Well, there's not much to tell, honestly. What did you want to know?" he asked, setting aside his fork and fixing her with a curious expression.

"Well for starters, why did you come to Manehattan?" Twilight asked, continuing her meal despite the fact that he had halted his.

His response was a simple, breathy laugh and a semi-sad smile. "It's always kind of been my dream to work in a city like this. Ever since I was little steamtech has fascinated me. Manehattan is more or less the birthplace of technology, so when I was finally old enough to venture out on my own, I just had to see it with my own eyes. At first I came for the same reason you did. To see the festival," he said, his sad smile turning into a more real and happy one.

"But after spending a week here, I realized I loved this place. My parents were always very understanding ponies, and so when I wrote home saying I wanted to stay and try and make a living here, they just wished me the best. I always used to tinker, even before moving here. I took apart countless things, and pissed off countless ponies when I didn't quite put them back together," he said with a laugh.

Twilight laughed as well, nodding. His story made sense, and it sounded like a great time; following his dream, doing whatever he wanted as it came to him. He took a short break and resumed his meal while Twilight thought up a new question.

"I heard a rumor about you today at the festival," she began cautiously, realizing that this might be a touchy subject.

"Judging by your tone, I have to assume you mean the thing with the steamtech guild," Gearrick said idly, his voice neither positive or negative.

Twilight just nodded, sipping on her wine.

"That's a long story I wouldn't want to bore you with," he said with a chuckle, and she could tell that he was only being halfway sincere. He wanted to evade the question, which only made her want to ask it more.

What was it that could make such an outwardly stable pony so uncomfortable? Part of Twilight's nature was simply being nosy, but part of her wanted to hear in order to better understand him, and maybe help him. Something about him made her stomach feel funny, but in a good way. Just talking to him was strangely exhilarating, and it wasn't just that he was mysterious.

"Why not just tell me?" Twilight asked, trying to keep her tone pleasant. "It seems like most ponies know about it anyways."

She had the misfortune of seeing his smirk vanish on the wings of a hefty sigh. "You're right; everypony knows about it," he said quietly. "Not exactly the name I was trying to make for myself, but that's just life." He finally managed a laugh at himself, dispelling some of his own bad mood and bringing the smile back. "It's not worth being upset about anymore. And you're right... everypony already knows the story."

"So you'll tell me?" she asked, smiling hopefully.

"Sure. It'll be nice to tell someone my side of it for once," he said with a bittersweet smile. "Normally the guild beats me to it. But we can deal with that after dinner." He let out a warm laugh, digging back into his plate. "I'm sure you've got some stories to tell, too."

Twilight smiled, glad that he had agreed to tell her. She could understand if it was something he'd want to talk about in private, especially after what little she had heard. She could feel the excitement rising with the promise of even more secrets being revealed.

Finishing her second glass, she nodded, and began recounting some of her many adventures as the two of them finished their meals together, the good mood returning.

Twilight watched in shock as Gearrick produced far more bits than necessary for his own meal and bottle of whiskey, and all the while Jack smiled knowingly.

"Hers too?" he asked.

"Hers too," Gearrick replied evenly. "And a bottle of wine."

"Gearrick, you don't have to-" Twilight began, but Jack swiped up the bits before she could finish.

"Lady, after he's had a bit to drink he ain't worth arguin' with," Jack said with a chuckle. "And jus' look at the bottle: he's had plenty." The old pony wandered off to deposit the money and grab a bottle of wine for Twilight.

"And I plan to drink the rest of it!" Gearrick called after him, causing Twilight to chuckle. He didn't seem to be too drunk, but it was obvious he had loosened up significantly. All the energy that he usually kept hidden was now bleeding through, which Twilight enjoyed.

"Thanks, Gearrick," Twilight said with a small smile. She wasn't unaccustomed to generosity, but having her dinner bought by somepony she had just met seemed a little odd.

"Don't mention it," he said with a warm smile. "I've still got a bit or two leftover from the last contest, and even if I don't place in this one I should be good for the next couple weeks."

"Not place?" Twilight asked, honestly unable to comprehend how that could be possible. "The Nomad's amazing, you'll sweep the contest easily," she insisted, the alcohol in her own system making her just a little more bold with her brain-mouth filter.

"Well you never know," Gearrick said, whirling the closed whiskey bottle through a quick flip before catching it deftly again by the handle. "She could break down during stage three, or someone could try and run me out of the competition in the finals. Happens all the time," he said with small smile, as if it weren't a big deal.

He fixed his eyes squarely on hers for his next words, to better convey his gratitude. "Still, thanks for the vote of confidence. It means a lot, Twilight."

Slightly drunk and easily lost in those hazel eyes, it took Twilight a few moments to respond. "D-don't mention it," she replied hastily, mimicking his earlier deflection.

He didn't seem to notice her stammering, and just laughed at the irony of the situation as she fed him the same phrase he had used. "Alright then, if you insist. Anyways, I think I promised you a story, and I'm a stallion of my word," he said, smirking. "Hey Jack, are we square?" he asked loudly, the two of them the last ponies at the bar besides the proprietor.

"More than that, ya paid too much," Jack said idly, flicking three bits up and down deftly, the coins clinking together as they landed.

"Ah, keep 'em," Gearrick grumbled, pushing himself up from his seat. "It's just three bits."

"Suit yerself," the old pony chuckled, depositing them in a safebox, which he took with him each night. "Have a good night, you two!"

Twilight extracted herself from the bar as well, smiling at the bushy-browed pony. "You too Jack. I expect at least one of us will be back for dinner tomorrow night," she laughed. With one final wave, she followed Gearrick outside, marveling at how much warmer it had been inside the curtain.

Gearrick was walking ahead of her a few yards, carrying her wine bottle and his own half-empty whiskey container. He very unceremoniously dumped them both into the back seat, then took up a place standing by her door.

Flushing as she realized he was waiting to get the door for her, she quick-stepped the rest of the way, hopping up into her seat. With a short laugh to himself and a barely noticeable shake of his head, Gearrick pushed the button that lowered her door into place before circling around to his own seat.

"What?" she asked as he moved around the front of the Nomad.

"Nothing," he said with a telltale smile. "Just think it's funny that you hurried on my account. I wasn't going anywhere without you either way," he pointed out, shutting his own door and revving up engine one.

She allowed herself a laugh as well, quietly thinking how strange he was. He'd go out of his way on anypony's account, then question it when anypony did the same for him.

"Now then, the Gearbox Guild always insists you shouldn't operate machinery after drinking... Just one of their many rules I don't like to follow," he chuckled, stepping on the accelerator gently.

Twilight braced herself for the worst, but was pleasantly surprised to find Gearrick taking it more slowly through the quiet and narrow side-streets.

"So where are we going?" Twilight asked pleasantly, not really concerned with the destination so much as curious. She smiled to herself as she watched streetlamps zip past, along with a few wayward midnight travelers on the sidewalks.

"My place," he said with a shrug. He chuckled to himself like he'd already done several times that evening and shook his head. "This must look terrible," he muttered under his breath.

"What was that?" Twilight asked, leaning closer to hear him better.

"Heh, nothing," he said, waving her question way. "Just talking to myself."

Hardly satisfied with his answer, but content just to experience the pleasant evening air and the drive, she performed a once in a lifetime feat and put it to the back of her mind.

A few twists and turns later put them on a street that ran along the Manehattan River. Bright lights dotted the bank far ahead where the power plant ran full-tilt, even at this late hour. Streetlamps lined the sidewalk along the bank, benches spaced every so often along the way. The cloud of steam that always housed the city gave way over the cool river, and so the moonlight filtered through, glistening in the subtle ripples and small waves of the steady flow. The myriad lights of skyscrapers and countless riverside bars lit the waters as well. It was a stream of lights, beautiful and entrancing.

Twilight silently marveled at it, staring until it suddenly vanished from view as Gearrick pulled around a corner. Startled by its rapid disappearance, she was drawn unwillingly back into reality as they came to a gentle stop in the back of a small warehouse. Gearrick left the Nomad running as he hopped out, unlocking some chains binding the barn-style doors and throwing them wide. That done, he hopped back in the pilot seat and pulled the Nomad inside, the vehicle just barely squeezing through the wide door frame.

Once he had it in the middle of the warehouse, he turned the lights off and parked it once more, powering it down and clambering out of the machine. "Grab the drinks, would you?" he asked pleasantly, wandering away before Twilight had even located her door-opening button.

Once she finally had it open she did as he asked, picking up the two bottles with her magic and looking around for him in the dark. Some lights flickered to life overhead, the one directly above her staying steady while a few others struggled to remain lit. One finally went out on the far end of the warehouse, the one closest to the river.

All along the runway of light were various strange objects, covered in dusty sheets that looked like they hadn't been touched in ages. A workbench rested against the wall only a few yards from where the Nomad was parked, tools scattered all over it, along with various pieces of paper, some oil-stained and others covered in completely incoherent writing and sketches.

Next to the bench stood Gearrick, hoof on a switch on the wall, scowl in place as he glared at the light on the far end. "Piece of junk..." he muttered, letting go of the switch.

"Are all of those your machines?" Twilight asked as she trotted over, pointing to the canvas-covered things.

"Not exactly; that's all scrap material left behind by the printing company who used to own the warehouse. Some of it's useful, especially the gears in the presses, but most of it's wood or paper. Paper's useful too I guess, saves me money," he chuckled, pointing to a few newspapers that had obviously been used to clean up some kind of grease spill.

Twilight looked around, a confused expression on her face. "You live here?" she asked, noting a distinct lack of furniture.

"Well not down here," he said with a laugh. "The company offices used to be above here, so that's where I keep my bed and stuff like that," he said with a small smile. "And that's where we'll be drinking. Come on," he said, making his way over to a staircase behind the light switch.

Twilight followed along, silently admitting that she found the dusty old warehouse a little less than impressive. She couldn't honestly expect him to clean the entire thing on his own, especially if he only used a small portion of it. Still, the spider web underneath the second flight of stairs didn't bode well for what was to come, she mused.

Two flights of stairs later and she was pleasantly surprised to be proven wrong. The upstairs was a single long hallway with various rooms branching off, presumably the offices. Each door was open, and each of these rooms was tidy and well-dusted, and the floor of the hallway seemed recently swept. Satisfied that he at least kept where he lived clean, she followed as he made his way to the door at the far end.

"Welcome to my humble home," he chuckled, throwing the door open and ushering her in.

She dropped the bottles on a table in surprise, unable to contain herself as she wandered to the far side. All along the ceiling were various metal pieces of art; not machines, just conglomerations of mechanical parts forming everything from birds to miniature versions of machines not yet built. Colored pieces of glass hung in little bundles, sprinkling hundreds of hues about and jingling against one another in the breeze from a draft somewhere.

She stopped at the bank of windows that overlooked the street and the river beyond, where the sea of lights greeted her again. She turned back to face Gearrick, who was smiling sheepishly due to the expression on her face.

"I know it's not much..." he said quietly, closing the door behind him.

"Are you kidding?" she asked suddenly, reaching up and poking one of the glass nests with her hoof, causing the specks of light to dance and the shards of glass to produce a melodic sound. "It's amazing! And the view is just..." she stopped, unable to think of what to say as she looked over her shoulder to the river again.

"This room was the executive office for the printing company," he explained, relieved that she wasn't disgusted by his plain standard of living. "They took all the furniture along, but they couldn't take the view. I get to keep that," he chuckled.

"You're one lucky pony," Twilight admitted, sharing his laugh. "Isn't riverside property expensive?" she asked, walking closer to him to talk more easily.

"It is if you own it, but I'm just renting. And the view might be nice, but Manehattan was built on the river back in its beginning. That means the buildings closest to it are the oldest, in case you didn't notice," he chuckled, pointing to the condition of the creaky flooring and dingy windows. "The company's old CEO still owns the mortgage to this place, so he has to pay it off somehow; between being so run-down and him being desperate for help with the mortgage, I get a good deal on my lease," he explained, trotting past her and standing at the window. A soft smile played at his lips as he looked out at the river, bringing one to Twilight's face as well.

"Did you make all these?" she asked, poking the glass thing again and causing it to chime. He didn't have to look at her to know what she was referring to, thanks to the sound, so his gaze stayed fixed on the river.

"Yeah, it gives me something to do in my spare time. I can't always be working on my inventions, I'd go crazy. Sometimes it's nice to make something just for the sake of making something, and not have to worry if it works or not," he explained.

"You say it like you aren't crazy already," Twilight risked a joke, feeling she had a decent grasp on his sense of humor by now.

He laughed at that, and she shared in his mirth, glad he wasn't offended. "So they say," he added at the end, turning to smile at her. "Though I'm inclined to agree."

Twilight smiled back, feeling a strange flutter in her stomach as their eyes met for a short while, no words spoken.

"Well, no sense standing. The couch is new, at least, so no need to worry it will fall apart on you," he said with a chuckle, gesturing to a simple brown cloth-and-cushion sofa that was against a wall, clearly seldom-used. "Actually..." he mused, drawing the word out as his horn lit up. The couch followed suit, ringed in a copper-colored magical halo as it floated over to the window. Gearrick spun it around until it was facing the window that overlooked the river, nodding in satisfaction.

Twilight smiled as she snatched the liquor bottles back up, trotting over to the couch. It was a three-seater, so she took one of the ends, sighing as she sank into the comfortable cushioning.

Gearrick just smiled and shook his head as he took the end-seat opposite her, hind legs stretched out in front of him, one foreleg draped over the back. He tilted his head back and sighed in comfort as he mirrored her reaction to the plush seating.

She giggled, tossing his whiskey bottle his way, watching it bounce and roll from the center seat right into his side.

"Thanks," he sighed, his eyes still closed as his magic unscrewed the cap and brought the bottle to his lips. He let out a grunt of satisfaction through his nose as the whiskey burned his throat, head still leaned back.

She smiled, uncorking the wine bottle. Her sense of etiquette encouraged her to ask for a glass, but something about the setting and her company insisted otherwise. After the lecture she'd given him earlier on formality, she figured she was better off following his example. She took a long swig from the bottle, gasping at the end as the heftier-than-normal pull from the bottle tickled her throat.

Gearrick opened his eyes at the sound, seeing her drinking out of the bottle, face flushed from a large pull of liquor. He fixed her with a mischievous smile, jingling his own bottle. "So the lady can drink," he teased.

"Yes she can," Twilight huffed, taking a more liberal sip from the wine bottle and turning her nose up, something she would expect Rarity to do in such a situation.

Gearrick just laughed. "Well, how about a quick trade?" he asked, capping his whiskey bottle suddenly, and throwing it her way with his front hooves.

Startled, Twilight barely caught it with her magic. She'd never had whiskey before, hadn't even heard stories about it. Applejack drank it sometimes, but if the diligent farm pony ever drank she usually wasn't in a talking mood. Her lack of knowledge on the subject manifested in hesitation as she dropped the bottle into her hooves, turning it over and over.

"Too strong for you?" Gearrick asked, yanking the bottle of wine out of her magical aura and pulling it over with his own.

"I've never had it before," she clarified. "What's it like?" she asked, still looking at the bottle.

"Well, there's a first time for everything. Try it and find out, my explanation wouldn't do it justice... or encourage you to drink it, probably," he chuckled.

Too drunk to argue it any further, Twilight unscrewed the cap and put it to her lips.

"Cheers," Gearrick called, following suit with the wine bottle. "Mmm, not bad," he admitted, pulling the wine bottle away.

Meanwhile Twilight gasped and coughed, screwing the cap back on the whiskey bottle.

Gearrick just laughed. "I thought you'd say that. It's an acquired taste," he admitted, gratefully accepting his whiskey bottle back as she yanked the wine away from him, taking a sip of it to get the taste out of her mouth.

"You could have warned me! How can you drink that stuff?" Twilight asked, scrunching up her nose.

"Well, practice mostly," he chuckled.

"Well, you can keep it to yourself," she muttered. "Anyways, what about your story?" she asked, her tone going more tender. "I understand if you don't want to tell it."

"No, it's fine," he said with a smile, clearly no longer as uptight about it as he had been at dinner. "Remember how I said I came to town for the festival?" he asked.

Twilight nodded, unconsciously pulling her hooves up onto the center seat, laying down on her back and getting more comfortable as she faced him.

"Well, I had intended to enter that year. It's an open event, and anypony can compete, though traditionally only self-employed tinkers or those working for the guild have the time or money to enter. Anyways, I missed the deadline that year, so I had to content myself with watching." He sighed, recalling the disappointment of missing his entry.

"I've always tinkered, ever since I was little. But there's a big problem with my tinkering," he said sheepishly. "I have no license."

Twilight eyed him curiously, aborting her most recent sip of wine, bottle halfway to her mouth.

"I went to school for steam-tech specialization," he explained. "But before I was ever given my final examination I made a... mistake," he said, putting a hoof to his jawline and rubbing one of the scars there. "I got ahead of myself, tried to take on a task bigger than I should have."

"I was wondering about those... they're identical. What happened?" Twilight asked quietly, wine sloshing in the bottle as it tipped up and down again.

"A train made an emergency stop in my home town, Tackton. The engine was leaking steam, and needed repairs. I'd never worked on something so large, but I thought I could handle it, thought I knew all the safety procedures for welding a steam-tank like the one on the train. But a textbook's no teacher, and reality is harsher than words," he said with a chuckle.

"Since it had just stopped in town, the heat was still enough to keep a little pressure in the tank. I could see a little steam leaking out of the broken weld, and I knew enough about pressure ratios to know it was harmless. I didn't throw the release valve, thinking I could get them back on the rails without running the pressure down. So I got to work," he sighed. "But, funny thing about welding, it generates heat.

As soon as I completed the weld, the heat from my torch had raised the pressure enough that the molten metal couldn't hold it. With the hole closed up, the pressure went the path of least resistance, which was straight out the new weld and into my face," he said sadly. "Burned like hell. I'm lucky I had my goggles on, or I would have lost my eyes. At it stands, I'm lucky these two small scars are all I have to show for it. The reason they're symmetrical, or almost, is that the weld split at the ends, so I got hit with two streams of steam," he explained.

"But that's the least of the damage I took. Once I got out of the hospital, my professors were furious. I should have contacted them, or at least a senior student. I was only twelve at the time, and I had no business messing with live steamtech outside the labs. I was expelled on the spot, and no other school would take me," he finished evenly.

"Gearrick, that's terrible!" Twilight gasped, trying to think of something she could say.

"Well, it's not so bad," he admitted. "After a year of searching, I was finally apprenticed by a pony named Brass Tacks. She was a magnificent tinker, and just like me, she never completed her formal training, though unlike me she had left of her own free will. She was sympathetic, and knew that my passion could more than make up for my lack of booksmarts. Creativity and innovation were just as essential as a good schematic, she often said. I couldn't help but agree with her. I had never done well in drafting classes, had always half-assed anything I didn't find interesting.

But under her hooves-on training I learned more in her care than I could have at any school. Even though I consider that training to be far superior to that of a technical university, not everypony shares that view..." he muttered.

"The guild?" Twilight asked.

Gearrick nodded, taking a long pull of whiskey in the same go. "The Gearbox Guild, the largest steamtech guild in the known world. They have over one hundred and twenty members, all of them top of their class from various universities. My opinion?" he asked, waiting for her to signal she gave half a care. Once she nodded, he continued.

"They're all a bunch of stuck up, spoiled bastards!" he vented, shaking the re-capped whiskey bottle violently in the air.

Twilight just chuckled, and she was glad when Gearrick joined her for a laugh.

"Anyways, after the contest I got a chance to meet the winner, and the head of the Gearbox Guild as well. I tried to show him my invention, explain it. But he just laughed, even called in some of his friends to 'join in the fun' as I did my best to explain my mechanical wings. When I explained that I had trained under Brass Tacks instead of earning a formal degree, they wrote me off. The current head of the guild went to school with her, and apparently never let her live it down when she dropped out.

Half of it was just his 'holier than thou art' sense of pride, and half of it was honest disbelief. It was a far-fetched idea, but besides that who would believe a pony trained by a dropout? I was less than the lowest tinker to them," he said quietly, his gaze faraway as he looked out the window.

"But when the time came, you flew, right?" Twilight asked, trying to lift his spirits. "That's the rumor I heard. Not that you failed, but that you flew, even though they said you couldn't," she said warmly, setting aside her quarter-gone wine bottle.

He turned his gaze to her, his smile warm with gratitude. "That's right. I flew, and they all watched as I ruled the sky and they crawled in the mud. I so badly wanted to rub their faces in it," he said with a sigh. "I know that must sound terrible."

"After how they treated you?" Twilight asked in disbelief. "I don't think its terrible at all, to want to prove yourself."

"Thanks, Twilight," he said fondly, patting one of her back hooves in appreciation.

She smiled sheepishly, unsure what to make of the contact. "Don't mention it. That's what friends are for."

"Friends, huh?" he asked, looking into the opening in his whiskey bottle. "You know, I never had very many."

Twilight just smiled and screwed the cap back onto his whiskey bottle, drawing his attention back to her friendly grin. "There's a first time for everything."

Twilight waved as Gearrick sped off in the Nomad, the sound of its engine fading quickly down the dimly lit street. He was out of sight soon enough, leaving her to wander through the revolving door of her hotel and up to her room.

She plopped down on the bed, her buzzed mind willing her eyelids heavier and suggesting that perhaps it was time for sleep. Despite the strength of that urge, her mind was too busy thinking and reflecting on the day's events to heed it.

The festival had been wonderful, and she could easily recall the thrill of seeing the Nomad for the first time, the confusion and intrigue surrounding Gearrick. She could almost relive the quickening of her pulse as he had picked her out of the crowd, and the simple enjoyment she felt just holding conversation after conversation about the invention.

Beyond that it had been a good night, the two of them sharing small stories over dinner. Twilight had done most of the talking then, finding a ready and attentive listener in Gearrick. He had laughed warmly and often at the antics of her friends, and she had trouble containing her own giggles anytime he explained some funny portion of his own history.

She recalled the upsetting tale he had told her, silently marveling at his resilience. Even in an environment like this, full of such ridicule, he maintained a drive to prove them all wrong. He should have run long ago, found opportunity somewhere else, yet he stayed. Even that bittersweet tale had been a beautiful part of her evening; a glimpse into his life, just as she had wanted.

She realized that she liked Gearrick's company, but in a way far different from the company of others. Even knowing she would see him again the next day, his departure had set off a twinge in her heart for a split second. He had such a warm sense of humor, such an infectious laugh. His smirk filled the world behind her closed eyes.

She checked the clock, sighing as she noticed that a half-hour had already gone by due to her failed sleep attempt. She realized suddenly that this was strange: she'd never been kept awake by thoughts of this nature before. Her midnight heart-to-heart with Applejack came to mind for the first time in weeks. She'd put thoughts of stallions to the back of her mind after that, trying her best just to move past it. Yet here she was, head full of Gearrick Tinkermane, and she had trouble believing that the talk with AJ and the recently-met inventor weren't related.

She thought on that for some time, reflecting on the heartfelt talk, and on how her evening with Gearrick had been. She'd never had feelings for anypony before, didn't even know which feelings were the 'feelings' in question. She didn't know what it took for a mare to date a stallion, or for him to find her attractive.

But she did know one thing: she liked being around Gearrick. He was intriguing, clever, and funny. Despite the scars on his jaw, she couldn't help but blush as she realized she found him handsome. She wouldn't call it love by a long stretch, but she could say with confidence that she found him interesting, in more ways than one.

It didn't make sense, and she didn't want it to. Thinking about him made her heart speed up, and she was excited to see him again, to learn more about him. She remembered Applejack's words, and smiled as she found them to fit this situation almost perfectly.

"It's jus' about actin' on yer feelings. When yer heart says jump, an' someday it will, ya jus' have t' trust it t' know best."

It wasn't jumping time quite yet, she knew. Even so, she couldn't deny that her heart was full of feelings; strange and unfamiliar ones. Good ones.

She let the thoughts come as they did and stopped analyzing them as they slowly became dreams, ushering her into slumber.

Gearrick walked silently through the warehouse, one much larger than the run-down shack he was renting. A workbench with top-of-the-line tools sat nearby, but he didn't let his attention linger on them. He wasn't here to gawk over a toolbox mightier than his own.

He had work to do.

Picking the lock had been simple enough for a stallion familiar with the inner workings of innumerable machines. A few twists and turns with a flat-head screwdriver and a paper-clip was all he needed.

He sighed as he looked at the canvas covered device before him. He knew that he shouldn't be here, that he should leave. Being caught here would disqualify him at the very least, and they might even arrest him for trespassing.

He shook his head, his face determined. The look of panic on that young lady's face when he had said that it might explode, and the possibility that it might cause somepony harm, was worth risking the competition for in a heartbeat. He pulled the sheet off the lifting machine silently, lighting his horn and poring over it until he found the offending weld he had spotted earlier. Examining it more closely, he realized that it would most certainly give under the steam pressure it was designed to contain; there was no chance in hell the machine would survive the contest as it was.

"Sorry, old man..." he muttered quietly, pulling a welding torch out of his backpack with his magic. He shifted his work goggles into place, sighing in resignation. It was something he had to do. He would never forgive himself if the tinker who designed this machine was hospitalized, or worse killed... not after knowing what he knew.

"You might think I'm inexperienced. You might think I'm too young or too stupid. You might be too proud to listen to me," he whispered, lighting the torch. It flared brightly, reflected in his red-tinted goggles, casting stark shadows all around him.

"But I'm not proud enough to watch you get hurt."

IV: The Nature of Things

Gearrick made his way through the revolving door of the hotel, checking the clock over the check-in desk with a yawn. Seven in the morning was well outside his usual operating hours, but this was a special case. He'd already been up all night, so he figured he might as well do something to keep himself occupied before the festival started up for the day.

Making his way to the check-in, he mentally prepared himself as the pony behind the desk fixed him with a way-too-chipper smile.

Uh oh, a morning pony...

"Mornin' sir!" the young mare chimed cheerfully, clearly on somewhere between three and four cups of coffee.

"Good morning," Gearrick replied, putting his tired side underneath a comfortable layer of calm and politeness. "I'm looking for one of the guests staying here for the festival. Do you have a miss Twilight Sparkle on the roster?" he asked, his usual attitude working its way back into place despite his all-nighter.

"Hang on, let me check," the young lady replied, flipping through the registration booklet and running a hoof down each page as she read.

"Yes sir, here she is! She's in room 516. Would you like me to call the room for you?" she asked pleasantly, closing the booklet.

"No, that won't be necessary," he replied with a chuckle, smirking mischievously. "Thanks for the help," he finished, nodding to the lady behind the counter and making his way toward the elevator.

"No problem!" she called back, waving as he departed.

Gearrick sighed as the doors shut, breaking him away at last from the overly-energetic creature outside.

"Morning ponies..." he grumbled, punching the button for the fifth floor.

Twilight rubbed at her eyes as something outside her room tapped lightly on the door. She felt like hell, and her mane was hanging around at the edges of her vision, a clear sign that it was messy, as usual in the morning.

The knocking stopped, leaving her tired mind unsure if she had just imagined it or not. With a grumble she wiggled back into the blankets, closing her eyes again and hoping that whoever it was wasn't actually there.

The knocking started up again, this time a little louder. It was now apparently and unfortunately real, and so with a groan Twilight rolled out of bed, blinking as she waited for the head-rush to subside. She didn't get hangovers often enough to handle them well, but she sure as hell knew when she had one.

"Room service!" came a call from the door.

"I didn't even order room service..." she muttered, head hanging tiredly as she made her way over to the door. Her entire plan consisted of telling whoever it was they had the wrong room and going back to bed. She didn't even have to check the clock to know there was still a little time before the second stage of the festival that she could be sleeping, which wasn't improving her already hangover-soured mood.

Yawning, she opened the door, not caring how she looked. It would take her all of five seconds to tell the hotel staffpony to get lost, so what was the point--

Her heart rate spiked like mad and her eyes shot wide as she saw the last thing she had expected; Gearrick Tinkermane, smirking and standing on her doorstep. Time froze for several awkward moments where she just stood there looking at him wide eyed, mouth hanging open in preparation to tell him she hadn't ordered room service, but those words didn't exactly apply anymore.

Panic finally caught up with her as she realized she looked absolutely miserable and was in no kind of state to be seen by any stallion, particularly this one. So, with all the grace of a true lady, she slammed the door in his face, putting her back to it as her breathlessness gave way at last, leaving her gasping for air on the other side of that feeble wooden barrier.

What was he doing here? Did he even know what time it was? Oh Celestia, she looked like a wreck, all hangovered, her mane sleep-frazzled. 'Hangovered' wasn't even a word, but it made about as much sense as anything else going on in her head.

"What the heck?" she whispered to herself, doing her best to calm down despite the fact that her 'midnight dating fantasy' stallion was out there. After everything that had run through her head the night before, things were far more out of hoof than they needed to be in her own mind.

"Good morning to you, too," came a calm, joking remark from the other side of the door. "Mind opening the door? I didn't mean to surprise you that badly. I guess the room service thing was a little too far, huh?" he chuckled, clearly not even close to as distressed as Twilight.

Open the door? What was he, crazy...?

Right.

Twilight took a few moments to gather her nerves and get over her reaction. She contemplated telling him to wait a minute while she straightened herself out, but she didn't know how long that would really take. As awkward as it was for her to be seen like this, she didn't want to leave him just standing in the hallway talking at her door. With a resigned sigh, she slowly pulled it open, standing to the side and doing her best to put off being seen again for as long as possible.

Gearrick walked in, a puzzled expression on his face as he inched around the door while Twilight shut it, not making eye contact with him and face flushed from embarrassment.

"Hey, something wrong?" he asked, unaware that he now had her cornered and completely oblivious to her distress.

She finally faced him, wincing in preparation for his reaction.

He just laughed as he caught her wince, but not mockingly. Just his usual, warm laugh. "Oh, I get it, you've got a headache. Sorry if I woke you up, but it's not long before the festival starts."

Twilight's brain stalled as she processed that. First off, he was right about the headache. Secondly, did he not see the explosion of hair she knew she was wearing?

"No, no, it's fine... I must look like a wreck," she muttered, closing her eyes as she sighed. They snapped back open as some very unexpected words met her ears.

"You kidding? You look great. I mean, your mane is a little messy, but it doesn't look bad," he said with a chuckle. "You should see mine in the morning," he called over his shoulder, walking further into the room.

Twilight followed, unconsciously brushing a hoof through her mane as she did so, a slight pink tint on her cheeks. She looked great? Doubtful, but she couldn't argue the good feeling it brought her to hear that, and his tone had been so sincere.

"S-so, what's the occasion?" she asked, clearing her throat as she caught back up with the times.

"Well, I figured since I come pretty close by here anyways on my way to Central Square, I'd pick you up," he explained casually, sitting in the chair by her window. "I'll admit I had kind of hoped you were already awake," he said with an embarrassed sigh of his own. "Now I just feel bad... The last thing you needed after a long night of drinking was somepony pounding on your door, huh?"

"Well you definitely startled me," she admitted, a sense of normalcy finally starting to creep in. "But don't worry about it. It's really nice of you to offer to pick me up."

"What are friends for?" he asked with a small laugh.

Twilight smiled, sensing a stark similarity to her own words from the night before. "Well, I appreciate it, but..." she began, flushing as she continued, "do you mind waiting for me in the lobby? I still need to get ready..."

Gearrick, who had been reclining lazily in the chair, went stock stiff, eyes wide with shock. "Ah shit, I didn't even think of that..." he groaned, his own face turning red from embarrassment as he slapped a hoof up to it. He got up out of the chair quickly, heading for the door. "I am so, so sorry. I'll, um... I'll be waiting downstairs," he said hastily, giving her a sheepish smile as he departed, shutting the door behind him.

Twilight couldn't resist a small laugh at his expense as she shook her head, making her way towards the shower. "What a strange guy..."

"Seriously, it's fine. If you hadn't come by, I probably would have slept through the alarm," Twilight admitted, trying her best to set Gearrick's worries aside. After the awkward departure from her hotel room, he had apologized at least three times for bothering her that morning. The two of them had gotten on the road shortly afterward.

Things were more or less back to normal again, particularly her mane. After getting to the mirror she had been happy to find it hadn't been nearly as destroyed as she thought it was. She still felt embarrassed by her reaction, but Gearrick hadn't mentioned it, so she had just chalked it up to being half-awake, and let it go at that.

The reality was a little more tightly tied to her heart, but she wasn't in any hurry to revisit her thoughts from the night before with him sitting right in the seat across from her.

"I should have swung by later in the morning..." she heard him mutter, causing her to smile. He really did feel bad about waking her up, but in a way she thought it was sweet. It was obvious that he hadn't given the act any real forethought, that he had simply just done it. The fact that it had come so easily to him to swing by first thing in the morning gave her a warm feeling.

Just one of a large number of warm feelings that she didn't have a good grasp on lately.

"Have you had breakfast yet?" Twilight asked, thinking that moving the conversation along to something more present would be better for the both of them.

"Not yet. The city hosts breakfast every morning of the festival for the engineers, since they're supposed to show up for each event before it starts for the day," he replied with a small smile. "And since I don't really have a kitchen back at the workshop, it's easier on me to eat what they make. Plus it's probably better than hotel food, so we both win," he said with a laugh.

Twilight smiled as he made light of his less-than-stellar living situation. "Sounds good to me. So what kind of things are involved in stage two?"

Gearrick didn't answer her question immediately as he focused on the road, the Nomad taking the narrow corner slowly. "Sorry, eyes on the road and such. For most of the engineers it involves them supplying some kind of object for the demonstration. For example, the lifting machine will probably just... lift something heavy. Not very technical, I guess, but it's pretty straightforward for most inventions," he said, trailing off as he realized he'd just mentioned the machine Twilight now suspected to be a time-bomb.

"The lifting machine..." she repeated, her gaze shifting to one of concern.

"Right, I kind of forgot that was a touchy subject," he replied with a sigh, shaking his head. "Smooth, Gearrick..." he muttered to himself, too quietly for Twilight to hear. "Don't worry, I'm sure everything will be fine. I already notified the officials, so they'll keep a close eye on his demonstration and stop it if anything happens."

His tone sounded warm enough, but something about what he was saying made Twilight uneasy. He spoke the words just fine, but he was pointedly looking away from her. She wanted to question him on it, but didn't know where to begin without seeming rude.

"You're sure it will be fine?" she asked quietly, watching his face carefully to better judge the truth.

"Trust me," he said, turning away from the road just long enough to flash her a confident smirk.

Twilight sighed in relief. Something still didn't feel right, like he hadn't told the whole truth. But she could tell he wasn't lying outright, that he really believed everything would turn out. "I trust you. You're the best tinker I know," she teased, knowing that his sense of humor would easily follow up on her joke.

"I'm the only tinker you know," he corrected, just as she had expected. The two of them shared a laugh over it, and afterward Twilight let a comfortable silence drift between them as Gearrick drove, and she thought.

They got along so well. At times Gearrick was so easy to predict, and at others completely incomprehensible. It seemed strange to feel so normal around somepony she hardly knew, yet at the same time she felt like she had already known him a long time. They had a lot in common, especially in the social aspect. He reminded her of herself seven years ago, when she had first moved to Ponyville to make friends.

"Friends, huh? You know, I never had very many."

His words from last night came back to her as she watched him drive. They had been so bleak, yet he had said them so casually. It worried her to think that his move to Manehattan hadn't been like hers to Ponyville. He had come here looking for opportunity, and perhaps companionship, and of the two he hadn't really found either, it seemed. Between his failed quest to join the Gearbox Guild and living in a city that barely knew him beyond his name, it was hardly surprising.

Even so, he seemed to always be on the verge of smiling. As if somehow everything were still right, despite what Twilight knew was in his past. Just one day wasn't enough for her to decide if it was sincere, or just good acting, but he didn't seem depressed in his situation. Whichever the case, both were forms of strength; hiding distress and conquering it were different, yet both shared a common cause. It would take time to know for sure, she knew.

Time. She smiled to herself as she watched the goggles around his neck swing gently due to the force of a turn, the acceleration afterwards forcing him back into his seat slightly. She liked spending time with him, liked being around him. Even if she couldn't put words to all the reasons why, the feeling of being around him made her content. There was still so much to discover about him, and if all it took was time, Twilight had plenty to spare.

"Hey, you there?" she heard him call, a tan-coated leg waving in front of her face.

She shook her head, clearing her deep thoughts out and coming back to reality. She realized now that they had stopped in Central Square, and that Gearrick was the first contestant to arrive. "Sorry, I was just thinking," she replied, smiling sheepishly at him, and hoping he wouldn't ask what about.

"Hey, don't worry about it. Happens to me all the time; it's the sign of a strong mind," he chuckled, popping his door open and leaving a very relieved Twilight to get her own. "Heck, maybe you'd make a good tinker."

"You think so?" she asked, fiddling with her door as she tried to locate the button for it. After a few more seconds of searching she finally opened it, hopping out.

"Then again..." he teased, smirking all the while as she struggled with her door.

"Oh, thanks," she grumbled, rolling her eyes. Another shared laugh followed, her smile lingering well after the moment had passed.

"Come on, let's go get something to eat," he urged, scowling and nudging her in the direction of city hall. "I'm hungry, and you're holding up progress."

Twilight couldn't help but laugh as she did as she was told, heading for city hall.

The tall, slim stallion with the horseshoe magnet cutie mark watched all of the morning's speeches and political nonsense with a notable disinterest. Being required to sit on the city's governing board was just one of the many 'perks' his position offered him. He never had cared for most of the drivel, but if one listened carefully enough opportunity could be found anywhere.

Like this contest, for example. It had been his idea to begin with, after all. The guild had sponsored the very first Steamtech Festival personally, since the city had had its doubts about his scheme. But, after the increased revenue from tourism, the greedy bit-biters had hopped on his wagon soon enough.

Between the increase in food sales, hotel board-rates, and any other number of items the city considered to be taxable, the profits of such a large contest like this were well worth the effort put into hosting it. Not to mention that the entry and admittance fees for viewers all but covered the prizes offered.

The stallion smiled. Good for the city's business, and good for his. After all, the contest was his invention, and he knew how it worked better than anypony. Ponies were much like machines; greasing hooves and greasing gears were equally simple, and just as effective as one another. The prizes almost always came back to the guild, since a guild member almost always won.

Almost.

And the Gearbox Guild almost always bought the rights to the private entries, or at least those worth buying.

Almost.

The slender stallion glared out the corners of his eyes at the booth to the stage's right, his golden coat ruffling as his brow scowled beneath his backswept salt-and-pepper mane. Almost, because of that rascal. The hardest part about the contest was always dealing with the out-of-towners like Gearrick Tinkermane. Which was precisely the problem in the previous contest.

There was no out-of-towner like Gearrick Tinkermane. All of the equations for moderating the entries, determining the outcomes of the second and third stages... All of it hinged on certain key factors. The visiting engineer had to be many things for the Gearbox Guild's methods to prove truly effective.

Gearrick was many things, and none of the right ones, it seemed.

He had not had a plan in place to deal with the youngster at the time, for he had fully expected his failure in the second stage. By then it had been too late to plan around him. The contest could never be truly rigged, not without his efforts being discovered. The best that he could do was nudge it in his favor, take calculated steps to get the outcome he most desired. But he would not underestimate the young tinker again.

He was now a part of the plan; just another unknown number on the board. One to be subtracted.

The opening speech for the day finally finished to a chorus of cheering, and the golden-coated stallion sighed, letting it all go. So there was a variable to be solved for. A simple enough problem, especially when all of the other factors were known. He would find a way to handle that young upstart, no matter how functional his invention might prove to be. This time, he was accounted for.

As the officials shuffled around, all hoping for good seats to watch the second stage, a rather pretty looking silver-and-black earth pony made her way quietly onto the stage, her midnight blue mane and tail swishing in her wake, the lock-and-key cutie mark swaying gracefully on her flank. She was clearly no city official, but the golden-coated stallion recognized her all the same.

"Mr. Magnet," she greeted evenly, her eyes and tone both seeming disinterested.

Mick Magnet, head of the Gearbox Guild, smiled in return to her less-than-enthusiastic greeting. "Good morning, Phyla. I trust you've had a busy week so far?"

"If you're referring to the 'accident', yes. It's been taken care of, though I wouldn't say it has been eventful yet," she replied idly, not even reacting to his return scowl.

Mick calmed himself, sighing. This was just how Phyla was; a purely calculating mind, with no sense of tact. But at least she was talking to him in a setting where nopony would hear her. "Yes, that. It will be eventful, won't it?" he asked, letting some of his frustration with her forwardness bleed through.

"We cover our agreements," she said simply.

"Good. You know how I hate mistakes," Mick said quietly, giving Phyla a calm smile.

She looked him over with emotionless eyes, never returning his smile. "Mistakes like Gearrick Tinkermane?"

Mick's smile shrank immediately, and anger flared in his eyes for just a split second before he regained control. He sighed and closed his eyes, to better prevent the sight of Phyla's cold expression from bothering him further.

"Yes... Mistakes like Mr. Tinkermane," he replied slowly.

"Our fee for dealing with him is triple," Phyla said suddenly.

Mick glared at her, his voice dropping into a low, hissing whisper to avoid shouting. "Triple?"

"Triple," she replied, not backing down an inch even as the tall stallion's hot, angry breath brushed against her muzzle, his face pressed threateningly close. "He is the only one that you are unsure of handling without us, isn't he? You do not need us for the other jobs. In those situations, we are only convenient. But when the time comes to deal with Mr. Tinkermane, who else would you trust to handle it?" she asked, her tone remaining calm all throughout.

Mick sighed once more, backing off from her. As he calmed, his smile came back at last. "You're too smart for your own good, Phyla," he said, turning to look out over the first invention being tested for the day.

"And?" she replied curtly, still not having received the answer she desired.

Mick's smile only widened as he watched the first demonstration of the morning commence, the machine consuming a cloud to power several lamps. She was right; only Gearrick was of any real concern in his equation.

"Very well... Triple," he said at length, shooting her a glance. "But not yet."

"A pleasure doing business with you," Phyla replied shortly, turning and striding from the stage, vanishing into the crowd.

Mick's smile remained even through his sigh, one of satisfaction. "And what a pleasure it will be."

Soon. Only one entry left between now and the Nomad's testing phase. Gearrick sighed as his turn approached minute by minute, more than prepared for the ridicule he had received the previous year at this stage in the contest. His ideas weren't easy for those who hadn't built the machine to understand, he knew. They might jeer, laugh at him, but in the end the only way to correct their ignorance was to prove them wrong.

At the same time, he needed to prove himself right. He had faith in his own skill, in the Nomad, but it had never been tested before. The majority of the machine was theory, and what little had been shown was only a tenth of its total purpose at the most. Inside the city, the vehicle wasn't worth anything. It wasn't meant to be confined to streets, or pressed in between buildings. The spirit of this machine was something different.

If the metal could breathe, if the Nomad had a soul, then it would be consumed with wanderlust, Gearrick knew. It would be difficult to prove to anyone in this place how valuable it was. He had known that while building it, known that there were few who would truly respect it. Even fewer who would respect him for building such a thing. No doubt a housewife would much rather have a new steam-powered washing machine. A business stallion would prefer a paper-sorter, or a banker might desire an electric bit-counter.

But this wasn't about what they wanted. This machine could revolutionize the world of travel, even if they couldn't see it. And even if they couldn't appreciate it, Gearrick loved it. His heart was in this machine as much as it had ever been in anything, and it didn't matter how much they spited his claims to its ability. In the end, they simply couldn't see past the sky scrapers, into the larger world where the Nomad was truly remarkable.

He used those thoughts to steady his resolve and bring his focus back to reality as the lifting machine prepared its demonstration, the last before his own. This needed his attention. The lifting machine's success or failure was as much in his hooves as those of its inventor, though none would ever know it.

He picked Twilight out of the crowd easily, for she had stayed closer to his booth for the day's events than the day before. After breakfast, and letting her hangover wear off a bit, he had encouraged her to wander around and talk to some of the other inventors. Though after doing so she had come right back, which pleased him more than he had expected. Friends had always been hard to find, but he never expected them to be so hard to get rid of, and he was very grateful for that.

He chuckled to himself as she wandered through the crowd. Even though she made an effort to stay near the booth when she could, her intellect wouldn't allow her to miss a thing in the contest. Gearrick admired and respected that, but he noted that with this particular demonstration she seemed reluctant to go very close, unlike the others.

He couldn't imagine why.

"Well, I wouldn't trust me either unless I had to," he said to himself with a sigh. "Then again, she doesn't know what I know. I guess in a way she's much like anypony else; seeing is believing," he admitted with a small smile. He wasn't even sure of his fix to that machine himself, but he was willing to wager it was safer now than it had been, even with a midnight quick-fix like that.

He could just barely make out the worried expression on her face as she looked over her shoulder at him. Gearrick chuckled to himself as she turned away quickly, clearly not having meant to look his way on purpose, and flustered to find him looking back at her.

"Don't worry, Twilight. You'll see," he said quietly to himself, watching as the tinker responsible began his monologue for the day. As he had expected, a hefty box from the riverside shipping region of the city had been brought in for this demonstration.

Gearrick watched as the engineer maneuvered the lifter's functional end under the box. All in all, he had to admit that the machine was well made, and likely it would become patented shortly after the contest, assuming one simple thing...

His heart sped up slightly as the machine began to move, venting a puff of steam and inching the hefty box off the ground. A quick glance at Twilight showed her worry keenly as well, for she was standing stock still and staring wide-eyed.

Gearrick sighed in relief as cheers went up, the machine lifting the heavy box several feet off the ground with no issue. He had kept his eyes squarely fixed on where he had repaired the weld, and had not seen a single wisp of steam, though he doubted he could have caught anything at this distance anyways. He watched with satisfaction as Twilight relaxed too, bringing a slight smile to his face.

There was always a short break between the demonstrations, so that the previous tinker could return his equipment to his booth and such, as well as for the next in line to make preparations, and so the tinker with the lifting machine began his return trip to his booth.

Gearrick mentally prepared himself as the inventor of the lifting machine, who occupied the only adjacent booth to his, returned with a smug look on his face. He had to mentally resist the urge to roll his eyes as he approached, and he could guess well enough what kind of conversation he was about to have.

"Ya see, kid?" the older stallion said snidely. "I told ya, she works fine. Maybe that'll teach ya to keep your nose out of other ponies' tinkerin', eh?" he finished, smirking as if he'd somehow conquered the world before walking off to his booth, festival staff moving the invention back into place for him.

"I suppose you were right after all," Gearrick replied evenly, strongly resisting the urge to explain that sticking his nose into his tinkering had likely saved the arrogant bastard's life. "I shouldn't have said anything."

But I still would have done something.

"You're damn right," he huffed over his shoulder, and Gearrick couldn't help but smile. Once again, nopony would ever know what he knew. With a hefty sigh and a chuckle of disbelief, he finally let it go. Just in time, too, as Twilight made her way back over.

"Well, you were right," she chimed cheerfully, giving him a warm smile.

"Well of course. I'm the best tinker you know, remember?" he asked, smiling at the irony.

"You're the only tinker I know," she replied, not missing a beat. "Anyways, you're next, right? How are you going to demonstrate the Nomad in a place like this?" she asked, giving him a confused look.

To which he responded with a confident smirk. "I'm not."

"What do you mean you're not? How do you expect to win without demonstrating it?" she asked, slight agitation in her tone.

"I meant I'm not demonstrating it here," he clarified, chuckling. "Unless they want me to climb a skyscraper with it, though I can't promise the building would survive the treatment it would get from the Nomad."

"Then what are you going to do?" she asked, clearly confused. "I highly doubt the city would let you do anything like that anyways."

"You'll see," Gearrick replied vaguely, smiling as he physically watched the curiosity get the better of her, her hooves kneading the ground in front of her as she bit back any further questions. "What's the matter? Don't trust me?" he asked sarcastically, giving her a smile to show that he was teasing.

She sighed, and even managed to relax a bit at that. After the fiasco with the lifting machine, and more accurately his being correct about it, that was an argument she couldn't hope to win, he knew.

"That's not fair," she grumbled, fixing him with a scowl.

"Well, if you want a good seat for the show, get as far to the west end of the festival as you can," he said with a small smile.

After a moment longer, she finally gave up her scowling and just sighed. "Fine, but it had better be worth it. You're driving me crazy, I hope you know," she muttered, wandering off towards the west end like he had asked.

"What are friends for?" he called after her, and he had the satisfaction of watching the corners of her mouth turn up before she vanished from sight.

Mick ground his teeth, furious. Phyla had lied to him! The lifting machine was functioning perfectly, as near as he could tell, and that was certainly not part of their arrangement.

This was not good. Though the machine wasn't a particularly masterful mechanical work, it was owned by an out-of-towner, so it was in line to be removed from the contest. Half of the reason the Gearbox Guild even provided workshops for out-of-towners during the festival was so that they could handle contest rigging more subtly. The fools from outside the city usually just took it as a gesture of good will and never looked into it.

The Gearbox Guild was a professional and licensed organization. They would never be involved in shady business like 'modifying' contest entries.

Normally the process worked, and eliminating those not of the guild was a simple matter. A few others, such as Gearrick, would find ways to store their works in locations not owned by the guild, and those became more difficult, and were usually handled in stage three. But this had been a simple job, in one of his own warehouses.

Mick puzzled over that. Phyla had never failed him before, and she had just assured this particular incident was taken care of. It was possible that the engineer had noticed whatever changes she had made, but Mick found that unlikely.

He had given Phyla specific instructions to subtly alter the machine the night directly before the contest began. In that case the engineer had usually already completed any preliminary testing, he wouldn't have had any reason to recheck the machine. It was the safest bet, and generally foolproof.

Something didn't add up.

Mick Magnet glared, a hoof to his chin as he watched the tinker with the lifting machine return to his booth. He must have found the change Phyla had made by chance. There was no other explanation.

He hated chance.

Gearrick steeled himself as the spokespony cleared her throat on stage, even going so far as to close his eyes and let out a deep breath. "No matter what they say..." he said quietly to himself, doing his best to calm his nerves. This was the most possible opportunity for failure, the second stage his greatest cause for worry. Confident as he always tried to seem to others, he couldn't deny the fear of failing.

"Ladies and gentlecolts, our final demonstration for the day... Gearrick Tinkermane, and the Nomad!" she called.

No matter what they say.

He opened his eyes slowly, one final sigh readying him for what he expected to see: scowling faces, skeptical looks. Instead he was greeted with a sight that made his heart stutter between disbelief and excitement. All the way between him and the center of the square was a clear path, the ponies edging it eying him with curiosity instead of skepticism.

As he made his way down the aisle, he felt his confidence returning as ponies smiled at him, the Nomad trailing behind him in his copper aura, rumbling along the brick floor of the square. He could hear them talking amongst themselves, all of them sounding more excited than worried, or at least to his ears. If there were any who truly thought he would fail among them, they weren't close enough to be heard.

A ways ahead of him a young unicorn colt half-tumbled right into his path, having squeezed his way forcibly through the legs of the adults to get this far. Surprised by his sudden appearance, but amused by the method of such an entrance, Gearrick couldn't help but smile, even as somepony within the crowd, presumably the colt's mother, started shouting for him.

Those lining the edge of the path were all muttering curiosities over the appearance of the boy, even as Gearrick continued his approach. If he had to guess, Gearrick would say that the boy was maybe four or five years old at the most.

As soon as the colt was back on his hooves and had caught sight of Gearrick, his face broke into a huge smile. "Mr. Tinkermane!" he called excitedly, blurring his 'r' and 'w' sounds slightly in typical childhood fashion. He half ran, half-bounced on his tiny legs to close what remained of the distance between himself and Gearrick, smiling all the while, and calling out to him over and over.

A unicorn mare, presumably his mother, finally broke through the crowd at about the same place her boy had, looking panicked. When she caught sight of her son completely disrupting the procession she dashed over, looking appalled. "Oh, Mr. Tinkermane, I am so, so sorry!" she apologized, picking her son up with her magic.

Gearrick laughed as the young colt twisted and turned, unable to do anything more than flail around in his mother's magical aura. "Mom, put me down!"

"Absolutely not!" she huffed at him, before turning back to Gearrick, readying something else to say, but he cut her off with a small smile.

"Why not set him down, ma'am? It's absolutely fine, he's not bothering anypony," he said calmly, still smiling all the while.

Looking confused, the mother at last relented, setting her son down. The small ball of fluff immediately rocketed over to Gearrick, latching onto one of his front legs. The crowd and Gearrick all shared a laugh at his antics, things they could easily recall doing in their own youth.

"Well hello there," Gearrick replied, rubbing a hoof gently atop the little one's head. "And what's your name?"

"Fizzit," he replied excitedly.

"Fixxit," his mother corrected gently, smiling as the situation became cuter by the second.

"Well, Fixxit, it's an honor to meet you," Gearrick said quietly, as the colt detached himself from his leg. "You're a little young for a festival like this. What brings you out here?"

"I'm your biggest fan!" he replied instantly, proudly putting a hoof to his chest and holding his head high.

His mother chuckled to herself, but not mockingly. This was clearly something she had seen rehearsed again and again at home.

Gearrick was speechless for a short while. Fan? His fan? Those words radiated straight down to his hooves, filled him with warmth.

"We took him to see the festival last year," his mother explained. "His father's a tinker in Fillydelphia, and bought us all tickets to come and watch, though he was too busy to come this year. He doesn't have the money to compete himself, but it's his passion, and he wanted to share it with his son. Fixxit was only three then, and when he saw you in stage two..."

"Then Gearrick Tinkermane soars through the sky!" the young colt illustrated, telling his own version of the story to anypony who would listen, dashing around and making 'whooshing' sounds for emphasis. The crowd laughed warmly at his antics, thoroughly enjoying the completely unexpected, and interesting, break in the contest routine.

Unable to find anything to say, Gearrick let out a single, disbelieving laugh, but it was clear by the expression on his face that he was flattered, not taken aback. Fixxit's mother smiled, amused by his reaction.

"Does it fly?" came a sudden, high-pitched question from below.

Gearrick smiled, regaining his composure, but retaining the wonderful feeling. "Well, maybe..." he said with a sly wink. "What about you, bud? Do you think it can fly?" he asked, smiling still.

"I bet it can if you say it can," he replied without hesitation. "It's the bestest machine ever!"

Gearrick was once again stricken dumb by the boy's zeal and warm-hearted faith in his invention.

"Can I have your automath?" Fixxit asked excitedly, inching closer and smiling ear to ear.

"Autograph," his mother corrected again.

"Autograph," Fixxit clarified. "Can I, Mr. Tinkermane?"

Gearrick smiled, and picked the youngster up in his aura. "Of course you can, but an autograph isn't good enough for my biggest fan," he said with a chuckle. Without a second thought, Gearrick floated the colt up over the front end of the Nomad, and set him right in the driver's seat.

The mother eyed him critically, clearly a little concerned. "Is it really alright?" she asked, afraid her son might press something he shouldn't.

"Well, it isn't on, so he can't hurt much," Gearrick replied with a small laugh as the colt went absolutely ballistic, jumping on the seat and squealing with joy. "Why don't you stick around too, just in case?" he offered, using his magic to get the Nomad rolling again.

The mother nodded, walking right beside him as the crowd started applauding and laughing at the energetic colt in the vehicle.

"Hey Fixxit?" Gearrick shouted over the noise. "Want to see something cool?"

"What's cooler than this?" he asked in disbelief, standing up on the seat and leaning out over the windshield.

"See that big yellow button in the middle of the steering handles?" he asked, assuming that the child probably owned a bike or a scooter.

"Yep!" he called back, sitting back down.

"Hit it!" Gearrick called back, smiling mischievously.

"What does it-" his mother began, but she was cut off by an incredibly loud, lengthy beep emitted by the Nomad.

"Nice, glad to see that's still working," Gearrick chuckled to himself, the mother joining him in a laugh as the colt in the car reacted to such a spectacular result from the button.

"This is the best day ever!" Fixxit squealed, hitting the button again and again.

And with a chorus of beeping, Gearrick tugged the Nomad the rest of the way, his biggest fan at the helm.

Fixxit and his mother had a place nice and close to the center area, the young colt having disembarked so that the festival could continue. The judges stood on the stage, eagerly awaiting his pre-demonstration speech. Not many of them looked too put-out by the delay caused by Fixxit, and in fact the vast majority of the city board was smiling about it.

However, the show must go on, and so Gearrick had been forced to extract the young colt, who, after his adventures with the 'beeper', had been more than satisfied.

"Ladies and gents, it goes without saying that the very nature of the Nomad is difficult to display in full. I have already shown that it can run without the rails of a train, even through these very streets. But without a beach, how can I show that it can traverse the dunes of the oceanside with ease? Without a cliff, how can the Nomad be made to scale it? Sadly, none of that can be found in this square."

A smile came to his face as disappointed sighs, and even angry remarks began to filter in.

"But I can prove at the least that it can traverse water, and that it is by far faster than any steam boat yet built."

The crowd went silent at this declaration, and the spokespony was forced to clarify his rather vague point.

"And how do you propose to do such a thing?" she asked, sounding more intrigued than anything. There was no water in the festival grounds.

"What I propose, if the judges permit it, is to take the festival to the bank of the Manehattan river, and drive the Nomad across the water," he declared evenly.

The crowd was stunned, and even the judges seemed confused. Requests like this were simply not made in the contest.

The spokespony cleared her throat, recovering herself. "This is an unusual request... The judges will have to discuss it first," she said cautiously, as if expecting Gearrick to rescind his request.

"Certainly," he called back to the stage, smiling all the while.

"If your request is denied, you will forfeit the second stage," the spokespony replied, her tone still holding that cautious note.

The crowd began to murmur at this, but Gearrick's smile remained steady. "A risk I am willing to take. If you will review the contest rules, as I was given them, you will find that my request is well within the bounds. Check section four, article 'b', if you please," he said politely.

The spokespony sighed, clearly forced into a judge's debate on the issue. "Very well. Everypony, please wait while the judges discuss."

"Forfeit? Like, lose?" Fixxit asked from the side, his voice full of disappointment.

"Don't worry, bud," Gearrick said with a small smile, watching as the ring of judges on stage was in heavy debate, a rule book being passed between them.

"I know what I'm doing."

"Such a request is asinine!" Mick Magnet fumed, his mood still shot from the unexpected success of the lifting machine. "I wrote the rules for this contest, I of all ponies should know that what he is requesting is a blatant disruption of the contest proceedings!"

The mayor and the spokespony, who were both eying the article mentioned by Gearrick, pointedly ignored him. "It is not a disruption unless it happens, and if the rules allow for it, then it is not a disruption," the mayor said plainly, scanning the page.

"You can't seriously be considering this..." Mick grumbled, putting a hoof to his face in frustration.

"The article reads:

The city is required to supply all possible necessities for the second stage of the contest. Should a contestant enter an invention for which the city cannot provide an adequate means to test it, then he or she is to be disqualified," the mayor finished, his old voice warbling through the reading.

"There, you see?" Mr. Magnet grumbled. "If the city cannot provide an adequate means of testing, then he is disqualified."

"Mr. Tinkermane has specified a perfectly adequate means for testing his invention," the mayor pointed out. "It is intended to cross water, among other things. As for the means, the river can, in fact, be utilized with relative ease. Granted, the entire festival crowd must be relocated for such a thing, but it can be done. And if the means can be supplied..." he trailed off, the other judges nodding sagely.

"Then the city is required to supply it. Very well, I'll announce it," the spokespony said, wandering off to the podium as the assembly broke off, the business concluded.

Mick Magnet ground his teeth, glaring at the speck of tan fur in the center of the square. "Very clever, Mr. Tinkermane. Very clever."

Twilight sighed as she waited at the edge of the crowd. What the heck was he thinking? Risking the entire contest like that? She understood now that if they did move to the river, she'd be able to get a front-row seat to watch him demonstrate the Nomad since she was already on the side of the crowd closest to the river. However, there was no guarantee that was even going to happen.

"Gearrick, you're insane," she muttered, watching as the ponies on stage fidgeted around the rule book. At last the spokespony broke away, and Twilight could feel her heart pumping with anticipation. She really hoped it wouldn't come down to his disqualification.

"According to the article mentioned... the city is required to grant Mr. Tinkermane's request," the spokespony declared loudly.

After only a moment's hesitation, the crowd was in an uproar over it, not the least of which was Twilight's own shout of relief.

"Everypony please proceed in an orderly fashion down Twelfth Avenue. The contest will resume once the procession has reached the Manehattan River. After the final demonstration, the closing ceremonies for the day will be completed back here at Central Square, for any who are interested in attending. You are dismissed," she finished, her magically amplified voice easily carrying over the crowd.

The mass of ponies quickly began moving, though there was a distinct hole in the crowd where the Nomad was, making its way slowly towards the avenue mentioned.

Unwilling to lose the head start Gearrick had so conveniently given her, Twilight started down the mentioned street, which intersected the square. As much as she wanted to find and berate Gearrick for being a lunatic, she couldn't deny that she badly wanted to see if everything he said about his wonder machine was true.

So, at a less than orderly pace, Twilight took off to get a good seat to watch the fun.

V: Do or Die

The mass exodus of the festival to a more riverside setting had been all the more cover Mick Magnet needed to go in search of Phyla. She had assured him that the lifting machine had been taken care of.

Mistakes. Mick hated mistakes, hated everything about them. Especially mistakes he had already paid for. He edged his way down yet another alley along 12th Avenue, certain that wherever Phyla had gone, it wouldn't have been far. As calculating as she was, she would know that Mick would be looking for her.

And she would expect him to be angry.

Around the latest bend he finally spotted his target, and Mick's twitching nerves and barely-contained anger nearly erupted in a vicious shout, before he realized that it wasn't Phyla at all... but he wasn't far off.

Mick growled angrily, noting as he approached that this mare's coat was not silver with black spots, but the other way around. Her cutie mark was likewise contrary to Phyla's. Where Phyla's showed a locked padlock and lonely key, this pony sported an unlocked padlock instead, the key inserted in the keyhole.

Hearing his hoofsteps she whirled on him, her eyes magenta in hue, not the deep blue that Phyla's eyes held. Just like Mick, she seemed to be on the verge of rage, lip quivering as she barely contained it.

"Myla..." Mick growled, displeased to have found her instead of her sister. She was by far the more difficult of the two. In the end though, no matter which of the sisters he stumbled upon, business was business, and a broken promise was bad business for both her and her sister. His position on the matter became increasingly clear as he glared at her, his approach threatening.

"It's not fair!" she hissed, backing away from Mick a step.

"We had a deal, Myla," Mick said coldly, poking a hoof in her face, a hoof that shook with anger.

"You had a deal with Phyla!" she retaliated, finally stopping her backpedaling as Mick inched ever closer in the alleyway off of 12th Avenue. "Not with me! If you have something to say, say it to her."

"It's obvious she's the smart one, how stupid do you think I am?" Mick shouted, his tall frame towering menacingly over her. "I know she uses you for her business, so I know that you know exactly what happened. We had a deal," Mick said, enunciating each word with clear ire through gritted teeth.

Myla's face twitched, her magenta eyes flaring with anger. "I did exactly what she told me to! It was your stupid plan, I did everything to the letter. I always do everything to the letter."

"Except when you're having your games," Mick growled, giving the smaller female pony an angry shove. "Phyla's told me all about how you like to risk my business with your 'fun'. My work isn't for you to screw around with!" he roared, breathing heavily as his normally dapper mane fell to pieces in his ire.

Myla huffed as she recovered her balance, her angry look still in place. "I told you, I did everything she told me to. It didn't work, alright? The agreement was that we keep our fees, regardless if the results work or not."

"An investment I'm starting to regret agreeing to. It never 'not worked' before, right? What's different, hmm?" He asked, his voice rising in volume. "What in the hell happened?"

"I don't know!" she roared back, even going so far as to leap at Mick, driving him back a step. "I'm not any happier about this than you are. But we did everything you asked. I didn't see anything wrong, and neither did Phyla. We did exactly what you said, like we always do. If you don't believe me, you can hear it from her," Myla said, shaking her mane to put it back into place and taking a deep breath to calm herself down.

That seemed to calm Mick down as well. Phyla, being the logical one, didn't care enough about anything to lie, and certainly not Mick's reaction. And she would have cautioned Myla against lying too if she thought it would only backfire on her later. Myla was the actor, but Phyla was the brains of the operation, and she kept a tight leash on her sister.

"Well you tell Phyla that for our arrangement with Tinkermane, I don't want any bullshit. I don't care about what happened to the out-of-towner, but I want Tinkermane handled right. If this happens again... Well, it had better not happen again," Mick finished slowly, straightening his shoulders and sweeping his mane back into place.

Myla chuckled to herself, a playful smile coming to her lips. "Trust me, Mr. Magnet, you're not the only one who wants Mr. Tinkermane 'handled right'."

"No games!" Mick growled. "We don't have room for your stupid little games with Tinkermane, do you hear me?" His chest heaved as he did his best to control his anger, his mane once more out of place from the outburst.

Myla sighed in disappointment, pawing at her hair with a hoof and doing her best not to make eye contact with Mick. "Alright, alright. You're no fun at all," she pouted.

"Fun isn't the point. I want it done right!" Mick hissed over his shoulder, making his way out of the alley.

Myla smiled to herself once he was gone, the same smile he had reprimanded her for. "Oh don't worry... It will be."

Gearrick smiled as he stood atop the six-foot stone drop separating the city from the river of its namesake. Everypony from the previous grounds had come along, not a single one of them taking the opportunity to head home. Nearby stood Twilight and his number one fan, Fixxit, along with his mother. Gearrick had brought the young colt along personally, ensuring that he had the seat of a king for the show to come, right up against the bank of the Manehattan river.

Right next to his point of launch.

The rest of the viewers were panned out in a thin line along the bank, all of them hoping for a clear view of the river, no matter how far away they would have to be up or down shore. The wall along the bank wasn't exactly helping anypony's viewership, but it was just something they would have to cope with, the tinker silently mused.

The judges were nearby, guarding their hats and manes from the wind coming across the open expanse of the water. They were required to sit within adequate viewing distance, or so they said, and so without a stage riverside seating was required.

Gearrick silently believed they just wanted to see it work, and allowed himself a small chuckle at that.

"Well, Mr. Tinkermane?" The mayor asked.

"Could you amplify my voice please?" Gearrick asked, not personally familiar with such a spell. The spokespony nodded, lighting her horn for a brief moment. Gearrick could feel his throat tingling, and fought the urge to cough until the feeling subsided.

"There you are," she said cheerfully.

Gearrick cleared his throat as quietly as he could manage to relieve the feeling of still needing to cough. "Thank you," he replied, his words echoing back to him off the buildings as he turned to face the crowd, or as much of it as he could with them so spaced out.

"Ladies and gents, I probably won't able to hear your questions for those of you far away. I apologize for the limited viewing room, but there's not much to be done about it. For this demonstration, as I mentioned, I will show that the Nomad is quite capable of traversing water. Once I have shown that it is sea worthy, or river-worthy, rather, I will explain how it is able to do what it does. But for now, I imagine you are all just eager to see how mad I really am!" he called, smiling as a wave of laughter rolled in from all points along the wall of pony.

The spokespony deactivated the voice spell, smiling. "Good luck, Mr. Tinkermane," she said politely as he climbed into the Nomad.

"Thanks, but hopefully I won't need any," he chuckled.

"Hopefully?" she inquired, as the Nomad's first engine roared to life.

"Well yeah," he replied, smirking in his usual fashion. "What's the point of an experiment if you know the outcome?"

Realizing no further words were coming from the judge's stunned, slack-jawed mouth, Gearrick allowed himself one final laugh before turning over his shoulder and shouting at the crowd. "Alright, clear some space! I need some running room so that the Nomad doesn't just tumble over the wall!"

As the ponies did as he asked and Gearrick backed the Nomad further down 12th Avenue, Fixxit watched excitedly. "It's really gonna work!" he said loudly, thinking with his voice as children often do.

Twilight couldn't help but smile at his declaration. "It really will," she seconded, smiling confidently as he looked her way, surprised to find anypony listening.

"Are you one of Mr. Tinkermane's fans too?" he asked, his eyes going wide as that question began to carry more and more weight in his young mind.

Twilight took on a puzzled expression at that question, thoughts of the crazy tinker running freely through her head. "You know what?" she asked after a moment, bending low to whisper in the young boy's ear.

"What?" he asked hurriedly, excited to hear.

"I definitely am," she whispered, a small, tender smile painted on her face. A smile that only widened as the sound of pistons hammering grew louder and closer.

Gearrick grinned as looks of shock whipped past him, the accelerator to the floor as he raced down an alleyway of ponies, leading into the dead end of the riverside.

At this speed it was too late to try and stop; the Nomad would go over the edge no matter what. He wasn't positive that his invention would work, wasn't even positive that it would float for any span of time at all.

But he was sure as hell going to prove it, one way or the other.

His hoof hovered over the buttons for engines two and three, and right before he went over the edge, he hit them. It would take hardly any time at all for the small tanks to heat up and start adding pressure to the system, but it would take time. Time the Nomad would spend airborne, he mentally calculated. Factoring his speed and the six-foot drop in elevation, he should even have enough time to complete the Nomad's transformation.

With the engines heating up and only a few more feet of road, Gearrick smiled wider, and let out a wild yell of excitement.

The crowd watched in awe as his metal masterpiece soared over the edge, its speed keeping it level as it launched out over the water.

With no time to lose, Gearrick threw a lever that disengaged the axles, stopping their rotation. One more button press later, and the Nomad began to change in mid-air, to the bewilderment of all those watching. The tires, all six of them, folded underneath the Nomad starting from front to back, until their outer flat sides were facing down, the part attached to the axle facing upward. A great deal of whirring and clicking accompanied the change, and it completed itself right before the Nomad impacted the water.

It hit with a massive splash, the tires directing the water out and away from the interior of the vehicle. The crowd waited anxiously for the spray to clear, to better view the result.

A loud cheer started up as the mist finally cleared off, revealing the Nomad floating in the river, steadily bobbing on the waves as Gearrick continued to push buttons and throw levers.

He chuckled to himself as the axles reengaged at last, but instead of rotating end-over-end, the tires were now rotating lengthwise. He silently congratulated himself as the wheels began to spin, both keeping the Nomad afloat and propelling it forward, paddling the water between them at a high enough speed to rival any modern steam boat, once momentum had been achieved.

He tested the steering, well pleased to find that it did in fact turn the Nomad, a point he had been unsure about during the design process. Despite the fact that he was satisfied just to find it working, he knew that the ponies on the bank were expecting an explanation as much as a demonstration. Working the Nomad in a tight turn through the waves, he headed back toward the waiting crowd.

He pulled up along the shore before the judges, remaining in water deep enough to truly float as the cheers died down, the spokespony calling for order.

"Well done, Mr. Tinkermane, well done!" the Mayor called, practically belly-laughing the words from his amazement. "Simply amazing! With only wheels it sails like a ship!"

"Not 'sails', sir," Gearrick said with a smile. "Swimming might be the more accurate term."

"Well then, enlighten us!" he said eagerly, clearly as interested as anypony. He harrumphed as he nudged the spokespony, who reacted like she had been startled out of a daydream.

"O-oh, right," she muttered, her horn lighting again as Gearrick's throat tingled.

"Thank you, your honor," Gearrick said, smiling warmly at the old mayor of Manehattan. "Ladies and gents, I hope you enjoyed the show?" he inquired, smiling as shouts of the positive washed back all along the range of viewers.

"I'm glad I didn't disappoint. I'll be honest, I was a little nervous after I went over the ledge," he chuckled, the crowd sharing his laugh. "But you didn't all come here for me to joke, so I imagine you want to hear how it works," he said evenly.

Murmurs of the affirmative flowed in, so he continued.

"Firstly is how it floats. I'm am sure you've all seen a rubber ball, or a even a glass bottle float. Though the glass might be heavier than water, the air inside is lighter, forcing it to the surface. In the case of the Nomad, it is primarily bronze, and so it is incredibly heavy. So, more air is needed for buoyancy, to keep it above water. This air is stored in the tires, much like the tires of a bike, but on a much larger scale. Since the rear houses the engines, it is by far the heaviest part, and so having four larger tires is a necessity to keep the aft end afloat," he explained, standing and tapping one of the tires, which was only three fourths of its width underwater.

"But the air inside is only half of the secret; surface area also keeps it aloft. Had I driven straight into the water, the Nomad would have sunk, most likely. But with the tires facing flat against the water, surface tension helps as well," he finished, sitting back down heavily. The Nomad didn't rock much at all, clearly stable due to its weight and width.

"How does it move?" the Mayor inquired, eying the tires suspiciously.

"If you've ever paddled a boat, you've probably noticed little swirls coming behind the oar, called the wake," Gearrick said with a smile. "These swirls are caused by the water on the edges of the oar pouring in to replace the water the oar moves. Even after the water has finished moving, the swirls will remain for a time as the water maintains its momentum. In that case, the whirlpools are the result of the force applied; cause and effect. But if the whirlpools came first, then the opposite would occur. Two whirlpools spinning against one another would cause the water between them to flow with increased force."

"The tires, now that they are on their sides, emulate this. Spinning in opposing directions pulls water from the sides of the Nomad underneath it, and the currents combine as they pass between the tires, creating a sort of jet of water, pushing it forward. The same is possible in reverse. However, in order to work properly, each set of wheels, three in all, must be running on its own engine. Water resistance slows the rotation, so a single engine would not be enough to provide the electricity," he finished, smiling widely.

The Mayor was nodding to himself, clearly doing his best to take it all in. "Extraordinary. And for the turning?"

"Simple, really. Torque still applies in water, and so attempting to rotate the Nomad at one of its ends is most effective. Since the aft end is heaviest, turning the front is the easier solution. The four tires in the back provide all of the forward motion, but the two in the front are what turn the Nomad, just as they do on land. By turning only one wheel or the other it is possible to cause the Nomad to begin to spin toward that side," he explained, demonstrating as only the front right wheel spun at a high speed, turning the Nomad in a rightward circle as well.

"Simple nothin'!" the Mayor guffawed, and private conversations all along the bank were stating much the same. It was clear from the murmuring that, though concise, his explanation had been quite astounding. "It is certainly something. Now, how do you propose to get it out of the river?" he asked with a sly smile.

One which Gearrick returned. "Stand back," Gearrick advised, and the Mayor and all those along the bank in front of the Nomad cleared out hastily, in no hurry to get caught between such a mad genius and his next 'test'. Floating into the shallower water where he was in no real danger of sinking, Gearrick threw another set of levers. The front end of the Nomad popped open, a little cannon angling up out of the hood, and causing quite a few ponies to panic.

Gearrick scowled, not seeing the cause for alarm. "Relax, it's a grappling hook. Sheesh..." he grumbled, continuing to use a set of buttons to angle the end of the cannon, which was indeed loaded with the mentioned hook. Using his best guess and the top of a lamp-post he could see for reference, Gearrick finally fired, a puff of steam throwing the hook high over the wall, where it landed with a clang on the street above.

Engine two slowly reeled the hook back in, until suddenly it caught at the base of the lamp-post. When placed that low on the sturdy, steel rod, even the weight of the Nomad wasn't enough to do any damage to it as the cable attached to the hook grew taught, eventually pulling the Nomad's front end against the wall, the tires folding back upright and wheeling up the ledge.

The engine continued to wind the hook in, pulling the Nomad up the wall. Though the vehicle itself was longer than the mere six feet it had fallen, its front end rolled against gravity with relative ease, albeit slowly, until the nose of the vehicle cleared the lip. After that, the rear tires finally came flush with the wall, and they too began their ascent. The tires kept the belly from scraping as it inched over the top of the ledge, its front end finally meeting level ground once more, the rear quickly following suit, all without damaging the solid stonework of the river wall.

Gearrick hopped out of the car and fetched the grappling hook, watching as it reeled itself the rest of the way in, not yet noticing the gaping mouths and wide eyes that followed him silently as he went about his business. Once he had finally powered down the Nomad, he glanced around, noticing the dumbfounded looks all around him.

"What?" he asked indignantly, scowling. "It's just a six-foot wall... I said it climbs cliffs. Doesn't anypony listen to me?"

Twilight smiled as Gearrick rubbed his hoof atop Fixxit's head, the sunset painting long shadows behind the pair that mimicked their actions.

"But mom," he whined, even as Gearrick rubbed his head, drawing the 'o' out as long as his little lungs could take it.

"No 'buts'," she shushed, smiling as Gearrick finished tousling her son's mane. "Now say goodbye to Mr. Tinkermane."

"Gearrick is fine," he replied to the mother, but he quickly returned his attention to Fixxit when the child spoke up again.

"It's not fair," the young colt pouted, kicking at the cobblestones and scowling at his front hooves.

Gearrick just chuckled. "Don't worry, little buddy, this isn't the last you'll see of me. Besides, I'll always have time for my number one fan," he finished with a warm smile, holding a hoof out to him.

Beaming ear to ear, Fixxit bumped his tiny hoof to Gearrick's much larger one, causing the older stallion to laugh warmly. "Alright, now listen to your mother, alright? I know it doesn't seem like it, but she knows best," he said seriously, giving the mother a wink.

"Oh, alright," the little pony grumbled, his mood easily swayed once more as his stubby little legs plodded him slowly past his mother.

"Thank you, for everything. He had the time of his life today," she said, looking over her shoulder at Fixxit, who was stumbling more often than not. "He'll never admit it, but he's worn out from all the fun. You're a good stallion, and you've certainly got a way with kids. You'd make a good father one day," she said, though her tone made it clear that it was just her woman's intuition talking, not something presumptuous.

Gearrick smiled as he also watched Fixxit make very little headway. "Maybe," he admitted. "But that's a ways off yet. Thank you for letting me spend some time with him. I've always liked kids, so he's not the only one who had a good time. Anyways, you'd better get him to bed, before he tips over," he chuckled.

She simply nodded, allowing herself a small giggle as he almost did just that. "Have a good night, and good luck in the finals!" she congratulated, trotting over and picking her son up before heading home, calls of "But I'm not tired!" echoing back to him and Twilight. Gearrick just shook his head and laughed, then let out a lengthy sigh.

Now that he wasn't occupied, Twilight trotted over, still smiling to herself about the exchange Gearrick had just had with the boy. His mother had said precisely what Twilight had been thinking the whole time, that Gearrick had a way with children. Perhaps because, like a child, he lived a life of imagination. What adults saw in him as craziness, children saw as daring. He would certainly make a good father, she mused, unable to prevent herself from thinking it.

"What a day," he groaned, stretching and snapping Twilight out of her awkward thoughts about him, and bringing an all-too-common embarrassed flush to her cheeks, which he couldn't see in the pinkish-orange tint of dusk.

"It was definitely amazing," she admitted once she'd gotten over the return from her reverie. "Everything with the Nomad... It was exactly like you said it would be," she said casually, as if she had expected so all along.

"Well why wouldn't it be? I mean, I'm-" he began, but she picked it up square in the middle.

"The best tinker I know," she finished surely, bringing a smirk to his face. "So, what are your plans? Jack's again?" she asked.

Gearrick smiled mischievously. "Nope. After everything that happened today, I feel like celebrating," he said with a chuckle. "None of that casual-drunk business. This day has been wild; the drinking should be too. Care to join?"

Twilight screwed up her nose, remembering all too well her hangover from that morning. "Suit yourself, but I'll pass," she said, making it clear that it was more the idea of alcohol than anything.

"Aww, what?" he asked in exasperation. "You don't have to get drunk, I just prefer the company. You know, this might sound hard to believe after what you've seen of me, but before contest week I didn't drink a drop for about a month," he said with a small smile.

"You're right, I don't believe it," she replied evenly, shooting him a skeptical look.

"The first night you were at the booth was the night I finished touching up the Nomad. That was a special occasion," he clarified, smiling sheepishly. "But drinking alone isn't any good. Until you showed up, I never had company. Now I'm not trying to guilt you, or say that your company is an excuse to drink," he chuckled, "just that your company makes it fun."

Twilight's heart double-stepped to the tune of that compliment, denying her words for a short while. "W-well, I don't have anything else to do until the festival tomorrow, so-" she started, trying to play it off like she didn't want to spend time with him, but he cut her off unexpectedly.

"Oh, there's no festival tomorrow," he said suddenly.

"What? Why not?" she asked, confused that the week-long event wasn't week-long.

"There's a mid-week break before stage three, the technical review. A board of engineers from around Equestria examine every nut and bolt of each invention that made it past the second stage, so the middle of the week is reserved to give the contestants a day to check everything out and make sure it's up to snuff," he explained, starting teardown on his booth and throwing it all senselessly into the back of the Nomad, as usual.

"I see. So that's why..." she said, unsure how to broach the topic.

"Yes, that's why I don't mind drinking way too much tonight, or having a hangover tomorrow," he chuckled, finishing up. "Anyways, you coming or not?"

Twilight sighed, thinking that through. She did want to spend time with him, but how much was too much? Or not enough? In the end, though, her desire won out, so she nodded.

"Great, hop in," he said with a smile, getting into the driver's seat. "We'll probably hit one of the bars close to my warehouse, just so it will be easier on you," he chuckled, starting the engine as she climbed in.

"Easier on me?" she asked, clueless as to what he could possibly mean.

"Well yeah," Gearrick said, putting it into gear and driving off. "After all, I'm going to be drunk. Who do you think is going to drive the Nomad?"

Twilight shook her head as Gearrick held the door for her, noise from within filtering out to the tune of laughter and clinking glasses. Drive the Nomad? Her? Even if it was only a short ways away, she hadn't the first clue how to start the thing, much less move it.

She sighed as her conversation with Gearrick on the way over played through her head once more.

"Don't worry about it. Even if I've had too much to drink, I can guide you through it. It's really easy, I promise," he had said.

"Still sweating it?" he asked, smirking as she walked past.

"Yes," she grumbled. "Why couldn't we have just parked at the warehouse and walked?" she asked on her way through the door.

"Because that's still five minutes away, even at the Nomad's speed. Look, it's going to be fine, alright? Just have a good time. I know I will," he said leaning close so that she could hear him better over the music and the raucous laughter and loud talk of the other patrons in the bar.

Twilight flushed as he moved closer, personal space ignored for the sake of verbal convenience. "Well why not one of the bars closer to the warehouse?" she asked, not intending to let the matter drop.

"Because this is the only one I like along the river!" he called to her, making his way further inside, leaving her to follow. "You worry too much."

Twilight sighed, finally surrendering the point. As Jack had said, he wasn't a pony worth arguing with. It was increasingly apparent that her reluctance to drive the Nomad didn't concern him in the slightest, and it was her only real counter-point.

She hopped up onto a bar stool as Gearrick inched his own closer to the bar, smirking happily. She couldn't really remain stressed watching him smile like that, and so one of her own tugged at the corners of her mouth.

"Well, well, well," the bartender chuckled, sliding their way and polishing a glass with a dishrag. "Gearrick Tinkermane, our local celebrity. That was quite a show ya put on today, or so I hear."

Gearrick smiled widely in return. "Well, I don't want to brag or anything..."

"You'd rather celebrate, right?" the bartender asked with a laugh. "Well then, what can I get ya for?"

"Well, dinner's first on the list," Gearrick replied. "Kitchen still open?"

"'Course," the owner replied, smiling and happy to take the extra bits.

Twilight found herself surprised as Gearrick turned to her unexpectedly. "Well, what are you hungry for?" he asked casually, pulling a menu out of a nearby rack of them and passing it to her. "At this point I'd eat about anything," he chuckled.

"She drinkin'?" the bartender asked, drawing Gearrick's attention away from Twilight as she fiddled with the menu.

"Nope, just me. She's still recovering from last night," he said with a laugh.

Twilight blushed as the context of what she had just heard ran through her head, her eyes shooting wide. Gearrick seemed to notice it at roughly the same time, for his expression perfectly mirrored her own.

"Is that so?" the bartender asked, smirking mischievously.

"Oh come on, not like that," Gearrick said hastily, clearly put off-balance by the unintended reception of his words.

"Alright, alright. Just a joke," the large pony said, holding the rag and the glass before him in a pantomime of surrender.

Twilight felt her heart gradually slowing down. He hadn't meant it the way it sounded, but she really wished that for the sake of her blood pressure he would have been more careful with his wording. It was bad enough as it was that she secretly liked him, then he had to go and say things like that.

She drifted back to the present, glad to see Gearrick and the bartender deep in conversation about his demonstration for the day, and off the previous topic. After a short time the bartender got called away for business at the other end of the bar, leaving the two of them just sitting after the awkward moment.

Twilight was still fighting the remains of her blush when Gearrick looked at her out the corners of his eyes. He cleared his throat, a redness of his own coming to his cheeks.

"H-hey, sorry about that," he said sheepishly, facing her more directly while he apologized. "I definitely didn't mean for it to sound like that," he said, a shaky laugh helping to cut some of the tension that his embarrassment had brought on.

"I-it's alright," Twilight said hurriedly. "Don't worry about it."

Gearrick just smiled, his relief clear. "Good. I just don't want ponies getting the wrong idea, you know?" he asked, turning back around as the bartender came back, taking his drink order.

Twilight felt a twinge of some very uncomfortable emotion run through her heart. The wrong idea? Did he not think that ponies should think they were together? Did he not like her, like she liked him? Her ears drooped slightly as the feeling of rejection only ate at her more, her own thoughts driving her further into it.

"Hey, are you alright?" Gearrick asked, face close as he leaned in to examine her. With her ears flat like that, she looked like she was in pain.

Twilight's ears perked back up as she was drawn out of her deep personal thoughts, a symptom more and more common since she had met him. "I'm fine, just the start of another headache," she lied quickly, her pulse quickening due to his nearness.

"Ah, I'm sorry," he said with a frown, backing off. "If the noise is too bad, we can go," he added, and it was clear from the way he positioned himself that he was ready to get off the stool that very minute.

"No, it's fine," she said hastily, watching with relief as he settled back into his chair. She decided quietly that she would have to find out what he had meant. But for now, even if he didn't think like she thought, she just wanted to be around him. For right now, it didn't change anything.

"One on the house," the bartender said with a smile, sliding Gearrick a shot from down the bar. "But after that you're payin'!"

"On the house? When did you get so generous?" Gearrick asked with a laugh, lifting the shot and eying the bartender.

"When you got famous!" he shouted back, tossing the dishrag over his shoulder and helping another customer.

Twilight smiled as she watched her companion grin and down the shot, sighing happily to himself afterward. For now, it didn't change anything.

There were too many Twilights...

Gearrick chuckled to himself as she lead him out of the bar, leaning on her heavily. Oh yeah, he was drunk. Way drunk, just as drunk as he had imagined being. Or maybe he wasn't... he couldn't remember.

"You're hopeless," he heard her mutter, the two of them making their way to the Nomad.

"I am not!" he said indignantly, though truth be told he wasn't offended in the slightest. But even in his drunk mind, certain things still made sense. If she was going to all this trouble to help his drunk ass out, she at least deserved a few laughs. "See, I got this," he said, taking a deep breath and squinting to better control his wavy vision.

He took a sudden step away from her, and then another not even close to his destination. He quickly lost his balance though, stumbling back into her, where she made a gasping noise as she was unexpectedly forced to catch him again.

He sighed mockingly to himself, ending it all with a smirk. "Okay, you win. I'm hopeless," he admitted.

He was graced with exactly what he had been hoping for; her laughter, pure and simple.

"Alright, Mr. Hopeless, get in," she grumbled good-naturedly, helping him crawl into the passenger seat, where he simply rolled around until he thought he was sitting upright, which took him a few tries.

She laughed again as she made her way back to her side of the car, climbing into the driver's seat, bringing a smile to Gearrick's content, drunken face. He poked at the door blindly until he finally hit the button, closing it and laughing to himself.

"What?" she asked, closing her own door and obviously confused about his random laughter.

"I am really... really drunk..." he chuckled, leaning his head against the dashboard.

She just giggled, watching him quietly for a time. At last she poked him on the shoulder. "Hey, you okay? You still have to help me drive this thing, remember?" she asked worriedly.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said after a moment, peeling himself off the dashboard. "Don't worry, you'll be an expert in no-time. See that lever by the steering column?" he asked, leaning over and pointing to it.

Easily inferring that she was meant to throw it, Twilight did so, smiling as the headlights came on.

"Alright," Gearrick began, inching closer and pointing to one on the other side of her. "That one next. Oh wait, wait, push this first," he said, tapping at the button for engine one to draw her attention to it. "Then throw that lever, sorry," he chuckled.

"Are you sure you can do this?" she asked skeptically, blushing as he reached across her to point at the starting lever, which she threw, the engine rumbling to life.

"Well yeah, I mean, I'm the best tinker you know," he huffed, sitting back up. "Okay, so, the pedals on the floor... the one on the right is the accelerator, and the other one is the brake. Now that it's running, we're in park, so you have to put the Nomad in 'drive'," he said, pointing at a lever with various marked notches, all of them letters.

"'P' is for park, 'd' for drive, and 'r' for reverse. I forget what the 'n' one is for," he admitted happily. "Anyways, to put it in drive, push the brake down and throw that lever to 'd'," he finished.

Twilight did as he asked, the engine slowing down for a split second before puttering back up to its usual sound.

"Okay, now take your hoof off the brake," Gearrick said, smiling as his drunken mind anticipated her reaction to what was about to occur.

"Um, Gearrick...?" Twilight asked, a slight note of panic in her voice as the Nomad inched forward slowly.

"Relax, relax," he said quietly, coaxing her to remain calm. "We're barely even moving. Now you can turn it with the steering wheel. Right for right, left for left, it's really easy. Just like I said," he explained, smiling as she tested it out, turning the Nomad this way and that.

"Okay, I think I get it," she said, sounding relieved.

"Well, we're not going to get anywhere at this speed," he laughed. "Try the accelerator, but don't push it too hard. I don't want to throw up," he finished, laughing.

"Alright... Here goes," Twilight said, taking a deep breath before stepping down lightly. The Nomad sped up gently, at a perfectly reasonable pace, slowly settling at a manageable speed.

"See? Easy!" Gearrick congratulated, gazing through the windshield as Twilight edged the Nomad to the center of the road, though to be honest with himself he wasn't sure if it was the center or not. Close enough, he'd wager. "Just go however fast is comfortable, okay? I'll let you know when it's time to turn, but just follow this road for now."

"Alright..." she said, her attention clearly focused on the task at hoof.

She was a natural, as near as he could tell. She handled the Nomad just fine, not jerking the steering wheel or juggling the accelerator. She kept going at an even speed, even going a little faster as her confidence built.

Even had he been sober, Gearrick never would have known he was staring. In the lights of passing streetlamps he caught brief, bright glimpses of her. She was so focused, but even when she wasn't looking at him she was pretty. He'd thought she was pretty from the moment he'd first seen her, he knew. After all, he was a stallion, he'd have to be crazy not to have noticed. But thinking like that had always felt inappropriate, so he'd put that to the back of his mind.

Drunk him didn't care if it was appropriate, so he thought it anyways.

The first day of the contest, she had asked so many questions, the two of them had talked about so many things. It hadn't taken him long to realize she was brilliant. Sure she didn't know anything about steamtech, but she had impressed him with her knowledge of various other things, so much so that he had struggled answering some of her questions in depth.

She was clever, funny. Just fun to be around. Gearrick had had the pleasure of drinking with very few ponies, and certainly not mares. But drinking with her had been so easy, the conversation so casual. He'd been a little nervous at first, but that had quickly evaporated when it became clear they were both having a good time.

He had wanted her to have a good time, he knew. Wanted it to the exclusion of his own nervousness, and his first-sight thoughts about her. He had never been particularly good with girls, but it didn't seem to matter with her. Things were easy around her, and only got easier as he spent more time with her.

Just like learning to drive the Nomad, he thought with a chuckle, watching as she studied the road ahead intently, gently turning the steering wheel.

He really wished she wasn't just there for the festival, he realized. Wished that she would stick around, and wished that he had met her sooner. Friends were hard enough to come by as it was, but he could count on one hoof the numbers of girls he had met that he got along with, that he actually liked.

Just this one.

A street sign zipped behind her, the name on it familiar to him, even if it took him a second to recognize it. He shook his head, clearing his drunk, rambling thoughts. He wasn't really embarrassed by them, hadn't even been fully aware what he was thinking about. The memory of his musings quickly faded as he was forced to come back to reality.

"You're going to turn up ahead in two more streets," he said simply, pointing to the right side of the street.

"Alright, is turning hard?" she asked, though she didn't sound worried. She sounded like she was having fun.

Gearrick smiled, a comfortable feeling in his chest as he took in her slight smile. "Not at all."

Twilight sighed as she deposited Gearrick on the couch with her magic. He wasn't half as heavy as some of the things she was used to lifting, so it wasn't a big deal, though he certainly hadn't gotten any less drunk during the drive over. She had been worried he'd fallen asleep in the car, since he'd been so abnormally quiet for so long. But despite his drinking, he didn't seem to be very tired at all.

The only reason she had had to carry him was because stairs were simply out of the question.

"Blah, what a night," he chuckled, rolling around to get more comfortable on the couch.

"I can't imagine the hangover you're going to have tomorrow," she chuckled, taking up the remaining space on the couch.

"Me neither, I'm too drunk," he laughed, and the two of them enjoyed the simple humor together.

"Well, if there's no contest tomorrow, what are your plans?" she asked, not meaning anything by it.

"I dunno. I'll probably wake up late, since I didn't get any sleep last night, and nurse my hangover. Then I'll have to go over the Nomad," he muttered, sighing.

"Sounds like fun...?" Twilight inquired, smiling to herself as he scowled.

"Sounds like work! But it has to be done. Anyways, what are you planning on doing?" he asked, closing his eyes and throwing a foreleg across his face.

"I don't know, to be honest," she admitted, having not thought that far ahead yet this evening.

"Well, you could always hang out with me, 'cept it's probably going to be boring," he grumbled.

Twilight highly doubted that anything concerning him was ever boring, and had to admit that spending another day with him certainly sounded like a plan. Even so, it wouldn't be convenient for him. "You've got work to do, I wouldn't want to have to make you come pick me up or anything like that."

"Well how do you plan on getting home?" he asked after a short delay, that question clearly requiring some processing time to come up with.

"Well, I know a teleportation spell, so I can just jump back to the hotel," she said simply, as if it weren't a big deal.

"Sounds complicated," Gearrick admitted, sounding impressed. "If you want, you can just stay here. I'll take the couch, you can have the bed. Then you don't have to teleport, and I don't have to pick you up. Everypony wins," he said evenly, not opening his eyes.

Twilight blushed, but unlike the time at the bar it didn't seem to click in his own head that he had just offered to let her stay the night at his place.

Remembering the time at the bar only brought back that feeling of rejection. Why would he offer to let her stay so easily, after having said something like that? Did he really just think of her casually, when she thought so deeply about him? It didn't seem fair, or right.

She looked him over. He had a foreleg draped over his eyes, but a slight smile on his lips. He seemed so carefree, spoke so freely. After a moment of debating, she decided that it couldn't hurt to ask. He might not even remember it in the morning anyways.

"Gearrick...?" she asked hesitantly, blushing even though he wasn't looking at her.

He just grunted in reply, a simple affirmative that he was listening.

"At the bar, you said you didn't want to give anypony the wrong idea..." she began slowly, but she realized at length that, having gone this far, she couldn't back down. "What did you mean? You don't like the idea of ponies seeing us together?"

Gearrick lifted his leg and eyed her from underneath it, a curious expression on his face. "No, that's not what I meant at all. It seems like I say a lot of things that get jumbled," he said with an exasperated sigh.

"Then what?" she asked, slightly relieved already to hear that.

"I just meant I don't want anypony getting the wrong idea about you. Girls from out of town have a bad reputation for things like that," he admitted sheepishly. "I don't want anypony thinking of you like that, especially not because of me."

Twilight's blush deepened as she realized the chivalry in that. She had completely misunderstood, in reality he had just been defending her honor. "Why?" she asked, unable to formulate any other thought.

Gearrick smiled at her, a strange smile she didn't recognize. "Because you aren't like other girls from out of town. A lot of them really are that kind of mare, but you're different. Smart, clever, funny. Knowing you like I've come to know you, I can't imagine anyone thinking so badly of you."

Twilight's heart skipped a beat as he looked deep into her eyes, her blush burning from the words of praise, words that only moments ago would have been the last thing she expected to hear. She had been so afraid he didn't like her, but that's not what it sounded like at all!

She stumbled for something to say, trapped by her throbbing heart and his eyes, but in the end it was Gearrick who broke the silence.

"You're just too beautiful to be a mare like that," he said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Yet his tone carried a tenderness to it, the tone of something he deeply believed, and meant.

Twilight stared at him, wide-eyed and completely shocked, her breath caught and her cheeks burning.

He noted her reaction, his ears drooping. "I said something I shouldn't have again, didn't I?" he asked, sitting up and looking away from her, sighing to himself, his head in his hooves.

He had no way of knowing just how deeply those words reached her heart, how clearly Twilight could see their sincerity. Or how wonderful they felt, after the feelings she had been struggling with over him, no matter how recent they were. She knew he wasn't lying, wasn't just saying them; he was too basic in his drunken state, too open.

Unable to help herself, Twilight inched across the couch until she was in front of him, and turned his face back to her, smiling gently and blushing like mad.

"No... You said exactly what I wanted to hear," she said quietly. She kissed him suddenly, unexpectedly. Unexpected to the both of them, for she was far beyond her own control, her heart at the reins. It was just a light kiss, caught somewhere between a thank you and her heart's true desire, unsure of which side it was on.

She withdrew suddenly with a gasp. "I-I'm sorry... I didn't mean to-," she started, but he pulled her back, kissing her again. It was deeper, more full, yet not given to wild passion. Just gentle, a confirmation of her romantic leap of faith. She placed her hooves on his chest gently, leaning into him and the kiss she so badly wanted.

"Don't be sorry," he whispered, seeming somewhat unsure himself as the two of them came apart slightly. "That just means you heard it exactly like I meant it."

VI: Neither Black Nor White

The jingle of one of the glass clusters hanging from the roof ached in his ears as Gearrick opened his groggy eyes, shutting them again suddenly from the burst of light coming through the enormous window of his bedroom. He briefly, very briefly, entertained thoughts of sitting up before a quick mental run-down of his stomach cautioned him against it.

He just groaned, rubbing his front hooves across his eyes and trying to ignore the headache he had. It was like a pile of pissed off ants were hanging out at the base of his skull. He switched to rubbing his neck, daring to open his eyes again and forcing them to adjust to the light. Small steps in the grand process of hangover recovery, though sitting up was still a few more minutes off at least.

He sighed, trying to piece together his evening. He remembered leaving the bar vividly, but after that it was hard to determine the blackout point. Little flashes of the ride in the Nomad and Twilight driving came back, slowly combining to form some more thorough memories. With at least that bit figured out, he tried his best to recall what had happened after she'd dropped him off.

Vague memories of a warm feeling and a scent he couldn't fully remember gnawed at the periphery of what he was trying to recall. But between nothing solid coming up and the headache driving him mad, he didn't waste any time pondering it. Whatever it was about, it would come back to him eventually. Or not.

"I hate hangovers..." he grumbled to himself, closing his eyes again.

"Me too," came a cheery remark from behind the couch, with a cute laugh tacked on the end.

Gearrick's eyes snapped open, his heart stopped, and time followed suit. By contrast, his mind was racing.

Oh shit... That's a mare's voice...

Dreading what he would see, Gearrick tried to calm down and peeked over the back of the couch. He whipped back around immediately, trying his hardest not to freak out when he finally caught sight of the purple coat and the pink stripe running through the mane.

Oh shit... Twilight didn't go home last night... Alright, calm down Gearrick. You're on the couch, not in the bed. So nothing happened.... Right?

"Glad you're finally awake. You fell back asleep a couple of times, so I decided to just let you get up when you were ready" Twilight said happily, walking around the couch and inching closer to him.

The smile on her face wasn't quite right; nervously happy. Something had definitely happened. Gearrick hadn't kept any secrets from himself about what he thought of Twilight. He'd kind of liked her ever since he'd first laid eyes on her, cliché as it was. Sober Gearrick had too much respect for her to even say anything about those thoughts.

Blacked-out Gearrick had apparently been a bit more bold, which put sober Gearrick in a very difficult situation. Judging by her expression, bold wasn't necessarily a bad thing from Twilight's end, but if things had gone too far...

She leaned in and hugged him suddenly, gently, confirming the already overwhelming feeling that he had leapt a hurdle between them at some point the previous evening. As she rubbed her cheek against his, her scent came back to him in the form of memories from the night before. What he had said, the unexpected kiss she had given him, and his reciprocation all flooded back to him.

He was filled with a mixture of surprise, joy, and trepidation. Those memories were wonderful, and he silently applauded his drunk side for acting on instinct, though the shock of waking up to find her in his room still hadn't worn off. Remembering the words he had said to her from the night before did wonders to reassure him that the two of them hadn't gone too far, and so he allowed himself to calm down a little more, even hugging Twilight back for a brief moment before she pulled away.

She was smiling a little more normally now, and Gearrick realized she had been afraid he wouldn't remember that moment they had shared.

He sat up slowly, the sudden adrenaline having stabilized just about everything that was off-kilter for the time being, even taking the edge off the headache. Despite knowing what had happened between them and being okay with it, he didn't really know what to say now as the two of them just looked at each other. It was obvious from the silence and feeling of tension that not even Twilight had thought this far ahead, and was just as much at a loss for words as he was.

"So, I... Um... Good morning?" Gearrick finally asked at length, his total confusion fully apparent as he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, taking his eyes away from her in embarrassment.

It hadn't really been his intention, but Twilight let out a nervous laugh at how ridiculous he sounded, one that quickly grew warmer and more sincere as the tension broke at last. Her laughter helped relieve Gearrick's nerves as well, a slight smile coming to his face.

"So, do you remember last night?" Twilight asked, apparently not convinced one way or the other yet as she blushed, awaiting his answer.

"It's a little fuzzy, but I remember," he said with a shaky smile. "At least I remember kissing you... Everything's a blur after that," he said cautiously, as if he both expected, and really wished there wouldn't be, bad news.

Twilight sighed in relief, letting out a pent-up giggle from her leftover nerves. She'd finally heard what she'd been wondering all morning. "That's because right after that you fell asleep. Well, not right after... I... Well, we just kind of..." she stammered, blushing and gesturing vaguely. She closed her eyes and squared her shoulders a little, braving up for what she had to say. "After you fell asleep, I stayed with you on the couch for a little while," she admitted, as if she were confessing a crime. "B-but I went to bed right after. Thank you for letting me have the bed, by the way," she finished lamely, sighing and shaking her head at her less-than-impressive speech.

It was Gearrick's turn to laugh as he extracted himself from the couch, standing tall and smiling happily. He'd heard all he needed to now, to know that he hadn't gone too far with her and done something he would have regretted. Everything he'd heard from her so far... well, he was more than alright with it. Hell, he was ecstatic, now that the sense of worry was gone.

He reached a hoof around the back of her neck, pulling her closer into another gentle hug, pressing his cheek against hers, and smiling as the heat from her nervous blush filtered through her coat.

"Hey," he whispered in her ear, his lone chuckle bringing a smile he felt but couldn't see to her face. "Don't worry about that. I don't mind it at all."

"Then... Can we?" she whispered back, hugging around his neck.

Gearrick didn't have any trouble figuring out what she meant as he ran a hoof gently down her neck. Just to be with him, close to him. Nothing strange, or wrong; just the simple joy of knowing it hadn't been a fluke, that they really were exploring feelings for one another.

He smiled to himself as he pulled back from the embrace, looking into her hopeful eyes. It was going to be a busy day, with a lot of work to be done on the Nomad, but he couldn't remember her laying next to him, holding him close. He wouldn't sleep it away this time.

Without a word he turned and laid back down, getting comfortable again before patting the space next to him, a calm smile in place.

Smiling excitedly, Twilight climbed onto the couch next to him, wrapping her forelegs around his neck and pressing close so that she wouldn't be hanging off the edge. She rested her head against his chest, the smile fading to one of simple warmth and enjoyment.

He hugged her to himself gently, as much to hold her in place as just to hold her. He closed his eyes again, but not sleepily; just comfortably as he rested his own chin gently against the top of her head. She was so warm and soft, her scent was wonderful. With his eyes closed, it was as if he were lost in a world of just her.

Gearrick almost wondered if this were strange. If they were doing things right, or moving too fast.

Almost.

Myla sat fidgeting on her end of the chess board. The room around her and her sister was white. It was always white, with not a speck of color, except for the chairs and the chessboard, and its two players.

"Knight to 'E' seven," Phyla said, her voice empty of any trace of emotion.

Myla watched with a scowl as her bishop was taken, the same way it seemed to happen almost every time she and her sister had to play. "I hate this stupid game," she grumbled, moving a piece without even giving the action a single thought. "I don't want to play anymore."

"You know that we have to," Phyla replied simply, taking a pawn with her queen. "Check."

"I give up. You win," Myla grumbled, tipping her king over.

"You always give up. Why do you always surrender?" Phyla asked.

"It's not like I can beat you, so at least I can rob you of the satisfaction of a good challenge. If I have to hate this stupid game, then you should too," she said irately.

"There's no need to be angry," Phyla said, her tone taking on a subtle hint of tenderness.

"There's plenty of cause to be angry!" Myla shot back, fuming much more than she was letting on. "You always win, and it's not like I can. That's why you always get to do what you want, and I never get to do what I want..."

"Sister..." Phyla began, emotion present in her eyes that never made it to her words.

"I hate us," Myla said suddenly, tears brimming at her eyes. "Why us? Why are we like this?"

"I do not like it, either, but it isn't our choice. Discord is the one responsible for all of this," Phyla said, standing from the chess table. "If you like, I will let you win again tomorrow, but today there are things I need to take care of."

"Fine. Let me win. Always have to help the stupid, emotional sister. Not smart enough, not good enough!" Myla growled, even as Phyla turned her back and walked away.

"You should know I never felt that way," Phyla shot back, her voice icy cold.

"And how would I know that?" Myla asked angrily, but despite her frustrated tone, tears were brimming in her eyes. "You never say anything; always thinking, and never doing. Even when you do talk, it's like there's no one in there. How should I know how you feel, if you never feel anything?"

Phyla stopped walking, and Myla caught the telltale whispers of a fading sigh. "You should know, because you are my sister. Even if I cannot feel the same way that I used to before all of this, we both know what it is like to love our sister, don't we?"

Myla bit back her angry, hurt retort, unable to argue that. She did love Phyla. The one she hated was Discord, for doing what he had to the both of them. "I know... Fine, you go and do whatever it is you have to do. I'll just wait until it's my turn to enjoy myself, like a good little girl. Like I always do."

Phyla started walking again, sighing once more. "I'm sorry, Myla. I'll be back soon," she promised, vanishing suddenly from the small, white room with the chessboard.

Myla sighed as well, sniffing back tears. The white walls grew into darker and darker shades of grey, until at last they simply turned black, leaving her in a room completely shrouded in shadow.

"I'll just be here," she muttered. "Waiting, in the dark."

Mick pressed the button for his intercom, which was blinking a red light at him. "What is it, Melody?" he asked calmly, taking a pull on his cigar.

"There's a mare here to see you Mr. Magnet. Her name is Phyla, and she says she doesn't have an appointment," crackled his secretary's voice from the speakers.

Mick nearly choked on a gasping pull from the cigar, glad that the system was designed so that he couldn't be heard unless he was pressing the button. When he had recovered, he pressed the intercom again, still sounding like his throat were pinched. "Send her up immediately," he said sternly.

"Yes sir, Mr. Magnet," Melody replied, the intercom hanging up with a click.

"God damn her," Mick grumbled, looking around his office and puffing on the cigar more normally. "I told her never to come calling at work. The last thing I need is for ponies to start figuring out she works for me..."

More smoke trailed from his nostrils as he calmed himself down, shutting his eyes and taking a sip from a waiting whiskey glass. He stuck the cigar in his mouth but just settled for chewing on it as he glanced around. Everything was cast in bronze, it seemed. His trophy case, the corners of his desk, the back of his thick, red-cushioned chair. Even the matching red rug under his ornate desk was lined in gold thread.

The executive office of the Gearbox Guild headquarters certainly was something, and why shouldn't it be? After all, he was the owner of the most industrious company in the world. Even those newly revealed changeling bastards didn't have anything like what he had, though supposedly they were some kind of world superpower. Royal orders had come down for a few more train engines to be built, for new lines that were being run out to the west.

Trains were good money, and the Royal Treasury would gladly pay more than most without ever knowing it, if Mick fiddled with the prices ahead of time. It didn't matter where they were sending the damned things; changeling lands, hell, even into the mountains for dragons for all he cared. All that mattered was that somepony needed a train, and they'd pay him to build one.

He sighed contentedly, his nerves calmed at last over Phyla's latest little tactless move. He was even smiling by the time she sidled through the heavy bronze door to his office.

"You wanted to see me about Tinkermane," she stated simply, closing it behind her.

"Yes, but not here," Mick scolded idly around the butt of his cigar. "I've told you plenty of times not to come around here. You're supposed to be working for me secretly, not at my headquarters," he grumbled, pulling the cigar out of his mouth, and sipping from the whiskey glass.

"It doesn't matter, we have never been caught anyways," Phyla said with a scowl. "To the point, please. Business only."

Mick scowled, not accustomed to being bossed around. Sadly, this was just how Phyla worked, so he had to cope with it. "Business," Mick echoed at length, setting his glass down and popping open a drawer in his desk. Out of the large pocket he pulled a briefcase, locked tight with a custom-built combination lock, Mick's own design. Without another word, he simply tossed the sealed case over his desk, where it slid across the carpet to her hooves.

"The combination is the same as always. Leave it where you normally do when you've emptied it," he said quietly, turning his large swivel chair about.

"It's triple?" she asked, for the sound of bits had reached her ears the minute the brown package had bounced off the carpet.

"Like we agreed, yes. Tomorrow is the third stage, and it would be simplest to eliminate Gearrick then. The design review weeds even the best inventions out for flaws, so it wouldn't raise suspicion. Nothing dirty, or overt, no exploding steam tanks. Break a strut, botch a weld, I don't care. I just want him removed from the contest cleanly," Mick finished by popping the cigar to the other side of his mouth and taking a long pull, huffing the smoke out his nose. "He's too popular for us to cause anything extreme without being found out. I trust you to handle this, so that I don't have to."

"Understood," Phyla said simply, picking up the case and setting it across her back, balancing it easily. "When? I think the morning would work best."

Mick pondered that, then smiled. "No, hit him tonight. Just make sure that whatever you do doesn't make it impossible for him to drive it. He still has to show up at the contest, after all. Then once he's out, I can see about buying the blueprint of that contraption off of him," he mused, turning his chair fully around, an obvious signal that the business was concluded.

"Whatever you like," Phyla said emptily, and the next sound Mick heard was the opening and closing of his office door.

He smiled to himself as he hit a button under his desk, metal blinds sliding aside and revealing the midday sun glinting off the city below. His office was just below the Veil, the haze of ever-present steam hanging over the city, offering him the view of a king, along with the feeling that he could reach out and touch the sky.

"It's nice to have everything under control," he chuckled, raising his whiskey glass in a toast to his reflection in the window.

Gearrick blinked himself awake, not too terribly surprised to find that he had dozed off. His default reaction to having a headache was usually to just go back to bed. Accompanied by his living, purple blanket, that notion had come to him a little easier than usual.

He smiled to himself as he did his best not to move too much. Twilight had drifted off too, and was still sleeping in his embrace. She certainly looked peaceful, eyes closed and not a care in the world to show on her face as her breathing went gently back and forth. She had somehow managed to press even closer to him by curling herself up slightly, a feat he hadn't thought was physically possible. Despite the improved proximity, everything was still comfortable.

She seemed more beautiful when she was asleep. Perhaps it was simply because when she was like this, he had nothing to be embarrassed about when thinking such things. He could look at her without worry. Worry of what wasn't something he could figure an answer to, but he knew for a fact that looking at her like this was private. Not shady, like spying, but she was simply his to observe in this way, without even her own opinion of herself to influence his thoughts.

She murmured something quietly and snuggled her face into his chest again, it having drifted just a few inches off course.

Chuckling to himself, Gearrick decided to risk some gentle contact that he hoped wouldn't wake her. He gently ran a hoof up and down her back, laying back down as he continued to do so. She didn't react much to his touch, but there were subtle signs that she felt it, like the subconscious smile starting to play at the corners of her mouth.

He smiled as well, quietly wondering what she might be dreaming about. He stayed with her a short while longer, before a look out the window told him it was time to get up. Being pinned to the back of the couch made leaving without waking her a little more difficult than it needed to be, but Gearrick's crafty mind quickly came up with a solution.

Using his magic, he lifted them both as they were. No sense of gravity intruded through the copper glow, and in fact it felt as if nothing had changed at all. He smiled to himself as he rolled the pair of them over in the air, before setting himself and his passenger back down gently. After the aerial maneuvering, Twilight was the one with her back to the couch now. She hadn't reacted throughout the whole thing, her steady, slow breathing completely uninterrupted.

Smile still in place, he slowly extracted himself from her. She didn't have her forelegs wrapped around him anymore, but tucked up to her chest between them instead, which made things somewhat simpler. He wiggled one of his own out from under her, and quietly rolled off the couch. She murmured something else, but didn't move much, other than to curl up more tightly.

Realizing that the absence of his body-heat would eventually get noticed, Gearrick magicked a blanket over from his bed, draping it over her. He allowed himself a breathless laugh as she seemed to relax again, the warmth of the blanket offsetting his sudden departure. Unable to help himself, he leaned down and brushed his lips against the soft, warm coat on her cheek, before at last he turned and departed from the couch, and the bedroom at large.

Confident that she would still be asleep for a while, he decided to take a shower before going on the hunt for breakfast somewhere down the street. He headed to the second office on the left, popping the door open with a rough smack. It had no doorknob, and it needed to be sanded down to better fit in its frame, but as long as hitting it still worked, Gearrick couldn't find any reason to fix it.

The inside of the room, on the other hoof, held the telltale sign of his personal modifications. The floorboards were covered corner to corner with oiled canvas, to repel any water and keep them from rotting. The old desk that had been left behind was up against one wall, and had been converted into a counter top, complete with a sink and a mirror on the wall above it.

The standing shower in the corner was made out of carefully reconstructed barrel wood, from the old shipments of ink the press had received. The wood was treated and waterproof, and assembling the slightly-curved slats into a roughly-square shower box had taken some time, but at least it didn't leak.

He'd managed to get most of the piping he needed by rerouting the fire suppression system from the office area, so he had running water. As for the drainage, he had piped it through the floor and then out the side of the warehouse, tying straight into the rain runoff from the roof, which ran into a storm drain in the alley out back.

He chuckled to himself every time he looked at it. All in all, it actually looked rather nice, the wooden shower, canvas floor, and desk-sink. He prided himself on being able to get by no matter what he was given, and this was a prime example. Who would have thought to turn the fire sprinklers into a sink and shower? The suppression system upstairs wasn't really all that vital, considering that the one below was still intact, and that's where most of the danger of fire came from.

Contentedly proud with his work, as always, he hopped in, closing the canvas curtain behind him. He went through his morning routine, trimming back the coat on his jaw, which daily threatened to grow into a beard. After getting out of the shower and brushing his teeth, he was ready for the day. Almost ready, he noted, as his mane looked far too orderly in the mirror. He dashed his front hooves back and forth through it, ruffling it into its usual, spiky layout.

With the minor matter of his appearance settled, he poked his head back into his bedroom. Twilight was supposedly still sleeping, because he couldn't see her anywhere else in the room. Satisfied, he made his way downstairs and out onto the street.

He swung by a bakery on the corner, getting a decent assortment of things. He wasn't really sure what Twilight would want for breakfast, but for his part a couple doughnuts were all his grumbling stomach desired. He tore into one on the way back, pleased to find the glazed treat still steaming on the inside.

The sun was out, and some gulls were zipping up and down the riverbank, looking to scoop up any minnows hanging out by the bank wall, the sky beyond the haze of steam from the power plant crystal blue. Gearrick sighed contentedly as he paused outside the warehouse, taking it all in.

"It's going to be a good day," he said with a smile, heading back inside.

Twilight woke to her stomach grumbling, and the sound of a paper bag rustling as she propped herself up. The bag slid from the blanket draped over her and dropped lightly off the edge of the couch, landing right-side-up. The smells wafting from it made her stomach grumble again, and picking it up with her magic she peered into its aromatic depths. Inside were various doughnuts, muffins, and something that looked like a piece of cinnamon toast at the bottom.

Also inside was a note, which she pulled out along with a blueberry muffin. She chewed on her breakfast slowly, reading the short, barely legible script.

Hey, sorry if I'm not there when you wake up, but here's breakfast. Shower's second door on the left, should be plenty of soap and stuff. I'll be downstairs working on the Nomad all evening, so come and join me whenever you're ready.

It wasn't signed or anything, not that it needed to be. Twilight smiled as she dropped the note with her magic, turning the blueberry muffin over in her hooves. "He's such a sweetheart," she said with a disbelieving shake of her head, taking another bite. She never would have expected him to go out of his way for her like that, even after the recent events. Still, that was just how he was all the time, it seemed. Always going out of his way and not even having much to say about it, she thought with a laugh, looking at the paltry, three line letter he had left behind.

She leaned back comfortably, just thinking and finishing her muffin. So what did all this mean? Were they dating? Technically they'd already been on a few dates, so maybe. Maybe there wasn't even a word for what was going on between them, but Twilight was just content that it was in line with what she had wanted.

Things were moving pretty quickly now, but that was mostly her fault. Nothing would seem so sudden if she hadn't done something sudden herself, she realized. Still, it didn't feel weird or anything, and she was glad she'd gotten to it sooner rather than later. After all, she would have to leave after the contest, and get back to her duties at the library.

She sighed to herself as that thought dug in. Either way she would have to leave, but at least now she could leave knowing he felt the same way. If she'd waited, or not said anything, she never would have known. But the idea of leaving so soon, after everything had worked out like that... it almost felt worse to think about than wondering what would have happened if she had never told him.

"I hope this is what Applejack meant about listening to my heart," she muttered quietly. With one final sigh, she let those thoughts go. It was only Wednesday, she had the whole rest of the week to spend with him and figure out what she wanted to do. And besides, she could come back anytime, he had said so himself.

She ended up eating one of the doughnuts also, and unable to find a trashcan she just stuffed her muffin wrapper back in the bag before sealing it up and setting it on top of a table next to the bed. Judging by the light outside, it was probably two or three in the afternoon now. The napping didn't really surprise her; she'd spent most of the night fighting sleep just so she could stay cuddled next to Gearrick. She had cautioned herself against sleeping next to him, thinking that might have been a bit too far.

Apparently it wasn't.

With a smile to herself, she followed the directions to the shower. She went to brush her teeth once she was all dried off, but realized her toothbrush was still at the hotel. She spent a few moments looking from Gearrick's toothbrush to the door and back, until finally she gave up on it and simply headed for the stairs.

Sounds of clinking metal and a muffled curse brought a small smile to her lips before she had even rounded the landing. Once she was at the bottom of the stairs, all she could see were his back legs sticking out from underneath the Nomad, his tail swishing this way and that as his forelegs did some unseen work under the vehicle. Another clang and whispered chunk of foul language made her giggle, which caused his tail to freeze.

Moments later he popped out from underneath the Nomad, sliding on a little wooden slat with wheels. Despite the fact that he had already showered for the day, he was now covered in soot, grease, and what was most likely water slicking his coat this way and that and giving him various stripes and spots. The momentum of his push off the Nomad had his little slider spinning a slight turn and heading her way.

He came to rest with his mane brushing up against her front hooves, dragging one of his back ones to slow the slider just before hitting her. He was smirking, his hooves behind his head as he just looked up at her from his place on the floor. "Nice of you to join me," he chuckled, tapping the wrench he had in one hoof on the floor.

Twilight smiled, unable to deny how oddly cool that little maneuver with the slider had been, cool being a thing years with Rainbow Dash had taught her to understand. "Well, I had a note delivered that told me to come down here. Anyways, thank you for breakfast," she said with a smile, nudging his head with a hoof. "By the way, what's the point of taking a shower if you're just going to get covered in grease anyways?"

Gearrick just scowled at her. "What's wrong with taking two showers? It's my shower, I can have as many as I want."

Twilight had to think that over for a moment before she just gave up, laughing. "I suppose you can. Does that mean I can too?" she asked, smiling slyly.

"Well yeah, but why?" Gearrick asked in reply, eying her curiously.

"Well, I'm probably going to get covered in grease too if I lend you a hoof, right?" she giggled, magicking the wrench out of his hoof and waving it around slightly.

Gearrick just shook his head and laughed. "A girl who wants to get covered in grease..." he muttered, smudging a little puddle of the stuff that he had on his chest even as he said it.

"What's wrong with that?" Twilight asked, scowling.

"Nothing, nothing at all. Just reminds me of my mentor, that's all. Anyways, here," Gearrick chuckled, pulling over another one of the sliders. "Your very own modified newspaper cart. Now then, I'll take that," he said, his inflection going up as he yanked the wrench back out of her magic. "Mind doing me a favor and giving me a push?" he asked, pointing with one of his back legs back to the Nomad.

Twilight smiled mischievously and gave his cart a heavy shove with her magic, thinking to startle him. But instead of overreacting, he simply put his empty front hoof down and spun the slider around until he was facing head first, dragging his back hooves to slow his passage back under the Nomad until he ended up roughly where he had been when she'd come down the stairs.

"Now you definitely remind me of Tacks," came a muffled chuckle from under the machine, followed by the sound of a bolt being turned.

Slightly impressed by his control, Twilight got onto her own slider. Her awe at his handling of the thing doubled as she came to realize it was not an easy thing to pilot, often times scooting some obscure direction instead of where she was trying to get. At last she inched up next to him under the Nomad, the smell of grease and the sharp, metallic tinge in the air almost making her sneeze, but the sensation went away after a moment.

She watched quietly for a few moments as he continued loosening the bolt he was working on. It popped free suddenly, causing Twilight to jump at the unexpected release, the bolt coming down with a rather large gear close behind.

Gearrick didn't flinch, just deftly caught both the bolt and gear with his magic, setting them aside. "Scared you, didn't I?" he chuckled, taking a brush and dipping it in a grease can next to him, slathering the teeth of other gears above him, revealed in the removed gear's absence.

"Surprised me a little," she admitted. "So, what does that piece do?" she asked, pointing to the gear next to her, though unable to arrange herself comfortably to do so.

"It's the primary gear for the turning mechanism," he explained, setting the brush down and fitting the gear back into place before reinserting the bolt and tightening it back down. "It seemed like the steering column was catching a little on the way to the bar last night, so I figured I'd have a look. Sure enough, these ones needed to be re-greased, but it should be good now."

"Well what else do you need to check?" Twilight asked, smiling as she looked at the various gears and pipes in front of her. There certainly were a lot of them, and she had trouble imagining he had built this in just two years.

"Pretty much everything," he said with a sigh, passing the wrench to her unexpectedly. "See that bolt?" he asked, outlining it with his magic so that she could pinpoint it. "Mind making sure that's tightened down for me?"

Twilight was ecstatic to be allowed to help, and she hummed to herself while Gearrick kept on talking, working the wrench with her magic and battening the bolt down.

"After climbing the wall, I have to make sure the suspension didn't get tweaked at all, and ensure that all the bolts holding the wheels on are still alright. There's a lot I need to check after running those first tests on the all-terrain systems, so it's going to be a long night. I'm not really worried about the design review, to be honest, but I want to make sure the Nomad's running smooth as can be, and that none of the rings I put her through did any damage," he huffed, sliding a few feet away from Twilight and poking at a scorched copper box, one of six on the rear of the vehicle.

"Oh, I get it," Twilight said, setting the wrench down. "Anyways, are those the engines you designed?"

"Yep, and engine one is showing even less wear than I thought, considering it's the one I use most," he said fondly, patting the copper tank with a clanging sound.

"So, Gearrick," Twilight started, smiling to show it was more of a casual thought, "when you said I remind you of your mentor, what did you mean?"

Gearrick smiled back, clearly fond of some memory. "Nothing bad. I could tell before you even said anything that you wanted to help out with the Nomad. You had the same look in your eye that she had whenever she started on something new. Not to mention, shoving my slider... Pretty classic Tacks," he chuckled. "You're a lot like her."

Twilight smiled, sensing a tenderness behind his words that made her feel glad to share so much in common with Brass Tacks. "Well, you're not like anypony I've ever met," she said quietly, not really thinking about it.

"And what do you mean by that?" Gearrick asked, his tone full of mock anger.

Twilight just chuckled to herself, picking up the next tool that he had magicked her way. "Nothing bad."

The two of them worked all afternoon, tightening bolts and checking couplings. Gearrick put the suspension to the test at one point in a rather unceremonious fashion, picking the entire Nomad up and dropping it about a foot, while Twilight watched with wide-eyed concern.

At last the sun was going down, and it seemed like the list of things to do was getting shorter and shorter, at least for Twilight.

"Alright, I need to check the engines still, and there's not much you can do to help me out with that," he said, sounding disappointed that he had to sit her out. "Are you heading back to the hotel tonight?"

Twilight hadn't really thought about that, so she just shrugged as Gearrick mopped his face with a nearby rag. "I probably should," she admitted.

"Well... I know the place isn't much, but why not just stay here?" Gearrick offered, smiling. "You already did for one night, after all. The bed might not be as comfortable, but at least it's free. Besides, I don't know about you, but it seems like we'd be spending all of our time together anyways," he finished, the last bit coming with a less-than-confident smirk.

Twilight was a little taken aback by the offer. Stay here, for the rest of the contest? That was three more days at least, and she probably wouldn't even leave until Sunday. "Are you sure?" she asked, excited at the prospect. It showed in her tone, which she realized with a blush.

Gearrick just smiled. "Yes I'm sure. I still don't want anyone getting the wrong idea about you, but... If anypony says anything, I'll straighten them out," he said with a chuckle.

Twilight smiled happily, her heart doing back flips. Even if she did have to leave in three days, she could at least spend all of them with him, dawn to dusk. "I'd love to," she admitted. "I'd just need to get my things and cancel my stay at the hotel."

Gearrick smiled, using one of his hooves to smear a patch of grease on her coat; just one of many she had acquired. "Before you go and take care of that, might want to wash up," he teased.

Twilight just laughed, heading for the stairs. A few minutes later she was back down, only to catch Gearrick back at work on the Nomad. She started heading for the door, thinking to let him work and just take care of it herself.

"Do you need a ride? This can wait," he called out, surprising her by even acknowledging her leaving.

"No, you keep working. I can just teleport there and back quick, it's just one bag," she said with a smile. "It won't take long."

"If you insist," he replied skeptically, clearly not feeling right about sending her herself.

"I'll pick up dinner while I'm out, too," she added suddenly.

"You don't need to do that," he started, but Twilight cut him off with a scowl.

"You've bought my food plenty of times, and you're letting me stay with you. I think I can handle dinner," she said, rolling her eyes.

Gearrick sighed and shrugged, clearly defeated. "Alright, on behalf of my stomach I won't stop you," he chuckled, turning back to the Nomad and wrenching something.

Satisfied, Twilight closed her eyes, concentrating on her destination. Then in a flash of purple she was gone, leaving her tinker to his tweaking.

Myla sat at the chessboard, waiting as Phyla walked closer. Once her sister was seated, she cleared her throat. "So, how did it go?"

Phyla sighed. "Magnet is an idiot. He wants us to work on Tinkermane tonight instead of tomorrow morning," she said idly, sliding her chair in.

Myla did her best to conceal her emotional response, and was glad to find Phyla looking more at the board than at her. "Tonight?"

"Yes, tonight," Phyla said quietly. "That means you can have control tomorrow, but tonight I need it."

"Right, right," Myla sighed. "I suppose that means you won't let me win?" she pouted.

"I can't this time. I am sorry," Phyla replied, moving a pawn to start the game.

"And I can't let you handle this one, I'm afraid," Myla replied with a suddenly wicked smile, moving her own pawn.

"What do you mean?" Phyla asked, not liking, but not reacting, to Myla's devilish grin. She played her next move, crossing a knight out next to her pawn.

"I want to handle Tinkermane myself," Myla said coldly, moving a bishop out in reply.

"I'm sorry, but you can't beat me. You never have," Phyla replied, her tone somewhat sad. "And this job is important."

"That's a funny thing about logic, isn't it?" Myla asked with a chuckle, moving again. "How you can't lie. Lying makes no sense, does it?"

"What are you talking about?" Phyla shivered, suddenly feeling as if she were freezing. It was Myla's eyes, strangely cold and clever.

"You wouldn't even know a lie if you saw one. Don't you think it's strange... how in five years of playing this stupid game I've never gotten any better?" Myla asked, chuckling as she moved another piece.

It was clear what was happening. Just by looking at the board, Phyla could tell that she was losing. All this time Myla had been biding her time, saving her best tricks for when she absolutely had to wrest control from Phyla, and faking her lack of skill.

"All these years..." Phyla said quietly, moving a piece. But her move was hesitant, her hoof shook slightly from emotion she felt but couldn't show.

"That's right," Myla chuckled, placing Phyla in check. "For a while now, I've been the one letting you win."

A pounding came from the front of the workshop. Gearrick turned from his work on the Nomad, eyes fixing on the door to the warehouse. Twilight couldn't be back already, she'd only left five minutes ago. Anyways, she would have known better than to knock, so who the heck could it be?

"Coming!" he called, doing his best to wipe himself off with the rag real quick before trotting over to the door. He pulled it open slowly, a curious expression on his face as he eyed his visitor. Outside stood a black mare with silver spots and a midnight blue mane, a pony he'd never seen before.

She looked at him with eyes too full, and of what he hadn't the slightest clue. She seemed barely contained on his doorstep, kneading her front hooves. He couldn't tell if she was in some kind of trouble, but a quick glance behind her didn't afford him a view of anypony chasing her or anything.

"Can I help you?" he asked kindly.

"Oh, I think you can," she replied slyly, giving him a warm smile.

Gearrick blushed, hoping that he was just mistaking the way she had said that. It didn't help that he knew what he had heard, and matters were further complicated by the fact that she was beautiful in every sense of the word. That smile stunned him, left him speechless.

"But first, I'm here to help you," she cooed, inching closer, but not passing the threshold of his door.

"W-whatever help you're talking about, I'm pretty sure I'm fine," Gearrick stammered, recovering suddenly.

"Oh, I'm sure you're not," she chuckled, her sultry tone gone and replaced with an amused one. "See, the Gearbox Guild is after you... And I'm the girl they sent for the job. Or one of them, rather," she said simply, flipping her hair and smiling smugly.

Gearrick was again speechless. The Gearbox Guild, after him? That wasn't really surprising, not considering his success the previous year, but if she was the one they sent, what the hell was she doing telling him?

"Can I come in?" she asked pleasantly, all but trotting in place while awaiting his answer.

Gearrick had to think very hard about that. Even if she was with the Gearbox Guild, what harm could she do if he kept his eyes on her? She was just one pony. "I suppose?" he replied, asking it as much as allowing it.

She squealed with delight, zipping past him and dashing over to the Nomad.

"Don't touch anything," he growled suddenly, thinking that perhaps his prized invention was in danger. His heart did a dead drop when she winced, as if he had slapped her.

"I won't," she replied meekly, backing away from it a few steps. "Just because they sent me here to wreck it doesn't mean I'm going to..."

Gearrick sighed, sure he was being played the sucker. "Sorry. Then why are you here?" he asked, doing his best to keep the frustration out of his tone. If she was working for the Gearbox Guild, the cute act would only get her so far.

"Why, to warn you, of course," Myla replied. "My name is Myla. My sister, Phyla, is the one who's actually working for the guild. I'm more of a free agent," she said at length, trotting away, her flank swaying gracefully. "I have my own reasons for thwarting the guild, so we won't get into that. Now is there someplace more comfortable we can talk, or are you going to make a lady stand in a grease pile?" she asked with a pout.

Gearrick let out a groan that turned into a growl of frustration as he ran a hoof across his face. "Let's assume for even half a second that I believe you. What is there left to talk about?"

"Well for starters, how about how I can protect you and your invention until the contest is over? After that, the guild won't have any reason to come after you. It's all about the contest, you know. I've got all the details," Myla bragged, shaking her mane about. "So how about it?"

Gearrick scowled, clearly displeased with how this was going. "Alright, fine. Upstairs, we can talk there," he grumbled, doing his best to temper the nervous feeling he had about this mare. He could handle her if she tried anything with the Nomad, and on her own he doubted she could do any damage he couldn't fix.

What worried him more was how she was acting.

The two of them entered his bedroom, the couch and bed being the only seating in the building. She completely lost track of him, fawning over his little artistic creations, messing with the glass bundles, kind of like how Twilight had done. That correlation only made Gearrick feel more uneasy as he watched the beautiful mare gallivant about his bedroom.

"So, about protecting me and all these details you claim you know," he said, mustering the sternest tone he could.

"No need to be so uptight," she huffed, plopping down on the couch and looking out the window. She rubbed the seat next to her, smiling. "Come sit with me," she pleaded.

"If I do, will you tell me?" he asked, his frustration only growing. The nervous feeling was growing as well, begging him to throw her out and be done with it. But if she really did have information that would help keep his beloved Nomad safe, he needed to hear it.

"Yes," she said simply, patting the seat again.

With a sigh, Gearrick sat down next to her.

"Alright, so," she started, still looking out the window. "First, my orders usually come from Phyla. Not tonight though, I managed to get away," she chuckled. "Hers, on the other hoof, come straight from Mick Magnet, Gearbox Guild founder."

Gearrick looked a little shocked at that. He had always suspected it had more to do with the engineers who actually competed, and never would have assumed that it went straight to the top.

"My sister was instructed to take you out quietly in the third stage, so the fact that I'm even talking to you about it means that the mission has failed," she giggled, fixing him with a smooth smile. "All that means is that my sister didn't get you this time. Mick needs Phyla to do his dirty work for him, he can't afford being caught. It would cost him everything, and that's good news for you," she said, scooting closer to him on the couch.

Causing Gearrick to scoot further into the arm of the sofa. "And how is that good news?" he asked, his nervousness getting worse, practically pleading with him to flee.

"Because I can't stop Mick... but I can stop Phyla," Myla explained, now leaning into his shoulder, smiling as if nothing were wrong. "But if you want me to protect your precious little Nomad, there's something I want in return," she said, her front hooves sliding up his chest slowly as she climbed onto the couch. She straddled him suddenly, her smile and the lewd gleam in her eyes far too forward to be mistaken at all.

Gearrick's heart was pounding like a drum, and he now regretted letting her in, and he regretted it for reasons he never would have expected. "W-what would that be?" he asked, hoping, foolishly hoping, that even this far into it he was wrong about what she wanted. He was paralyzed, pinned by his confusion and the suddenness of the situation as much as the fact that she was climbing all over him.

"Can't you tell...?" she half-sang, running her hoof gently up and down his chest as she held his gaze, locked in her violet eyes. "What I want is you."

Even if Gearrick had a reply ready, he never would have had time to say it as Myla fell into him, kissing him deeply.

VII: Put to the Test

Gearrick's brain wasn't working very hard, still doing its best to catch up with the situation as Myla's lips finally parted from his, the beautiful young mare pulling back even less than an inch and smiling smugly as if waiting for his reply.

All of the shallowness of his male being knew that she was beautiful, and wanted that. But everything that made him a gentlecolt rebelled against it. He didn't know her name, he didn't feel anything for this mare, and he didn't understand any of what was going on.

There was everything with Twilight now, he recalled, finally beginning to think instead of just react. No matter how pretty this mare was, he had his budding relationship with Twilight. Infinitely deeper, with more possibility than a night of passion. It never even crossed his mind that she would be returning soon, only that the mare sitting atop him and brushing her lips against his to coax a kiss out of him wasn't what he wanted.

She wasn't there to wreck the Nomad... only to destroy something that was just as important to him.

Myla stopped her teasing act with a look of surprise as a hoof pressed firmly into her chest, pushing her back. Her fur stood on end suddenly as she looked down into Gearrick's face.

It was a mask of carefully contained anger, his scowl and the subtle twitch at the corner of his nose showing just how deep that displeasure ran, a barely controlled desire to bare his teeth at her. The realization of what this situation really was had kindled his normally carefree spirit into a passionate fire, and not the kind Myla had been hoping for, he knew.

"Get off of me," he said sternly, his tone holding no bite other than a sense of foreboding that sent a visible shiver up Myla's spine. That coldness was the obvious calm before a storm, a storm she was about to call down if she wasn't compliant. Gearrick would never hit a mare, but he wasn't above throwing her out.

Myla practically tumbled off the couch in her haste, her face showing confusion and worry. She backed away from him to the far end of the couch, not looking at him as he got up, the fierce look in his eyes, the anger, clearly not having abated in the slightest despite her obedience.

"Get out of my house," he commanded coldly, glaring at her. He was not in the mood for a debate.

She looked back at him finally, tears in her eyes as if he had slapped her. But it did nothing to him, not a twinge in his heart. His anger was too justified and ran too deep to feel remorse for the tears of this mare. "But... I..." she replied weakly, sniffling through the words.

"Get. Out," Gearrick dictated, his tone now taking on a bite of clear anger, no longer cold and empty.

"No!" Myla shouted suddenly, tears flecking away from her eyes as she shook her head. "You need me!" Her own face now seemed caught between the sorrow she had been clearly showing only moments before, and anger.

"I don't even know you," Gearrick growled back.

She took another step back, her face shocked. It took her a few moments to recover, her heavy breathing turning to tears again. "You... you don't recognize me?" she asked quietly.

"I've never seen you in my life," Gearrick said with a glare. "And I never want to again."

"But you have to remember me!" she shouted, walking closer and pointing a hoof in his face, her own twitching with combat between anger and her tears. "I always remembered you! I loved you from the first time I ever laid eyes on you, and even after all of that happened to me and Phyla, I only loved you more!" she screamed, getting right up in his face, clearly more angry than sad now.

Gearrick didn't react, his own conviction and anger too strong to so much as blink. "I don't know you."

"I don't care!" she fumed, pushing him roughly, though she was badly off balance and had almost no chance of moving him. In the end she was the one who stumbled for it, Gearrick having only taken a half-step back for all her fuss. "I don't care... You still need me. The guild... I can... We could..." she sobbed, laying where she had stumbled to, and not looking at him.

"I'm not afraid of the guild," Gearrick said fiercely. "I'm not afraid of your sister. I don't care about winning this contest if it means letting you walk in here and ruin the first great thing in my life since I got to this damned city!" he shouted, raising his voice at last, tired of being shouted at. "I don't need you to protect me from them. If anything I need to protect myself from you!" he growled.

She was still crying on the floor, all the harder as he yelled at her. "I know..." she sniffed, doing her best to stem her tears to talk. "I know you don't need me... You've always been clever, you always come out on top. It's what I love about you most. It's me. I'm the one who needs you to need me. You could take your whole life on without anypony's help, but every little girl has a dream of going through hers with a stallion like you," she finished quietly, almost too quietly for him to hear.

Gearrick didn't know what to make of that. Her words ached a little even through the armor of his anger, which confused him. The confusion quickly abated though as he realized she had played him like a fool to get him into this situation in the first place, and he wasn't going to let her do it again.

"If you won't leave, then I'll make you," he said coldly, his outburst from a moment ago now spent, the anger contained once more. "I'm done asking nicely. Leave my workshop."

Myla rose slowly, her face hidden from a waterfall of hair. "No," she said coldly, her sadness replaced with anger once again. "I'm not leaving. Not until you remember who I am," she growled.

Gearrick opened his mouth to reply, but another voice cut him off, one that set his fur standing on end and froze him in place.

"He told you to leave," came an annoyed, female voice.

Myla turned to look at the entrance to the bedroom, and Gearrick watched as she promptly vanished in a flash of purple light, violet sparks still lingering in the air after the glare had settled.

Dreading what he was about to see, he turned to the entrance of his bedroom. Standing in the doorway was Twilight, and though the coat under her eyes was clearly wet from tears, they had stopped some time ago. The magic around her horn was fading, as was the scowl she had fixed on Myla as she sighed and looked his way. She closed her eyes and collected herself for a moment before locking her gaze with his, and though she didn't look happy, she didn't look angry.

"We need to talk" was all she said as she shut the bedroom door behind her.

Myla gasped as she resurfaced, paddling frantically in the unexpected depths of the Manehattan river. The shallows near the breaker wall were only a short ways away, but the icy chill of the river's flow and the suddenness with which she had been thrown into it left her shivering as she did her best to swim in.

At last she climbed into the shallower water, spotting a dock further up the bank where she would be able to return to the streets above. But that sensible sentiment was the furthest thing from her mind as she recalled the fierceness of Gearrick's shouting, the rage with which he had reacted to her advances.

How could he? She was beautiful, she was his. All for him. He didn't have to do anything, he could have been safe from the guild and had her in all her beauty, and she could have had him, the stallion of her dreams. It was so simple! There didn't even have to be an attachment, so why had he rejected her?

It was all she had ever wanted, ever since she could remember. Even before all of the mess with Discord, before the terrible fate she and Phyla now shared. Not even Phyla had known about Gearrick, it had been a secret; her secret. His words, the most hurtful anyone had ever said to her, rattled the shards of her shattered glass heart.

"I don't know you."

"How is it that I've thought of him over and over since I was just a girl, and he doesn't even know who I am?" she sobbed, her legs trembling and nearly giving out from the combination of nerves and the cold. "What did I do to deserve this? Is everything I love in my life just a waste of time?" she cried, any semblance of control gone as she kicked and pounded at the water in her fury, splash after splash raining back down around her shaking and panting form.

Another set of angry eyes, the eyes of that mare in the doorway, the mare who had magicked her away into the river, lingered in her memory. That furious female, ordering her out of Gearrick's home. She was the reason he had turned her away, the reason he didn't want her like he should. He had some other mare giving herself up to him, that had to be it! She had gotten to him first, that little snake, and stolen his heart. A heart she had waited ten long years to come searching for, a heart she had tricked her sister and betrayed the guild for.

Myla continued to shiver on the bank as the wind whipping across the river only made her all the colder, as cold as her confused and broken heart. The tears streaming from her eyes blended with the waters of the Manehattan river that dripped from her coat and down to her hooves that still wallowed in the waves.

"How dare you..." she sniffled quietly, the image of that purple mare burning in her mind like the fires of hell. She clenched her jaw tightly as her throat constricted, shutting off her next words until a shout of rage and sorrow finally broke free into the night.

"You bitch!"

Gearrick shuffled uncomfortably in front of her as she shut the door, and she added compassion to her list of confused emotions as he refused to look at her and took a step back. She could tell he was afraid of her, afraid of what she was going to say, afraid to know how much she had seen. The coat on the back of his neck was still standing on end from when she had first spoken.

"Twilight, I'm sorry..." he said quietly, his ears going flat in his worry, only making Twilight's heart ache with pity more, despite the lingering sadness and anger in her heart; neither of which were aimed at Gearrick.

She sighed, preparing herself to speak. She was still shaking from having cried, and the overall shock of what had happened, and she needed to calm down. "No you're not," she said at length.

"What?" Gearrick asked, finally bringing his eyes back to hers, clearly taken aback by the bluntness of her words, words Twilight now realized she should have phrased more gracefully. But everything in her heart and her head were a jumble, and she didn't even know what she wanted to say, much less how to say it.

"I just mean you can't be sorry... there's nothing to be sorry for," she said quietly, shaking her head. "I didn't mean it the way it sounded."

"How much-" Gearrick began, but Twilight cut him off unintentionally, already on her way to what she was trying to say.

"I saw the whole thing," she admitted quietly, giving him a sad smile. "All of it."

"I didn't..." he began, trailing off, not sure how to defend himself, and not realizing that he didn't need to.

As far as Twilight was concerned, he already had. She had watched him yell at that mare, had seen how angry he was. The fury in his eyes then had startled her, surprised her. That other mare had been beautiful, more beautiful than Twilight, and she never would have expected any stallion to turn somepony like that down, not locked in a kiss like that.

"I know you didn't," Twilight said with an exasperated sigh. "When I showed up I froze at the door... I came back to a mare in your room, and then all of a sudden she was on top of you, and... I-I couldn't think," she admitted quietly, her throat tightening up at the memory. "All I could think to do was run away, but my legs wouldn't move. I just stood there, and I hated it..." she stopped, closing her eyes and trying to reign herself in before she lost track of her thoughts and said something improperly.

"I'm glad I didn't leave. I got to see how you really felt, what was really going on. If I'd run, I never would have known." She let out a shaky laugh, not sincere but a laugh all the same. "I didn't know what was happening. I didn't know what to think."

Gearrick let out a heavy sigh, and whether it was one of relief or not, Twilight couldn't tell. "I wish you hadn't seen it," he said, closing his eyes and shaking his head. "I wish it hadn't happened!" He stomped a hoof in frustration, eyes still closed and the muscles in his jaw standing out as he clenched it tight. "That mare ruined everything..." he muttered quietly.

Twilight's eyes widened as she realized something that she should have noticed the minute he had said it.

"I don't care about winning this contest if it means letting you walk in here and ruin the first great thing in my life since I got to this damned city!"

He'd been screaming about the guild, and she'd been in so much shock and so angry that she hadn't noticed it, not the way she now knew he had meant it.

"It won't ruin anything," Twilight replied quietly. "And certainly not 'the best thing that's happened to you since you came to this city'."

Now it was Gearrick's eyes that widened, a blush coming to his cheeks as he locked eyes with her. "You heard that?" he asked sheepishly, but he didn't look away.

"At first I thought you were talking about the Nomad," she admitted, and somewhere deep down her selfish side wanted to hear him say it, to have him validate the conclusion she had come to.

Gearrick sighed, realizing it was too late to take back that bold statement. "No... I was talking about you," he replied quietly, still looking at her, but seeming nervous. As if he expected that a statement like that so early into their relationship would only upset her.

Twilight's heart fluttered above the lingering cold feeling she had had only a moment before. She knew that when he had said that to the other mare he had meant every word of it. He hadn't just been saying it to get rid of her.

Twilight, the best thing that had happened to him in the last two years.

"Gearrick... Thank you," she said at length, blushing and walking closer. "I know that that was all as surprising for you as it was for me. I'm not angry... In fact, in a way I'm happy."

Gearrick shook his head in disbelief as she walked closer still. "How can you be happy about that? It must have looked terrible-" he said, but she cut him off by wrapping her legs around his neck and hugging him tight.

"I'm happy because even though that mare was all over you, and you didn't know I was here, you chose me," she whispered, giving him a gentle squeeze. Though the shock hadn't worn off, and that memory of another mare kissing him would never really fade, neither would the memory of him honestly defending their relationship. "Even though she was prettier than me, you-" Twilight began, about to applaud him for his chivalry again, but he tensed up suddenly.

"No, she wasn't," he said sternly, pulling out of the embrace enough for her to catch sight of the serious look on his face. "She may have looked beautiful, but she hasn't been beautiful. Not like you have," Gearrick said firmly.

Twilight couldn't help a smile as the smirk she enjoyed so much found its way onto his face again, some mischievous joke making its way through the tension and into his mind.

"But if you mean just in terms of looks..." Gearrick said, pausing just long enough to make her wonder if he really was kidding before he continued. "You're still prettier," he chuckled.

Twilight reached up between them and bopped him on the nose, scowling at the tactless joke and slow recovery.

"Too soon?" He asked, rubbing his snout, and though she couldn't see his mouth behind his hoof she could tell he was still smirking by his eyes.

She sighed, unable to keep pretending she was offended instead of flattered. The two of them went back to simply holding one another close as the remaining tension faded between them, leaving behind only whispers of a difference in the embrace they had lately shared.

A strange thought came to Twilight, a thought in line with the jealous twinge that mare had set in her heart. "Gearrick?" Twilight asked, blushing but not able to keep the question out of her head.

"What is it?" he asked, catching sight of her blush as she pulled away from him, shuffling uncomfortably.

"I was wondering," she mused quietly, kneading her front hooves back and forth, "why can't we kiss like that?" She realized as she said it that the reason was obvious, that it was just too soon in their relationship to be that overt. Or it was supposed to be, right? But her female pride and her jealousy wouldn't permit letting some other mare step ahead of her, foolish as it was, and now it was too late to take the question back.

Gearrick looked shocked at first, but the way his smirk widened had Twilight blushing deeper in short order. "Well, that kiss wasn't all it's cracked up to be," he chuckled. "But you know, I imagine that with you it would be so much better."

"I was just-" she started, but she had no choice but to stop as Gearrick kissed her suddenly, deeply. Her heart ignored a few beats as she melted into the most intimate kiss of her life. Wrong or not, too fast or not, all became irrelevant as she closed her eyes and kissed him back, until at last it ended, some unknown thing between them letting both know that it was time to end that kiss.

But that didn't mean there couldn't be another one.

"And to think a minute ago I was going to run away," Twilight whispered, lost in a daze of bliss.

Gearrick just chuckled warmly, his lips still brushing hers as he spoke. "I'm glad you didn't."

Twilight smiled slightly to herself, her eyes opened to slits in the dark as her mind hovered on the fringes of sleep. The bedroom door was open just a crack, the plain, yellowish light beyond blending with the rainbow of lights flowing through the glass clusters and coming in from the river outside. The beams danced around the steady stream from the hallway, a stream broken by the long shadow of a pony's figure.

Gearrick had gone back downstairs to finish his check-up on the Nomad, and to ensure that nopony else would come from the guild tonight to try and sabotage his work. Though Twilight had laid down nearly an hour ago, she hadn't been tired at first.

He had come to check on her twice in that hour, and both times Twilight had pretended to be asleep. At first she thought he was just checking to see if she were asleep, for he would just poke his head in and look around quickly before closing the door again.

She had decided in short order that he was guarding her, not just checking on her. Even with the door closed, the light beneath it was broken by the shadows of his hooves for many minutes before at last he would walk away to watch over the lower floor of the warehouse instead.

It was flattering, but deep down she knew it wasn't necessary for him to watch over her. She could take care of herself, had been on adventures and fought battles that he'd probably only ever heard in stories. She knew there was a lot she hadn't told him; about being the Element of Magic, Celestia's student, a close friend to the king of the changelings.

Twilight hadn't had to tell him. Even if she did, he wouldn't have seen her any differently. Even if he knew all of that, knew how powerful she was or how easily she could defend herself, he would still be out there keeping watch. Even though she was perfectly fine, it warmed her heart to know he worried so deeply, that he would look out for her, even though he didn't have to.

She knew he would be up all night, unable to sleep for fear that somepony would come for the Nomad, or perhaps that the other mare would come back, angry at Twilight. The two of them had talked about it for some time, and Twilight had mentioned that she'd sent the other mare quite a ways up the river... and into it.

She could remember the look on his face, his shock at how devious she had been, and it brought a small smile to her lips. She didn't regret it, not really, and they had eventually laughed over it.

"He's a good stallion." she whispered, pulling the blankets tighter around herself, and nuzzling into the pillow that smelled so much like him. "A little strange... but good."

Myla walked quietly to the chess table in the middle of the room, taking the same black chair she always took, the one that matched her coat. Her sister's blue eyes followed her every step, but Phyla couldn't see her eyes for the way her hair hung limply around her face, obscuring everything.

Myla mechanically reached for a pawn, uncharacteristically silent.

"You ruined our mission," Phyla said evenly, a statement and not a question.

Myla's hoof froze over the piece, but she didn't react beyond that. Simply held stock still, her hair obscuring her face and hiding the emotions Phyla knew to be churning there.

"Mick is going to-" Phyla began, but she never got the chance to finish as Myla stood up slowly. In a sudden flurry of action the black pony grabbed the edge of the chess board and tipped it as hard as she could, throwing it to the floor and shattering the glass top to bits, the black and white pieces bouncing away with a clatter.

In that commotion, Myla's hair finally flew far enough out of the way for Phyla to see the tears staining her black coat, the puffiness of her violet eyes, and the twitch in her lips that was a battle-zone of anger and anguish.

"I don't care!" Myla roared. "I don't care about what Mick wants! I don't care about the mission! I don't care about what you want!" she screamed, stomping the table back into pieces even as it tried to rebuild itself before her very eyes. "For once, just once, why can't it matter to anypony what I want?" she asked futilely, giving up on the table as it pulled itself together and righted itself, the pieces all floating back to their respective places.

"Myla... Myla, please calm down," came Phyla's voice, just a hint of compassion in it.

"Calm down?" Myla asked with a deprecating laugh. "I can't calm down... I waited ten years for this! I played this stupid game with you for five of them, just waiting for my chance to get what I wanted, because I knew you'd never let me have it! If I had ever told you what I wanted, you would have done everything you could to stop me..." she sniffled, sitting back down in her chair.

"What are you talking about, Myla? I've always cared about what you want," Phyla said quietly, leaving her chair and walking over to her sister's side. "Why would I have stopped you?"

"You wouldn't understand," Myla huffed, turning away from Phyla. "You don't know what it's like to be in love with somepony. That's why I never told you."

"Told me what?" Phyla asked, placing a hoof on Myla's shoulder.

Myla looked at her sister in surprise, fascinated to feel the hoof on her shoulder and see the compassion in those eyes, eyes set in a face that couldn't smile or cry or laugh.

Phyla wished she could smile, just to show her sister how much she loved her. Even though loving Myla was illogical, even though Myla's very existence made Phyla's life harder, it had been the one thing Discord couldn't take away from her. The illogical love for her sister, a quality that ran too deep for even the magic of chaos to touch.

"Tell me," she said quietly. "I want to know what troubles you."

Myla took in a shaky breath, clearly unsure if she should. But eventually that same love for her sister won out. "When we were younger, do you remember where we lived?" Myla asked quietly.

"Of course. Tackton," Phyla replied evenly. "I remember."

"When we were just fillies, I went out one day because you and I had had a fight. I was so angry that I just ran, and ran, until finally I tripped on the dirt road outside of town," she said, wiping the tears off her face. "I cut my knee up pretty badly, and I couldn't get back up because of how badly it hurt.

A colt who had been playing on the edge of town saw me bleeding and ran off to get something to help. He came back and washed the dirt out of my cut, and bandaged it up for me. He even carried me home," she said, her words turning into a short laugh, though there were still tears in her eyes, and her gaze looked far away.

"I remember that. Father was furious and though that the boy had pushed you," Phyla said, and if she could have smiled she would have.

"That colt was Tinkermane," Myla said quietly. "I never told you. I never told anypony who he was. Mother and father never wanted to see him again because they thought he was part of that gang that always picked on us. But he was my hero that day, and even back then I was always the emotional one... I thought of him like a knight in shining armor after that. I never spoke to him again because of father, but I kept thinking of him. I used to watch him out playing, wishing I could go join him, tell him who I was.

As we got older, those young thoughts grew weaker. He was two years older than us, and he was attending that steamtech school for gifted ponies, so I rarely got to see him. But I never stopped thinking about him. When he got injured fixing that train, I spent whole days outside the hospital, just waiting to make sure he was alright. Everyone was saying such terrible things about him, about how stupid he was. But I thought he was brave," she said with a sigh, the tears having stopped some time ago as she told the story.

"But then they sent him away. The school wouldn't have him after that, and he took an apprenticeship in another town. I felt so stupid because I never told him that I liked him, or how I felt about him. Anytime I saw him he was helping someone or doing something foolishly brilliant. It's no surprise that my young heart fell for him. It would all over again if it could," she said with a sigh.

Phyla's brain stalled, an event horribly uncommon for her as Myla spoke her next words.

"I never forgot him. Deep down I still loved him those years later, when Discord came."

What Discord had done to them was a terrible thing, and if Phyla hadn't had her tears stolen from her she would have been crying for Myla. In Phyla's case, all of her ability to show and act on emotion had been stripped away, a curse that she couldn't even hate because of how empty it left her.

In her sister's case, it was the other extreme. Her emotions had been amplified, had been made to consume her entire life. Everything she did, every thought, was drowned in anger, or sadness, or joy.

If Myla had been in love with Tinkermane when Discord had cursed them, then her love for him all of these years would have been amplified far beyond her control. What once had been a quiet, beautiful young girl's adoration had turned into an obsession.

Myla laughed again, but this time she choked on the laugh. "You're the smart one. You know what happens next..."

"You went to Tinkermane tonight," Phyla said, unable to feel the ache she knew was supposed to be in her heart.

"It was out of control. I couldn't stop myself... I wanted him so badly, I love him so much," she said, her tears streaming down once more. "But he didn't even recognize me. Why should he? I stayed away all those years. But I wanted him to know me, needed him to. I did things I never should have done," she sobbed. "Now he hates me. If this hadn't happened to us, if I could just love him normally, then maybe... Oh Phyla," she sobbed, throwing her legs around her sister's neck and crying into her silver coat. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

Phyla sighed, wishing and wishing that she could cry to show her sister she cared. "You mustn't be sorry. Discord is the one to blame for all of this. Discord is the one who has left your love failing you, running wild. Discord is the one who made it impossible for me to cry with my sister."

"Phyla," Myla choked, squeezing her tightly.

"It's not your fault he turned you away, not your fault you pursued him and couldn't stop yourself. Not your fault that the mission failed. I forgive you," she said quietly, stroking Myla's mane.

Myla stroked hers back, rubbing her nose into the crook of Phyla's neck. "Thank you, Phyla, but I can't stop myself. There's another mare... she's the one he loves, and it burns me up inside. I don't know what will happen if I go back out there," she whispered hoarsely, the tears making her throat ache.

Phyla sighed, holding Myla close. "Don't worry, sister. I will take care of her."

"You'll..." Myla asked in disbelief, tensing up in Phyla's embrace.

"I would do anything for you, Myla."

Twilight smiled to herself as she came down the stairs, the morning buzz of the city outside and the pale beams of light coming through the wooden slats of the warehouse wall. The sight that greeted her was too predictable not to laugh at. Gearrick was fast asleep in the front seat of the Nomad, the goggles that were usually around his neck hanging from the steering wheel as he snored away, a wrench on the upholstery next to him.

"Some guard he turned out to be," she muttered to herself, smile still in place as she trotted over. She didn't want to wake him, since she couldn't even imagine how tired he must have been after all of his late night pacing. But the third stage of the contest was only an hour away at the most, so he would just have to deal with a wakeup call.

"Hey, Gearrick," she whispered, giving him a gentle shake after climbing into the front seat with him.

He muttered something and rolled over, his horn hooking his goggles and pulling them off the steering wheel where they draped across his face instead. She giggled to herself, picking the goggles off of his face and hanging them around her own neck instead. "Come on, get up, you're going to be late," she said a little more loudly, nudging him again.

His eyes blinked open slowly, and he turned his head to focus on her with one of them , the other blinking back shut. "Oh, hey," he yawned, shutting his eyes again and laying his head back down.

"Oh no you don't," she grumbled, shaking him again. "You have stage three today."

"Five more minutes," he groaned, trying to brush away her hooves as she kept nudging him.

"No, not five more minutes," she grumbled. "It's as bad as trying to wake up Spike, just with less fire. If you don't hurry up you're going to be late."

"What's the big deal? Stage three is just the design review, and I'm not even scheduled until after lunch," he yawned, sitting up. "Besides, stage three never draws a crowd. There aren't any demonstrations today, at the most it should only take a half an hour for my review." Though he was now sitting up, which Twilight considered a good start, he immediately put his head in his hooves and closed his eyes again.

"You're hopeless," she muttered, hopping out of the vehicle and heading for the warehouse door. "I'm going to go pick up breakfast, alright?" she asked, her normally cheery tone returning now that she'd given up on her mock frustration.

"Doughnut please," Gearrick called back tiredly, bringing a smile to Twilight's face.

"I'll buy you one, but you don't get it if you're asleep when I get back," she said over her shoulder.

"Yeah yeah..." he muttered, and she smiled to herself as she heard the sound of his hooves hitting the cement floor and heading for the stairs.

Mick Magnet scowled at the briefcase Phyla had set on his desk. "What's this about?" he asked gruffly, puffing on a cigar as usual.

"It is a refund," Phyla said bluntly.

Mick nearly swallowed that cigar due to his shock, coughing badly until at last he had managed to recover. However, the redness in his face wasn't just from nearly suffocating.

"What do you mean a refund?" he growled, glaring at her over his desk.

"We were unable to complete this job. Complications with Myla prevented its completion, and so we've made an exception and are refunding your investment in our services for this time," she said plainly.

"Damn it all, Phyla!" Mick roared, batting the briefcase off his desk and throwing his cigar furiously into an ashtray. "I told you no screw-ups! This was supposed to be a simple job, and you let Myla ruin-" he shouted, but Phyla's calm voice cut him short.

"I didn't let her. She took control of the body on her own. It couldn't be helped," Phyla said, her already calculating eyes growing colder as Mick raged about her sister. "I am not any happier than you are."

"You realize this means I can't take Gearrick out of the contest," Mick growled through clenched teeth. "I can't move on him in the fourth stage, by then there won't be enough remaining competitors to make it look like a happy accident. It would certainly end up in an investigation," he huffed, still pissed beyond all reason. The bit about Myla had calmed him somewhat, just due to sheer shock. Myla had never wrested control from Phyla before in all the time Mick had known the strange duo. This was something not in his calculations.

"What if he were to withdraw from the contest?" Phyla asked suddenly.

Mick shot her a scowl, not in the mood to be messed with right now. "And why in the hell would he do that? Thanks to your idiot sister, he's sitting pretty to sweep the entire thing and ruin another fine year of patent purchasing for my guild," he grumbled.

The hair on his neck stood on end as Phyla's cold eyes bored into him, her tone completely devoid of any emotion, which only made the incoming threat all the more foreboding. "Watch what you say about my sister, Mr. Magnet."

Mick cleared his throat, regaining his composure from that unnerving look in her eye, a look that her face didn't match at all. "Fine. Question still stands, I highly doubt Gearrick would withdraw on his own, and even if you've an idea, I certainly won't be paying you for it. Not after your recent string of failures."

"Understandable. This information is free. Suffice it to say that Mr. Tinkermane himself is untouchable for me because of Myla. It turns out she's in love with him," Phyla explained.

That had Mick's eyes a little wider than usual. "Well I suppose that would explain it," he muttered. "She was acting strangely when I mentioned going after Tinkermane to her. So it's because of that, eh?" he asked, pouring himself a glass of whiskey to accelerate the calming of his nerves.

"It's also because of that that we can force Mr. Tinkermane to withdraw from the contest," Phyla said evenly, not batting an eyelash.

"What are you talking about?" Mick asked, allowing his intrigue to leak into his tone.

"He's been keeping romantic company with some mare from out of town," Phyla continued. "Myla confirmed it. You would not believe her, I am sure, but trust me at least that it is true. I have noticed that she has been hanging around him since the start of the contest, but apparently she has recently begun staying at his warehouse with him instead of in a hotel. The two are clearly invested in one another."

"You think we can use her to get at Tinkermane?" Mick asked, tapping a hoof on his chin.

"Yes. If she were to go missing tonight, and not reappear before the contest tomorrow, I am certain Mr. Tinkermane will go off in search of her rather than attending the competition. He would have no valid reason to request a contest delay, the judges would see his search for this girl as a personal affair. He will be forced to forfeit the fourth stage, in a manner that makes it seem completely of his own accord," Phyla finished coldly.

"Tampering with someone's machine is one thing, kidnapping is another," Mick grumbled. "It's a sound plan, but I can't have my guild involved with something like that. The last thing I need is for this girl of Tinkermane's to go crying to the press," he huffed, taking a sip of his drink.

"She won't. Myla and I will take care of her, even if you don't want us to. We are acting on our own this time, so this cannot reflect on you," she dictated, heading for the door.

"That's very generous of you..." Mick said cautiously, clearly skeptical. "What's the catch?"

"No catch. No bits, no guild. This is between myself and this mare," Phyla said, stopping and turning to look over her shoulder, fixing Mick with one deep blue eye, a gaze so cold that his heart stopped for a moment, as if he were frozen.

"She hurt my sister," Phyla said darkly, her tone taking on the first bite of actual emotion Mick had ever heard. "Nopony hurts my sister. There is something I would like to borrow from you, Mr. Magnet."

"And what's that?" Mick asked, resisting the urge to gulp, his mouth suddenly feeling very dry, trapped in her gaze.

"I want the Markiver," she said idly.

"Out of the question!" Mick growled. The Markiver was his pride and joy, a device he had developed in secret due to its less-than-ethical nature. Not even the guild at large knew of it, for it had originally come about as a military project ordered by the captain of the royal guard at the time. The contract had been rescinded, but Mick had gone too far to turn back on the machine, and had finished the project with his own funding.

"This mare is able to teleport. I am not a unicorn, and have no magic. Without it, I will not be able to hold her anywhere for long," Phyla explained simply.

"You said no guild!" Mick argued.

"The Markiver Device does not belong to the guild. Officially it does not exist. What is the harm in lending me something that does not exist?" Phyla asked, turning to face him fully again.

Mick ground his teeth in frustration, unable to find words with which to argue. Phyla had always been a schemer, and when it came to dirty tricks her mind was even more developed than Mick's; he was a mechanic, and mathematician, not a true criminal like her.

"If you want Mr. Tinkermane taken care of, you will give it to me," she demanded.

Mick closed his eyes and sighed. After a lengthy pause, he downed the rest of his whiskey, putting a hoof to his eyes as he prepared himself to say a few words he very badly wanted not to say.

"Take whatever you need," he said quietly, turning his chair away from her, unable to look back into those cold eyes. "Now get out of my office."

"Thank you, Mr. Magnet," was all he heard, and he winced as the door to his office slammed shut.

He looked at his own reflection in the window, his coat still ruffled from the chill he had gotten, his mane badly misplaced from his earlier rage.

"There was murder in those eyes. And if she wanted to, the Markiver would let her do it," he whispered to his mirror image. He poured himself another glass of whiskey, knowing that before this was over he would likely need many more.

VIII: The Veil Shall Cry

Twilight smiled to herself as her tail swished back and forth on the blanket beneath her, looking up at the glittering coat of steam that shone with a thousand colors in the night-life of the city. As always it was warm under that everlasting cloud overhead, the gentle breeze coming across the river doing nothing to chill her despite the dampness in the air. Here and there the soft 'plink' of a water droplet would grace her ears as some moisture far above joined together for a trip to the world below, dripping onto the tin roof of the warehouse where she and Gearrick had decided to have their dinner together that night.

"So is it always there?" she asked, pointing to the cloud.

Gearrick smiled, leaning back and looking up at it. "It always is, but it's not as large in the colder months. By the time fall comes around, it's usually thinner, and in the winter the vapor turns into snowflakes or ices up windows. You wouldn't believe the tricks the lights play then," he said with a laugh, placing his front hooves behind his head and closing his eyes.

Twilight tried her best to imagine what it would be like with the lights glinting off hundreds of thousands of snowflakes, all falling gently, saved from the winds of winter by the tall buildings around them. "It sounds wonderful," Twilight said with a smile, unable to take her eyes away from it.

"The locals call it The Veil," he explained, opening his eyes and gazing up at it again. "It's been around long before I came here, but in reality it's a pretty new thing. Most of the ponies here can remember a time before The Veil. But nobody complains, it's been very useful to the city. You can kind of use it to predict the weather, if you know it well enough. Like Jack, for example; he's warned me plenty of times when rain was coming, just by looking at it," he said with a chuckle.

"It's very easy to explain, in all reality. But the children, those who've grown up under it their whole lives and can't remember a time without it, see The Veil differently," Gearrick said with a comfortable sigh. "I do too; I never got to see this city without it."

"What do you mean 'differently'?" Twilight asked, pulling her gaze away from the colorful cloud and paying closer attention to his words.

"To the children and out-of-towners like you and I, The Veil isn't just a cloud of steam. It's a magical thing, no matter how silly it sounds. I could explain it inside out, and yet that feeling that there is something mystical about it won't go away," he said with a smirk. "Rumors abound, young legends started by the older kids in the city. These stories get passed around to the younger children all the time, and even the adults of the city know them now. I know it's stupid, but it would have to be magical to have legends about it; even if they're made up," he finished.

Twilight looked back up at it, smiling to herself as she laid down next to him, resting her head on his chest as she thought about his words. "I don't think it's stupid at all," she admitted at last. "Tell me one of the legends about it?" she asked, wiggling around to get more comfortable, and dragging an 'oof' out of him as she pressed into him harder in the process, squeezing some of the air out of him.

"Alright," he chuckled. "I'll tell you the one I like the best. The Veil never used to stay, except for in the spring, when the damp and chill in the air would keep it around. No matter how the power plant churned, every summer it would vanish," he started quietly. He laid one of his forelegs across Twilight's waist in a gentle hug before he continued.

"A young stallion who was born in the city was always amazed by it. How the lights danced, how it kept the city warm in the cool spring. He looked forward to it every year, and regretted it every summer when it was gone. He would stay up all through the night sometimes, just looking at it from his rooftop. But one night something very different caught his eye.

On another rooftop not far away, a young mare was watching The Veil as well. She was just as beautiful as the lights above, and though she never once saw him, he couldn't look away from her. That night, he watched her instead, until at last she left.

From then on, every night the stallion would look for the mare on her rooftop, and secretly share his love of The Veil with her. She never knew that she had a partner in her nighttime viewings, until at last one night she caught him looking at her.

When she did, the stallion looked away quickly, turning back to The Veil in his embarrassment. The mare was confused at first, but the more she thought about it, the more she began to realize that he had been gazing at her, despite how beautiful The Veil was.

She was flattered when she realized that; that the stallion thought she was more beautiful than The Veil. She never caught him looking at her again, though she often tried. She was now the one watching him, despite how beautiful The Veil was.

One night, the mare decided to meet him. She went to his home just before she knew he would go up on the roof, and knocked. When the stallion answered the door he was shocked and embarrassed. The mare was just as sheepish, but she had made up her mind, and so she quietly asked if he would like to look at The Veil together.

From that night on, the two gazed upon it together, and soon they fell in love. When The Veil vanished in the summer, the couple was saddened. But their memories of it, and their new life together, kept them warmer than The Veil ever had. For years and years The Veil came and went in their lives, and their love grew." Gearrick paused, his gentle hug around Twilight's waist growing tighter, his voice getting a little somber.

"But one summer, the stallion was in an accident. He was badly injured, and the doctors said he wouldn't live much longer; until the end of the next spring at the latest. The mare's heart was broken, but she vowed to take care of him until then, to make sure that he would live comfortably until spring, so the two of them could look at The Veil one last time together.

On the last night of spring, the young stallion passed away in the mare's embrace, on the rooftop they had shared for so long. His last words to her had been that he never wanted to forget the sight of her and The Veil. The mare cried deeply, and stayed on the rooftop all that night, wishing over and over that The Veil would stay, and never leave her. It was all she had left of him, and she refused to lose it.

As she cried, The Veil cried with her, raining slowly and endlessly to share in her sadness. The Veil missed the stallion too, and from that day forward it honored the mare's wish, and never departed," he finished quietly.

Twilight didn't know what to think. The story was so sad, yet somehow bittersweet. "It's a beautiful legend," she admitted quietly, gently rubbing the leg he had draped across her. "Sad, but beautiful."

"I think so too," Gearrick said, sitting up a bit so that he could look down at her as she laid across his lap instead of his chest. "They say that on nights like tonight when it rains gently, The Veil is crying again. Not for the friend it lost, but for the friends it might lose again as time goes by," he said sadly.

"What do you mean?" Twilight asked, feeling a sudden tightness in her heart because of his tone, and the look in his eyes.

"I've never seen anyone who likes The Veil as much as you do," Gearrick said with a small laugh, a laugh that didn't last long or feel very sincere. "But I think it knows, just like I do, that soon you're going to have to leave. That's why it's crying tonight."

Twilight's heart skipped, the tight feeling growing crushing. She'd been trying to avoid this topic as long as she possibly could, but now she was all out of options. She knew that she'd have to go back to Ponyville eventually. Aurus and AJ's wedding, her duties at the library, her work as the Element of Magic... She couldn't stay away from all of that for long, but she had hoped that she could pretend for just a while longer. Everything here had been so magnificent; almost like a life of luxury, doing whatever she wanted and spending time with the first stallion she had ever had feelings for.

Sadly, nothing in life was perfect.

"Gearrick, I'm sorry," she sighed, looking away from him and ears drooping.

"Sorry for what?" he asked with a disbelieving laugh, one that she could still sense the sadness behind.

"I knew from the very beginning that I was going to have to leave eventually, and then I dragged you into-" she started, her tone growing somewhat angry with herself before Gearrick stopped her.

"I knew you'd leave too," he said simply, easily killing her argument. "You didn't drag me into anything. You probably think it's stupid to start a relationship you'd have to walk away from so soon, don't you?"

Twilight sighed. It was like he was reading her mind, and they weren't exactly pleasant thoughts. "It's not that the relationship is stupid," she said quietly. "Just that in the end, no matter how wonderful it is, I can't stay. I mean, you're the first stallion I've ever met that I felt this way about, and then I have to leave?" she asked angrily, but it was a bitter anger, not a biting one.

Gearrick sighed, bending low and kissing her gently on the lips, stopping her unpleasant words. "I know it seems like you started something just to lose it, but that's not how I think of it," he said quietly. "Even if you can only be here for a week, it's been one of the greatest weeks of my life. I've never met anyone like you, and to be honest I don't think I ever will again. So what if you're hours and hours away? No matter where you go, it's not like this week won't have happened between us, or I won't still love you..." His strong words trailed off suddenly as he realized he'd said one that maybe he shouldn't have.

A word that Twilight's heart latched onto gladly, though it made the bitter beat that much harder. He loved her? In such a short time, could he really mean that? Twilight didn't doubt for a moment that he did, because deep down she felt the same, had been wanting to use that word so badly, but hearing it made it that much more painful a thing to lose.

"I know, Gearrick. I feel the same way," she said quietly. "It hasn't been very long, but I'm already getting used to the feeling of waking up and being excited to see you every day. I've spent this whole week trying and trying not to think about leaving that behind."

"I know it's not easy, trust me, because I'm in the same boat," he said with a laugh, a laugh with a little more warmth in it. "I know the feeling of wanting to see you every day. Even if until four days ago I had never seen you before. It almost doesn't seem like enough time to feel like I do about you, but it's not something I can change, or that I want to. To me it doesn't matter how far away you are, or how often I'll see you. Just that when I do, it will make things that much better," he said with a smile.

"I can come see you anytime, right?" Twilight asked, feeling warmed by his words, but not enough to alleviate the tremors of worry in her heart.

"Anytime you want," Gearrick said quietly, scooping her up and hugging her tightly. "Like The Veil, just because you have to leave me doesn't mean you won't come back. And who knows... maybe just like The Veil, someday you'll never leave again," he said with a small laugh.

Twilight couldn't deny the smile playing at her lips as she hugged him back. That legend seemed almost too convenient now, and she was sure it had been made up, and not by some local Manehattan child. It fit their situation too well to not be specially built for it; after all, he was an engineer.

"I'm sure you're right," she said with a shaky giggle, kissing him on the cheek. "I wish I could be as carefree as you," she said with a sigh, squeezing him gently.

He just smiled as he pulled away from her, turning his gaze back to the lights above. "Give me enough time, and I'll teach you to be."

"What are you going to do?" Myla asked fearfully. Phyla seemed even further away than usual, as if her eyes contained a layer of ice that obscured her soul like fractured glass.

"I'll take it," Phyla said idly, taking a bishop even as she said it.

"What are you saying?" Myla asked, trying desperately to protect her king. Phyla had never played so fiercely, so perfectly. Even the desperate tricks Myla had hoarded over the years were not sufficient to best her.

"I will take everything away from him. I will take his mare, his home, his dreams and his desires," Phyla said emptily. "And in their wake, I will leave only you. It is so simple, so easy. He will love you, because I will leave him nothing else to love, dear sister."

"You can't!" Myla cried in horror, upsetting the table in her emotion. As always though, the pieces flew back to where they had been only seconds before.

"Do you not want his love?" Phyla asked quietly.

"Of course I do!" Myla whimpered, knowing that answering that question was not going to solve anything. "But I don't want you to hurt him!"

"I'm not going to hurt him. He will be unharmed," Phyla said, taking another piece.

"I don't want you to hurt his heart!" Myla growled, angry that her sister couldn't understand. But of course she couldn't; damage to the heart wasn't something she could comprehend anymore. There was no way to prevent Phyla from enacting her plan... A plan Myla feared was perfect.

"He hurt your own heart. Nopony hurts my sister. I will take everything from him, and give it all to you," Phyla whispered coldly, making one final move and ending the game.

"Because I love you, Myla."

Twilight sat bolt upright in the bed, looking left and right in shock. Something had woken her, a loud crashing sound, like shattering glass. A quick glance at Gearrick showed him to be sound asleep, which didn't surprise her after his late night guard duty from the night before.

She strained her ears, listening for some other sound, uncertain if she had simply dreamed it all. Just when she was ready to give up on it and let her heart rate drop, light flickered from underneath the bedroom door before flaring brightly and then vanishing suddenly, the sound of shattering glass coming to her ears once more, though this time as if from further away.

Confused, Twilight got out of the bed and headed for the door, pulling it open. One step into the hallway resulted in the crunching of broken glass underhoof as she stepped on the remains of a light bulb.

She tried the light switch, but none of the hallway lights came on. All she could see were the twin shafts of light parting around her long shadow down the length of the hallway from the bedroom window.

A high-pitched whine sounded from down the hallway for a split second, and suddenly the door behind her snapped shut, slamming into her hard and throwing her forward. Unable to stop herself, Twilight fell to the floor a few feet ahead, gasping as one of her front legs was cut by the remains of yet another bulb.

"What's going on?" she whispered to herself, terribly confused. She got back to her hooves, lighting her horn to see in the pitch black.

Up and down the hall there was nothing, just shards of glass glimmering in the purple glow, and little specks of her own blood dotting the floor from her various small cuts.

Her heart clenched with the feeling that something was horribly wrong; that she was being watched. Unable to keep the worry out of her mind, she started back for the bedroom, thinking to wake Gearrick. She had only taken four steps before she ran into something she couldn't see, even with her horn lighting the way in front of her, causing her to stumble back.

She looked around, unable to see the flicker of magic that would indicate a barrier, though what she had run into hadn't felt like one. "Who's there?" she asked angrily, a slight tremor of fear in her voice. "Show yourself!" she growled at last, gritting her teeth against her worry.

"As you wish," came a quiet reply from directly in front of her, startling her and causing her to backpedal.

The air in front of her shimmered suddenly, and it looked as if a bubble of some sort were falling down all around the form of somepony she hadn't been able to see only seconds before, revealing her bit by bit.

She was white, but was wearing a strange black suit of armor, or so it seemed. Very little of the pony could be seen, except for her eyes behind a small, glass visor in the helmet that otherwise covered her entire face, the visor glowing a gentle shade of blue.

Twilight had never seen anything like it before. Whatever it was, it was obviously some sort of steamtech suit.

"W-who are you?" Twilight asked, her shock and the sudden return of the nervous feeling driving her confidence from her.

"You should be quiet," came the reply, sounding as if it were coming through a metal pipe. The voice was obviously female, and seemed incredibly familiar to Twilight. "You would hate to wake Mr. Tinkermane."

"Gearrick?" Twilight asked suddenly, his name giving her a little more stability. "What do you want with me? With him?"

"I don't want anything to do with you. But you have sadly involved yourself in a situation far outside your own control. As for Mr. Tinkermane, what I want from him is to take his life apart, and put it back together in a more fitting manner."

"What?" Twilight asked, shocked by such blunt, bold words. "Why?"

"Because my sister loves him, and I will make him love her," came the reply, the cold eyes behind the glowing blue visor unnerving Twilight.

"Like hell you will!" Twilight growled suddenly, those words making it incredibly obvious who this other pony was. It was that other sister, the one that worked for the guild! Lighting her horn, Twilight fired a beam of light right for her opponent.

The same high-pitched whine she had heard earlier suddenly filled the air and the black armor lit up like a torch, lines of blue energy illuminating it in strange patterns.

Twilight's laser bent around the armored pony, following some kind of curved barrier Twilight couldn't see. The beam orbited several times at blinding speed before it finally launched free, flying back towards Twilight.

Too surprised to react, the beam slammed into her, throwing her back down the hallway, gashing her back every which-way with the tiny shards of glass. She gasped as she fought for consciousness, finally forcing herself to her wobbly legs. "You leave Gearrick alone" she gasped, her horn lighting again.

Another whine sounded before she could even fire and one of the doors next to Twilight suddenly rocketed off its hinges, slamming into her unexpectedly from the side. The force of the impact shattered the door to pieces and crumpled the shoddy wall it had slammed Twilight into, leaving her badly beaten and bleeding on the floor of the hallway.

Twilight groaned and tried to stand again, but it was clear to her that something was broken, or dislocated at the least, because the leg that the door had slammed into directly burned with pain and gave out underneath her, throwing her back to the floor.

She threw up a barrier around her as the whining noise started up again, just in time to block another door. From the far end of the hallway she could hear Gearrick shouting and banging on the door, which wouldn't open. Twilight watched as the pony walked closer and closer.

And right through her barrier. It parted like water around the whining, pulsing suit, and Twilight could feel her coat stand on end as it approached, the whine getting louder and louder.

"Leave Gearrick alone," she hissed angrily, glaring at her enemy.

"Worry about yourself," came the calm, hollow reply.

Twilight's world faded to black as an armored hoof slammed into the side of her head, knocking her out cold.

Gearrick put his shoulder down and roared, slamming into the door with all his might and finally breaking it off its hinges. He raced through the opening as quickly as he could, and gasped suddenly as one of the hinges he scraped against burnt him as if it had been hit with a torch only moments before.

Any thoughts on the matter quickly faded as he caught sight of Twilight being lifted onto the back of somepony in black, blue-lined armor.

"Ah, Mr. Tinkermane," came a metallic-sounding, emotionless voice. "I am sorry to have woken you, but I am afraid your friend could not be dealt with quietly."

"Put her down!" Gearrick growled angrily. He had never really excelled in his magical studies, beyond what he had needed to get by, but the sight of Twilight beaten up like that stirred his blood, infuriated him. From the door behind him he picked up the bronze handle, sharp, jagged pieces of wood splintering off and still attached to it within the copper glow.

"No," came the plain, simple reply, accompanied by a high-pitched sound.

The door handle whipped out of his magical aura and slammed into the ceiling above him, burying itself there, and startling Gearrick. He hadn't meant to move the handle an inch! What was going on?

"Who are you?" he asked with a growl.

"Somepony you say you are not afraid of," came the reply.

"The guild," Gearrick hissed, glaring at the armored foe. "Why are you messing with me? You're too late, the contest ends tomorrow! The city will be all over you when they hear about this, you won't be able to hide behind your usual political bullshit!"

"This has nothing to do with the contest, or the guild. I am here on my own orders this time," said his adversary.

Gearrick's glare only deepened. "So you're the sister she was talking about."

"Yes," she said simply.

"Give her back to me," Gearrick growled.

"Love my sister, and everything will be made well," Phyla said coldly.

Gearrick's brain stalled. That's what this was about? "Are you insane?" he roared, slashing a hoof through the air in front of him in his anger. "Why the hell would I love her, just because you tell me to? Do you even see what you've done to Twilight?" he asked viciously, pointing at the unconscious, purple mare. "Do you honestly think threatening me will make me love that crazy sister of yours?"

"When you have nothing left, where will you turn but to Myla?" Phyla asked quietly. "I am not threatening you, I promised not to harm you. I am threatening this mare, and everything else you hold dear."

"Give her back!" Gearrick roared suddenly, charging Phyla. She was clearly insane, and if he wanted Twilight safe, he would have to fight for her.

Phyla made no efforts to stop him, but simply turned tail and fled down the stairs to the lower level. Gearrick chased after her as fast as he could. The staircase in front of him collapsed suddenly, the nails holding it together rocketing skyward just as he reached it.

Bracing himself, Gearrick leapt the two stories down, trying to slow his fall with his magic as he tumbled, rolling through the remains of the stairs.

He ached everywhere, was cut in a few places, and despite his best magical efforts his knees burned from the impact of the fall. Still he ran after Phyla as she made her way to the front doors of the warehouse, which were wide open. She was slower than him, encumbered as she was with the suit and Twilight, and so he closed ground quickly, and had nearly caught her as she raced out the front doors.

Just as she left the warehouse Phyla jumped before landing and continuing her mad dash.

It registered too late as Gearrick's front hooves snagged on something, a slight pressure that readily gave under his own forward momentum, not halting him in the slightest.

A tripwire.

Time slowed down as he looked over his shoulder and watched in horror as the fireball billowed out from under the Nomad. His precious life-achievement blew apart in a cloud of orange flames, the painstakingly crafted bronze plates bursting at the near-seamless welds, the gears flying about and slamming into anything and everything.

He watched as the shrapnel tore the walls of his simple home to pieces, as the fire consumed the wood and stacks of papers from the old printing business.

He watched as his greatest dream as a mechanic became the force that destroyed the only home he had known for the last two years.

Time caught up with him in his shock as the blast funneled out after him, the simplest path it could take. Though the fire never reached him, the pressure from the detonation lifted him from his hooves, throwing him forward far faster than he had been running, and rolling him across the cobblestones.

His vision was blurry and fading between darkness and reality as he came to rest at Phyla's hooves, looking up into the glowing mask she wore, now purple as the blue light blended with the reflection of the raging fire that consumed his dreams and his home.

"I leave you with nothing," Phyla said coldly, walking away.

Gearrick had no reply as his bruised body and terribly injured heart coaxed him into waiting unconsciousness.

Gearrick coughed as he woke, the smoke from the still-raging fires filling his lungs. Ponies raced all around him with buckets and hoses, doing anything they could to try and quench the flames. He was laying on top of a table at one of the nearby establishments while city folk ran to and fro to try and kill the spread of the fire.

"Twilight!" he cried suddenly, the memories flooding back.

"Easy, son!" came a familiar voice, and a gentle hoof on his chest.

"Jack?" Gearrick asked quietly, coughing again. "What are you doing here?"

"I came as soon as news started going around that there was a warehouse fire by the river. Ya've told me plenty of times you keep yer workshop out in these parts, and I got worried real quick," he explained, pushing on Gearrick's chest a little firmer. "Now lay back down, boy. Ya took a pretty good beatin'."

"Have you seen Twilight?" Gearrick asked, unable to fight against the urge to lay back down and close his eyes.

"I haven't seen yer lady, Gearrick," Jack said quietly. "But I know they haven't found any bodies in that fire of yers."

"She wasn't in there," Gearrick groaned. "She was kidnapped."

"Kidnapped?" Jack asked in disbelief. "By who, and what fer?"

"By an agent of the guild," he said quietly.

"The Gearbox Guild?" he asked, shaking his head. "I'll be damned, you weren't kiddin' about them. They did this?"

"Yes."

"The Nomad was lost in the fire, kiddo," Jack said with a heavy sigh. "I'd say for sure they took you out of the contest."

Gearrick's eyes snapped open, and he gritted his teeth in anger. "I don't care about the contest, Jack," he growled. "They took Twilight, they hurt her, and I'm going to get her back."

"But how? They blew up yer workshop, and the best invention ya ever made," Jack said carefully. "All ya got left is pieces."

Gearrick sat up and then climbed off the table, his adrenaline too powerful to remain idle. "Funny thing about that, Jack... I've always been good with pieces."

The sun was up, and likely the contest had already started for the day. The fourth stage was a sort of extension of the third, an entire day spent in which a team of tinkers from all over Equestria would thoroughly test the limits of the remaining eight semi-finalists' machines. Combined with the third stage, which was a far less interesting affair, the structural and performance tests were jointly referred to as 'The Technical Review'.

Only those four who could best meet or exceed the expectations of their machines formed during the structural review would be allowed to continue on to the fifth and final stage as the finalists, where they would compete for the order of their placement as contest winners in one last, simple stage.

Having passed the structural review portion with flying colors, he should have been there as one of the traditional eight semi-finalists. However, it was certain now that the Nomad would not be meeting any of the expectations the board of tinkers had compiled. Even if he still had the Nomad, Twilight's absence would have prevented him from going. Her rescue consumed him. Ultimately his failure to attend would mean a failure of the Technical Review as a whole, and his inevitable disqualification, but that was the furthest thing from his mind. Nothing contest-related would have mattered to him in the slightest anymore, if not for one crucial, useful detail.

It meant none of the other seven engineers would be in their workshops. All of his own tools had been lost in the fire, and he would need new ones if he wanted to be able to find Twilight. He had no idea where she would have been taken, but he had a perfect idea of who to ask.

He had spent most of his morning trying to figure out what had been going on with that suit Phyla had been wearing. The high-pitched whining, the unseen ability to manipulate objects... he had later realized that she had only been affecting metal objects. The door handle and hinges, the nails on the stairs.

Electromagnetism. The same force that drove his motors, but able to be used on objects at a great distance. That's what the suit was designed to do, to manipulate strong EM fields, allowing her to push or pull any metal object, or even bend light if the field was strong enough.

Magic was a strong force, and in many ways was far superior to magnetism, but unfortunately it was not something he was particularly gifted with. His only hope was to fight technology with technology, and now knowing what he did about the suit, he had an idea of what he could do to stop it. It hadn't had any kind of engine on it, so likely it couldn't power itself for long.

Whatever it was, it was truly a mechanical and electrical masterpiece. Regardless, with its secrets uncovered, it was now the unfortunate study subject of his brilliant mind.

Gearrick picked the lock on the warehouse doors easily, the same lock he had picked only days before in his midnight efforts to save the lifting machine. The tools he had ignored then were now his primary focus. He shoveled wrenches, screwdrivers, even gas canisters and a welding torch into the bag Jack had given him.

He left without sealing the doors to the warehouse back up. He had bigger problems than worrying about trespassing right now as he ran back off towards the river.

Jack was there, waiting with his stall like he had asked. Gearrick sighed in relief, glad to see that his old acquaintance hadn't left him to his fate.

His ruined warehouse, his shattered home, still smoldered in the morning sunlight. Smoke rose from piles of rubble, staining The Veil overhead a darker shade of grey as the vapor trapped the shroud of ash. Pieces of torn and blackened bronze were everywhere, sticking out of boards, gears resting in the holes of cobblestones they had shattered.

"What are you going to do, kiddo?" Jack asked, his worry clear.

Gearrick's heart was warmed by Jack's concern. "I'm sorry Jack, but I'm going to need some of the parts from the stall," he said quietly, trotting into the ruins of his warehouse, darting from scrap to scrap of the Nomad. Whenever he found a suitable piece he would pile it by the cart with his magic.

"Take anything ya need," Jack said, stepping away from the food stall. "I can't do much, but I'm not gonna let that little lady get taken without lending ya a hoof. I'll help ya any way I can."

"I appreciate that," Gearrick said, his tone sincere even through his heavy breathing as he hefted a sheet of bronze metal. "If I'm going to do this, I'm going to need an extra set of hooves."

"What're ya gonna build?" Jack asked.

Gearrick's cold look unnerved Jack as it appeared suddenly from behind another metal sheet.

"I'm going to build a weapon, Jack. After all, I can't go after her without something to fight back with. Besides, there's only one pony I can think of who might know where Twilight's been taken," Gearrick said quietly, dropping the last metal sheet and his bag of tools onto the ground next to the stall.

"Who?" the old pony asked, clearly perplexed.

"Mick Magnet, head of the Gearbox Guild. The pony who kidnapped Twilight was working for him directly before all of this. If anypony would know anything, it would be him," Gearrick replied with a sure nod, though his gaze seemed far off; lost in thought.

"To see him, ya'd have to-" Jack began, but Gearrick's devilish smirk cut him off. A confident look unlike any Jack had seen on his face before.

"I'd have to go straight to the executive office of the guild. I know," Gearrick said with a chuckle. "They're not going to let me in without an appointment... but I won't need them to 'let me'. When I'm finished with this latest invention, they couldn't stop me if they wanted to." Even as he finished his little speech, Gearrick was pulling out a welding torch and an lighter, preparing the tool for use.

"I'm not going to destroy the place, or hurt anyone," Gearrick explained slowly, catching sight of Jack's concerned look out the corner of his eye. "I'm not a criminal like they are. But I'm not going to waste any time arguing with security. I want my answers straight from Magnet, and I am going to get them."

Jack sighed, still worried, but relieved enough to let his concerns go. "I trust ya, Gearrick. I know that friend must mean a lot to ya, so I'm not about to leave you on yer own."

"She's not just a friend... Thanks Jack," Gearrick said, placing a hoof on Jack's shoulder in gratitude.

"I've never seen ya this way before... Ya don't seem mad, or scared, or worried," Jack said.

Gearrick just chuckled, smirking. "Twilight's a strong girl. I don't think they'll hurt her more than they have, and certainly not before I find out where she is. I can't afford to be nervous or scared. I don't have to be, because I know something Magnet and his kidnapper don't."

"And what's that?" Jack asked, smirking as Gearrick put his goggles in place and lit the welding torch.

"They pissed off the wrong pony."

X: Two Like One

Twilight's ears perked up and her tired eyes snapped open as the sound of hoofsteps echoed through the silent air of the abandoned office building. She had fallen asleep after many more attempts to escape, each more extreme and tiring than the last. Outside it was darkening, the sun just now setting somewhere far beyond the boundaries of the towering buildings.

The hoofsteps drew nearer, and her heart raced with hope. "Gearrick?" she called out quietly, all of her desire to see him clear in her tone as she forced herself up on her tired legs.

She was disappointed, but not surprised, to see Myla instead. The same pony that she had teleported out of Gearrick's workshop and into the river, the same pony who had stolen a kiss from him and set this entire terrible series of events into motion.

"Well at least we can agree on something... We'd both like to see him," Myla said, standing on the edge of the circle Twilight was caged in. Her tone seemed strange to Twilight; it wasn't the gloating, triumphant voice she had been expecting. If anything Myla sounded sad.

Twilight was not surprised to find that the light-wall sprung to life to keep Myla out, confirming her suspicion that the barrier worked in both directions.

"You..." Twilight growled, glaring at Myla.

Myla just sighed, confusing Twilight even further as she only looked more and more distraught. "I didn't mean it..." Myla murmured, so quietly that Twilight could barely hear it over the steady humming of the electric barrier.

"What are you talking about?" Twilight asked fiercely, frustrated by her captor's odd antics.

"I didn't mean for this to happen!" Myla replied, her voice thick with tension, almost as if she were on the verge of crying.

That set Twilight back on her hooves. Hadn't meant for this to happen? As far as Twilight could infer, Myla had gone crying to her sister and talked her into doing all of this, but it was apparent from her distress that that had not been what had happened.

"I didn't mean for Phyla to... to..." she sniffled, her composure evaporating. She just stood there, shaking like a leaf, tears welling in her eyes as she gazed at a very confused Twilight Sparkle.

"I don't understand," Twilight admitted at length, too lost for any other words. Myla was the villain! Villains didn't cry in front of their prisoners, at least not in any story Twilight had ever read.

"I'm sorry," Myla said unexpectedly, somehow hanging on the verge of a complete and teary breakdown. "I never wanted any of this. It's all my fault; you, the Nomad... Phyla's doing everything she can to make Gearrick miserable."

"What? Why?" Twilight asked. She vaguely recalled the psychotic white pony saying something to that effect, but at the time it had been the least of her problems.

"My sister thinks that if she wrecks his life, there will be room for me in his heart when he rebuilds it," she muttered quietly. "Phyla doesn't understand... she can't understand. She's only doing what she thinks will work to make me happy."

Twilight thought for many silent minutes on that statement; so many things didn't make sense. The sister who was the root of all this was practically crying from remorse, but the other sister didn't care?

"If you're really sorry about it all, let me out," Twilight said sternly, resolving to not get swept up in Myla's emotional tidal wave. "That way I can teach your sister a very important lesson," she finished, glaring coldly at Myla.

"I can't," the black pony whispered quietly.

"Why the hell not?" Twilight growled, jumping over to the light wall in her frustration. Her sudden approach startled Myla, despite the barrier, causing the distraught mare to stumble over her own hooves as she backpedaled.

"I just can't!" she whimpered, clearly very upset about that prospect. "It wouldn't matter anyways. Even if you could get out, you couldn't even find Phyla."

"Care to bet on that?" Twilight growled, irate that Myla, for all her regret, wasn't even going to help her.

"If she were a normal pony, maybe you could," Myla sniffed, recovering some of her stability at last. "The problem is she's not normal. You couldn't find her if you tried, but she's standing right in front of you."

Startled by that statement, Twilight looked all around Myla for any sign of her sister, but couldn't find her. She wasn't wearing the suit, so there wasn't any chance she could be invisible like she had been before.

"She and I are the same pony," Myla explained quietly, noting that Twilight was looking for Phyla. "You're looking right at her."

Twilight's brain stalled as she tried to process that. That hardly made sense! How could they possibly be the same pony?

Twilight ground her teeth in frustration. "Don't give me that! If you're that afraid of what your sister is going to do to Gearrick's life, why make things up just to protect her?" the purple mare growled, glaring at Myla.

"I'm not making this up!" Myla shot back, shifting from sad to angry in the blink of an eye. "I'm telling you the truth! Why would I lie to you? It's not like you're going to do anything about it anyways," she said with a huff.

Twilight paused, finding a surprising amount of logic in Myla's statement. True enough, even if she did tell Twilight where her sister was, it wasn't like escape was exactly easy. She certainly had no reason to hide anything. If this were like any of the stories Twilight had read, Myla would be standing there gloating and revealing her whole villainous plan, not lying like a snake.

"Let's say for just a moment I believe you," Twilight said, her skeptical look impossible to misinterpret. "If you and your sister are the same pony, then how are you even sisters? That hardly makes sense. And second, how is it you can't stop her from doing all of this to Gearrick? I wouldn't expect you to do something noble like caring about me," Twilight said snidely, drawing a glare from Myla, "but I'm sure you would have tried to save Gearrick from as much as you could."

Myla nodded, though her scowl was in place. "I admit it sounds far-fetched when you put it like that. But have you ever seen my sister and I in one place? When she went to kidnap you, do you honestly think I would have let her go alone if I was worried about Gearrick? Even if I couldn't stop her myself, I'd still want to be there," Myla pointed out.

Twilight put a hoof to her chin in thought. That certainly made sense, but one case wasn't enough to-

"And while we're on the subject, Phyla never would have let me go and see Gearrick on my own like I did the other night," Myla said, turning her nose up and smiling smugly.

Twilight glared at the less-than-friendly reminder of that stolen kiss. Still, that made things seem more likely.

"Still don't believe me?" Myla asked, her smug smile vanishing as she realized her joke was not appreciated, or helping her case.

"Of course not," Twilight grumbled. "You'll have to try a little harder than that to convince me."

Myla sighed, her sad look coming back into play. She seemed different now, as if she were looking at something very far away. "I suppose I'd have to give you the whole story to convince you," she said with a sigh. "You might want to sit down... it's not a short one." Myla herself was curling her legs underneath her, placing herself just outside the zapping range of the light-wall.

Twilight followed suit, unable to deny that she was curious to hear the story behind such a claim.

News was pouring in from all over Equestria. Strange things were happening everywhere, and had been since morning. The entire town was in a panic, abuzz with news of some ancient evil on the loose. Equestria and the towns near it were in complete disorder, and the princesses had so far been unable to stem the tide of troubles that was sweeping the nation.

Thick pink clouds hovered overhead, raining chocolate milk, of all things. Sometime around noon, the sky had begun to rapidly shift between day and night, which had the ponies more worried than anything. Celestia no longer controlled the sun and the moon on her own; her sister Luna now shared that responsibility.

Any creature that could steal away control of the sky from both the Princess of Night and the Princess of the Sun was surely terrible. The news coming in was a frightening mish-mash of damage reports and letters to family and friends from other towns. From the sounds of things, it didn't sound like Tackton would be spared the chaos much longer.

Myla and Phyla watched the clouds outside with two different expressions. Myla watched each pink wisp with great interest, wide-eyed and smiling as they rained down chocolate. Phyla, on the other hand, was scowling between the window and a piece of paper in front of her, scratching with a quill.

"Aren't they wonderful?" Myla asked, tapping on the glass to indicate the clouds.

"No, they're not," Phyla grumbled, scribbling something down. "I keep running through the numbers, and the list of chemicals, but there's no reason for those clouds to be pink. It doesn't make any sense at all," she huffed, wadding up her piece of paper and tossing it into the waiting pile of paper-balls from previous calculations.

"And they rain chocolate," Myla said excitedly, oblivious to her sister's logic-related distress with her eyes glued to the irregular weather.

"Of course... How could I forget?" Phyla grumbled sarcastically, rubbing a hoof over her eyes.

"Let's go get some," Myla pleaded, tugging on Phyla's tail.

"Come on, stop pulling my tail. We're not little kids anymore, act more like an adult," Phyla chided, pulling her tail away from Myla's grasping hooves.

"Just because we're not kids doesn't mean we can't have fun," Myla pouted. "Seriously, pink clouds that rain chocolate. For all we know, it could only last five minutes!"

"Good, then the world will make sense again," Phyla grumbled.

"No, not good," Myla said with a scowl. "We should go and experience it while we can."

"Mom and dad said to stay indoors. Just like the news reports told us to," Phyla said with a scowl of her own.

"Well mom and dad are outside," Myla muttered.

"They're out at the post office waiting for letters from the family. They're doing something important, not goofing off!" Phyla said sternly, but Myla was already walking away. Phyla jumped to her hooves, following her into the kitchen. "You'd better not be going outside!"

"Relax. Sheesh, you sound like an old lady," Myla said, rolling her eyes. She picked up the kitchen's broom in her mouth, and carried it over to the sink.

"What are you doing then? Probably nothing good," Phyla muttered, unable to deny her curiosity. Myla did weird things all the time, most of which usually resulted in trouble. But Phyla could never deny that, while usually mischievous, Myla often had interesting solutions to problems; like trying to get chocolate rain without leaving the house.

"Well if that's the way you feel about it, see if I share any of my chocolate," Myla said snootily, wandering back into the living room and snatching up a ball of yarn.

Phyla didn't say anything else as she watched Myla do something completely unexpected... and completely stupid. Stringing a teacup to the end of the broomstick with the yarn, Myla headed back to the living room.

"What are you doing...?" Phyla whined in exasperation, easily able to see where this was going.

"Catching chocolate. Duh," Myla said, sticking out her tongue. Without waiting for anymore dialogue, she quickly stuck her makeshift cup-on-a-stick out the window and into the rain.

"That's mom's good tea set," Phyla cautioned.

"Well I couldn't use a regular cup; without the handle this would never work," Myla said, rolling her eyes and pointing to the handle on the teacup in question. "And what's more dangerous: using mom's teacups or dad's coffee mug?"

"Dad's coffee mug," Phyla replied without hesitation.

"Exactly!" Myla cried triumphantly. "Besides, see? It works!" True enough, the cup was already filling up.

"That's not the point," Phyla said with a sigh. "Please pull the cup back in before you break it."

"It's not going to break," Myla said, looking the cup over. It was tied very nicely to the broomstick; the yarn was threaded through a hole in the broom that their father had drilled for hanging it on a nail in the kitchen, so it wasn't going to just slip off. "See, it's on there good," Myla said, waving the broom around for demonstrative purposes.

Phyla gasped in anticipation, but sure enough, the cup stayed put. After a few more minutes of filling, Myla pulled it back inside, careful not to spill her hard-earned treat.

"See? Chocolate," she said with a smug grin, her coat stained with chocolate milk on her upper lip after having emptied the cup. "And I didn't go outside. Told you."

"There's no way that worked," Phyla grumbled in disbelief, slapping a hoof to her face in frustration. After a few minutes of silence, and unable to take her sister's gloating, chocolate-stained smile any longer, Phyla sighed in defeat.

"Is it actually chocolate?" she asked skeptically, sounding as if she couldn't believe what she was saying.

"It really is," Myla replied happily. "And good chocolate at that."

Knowing that she was playing right into the trap Myla had laid, Phyla flushed with embarrassment. "Can I have some?"

Myla's already smug smirk shifted quickly into a know-it-all grin. "But I though you said it was stupid, and wouldn't work? Besides, the clouds don't make sense." Myla said the last bit in a nasally, way off-base impression of her smarty-pants sister, eyes crossed in mockery of her textbook babble.

"Yeah, I know what I said. But you proved me wrong; can't fight facts," Phyla grumbled, unable to deny her sister the right to gloat. After all, Phyla bragged all the time whenever she was right and Myla was wrong.

Myla thought for a few seconds, then shrugged. "Sure, you can have some. But you have to get it yourself."

Phyla was reluctant to take the broom-cup apparatus. At least while Myla was holding it Phyla had an out; that teacup was part of a set from their grandmother, and their mother loved it very much. If anything happened to it, Myla had always been mother's favorite... she'd probably get off without much trouble. Phyla wouldn't be quite as fortunate.

"What's the matter?" Myla asked, waving the cup-on-a-stick around as if to mock her fears. "Afraid you'll drop it?"

Scowling and sick of being looked down own for such a stupid series of events, Phyla took the broomstick. Without a word she stuck it out the window just like Myla had, fishing for chocolate.

The front door swung open suddenly, and time stopped for both the young mares as their mother's voice filtered in. "We're back! I know you two must have been so disappointed to stay inside while your father and I went into town, but it's a mess out there!"

Their mother kept on rambling, but it just became background noise from the front hallway as Phyla looked desperately at Myla.

"Set the broom and the cup outside!" Myla hissed suddenly. If their mother came in here and saw what they were doing...

"Are you crazy?" Phyla asked.

"Mom's not going to notice one missing teacup with things all crazy like they are! We can go outside and get it later when they go back into town for more letters or something!" she pleaded desperately.

"What about the broom?" Phyla asked, her voice shaking with panic. Of course they would come home when she was the one holding the instant-death-stick device!

"To the moon with the broom!" Myla growled, shaking Phyla's shoulders gently in desperation.

"But it'll be covered in chocolate when we bring it back in," Phyla whispered, realizing that if their father saw a chocolate covered broom, there would be explaining to do.

"I can explain the broom!" Myla said hurriedly. Hoofsteps from the kitchen and their mother's continued talking told them they hadn't much time left.

"Phyla..." Myla whispered, her voice showing frustration.

"I-I can't..." Phyla whispered, eyes wide with panic.

"Give me the broom," Myla said desperately.

"No!" Phyla declared firmly, though her voice was still little more than a whisper. "If we go put it back and wash it out, we won't get in trouble."

"Are you nuts?" Myla asked, looking over her shoulder. Their mother could no longer be seen in the kitchen, which meant that she could be anywhere. That was a dangerous prospect, and the two of them probably only had seconds at best before teacup hell entered the living room.

"I-It's not broken, everything's fine!" Phyla stammered, pulling the cup back in.

"If we leave it outside, we don't even have to explain anything to mom!" Myla growled, grabbing the broom and halting its advance.

"What are you girls doing?" came the curious voice of their mother, strained with worry and stress from having read many distraught letters from family members and friends suffering from the sudden changes in the world.

Myla watched it all happen as if in slow motion, because her heart seemed to have stopped, along with the rest of time. Out the corner of her eye she could see what she had been dreading; their mother, standing in the doorway to the kitchen and the living room.

Phyla had the opposite reaction from Myla, and panicked. She whirled around, eyes wide with fear, but she realized too late that she was still the one holding the broom with the teacup. Flying fast on the end of the lengthy broom handle, the poor piece of china stood no chance in hell as it connected with the window frame.

The sound of tinkling bits of glass snapped Myla out of her frozen state, but it also filled her with pure dread. She knew she was doomed as she watched Phyla finish turning to face their mother, pieces of the teacup sitting in a puddle of chocolate milk on the floor.

Their mother would never have realized it was one of her prized possessions, if not for the jagged quarter-teacup still attached to the broomstick by the handle, which Phyla was now holding behind her back in a terrible last ditch effort to hide it.

Their mother's face fell into a slack-jawed mask of pure horror for a few moments, her eyes shifting between her daughters, the bits of teacup on the floor, and the handle dangling loosely in a nest of yarn on the end of the broom. Then, very suddenly, her jaw clenched and her wide eyes fell into a scowl that promised a lifetime of grounding at the very least.

"There had better be a very, and I do mean very, good reason for why you destroyed one of your grandmother's teacups," she said slowly, her tone struggling between angry and stern. She was their mother after all, and she didn't want to lose it, but her children were in very deep trouble. They had been told many times not to play with that tea set.

Their father came in next, eyebrow quirked and curious to see what all the fuss was about. He stopped suddenly, eying the mess of glass on the floor. He scowled also, but unlike their mother, his tone was calm and controlled, which scared Myla and Phyla more than anything. He was usually a very humorous and lighthearted man, but they could see a scolding coming on from a mile away.

"Is that my coffee mug?" he asked seriously.

Despite the shock of imminent social death by eternal grounding, both sisters shook their heads frantically.

"It's one of mom's teacups, dear," Their mother replied quietly, trying to remain in control and keep from an outburst. Her children already looked terrified, they didn't need to be yelled at just yet.

Their father sighed, and shook his head. "I'll be upstairs in the den, then. Good luck, girls." With a placating hoof on their mother's shoulder, their father escaped what was about to become a mother-daughter argument.

Once he was gone, their mother's tone finally started to give into anger. "Let's get this over with. Which one of you two wants to explain what happened to me?" she asked seriously.

Phyla, already distraught from being roped into this in the first place, made the mistake that ruined her life, and her sister's. In her desperation and fear, she set the events into motion with three simple words.

Clutching the broom tightly and taking a deep breath to gain control of her fear, she looked head-on into her mother's angry eyes.

"It's Myla's fault."

Phyla dashed out of the house after Myla, their mother shouting for both of them to come back this instant. Phyla wasn't going to listen, no matter how much more trouble the two of them got in. Myla wasn't running from their mother anyways; she was running from her sister.

Both of them had gotten a severe shouting at, and a long lecture, but Myla had gotten an extra bit all to herself because of Phyla's lie.

"Why would you rope your sister into your silly pranks?" their mother had scolded her. "You and I both know she would never have been the type to do something like that. You two are twin sisters, you should be trying to be a good influence to one another, not causing trouble together!"

It had gone on for many more minutes, and all the while Phyla watched brokenhearted as her sister suffered yelling at and an extra grounding she didn't deserve. Myla never reacted, never even blinked, which only worried Phyla more. She just stood there, shoulders squared, and took the punishment like it didn't matter.

But as soon as it had ended, Myla had turned and bolted out of the house.

Phyla was breathing hard as she ran down the road after her sister. She was the studious one, always indoors and reading. Myla was always out and about, running and laughing and playing. She was easily in the better shape between the two of them, and she was quickly pulling away.

Phyla knew where she was going, though. Despite that she knew it wouldn't help, she called out to Myla over and over to try and get her attention, to get her to stop. Phyla's lungs burned, but the guilt for hurting her sister ached more than anything physical ever could.

She finally spotted her right where she knew she'd be; huddled under a tree just outside the decorative wall that surrounded the town. It was her private place, not that it actually was one. You could see if from the road and everything, and plenty of the neighborhood kids used the tree as a popular play zone. But anytime Myla wanted to be alone, this was where she ran to.

Generally 'alone' counted everyone except Phyla, but this time she knew that she was just like everypony else, and Myla didn't want to talk to her. Phyla stood on the road, kneading her hooves back and forth and biting her lip. If she went over there, there would be more yelling. Yet she couldn't just let things go the way they were going. She owed Myla an apology.

Her mind made up, she galloped over, panting from the run over from the house. "Myla..." she said quietly, trying to sound apologetic from the very get go.

"Go away!" Myla cried, and it was clear already that she had been sobbing the whole run over to the tree.

"Myla, I'm sorry..." Phyla said sadly, her ears folded flat to match the emotion of sorrow in her eyes.

"Sorry?" Myla asked, standing up suddenly and whirling on Phyla. "Sorry huh?" she growled angrily.

"Y-yes? Of course I am..." Phyla stammered, backing up a step.

"Sorry doesn't cut it!" Myla shouted, slashing a hoof through the air to illustrate her point. "Because of your big, stupid mouth, I'm grounded for a month! A month! And you're grounded for just two weeks! What's the point of that huh? All you do is stay inside anyways. I'm the one who goes places and does things. All you do is read!" she screamed, walking closer to Phyla with every sentence.

Phyla, at a loss for words, simply backpedaled to keep from causing a physical confrontation. She stopped suddenly as she realized she was being rained on by chocolate again. Myla stood safe and dry under the leaves only a few feet away, but Phyla didn't complain. Tears welled in her eyes as her sister kept yelling at her, but she didn't fight back. She deserved this.

"I always covered for you! All the time! Remember the time you were home late from the library? Mom was worried sick, and I told her that I invited you over to the Bottle's party because I thought you felt left out. Or what about the time where..."

Phyla listened carefully at first as her long list of salvation at Myla's hooves came to light, but she quickly became lost in her own thoughts. It wasn't surprising to see how many times it had happened, but Phyla had always been unaware of it on the surface. It just seemed like the thing between them; Myla was the one best suited to handle trouble. Myla was often times the one who caused it, truth be told.

Phyla had never once covered for Myla. To make herself feel a little better, Phyla quietly told herself that that would be hard to do. Myla was always out and about, causing trouble Phyla generally didn't know about. She couldn't help with problems she'd never even heard about until it was too late and it was punishment time. Phyla wasn't a good liar like Myla; she couldn't just make up a story on the spot about how it had been her fault and not her sister's.

The truth was that Phyla had watched for years and years as Myla got in trouble, ever since they were little. Myla never complained, always took the brunt of it, and then just laughed it off. But Phyla was afraid to be in trouble. Myla had always protected her from that.

This wasn't like other times when she had made a simple mistake. Myla had had the entire situation with the teacup under control. If she had gone with Myla's plan, nothing would have happened. They would have gone out, gotten the teacup later, and put it back with no harm done.

Myla had tried to save Phyla by having her hide the cup. But for the first time, and without knowing it, Phyla had rejected her help. Phyla had had her chance to let Myla help her, and had turned it down.

Phyla clenched her jaw, tears and chocolate rain alike dripping from it into a puddle she couldn't see because it was suddenly nighttime. Myla had just been trying to help, and after refusing to follow her advice, Phyla had thrown her to the wolves when things went sour. All because she was afraid of being the one in trouble.

When the sun came back again after a few moments, Myla was simply standing under the leaves, glaring and breathing heavily, her momentum spent.

"I've always looked out for you, and you sold me out," Myla said coldly, as if somehow she had known all along that Phyla wasn't truly listening, and needed a summary.

That summary weighed a thousand tons on her heart. It was the summary of everything Myla had said, and everything Phyla had thought for the past minutes.

"But what should I expect? Everything's just numbers to you, isn't it?" Myla asked snidely, her tone angry and rude. "It probably didn't take you very long to realize you'd be grounded less if you just blamed me."

That stung more to Phyla than anything so far. Just numbers? "T-that's not true..." Phyla sniffled quietly. "I just panicked."

"All you ever think about is what makes sense and what doesn't! Funny thing is that it makes perfect sense to take the blame for something you did. I had it all figured out; you're the one who broke the stupid cup!" Myla roared.

That was enough to make Phyla switch over from dejected to angry. "I told you it's not like that!" Phyla shouted back. "I just panicked! But what would you know about panicking? You're in trouble all the time, so big deal right? All you ever do is have fun, you never think about being the responsible one. None of this would have happened if you had just left the teacup alone in the first place!" she screamed.

There was a moment of tension between the two of them that was almost tangible, sparks flying between their glaring eyes until at last, as if by some unspoken signal, the two of them jumped at each other with a yell. They kicked and rolled, pulling manes, biting ears; anything to let their anger out physically and prove they were each right and the other was wrong.

Not one bit of it hurt like the words they had spoken.

"Well, this is definitely one of the more interesting things I've seen today. To be honest I'm a little jealous I'm not the one who caused all the trouble," came a mockingly sad voice neither of the sister's recognized from the tree behind them. "But I suppose chaos happens on its own sometimes. It's a good thing I found it before it ran itself out," came the voice again, this time sounding as if the speaker had a mouthful of something.

The two mares whirled around, quickly breaking up the fight to look for their unexpected observer.

"Oh, don't stop on my account," chuckled the speaker. From out of the shade of the tree stepped a creature unlike anything the sisters had ever seen before. It seemed to be a mixture of all odds and ends of things; part goat, bird, lion, even dragon. The creature tossed aside an empty popcorn bag, which promptly caught fire and burned away before even hitting the ground, the tall mismatched thing still chewing on its last pawful of kernels.

Phyla recognized it immediately from a description she had read in a biology book once. "Draconeqquis..." she whispered fearfully, her anger quickly enveloped by a sense of dread.

"You got it. Kind of impressive, don't you think?" The creature asked with a fanged smile that seemed more mischievous than threatening, turning about and flexing his mismatched arms for show.

Myla, however, had heard nothing about any such creature, and couldn't give half a care. "What do you want?" she huffed angrily, still pissed off and not in the mood for visitors.

The creature put on a sad expression and pressed a lion's paw to his chest in mock hurt. "Why, just to watch the show. Unfortunately it seems like the two of you don't like an audience."

"No, we don't. Get lost," Myla said angrily, turning back to glare at Phyla as if that would be the end of it and the draconeqquis would just leave like she said.

"Well, correct me if I'm wrong, but it doesn't sound like you two are done fighting yet," the creature said idly, eying the nails on its eagle-talon of a left hand as if trying to play casual, and doing a very poor job of it.

"That's none of your business," Myla grumbled.

Phyla, who had up until now remained in shocked silence, muttered something also, but neither Myla nor the creature heard it.

"Actually, it is my business," the creature chuckled excitedly, as if that prospect just made him the happiest thing alive. "You see, my name is Discord. I'm the Lord of Chaos, and I have to tell you, I can smell chaos between the two of you a mile away. It smells a bit like cinnamon," he said with a sly smile.

"What do you want with us?" Phyla asked fearfully. Myla, for her part, didn't seem to catch on.

"Listen, lord of whatever, I'm not done beating up my sister yet," she said gruffly.

"Oh, sisters shouldn't fight," Discord said with a pout. "It just breaks my heart. I think I can help the two of you sort this whole mess out, clean as a whistle," he said with an odd smile that even punched through Myla's shield of anger, making her uncomfortable.

"And how's that?" she asked skeptically, unable to shake the feeling of dread in her stomach.

"Myla, the fun-loving one. Quick to laugh and quick to anger, any smile's worth some danger," Discord chuckled, suddenly kneeling next to Myla, his draconic tail looped around her as if trapping her in a living fence, a lion's paw pressed tight against her side as he hugged her close and whispered those words in her ear.

Myla stiffened immediately in fear and confusion, but no sooner had she registered what was happening than he was gone as suddenly as he had been next to her.

"Phyla, the logical sister. No time for silly fun and games, the world to you is numbers and names," he whispered in the other mare's ear, his embrace similarly sudden and close before he vanished once more.

He appeared again before them suddenly, tapping his mismatched fingers together in clear delight. "How wonderful! You both see each other as complete opposites," he laughed.

"What's so funny?" Myla asked, unnerved and still angry.

"Oh, nothing," Discord said, wiping a tear of mirth from his eye. "Just that the two of you are fighting over who's right about the other, when really you're both right."

"What are you talking about?" Phyla asked, confused.

"Well, if you could just agree that you were either both right, or both wrong, you wouldn't be fighting," Discord pointed out. "But you both think you're right and the other is wrong. So solving your problem is easy; I'll just prove you're both right," he said, snapping his fingers.

"How do you plan to do that?" Phyla asked cautiously.

"Why, with a friendly game!" Discord said with a smile. "I'll even let you pick what we play! It's very simple; if the two of you win, you can go back to your horrible fight," he said, clasping his hands together over his chest and tearing up a little as if that were the saddest thing he could imagine.

"And if you win?" Myla asked, now equally as skeptical as her sister.

"Well then, I'll prove you both right. Either way, you win! Isn't that great?" Discord said with a happy smile, as if it were just the clearest, simplest thing ever.

Myla and Phyla looked at one another, confused. How could he just prove them both right? For once, Myla could agree with the conclusion she saw in Phyla's eyes; this didn't make any sense at all. As if through some form of telepathy, the two girls nodded.

"Fine, the game is chess," Phyla said simply. She and her sister had played almost every day together since they were very young, and though Phyla was the better of the two, being on a team against Discord would help their odds.

"Oh, it's been a while since I've played that one," he said with a scowl. "There are so many rules, it ties my stomach in knots just thinking about it," he griped. Even so, he snapped his fingers, and out of thin air appeared an ornate chessboard and a full set of ivory and onyx pieces. "Still, I did promise to let you pick the game."

Another snap later, and three chairs appeared around the board. Discord took his, sighing in comfort as he settled in at the black set of pieces.

Phyla and Myla sat as well. Being the white set, they moved first, sliding a pawn out a couple of spaces ahead.

The last thing they ever remembered together was the sight of glowing yellow eyes, and the wicked grin of a perfect predator.

"When we woke up, we found ourselves in a single white room. It had no windows, no paintings. Only two chairs, a chessboard, and a single black door," Myla said quietly. "All I could remember was feeling angry; so angry. I was so furious that it actually burned inside. It hurt," she said, tears streaming down her face.

"The last thing I remembered was the fight Phyla and I had been having. I couldn't control myself, and I attacked my sister in that strange room. But she didn't fight back, she just let me hit her... over and over," Myla sobbed. "Then she told me the fight was pointless. She told me that Discord had been right; that we had been right about each other. She never showed a single emotion through the whole thing. No sadness, no anger. Nothing," she whispered, wiping her tears away.

"We sat for what felt like days. Anytime I tried to talk to her, she wouldn't have much to say. Anytime I apologized for attacking her when I woke up, she would just say that she knew why I had done it. Eventually she explained to me how we had changed. I didn't know how she knew it, but somehow I knew she was right. We had both become exactly what the other had said we were. We slowly learned the rules for controlling the body we now share; it all revolves around that chessboard in the strange white room. We have to play, and whoever wins controls the body; like some sick joke Discord left behind to remind us of how we had ruined our own lives." Myla laid her head down on the floor tiredly, as if she just couldn't find the heart to hold her head up anymore.

A long pause followed. Twilight sat in shocked silence, unable to think clearly for a few moments. The quiet had been going on long enough now for her to know that the story was over, but there was so much going on in her head that things still seemed loud. It was just so much to take in, and though it had taken only an hour to hear it all, it felt like it had been days. Their story was all at once almost laughably simple, and yet so tragic.

They had just been young mares then; younger than Twilight even, though not by much. It had been five long years since Twilight and her friends had turned Discord back into stone, five years since she had even given that adventure a single thought. It was strange to hear the name mentioned again, and even stranger to hear tales of other places affected by his brief return.

Most importantly of all, though, the story explained everything. Discord, the wager, even the fight between the sisters. Everything in it was a recipe for pure chaos, and it fit perfectly. Discord's magic was certainly powerful enough to merge the twins into one being; for him, such a thing would have been so simple.

But this level of meddling was unlike anything Twilight had seen before. With these two mares, Discord had gone farther than anything she had been able to see with her own eyes during the time of his return. Floating buildings, rapidly shifting day and night, and chocolate rain were certainly chaotic, but they were simple.

This type of chaos was horrific; the type that could ruin two lives completely. Somehow, unlike all the other problems Discord had caused, this one had not ever resolved itself when he was imprisoned again.

"It makes sense now that you're both the same pony. Just twin sisters, trapped in one form," Twilight said sadly, sighing as she finally reached all of her conclusions. "Even the room makes sense; it's a place in your shared mind, where Discord forces you to relive the game that changed you every day." It was a terrible existence, one Twilight couldn't see as anything like the other mischief of Discord.

"You remind me of her," Myla said suddenly, her tone melancholy and her eyes closed with her chin still on the office floor.

Twilight felt confused again for the umpteenth time that day. "Of who?"

"Phyla. Before she changed. Always thinking, saying what makes sense and what doesn't," she said with an empty laugh. "I even recognize the sad look in your eye; it's the same one she used to look at me with anytime I took a yelling at for her. Like you think it's your fault and you're sorry, but you don't know what to do."

Twilight was shocked. It was as if Myla could read her thoughts perfectly. Twilight had thought over and over since learning the horror of their condition that if she had just been able to defeat Discord sooner, this young mare and her sister would have been spared their fate. It was true, she didn't know what she could do to help; all the other problems had solved themselves.

"I don't know why I'm telling you all of this," Myla said, the empty laugh echoing off the walls of the cubicles once more. "I mean, you're my rival for Gearrick's love. That's how I know you, anyways. But everything is so wrong now; this isn't how it was supposed to happen," she said, a shaky sigh leaving her lips. "And I can't help but see my sister in you. She sees it too, I think. It's why she's going so far to keep you trapped here. She's afraid of you."

"Why?" Twilight asked, unable to process it all, still a little taken aback by the strange trust Myla had shown by telling her that story.

"Because she knows that if anypony could stop her, it would be somepony like her old self," Myla said with a sigh.

"I wish I could help..." Twilight said sadly, her ears going flat. "I feel the same way about you; rivals, I guess. But what happened to you isn't fair. It's terrifying."

"I guess we agree on something else," Myla said quietly. "I've been against you this entire time, and I don't even know your name."

"Twilight," the purple unicorn replied, not giving it a second thought. "Yours?"

No response came for a few moments, so Twilight stole a glance at her unnamed companion. Though she had been laying down and hanging her head as if exhausted only moments before, she now sat up stock straight, her black ears perked as if in panic. Her magenta gaze burned holes in Twilight's own amethyst eyes.

"Myla..." she replied mechanically. Her sudden attention was alarming, and her gaze, though it was clearly fixed on Twilight, seemed as if it were somewhere else. As if she were seeing her without seeing her.

"What's wrong?" Twilight asked, her voice full of concern. Something wasn't right.

"You're Twilight Sparkle..." Myla whispered, as if she couldn't believe it.

It hit Twilight suddenly like a ton of bricks. Her name had been on the front page of every newspaper in every town hit by Discord for her triumph over chaos. Tackton, Myla's home, wouldn't have been any different. Everyone there would have known that she was the one who had defeated Discord.

Including two young mares whose lives had been torn to shreds.

Twilight put a hoof to her mouth as she realized what that must mean to Myla, the only sister of the two who could still feel emotions like anger, and a desire for revenge.

Myla stood suddenly, her face shifting from shock to a scowl of determination. She started heading for the suit, which caused Twilight to leap to her hooves and follow her.

"What are you doing?" Twilight asked, afraid of what the emotional mare might accomplish with the suit at her command.

"I'm letting you out," she said defiantly, her voice sharp with an edge of anger. "Forget everything else; even compared to my love for Gearrick, my hate for Discord comes first. There hasn't been a single moment since Discord changed us where I didn't think of revenge for what he'd done to my sister and I. There hasn't been a single emotion I've felt since that day that was stronger than my hate for that creature... and you stopped him," she whispered quietly, pausing before the device that kept Twilight trapped.

"Myla..." Twilight started, unable to comprehend the level of emotion she would have to feel to go against her sister in favor of the mare who had gotten her the revenge she had wanted.

"Even if we never get to change back, I owe you... My sister would understand, if she still could," she said sadly, reaching for the suit.

Myla froze suddenly, a visible shiver running through her. Without warning she collapsed, inches from the suit.

Twilight tried to rush over to her as her typical concern took hold, but of course the barrier stopped her. "What's going on?" Twilight asked worriedly. Myla seemed to be slowing down, almost as if she were being frozen solid moment by moment. Her coat began to fade from black to grey, and her eyes lost all color, shifting to black.

"I... I'm sorry," Myla whispered, her words sounding as if she were very tired. "I... lost track of the time..." she said, closing her eyes.

"I don't understand," Twilight said, laying down and getting her face as close to the light wall and Myla as she could without being shocked.

"There's rules... It's not my turn anymore," Myla gasped, clearly struggling to keep conscious long enough to explain. "Now Phyla and I have to fight... for the body. And I don't think she's going to let me win this time."

"Hang on," Twilight whispered desperately, flinging spell after spell at the barrier in an effort to break through and get to Myla. Her concern ignored logic as she attempted spells she had long ago already given up hope on in her efforts to escape. The office danced with angry blue and purple light, casting stark shadows everywhere.

"If it's not me who wakes up, you stop her... Nothing you can do for me..." Myla whispered, a few rapid breaths sounding almost like a laugh to Twilight. "I'm sorry I can't let you out..."

"Just hang on!" Twilight growled, horn flaring brilliantly as she unleashed even more magic to try and help Myla remain in control, even if she had no idea how to.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry..." Myla's lips kept moving, even when her voice finally stopped. Twilight's hopes of escaping vanished on the wings of that tired, silent apology.

XI: Resonance and Harmony

Gearrick looked up at the five-story office building. This was the old Gearbox Guild headquarters for certain; the faded and splotched outline of the letters "GG" adorned the top, where the large, well-lit initials of the company had once been fastened before their relocation.

Blue light flickered dimly through the dingy windows above on the fourth floor, a blue light he recognized well from his fight with Mick Magnet earlier that very night. It was easy to make out in the dark, for even though this section of the city had streetlamps like any other, it was not as brightly lit as the primary areas of the city further from the riverside.

This region had no night-life to speak of, because all of the businesses here were private. Some were manufacturers, others accounting firms, but regardless there was nothing here that would draw a pony to it and, being a business-only region, it would be a ghost-town after dusk when the ponies who worked there went home from their jobs. Nopony would have been around to see a midnight kidnapper, or to witness the electric-blue glow of the powerful machine that had aided her in her crimes.

Gearrick silently berated himself for not thinking of it sooner. Plenty of shady business was conducted on this end of the riverfront. Still, without confronting Magnet he never would have learned of the precise location of the guild's old headquarters, a building not used in over five years, by the look of things.

He quickly ran over his plan again. His suit had taken a bit of damage in the fight with Mick, as had his shoulder, which ached badly from the gash his armor had given him. He couldn't hope to rely on the machine to handle another full-out fight with Mick's Markiver device while the thing was plugged in and receiving nearly infinite power.

But he had learned enough to know that without that great supply of energy, the capacitors inside the suit were only so much junk waiting to be fried by the R.A.D. He would be hard-pressed to get anywhere near the suit without first disabling it somewhat, or getting it to run its power low enough.

Even then, he wouldn't have much energy in his own suit to finish the job. The R.A.D. wasn't built to last; the capacitors were burning themselves out charging and discharging in a manner that they had never been designed for. This fight would go very differently from his fight with Mick, he knew.

It would come down to Twilight's condition. He had been thinking over and over about her during his mad run over, moving as quickly as he could across the city through back-alleys and even along rooftops at a few points, levitating himself across the gaps.

The things Mick had said hadn't mattered at the time to Gearrick, he had been too engrossed in the fight for his life and Twilight's safety. But with so much time to think, he couldn't help himself. If it were true, and she really was Celestia's student, then he knew he could depend on her. Even he had heard stories about Celestia's apprentice, the Element of Magic, yet he'd never known her by name until tonight.

The fact that it was Twilight Sparkle, his Twilight, didn't change anything about how he felt for her. No matter how powerful she was, she hadn't come back to the warehouse, hadn't gone to the police. She'd never come back from the kidnapping, and she was in danger. Somehow, some way, she was trapped, or hurt... or worse.

Gearrick's already grim expression shifted to one of anger. "I hope you're ready, Phyla. You might have been able to catch me by surprise once, but now it's my turn," he muttered to himself, walking as calmly as he could into the first floor of the building. He couldn't afford to make any moves that would announce his arrival and put Twilight in even more potential danger.

Not until the field was set in Twilight's favor.

Gearrick trotted over to the elevator doors, which were closed shut. He didn't dare push the button, though he doubted the machine was even active anyways, but the last thing he needed was the damned thing dinging on about exactly which floor he was intruding on.

With his magic he managed to peel the heavy steel doors aside just enough to fit his hooves into the gap. Pulling those doors open was harder than lifting the Nomad, for they had been locked in place by some hidden mechanism that didn't much care for the idea of budging.

Gearrick didn't much care what the locking mechanism felt like doing.

Grunting with the effort, Gearrick pulled with all his might, the suit groaning as the metal gears that powered its motion ground against one another with the strain. He lent his magic to the task as well, pushing with both his mind and his machine until at last, with a loud crack, the bronze locking pins that had held the door snapped in two and the doors shot open. Gearrick halted them abruptly with his magic to keep them from slamming into anything and making enough noise to echo up the shaft to the fourth floor, where he figured Twilight was being held.

His objective was in the other direction, down to the basement level. Cold air wafted up from below, trapped for years in the long drop of the elevator shaft. Craning his neck, he could see the elevator above, apparently stuck on the second floor where its last use had left it sitting. He could see the bottom through the copper glow of his magic, and so he jumped the fifteen-foot drop, cushioning his landing with a spell.

He repeated his less-than-ideal method of opening the metal security doors, finally walking through into a plain, darkened hallway. There were no lights on anywhere, and no emergency exit signs present for this underground area of the building; a safety violation to be sure. Still, Gearrick knew that the building still had power, just as he had expected. He could hear the humming of the building's switch room from down the hall.

Recovered enough to continue, Gearrick looked at the meter on his shoulder. Very nearly empty. He would have to charge up quickly before he put his plan into action, and what better place to do so than at the main power line for the old office building?

Kicking open the doors, he took a habitual comfort in the quiet buzz of the various switchboards and the smell of metal. The faithful machines still did their work years later, even with nopony to benefit from their labors. They had simply been running, and waiting.

Gearrick set the ring to spinning on his left hoof, placing it on a switchboard. As the metal ground against the circuitry, sparks flew and electricity arced into his armor, the gauge on his shoulder rising again. It stopped suddenly, refusing to rise past what appeared to be fifty percent. Gearrick withdrew his hoof with a sigh, having suspected all along that this would come to pass.

He'd put the circuitry in his suit through too much already, and the system had degraded. If he'd had more time to spend on it he could have stabilized it, but that wasn't the case. He would just have to work with what little he had. He didn't let it distract him from his mission, and he quickly spotted what he had really come down here for.

A series of red levers stuck out of various bronze boxes: the master switches for the office building. Smirking to himself in anticipation for what was to come, he quickly made his way over to them, his red goggles hiding the eagerness in his eyes. This was it; time to save Twilight.

Or, perhaps more appropriately, it was time to give her the chance to save herself. Gearrick lit his horn, lining all six of the switches in his copper glow, one for each of the floors on this building.

"I hope you're ready, Twilight..." he said quietly, concern and excitement alike in his tone.

Twilight watched in shock as the pony on the floor quickly became something that was clearly not Myla. Her spots shifted to black, and the coat to white. Only the mane and tail remained the same midnight blue. The white mare slowly got the her hooves, fixing Twilight with cold, deep-blue eyes that looked at her like she was just some thing, not a pony.

"Phyla..." Twilight growled with distaste. Despite knowing what she now did about the white twin's past, what she had become was far from respectable, or pleasant. Twilight couldn't deny the hurt she felt for Phyla now, but knew just as Myla had that there was nothing to be done about it when face to face with her.

Like Myla had said, Twilight would have to stop her.

"Twilight," Phyla replied calmly, clearly not worried at all by Twilight's threatening glare or her tense posture. Her mane had fallen across one eye during the changeover, but the heartless mare didn't make any move to relocate it. Twilight quietly realized that only being able to see half of Phyla's face made her seem even less like a pony than she already did.

"It would appear that my sister cannot be trusted, and does not understand what it is I am trying to accomplish," she said plainly, her one visible, cold eye boring into Twilight.

"Trusted?" Twilight asked, slightly unnerved by her complete lack of reaction, despite that she had had it explained to her quite thoroughly.

"Yes. I allowed her control for twenty-four hours on the condition that she would seek out Gearrick and attempt her advances on him a second time. It appears that she was unable to find him and, rather than surrendering the body back to me, disclosed a great deal of unnecessary information to you. I am afraid that my involvement in this process will have to become much more personal. It is clear that I cannot depend on her to act in accord with her own feelings as I once did."

A shiver ran up Twilight's spine as Phyla's words itched like frost forming on her coat. "You're going to trap her in there, until you get your way..." Twilight concluded, doing her best to keep her voice from wavering with concern.

"Yes," Phyla replied with a simple nod. "She does not understand the intricate steps required for this plan to succeed. Fortunately the damage she has caused by disobeying me is not so severe, as she was unable to find Gearrick. I had not suspected that she would go so far as to try and thwart my plans for her happiness, so I cannot allow her to interfere any further."

"She doesn't understand?" Twilight asked, her concern shifting quickly to anger. "Her happiness? The one interfering in plans for her happiness is you!" Twilight roared suddenly, her emotions getting the better of her. "If you really care about her happiness, you would stop this and realize that what you're doing is hurting ponies! Hurting her!"

"That is not relevant. In time she will see the good I am doing for her. She will forgive me when she is with Gearrick, and then she will be happy. It is like the progression of states of matter; even if the state you desire is solid, you must first go through liquid at the very least, a state you do not want," Phyla said quietly. "It is the result that matters in the end, not the process."

"You call yourself her sister?" Twilight asked, aghast. How could she think so coldly about this?

"I do. I was born with her, biologically we are sisters. There is more, as well, but you would not understand," Phyla said, and though there was nothing in her tone at all, Twilight couldn't shake the feeling that those words were meant to be sad. Nothing gave it away, yet she knew.

"What do you mean I wouldn't understand?" Twilight asked hesitantly, unable to part with the feeling of sorrow she was getting from Phyla.

"I cannot impart to you the state I am in. It is... difficult, being unable to feel what Myla feels, and thus understand her motivations. Because of this, she appears greatly irrational and complicated to me. Likewise, she cannot fathom my ability to think unhindered by such things," Phyla said, nodding to herself while she spoke, as if she were not sure if what she was saying was an adequate description.

"You have already heard all of this from my sister. But there is something she did not tell you, because she does not know it. Or rather, I think she does not believe it is true, even though I am not capable of lying," Phyla said, a gentle spark of something showing in her ice-cold eye for only a brief moment. "She does not believe that, though I cannot feel emotions like I once did, that I still love her. That she is the only one left that I can have feelings for, even when they are not the feelings she knows and understands."

Twilight's reply bounced around in her mind for a few seconds, and then simply faded away. Sisterly love was the only thing Phyla could still feel, and then for a sister she could only see in that room in their mind. A sister she couldn't hold, or touch ever again.

"Myla's happiness is of the greatest importance to me, the one great illogical part of my new life. I could have continued doing work without paying mind to her heart's fancies for Mr. Tinkermane. It would have been the sensible choice. But instead I chose to pursue her desire over what I knew would be more profitable and would sustain our existence. I cannot change what I am, and so even in handling this she considers me wrong and inept," she said quietly. "She and I see different things, and through my actions I see a logical conclusion in which she has exactly what it is she wants: Tinkermane."

"That's not what she wants anymore," Twilight said suddenly, snapping out of her reverie regarding the explanation. "She doesn't want that, if it means hurting him!"

"But she wants him still. It is the only path I see that will make it possible," Phyla replied curtly.

"And what about her? Don't you care about what she sees? Where she thinks this is going?" Twilight asked angrily.

"I cannot see that," Phyla muttered. "For me, it is not possible. I am only doing the most that I can to ensure her desire."

"She told me to stop you," Twilight said with a glare. "Your own sister told me to stop you. Doesn't that mean anything?"

"Yes..." Phyla said coldly, turning away from Twilight, and facing the Markiver device. "It means that I cannot rely on her, even for the sake of herself." The machine hissed, the panels all suddenly springing outward and opening the suit to Phyla. She climbed in without hesitation, the plating locking back into place around her.

"What are you doing?" Twilight asked fearfully. Unlike Myla, she highly doubted that Phyla would be letting her go.

"I am afraid that I must render you unconscious once more, and relocate you. It is possible that Myla found a way to contact Tinkermane and reveal this location to him. Until he surrenders to my demands, I cannot risk your rescue at his hooves," she said, her voice metallic through the suit's speakers.

Twilight backed away as far as she could, but the loud hum of the light wall at her back warned her that another step would see her electrocuted.

"Do not fight me. You cannot hope to overpower this machine while it is at full capacity," she cautioned. "Lay down and surrender." Phyla made no move to walk the suit into the circle, defeating Twilight's panicked hope that somehow she would get the chance to unplug it.

"Like hell," she growled, clenching her jaw against the adrenaline that screamed at her to run away. Still, with the light wall standing her coat on end, she knew there was nowhere to go.

"You leave me no-" Phyla began, the suit emitting a high-pitched whine in preparation for some sort of attack. Twilight winced preemptively, but her eyes shot back wide as the feeling of the light wall at her back vanished instantly, and all light in the room went out abruptly, leaving behind only the glowing suit.

"Illogical," Phyla complained emptily. Two large, metal-framed cubicle walls lifted to either side of her suddenly, and she flung them as hard as she could at Twilight.

Twilight's mind was already racing long before the lights went out, and so it took her less than a second to realize what had happened. The power had been cut, and the suit was now running only on its built-in power supplies. While it was probably fully charged, it no longer had the limitless power it needed to project the light wall and trap her.

"Illogical?" Twilight shot back, blasting the cubicles panels aside with a barrier, the two miniature walls spinning away and crashing into various other things with enough force to have definitely knocked her out. "It's perfectly logical," she said with a wide grin. She had lost to this machine once before, but only because Phyla had caught her by surprise. Now it was the other way around.

"It does not make sense. The power grid is stable city-wide," Phyla returned coldly, the single, visible eye under her visor dancing back and forth as she scoured her mind for an answer. That eye settled abruptly on Twilight as she reached her conclusion.

"Gearrick's come to save me," Twilight said with confidence, the urge to laugh suddenly coming over her. She let one, just one, fly free; a laugh of mixed disbelief, anxiety, and true relief.

Phyla was silent for a moment, and then the suit shrieked with the sound of an impending attack. "No matter. I will continue my previous plan; you will be rendered unconscious, and relocated," she said quietly.

Twilight grinned as more objects filled the air around Phyla, not a one of them concerning. "Let's see what that suit's really made of," she said, pawing the ground with her front hoof.

More objects whirled at her, and Twilight shattered them with beams of light from her horn. Realizing that fighting the suit at a distance would leave her at a disadvantage, she quickly resolved to get closer to it at her next opportunity. As a cubicle panel flew for her, she got her chance. The furniture piece rocketed through a cloud of purple light and out the office window as Twilight vanished from sight.

Phyla's reaction to the complimenting purple flash of light directly behind her was not fast enough. Having never undone the power cabling around her, she stumbled as the cords snared her hooves when she tried to whirl around. If her eyes could have widened in shock, they certainly would have as purple light flooded her visor.

The barrier slammed into Phyla before she could create a field to part it, flinging her across the room as fast as an arrow. The cables in the wall snapped free, trailing behind her like the flames of a phoenix until she collided with the floor, the suit crunching loudly as it rolled.

Sadly it showed no visible damage, nor did Phyla show any signs of pain as she got back to her hooves.

Twilight wasted no time in duplicating her recently successful tactic, but this time Phyla was ready. When Twilight reappeared from her teleportation, she was immediately slammed by a cubicle wall. It hit her flat-first, as if it were a racket and she were a ball. The physics of such an analogy applied well as she flew backward, slamming into one of the metal beams that held the ceiling aloft.

The impact knocked the wind out of her and hurt terribly, but she didn't have the time to think about it as the same panel came back in to slam her again. She blasted it into pieces, jagged bits of the wood and shredded metal frame scratching her as they flew past.

She staggered on her hooves as she fell to the floor, gasping for breath to try and recover from the crushing force of her hit with the support beam. It was immediately clear that she wouldn't get the chance to recuperate as another piece of furniture rocketed in from behind her along the ground, knocking her hooves out from under her and dropping her onto her side in a heap.

She rolled onto her back just in time to see an office chair screaming down at her from above, about to slam into her. She teleported out of the way on reflex, watching with a wince as the chair blew apart from its collision with the floor. That would have done much, much worse than just knock her out. Phyla was not playing around anymore, and not just trying to get Twilight out of here.

It was if she were angry, or afraid.

Still, it was clear that Phyla was winning the fight for now. That armor shielded her body, a benefit Twilight sadly lacked. What was worse, Twilight had forgotten just how much magical energy she had expended trying to escape, and then later to save Myla. Adrenaline could only do so much, and she realized that she might run out of the power necessary to keep up the fight long before the suit ran out of energy.

Phyla stood ahead of her, the suit glowing and whining as it wound up for another round. Twilight was not getting any breaks, it seemed. Phyla was clearly very good at realizing a tactic the very first time it was used, and defending against it. Without a steady supply of new tricks, and the time and energy to execute them, Twilight would be hard-pressed.

"Surrender, so that I am not forced to injure you," Phyla ordered.

"You're not forced to do anything," Twilight growled, rolling her head to crack her neck and ease the pain in her back. "Why don't you give up?" she asked, using the trash-talk to come up with her next move. Her memories of Phyla's first attack were clear in her mind as she formulated her strategy; one Princess Celestia had taught Aurus years ago.

Without warning, Twilight fired a beam of light at Phyla, her heart racing as she realized the timing would have to be perfect.

As she suspected, Phyla caught the beam just as she had in the warehouse, the purple laser spinning around her like some kind of ponified atom. Twilight readied herself for what came next, her concentration perfect as the laser she had fired rocketed back at her.

She erected five small barriers around herself; purple orbs floating at very specific angles to one another. The laser collided with the first and then bounced between the remaining four, changing angles until at last it lanced straight back for Phyla.

The white mare had not expected Twilight to redirect her own attack, and was unable to catch the laser a second time as it hit home. The beam slammed into her shoulder, throwing her backward and lifting her from the floor due to the sheer force of the impact.

Phyla rose slowly to her hooves, this time panting from what Twilight assumed must have been pain. Even through the plating of that suit, a blow as heavy as one of Twilight's lasers would sting at the very least. The panel the laser had smashed into was dimmed out and smoking slightly, though there was clearly no fire.

Twilight teleported to her head-on, hoping to use her recovery as an opening and strike while the iron was hot. Phyla wasn't easily surprised, however, and was ready when Twilight appeared before her suddenly. As Twilight readied her next spell, Phyla lashed out with one of her hooves, poking Twilight hard in the chest. Still, it wasn't the hit that did the damage.

The suit whined, and Twilight screamed, her cry muffled by her clenched jaw as the electric current assaulted her entire body, locking her muscles up tight. The shock kept up for what felt like minutes, the pain excruciating and unbearable. Her heart fluttered and she feared that it would stop in her chest, until at last she crumpled to the floor, breathing hard with tears in her eyes.

Phyla loomed over her suddenly, her ice-blue eye gazing into Twilight's pained face with nothing in it; no malice, no pity.

"It seems you are alive," she stated simply, raising a hoof in preparation to kick her as she had in the warehouse. "That is fortunate. Now you see the inevitability of interfering with my plans; they are only logical."

She moved to stomp down, and Twilight closed her eyes in anticipation of the sudden burst of pain and impending blackness of unconsciousness.

Through her residual pain, she kept thinking one thing over and over: she couldn't lose, couldn't be taken away again. Gearrick had given her this chance for freedom and she couldn't give up, no matter the aching in her muscles and the pounding in her head.

Twilight's eyes snapped open abruptly, glowing as white as the sun off fresh snow. The luminescence of her gaze was so powerful that Phyla staggered backward a few steps, the brightness stinging her eyes even through the glowing barrier of her visor.

Twilight slowly drifted up from the floor, as if gravity had simply forgotten her. She didn't land back on her hooves, but instead remained hovering there, appearing as if she were standing on the air. Her expression was impossible to read through the burning brightness of her eyes, and the blazing purple magic that stained the air all about the room.

"What are you doing?" Phyla asked, recovering from the sudden burst of light and readying the Markiver Device for an attack.

"You won't take me away again," Twilight said quietly, calmly. "I have a reason to stay."

"A reason to stay?" Phyla asked blankly. "That does not make sense."

"It doesn't have to. Now you see the inevitability of interfering with my plans," Twilight said mockingly.

The Markiver Device whined to life, but before anything could come of it, the suit rocketed into the ceiling abruptly, followed quickly by the wreckage of various pieces of furniture and entire cubicles that had not yet been destroyed in the battle.

Shaking her head to clear the ringing in her ears from the impact, Phyla tried her best to force herself to her hooves. Motors in the suit aided her in standing, but they groaned with the effort. As she took a quick look about, Phyla realized very suddenly that she was standing on the ceiling.

The gravity had changed, both in direction and in magnitude. The force was crushing, and she could feel the tug on her entire body. Her joints ached from the incredible force.

It stopped just as suddenly as it had started, and Phyla caught herself with a magnetic field as she fell to the floor, tumbling end over end.

The room became a blur of flashing purple light as Twilight teleported about rapidly, firing lasers from new angles each time she appeared. Phyla caught them over and over, but more still soared in. Unable to release the ones she had captured without falling victim to the new ones coming in constantly, she was forced to keep up the field that disturbed the beams.

A field that required a very large amount of energy to sustain.

The suit emitted a strange humming sound, starting from its usual high-pitched whine and growing lower in tone. The various lasers orbiting Phyla all broke free suddenly, flying off in random directions as the suit ran out of the energy it needed to keep them under control. They punched through cubicles, windows, and even the floor, leaving behind holes ringed in purple-glowing slag.

The defensive field finally collapsed, and five more beams raced in, hammering Phyla and lifting her from the floor, bouncing her between them with the sheer force of the blows. The suit crunched and screeched as metal ground against metal at the command of the crushing barrage of purple light.

Unable to keep up with the directions she was turning in, or think through the pain, Phyla couldn't stop herself as she slammed into the floor. The building shook from that impact, and this time the suit didn't have the energy left to help her stand as she and everything around her groaned from the powerful force of amplified gravity.

The force faded suddenly, and Twilight drifted slowly to the floor, breathing hard. The glow in her eyes faded, and the magic that had filled the room slowly dissipated as well. She joined Phyla on the floor, collapsing in a heap, too weak from her sudden exertion to even stand.

She and Phyla weren't the only things to have taken damage. The floor suddenly caved in, natural gravity taking hold. Twilight didn't have the air left in her aching lungs to cry out as she and her immobilized adversary plummeted down, wooden beams and other debris falling around them. Her descent halted suddenly, and she watched through a haze of exhaustion and copper magic as Phyla and her badly-dented suit slammed into the floor ahead of her unhindered.

It was raining dust and shards of wood everywhere as the floor above her continued to fall apart, streaming into the third story. The gaping hole above was at least twenty feet wide, the destruction thorough. Her tired mind tried to reason how she had managed to catch herself. She was too tired to cast anymore spells, and should have shared the same fate as Phyla, buried under falling rubble.

The answer came to her as she suddenly recognized the copper glow around her that was lowering her gently to the floor. Ahead of her stood her rescuer, clad all in mismatched bronze plates, the armor on his front-left leg stained with dried blood and his horn glowing brightly.

His determined glare was apparent even through his red-lensed goggles as he watched Phyla dig herself out of the rubble, her legs clearly shaking from the aftereffects of the beating she had taken. Whatever ability she had to remain upright clearly came from the suit itself, which was sparking and smoking in various places.

The fall from the floor above would have surely broken something in Twilight's body, and she silently thanked Celestia that Gearrick had caught her. He was here, against all of her fears and in answer to all of her hopes. He hadn't abandoned her.

"Are you alright?" he asked her quietly, the frighteningly determined expression never once leaving his face, his eyes never leaving Phyla.

"I-I'm fine," Twilight coughed, fighting the dust that was intruding on her lungs from the wreckage.

"Tinkermane," Phyla said coldly, a stream of blood visible through the blue haze of her visor from some gash she had taken to the head during her fight with Twilight. Other small trickles of the red fluid overlapped the remaining blue lines on the Markiver Device from cuts caused by bent and broken armor. "Very unfortunate. Step away from the mare." Though she was standing, her breathing was heavy and she was clearly in incredible pain. "I am not finished with her..."

"Yes you are," Gearrick replied flatly, leveling his right hoof at her. "You've done enough damage, and this isn't a game. Remove the suit, and give yourself up," he warned, and it was clear to Twilight that he was not in an arguing mood. She had never heard him sound so grave.

"I cannot do that," Phyla replied evenly. "I cannot allow you to save her; my plans require her to be separated from you."

"You've already lost then," he said quietly. "She's right here with me. Whatever you had planned, it's finished."

"I can still retrieve her from you," Phyla said simply, her suit whining lamely in preparation for her assault, the high note stuttering.

No sooner had it whined than the armor Gearrick was wearing did the same. Phyla's suit flickered, then suddenly erupted in a shower of sparks as all of the plating on the left side of the armor burst wide open. The blue lines flickered and then went out, leaving her armor no more than a black lump of metal.

Phyla cried out in pain, stiffening immediately as electricity ran visibly over the surface of her armor, shocking her. It faded after only a moment, and Phyla toppled to her side, gasping for breath.

Gearrick approached her without fear, and Twilight was glad that he had been there. The suit clearly had some energy left. However little it was, it was more than Twilight, who could barely keep her own eyes open.

"I don't... understand..." Phyla panted, her eyes closed against the residual pain behind the now-dim visor.

"I already explained it once today," Gearrick said, his expression not softening. He leveled his right hoof at her again, a clear threat should she try anything funny. "I don't need you to understand. You've lost."

"A... Affirmative," she sighed, her tone just as empty as ever. Yet her body-language oozed defeat as she slumped.

"Get out of the suit," Gearrick commanded.

Phyla complied as best she could but, when the suit failed to open due to all of the damage it had taken, Gearrick was forced to peel it off of her panel by panel.

Twilight was finally able to stand again after her short rest. She stumbled over to Gearrick's side, leaning into him heavily as she looked down at the white pony. Phyla seemed so weak now without the armor, her eyes closed and her breathing heavy. She was covered with numerous gashes and bruises that were already showing purple through the white of her coat. Twilight realized with a sigh of relief that none of the cuts seemed to be too deep or bleeding too badly.

"She'll be fine," Gearrick said suddenly, as if reading her mind. "I didn't want to hurt her, but I didn't have much of a choice..." he said, his voice thick with remorse.

Twilight couldn't think of anything to say to that. He had looked so fierce, but in the end he was still the same Gearrick; soft-hearted and probably more angry with himself right now than with anypony else, Phyla included.

"What are you going to do with her?" Twilight asked quietly.

"I'll turn her in to the authorities," Gearrick replied with a sigh, doing his best to let things go for the time being. "They've already arrested Mick Magnet... I fought him and left him for the police to find before I came here," he explained quietly. "I needed to find out where Phyla was keeping you, and it turned out he knew the answers. It looks like I was just in time," he said with a sad smile.

Twilight rubbed her cheek against his in gratitude. "You definitely were..." she whispered quietly, giving him a light kiss on his jaw, the best she could manage standing where she was in reference to his taller frame.

"Magnet... is arrested?" Phyla asked, a groan of pain following shortly.

"Yes," Gearrick said with a sigh, and Twilight got the feeling that that sigh carried the weight of something very troublesome from his duel with the head of the guild. "He'll testify against you when you're tried for kidnapping," Gearrick assured.

Twilight's eyes widened as a sudden realization came to her. "Gearrick, we can't..." she said suddenly, pleadingly.

"What? Why?" he asked, clearly surprised.

"Because Myla is innocent." It was Phyla who answered him, both of her blue eyes visible once more through her mane, a small stream of blood running down the side of her head from a gash in her ear.

Twilight nodded when Gearrick looked to her with questions in his eyes. "Myla tried to save me before Phyla took control of the situation, and things got out of hoof," she explained quietly.

"I don't see how that affects her," Gearrick said with a scowl, pointing to Phyla.

"She and her sister share a body," Twilight explained quietly.

Gearrick's eyebrows shot up at that, and he pulled his goggles down to get a better look at Twilight's face. It was clear by her expression that she wasn't kidding. "You're serious..." he muttered, putting a hoof to his eyes in exasperation.

"They can't just put Phyla on trial... Myla's innocent, but to imprison one of them, you have to imprison both," Twilight said sadly.

Gearrick was silent for many minutes, clearly trying to think of their options. "What should we do?" he asked at last, confusion evident in his tone. Twilight realized that he really did believe her story about the sisters, and that he trusted her judgment on this matter. That was honestly more than she would have expected. If their places had been switched, Twilight knew she would want revenge on Phyla for taking Gearrick away from her, and it would have been very hard to convince her that Phyla couldn't be sent to jail so easily.

His faith in her helped to lift her spirits somewhat as she thought of a plan. "Turn her in, like you planned. I'll contact the Princesses... they'll know what to do," she said hopefully. She realized suddenly that Gearrick probably had no idea what she was talking about; normal ponies didn't just contact the Princesses.

He didn't react, just continued staring down at Phyla in thought. Twilight gave him a gentle nudge to rouse him from what she thought was shock. "Gearrick? You okay? You seem a little lost..."

"Not really. Magnet explained everything to me. He told me about you being Princess Celestia's student in magic," he said with a light chuckle. "Even knowing that, I have to say I'm a little impressed by the damage..."

"Gearrick," Twilight replied quietly, concern clear in her tone.

He picked up on the cause of her distress easily. "Don't worry. You're still the same Twilight to me," he said quietly, giving her a reassuring smile. Twilight's heartbeat leveled out a little at that, even bringing a tired smile to her lips.

"So the Princesses will figure out what to do with her," he said quietly, lowering the threatening hoof he had been holding over Phyla the whole time. "Before that, what do we do about her?" he asked. "I doubt she'll come along willingly, and I'm not going to knock her out..."

"I'd love to, but I don't think we have to," Twilight said, her tone mockingly disappointed. She looked down at Phyla, who was looking back at her blankly, as she always looked at anypony. "Give control back to your sister."

Phyla nodded slowly. Her body stiffened suddenly, the eyes fading to black and the coat going dust-grey. She would have blended in with the rubble around her, if not for the bright-red streams of blood matting her coat.

Gearrick took a step back in shock, but Twilight steadied his nerves with a calming hoof on his shoulder. "It's alright, Gearrick. This is how they change back and forth. When she wakes up next, it will be Myla."

"And you think Myla's more likely to cooperate?" Gearrick asked hopefully, swallowing his confusion as he watched the body begin to change, the eyes going magenta and the coat shifting to black.

Twilight smiled sadly, and simply nodded. "I know she is."

Jack looked around anxiously, searching for the source of the hissing sound that was trying to get his attention. He spotted it suddenly, rushing away from his stall without even telling his patrons where he was going. He shuffled over to the alleyway as quickly as his old legs would take him, noting with growing discomfort the various cuts and bruises of his visitor, as well as the blood and the dents marring his armor.

"Gearrick?" he asked in disbelief.

"Yeah, it's me... Sorry to startle you like this," he said sheepishly. "And don't worry about the blood; it's mine."

"What in the hell happened to ya?" Jack asked, concern thick in his voice.

"Shh, keep it down!" Gearrick hissed. "Look, I'll get the chance to explain it all to you later, alright? Right now I need you to do me a favor."

"Look, boy, it's one thing to ask me fer favors when you're not covered in blood-" the old pony started, but Gearrick waved a hoof to silence him.

"This is important, alright?" Gearrick asked in exasperation.

After only a moment's hesitation, Jack nodded.

"I need you to call the police, and tell them it's an emergency and that I need medical support. Send them to my warehouse," he said quietly.

"This is getting shadier by the second," Jack cautioned, his bushy eyebrows low in an uncomfortable scowl.

"Look, Jack, I promise it's for the best, alright? Just don't ask any questions," Gearrick pleaded, putting his hooves together in front of him, his need clear on his face.

Jack sighed and shook his head, but at last he nodded. "Alright, Gearrick. I trust ya. They'll be right over. I don't know why ya can't just go an' get 'em yerself, but I ain't gonna ask," he said, holding up a hoof to stall Gearrick's oncoming complaint about questions. "I expect ya to tell me when whatever's goin' on is done with."

"Thanks," Gearrick said with a heavy sigh, and Jack noted with even deeper worry that it was not one of relief. Without another word, Gearrick turned and vanished into the alley.

"I don't like this, kiddo..." Jack whispered to himself, turning and galloping off toward one of the emergency police radios on Main Street.

There was yellow tape strewn everywhere, a clear sign that the police had already been here once before to investigate the cause of the fire from last night. The fire department's report hadn't been able to identify anything other than that it had been deliberately started by somepony. The police had fenced the area off later that morning, but had given up the search when the sun went down, planning instead for a second day of investigation.

Gearrick sighed with relief as he trotted back towards the ruined structure, finding Twilight and Myla still laying where he had left them and saving their strength. Myla had spent a good deal of time complaining how badly her body hurt, all of them injuries that Phyla had earned that she was forced to share in. Both she and Twilight were in no condition to be moving around, so Gearrick had been the one to run off in search of help.

Myla needed to be taken into custody, but both of them needed medical attention. Gearrick probably needed some himself, but it was the furthest thing from his mind as he settled in for the wait.

"Were you able to get the police?" Twilight asked tiredly, her eyes barely open from exhaustion.

"They'll be here soon," Gearrick promised, doing his best to keep his tone pleasant as he stroked her mane.

Twilight just nodded, unable to make much more of an effort than that to show she had heard him.

It wasn't long before the sound of hoofsteps came echoing to them from down the alleyway, several ponies galloping hard. There were five officers and four medics, two pairs of them with stretchers balanced between their backs.

Gearrick forced his aching legs to get him on his hooves as the officers approached.

"What's going on here, son?" the first officer asked gruffly, looking Gearrick over with a suspicious eye. The tinker had long since removed the R.A.D. and laid it aside, anticipating this moment.

"These two mares need medical attention," he said simply, pointing to Twilight and Myla. "The purple one was kidnapped, and the black one was an accomplice to the kidnapping."

The officer's eyebrows shot high at the mention of that. He gave Myla and Twilight an inquiring scowl, and when both of the exhausted mares nodded that what Gearrick was saying was true, the paramedics rushed over, getting them on the stretchers.

"What's yer name?" the officer asked suddenly, suspicion clear in his tone and his eyes as he scowled at Gearrick, the accusing gaze darting between the scars on Gearrick's jaw and his red goggles.

Gearrick sighed, having suspected that this was coming. He looked at Twilight as the medics carried her past, and when she caught sight of his suddenly sad smile her expression turned curious.

"Gearrick Tinkermane," he replied to the officer.

The officer sighed, as if he had known it all along. He pulled a set of hoofcuffs from a pouch on his side.

"What's going on?" Twilight asked, sobering up from her tired state as she realized something was very, very wrong.

"It's alright, Twilight," Gearrick replied, sitting down and holding his hooves out in front of him.

The officer cuffed him abruptly, his scowl still in place. "Gearrick Tinkermane, you are under arrest on suspicion of trespassing, destruction of private property, assault, theft, and arson."

"What?" Twilight asked, confusion and hurt dripping from that single word. "Gearrick, what's happening?" She reached out for him, but he just shook his head and smiled sadly as the medics walked her and Myla down the alleyway. "Gearrick!"

That cry broke his heart as it echoed back to him from what felt like miles away. A gentle hoof on his shoulder gave him a nudge to follow the medics. "Come with me," the officer commanded, and Gearrick could tell just from his tone that the officer who had cuffed him didn't want to believe the charges he had been arrested for.

With a heavy sigh, Gearrick followed the officers slowly down the alleyway.

XII: All Good Things

Twilight sat with her shoulders slumped in her hospital bed, her eyes looking deeply into the blanket draped over her legs as if she could see everything in the wrinkles and folds of the light-blue cloth. Her normally cheerful and vibrant amethyst eyes seemed dimmer, the rings around them a sure sign that her exhaustion was weighing on her. Yet sleep wouldn't come, no matter how often she laid her head down to try.

"Miss Sparkle?" a nurse called from the door, drawing her incredibly tired gaze. "You have a visitor."

Despite everything she knew was true, hope shook her mind back to some semblance of alertness. "Gearrick?" she asked sadly, her voice barely loud enough to be heard from her tired throat. She knew, deep down, that it couldn't possibly be him, but she didn't know of anypony else who would have known where to find her, or come looking for her.

Frankly, there was nopony else on her mind.

"Sorry, little lady," came the familiar voice of Old Jack, the bushy-browed pony stepping into the room even as he said it. Twilight could tell instantly from his tone and his posture that he was just as worried as she was, and truly regretted not being the stallion she so badly wanted to see.

"I'll... leave you two alone," the nurse said cautiously, her tone trying to remain unconcerned as she gave the two some much needed privacy.

"Jack?" Twilight asked, as if she didn't believe it. She certainly hadn't been expecting the old food vendor to be the one who came looking for her, but in the midst of all this turmoil his familiar face was a welcome sight. Tears welled in her eyes, as had been happening more and more often over the last many hours. She had stopped questioning where they came from or why, too tired to even stop them or think about it anymore.

Jack's own lip quivered slightly, as if he were close behind her in the waterworks. He looked her up and down, noting the bandages all over her legs, and the sling one of her forelegs was in to ease the strain on her recently-dislocated shoulder. "Oh, kiddo..." he said sadly, walking over to a chair by her bed. "Look what's happened to ya." It was clear from his tone that he was sincerely worried over her.

Twilight had come to respect just how strong a bond could be, even in such a short time, and in all honesty didn't find the old stallion's concern to be surprising. Despite how little she had seen of him, she knew how big Jack's heart was, and knew that there were tears brimming in those eyes behind the bushy eyebrows.

"Jack, it's okay," she said, giving him a tired smile. "I'm fine. I've had worse than this before, trust me," she said, chuckling a bit. But her chuckle sounded empty, and seemed even more fragile than she did.

"No ya haven't, kiddo," he said with a sigh to steady his nerves. "Maybe yer body's taken tougher, but yer heart's busted bad."

Twilight winced as he said those words, knowing them to be true.

"Ya haven't slept... or eaten anythin'," he said quietly. "The nurse told me all about it. And I don't blame ya... I've been up all night too, jus' tryin' to find out what's goin' on," he admitted, and with that simple statement he seemed much more tired to Twilight than he had before.

"I can't sleep," Twilight admitted quietly, her gaze once more funneling back into the blanket looped over her. "I'm not sure I want to, because then I would know for sure this isn't just a dream," she sighed, her lips moving as if to turn into a sad smile. Yet even one of self-pity was impossible right now, it seemed.

"I can't say I feel any different," Jack added quietly, nodding as his gaze, too, fell into something he wasn't truly seeing. Just staring at anything, so that he wouldn't have to see the hurt on her face. "The whole city's confused," he went on after a moment of silence. "The contest's been stopped fer now: Magnet was one of the judges, and he's been arrested... And then there's Gearrick." Jack's tone turned solemn until a lone, empty chuckle escaped his lips. "He'd be happy to be the talk of the town, at least."

Twilight couldn't help herself as she let out a laugh. Just one, but a little less empty than her most recent attempts, her eyes still fixed on the covers. She could almost hear Gearrick making some joke along those exact lines, even in his current situation.

"Did he really do all of those things?" Twilight asked quietly, at last looking back to Jack. Everything in her eyes said she didn't really want to know the answer, because she already knew it.

Jack sighed, having known this topic was unavoidable. It was why he had come in the first place. "He really did. Ya saw the warehouse yerself... Everything was gone in the fire. His tools, his home... his dream," Jack said the last as if it seemed unreal. "He'd been talkin' about that machine since the guild turned him down the first time. He was gonna change the world," Jack chuckled sadly.

Twilight couldn't bring herself to laugh, not even with that same hint of sorrow Jack's laughter carried.

"He lost everything," Jack said quietly, after a lengthy silence had passed between them. "But when it was all gone, he just... gave it up. Like it never happened. He took those pieces of the Nomad in his hooves like he didn't even remember where they'd come from," Jack said with a shake of his head. "I think it was because he knew he couldn't get it back."

Twilight's tears started to pool in her eyes again, and everything looked like it was underwater, the blue of the blanket lost in waves of sadness as she reflected on the terrible things that had happened.

"But he knew he could get you back," Jack said unexpectedly, and Twilight's teary eyes widened in shock as she took those words in, and let them settle around her aching heart.

"He picked up them pieces without a thought for the dream they'd been broken off of. I'd never seen him like that before," Jack whispered, suddenly at the side of Twilight's bed. "He'd lost so much, but refused to lose ya too. He did all those things, broke all them laws, and risked his freedom jus' to see ya again."

Twilight fixed Jack with eyes now streaming freely with tears, the twin paths from her eyes staining her coat and dripping onto the blanket below while she struggled to find words that were strong enough to break through the lump in her throat.

"It's only when a stallion loses everythin' that he understands what's really important to 'im," Jack said with a sigh, clearly struggling to remain strong in light of her reaction. "Gearrick decided that that somethin' was you."

Twilight couldn't stop herself from reaching over and pulling the old stallion into a hug as best she could. Part of it was just that she didn't want him to see her cry... not the way she was about to. More than that, though, she needed to hang onto someone while she did it.

She emptied all kinds of feelings into her tears, pouring them into Jack's shoulder as she cried her heart out. Jack rubbed her back comfortingly as she hiccupped and sniffled as much as she had to, saying nothing and being exactly the living pillar Twilight needed. She had never felt more like a lost little girl in her life.

"I'm not going to lose him," Twilight said desperately, her voice strained as she fought against the tears pinching her throat shut. "I'm not!" She squeezed Jack tighter, letting out a shuddering sigh as she at last rose above the storm of her heart. She was far from being in command of the many emotions buffeting her about, but at least she was gaining control again.

Jack hushed her quietly, like a father to a daughter as he hugged her back. "I ain't gonna let ya," Jack said quietly. "You're more like him than I think ya know," he said quietly, an edge of warmth to his voice. "He always seems calm, but when things get desperate, yer both the same."

"What do you mean?" Twilight asked, pulling back just enough to fix Jack with the most pitiful look he had ever seen.

Despite her confusion, and her lingering sorrow, Jack just smiled. "Because when things aren't the way they're 'sposed to be, ya fix 'em," he said warmly, stroking her mane gently as she laid her head into his chest, her exhaustion finally catching up to her, her pent up emotions at last spent.

"You're right," Twilight admitted. "It's been a while since I had to fix anything," she said with a tired laugh.

Jack laughed too, more warmly than he had in what felt like days. "Now's as good a time as any, little lady... Now, tell ol' Jack what he can do to help."

Twilight's smile as she closed her eyes was a sure one. "I need you to send a letter for me."

Gearrick sat on the edge of the low bed bolted to the wall, the multi-colored light of the city reflected off The Veil through the bars of his cell window, the long shadows of the steel barriers ruining what would have otherwise been a beautiful sight. But through such a small box, and marred in such ways, he thought instead that it seemed almost tragic.

He hadn't had the time to think of it. Any of it; the loss of the Nomad, the loss of his home. The loss of Twilight had been all that mattered at the time, and nothing was going to stand in his way, not even the tragedy of his circumstances. He had been consumed by a single goal, a reality that had surpassed any of his dreams, and had muted all of his fears. And yet, despite everything, he stood to lose her again, and in a way he couldn't tinker his way out of.

He sighed as he looked at the splotches of color on the cell's floor, losing himself in them. He'd done some amazing things. Amazingly bold, and amazingly stupid. What he stood accused of he could hardly deny, except for the charges of arson. Yet, in a way, he didn't believe he even had the right to deny that. It had been his carelessness that had sprung the trap that had destroyed the Nomad, and burned his home.

He had been the one to set everything in motion by coming to Manehattan in the first place.

He sighed, shaking his head in gruff denial. No, what he had done was right. Overwhelmingly right. Twilight had been trapped, hurt, and alone. He could easily remember the sight of her, legs covered in cuts, looking like they were about to give out. Could even remember her face in the split seconds of timelessness when the floor had given out beneath her. She had looked so tired, so wounded. If he hadn't been there, hadn't done what he had done to reach her, then she might have been hurt even worse. Or perhaps she would sooner have fought Myla to the death.

Gearrick put his head in his hooves and sighed heavily. No, he had done what was necessary. Everything had been for her. Yet, with his mind in dark places, he couldn't help but wonder if she would understand. Understand that he had done everything he did for her sake.

It would be hard to look past prison bars, if he were on the other side looking in. He could recall the expression on her face as the medics had carried away, and the police arrested him; hurt, confused, and afraid. When she looked at him now, would he be her hero? Or would he be a criminal?

Would it matter either way?

No matter how many years his sentence was, Gearrick knew it would be too many. Too many for the wonderful mare he had met to wait for him. The world was full of stallions brighter, better looking, and all of them free. What would she feel, a year from now, for a stallion with which she had shared only a week of her life, and only one adventure?

How long would it take for the heartbreak to set in for her?

Gearrick sighed, afraid to admit that, in order to save her, he may have broken her heart. That heart was more valuable to him than anything now, and he had left it in shambles. If only he had been more careful, then perhaps there wouldn't have been so much damage. If only he had been smarter, and stronger, he never would have had to build a weapon, or fought, or hurt her.

Laying down and staring at his ceiling, Gearrick did his best to clear the dark thoughts out of his head. They were so unlike him, so unfamiliar. Yet he knew the truth... he had been afraid of losing her somehow from the very moment she had first kissed him. Here, in this cell, he had never been closer to doing so, and it made him afraid. Afraid enough to shake his confidence, and leave him wondering.

"If her heart's broken... I may not be as good with pieces as I say I am," he whispered sadly, closing his eyes and doing his best to let his unpleasant thoughts fade into slumber.

It had been two days since the letter had been sent off, Jack following the instructions perfectly, and gladly forking over the bits for priority delivery by teleportation. Twilight had struggled a bit while convincing Jack that the letter really was supposed to be sent to Canterlot Castle.

Two evenings later, Jack sat slack-jawed in the chair stuffed in the corner of the hospital room, his bushy eyebrows finally high enough in surprise to catch sight of his deep green eyes. "Skies above, kiddo... you were serious," he whispered, more to himself than to Twilight.

"I came as soon as I could," Celestia said quietly, carefully ignoring Jack's look of shock, and the urge to ask who he was. Twilight's hasty letter had explained nothing, other than that she was in a great deal of trouble in Manehattan... trouble too big for her to handle on her own, and of a kind that the Elements couldn't fix.

Celestia's carefully managed smile faded suddenly as she looked Twilight up and down. Her eyes were alight and her smile was just like the smile she had worn as a little girl. In her expression, she looked like she always did to Celestia. But she was covered in bandages, a leg in a sling. Her mane was a mess, and she looked tired... tired and hurt.

"What happened to you?" Celestia asked with a motherly sigh, unable to deny the anger seeing Twilight like this put in her heart. Somepony was responsible for this...

"Jack?" Twilight asked warmly, giving the old pony a pleading glance.

"Oh, oh, right," he said simply, having recovered a good deal by now. Grabbing his hat, he headed for the door, giving Celestia a hasty, respectful dip of his head on his way past, and surprising her when he whispered something, just loud enough for her to hear. "Don't be too hard on her, highness."

Before Celestia could respond, he was out the door, closing it behind him without another word. She turned her curious gaze back to Twilight, sighing heavily and closing her eyes a moment to get better control of her emotions as the sight of her battered and bruised student again set her mind to racing with ways she would punish whoever was responsible.

"What happened to you?" she said again, her tone sad now that it was just Twilight in the room. She could speak plainly with Twilight, not have to keep up appearances... even cry, if she had to.

"I fell in love," Twilight said quietly. Her tone was bittersweet, happy and sad all at once.

That simple, yet complex, statement dropped Celestia into silence. She didn't know what to say, having expected something very different. She expected names of ponies who had attacked her, or an explanation of some great evil lurking in the city... But she had fallen in love, and said it as if she had simply fallen down some stairs, and hurt herself.

Seeing nothing forthcoming from Celestia, Twilight continued. "And I don't want to fall out of it... That's why I need your help," she said, her voice pinching slightly and making Celestia's heart ache as she realized the sorrow barely being contained by force of will alone.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this," Twilight sighed, regaining control. "It wasn't supposed to be like anything." Twilight gestured to the chair Jack had previously occupied, signaling that this would be a long story.

Taking the cue, Celestia sat down, settling in with a look of mixed curiosity and worry on her face.

"I just came to see the festival... I didn't tell anyone I was coming, or give anyone here my name. I just wanted to have fun, enjoy myself. I didn't expect an adventure," she said quietly, gripping the blanket in her hooves and pinching it into tight, stressful wrinkles.

"But I met a stallion here... it was out of my control, and it was wonderful. It's nice to not have to be the one in control sometimes," Twilight chuckled, and Celestia couldn't help but smile slightly. She knew how hard it was to be in control better than anyone.

"He's amazing, Princess. Everything I could ever imagine wanting in a stallion," she sighed, suddenly letting the blanket go, her shoulders slumping slightly.

"And without your help, I'm going to lose him," she said with certainty. "They'll take him away from me, and I can't let that happen. They took me away from him once, and he refused to lose me." She became silent suddenly, clearly thinking for a moment before fixing Celestia with a determined look.

"I think it's time someone knew the whole story."

Celestia sat back in her chair, a hoof to her lips in thought. Twilight's story had not been a short one, or a simple one.

"So can you help him?" Twilight asked hopefully.

Celestia sighed, having hoped since many minutes ago in Twilight's story that she wouldn't ask that question. But, even more so, she had hoped she wouldn't have to answer it.

"I don't know, Twilight," she said honestly, and her heart broke as Twilight's face sunk in despair. "Even I can't bend the law, if he's guilty. Even if he did all of that just to save you, it can't change what's happened. Still," she went on, just as Twilight's mouth opened to protest, "I will do what I can."

Twilight's words failed as her mouth simply drifted closed. The line in her lips shifted slowly from sad to determined as she nodded. "With luck, it might just be enough," she said with a strange certainty that Celestia didn't understand.

"After all, you never really know if something will work until you test it."

"Y-your Majesty!" the mayor stammered, his fat cheeks and thick beard shaking between a combination of shock and his attempts to talk as Princess Celestia herself walked into city hall in the middle of the afternoon, accompanied as always by two of her finest guards.

The mayor's mind raced. A visit from the Princess was either very good, or very bad. Considering the recent chain of events in the city, and the fact that she had shown up completely unannounced did not encourage him to believe that this visit was of a pleasant nature. Normally the Princess had to be asked for an audience weeks in advance, if not months, and rarely did she leave Canterlot for business.

"Mayor Malter," the Princess replied casually, as if nothing were wrong. The complete lack of a scowl or a sharp tone only made the mayor even more nervous, however. "It has been a long time since my last visit to Manehattan. Your city is as beautiful as ever," she congratulated warmly.

"I-I'm glad you think so, your highness!" he bumbled, recovering finally at the end as the initial shock began to wear off, and he came to terms with the fact that Celestia was really, truly there. "It's always lovely this time of year, if I do say so myself... But you're not here to take in the sights, are you?" he inquired quietly, his tone showing his trepidation clearly.

Celestia's smile was considerably thinner all of a sudden. "No, I'm not," she admitted, her tone not quite as carefree as it had been only moments before. "In fact, is there somewhere you and I might speak in private?" she asked, her expression and tone suddenly returning to their former, abnormally normal state.

"Yes, yes, of course," the mayor huffed, nodding slightly as he glanced past Celestia to the guards. If she was bringing them along, then he was in even deeper trouble than he had previously imagined.

He lead the princess and her guards down a side hall and away from the wide eyes of secretaries and other city officials, the two of them at last arriving in an empty meeting room. Celestia took a seat at the head of the table out of habit as the mayor shut the door as calmly as he could manage. At his age, and in his particular shape, this kind of stress would be the death of him, or so he thought as he wiped the sweat from his forehead and patted his pudgy cheeks to wake himself up a little bit.

"What's this about, then?" Mayor Malter asked quietly, pulling up a seat closer to the Princess. Her guards had waited outside, which made him feel a little better. Unfortunately, though, the Mayor had seen Celestia on many occasions during his various terms in office, and was one of the few politicians who could tell when she was sincerely upset, and simply trying to hide it.

"This, as you may have guessed, is about the incident surrounding Mick Magnet, and his abduction of my personal understudy," Celestia said calmly, as if it were simply any other mundane political matter.

"I... I see," Mayor Malter said grimly, having expected as much.

"No need to be so uptight," Celestia said quietly, a small smile coming to her lips. Her tone was warm and sincere, and took the edge off of the Mayor's nerves somewhat. "I'm not here to drag you back to Canterlot or anything like that, Malter."

The mayor sighed in relief, his nerves further soothed by the casual way she referred to him. "Then what is it you need to see me for?" he asked, trying his best to put on a smile. "Whatever it is, you'll have the city's full co-operation, I'm sure."

"When are the trials for Mr. Magnet, and Mr. Tinkermane?" Celestia asked simply.

"Ah, yes. Why, we've already held them for three days, you know," he began. "The Court of Manehattan's always careful to get trials done with quickly. I believe their trial is scheduled for tomorrow morning,"

Celestia's smile shrank slightly for a brief moment, before returning to full strength. Still, some of the warmth seemed to be missing as she thought over something.

"I want you to turn the matter of their trial over to me," she said quietly after a moment.

"Your Majesty...?" Mayor Malter asked, somewhat taken aback by the unexpected request.

"I'll handle their trials personally," she said quietly. "Since the victim this whole mess centers around is my personal student, I think it's sensible. Plus, with a case this controversial, it will be easier on the city. A private trial would work best," she insisted.

"Hmmm... Yes. Yes, I see," The Mayor hummed, nodding slowly. "Truth be told, there is so little for the court to go on anyways. Most evidence in the case is missing, or burned at best, and there's little more than testimony from the ponies involved. What few witnesses the court called upon to testify insisted they hadn't seen anything," he muttered.

"Best for all of us, then," Celestia added quietly.

Many moments of silence passed before Mayor Malter suddenly cleared his throat, pulling Celestia from her silent musings. "Your Majesty... This is in strict confidence," he went on quietly. "I've no right to sway your judgment, but the boy... Be light on him, if you can," he said quietly. "His time in our city has not been overwhelmingly kind. Whatever drove him to commit the crimes he did against the Guild..."

Celestia raised a hoof, cutting him off. "Mayor Malter, my duty is what it is. If I find Mr. Tinkermane guilty of his crimes, then the sentence will be fair," she said quietly, as if even she didn't like that answer. "As it has to be," she added, so quietly that not even the Mayor could hear it in the still of the conference room.

"While you're here, then," Malter continued quietly. "Perhaps you could shed some light on something. The contest has been halted because of this great mess between Tinkermane and Magnet, but I can't stall forever. The other engineers are demanding a resolution as soon as possible. If Tinkermane is innocent, he would technically still be permitted to compete, so I have been trying to extend the delay until after his trial, but... the reality remains that without a judge to replace Magnet, the festival cannot continue," he grumbled.

"Would your majesty be able to preside over the tournament's closing ceremonies, before your return?" he asked.

Celestia shook her head silently. "I'm sorry, Malter, but I don't know the first thing about steam tinkering. I'm afraid I would make a very poor judge."

As Mayor Malter readied a defeated sigh, Celestia smiled once more. "However, I have heard of somepony who might be able to fill that role very well. And as luck would have it, she's tied to this mess too," Celestia said with a warm laugh. "If you ask her, I'm certain she'll help you."

"And who might this mare be?" the Mayor asked eagerly.

"You'll see soon. I've already had her sent for," Celestia said simply, standing from her chair and signaling the end of their meeting. "Don't worry, Mayor Malter... Everything will be put right soon. You have my word on that."

Celestia sat quietly in the interrogation room, her hoof tapping idly on the floor as she waited as impatiently as anypony had ever seen. The police ponies with her to oversee the 'trial' seemed tense, and the scowl on her brow wasn't helping matters. Even her own guards had seemed concerned before she had posted them outside the room, for the small, dimly lit chamber hardly had the space to spare. As it stood, only herself and two officers could fit inside, one of them seated at a particularly large typewriter to catalog the meeting about to take place.

Celestia had heard much about Mick Magnet, though she couldn't recall meeting the stallion personally. Still, rumors abounded about his nature as a business pony, and not an overly large portion of those were positive. It surprised her little to find somepony like him at the center of all this commotion surrounding Twilight and this Gearrick Tinkermane fellow. From Twilight's own mouth, she had quite a bit to go on about the two of them, but until she met them both and questioned them, she would have to reserve all judgment.

The part of her that separated itself from duty urged her to condemn Magnet, and let Tinkermane go. Celestia had never seen Twilight so distraught as when she had recounted her capture and Gearrick's rescue attempt. Twilight had never been so emotionally invested in anything in all the years that the Princess could recall. And there were few ponies Celestia herself was as emotionally invested in as Twilight Sparkle.

Her heart ached to have to carry this out. She feared, for Twilight's sake, that Gearrick would be found guilty. That simple resolution would put him beyond Celestia's control, and out of reach of Twilight for however long his sentence was. Twilight's heart, her first real love, teetered on the brink, at the mercy of Celestia's verdict.

She sighed heavily, and put on a mask of determined displeasure as the sound of hoofsteps echoed from beyond the door. It cracked open, the guards ushering the prisoner in, but doing little more than prodding him through the portal.

Magnet walked under his own power, his hooves cuffed in front of him. Celestia was mildly surprised to see him un-escorted, having expected him to be a more reluctant prisoner. Yet, to her further confusion, he was even smiling as he took the seat across from her at the table. Try as she might, she could not place that smile: she had seen many smiles of defeat, or even the smiles of madness, yet this was neither.

"Your Majesty," Mick said respectfully, his tone steady and unaltered by any emotion Celestia could tell. "I would say I'm a little surprised to see you here... but considering the circumstances, it makes too much sense," he continued, settling himself more comfortably in his seat before placing his front hooves together on the table before him.

Despite his disheveled appearance, with his mane badly tangled from restless nights and the stubble spotting his jaw, he held his head high, ever the businesspony.

"Mick Magnet," she replied simply, continuing to mask her curiosity and mild confusion behind the same look she had been wearing since he'd entered the room. "Personally I am surprised to be here... and not overly happy to be," she countered, scowling deeper.

"Understandable. I don't think that anyone is overjoyed with the results of my efforts against Mr. Tinkermane," he went on.

"You understand that this is to be your trial?" Celestia asked simply.

"Yes, your majesty," he replied with a simple nod.

"You are charged with fraud, illegal use of company funds, illegal production and use of military-grade weaponry, and accessory to kidnapping," Celestia went on, reading from the report in front of her. "How do you plead?"

"Guilty on all counts," Mick Magnet replied instantly, his tone unwavering and sure, taking Celestia by complete surprise.

She fixed him with a curious stare for many silent moments, before scowling. "All counts?"

"All but one, actually," he went on. "I was not an accomplice to the kidnapping. In reality, I was the one solely responsible."

Celestia's scowl shifted to one of confusion. Twilight had been very clear in her story, and had never mentioned Magnet as the kidnapper himself. However, she had gone on to say that the Trellon sisters, Myla and Phyla, shouldn't be held accountable for their actions, as they were the victims of chaotic magic. Mick's claim contradicted Twilight's story, which Celestia did not doubt the validity of. So, why would the businesspony lie... and in a way that would harm him, no less?

"Myla and Phyla carried out the kidnapping of Twilight Sparkle on my orders," Mick said firmly, causing the pony at the typewriter to peck frantically at the keys, putting that information on the official record.

Celestia came to the realization that he was protecting the sisters, in a way that she herself could not. Affected by magic or not, the twins would be incarcerated for their crimes otherwise. However, with Mick's testimony that he was the real kidnapper, that would make Myla and Phyla accessories to the crime and nothing more, reducing their sentence by many years, and entitling them to institutional treatment rather than a prison sentence.

"Leave us," Celestia said suddenly, glancing at the police ponies. The two stallions hastily left the room, shooting one another confused glances.

Mick, too, shot Celestia a confused glance.

Once the door was shut, she gave him a suspicious look. "What are you doing?"

"Doing, your majesty?" Mick asked, sounding not at all surprised by the accusing question.

"I've already heard the full story from Twilight Sparkle, and I know you are bending the truth," she said quietly.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about," Mick insisted, a calm smile in place.

Celestia's scowl turned into a glare, the lie obvious.

"Would you rather I let those girls suffer for their part in the chain of events I started?" he asked suddenly, his tone serious. "I could certainly let them. I could feed them to the wolves, and you would sit there helplessly and watch it happen, because you cannot bend the truth, your majesty."

Celestia's glare didn't diminish as she moved to speak, but Magnet cut her off.

"But I can," he continued. "As far as I want, to get what I want. I have been doing it for years, and I see no reason to stop now... especially since it can finally be put to good use."

Celestia was shocked. She had honestly thought that it was suspicious how quickly he admitted to the crimes, but now it was beginning to come clear. For some reason, Magnet was working to protect the Trellon sisters from their involvement as much as he was able.

"The public will never know the truth about them. They would never understand," he went on. "But I understand. And because of that understanding, I've been using them for years. They're a good asset, and the perfect scapegoat. If anything ever went wrong, I could pin it on them. The nature of their very being would have been enough to divert the public eye, and even the eye of the court, away from me in any case. They would have been a perfect controversy, covering my tracks no matter how many I left," he said with a small smile. "Look how the tables have turned."

"Why protect them, then?" Celestia asked angrily, her confusion giving her tone an edge. A pony like Magnet should have been looking for every advantage, not digging his grave deeper on someone else's account.

"Regret?" he replied casually, shrugging his shoulders. "Or perhaps it is simply because if I don't, then nopony can. Could you offer them amnesty, even with their tragic history? The public would force you to a more drastic decision, even if you took the trial into your hooves personally like this. But the reality is that only one of them is guilty, and even then it is not her fault."

Celestia clenched her teeth and then sighed, knowing he was right. She shouldn't have been surprised at the shrewdness of his mind, not after all the stories she had heard.

"Better to let the world think that they were forced to assist me, or at least coerced," he finished.

"Why?" Celestia asked again.

Mick sighed, suddenly, his shoulders slumping. To Celestia he suddenly looked much older, and much more tired. "My life has been spent taking advantage of others. Nopony would have ever known, and I would never have been made to pay the price. But, there is one pony besides myself who knows," Mick finished quietly.

"Gearrick Tinkermane. He is the only other pony who knows... and even knowing what kind of stallion I was, when he had the chance to let me die," Mick said fiercely, fixing Celestia with his eyes, filled with resolve "he choose instead to let me live."

Celestia went silent. This was not something Twilight had told her, not something she knew. All she knew about that event was that Gearrick had nearly killed Mick in their fight by accident, but beyond that Twilight had known nothing.

"He saved my life... a miserable life that flashed before my eyes in the minuscule eternity where I thought I would fall to my death," Mick said quietly. "I have stepped on people enough for one lifetime, your Majesty. It is time to atone in what few ways I can."

It made sense to Celestia. In her many years she had seen near-death experiences change ponies in profound ways. If what Mick said was true, then his desire to help the sisters was understandable to the Princess.

"It will never be enough," Mick said quietly. "My atonement will never be sufficient. I'm no murderer, or terrible villain... but the things I have done have ruined many lives, in their own way." Mick fixed her with a determined stare, looking at her from under his brow, his nose still pointed at the table, as if he weren't entirely sure he was ready to look away from his cuffed hooves.

"Before I go, I intend to save as many of the ponies involved in this farce as I possibly can, from as much as I possibly can," he went on, his tone serious. "That includes Mr. Tinkermane. I owe him my life, however many years of it I have left." He sighed heavily, before nodding to himself over something Celestia didn't understand.

"You can't save them from the law, but I can. At this moment, I am still head of the Gearbox Guild. As such, I reserve the right to make executive decisions regarding any and all of its business," he continued. "You will find that the accusing party for all of Mr. Tinkermane's charges is the Gearbox Guild. Before I am sentenced and removed from the office, I withdraw all charges made by the company against him," he said firmly.

Celestia's eyes widened in shock, bringing a smile to Mick Magnet's serious visage. "I think you will find I am quite within my rights to do so."

Celestia could hardly believe it at first. Here was the only viable solution to save Gearrick and the Trellon sisters like Twilight had wanted, and the villain of this tale was simply handing it to her, on a silver platter no less. He hadn't even asked for anything in return for his sacrifice, and that left the Princess of the Sun wondering: was a pony that was capable of such sacrifice, such change, truly evil?

"Mick Magnet," she said seriously, her tone controlled and regal, "You have been found guilty of all charges against you by the city of Manehattan and those you have wronged. You are sentenced to ten years in Canterlot Prison for your transgressions." She fixed him with a dire look, imparting the gravity of his situation.

Mick's eyes widened in surprise. "Your majesty... I'm afraid that for my crimes, your sentence is ten years short," he pointed out, his tone suspicious. "I thought you were bound by duty?"

"The only duty I am bound by, Mr. Magnet, is to issue you a sentence fitting your crimes," Celestia said quietly. "And that's what I have done."

Mick sighed in defeat, unwilling to argue the blessing he had been given. "Thank you, your majesty."

XIII: Silver and Brass

Celestia sighed, the exhalation of relief echoing lowly inside the stuffy interrogation room. She was the only color left in it, for everything else was either black-painted metal or grey concrete. She had never been fond of dungeons or prisons, and no matter how often she visited them she could never shake the feeling of the walls pressing in, making her wings itch in anticipation of leaving once more.

Though her guards had taken Mick Magnet away many moments ago, the Princess still had business to take care of here, much to her dismay. She had amazed her guards by ordering them not to return to Canterlot yet, and to relieve Mick of his shackles. Celestia had a firm grasp on his strange sense of honor now, and his need for atonement. In her many years spent sentencing prisoners to fates far grimmer than Mick's own, and witnessing heroic transformations of the soul in many of those individuals, it had been proven to her time and again that even the most unlikely creatures could be made to work good.

Mick Magnet, though once a villain, would not flee from his fate. After all, the shackles of his life spent stepping on others weighed heavier than any other kind.

She was glad to have questioned him first; a stroke of luck, or perhaps it was simply fate. Though many considered fate to be a naive notion, as an immortal creature Celestia believed in it firmly, despite the wonders of her years and the cold logical truths she had learned in her time. Fate was a very real thing to her, and everyone involved in this series of mishaps was fortunate to share in it. In time these events would lead to great good, or so she felt.

More worrisome to Celestia than anything concerning Magnet was Twilight's plight with Gearrick. Her love for him was clear to Celestia, for anytime she had mentioned him she immediately seemed more alive, more alert. She was so tired and so hurt, yet simply thinking of him was enough to dominate her spirit with pleasant thoughts and joy.

Celestia had little reason to doubt Gearrick's feelings for Twilight, after all she had heard in defense of his actions to save her student from her captors and reveal the truth about the guild. However, without meeting him herself, she could never know for certain. A mare's first love could be a beautiful and extraordinary thing in her life, or it could be a dangerous and damaging time. Celestia loved Twilight deeply, and she had to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that this stallion was everything Twilight's bright eyes portrayed of him.

It was a selfish notion, but one that Celestia lacked the conviction to deny.

The two police ponies entered just as she had finished her musings, having led her guards out of the station for the time being. No sooner had they entered than Celestia fixed them with serious stares. She had to know for certain, for Twilight's sake.

"Release Myla Trellon," she ordered seriously, pointing to one of the guards. He saluted and was gone immediately. As she pointed to the other, he saluted and made to leave to release Gearrick, thinking those to be his orders and wasting no time. Gearrick's innocence had been placed on the official record as well after Mick had been taken away, and so it was only fitting that he would be released also.

"I want you to bring me Mr. Tinkermane for questioning," Celestia said, startling him out of his attempt to turn around and head for the door.

"Your Majesty...?" the guard inquired. In response Celestia only nodded once, signaling that she meant what she had said. "You said yourself that Mr. Tinkermane was allowed to leave..."

"Not yet," she said quietly, settling more comfortably in her chair. Unless she missed her guess, this was going to be a long talk. "He and I have certain matters to discuss still."

"Y-yes, your majesty," the police pony stammered, saluting once more and scooting out of the room through the door his partner had left open. The look on the Princess' face did not bode well for him if he asked many more question... or for Gearrick Tinkermane. He froze as she spoke up just as he was halfway out of the door.

"And send him in alone," she added simply.

The guard nodded and slowly closed the door behind him. This did not bode well for Mr. Tinkermane at all.

The morning outside was misty and oddly chill for late spring, the sunlight slightly dimmed like Gearrick was accustomed to as its rays fought their way through the particles of steam vapor and light coal-smoke that made up the Veil. Looking directly at it was like looking into a million mirrors, all bouncing the whitish light between them and into the eyes of onlookers. As always, Manehattan's morning was majestic, and beautiful.

Gearrick lay on his back, his hooves behind his head and eyes closed, admiring the spots on the insides of his eyelids as the Veil tried futilely to blind him. He took a deep breath and let it out, sighing heavily. He had made a habit of doing that often in the past three days. It was his best method for coping with the boredom, and the dark thoughts that lingered within the endless seconds of nothingness that he was made to live through in his imprisonment.

His first night of the three had been the worst by far. He had slept little, and thought of nothing pleasant. Images of his beautiful machine torn to shreds, of his humble home burnt and broken, had ached in his mind. All of his work had been ruined, all of his efforts and dreams little more than ashes and twisted metal.

But more than anything that night his mind had been filled with terrible worries surrounding Twilight. Worries for her, worries about her, and worries about himself. He had sat awake for many hours, consumed by dark thoughts that he had, regardless of his good intentions, destroyed her heart. That he had coaxed her into loving him, only to become the villain, and not her hero.

As the days had passed, his silent and uninterrupted hours of meditation had given him very different views on things. By the second day he had become more angry than sad at the loss of his home and his Nomad. His anger at those events faded to determination slowly as his thoughts had again shifted to Twilight. By the time night had fallen, he was certain that he had done the best for her. He believed that beautiful, kind, and intelligent Twilight would understand, though he hadn't the conviction to promise it to himself.

By the third morning, his mood and manner was nearly back to its original state. He had taken to treating the prison cell like the first few nights he had spent in Manehattan two years ago: homeless and out of bits for a hotel room. By comparison the cool, flat bench of a bed was miles better, and at least the ceiling kept the Veil from dripping on him.

His ears perked up and swiveled in the spiky reddish-brown nest of his mane as the jingling of keys outside his door echoed lamely throughout his cell. His muscles tensed slightly as he heard the key slide into his cell door, promising that this hour of reckoning was his, and not for whoever sat in the cell across the hall. He hadn't even realized it himself, but despite his best efforts to ready himself for his fate, he had subconsciously been dreading his trial.

He sat up as the door swung open, the hoofcuffs jingling lightly as the chain came to rest in his lap.

"Gearrick Tinkermane," the guard greeted simply, leaving him no time to greet back, though Gearrick had no idea what his name was anyways. "Come with me."

Sighing to himself, Gearrick closed his eyes for a brief second to compose himself. So this was it. For some reason, after everything he had been through recently, he had expected something more dramatic. He let that simple, humorous thought bring him some comfort, and the telltale signs of his usual smirk played at the corners of his lips, though the crooked smile never came on full-force.

He hopped to his hooves and followed the guard out. As he walked away from his cell, with the door thrown wide, he couldn't help but feel, for that brief moment, as if he was finally free. It wasn't to last, though, as he passed through hallways filled with various other cell doors. The minutes dragged as he wandered after the guard at the best pace he could manage without the incredibly inconvenient hoofcuffs messing up the whole process.

At last he and his escort came to a door that rested ominously at the end of an otherwise empty hallway. Gearrick wasn't sure if the police had placed this room in such a way on purpose or not, but it certainly made it seem imposing. Being the only door in the dimly lit, grey-cement hallway made it seem like a portal to something incredibly unpleasant.

"Hooves," the guard said idly, holding up one of his own with a key in it.

Confused, Gearrick raised his shackled hooves, surprised to have the cuffs removed as the guard did his work. Near as he had ever known, most prisoners remained shackled during a trial. "Thanks," he muttered quietly, more simply to say something than out of actual gratitude.

"Good luck," the guard replied simply, giving Gearrick a look of pity before walking behind him and leaving him to open the door himself.

Even more confused than before, Gearrick again closed his eyes and took a deep breath. As he opened them again, he found himself on the other side of the door and shutting it behind him, unaware that he had entered during his moment of composure.

He lost all of it as he noticed who was sitting on the other side of the interrogation table. He rarely followed the news, didn't care much for being part of the public cycle of knowledge, but he would have to be a complete and total idiot not to recognize that mare.

"Princess Celestia..." he whispered quietly, his tone almost reverent. As the shock slowly subsided, his quick mind took stock of the situation more fully. Twilight's promise that the Princess would know what to do with Myla and Phyla three days ago echoed in his mind. No, if Twilight was safe, it made sense that the Princess would be here: Twilight would have called for her almost certainly, Gearrick knew.

"Gearrick Tinkermane," she replied simply, giving him a nod. Her look was stern, and it hinted that this meeting was not going to be overwhelmingly pleasant.

Gearrick took his seat quietly, mind still screaming along and piecing together what little it could. He had already been interrogated, and had explained everything in full. This was obviously a private trial, and the absence of anyone other than the Princess meant that the result of his trial, whatever it was, had already been decided upon.

"I've heard a great deal about you," Celestia said simply, placing her front hooves on the table, her expression unchanging.

Gearrick's eyes showed no fear as he fixed them on Celestia's own brilliant, purple orbs. He had never, in all his life surrounded by tinkers, teachers, and geniuses, seen such intelligent eyes. Nothing that this pony thought was ever idle; everything was calculated, analyzed. Yet, more than that, it was as if those eyes guaged it all without the slightest effort; as if, without a single conscious thought, she could pick reality itself apart and read it bit by bit.

Despite the overwhelming feeling that she knew so much already, Gearrick readied himself against that. He had spent his life as a tinker feeling inferior and looked down upon. Princess or not, he was no less a stallion before her, and no less himself.

"From who? The police? Or Twilight?" he asked skeptically, his tone and expression carefully neutral.

Celestia's scowl seemed to lessen slightly at that, though for what reason Gearrick could not be certain. "From both," she replied simply. "To be honest, it's a credit to your integrity that the both of them had the same things to say, at least in terms of what transpired. It would seem that you left nothing out in your report to the police," she finished quietly.

"I have nothing to hide," Gearrick admitted honestly. His expression turned curious as he went back through what she had said. "What do you mean 'at least in terms of what transpired'? What else could the police have possibly told you?" he asked.

"Nothing," she said flatly. "But Twilight had much to say about you that did not concern the events of her kidnapping and rescue," Celestia replied.

Gearrick stumbled over his reply, eventually simply going quiet. That name, her name, had a profound effect on him. The mention of things said to the Princess that had nothing to do with his trial especially so, for he had been wondering where her heart lay for many nights now. What had she told Celestia?

"Is she alright?" Gearrick asked quietly.

Celestia's stern look dissolved almost instantly much to his surprise. As if he had said something she had been waiting to hear.

"She's fine," Celestia said quietly. "She was released from the hospital this morning. The worst of it was a dislocated shoulder, which she put back into place herself before the paramedics retrieved her," she explained.

Gearrick smiled sadly to himself, then nodded as he readied his next words. "She's a strong mare... I'm not surprised. She never even mentioned it to me," he chuckled.

"Yes she is," Celestia said quietly, her tone warm and motherly. "One of the strongest I know." Many moments of silence followed, during which both of their smiles grew thinner and thinner.

"I never meant to hurt her," Gearrick said unexpectedly, unable to look Celestia in the eye as he said it. He had wanted so badly to say those words to someone over the last three days. They'd been locked up inside his head like a broken record for what felt like eons, just waiting to be heard. More than anything he wanted to say them to Twilight. To explain himself.

Celestia moved to say something, but fell silent as he continued. "It doesn't seem fair to say I committed the crimes I did for her sake. As if, somehow, I never would have done those things if I hadn't met her," he went on sadly. "But I did. I had the choice to save her. If it takes me months, years, or decades... I don't regret it. I lost my home, I lost my dream, and maybe, for a while, I've lost her too."

"But I wouldn't take any of it back. Not the good, not the bad," he finished with determination.

"You know what you stand accused of?" Celestia asked, her tone surprisingly tender.

"And you know that I've already admitted to all of it," he replied simply, fearlessly. He had already said as much to the police, so the Princess would already know. This was the part where she sentenced him.

"Gearrick Tinkermane... you're free to go," Celestia said quietly.

Gearrick's entire world came to a standstill, replaying those words over and over in his mind. His fearful nights, wondering how many years he would have to wait to see Twilight again. Wondering if she still loved him, if he could just ask her before he was taken away. Yet, despite all his fears, he was free to go.

"A pardon?" he asked breathlessly, then his countenance shifted suddenly to anger. "Twilight asked you for that, didn't she? You can't-" he began angrily, but Celestia cut him off.

"Twilight did ask me to pardon you, but even on her behalf I can't," she admitted flatly. "No, it was Mick Magnet who forced me to let you go," she explained.

"Magnet?" Gearrick asked in disbelief.

"Yes. I admit, without shame, that he had beaten me at my own game. The law of this nation is a law I helped to design. Yet, because of his wit and will, he was able to outsmart even the law and set you free. You see, against individuals, and even companies, there is only so much sway I hold. I would violate the very tenets of the law itself to pardon you of crimes which you are fully guilty of."

She smiled at him, as if seeing clearly his confusion and shock. "Yet, Mick realized what I could not do. He knew that I could not free you, nor Myla and Phyla. I am bound as surely by the law as anyone. For Phyla's crimes, he himself took the blame," she explained. "And for yours, he dropped the charges. As head of the Gearbox Guild, whom all of your crimes were committed against, he has that right."

Gearrick was speechless. Magnet, the stallion who had made his life so difficult for two long years, who had denied him his every right and opportunity as a tinker, was responsible for his freedom.

"The only creature in this world who could have released you from the crimes you committed, no matter the good you have done, was Mick Magnet," she reiterated, as if sensing that Gearrick would need a statement to reply to in order to recover.

Gearrick let out a shuddering sigh, trying his best to understand. However, the answers eluded him. "Why?" he asked, unable to fathom it.

"Because you kept him from dying, Mick now lives knowing that his life was filled with darkness. Such is the darkness he saw in the beyond, the life after this one that all creatures move towards second after second. It is not rare for a creature's death to be prevented by some means," she went on quietly, "but it is unfathomably rare for a mortal to prevent another mortal's death so close to its completion. Gearrick Tinkermane, you saved Mick Magnet's life so close to its end that even fate was certain he was dead."

Gearrick was unable to deny a wordless breath of shock. That explained Mick's change in morality, despite his lack of change in overall character. Mick had been shown a glimpse of his terrible afterlife in the milliseconds before he had tumbled beyond Gearrick's magical reach.

More importantly, if Gearrick had hesitated even a second to save him, he would be experiencing the afterlife first-hoof that had so changed him.

"I don't know what to say," he explained quietly, his confusion based more in disbelief than lack of explanation.

"You need not say anything. Through your own actions you have been absolved of your crimes... and that is an exceptional gift," Celestia explained with a warm smile. "A gift that you have earned. It is clear to me now that your heart is full of a great passion which, no matter how you divide it, is overwhelming. Your love for Twilight, your instant aid in the last moments of Mick Magnet's existence... I didn't call you here to sentence you," Celestia said, warmth in her voice and expression for the first time Gearrick had heard or seen. "I called you here to judge you as a stallion. You were free the moment you saved my dear friend and student, though even I didn't know it then."

Tears welled in Gearrick's eyes, and he hadn't the slightest clue how to stop them. Everything was as only his most optimistic wishes would have it be. Yet it was beyond his dreams: this was reality. His salvation and Mick's were, by some twist of fate, one and the same.

Because of that, he would see Twilight again.

"Many ponies are waiting for you, not the least among them Twilight," Celestia said slyly, as if reading his very thoughts. The smile on her face showed that, though her timing was uncanny, she had known for many minutes that he would reach the conclusion he had about his beloved mare.

"And Mick?" Gearrick asked, surprising both himself and Celestia with his sincere question for the old stallion's fate.

"He has been dealt the hoof befitting his great sin, and great change," Celestia said simply. Yet her tone contained a note of warmth that promised Gearrick that that fate, however grim, was precisely as it was meant to be. "Now come," she said with a warm smile, rising from her chair. "I didn't have the guard remove your cuffs for no reason."

With a growing smirk and a ready nod, Gearrick followed suit as she left her seat, and the two of them made their way outside.

Twilight sat in the beautiful front lobby of town hall, her eyes fixated on one particularly pleasant-looking patch of tiles on the floor. She'd been released from the hospital earlier that morning, after the doctors had given her shoulder a thorough examination. Surprisingly, despite the dramatic cause of the injury and her less-than-professional job of repairing it, they hadn't found any lasting damage. Her shoulder would be bruised and stiff for a while, they had said, but that would clear up in just a few days' time.

Twilight hadn't paid much attention to any of it, though she knew her personal injuries should have been a bigger concern. When Celestia had come by to tell her the news about Gearrick's trial being a private one, she had argued long and hard to be able to go down to the precinct, all to no avail. Celestia had immediately, and non-negotiably, denied her wishes to see Gearrick before the entire matter was settled, one way or the other.

She'd been in the hall since very early that morning, after realizing she had nowhere to go after leaving the hospital. Her hotel stay had been cancelled, and the warehouse was completely destroyed. Twilight sighed to herself, closing her eyes as if it would ward off her unpleasant thoughts. She didn't see how sitting in the precinct, or in city hall, made any difference. She'd be anxious no matter what, especially since the Princess had more or less declared outright that there was nothing she could do for Gearrick. She shook her head and sighed once more, in another vain effort to push those thoughts away.

She'd gone in search of Old Jack at first, thinking to wait with him, but neither he nor his stall were anywhere to be found. She assumed, and even hoped, that maybe he was just asleep. Over the last three days, she had never seen him look more tired, or so old. He had been kind enough to bring her food as often as he could during her stay at the hospital, even shooing away the nurses who tried to bring her plates from the hospital kitchen, and cursing the "would-be meals" up and down the hallways while he did it.

His company had been great for her, but he and she both knew deep down that only one person would really bring a smile to her face.

She looked around, hoping to find something to distract her. The young lady at the lobby desk met her gaze, giving her a small, bittersweet smile. Twilight, despite herself, found some comfort in that smile. It looked so much like the one Gearrick had given her when the paramedics had carried her away. A smile that seemed to promise that something good was waiting, but for now it would be difficult.

The lobby girl had no real way of knowing why Twilight was there, or what was running through her head, and Twilight flushed and looked away slightly as she realized that it didn't matter. Even if nobody knew, the look on her face probably said it all; anypony could take one look at her and tell that she was worried, and frightened.

The lobby girl, for her part, gave Twilight her space and didn't say anything. Twilight wasn't sure why, but that simple smile had done wonders for her. Maybe it had just been too long since she had been encouraged, even in such a subtle way, or maybe it was simply because it was a smile, and not a worried scowl or a heavy sigh. Whatever the reason, she felt a little lighter as she focused on a potted plant, counting the leaves to keep herself busy, and to keep her mind from racing.

The numbers went abruptly from twenty-five to 'Gearrick Tinkermane', and she gave up.

She groaned and let her head drop into her hooves, rubbing her eyes slightly. At least she had been sleeping better, knowing that things were working towards a resolution, regardless of what kind it was.

Her ears perked up as the sound of light hoofsteps coming up the numerous stairs to city hall grew gradually louder. She recognized a voice outside immediately as Celestia, and her heart began to race. This meant that the trial was over, and that whatever had happened was finally done and over with.

She hopped off the couch she was sitting on abruptly, nerves buzzing with anticipation as Celestia pushed open the door to City Hall, and stepped inside. The seconds felt like hours while Twilight waited and prayed to whatever would listen that Gearrick would walk in behind her and end this nightmare.

Her heart sunk into her stomach as Celestia shut the door behind her, standing there alone. Celestia must have noted the look on her face already, because she looked hurt herself.

"What happened?" Twilight asked, her voice only half-there because of the tightness in her throat.

"It was as I was afraid it would be," Celestia admitted quietly, nodding to herself. "There was nothing I could do for him, Twilight."

Twilight's heart, low as it felt in her chest, sank even lower and stammered rather than beat.

"Luckily, I didn't need to do anything," the Princess continued, giving Twilight a slight smile.

Twilight's eyes, which were working up some serious tears, widened after a brief moment of confusion. She wiped away at her eyes hurriedly, giving Celestia the most hopeful look she had ever seen in her life. "You mean...?"

"He's free to go, though it had nothing to do with me," Celestia said with a wide smile.

A familiar laugh, one she had been missing for days, echoed from behind her where the other set of lobby doors rested. "You should see the look on your face," Gearrick continued, laughing warmly even while he spoke.

Twilight whirled around, unable to believe her ears until she saw him standing there. Smirking, as usual, and shutting the lobby doors behind him, as if nothing were wrong.

Her steps were slow at first, until suddenly she broke into a full run across the lobby floor, tears once more starting to fill up the rims of her eyes. The moisture immediately seeped into the coat on Gearrick's neck as he deftly caught her in her mad dash, lifting her from the floor in a hug and using her own momentum to spin her around, holding her close. She hugged him tight all the while, never noticing that her hooves left the floor, nor the circuit she spun. Everything felt like it was spinning anyways.

She opened her eyes and pulled her head away from his shoulder as she landed back on her rear hooves, her forelegs refusing to surrender their hold around his neck, keeping him close. A hoof on the back of her head brushed lightly through her mane, back and forth between her ears and her neck in a way that was still new, yet so familiar.

She hadn't lost him.

"You should see the look on your face," Gearrick said again, this time his tone more gentle, and less humorous. "It's beautiful."

Twilight looked him up and down slowly, as if still unsure he was real. Then, seemingly reading her mind, Gearrick kissed her lightly on the lips. Or at least he meant to, until she pulled him into a much deeper kiss.

Death-grip hug or not, Gearrick wouldn't have resisted.

Twilight gasped and pulled away suddenly, her cheeks flushed in embarrassment as she looked over her shoulder. Behind her stood Celestia, a hoof to her mouth to hide her smile, though her eyes revealed it clearly. As the initial shock began to wear off, Twilight replayed Celestia's words and mannerisms in her head just before Gearrick had entered... and through another door no less.

There was a scowl on her face when she turned back around to face Gearrick, still in her hug with him. She bopped him on the nose suddenly, glare still in place. "This was your idea, wasn't it?" she asked accusingly, referring to the way Celestia had led her to believe it all had gone poorly before he crept into the lobby another way. Behind her Celestia snickered, trying to hide her laughter and failing miserably.

"It's that obvious?" Gearrick asked, smiling even as he rubbed his nose. Twilight continued to glare and opened her mouth to say something else, but Gearrick took the hoof he was massaging his nose with and put it to her lips, silencing her. "Think you can find it in your heart to forgive me?" he asked teasingly, giving her that smirk that melted her heart.

Twilight, rolled her eyes, the scowl fading, and when Gearrick pulled his hoof away from her lips she was smiling. "I guess I can this once," she said quietly, kissing him once more on the lips gently. "But don't you ever, ever, do that again," she finished, referring to the entire series of events at large.

"I'll try not to," he promised with a warm laugh.

"Well, don't be too hard on him," Celestia piped in from behind them, ending their private moment. "After all, you really should have seen the look on your face," Celestia tittered, breaking into laughter and surprising everyone with how free and sincere her mirth was, tears of laughter brimming in her eyes.

Unable to help herself, Twilight started laughing too, and soon all three of them had it out of their system, the lady at the lobby desk looking thoroughly confused.

Twilight peeled herself away from Gearrick reluctantly, standing on her own four hooves again and smiling. However, the sudden good mood was abruptly dipped into confusion as the lobby doors behind Gearrick flew open with enough force to rattle the hinges, startling everyone.

Something rocketed through, skidding to a halt on the marble tile a short ways away from Gearrick and Twilight. Now that it wasn't moving so fast, Twilight could see it was an older unicorn mare. Pretty, for her age, with a very interesting copper-colored mane, cropped short. Her coat was a golden color, which made it difficult to see the three bronze-colored pegs that made up her cutie mark.

"Where is he?" she roared, hopping around in a small half-circle, looking at the opposite end of the lobby. "I'll kill him!" Her voice, though pretty and clearly female, was filled with anger and seemed uncharacteristically powerful for someone her size.

Confused, Twilight turned her attention to Gearrick.

He had a frightened look on his face as he eyed the newcomer, who was finally figuring out that that side of the lobby was empty. There was fire in her deep green eyes as they locked onto Gearrick, and he seemed to shrink as Twilight looked between the two.

"Gearrick Tinkermane..." the mare growled, her teeth clenched as she stalked, slowly at first, towards Gearrick, before breaking into a full run. But not the excited, happy kind Twilight had used on him earlier.

Without looking away from the oncoming mare, Gearrick pushed Twilight out of the way and closer to Celestia. No sooner had he done it than the mare tackled him full-tilt, the two of them bouncing away in a living ball of fluff and yelling. She shouted the whole time, though she was talking so fast that Twilight couldn't catch a word of it. All the while Gearrick shouted back, the mare swatting at him with her hooves whenever she could and otherwise rolling around in a death-lock.

Utterly confused, Twilight looked to Celestia, who by all appearances was exactly as vexxed and surprised as she was.

"Who is that?" Twilight asked, her tone worried. "Is he going to be okay?"

"That... is Brass Tacks," Celestia said quietly, watching the pony-ball with a look of concern.

Twilight's eyes widened with shock, her confusion deepening. She'd mentioned Tacks to Celestia during her long recounting of all things Gearrick, but prior to that the Princess had admitted to never having heard of her.

"I invited her here, thinking to have her oversee the remainder of the steamtech festival in Magnet's place," she admitted, as if following Twilight's train of thought. Without having called her here, Twilight could think of no reason she would have appeared. "And I knew that she would likely have some kind of confrontation with Gearrick, but I never expected this..."

The two combatants fell apart at long last, the both of them breathing heavily. Neither of them seemed to be hurt, despite the clear anger on Tacks' face. Gearrick's look was grim, hurt almost, though other than that he didn't appear to be in any pain.

"We need to talk," Brass Tacks growled, her tone still furious. "Alone."

Gearrick only nodded, saying nothing and looking very much like someone who knew he was in a great deal of trouble.

Gearrick sat across the table from his mentor, their physical tousle in the hall earlier all but forgotten. He had been dreading this moment since his construction of the RAD suit, dreaded telling Brass Tacks the one thing that would absolutely, without a doubt, disappoint her.

The two of them sat alone in a side-room of city hall, and Gearrick couldn't help but feel this was another interrogation.

He looked Tacks square in the eye, despite the anger he saw there. She had a right to be upset with him, and he had no right to look away or hide. To others, the ends had vastly overshadowed the means in Gearrick's one-night crusade to save Twilight from her captors. However, a tinker always knew that the process was just as important as the end result.

Tacks' scowl never faltered, and her tone remained biting, as she finally spoke up. "You lied to me," she accused simply.

Gearrick winced, looking away for just a brief moment of weakness before he sighed and fixed his eyes back on hers. She was angry, but more than that she was hurt.

"Yes, I did," Gearrick replied quietly, sadly.

For that one second her face softened somewhat, until her harsh look returned, her words strained to control their tone. "Why?" she asked slowly, her tone making it very clear that this answer was critical.

Gearrick clenched his jaw for a moment, steeling himself for the reaction he knew he would get. "Because I had no choice."

"Bullshit!" Tacks roared, slamming her hooves down on the table and rising up out of her chair. "You always-" she began, shouting at the top of her lungs, but Gearrick cut her off, shouting louder. His deep voice, so filled with anger and hurt, drowned her outcry out with its sheer force alone.

"I had no choice!" he roared violently, rising from his own chair, supporting himself with one hoof on the table while the other raised over his head, threatening to come down on the table in a fit of rage. The hoof hovering overhead never struck, though. It simply wavered, shaking with nerves, before descending to his side as he slumped back into his chair.

"I had no choice," he muttered again quietly, easily heard in the resulting shocked silence. He had never yelled at Tacks that way in all his years training under her. Never reacted violently, never been angry. Frustrated, maybe, but never so fierce.

Tacks sat down hard, her mouth clamped shut and unable to think of anything to say for many minutes. At last she simply sighed, and shook her head. "You're a tinker, Gearrick. There's always a choice, always some other way."

"Then maybe I'm not good enough!" he growled back, his anger from moments before still far from dying down. After everything he had done, after finally getting Twilight back, he stood to be accused of choosing to save her?

Tacks winced, but rather than looking away, her own temper flared up. It was in her nature; she had always been hot-blooded, passionate. She was quick to anger, quick to laugh, and in that way more than any other Gearrick respected her. She was dauntless, unafraid of anything. Anything except one thing.

"You made a weapon," she accused coldly.

"I made a weapon," Gearrick admitted, his own anger keeping his tone from faltering under her scathing glare. "And I would do it again, if it meant keeping the people I love safe." Tacks opened her mouth to retaliate, but Gearrick just held up a hoof, glaring unblinkingly behind it. "You don't understand."

That simple, cold statement seemed to take a much larger toll on her than Gearrick had anticipated. For ten years Brass Tacks had been his mentor, but more than that she had been like a sister. The older, overly forceful and protective kind. He had never had any siblings of his own, and so Gearrick had never questioned that relationship as it developed during his studies under her.

Unfortunately what he had said was the truth. She would never understand what had driven him to make a weapon.

Brass Tacks was an ace student. Always had been, but the professors at the academy had mixed feelings about her. While her grades were phenomenal, she showed an almost unreasonable ineptitude in a very small number of key subjects. Particularly in terms of her design classes, where she struggled to explain even her most basic engineering ideas, whether on paper or in a presentation.

Still, there was no denying her genius. Whether or not she could illustrate her invention prior to construction seemed to be almost entirely irrelevant to her. Most professors disagreed with her 'wayward tinkering', imagining it to be trial and error. However, on every test, and in every technical review, it was proven time and again that her skill was no fluke. She was the 'mad genius' of the university, a highly respected student and a sought-after tutor in a wide variety of subjects.

However, just like her tinkering, her personality could not be explained. One had to experience it first-hoof to even have an idea of what kind of creature she was. Everything was shrouded in her passion. Her laughter was boisterous, her speech animated, her temper fiery. She existed in an entirely different world altogether from the mild-mannered, reclusive students the institution swarmed with.

She knew exactly what she wanted to do with her degree from the school: the Royal Guard Research and Development Division was going to be her ticket to an exciting job. In the military, results were everything. Nobody would drone on about wanting to see a schematic, or her math. All the higher ups would want was results, and that was what Brass Tacks delivered. Making armor, making weapons, it didn't matter to her as long as she could be free to tinker her heart out.

She'd been seeing someone since her sophomore year: Calvin Clock, a witty and clever stallion with an uncommon sense of humor. The two were in the same class, and had hit it off easily. Calvin never seemed to be put off by her abrasive, forward nature. If anything it seemed to attract him more, and it had only been a matter of time before the two had started going steady.

Calvin wanted to be a railway engineer, putting nearly all of his focus into locomotive studies. However, by their senior year together, his outlook on his relationship with Tacks had changed. It was no longer something that seemed like it would end with their degrees in hoof. More than anything he wanted to know where her life would take her, wanted to be a part of it. After two years together, he proposed, and she accepted.

Calvin decided to follow Tacks into the military, though it meant completely reworking his senior schedule. Together the two of them enrolled in the most brutal course the academy could offer, the prime prerequisite for entry into the R&D division of the Royal Guard: Warfare Mechanics and Theory.

The year flew by, the engaged couple closer than ever. The two were allowed a partnership thesis, and chose Warfare Mechanics as their subject at Tacks' prodding. With Clocks' amazing design expertise and his unique ability to understand Tacks better than anyone else, they made a perfect team. He handled all of the schematics, designing them based on what she constructed, rather than the other way around. Their project, a steamtech powered rifle, was highly lauded by the academy. The military caught wind of the project long before it was even completed.

Tacks and Clock were promised positions in R&D upon completion of their thesis. The couple had never been happier in their lives, and that night they celebrated the way those in love often do for the first... and only time.

That weekend they were to present their thesis project, the steamtech rifle, to not only the university board but to representatives from the R&D division as well. Tacks and Clock worked late that night, making sure that everything would be perfect for the review the following day. Tacks had been working harder than anyone else in the class, helping other groups with their projects when she had the time and making sure that all of them would stand the best chances to get into the R&D division as well. After all, she was already promised a position, and it had always been in her nature to help others do their damnedest.

Clock waved her on her way, staying behind to finish a few final touches to a very important diagram for the presentation. She argued he could do that at home, in the cozy apartment they had been sharing since their engagement. He promised it wouldn't take long, and insisted she needed her rest. After all, with her vibrant personality and compelling tone, she would be the one delivering the presentation. She had to be at the top of her game.

He stayed another hour in the lab, his drawings finalized at long last. With a heavy yawn and a look at his watch, he decided it was finally time for bed himself. He put the lights out and locked the door behind him automatically, used to being the last one out of the lab. He was at the stairs to the bottom floor of the lab building when a loud crash from back down the hall stole his attention. Fearing that someone had left something running and caused a pressure accident, he hurried back the way he had come, looking into the windows of each lab as he went.

When he came to the Warfare Mechanics lab, he could see something moving behind the smoked glass. Ever the worrier, he fished out his key and threw the door to the lab open without hesitation. There was a stallion standing there in front of his schematics and the steamtech rifle, a gaping hole in the windows between the Warfare Mechanics lab and the Energy Solutions lab where he had broken in.

The stallion whirled on Clock, and he recognized him as a student in the Warfare Mechanics class. One who was not doing well, and who would likely fail the course. But failing the course would mean his expulsion, for he had never been a good student and had too many black marks on his record. Clock didn't know it, but the stallion's family was not doing well. His mother was sick, and his father had left. He needed his degree, needed an engineering job to take care of her. One that would pay enough to relieve her condition, put her in care. No job would pay out harder than an R&D division position, and the steamtech rifle was a promised voucher of entry.

Clock asked the stallion what he was doing. The stallion stammered, refused to answer. Clock, understanding what was going on, tried to talk to him. Explained that he would be expelled if he got caught here doing this. Promised not to tell anyone, as long as he left right away. He would tell the professors that the shattered glass was just an accident from a machine left running.

The stallion got agitated. Started yelling, accusing Clock of not understanding. Claiming that nobody could understand. Clock tried to calm him down, but he only grew more hysterical. He accused Clock of lying, saying that he knew Clock would report this. Clock swore that he would never do that, that he was being unreasonable. Clock told him he was a good student, with great potential, and that he just needed to calm down. If he talked to the professors, explained what was going on, he was sure they would understand. Let him retake the course.

Clock stepped closer, closing the door behind him. The other stallion reacted negatively, felt trapped. He pulled the rifle from its stand, holding it in shaking hooves. Clock's heart felt cold, his stomach churned. He sighed in relief as he remembered the rifle was not loaded. That the magazine had never been inserted, and the large, metal slugs were not in the chamber.

Clock continued moving forward, talking him down. The stallion shook his head and retaliated, shouting. Clock gave him a calm smile and kept on drawing closer. The stallion panicked, and reached behind him. Papers shuffled and fell from the table in front of the rifle stand, littering the floor with Clock's precious designs. He paid them no mind, because time stopped as the stallion brought his hoof forward and slammed the magazine into place under the rifle stock.

He shot Clock seven times, eyes blank as he pulled the trigger lever over and over.

Tacks found out that morning when she went to the lab. There were already police and professors everywhere. Clock's body was under a white sheet, preventing her from seeing him. Police pushed her out of the lab while she screamed and called out for Clock, trying to force her way inside. She lashed out at the officers in front of her, knocking one out cold. The other got out of her way, wouldn't dare stand between her and Clock's body after that. Couldn't bear to, with the tears in her eyes.

She pulled the sheet back, saw the holes in his chest and legs. The same holes her rifle punched into everything in tests. She covered him back up, unable to see anything through her tears as she looked around for the rifle. She found it where the stallion who shot Clock had dropped it in panic before he fled. She picked it up and ran, the police behind her chasing and yelling for her to stop, that the rifle was crucial evidence. She never heard them.

She ran to the board office. Despite the terrible event that morning, the Military representatives had already come to town. They were discussing the incident with the board when Tacks barged in, crying and holding the rifle in her hooves. The board recoiled as she hoisted the weapon, not knowing it was empty and knowing full-well what it could do. The military representatives rushed to apprehend her, until she leveled it at them, backing them off.

She asked them if they knew what this was. All in attendance nodded fearfully as her eyes shifted from sad and heartbroken to angry; furious, murderous. She asked if they knew what it could do. If they knew what it had done. She asked if they planned to use it to do that to other creatures. If they would kill someone like Clock.

Nobody knew how to react as she pulled the trigger over and over, sobbing as the weapon clicked emptily again and again. The point of the rifle sank lower and lower until, with a growl that rose into a roar of agony, Tacks raised the rifle and smashed it into the floor, so many times she lost count, shattering her prized work into pieces before falling down among them and weeping like a little girl.

The police released her days later. She never returned to the academy, except to attend Clock's funeral. For many years, nobody heard from her. She wandered from town to town, fixing things to make her way and getting over Clock's death. At long last she began to recover. She opened a small shop in a town south of Cloudsdale, and lived alone there. It was a quiet life until, one day, she received a letter. She recognized the name on the return as Gambit Tinkermane, a close childhood friend of Clock's. She hadn't spoken to him in many years, not since the event.

The letter was simple. It contained no pleasantries, Gambit knew they would be meaningless. Tacks had never liked such things. It simply asked for her to come back to Tackton, pleading for a favor. Without even a thought she closed up her shop and took the week off for the trip.

When she arrived, Gambit was there to meet her. The two went out to the bar, and Gambit explained the situation. His son had been in an accident. The academy wouldn't take him anymore, but Gearrick refused to give up on his dream. He wanted to be a tinker, but needed training. Otherwise, Gambit feared that this accident would repeat itself, and his son wouldn't be so lucky a second time. He wanted Tacks to apprentice him.

Tacks could hardly say no. Gambit had always been a good friend to Clock, and to her. Not to mention her life was lonely since her spirit had finally recovered from the loss. Her outgoing, fiery personality was wasted in solitude. With a show of minor reluctance for effect, she agreed to take him.

She met Gearrick for the first time the next morning. He was sulky, angry at the academy and at himself. Her promise of an education, one far more useful than the academy could provide, cheered him up. She laughed warmly as she got to know him better that week, his parents preparing him for the trip. For the next few years, he would live with Tacks, learning under her.

At last they arrived at her shop. Gearrick was animated, curious by nature. He astounded her by how much he knew, and what he saw in the things around her shop. Things she had made, and things that had never even been imagined before. She let him get used to the place that week while she worked, and often caught him sneaking parts from her workshop up to his room. She loved every moment of it, though she put on a show of being hard on him. He reminded her so much of herself, and yet so much of Clock, the way he handled himself. Calm, witty, and clever.

The night before his first day of training, the two of them had a quiet dinner as usual. Tacks set her fork down unexpectedly, drawing a curious look from Gearrick. She explained that he would start his official training the next day. That it would be hard work, and that he would have to do a lot of things he probably wasn't going to enjoy. He would be frustrated, he would struggle, but she would help him. Gearrick nodded, and was glad to accept these terms.

"But before I train you, you have to promise me one thing," she had told the twelve-year old Gearrick Tinkermane.

"Anything," he replied eagerly.

"Promise me that you will never make a weapon," she said darkly.

Sensing the gravity of the promise he was about to make, Gearrick had nodded only once. "I promise."

"Why?" Brass Tacks asked again, her voice now strained with hurt, the anger missing.

Gearrick wanted to say again that he had had no choice, but knew she would never accept that. Knew that if anyone deserved the truth it was her. "I did what I thought was right, to save Twilight," he explained quietly. "I know what I promised to you, and you know that I meant it all those years ago. You can't honestly believe that I would break that promise to you for anything less than life or death," he said pleadingly, his anger finally fading as well. He was one of the very few people close to Tacks who knew her dark history, who understood why she so hated weapons. He knew that, in the end, he could not stay angry with her, not hold her fear and anger against her.

"A weapon is always a matter of life or death," Tacks said quietly, her voice tender as if to say 'how many time have I told you' the way a worried mother would scold a child she loves with tears in her eyes.

"I didn't kill anyone," Gearrick said seriously, and he was relieved to see that her expression showed some relief. Barely noticeable, but it was there.

"You could have," she whispered, her lip quivering as tears welled in her eyes.

Those tears stung Gearrick's heart deeply. "I nearly did," he admitted quietly. "Without my magic, I would have killed someone."

She reeled back in shock, tears flecking away from the force of her withdrawal. Her worry was too thick a barrier for her anger to punch through anymore as she saw true, sincere remorse in Gearrick's expression. But, more than that, she could tell that he understood better than anyone the gravity of the damage he could have done. Understood it better than even Brass Tacks herself.

"They took the girl I loved away from me," he said firmly, his determined scowl never fading as he wound up his speech. "After everything else around me had been destroyed, I didn't even know if she was alive or dead," he growled, an admission he had given to no one, not even himself. He had needed hope in that terrible time, but deep down he had been afraid that he would never see her again, not after seeing what the pony who had taken her away was capable of. He had nearly died himself.

"And I knew that on my own, I couldn't stop them. Not without the right tools," he finished seriously.

"A weapon is not a tool!" Tacks retaliated, though her tone was more desperate than angry, begging him to understand.

"It is exactly that!" Gearrick shouted back, slamming his hooves down on the table and rising from his chair again, his determined look still there. "Don't you get it? It has nothing to do with the tool, and everything to do with who uses it! You've spent your entire life believing that having a weapon means someone will die on the other end of it!"

Brass Tacks took in a sharp breath, shocked into silence.

"But that's not true," Gearrick went on, his voice wavering and his determined expression softening somewhat, looking bittersweet. "A weapon is a tool like any other. You can use it to kill, or you can use it to save lives. When it's in your hooves, it all comes down to what you decide to do with it. More powerful than any other tool, maybe even so powerful that you can't control it," he said sadly. "I know that now. A weapon is dangerous. Anything with potential is. But at the end of the day, a gun or a sword isn't evil. The stallion who shoots it or swings it, and aims to kill... that's what you should really be afraid of."

"Gearrick," Brass Tacks whispered, watching with slightly teary eyes as he walked around the table, heading for her.

He hugged her tightly, squeezing her like he had used to on the nights where he'd had terrible dreams, or the days where he was so frustrated and needed her support. "I'm sorry," he said sadly, hugging her tightly. "For hurting you, but not for what I did. I did what I knew was right, and I can't change that. I hope for the rest of my life that I never have to make a weapon again, but if you ask me not to I can't make that promise. All I can promise is that, if I have to to save the people I love, I will do whatever it takes to protect them," he whispered, his voice pinching as he again squeezed her tightly, crying tears of apology into her shoulder.

She hugged him back, tears in her own eyes. She didn't know what to say, or how to say it. She had never been good with words, and in that department he had always out-tinkered her. She knew he was hurt over it, hurt over the promise he had made to her. She couldn't change her life, or how she felt about weapons, the things they could do, but he wasn't asking her to change. Only to understand that, if the time came, he would do what was right. To live his own life unburdened by a promise that might have cost him the life of someone he loved.

"It's alright," she whispered tearfully, sniffling a bit. "I understand. I can't order you around forever," she said with a sad laugh, wiping her eyes as she pulled away. "I still love you, you know" she said, choking up a bit at the end.

Gearrick just smiled, not even bothering to wipe the tears from his own eyes, his coat matted with twin streams that bled into the scars on his jaw. "I know. I love you too, Tacks," he replied warmly, hugging her once more. "I know."

Twilight sighed in relief as Gearrick and Tacks walked back out of the meeting room, their faces tear-stained but no longer furious. Gearrick gave Twilight a small, tired smile that further convinced her that whatever had happened had been necessary, if unpleasant. Tacks, too, gave the small gathering of ponies outside the meeting room a weary smile, ending the worries there once and for all.

That small group of waiting ponies now included Mayor Malter, who had been drawn out of his office by reports of a ruckus in the main lobby, only to find Princess Celestia in the middle of the rumored fuss. Celestia had confirmed that it was far from a rumor, and the mayor had joined her and Twilight in waiting outside the meeting room. Much angry shouting and raised voices had left the tensions high until at last things seemed peaceful once again.

"You must be Mayor Malter," Brass Tacks reasoned, her previously forward and fiery personality seeming much more like it was all back in place as she looked the pudgy pony up and down with a critical eye.

"Yes, I... well," he muttered, clearly flustered as she so openly sized him up.

"Rumor has it you need my help," Tacks continued, smirking in a way that was hauntingly familiar to Twilight's sensibilities.

Twilight's confusion about that statement only deepened as Mayor Malter, too, looked thoroughly puzzled.

"Malter, this is the mare I was telling you about. She used to be top of her class in the steamtech academy, and I'm sure she'd do a fine job as a judge for the final stage of the tournament," Celestia put in warmly.

"Ah yes, quite right," Malter chuckled, extending a hoof. "You must be miss Tacks. A pleasure, I assure you, though I wish you could visit under less pressing circumstances," he apologized while she shook his hoof, surprising him with the strength of her grip.

"Happy to help. I've always wanted to see the festival, but with Mick being the one behind the whole deal it never really felt that enticing," she admitted with a mischievous chuckle. "It's probably worth seeing now that he's not sticking his nose in every engine."

Twilight smiled as Gearrick let out a warm chuckle at that, pulling her close. "So the contest isn't over yet?" he inquired, having heard nothing about it during his incarceration. He was honestly surprised that things hadn't been moved along by now.

"Unfortunately not," Malter grumbled, his fat cheeks bouncing slightly as he shook his head. "Mick was quite frankly the only capable engineer left on the judges panel. The technical review stage is well behind us now, but even in the final stage I thought it would be pointless to appoint a winner without a true tinker's say in the matter. Why, what kind of steamtech festival would it be then?" he inquired loudly of no one in particular.

"Good point," Gearrick put in with a sigh. "Who are the four finalists?"

For the first time that Gearrick had ever seen, there was a mischievous smile on the mayor's pudgy face. "Five actually," he replied simply, though his tone, too, held a hint of something sly.

"Five?" Gearrick asked, thoroughly puzzled. "There're never more than four finalists. Was there a tie in the third stage?"

"Not at all," Malter chuckled, his belly rolling with his laughter. "No, my boy, it is simply because you have not yet been disqualified!"

Gearrick's eyes widened in surprise, and Twilight nudged him when she began to worry that he wasn't breathing. With her hoof in his ribs he gasped suddenly, all but proving her right as he fought for air and words. "Not... disqualified?" he asked in complete disbelief. "Why not?"

"Well, it's a bit of a complicated loophole you see. It falls to judges' rule to disqualify a participant in a stage, even in the event if the participant fails to attend. However, in the case of the technical review, the judges in question are not the same as the judges for the festival..." Malter let his words trail off, seeing the astounded expression on Gearrick's face.

"Right, because during the technical review the judicial committee is made up of engineers not belonging to the guild here in Manehattan. They come from all over to conduct the review. So what you're saying...?" he asked, as if he was almost afraid to believe it.

"That's right, my boy. The engineers who performed the technical review never deliberated on this topic, though myself and Mick did so most furiously. However, Mick and I were not the judges for stage three, and so you were technically never disqualified," he chuckled, his smile proving that he thought himself quite clever.

Gearrick thought so too, apparently, for he was beaming ear to ear. That was, of course, until he came to a new realization. "I still didn't pass the review, though. Technically that means I can't be a finalist," he pointed out. "Loopholes or not."

"Ah yes, quite right. Had almost forgotten all about that. After Magnet's arrest, I knew that something fishy had happened," he explained. "The police quite explained the destruction of your wonderful machine, and I will admit I have not been impressed by something so thoroughly in a very long time. I suppose you could say I was biased," he admitted. "Anyways, I did what any good mayor would do and I put it to a vote."

"A vote of what?" Gearrick asked, almost exasperated with how this was all being laid out.

"Why, I polled the whole city on whether or not you should be allowed to continue competing!" he guffawed. "And wouldn't you know it, everyone who voted voted in favor of it. We had a rough time of it... there were so many duplicate ballots that we could hardly believe it," he went on, a warm smile on his face.

"So then..." Gearrick whispered, shocked into speechlessness.

"Aye. best of luck in the final stage, Mr. Tinkermane. I should think that tomorrow will do nicely," the mayor finished, wandering away, and grabbing Tacks up in conversation on his way past her, the two of them wandering off.

Before she turned the corner, she gave Gearrick a look that made him wonder if he had been better off with Mick as a judge.

XIV: Finality

Gearrick sighed to himself as he sat on the edge of the street, gazing down the alleyway where ponies were still removing the wreckage of the Nomad and his warehouse. The sunset coming off the river behind him painted everything orange and pink, low enough to dip under the Veil. The great cloud overhead looked like it had caught fire and its beauty far outshone the dreary wreckage of his home, even when it was what drew his attention most.

It wasn't so bad, he supposed, considering that he hadn't really owned the place to begin with. He allowed himself a small smile as he imagined how much worse the loss of the riverside property would be for the old printing company owner who still had the lease in his name and payments to make.

"Are you going to be alright?" Twilight asked, watching the crew clean up the explosion site with her front hooves resting lightly on his shoulders. It was hard to imagine that the two small explosives had done this much damage; then again, Mick had been a genius when it came to things destructive or shady.

"I'll be fine," Gearrick said, letting out an only half-convincing chuckle. "It wasn't much of a home anyways. Still isn't much of one, I guess," he said with a small smile, encouraging Twilight's gentle, comforting hug around his neck as she sat behind and above him on the riverside bench. He felt better sitting on the street this way, with her draped over him comfortably like a living blanket. He hadn't lost everything. Her scent, and the feel of her coat brushing through his own, put his heart at ease. It reminded him that everything was worth it, even the loss of his thousands of bits and years of tireless work on the Nomad.

Even that.

He stroked one of her back legs as it draped down at his side to ward those thoughts away. It felt so good to touch her; to feel her. It was just comfortable, almost casual. It felt real, and right, and he had wanted nothing more than this for the last three days. He could still hardly believe he had this chance to be with her again, but he had ceased questioning it. The Princess had often mentioned 'fate' during his so-called trial, that mythical and fearsome force rumored to guide all lives in some strange way. He didn't know if he believed in fate, but just this one he had accepted that maybe that's all there was to it. He didn't want to dwell on anything anymore. He had Twilight, and that was enough.

She smiled, leaning out over him and propping herself up on his head as she looked at him upside down. He tilted his head slightly to the left and upward, his horn carefully out of the way as they shared an unorthodox kiss. She returned to her seat shortly after, the angle of the kiss not comfortable for either of them, and rested her chin in his mane, hugging him tight. He could tell she felt the same: like nothing else mattered so long as they were together again.

She was worried though. Gearrick could feel it; sense it almost. The look in her eyes that wasn't completely happy, that wasn't satisfied on his behalf. The slight tension in her otherwise warm embrace and the subtle sighs every so many breaths spoke volumes to him. He reached up and behind him, wrapping one of his forelegs around her own as it hugged him tight, and sighed once himself.

"I'm alright..." he whispered, as much to himself as to her, his tone serious and somehow final. He didn't laugh it away, didn't smile through it this time, just admitted it how it was: unpleasant and not what he had been hoping for, but what he had been dealt.

"What are you going to do?" Twilight asked, seeming to relax slightly at his determined declaration. Her question didn't waver and didn't seem concerned. She was simply curious, wondering how he would begin again.

"I don't know," he said with a small laugh, but it lacked any feeling of sorrow anymore. "What I've always done, I guess. I'll figure my way through all of this somehow. When I came here I was homeless and bitless. I did it once, and I can do it again," he said confidently.

"But last time you won the contest," she pointed out, her tone slightly hesitant, as if she didn't want to broach that topic just yet.

"That's true," he admitted, but his smile didn't fade. "And I was the underdog then, too."

"You don't have the Nomad anymore, though," Twilight went on, growing more comfortable as she noticed that his confidence wasn't shaken.

"I won't need it for the final stage," he said, stretching his back with a grunt before settling into her grip more comfortably. "It doesn't focus as much on the invention as everyone's been made to think. It's called 'The Pitch'," Gearrick explained.

"The final four contestants, or five in this case, are supposed to try and sell their inventions in this stage. They don't really sell them, but that's not the point," he continued. "The idea is that the tinker should be able to show why someone would want their invention. To try and prove that it's useful for anyone, and that it could improve daily life somehow. It's up to the crowd, the people who depend on the technology we design every day. Ponies who think that they would like to have one fill out a mock purchase order for the invention of their choice. I have to admit, it's a very clever voting mechanism for the final stage. Ponies can put in orders for all of the final entries if they really want to, though most only vote for one thing. The judges themselves can vote too, though they don't have to."

"I get it," Twilight said with a small smile. "It's about gauging the demand."

"Exactly, and it's a pretty clever trick. At the end the finalists have the option to auction their inventions. The guild almost always buys the initial inventions for a pretty high price, and shortly after they purchase the patent, giving them exclusive rights to the devices from previous contests. Mick wasn't any kind of idiot," Gearrick said with a chuckle. "By making the fourth stage this way, everyone feels like they've won, but in reality it was the guild who really came out on top. Mick could hoof-pick which patents the guild purchased based on the voting in this stage. The device with the most 'purchase orders' wins."

"That's brilliant," Twilight admitted, though she said it casually as if she had come to expect that from more or less everyone lately. "The ponies who come to see the festival get to vote and feel like they decide the winner, and the final four all get a decent profit for their designs. Everypony wins."

"Exactly," Gearrick said, no longer surprised himself by Twilight's quick-thinking. "And normally the finalists present their device when they deliver their pitch for added effect, but I won't have mine. I'm in a unique position, Twilight. I don't have any blueprints or designs, and I wasn't going anywhere with a patent on the Nomad. I had no intention of ever selling it to the guild, or giving them enough time to study it and build one themselves. So, basically, I have to try and sell it on concept alone," he said with a huffing sigh.

"And it means I won't see a bit unless I win, because there is no Nomad or blueprint for anypony to buy," he finished.

"You don't seem too worried, though," Twilight pointed out, giving him a slight squeeze to help fix his mood.

"Yeah, because I don't have anything to lose," he said with a smile, patting her leg to prove he was fine. "Mayor Malter worked hard to find that loophole for me, and I'm getting a free pass to try and salvage what I can from the Nomad: the dream, the idea. For me it's all or nothing now. I just have to hope that what everyone saw of the Nomad, and what I have to say, will be enough to convince them."

"You could convince anypony of anything," she said warmly, kissing the top of his head. "After all, you convinced me to love you, convinced the Mayor to give you a second chance... Even convinced Mick to help you," she pointed out.

Gearrick chuckled and wriggled about, turning and standing in front of her with a warm smile on his face. "Thanks, Twilight. Think you'd buy one?" he asked jokingly, offering a hoof to help her off the bench. "I could really, really use the money."

She laughed, taking his hoof and falling into him as he pulled her harder than she had been expecting. "I don't know if I can afford something like that," she said teasingly, but had no time to say anything else as he kissed her gently.

"Well that's reassuring," he joked back as they broke off their embrace. "Enough about that, though... I have bigger problems."

"Like what?" Twilight asked, thoroughly perplexed by that thought.

"Like where I'm going to sleep tonight," he chuckled, pointing to the wreckage of his home, growing dimmer by the second as the sun sank lower and lower over the river.

"In a bar somewhere, probably," Twilight said, rolling her eyes and smiling.

"Ouch, harsh," Gearrick said, wincing as if he'd been stung, though it faded into a smile almost instantly. "Still, it wouldn't be the first time," he chuckled.

"Or you could sleep with me," Twilight said, but she trailed off and turned red almost instantaneously, her cheeks burning up and her eyes going wide as she realized the possible context of what she had just said.

Gearrick took on a shocked look at first, too, until he grinned mischievously. Normally he was the one who would have said something awkward or easily misinterpreted, but now the shoe was on the other hoof. He narrowed his eyes and gave her a slightly twisted smirk, trying his hardest to go for a lewd look and strike while the iron, and her ruby-red face, was still hot.

"We-heh-hell, if you insist," he chuckled, inching closer and moving to put a foreleg around her.

It had the desired effect and she went stiff as a board, seeming more likely to tip over than to get her legs back under her as Gearrick pulled her into a tight hug. Her eyes were still wide, looking as far away from him as possible, and Gearrick wasn't even sure if she was still breathing.

"Twilight... Twilight, I'm kidding," he chuckled, giving her a gentle shake. "I know you didn't mean it that way."

She seemed to snap out of it at that, and though she was still red in the face her wide eyes dropped into a lethal scowl as she pegged Gearrick solidly in the ribs with her elbow, drawing an 'oof' out of him while she continued her relentless glare.

"Don't do that!" she grumbled, her look turning into something more of a sulk than a threatening stare as she again looked away from him.

"But I appreciate the offer," he gasped, desperately continuing his joke and clutching his suddenly aching ribs with his free hoof, his other still looped over her neck.

"Ugh!" Twilight growled, giving him a hard push and upending him, causing him to fall to the ground where he laughed uncontrollably for a while.

By the time he had finished laughing, Twilight had more or less gotten over it, and was unable to deny the small smile playing at her lips while she watched him wipe the tears of laughter from his eyes.

"It's about time this happened to you instead of me," he huffed, still trying to catch his breath.

"At least I was nicer to you when that happened," she muttered, giving him one last scowl before sighing and shaking her head. "I didn't mean it that way," she confirmed at last, despite there not being a need. "But I did mean it," she went on, giving him a small smile. "That room in the hotel was still open after I left, so I'm staying there until tomorrow night," she trailed off, her smile shrinking.

"When you take the train home," Gearrick finished, his tone strong and unafraid. "I know. You've already been here a lot longer than you planned." His heart sank when she mentioned it, if he was being honest with himself, but she didn't need to know that. She needed to feel like it was okay, like it was normal.

"A lot of things happened that I didn't plan," Twilight said with a sigh, and the smile that came out as a result reassured Gearrick somewhat, until it vanished almost instantly.

"Gearrick... Why not come back with me?" Twilight asked quietly, hesitantly. "To Ponyville. You can stay with me at the library until you're back on your hooves again, and there are plenty of nice houses you could buy there," she went on, channeling her inner Applejack as she looked at the very uninteresting stone walkway while working a hoof in slow, nervous circles along the ground.

Gearrick was speechless for a moment. It was no secret that Twilight's heart was bigger than most, but the offer still took him by surprise... because it was more than an offer. Her blushing face, her nervousness, and her pleading tone showed it for what it really was: a wish, a request.

He'd be lying to himself if he said he hadn't considered it when he thought of her during his nights in the holding cell, wondering if he'd even get to see her again. One of the many questions he had asked himself on those nights, when sleep seemed far away, was what he was going to do if she left. With everything else missing in Manehattan, what did he have left?

He sighed to himself, knowing the answer that would come out of his mouth. "I'd love to, Twilight... but I can't," he said quietly, sadly. It wasn't at all what he wanted to say, but he knew that it was the truth.

She stopped moving completely for a moment and then her shoulders slumped ever so slightly, which only made the hurt starting to pool in Gearrick's chest grow deeper. "Why not?" she asked sadly. Though there were no tears in her eyes, her tone was pinched, strained for the level of control she was showing.

"There's nothing left here, right?" she asked, her whole expression looking like it was going to fall apart. "After the contest tomorrow you won't have a home here. After what happened with the guild that dream's gone, too," she continued, and she was starting to sound exasperated as she listed the many reasons that no longer held him there. "The one dream you have left, rebuilding the Nomad... you can do that anywhere. Even in Ponyville," she said pleadingly, her eyes starting to well up now as she hit the end of her logic and began to run on emotion.

"You're right... I don't have anything left here," he said quietly, and though it hurt him to look into her teary eyes he held firm. "Nothing's going to keep me here anymore. But I can't come with you yet," he finished simply.

"Why not?" she asked again, sniffing slightly and trying to be angry instead of sad about his answer. "If nothing's keeping you here, then what's keeping you away?"

"Time," Gearrick said quietly.

"What?" she asked, clearly confused.

"I need some time," he said quietly. "Time to do a few things, go a few places. To grow what's between us right now," he explained. "What would people say if you left for a week, and came home with a stallion who started living with you out of the blue? You and I both know our relationship is right, but it's still early for that," he said sadly.

"But I lived with you while I was here! You offered!" she shouted, poking a hoof at him. "You're being a hypocrite!"

"And if anypony ever has anything bad to say about that, they'll say it about me," Gearrick said with a small smile that begged her to understand. "They'd just talk about how I took advantage of some poor girl from out of town at the worst. Those rumors wouldn't bother me here... I was never going to be here much longer anyways," he said with a sigh. "But what about you, at home? You live there, and you probably always will. What would people say about you?"

"I don't care!" Twilight hiccuped, shaking her head. "I don't care what they'd think about it! Or about you, or anything else!" she cried, now closing her eyes and looking away from him. The silence grew between them, Gearrick not knowing what to say and Twilight trying to control her nerves again. At last she broke the stillness, her tone much steadier but still sad.

"I know you're just trying to look out for me," she said, glancing back at him and keeping her gaze there again, the tears fading. "But for three days all I could think was how badly I wanted to see you again, wondering when the next time would be that I would get the chance. I don't want to do that again," she said, shuddering slightly at the memory. "I never want to wonder when the next day I'll get to see you is going to be. I want it to be like it was just a few days ago... Waking up, and having you there. Ever since Spike moved out, I've been so alone. And it hurts," she said with a shaky sigh, closing her eyes and biting her lip, before she again regained her control.

"I'm not going to leave you Twilight," Gearrick replied, his heart torn to just give in and grant her request. "I'm not trying to run away from you. I know exactly how you feel," he admitted quietly. "I've been in this city with nobody but Jack I could really turn to for two years. That's why I need some time," he said with a sad smile. "Time to go home, see my family again and tell them what happened. Time to sit with Tacks, clear the water some more... revisit the shop in Cloudsdale. Time to sort myself out, and really think about what it is I want to do now that everything's fallen apart."

"I brought myself to this place and worked so hard to settle myself into it that I had forgotten I could even leave," he said with a sad chuckle. "Two years is a long time to be alone. You can send all the letters in the world, and it's still not the same," he said, but despite his words his sad smile started to grow in strength.

"I won't ask you to wait that long to see me again," he said firmly, his tone carrying the note of a promise. "Two weeks. Wait two weeks, and I'll never make you wait again."

Twilight closed her eyes and took a deep breath, steadying herself before she nodded. "Alright," she said quietly, recognizing that vow for what it was. She hugged him tightly then, and didn't show any signs of letting him go. "Then at least stay with me tonight."

Gearrick rubbed her back comfortingly, smiling as he looked past her, to the horizon beyond the river. "It won't be the last time I do," he said warmly.

Twilight was quiet as she lay in the queen-sized bed of her hotel room, wrapped in Gearrick's forelegs and facing away from him. The hazy moonlight streamed in through the half-closed curtains, painting one silvery streak across the bed, casting hers and Gearrick's intertwined shadows across the bed where they seemed to drop over the edge, like a waterfall of darkness in the stream of light.

She let her eyes focus on those shadows for a short while, mindlessly becoming absorbed in them and thinking of nothing for a few moments, just listening to the rhythmic breathing of her companion. She had tried to go to sleep, but it simply wouldn't come. There were still things on her mind.

Despite sleeping together, and the tense knowledge of her departure the next night, nothing had happened that shouldn't have happened. Neither of them had approached that topic, for Twilight feared what she might say after her slip-up earlier by the river. Gearrick had left it alone after that, for which she was grateful. She didn't want this night to be awkward, and for her those thoughts were still very much so. They would be for some time, but just laying next to him and being with him felt right. Gearrick respected her too much to ask for anything more, or turn it into something it shouldn't be so soon in their relationship.

They'd stayed up for a time, sometimes talking, sometimes saying nothing and just holding each other, sharing a kiss now and then when the timing felt right. Gearrick was asleep behind her now, and, despite the fact that she herself couldn't sleep, she didn't want to wake him. He was going to have a big day tomorrow, a day that might decide his future much more than he was letting on. Besides that, this was the first time in three nights that he had slept on anything remotely comfortable, so she didn't want to disturb him.

She was nervous about tomorrow, though not because of the contest. Even though he had promised, she didn't want to leave. After everything that had happened in Manehattan, her time with Gearrick felt like months, not just days. She knew he was right, that a week wasn't enough time for him to move in with her in Ponyville, even if it was only temporary until he found his own place there.

She hadn't meant for it to be temporary, she knew. She had been hoping he would say yes, that he would stay in the library with her and never get his own house. She knew how impractical that idea was, knew how wrong it should have seemed, but that didn't make her want it any less. The days living with him in his home and waking up with him there were some of the best moments of her life. She wanted them all over again, wanted to feel that every day.

She had wanted it so badly that she had even caught herself hoping he wouldn't win the contest, now that he was back in it. Hoping he wouldn't have enough bits to buy a house and would have to live with her. Then she could have explained it to anypony, and gotten what she wanted...

She knew that was wrong, though. No matter how badly she wanted it, it wasn't time yet. She knew that now, after sitting awake quietly and thinking about it for so long. Hardly anything else was on her mind besides the fact that she would have to leave tomorrow morning.

He had promised, though. Two weeks would seem like a very long time while he was away from her, but she understood that he needed time to see his friends and family that he hadn't seen face to face in years and straighten some things in his life out. It wasn't fair for her to try and cage him so soon again after he was finally free of the grip Manehattan had held on his dreams and aspirations.

She rolled over carefully, the blankets turning with her slightly as she maneuvered herself to face him. He didn't stir, his forelegs still wrapped loosely around her shoulders. She smiled to herself, a bittersweet thing, as she looked over him. Eyes closed, breathing slowly, every breath out twitching her coat with warm air. Two weeks would seem like a very long time.

She placed her front hooves on his chest between them and kissed him lightly on the lips, finally closing her eyes as she laid back down, safe in his embrace. "This is worth the wait," she whispered, before yawning and finally drifting into slumber.

Gearrick sat in his chair on the stage, in front of countless ponies, just as he had done the previous year. In this last portion of the contest the four finalists arranged their machines in front of the stage and sat with the judges atop it. From here they would deliver their sales pitches one by one, until at last the voting commenced and the judges tallied all of the submitted 'purchase orders'.

An honorary place had been left for Gearrick's device directly in front of the podium, and he couldn't help but feel as if it was less 'honorary' than the Mayor and his fellow judges had intended. If anything it only outlined the truth even more to all in attendance: the Nomad really had been destroyed. Gearrick sighed out the corner of his mouth as if to say 'oh well', and let it go. A lot of things were stacked against him, but he did have one lucky star in the sky.

Because he had won the previous year, the rules required that he go last for his pitch. That would help to keep him from being overwhelmingly overshadowed by the other contestants' speeches, and for that much he was grateful. He and Twilight had arrived early to the square, ensuring a good seat for her in this last leg of the festival. As the day had gone on and the time approached for the opening that day, he had been amazed to note that hardly any of the ponies who should have gone home because of the festival's extension had done so. In fact, it seemed as if there were actually more of them.

He wondered if news had gotten out about the guild fiasco and attracted extra viewers. If so, he would probably be unable to sell the Nomad on premise alone to those who had come after everything had gone wrong. They never would have seen it, and so he would have to hope that his pitch, a speech he had not prepared in the slightest, would be enough to do the job.

His surprise had been unparalleled when, before the ceremonies began, the crowd had parted, giving some very unexpected ponies the chance to take the front row: Celestia, Mick Magnet, and Myla Trellon. Those three ponies had taken up seats next to a smugly smiling Twilight Sparkle, Mick still in hoof-cuffs and an orange inmate's jacket, though he seemed not to pay these things any mind. The old guild-master had given nothing but a smirk in response to Gearrick's slackjawed, shocked face.

As eleven o'clock neared, the fourth finalist was wrapping up his pitch, to plenty of applause from the crowd. Gearrick had to admit that their speeches had been quite convincing, and some various actions run by their machines in the process had certainly helped their image. It was impossible for him to pick up much of anything from the crowd's mutterings during speeches, or to pick anything out of the raucous applause when they concluded. However, if he had to venture a guess on his own, he would have begrudgingly admitted that his chances did not seem grand.

He noticed something strange for the fourth time that day: as the stallion who had built the cloud-powered generator left the stand he fixed Gearrick with a small smile, the same as each of the other finalists had done. Gearrick was shocked out of his repeated confusion when the spokesmare amplified her voice in preparation for announcing his turn.

"Ladies and gentlecolts, it's time for our final pitch! Please listen carefully until the end of it before applauding, so that you don't miss anything," she said, her tone level as always while she delivered the same warning about premature applause that she had already given four times prior. Without anything else said, she left the stand and gave Gearrick a warm smile, standing by to amplify his voice.

With one final preparatory sigh he rose out of his seat and headed for the podium. He had never felt so nervous in his entire life, had never had so much riding on so little. He steeled his nerves step by step until, at last, he was standing in front of the podium. He closed his eyes and took one deep breath, before opening them and seeking out Twilight in the front row. She gave him a wide, encouraging smile, and he felt as if his nerves were as steady as they would ever be.

He opened his mouth to speak, but was immediately cut off by a shout in the crowd, somewhere in the second or third row. "We'll take two!" came the unmistakable, six-year-old shout of Fixxit, drawing a massive wave of laughter from the crowd and scattered applause.

"Sorry, bud, but you have to be at least eighteen to put in a purchase order," Gearrick chuckled, honestly thankful for the incredibly unorthodox start to his speech. The crowd erupted into laughter once more, easing his worries before he continued into the bulk of his pitch at last.

"Ladies and gents, I'm sorry to say that there won't be any demonstration to go along with this pitch... As you've probably all heard, the Nomad is no longer operational." He said it all without any hint of remorse whatsoever, carefully noting various nods in the crowd that seemed to be coupled with curious expressions in most every case. People had obviously been expecting that delivery with a much more sorrowful note, but Gearrick didn't want to play on their pity.

"Anything worth buying is worth building," Gearrick said loudly, nodding his head just once as he spoke this classic tinker's motto, one most people in the crowd had heard at least once. "What does that say about something that's worth building again? Ladies and gents, the Nomad is gone but not dead. It's more than a machine," he said quietly.

"I don't have any blueprints. I don't have a degree. I don't have any tools, or bits, or a shop," he said sternly, making it clear that he understood those marks against him. "I may never be able to build it the same way again, but that won't stop me. Because what I have is a dream, and you can't unbolt that from my mind, or burn it out of my heart. My invention could be destroyed a hundred times, and I would make a hundred more, each one better than the last, because I will not give up!" he shouted, slamming a hoof down on the podium.

He paused and then sighed, trying to level his tone back out and get back into it, but he could tell that he had their attention because of the way he was letting his emotions drive his words; just like he let his emotions drive his tinkering. "They say a machine is like its maker," he went on, his tone more controlled now. "I know it's true, because looking back I see why I built the Nomad. I had been denied dreams, been through some hard times. I thought, at first, that I had built it for revenge. To rub it in someone's face," Gearrick continued, giving Mick Magnet a small smile, which the old criminal was mirroring.

"I understand so much better now. It couldn't have been built for revenge, because revenge is a fragile thing and the Nomad was sturdy," he said surely, and he was glad to hear some murmurs of assent in the crowd. "I built the Nomad for a much better reason: I had someplace I wanted to be in life. Somewhere I was going, but I wasn't sure I could make it there. That's what the Nomad was built for, what it reflected. That machine could take you anywhere and overcome any obstacle, and I wanted that more than anything. That was my dream... to have something that would make me free to go where I wanted," he said warmly, his voice full of passion as he looked out over the sea of faces.

"Sometimes life is an adventure that you can't just walk through. Sometimes you have to sail, or climb, or go faster than your legs can carry you," he paused for effect, chuckling before he continued, "and sometimes you have to fly, to get where you're going." The crowd laughed a little at this, understanding the reference to the wings he had daringly tested a year ago.

"It can take you new places, this dream of mine. You can see the world, every inch of it, behind the wheel of a Nomad. It can take you everywhere from the store down the street... to your girl's doorstep, whole cities away," he added quietly, sparing a warm smile and a glance for Twilight, pleased to see tears starting to well in her eyes when he mentioned her, though few in the crowd would know who his words were for.

"I'm not here to sell you a machine," Gearrick continued. "I'm here to tell you about a dream I had once... and to tell you that you can all have it, too." He took his hooves off the podium and settled on all fours again, stepping back to signal his speech was completed. "All you have to do is want it, and I'll make it real again."

There was a moment of absolute silence at first as Gearrick looked out over the crowd. It was like looking into a thunderstorm, and waiting for the rumble you knew was in there to come rushing out. Their cheers exploded all at once, overwhelming anything else he could have hoped to say, but their enthusiasm had rendered him speechless anyways. The stage was shaking under his hooves, and he could feel the roars of the crowd in his chest. It was a constant symphony of astonishment and enjoyment, playing just for him and his shattered invention.

Nobody in the entire crowd was cheering quite like Twilight as he looked at her, letting out a few small laughs that he couldn't even hear because of what he saw. Her eyes were closed to maximize her shouting capacity, but that didn't stop him from seeing the tears perched in their corners. He closed his own eyes and sighed in satisfaction; whatever came of the contest, even if he didn't win, he could at least know that this was what people though of his dream.

It faded at last, slowly, as the Mayor took the stand rather than the spokesmare. "Ladies and gentlecolts," Mayor Malter warbled, his fat cheeks bouncing with each word. "It is that time of the year once again, at long last! Time for you to place your orders, and decide which of these wondrous tinkers, with their magnificent inventions, will be declared the winner!"

Several ponies on the edge of the square began pushing out small carts with what appeared to be typewriters on them. However, upon closer inspection it was clear that the machines each had only four buttons, with a paper tag above each listing the names of the finalists. On the table next to each machine was a small, wooden box, out of which popped a fifth button and two wires: a hasty modification to the voting devices that allowed for anypony who felt the drive to vote for Gearrick to do so.

"Form lines and begin the voting! We will reconvene here at three o'clock to announce the results!" the Mayor announced loudly, and immediately the crowd began to move towards the many voting machines, forming lines in front of them that grew so long they eventually all converged back into one great mass of ponies in the center of the square.

Gearrick made his way down from the stage and over to Twilight, who was already launching into a flying hug.

"Your pitch was great!" she congratulated, kissing him on the cheek.

"A bit unorthodox," Mick Magnet put in, standing nearby. "But very effective. Nothing in the rules says you can't pitch a concept to sell your invention. Well played, Mr. Tinkermane," he said, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Myla glanced between Twilight and Gearrick as the purple unicorn kissed him on the cheek, looking very badly as if she wanted to say something about it. However, she managed to refrain, and finally smiled instead. "I always knew you had a way with words," she gushed, giving him a wink which caused him to blush nervously until he realized that he was in the clear, and that Twilight hadn't seen it.

"After hearing the other pitches, it's not hard for me to guess who will win," Princess Celestia said, giving Gearrick a sly look. "I've stood in front of my fair share of cheering crowds, so I can tell when the people like something."

"And who would the winner be, then?" Gearrick asked, giving her a cautious look.

"I can't tell you that, that would be cheating," the Princess chuckled, bringing a smile to Gearrick's face.

"Not bad, my boy," Mayor Malter huffed, making his way down the stage steps. "You could sell water to fish, I should think," he chuckled. "I've been at this long enough to say I have a good feeling about your odds."

"Thank you, sir," Gearrick said, turning back to face him and Brass Tacks as they made their way down to square level.

"Yeah, not bad... for a two bit tinker," Tacks chuckled, grabbing Gearrick in a headlock and rubbing the top of his head roughly.

"Hey, I'm worth at least six bits," Gearrick grumbled, pushing against her foreleg until he popped free at last. It turned into an unexpected hug, though, as his mentor threw her forelegs back around him.

"I'm proud of you," she said quietly, giving him a gentle squeeze.

"Thanks, Tacks," Gearrick said, hugging her back.

"You know, the voting lines are only getting longer..." Mick said idly, pretending not to pay attention to the remainder of the congratulation party.

"That's alright, I think I can get us to the front of a line somewhere," Celestia said with a sly smile, already heading for one of the voting stands. "We'll be done and out in time for lunch."

"Isn't that abuse of power?" Gearrick asked, raising an inquiring eyebrow.

Celestia just smiled and continued on her way. "If you want to wait in a line for two hours, that's your choice," she half sang.

Unable to deny her logic, Gearrick and the rest of the ragtag band followed close behind.

It was three o'clock at last, and the square was again filled to bursting with ponies. The voting had been finished by two, and the judges had worked furiously to tally the totals from each of the many voting machines around the square. Twilight sat in her place directly in front of the stage, the Princess next to her. As the Mayor took the stand and prepared to announce the results, Twilight looked to Celestia for reassurance. It was in those next moment's that Gearrick's livelihood, and his hopes of resurrecting the Nomad, would be decided.

The Princess only offered her a warm smile in return, and that had to be enough.

"Ladies and gentlecolts... the results of the Twelfth Annual Steamtech Festival!" Mayor Malter bellowed, drawing a pall of silence over the entire crowd. However, the Mayor stepped away from the podium and gave the spot to Brass Tacks, who was holding a small envelop. She popped it open and cleared her throat, standing on the tips of her back hooves to be able to see the crowd over the podium.

"Fifth place this year goes to Silver Bolt and his Cloud-powered Generator, with a total of six-thousand seven-hundred and eighty two votes," she concluded, waiting as the mentioned engineer stood and took a bow, to loud whistles and applause from the crowd.

"Fourth place goes to Green Gear and his Water Detection and Drilling Device, with a total of six-thousand nine-hundred and forty seven votes." Again the crowd erupted into applause while the indicated stallion took his bow.

Twilight waited in suspense as the third tinker was announced, and let out a sigh of relief. Her eyes darted between the remaining tinker and Gearrick. Neither one of them seemed nervous, though Twilight made up for both of them in the next few moments until, before Brass Tacks had even begun to speak, the remaining tinker sitting next to Gearrick rose from his seat.

Brass Tacks, who hadn't noticed his rise behind her on the stage, confirmed his self-proclaimed placement while everyone listened in silence, staring at the calmly-smiling, second-place engineer. The crowd applauded him more loudly than anyone so far... the stallion who had built the lifting machine.

The same tinker who had not so long ago called Gearrick a worthless engineer moved to stand in front of him. Just stood there, smiling, as Gearrick stared at him dumbfounded. His eyes widened as the stallion said something Twilight couldn't hear, and offered him a hoof to help him from his seat.

Brass Tacks, who had turned back to watch the exchange, was smiling as Gearrick stood and the other tinker seated himself. She turned back to the crowd, who was barely waiting respectfully to hear her announcement.

"And in first place, with a total of nine-thousand four-hundred and ninety-one votes... Gearrick Tinkermane, and the Nomad!" she declared loudly, and her words were like the trigger being pulled on the loaded gun that was the crowd. Twilight practically flew off the ground as she pumped a hoof in the air and shouted just like everyone else.

On stage, assaulted with riotous cheers for the second time that day, Gearrick didn't have anything at all to say as he clenched his eyes against the happy tears threatening to overwhelm him, and took his bow.

Twilight stood on the train platform, looking down the same street she had been so eager to explore only a little more than a week ago. It felt so much longer than that, yet the way the view looked, identical to her first glimpse of the city, took all sense of time away. The lights danced exactly the same way against the Veil and the billions of water drops clinging to everything. The air was warm, humid, and the moon could hardly be seen through the great cloud overhead.

Only one thing was different as she took it all in for a second time; right in the middle of it all stood a stallion she loved, smiling as if nothing were wrong. This was the last train out of town, departing at midnight and driving all night to Ponyville. Celestia, Tacks, Mick, and Myla had all taken earlier trains, and Gearrick had bid them all farewell together with Twilight.

Now she was the only one left to say goodbye to.

She wanted so badly to say something, but her voice was caught in her throat as she looked at him standing there. He would have looked like a normal pony to anyone else, but to her he looked like a hero. Her knight, her jester, her prince... the stallion who had made her laugh and cry, come to her rescue, and treated her like a queen for every second he had known her. Every last second, without wasting a single one... and she was going to say goodbye to that.

"You scared?" Gearrick asked quietly, his smile never faltering.

Twilight nodded, unable to deny it. The idea of leaving, of going back home and being alone again, no matter for how long, frightened her somewhat. Not the fear of something dangerous, or even something irrational, but the fear of returning to a world less bright than the one she had gotten used to in such a short time.

"Don't be," he said warmly, as if he were consoling a child who was afraid of the dark; the tone of someone who wasn't afraid, lending comfort to someone terrified. Twilight liked that analogy, because she felt just that way: a frightened little filly. "You're a strong mare, Twilight. A patient mare, a brilliant one... It might take a little time for me to get there, but there's no way I could keep myself from you." He gave her a loving smile, and offered a hoof to her.

She smiled, tears in her eyes as she took it and let him pull her into an embrace. She closed her eyes and nuzzled him close, but opened them again as she felt something drop onto her head. She pulled away from Gearrick, looking up and trying to decipher what was there before she pulled it off and smiled, turning the item over in her hooves. She stopped abruptly, looping Gearrick's welding goggles over her head, and letting them hang around her neck, just like he had always done.

"I'll be there soon," he said quietly, and for the first time ever she could hear his mask of strength beginning to fade, a hint of sadness in his voice. "I just wanted you to have a souvenir for your trip." He smiled as he ran a hoof gently down her neck until he reached the goggles. "At least until I can get you a better one."

"Well, you know what I like," Twilight replied, trying her best to joke through her wavering voice. "It shouldn't be too hard to come up with something," she finished, putting a hoof over his on her chest.

She gasped as Gearrick swept her into a rough embrace, hugging her tightly. She could feel all of the tension in his forelegs that was missing from his expression and his voice. She hugged him back as he let out a sigh behind her.

"I won't lose you again," he said quietly, his hug loosening slightly. "I won't leave you. Sometimes I'll ask you to wait, and sometimes I won't be ready... but no matter what, I will always come to find you," he whispered.

Twilight couldn't help herself as she pulled away and kissed him deeply. She didn't even realize she was crying as she kissed him then, and wouldn't have cared if she had. The intercom overhead rang out for the last call to board the train, but it was only so much background noise in the echo of his loving words playing over and over in her mind. It was the most important promise anyone had ever made to her. She dropped her head back onto his shoulder when the kiss was through, not wanting to let him go.

"You'd better get going," Gearrick finished, clearing his throat afterwards. Twilight could feel him wiping away tears behind her back, and smiled gently. "Otherwise I'll be stuck with you another night," he joked, his voice gaining strength again as he laughed and pulled away from her.

"You're right, you'd like that too much," she joked back, her own tone still weakened by the various emotions surging through her. She sighed and closed her eyes, knowing that unless she did she never would have been able to turn around. She headed for the train doors and passed through, standing in the car and already feeling as if she was in the wrong place. She looked over her shoulder and saw all the encouragement she needed in Gearrick's streetlamp-lit smirk.

"Goodbye, Twilight. I love you," he said simply.

Twilight just smiled at him, as the train doors closed behind her. "I love you, too."

She watched his smirk fade through the window, drifting further and further away until he was just a shadow on the lit platform behind her. A shadow making its way back into the city, that beautiful rainbow-clad star that grew small and smaller as the minutes dragged on, before finally vanishing beyond the bend in the railroad tracks.

Epilogue: Built to Last

Twilight sighed as she dropped her quill, rubbing at her tired eyes before pulling her hooves away and staring at the library ceiling. The flames of the candles in the chandelier overhead flickered now and again as a cool nighttime breeze drifted in through her bedroom window on the floor above. She didn't move her head as she took a lazy, upside-down glance at the wall clock behind her, confirming that it was exactly as late as it had felt.

She yawned and sat herself back up, knowing she wasn't done yet with her work. Three piles of paper were neatly separated on the table in front of her, one of them showing the tell-tale folds of letters recently peeled out of their envelopes, the empty husks of which littered the floor behind the table where they had been thoughtlessly discarded and left to be cleaned up in the morning.

Despite how tired she was, Twilight smiled as she laid a gentle hoof on the pile of received letters; letters back and forth from her friends and family all over Equestria. It had been a great undertaking, sending all of those missives to the ponies she couldn't meet face-to-face in Ponyville anymore and explaining what had happened to her on her great adventure only a week before.

She smiled as she pulled out one of her favorites, reading it again.

Twi,

You don't have to thank me for anything, sugar. After hearing everything that happened to you, I reckon it would have happened all the same way even if I hadn't said anything at all that night. It sounds like this fella and yourself were meant to find each other. Still, I'm glad I could be of some help, even if only a little bit.

Anyways, I wish I could make it to Ponyville like the rest of the gals, but I just can't seem to get away from all this wedding business. Why, for the love of apples, it has to be such a damned big affair I will never know. Still, it'll all be over and done with next weekend, and I'll be a married mare... dang, that feels strange to write.

That reminds me; make sure you bring your fella to the wedding. If I can't be there to meet him when he shows up, then I want to meet him here. After everything you've had to say, I ain't waiting a day longer to see him for myself than I have to. Aurus would love to meet him too, I'm sure, so don't take no for an answer. If he doesn't want to come, you tie him up and drag him along... some fellas need that sort of treatment.

I can't wait to see you all at the wedding, this Tinkermane fella included!

Love,

AJ

Twilight smiled as she set the letter back down on top of the pile, even allowing herself a small giggle. So many things about that letter in particular warmed her heart. The most amusing thing about it was how strange it looked; without all the 'sugar' and 'reckoning', Twilight would hardly be able to tell it was from AJ at all. The writing seemed abnormally proper, and she couldn't help but laugh, knowing it would have sounded much different than it looked if read aloud by her orange friend. Just as amusing was her imagining of Gearrick's reaction when he learned he was 'invited' to the wedding, something he had likely completely forgotten about, since it had only ever been mentioned in passing.

Her smile shrank slightly as she rested her hoof atop the pile of letters, her giggles dying out. Of all the messages she now had in her collection, there was one missing that she desired most of all. Even after a full week apart, she still had no word from Gearrick. She knew that if he were going to send something, he would have already done it, and it bothered her. Aside from his words when they parted ways, she had no way of knowing when he would arrive. Two weeks could mean anything in that little pile of days; anytime, on any train.

Despite all of the unknowns, Twilight hadn't let thoughts of doubt creep up on her. He had promised, and she knew he would be there, one way or another. She had taken it upon herself to rally her friends early, and invite them all back to Ponyville to meet him, no matter when he showed up. He would get a Pinkie Pie party when he arrived, or Twilight would die trying. She wanted him to feel welcome in Ponyville, like he never had in Manehattan. She wanted this to be the place he would come to and never want to leave again.

Her smile returned as she grabbed another blank sheet of paper, the quill floating in her magic aura once more. There was still work to be done before all of her plans were ready.

Twilight sighed to steady her nerves as she watched the train enter the station, standing with only ponies that were departing for company. She had done this many times already, and had long since given up any thoughts of dragging her friends along with her. Even she had learned the futility of attempting to catch each and every train that entered Ponyville station. After the first two days she had tossed it to fate.

This occasion, however, was different. This evening train was the last one in or out of Ponyville until morning the following day, when the promised two weeks would be past.

She caught her front hooves kneading the pavement in worry, though she had done her best to assure herself this would be the one. She knew her fear that he would not be on this train was pointless. He had gone so far and done so much to assure her that he would come, even before he had made such a promise aloud. The train's whistle sounded to announce it had come to a complete stop, startling her from her inner dialogue and drawing her eyes to the boarding doors of the many passenger cars, with ponies packed around them waiting for their chance to get on board and make themselves comfortable for the long evening ride ahead.

The station attendants slid the doors open, the stream of disembarking ponies pouring out almost instantly, as if the door had indeed been holding them back. She shifted her eyes between the many doors frantically for a moment, before she placed a hoof to the welding goggles around her neck, granting her a modicum of calm. She had made a habit of it lately, using that quiet, silent attachment to her missing lover to get her through the stressful times and lonely thoughts of the last few days.

She waited as patiently as she could will herself to as the ponies filtering off the train began to dwindle. Soon it seemed as if ponies were boarding as often as they were departing, and Twilight began to worry, her touch on the goggles around her neck growing more and more firm as her fear began to build. She hadn't seen the shock of reddish brown mane, or the pearl white blade of his smirk cutting through the crowd. No familiar laugh, no warm and wonderful voice.

She sighed in defeat as she dropped her hoof from the welding goggles, closing her eyes for a moment to try and compose herself.

"You should see the look on your face," came a quiet, distant string of banter, sailing on the wings of a familiar inflection and deep, teasing tone. Hoofsteps grew nearer as her ears perked up and she turned to look further down the platform, her heart soaring at last out of the veil of worry.

He looked just like she had dreamed for the past many nights, standing there and smirking in the sunset. He had a great many things thrown over his shoulders and across his back, and though it was clearly heavy he stood tall and gave her a sly wink as a widening smile grew on her face.

Twilight couldn't help herself as she broke into a run, her eager smile growing step by step. Gearrick only had enough time to drop his bags on the platform before he swept her up into a warm embrace, using her own momentum to swing her in a wide circle over his luggage and back around again, pulling her close as she at last came to a stop. No sooner had she stopped than he kissed her deeply, practically holding her up as she stood on the tips of her hooves to deepen the kiss in whatever small way she could.

Twilight took deep breaths as she rested her head on his shoulder, recovering slowly from her enthusiastic sprint into her lover's embrace, and the passionate kiss that had left her equally breathless. She closed her eyes as she felt his embrace around her shoulders tighten, the two of them propped against one another on just their back legs. A light kiss atop her head, barely felt through her mane, brought a smile to her face as her breathing grew more subtle.

"I missed you, Gearrick" she sighed into his coat, giving him a tighter squeeze in their ongoing hug. She didn't want to pull away from him just yet, even if it might only be for a few seconds or only a few inches away. Any distance was too far and any time too long just then.

Everything about it was better than her dreams. She could clearly feel his warmth, the beating of his heart in his chest, and take in the scent she had come to associate with him: a pleasant one subtly laced with the tang of metal and the strange smell of grease that would never quite come out, as if those things were just a part of him. All of those things seemed so simple, but in her dreams they had been little more than vague feelings her subconscious had done its best to replicate, all to no avail.

It was finally real again, and she was not letting go until she absolutely had to.

"I missed you too, Twilight," he replied quietly, his tone warm and gentle as he stroked her mane. "It's been a long two weeks, but-" he began, only to be cut off.

"I know," she said, pulling back just far enough to tip her nose up and look into his eyes, never pulling her cheek from his shoulder. "You had things you had to do."

"That's true, but it's not what I was going to say," Gearrick replied with a chuckle, fixing her with a look that playfully warned her to be patient and listen. Twilight managed it through the shroud of her curiosity, and so he continued. "I was going to say that it's the last two weeks you'll ever have to wait."

"What do you mean?" Twilight asked, her excitement growing as Gearrick backed away from her politely, setting her back on all fours as he turned to his luggage. From the mess of bags he pulled a large rectangular object, wrapped in cloth to protect it.

"Do you remember what I promised you? That if you waited two weeks, I wouldn't make you wait again?" he asked with a small smile, keeping his eyes on her as he tucked the thin, cloth-covered object under a foreleg and leaned on it idly. "I wasn't just being dramatic, though I know I can be from time to time."

"I did have things to do," he said quietly, his expression shifting from his fun-loving, humorous smirk into a warm and loving expression that set Twilight's heart to beating faster. "But almost all of the things I had to do were to keep that promise to you."

"I had to visit my parents... to tell them I wouldn't be coming home, even after all the trouble in Manehattan. They couldn't have been more understanding when I explained why. I went to see Tacks again, because I needed some advice if I was going to follow in her hoofsteps here in Ponyville."

Twilight's breath was caught as she began to realize what it was he was getting at.

"And I had to spend several days, and every last bit of my winnings from the contest, doing the most important thing of all," he said quietly, pulling the object in front of him and unwrapping it gently in front of Twilight's widening eyes.

To anypony else it would look like nothing more than a shop sign. To Twilight, it looked like the perfect embodiment of his promise to her: a simple piece of wood, saying nothing more than 'Gearrick's Gadgets’, which represented so much more than anyone would know.

"I'm going to set up shop. Here. In Ponyville, with you," he said warmly, unable to deny a quiet laugh as Twilight put a hoof to her mouth in disbelief, tears welling her eyes. "I don't need a guild, or contests, or anything else. I just want a place where I can work on my dreams. All of them... and especially the ones with you in them," he finished, giving her a wink.

Twilight laughed behind her hoof, still pressed to her lips as if to try and contain the outburst of happiness that would otherwise completely engulf her. Her happy laughter started out as a few staggered, uncertain giggles before, finally, she could not control it anymore. She couldn't see anything through the blur of her happy tears, but she knew that Gearrick was holding her again as her imagined sense of weightlessness became all too real.

"You're going to stay..." she whispered quietly, still sounding as if she couldn't believe it.

"But I'll have to live with you for a while... shops don't build themselves overnight," he replied with a chuckle.

Twilight grabbed the sides of his head and pulled him to her, kissing him roughly, deeply. "Stay as long as you like," she whispered happily, kissing him lightly once more on the lips, as if in apology for her sudden, fiery moment of passion.

"Welcome home."

"Ha!" Rainbow Dash cried victoriously, pointing across the library's bottom floor to the third in a line of seven cider casks situated atop one of the many tables that had been hastily erected just for the welcoming party. Dangling from the cask's spigot was a lone chocolate doughnut with rainbow sprinkles, slowly waving back and forth from the momentum of its landing only moments before. The crowd of ponies that had moved out of the way to create the throwing lane for the game applauded her loudly for a fantastic toss, many of the more sober ponies laughing at the sheer and undisguised inebriation of the players and a good portion of their adoring fans.

"Nobody beats team 'Pie Dash'!" Rainbow shouted, sticking a wavering hoof in Gearrick's face.

"I thought it was team 'Pink Rainbow'," Gearrick chuckled, very nearly tipping over backwards as he struggled to focus on something so close to his nose. He was grateful when Rainbow Dash toppled from holding her poorly-balanced gloating pose for too long, saving him the trouble of falling himself.

"That's stupid," she muttered from the floor. "If something's pink, how can it be a rainbow?" she asked, huffing as she pushed herself back up off the floor.

"Good point," Gearrick conceded, turning his attention back to the casks of cider that seemed really, really far away. There were only seven of them there, and the name of the game was to land four doughnuts on the spigots before the opposing team could do so. But, after missing his last two shots in a row at the same peg Rainbow had just scored, his confidence was not exactly brimming.

"What's the matter?" Rainbow taunted, clearly not at all concerned with how her falling over might have impacted her social image in the face of her overwhelming success at Cider Peg. "Afraid you can't make it?"

"I'm just worried you'll tip over again when I do, because you'll have to drink," he retorted with a smirk. With the taunting pushing him past whatever part of him remained sober enough to instill doubt, Gearrick grabbed his chosen doughnut.

"Pffffthbpt," Rainbow spat, rolling her eyes. "Alright then, hot shot, let's see it."

Gearrick raised his doughnut, eying his target, the last remaining peg, through the hole in its center. He waved it back and forth, trying to get a feel for its weight before he finally let fly. Every doughnut was different, so gauging his toss was paramount to his efforts of drowning Rainbow Dash in cider.

At last he could feel it on his swing forward, the universe in perfect alignment for his throw. He hadn't the sobriety left to ignore instinct as the nerves in his foreleg told him that all of the factors were right, and that this was the toss of destiny. Without warning he let fly, and it soared as majestically as a doughnut could through the air, as if in slow motion, heading on a dead line for the last peg of the game.

Everyone observing watched breathlessly as the treat hit the front of the cask flat, killing the majority of its rebound momentum. The doughnut fell, the hole aligning perfectly with the top of the spigot, where it caught fast and remained hanging, like some prized trophy on a wall, announcing his victory to the world. Cheers erupted as Gearrick pumped a hoof in the air and Rainbow stared, dumbfounded, at the doughnut of her demise.

"Drink!" Gearrick roared, shoving a mug of cider into her hooves.

"Yeah, drink!" Pinkie cried excitedly, clutching a mug of her own in preparation for the drink of defeat and not seeming at all upset by the loss.

"Whose team are you on?" Rainbow asked with a scowl, before she dropped the act and cracked a smile. "Fair's fair," she conceded, upending the cider mug and draining it in one go. Pinkie quickly followed suit, tipping her mug so far up that she eventually fell over backwards.

"Nice shooting, Derpy," Gearrick congratulated his cross-eyed partner, extending a hoof to her. She didn't seem to know how to locate it at first, but finally her eyes uncrossed enough to give her a clear shot.

"You too, Mr. Twilight's Boyfriend!" she said excitedly, shaking his hoof in long, lazy ups and downs. "I've never beaten anypony at Cider Peg before! You're really good at this game!"

That she had never won before didn't surprise Gearrick overly much, considering he had made three of their four pegs, and the one that Derpy made had definitely felt like an accident at the time, what with the way it had bounced off of the chandelier.

"Beginner's luck," Gearrick said with a laugh, extracting his hoof politely from her grasp, though her own leg continued to wave up and down as if she hadn't noticed. "Alright, so" he cried loudly, looking around the crowd with the narrowed eyes of a predator, "who wants to take on the winning team?"

Twilight giggled as Rainbow and Pinkie stumbled their way over away from the Cider Peg staging area, leaving Gearrick and Derpy to take on any one of a hundred teams shouting that they had the next game.

"Well, he's good at Cider Peg," Rainbow admitted, before Twilight had even said anything.

"Did you see Derpy's shot?" Pinkie asked, skidding to a stop on her stomach as her latest bounce attempt failed miserably.

"When I said I wanted you girls to get to know him, that's not what I meant," Twilight said with a sigh, rolling her eyes. She, like the rest of her friends, had a solid level of intoxication running now that the party was drawing later into the evening.

"Well it's not like I can challenge him to a race," Rainbow said in exasperation, clearly not getting the direction Twilight had been going for. "How else am I supposed to get to know him?"

"You could try just talking to him," Twilight muttered into her cider mug, taking a sip.

"We talked plenty when we were kicking each other's butts," she declared with a wave of her hoof, as if that should have been obvious.

"You were just trash-talking each other," Twilight retorted with a raised eyebrow.

"Trust me, I got to know him pretty well from all that," Rainbow said with a chuckle. "Trash-talk is the language of competitors. You can always tell when somepony means it and is being uncool, and when they're playing along and having a good time. It's a really good way to gauge the quality of the ponies you're competing against, because they expose part of their personality. That's the part I'm interested in the most," she concluded, shrugging her shoulders as if it was no big deal. "He's a good guy; I'd fly with him any day... if he had wings."

"Wow, Rainbow... That's pretty deep for you," Twilight said in honest surprise, setting her mug aside in mild shock.

"What? I'm deep all the time. You just can't tell, because you're always busy being dazzled by my awesomeness," she said, flaring her wings and putting her front hooves on her hips.

"And she's back," Rarity sighed, sipping on her margarita.

"Well, what about you, Pinkie?" Twilight asked, giving up on Rainbow at long last.

"He's hard to surprise," Pinkie said, putting a hoof to her chin in thought and trying to look pensive. Her best efforts weren't good enough as, inevitably, she zoned out and her eyes slowly began to cross, focusing on the end of her nose.

"Pinkie...?" Twilight asked, waving a hoof in her face.

"But that just means I'll have to try harder to surprise him!" she concluded abruptly, as if she hadn't tuned out in the first place.

"Yes, but what do you think of him?" Twilight growled her question, slapping a hoof to her face.

"Oh, he's great!" Pinkie replied excitedly. "I like his sense of humor, and he knows a lot of words I've never heard of, just like you do, and he has great taste when it comes to sweets, even though all the sweets I make taste great, and..."

"Fluttershy?" Twilight asked, deciding it might be best to just ignore Pinkie Pie, who was now so far into her light-speed rambling that there was no point in listening further. Twilight got the gist after the first few seconds.

"I like him," she giggled, wavering uncertainly in her sitting position on the floor. "He's nice."

"Are... you okay?" Twilight asked, raising an eyebrow in concern.

"I like him," she reiterated again, hiccupping suddenly and giggling at the sound she just made while swatting at the floor to try and catch herself as she abruptly lost her balance. "I like the... things," she explained vaguely, pushing herself back up slowly and then patting her cheeks to indicate the scars on his jaw. "And I like the way his mane is all... poof," she continued, pushing her own mane out to try and demonstrate what she couldn't figure out words for. "Oh, and he doesn't yell, even when Rainbow is picking on him. That's nice," she finished, giggling to herself. "He's nice."

"Okay..." Twilight said, stretching the word in slight confusion, until she decided just to assume that all of that was good news. "Rarity, please tell me you're still normal?"

"Never am, dear," Rarity said simply, as if that should have been obvious. But the smirk she was wearing told Twilight that she was still sober enough to tease, and that was a good start.

"Well?" Twilight asked, knowing that she would get the straightest answer out of her friend with the highest standards.

"He's a little rough around the edges," Rarity began, her tone turned up just the right way to signal the beginning of a list. "But he has a certain way of speaking and carrying himself that proves he's not as rough as he looks, what with his mane all... poof," she explained, widening her eyes and gesturing to her own mane, like Fluttershy had done only moments ago, wringing a giggle out of Twilight.

"But what I can tell more than anything is that he's madly in love with you," Rarity continued, gesturing with her margarita glass in the direction of the game of Cider Peg, where Gearrick was sneaking a look back at Twilight. "He's a clever stallion, and they're the most dangerous... but so are clever mares," she said with a small laugh. "I'd heard enough about him to write a romance novel before he even got here-" she went on, but Twilight interjected suddenly.

"Sorry about that, by the way" she muttered, blushing hot as she reflected on just how much she had really written in her letters to her friends.

"Don't be," Rarity chided, waving her concern away. "After all, it all turned out to be true. He really is as wonderful as you said he would be. It doesn't take a genius to tell that the two of you are perfect for each other," she said idly, as if it was just obvious. "All of my concern that you had stumbled into some fling on vacation was totally off-base," she admitted, finishing her margarita.

"So, you like him?" Twilight asked hopefully.

"It wouldn't matter if I didn't, since you love him so much," Rarity said slyly, giving Twilight a knowing glance. "But yes, I like him just fine."

"Good," Twilight sighed in relief, happy to hear that her friends, or at least most of them, approved.

"Why so worried?" Rarity asked, messing with the little umbrella in her empty glass.

"Well... he's going to be living with me for a while," Twilight admitted slowly.

Rarity dropped her tiny umbrella abruptly, whirling on Twilight with her eyes sparkling and her teeth showing in a wide, gossip-hound grin. "Really? Oh, how scandalous!" she cooed, putting her hooves together in front of her chest and shivering in excitement.

"I-it is not!" Twilight stammered, blushing hotly. "It's perfectly normal for mares my age to live with their boyfriends... right?" she asked quietly, practically begging for support. "Besides, it's only until his place finishes construction-"

"Which could take months," Rarity pointed out with a sly wink.

"Rarity!" Twilight groaned, her tone half accusing and half pleading her to stop.

"Alright, alright," she laughed, patting the air to calm Twilight down. "I'm just teasing. You don't have to convince anypony, Twilight, least of all your friends. If he's good enough for you, he's good enough for us," she finished warmly, giving Twilight a sure smile.

"Thanks," Twilight sighed, glad to have the teasing over and done with.

"And don't worry, I'm sure Applejack will love him," Rarity said with a small smile.

Twilight couldn't help but smile. "Oh, I know she will."

Gearrick took the seat that rose out of the floor with mild confusion. He had met with Aurus and Applejack many times since their wedding a few days ago, but this time it was different. This was no casual dinner or evening of drinking. This time it seemed almost too formal, with only Aurus and Gearrick in the study that afternoon.

"I'm glad you came," Aurus said with a warm smile, sitting at his desk within easy speaking distance. "I know we haven't been friends long, but it still means a great deal to me."

Gearrick shrugged, too confused by the strange feeling he was getting about this meeting to respond any other way at first. "Why wouldn't I? Fast friends are friends all the same, right?"

"Too true," Aurus chuckled, easing some of the tension Gearrick was feeling. "Still, I'm certain you're curious about why I'd want to talk to you, gan-zet-gan," he continued, using the changeling phrase for 'one-on-one'.

Gearrick just nodded, unable to shake the feeling that Aurus was looking through him, not just at him.

"I have a favor I want to ask of you," he stated simply, giving Gearrick a calming smile. "One I would not trust anyone else with, I'm afraid."

"A favor?" Gearrick asked in disbelief. Him, to do a favor for a king? Gearrick let out a half-laugh of disbelief, and shook his head. "I highly doubt you don't have anyone else you can trust for this favor, whatever it is."

"I never said I didn't," Aurus said slyly. "I only said I wouldn't trust anyone but you with this task."

Gearrick found himself out-worded for once, and unable to come up with a counter. "What could a king possibly want from me?" he asked seriously.

"Innovation," Aurus replied simply. When Gearrick fixed him with a curious expression, he simply smiled and continued. "I have worked for many years to make the changeling nation a strong force in this world, and it will take many more before I can truly say I have succeeded. I want what is best for my people in all things."

"Your nation has steamtech, a force equal in many ways to magic. The gryphons have what they call stormtech, and this, too, is a force to be reckoned with. Even the diamond dogs, disjointed as they are, have a common form of technology which they rely on, though none can say for sure how it works. But my people have no such thing," he finished evenly. "We have never needed technology for ourselves. You could probably say that we never will, because of the nature of our magic."

"But that isn't the point," he continued. "Or rather, it should not be. I am not interested in technology for the good that it would bring to T'rahk Enox. I am interested in technology for the good that it could bring to the entire world. I would like to research a way to make a new form of technology... one that does not rely on wind or lightning, like gryphon technology, or on coal like your steamtech engines; a form of technology that the entire world can use, without exception."

"An alternative energy solution..." Gearrick muttered, following the discussion as only a scientist could. "I can understand where you're coming from; it's why steamtech was separated from magitech in Equestria in the first place. We wanted to put technology in the hooves of the common pony, where before only unicorns could benefit from it."

"But there's always a limiting factor in technology: the power source. Even if you take away the dependency on magic, there's a dependency on something else," Gearrick continued. "If you could find a better power source than coal or magic, something that sustained itself, then you could do exactly what you want, but that kind of energy doesn't exist," Gearrick said, shaking his head the more he thought on it.

"It does," Aurus replied simply.

Gearrick shot the king a skeptical look, and sighed. "Alright, I'll bite. What energy could possibly be that renewable, that globally available?"

"Mine," Aurus said with a small smile.

"What?" Gearrick asked, dumbstruck by the answer.

Aurus didn't answer, simply pulled open a drawer in his desk and withdrew an item from within, setting it atop the polished stone surface and sliding it towards Gearrick gently. It seemed to be little more than a simple, steel ingot. A commodity found in any smithy, except for one minor detail. Gearrick picked the block of metal up, turning it over and looking at the symbol glowing on its surface.

"What is this?" he asked quietly, eying the glowing green lines of energy painting the face of the steel ingot.

"The energy source that your Equestrian scientists have been dreaming of for ages. A simple changeling rune that turns magical energy into electricity," Aurus concluded quietly.

"No different from a magitech turbine," Gearrick replied skeptically, though his tone showed he suspected there was more to it than that.

"Not quite. That steel bar will generate its own electricity. Even with no unicorn or changeling to actively fuel it, it will supply power. Changeling magic is a very different thing from unicorn magic," Aurus explained. "Eventually that rune will run out of energy, of course, but the steel bar will never expire. If one could simply recharge the rune..." Aurus trailed off, allowing Gearrick to pick up his train of thought.

"You would have a wasteless, renewable fuel source," Gearrick whispered, amazed. His amazement immediately turned into skepticism though, his scientific training preventing him from admitting so easily that something this impossible could be done. "And how will the runes be recharged? If they run out, how will ponies and changelings be able to rely on them? Where does the energy for these... these mana batteries even come from?" he asked, gesturing about with the bar in his hoof vaguely.

"From my body," Aurus said quietly, folding his hooves in front of himself on the desktop.

"You're kidding," Gearrick asked with a chuckle, sincerely believing the king was joking.

"I'm afraid not," Aurus said with a light, though empty, chuckle of his own. "I have more magical energy than you can imagine, Gearrick. More than anyone knows I have, and far, far more than I can control," he said with a sigh. "Control was never my strong suit. Every single day I have to expel magical energy in incredible amounts, just to keep from endangering myself and those around me."

"My body has reached the limit of its adaptive potential," he continued, fixing Gearrick with a serious stare, locking the tinker's gaze tight and sending a shiver down his spine. "I can't contain the magic that threatens to overwhelm me every day of my life forever, and slowly it is eating me alive," he whispered quietly.

Gearrick found himself unable to reply, for he couldn't think of anything to say in light of such a dark revelation.

"I do what I can to vent the energy and keep myself healthy, but it is such a waste," he whispered quietly. "If I must remove this energy to save my life, then it should improve the lives of others." His tone was stern, and his gaze unwavering, unafraid of the hoof fate had dealt him. "In the end, no matter what I do, this power will cut my life in half," he said gravely. "I want to do enough with the time I have to make up for the years I will never get to see."

"So you'll dump it into these mana batteries, and spread it across the world, putting technology in the hooves, claws, and paws of everyone," Gearrick said quietly, understanding now that not only was the goal possible, but it was also necessary. If what Aurus said was true, then these mana batteries would usher in an all new technological revolution.

And extend the king's life by many years.

"What do you want me to do?" Gearrick asked, looking away from the king and back at the steel bar in his hooves.

"I want you to lead the charge," Aurus said simply. "I want you to explore the potential behind these mana batteries and become the first pioneer in runetech. Twilight speaks very highly of you, and I know a good stallion when I see one," he said with a calm smile. "I want you to learn all that you can, adapt this power into technology the world can use, and to teach it to others. I want you to help me change the world."

"I'm not cut out to be a teacher," Gearrick replied quietly, though his words lacked the tone of a refusal.

"I was never cut out to be a king," Aurus replied warmly, his tone encouraging. "I don't expect you to become a professor, or start a university... When the time comes, those tasks will fall to the creatures who have been inspired by you. I am only asking you to do what you do best," Aurus said quietly. "I am asking you to create something from a dream."

Gearrick stared quietly at the iron ingot in his hooves for many moments, his brow creased in thought. He rubbed a hoof along its gleaming surface, and then sighed heavily; the sigh of a stallion who had made up his mind, for better or for worse.

"I'm going to need a lot more of these."

Gearrick smiled as he drove the nail home, pounding it flush with the crossbeam that ran along the outside of his shop. It was the last nail the shop needed: the one that would proudly hold the sign in place above the door for all to see. Applause rang out behind him from his many neighbors and friends in Ponyville, not the least among them the world-renowned King Aurus and Queen Applejack, who had come just for the grand opening and the open house that afternoon.

"Ladies and gents," Gearrick called out, throwing his foreleg around Twilight's shoulders as he dropped off the last rung of the ladder, "Gearrick's Gadgets is officially open for business!"

The excited applause gave way to a few scattered whistles and cheers, while Twilight planted a warm kiss on his cheek. It had taken four long months to finish the shop, complicated as it was. Twilight had often said that the place suited him even before it had been completed, sometimes even with a few nails poking out of her gritted teeth as she helped him with the construction.

Brass and copper piping was as visible outside the shop as in, all intricately angled and grouped to give the shop an elegant mechanical look in addition to the various functions all the wiring and piping served inside. The top floor was the living area, complete with the master bedroom, a small guest room, bathroom, and a little something inspired from his old, shoddy warehouse in Manehattan: the living room.

It was a cozy place, small because of all the other rooms piled into the top floor, with little more than a couch and nightstand for furniture. But what made the room truly feel like home was the west wall, made completely of sturdy windows that gave anyone inside a wonderful view of Everfree's edge, and Lone Peak far beyond. Of course, it would never have been complete without the hanging metalwork sculptures and the collections of colored glass shards that threw dazzling specks of color everywhere.

The lower level of the shop was little more than a storage room, a small kitchen, and the main garage, lined wall to wall with workbenches and racks for tools and parts in progress. It was absolutely everything Gearrick had dreamed of, and more.

"Well, who wants to see the place?" he asked, waving the hammer over his shoulder. It didn't take long for ponies to start pouring in, admiring the work of Gearrick, Twilight, and many of their own contributions. The entire town had helped to build this place at one point or another, and everypony was eager to see it in its completed state at long last.

Gearrick smiled as he gazed out the living room windows, sitting on the couch with his foreleg around Twilight as ponies came and went, complimenting them often on a job well done and wishing them the best in their new home.

"So this is what home feels like," he whispered, kissing the top of Twilight's head gently as she leaned into him.

"We couldn't ask for a better one," she agreed, smiling as she kissed him on the jaw, the easiest spot to reach in their comfortable embrace on the sofa.

Both of them had given up living in the library only a week before, when they had at last moved in all of the new furniture and other things that Gearrick had bought with his earnings as the world's first runetech tinker. He had started small, building simple projects on the library's tiny table whenever he wasn't working on the shop across town. He'd made great strides in learning how to use the mana batteries and build around them, and had improved many lives in small towns around Equestria with various appliances, all made more affordable without the need for a city-wide power grid or complex steam pressure systems. Compact, efficient, and cheap, runetech was becoming a popular option for anypony who had heard of it.

"Well, we can be comfortable later," Gearrick grunted, giving Twilight a gentle push to right her on the couch and free himself of her leaning. "Right now I suppose we should be starting the housewarming party."

"Don't say that too loud," Twilight chuckled, stretching as she got to her hooves. "Pinkie might hear you."

Gearrick yawned as he stumbled down the stairs, heading for the gentle pounding on his front door. He pulled it open slowly with one eye pinched shut against the morning light that came streaming through, granting him a blurry vision of the blonde mane and the grey hoof that was descending for another knock, despite the door being open. Gearrick dodged the hoof with practiced ease, both eyes coming shut as he yawned widely once more, blinking away the resulting tears.

"Good morning, Derpy," he greeted quietly, giving her a small smile before he spared a quick glance behind him at the clock by the stairs. "You're earlier today than usual," he half-grumbled, still not fully over being woken up so early while Twilight got to sleep in.

"That's because I have a priority delivery!" came the excited, muffled reply from inside the mail bag thrown over her shoulder as she promptly buried her face in it, searching for the mentioned item.

"Priority?" Gearrick asked, confused. He hadn't ordered any parts for fast shipping, and even if he had they would have come in a cart later on in the day, not in the tiny mail bag.

"Here it is!" the mailmare sang happily, the tune clear but the words muffled slightly because of the strings in her mouth that held the brown-wrapped box aloft. "Delivery for Mr. Twilight's Boyfriend, on schedule!" she declared as Gearrick grabbed the box with his magic, setting it down inside the door behind him.

"It's Gearrick," he reminded the mailmare casually, an exchange that felt automatic after months of practice.

"Sign here," she chimed happily, ignoring him completely, as usual, and sticking the clipboard and pen out to him.

Gearrick sighed and scribbled his signature on the shipping notice, passing the items back to Derpy.

"Thanks very much! Have a nice day!" Derpy called happily, waving over her shoulder before she galloped down the short walkway to the shop and launched into the air, off to deliver more mail with an ungodly level of cheer.

"You too," he called back lazily, sidling back inside and grabbing the package from the floor. "That girl likes her job way too damned much," he sighed to himself, setting the package on the counter in the kitchen while he fished around blindly in the refrigerator for something to curb the grumbling in his stomach, which was exceptionally vicious for having been woken up many hours earlier than expected.

Munching on a leftover sandwich, he finally turned his attention to the small, brown box. He scanned the shipping label idly until he noticed something strange: the package had no return address.

His curiosity piqued, Gearrick quickly untied the strings that held the brown wrapping paper in place, and popped the box open. Inside was what appeared to be a leather journal, with a letter atop it.

Puzzled, Gearrick pulled the book out and turned it front and back. It had no title on either side of the worn brown leather cover. Figuring that the letter would probably explain better than skimming through the book, Gearrick tore the envelope open and began to read. It didn't take him long before his eyes widened and scanned the page more frantically, taking everything in.

Mr. Tinkermane,

After one long year I am sure that this package comes as a surprise to you. I'm sorry to be sending you this without warning, but I'm afraid it can't be helped. I've been very busy during my time in prison, and I just wanted you to know that I have not been wasting the time I've been given.

I used my privileges from good behavior to get access to materials from the Royal Canterlot Library for research. This time I didn't work towards a technological endeavor, but rather a personal one. I have much left to atone for, but with the completion of this research at long last, I hope I am one step closer to being a better stallion.

After months of ceaseless study and speculation, I believe I have found a way to return Myla and Phyla to normal. If I have learned anything in the course of researching their fate, and reflecting on my own, it is that chaos has no god. In the end, chaos and suffering can only come to those who invite it. So, it can only be undone by the same creatures who welcomed it once.

The journal will explain everything. I would test my theory myself, if only I could. Instead, I'm asking you to do what I can't, and perform this experiment in my place.

Regards,

Mick Magnet

Gearrick tossed the letter into the box, snatching up the journal once more. His tiredness from before was gone, replaced with an eager hopefulness. While it was true that the twin mares had hardly been friends to Gearrick and Twilight, their misfortune was still a dark mark in Gearrick's life, however minor. In his hooves he held the possibility to right a wrong created years ago that not even the Elements of Harmony could undo.

Scowling in determination, Gearrick pulled up a chair to the small table, flipping through the journal. At first the pages were filled with simple musings, clearly made before Mick had gained access to his research materials. Slowly the theories began to take more form, touched up with revelations from historical accounts of Discord's rule and the effects of his chaotic magic. The hours passed, and the pages began to show numbers and formulas, most of which had been scribbled out and reworked many times.

It was ten o'clock when Gearrick had reached a strange portion of the journal. The equations and formulas suddenly stopped, giving way to a series of blank pages. Gearrick paused in concern, trying to recall everything he had read about the twin's history, any of the previous formulas or speculations. Yet, no matter what he remembered, nothing came down to a firm, conclusive action. The experiment he was to perform wasn't listed in the journal at all.

Puzzled and slightly alarmed, Gearrick checked inside the box, looking for a second journal. There wasn't one, and so he turned his attention again to the blank pages at the back, turning through them. They remained blank until the very last page. On the paper before him was a sketched chessboard, drawn with all the precision of a professional mechanical drafter. The board was blank, with no pieces to show any kind of arrangement.

However, beneath it were listed two columns of instructions, the items numbered carefully. Each listed item was a move for either the black player or the white, designating the piece and the destination coordinates on the board's grid.

Gearrick leapt from his chair and rushed into the neighboring garage, throwing open drawers and tossing various nuts and bolts into a tin can on one of the workbenches. Hoofsteps sounded on the stairs behind him as a very groggy Twilight Sparkle came down to check out all the ruckus.

"What's going on?" she yawned, looking at Gearrick in concern.

"I got a package from Mick Magnet this morning," Gearrick replied hastily, eying two bolts before he added them to the collection building in the tin can.

"Magnet?" Twilight asked, the name and his tone sobering her up a little bit. "What for?"

"He says he knows how to fix Myla and Phyla," Gearrick explained, rushing back into the kitchen with his tin can full of small bolts, screws, washers, and nuts.

Twilight trotted in after him, still not fully awake. "You're serious?" she asked, looming over him as he dumped the tin can over the journal, arranging the tiny mechanical parts into the likeness of the pieces atop the board drawn on the last page.

Twilight watched quietly as Gearrick concentrated, following the instructions to the letter. Pieces flew around the board and off it as they were taken, Gearrick's eyes never leaving the lists of instructions, lest he lose his place. The board seemed to be on automatic as the game played out under his copper magic glow.

At last he finished the final move, and Twilight gasped behind him, drawing his attention to the board.

Gearrick's face broke into a small smile, a disbelieving chuckle escaping his lips. "Mick... you're a genius."

Myla Trellon kneaded her hooves nervously for a moment before she stepped into the shop, looking around. There was no mistaking that this was the place, address or no address. "Hello?" she called loudly. Normally the shop bell would have rung as she entered, but the door was thrown wide to let the warm breeze of an early autumn afternoon sail through, leaving the signal silent.

"Welcome to Gearrick's Gadgets," came a familiar female call from further within the shop, along with a bang and a curse. "How can we help you-" Twilight began, rounding the corner from the hallway that led to the stairs. She went speechless when she noticed who it was at first, and then a smile slowly started to form on her face.

Myla didn't seem as surprised, or quite as comfortable, with the encounter, kneading her hooves once more. "Hello, Twilight," she greeted quietly, her tone nervous.

"Hello Myla," Twilight returned, her tone casual. For Twilight, this was an expected visit with a mare she had long since forgiven. "It's been a long time," she said quietly.

"More than a year, now," Myla replied, gaining some confidence in the meeting since it didn't seem that Twilight housed any outward resentment. The two had been tolerable together at the end of everything in Manehattan, but after a year apart, the black mare had been afraid to face Twilight again, complex as her emotions were surrounding the lavender unicorn. She had been nervous that those jealous feelings she had against Twilight, and Twilight's against her, would resurface because of their poor past and sudden parting.

"Don't be so nervous," Twilight said warmly, giving Myla a calm smile. "We invited you, after all. We just want to help you."

A short silence followed as Myla struggled to find what to say, and to arrange her various, overwhelming emotions. "Is it true?" she asked quietly, deciding to focus on her trepidation, the strongest emotion of all at that moment. "Will Mick's plan really work?"

"Well, every plan Mick ever tried to involve Gearrick in before now ended up failing miserably..." Twilight began to tease, but she stopped when she noticed Myla wince. "Mick knows what he's doing," Twilight said encouragingly, drawing a gentle nod from Myla. "Gearrick and I have both talked about this... With what we know about you, we believe that it will really work. You and your sister can live normal lives again."

Tears started to well in Myla's eyes as she nodded, unable to speak as she was overwhelmed with hopeful happiness. That strong emotion ruled her completely for a time until she turned around, facing back outside and trying to calm herself down. Twilight waited patiently until at last she was ready.

"Come with me," Twilight said warmly, leading the way into the kitchen, where Gearrick was washing his hooves. His face, however, was still streaked with grease and soot from his labors in the garage, though it didn't dim the wide smile that slipped onto his face as Myla followed in behind Twilight.

"Hey, Myla... Glad you came," Gearrick said pleasantly, clearly just as at-ease with everything in the past as Twilight.

Despite having resolved as best she could that Gearrick was off-limits, Myla couldn't help a happy blush as Gearrick mentioned he was glad to see her, particularly in such a warm tone. "Good to see you, too," she muttered back, afraid that if she spoke up too loudly her emotions would force her tone to turn into something Twilight wouldn't like.

"Are you ready?" Gearrick asked encouragingly.

Myla just nodded, still blushing and not really making eye contact. Her eyes darted to him every once in a while, but then skipped away again as if she had to keep yanking control of her eyes back by force.

"Then I need to speak to your sister," Gearrick said simply.

Myla wasn't able to fight her emotions at that point, and they swept over her as she locked her eyes on Gearrick. "Don't you like me better?" she pouted, her desire for Gearrick quickly twisting his request to speak to Phyla into jealous thoughts.

"Myla, stop," Gearrick warned her calmly, sounding as if he had been well prepared for something like this from the beginning. "I like you just fine, but this is supposed to be about turning you and Phyla back to normal, right?"

"Right..." Myla mumbled, turning around so she couldn't see Gearrick anymore and clenching her eyes shut just as an extra safety measure. She took several deep breaths to steady her nerves and fight the urge to turn back around and either flirt with him, or yell at Twilight. Then, at last, she delved into that divide between herself and her sister, her body going stiff and turning grey, the eyes behind the closed lids shifting to an empty black.

It didn't take long for the coat to change again, white with a few scattered black spots, the eyes shifting to a deep blue and coming only half open, the trademark of her blank and unwavering expression. She turned back around to face Gearrick and Twilight, both of whom were smiling, though not nearly as warmly as they had been for Myla.

"Good afternoon," Phyla greeted flatly, her eyes shifting from Gearrick to Twilight, and then back again.

"Afternoon," Gearrick replied with a sigh, having forgotten just how unpleasant speaking with the cold and emotionless mare could be. "Myla explained everything, right?"

"Yes," Phyla replied simply.

"And you're going to go along with Mick's plan?" Gearrick inquired, his tone cautious.

Phyla was silent for several seconds, looking at neither of them. This was the closest either had seen the hard-logic pony come to indecision. "Yes," Phyla said quietly. "Being empty is an easy life. Simple, logical, sensible," she explained. "It should be enough. But I want to be able to love my sister again, like she loves me," she finished evenly. "I want to be able to understand her again."

"Then I need you to memorize something," Gearrick said, passing her the journal, which was turned to the last page.

She read through the instructions idly, before snapping the book shut. "I see," she whispered, and for once Gearrick thought he heard just the faintest trace of excitement. "It never would have occurred to me."

"You know what to do, then?" Gearrick asked hopefully.

"Yes."

Myla made the moves her sister called out to her without question, trying to look far enough ahead at the board to understand where Mick's directions were taking them. It looked terribly like she was losing, and she was down to only a couple of pawns and her king. Phyla was likewise out of pieces, minus those select few, yet Myla knew from experience that her sister could work wonders with hardly anything on the table.

"Remain calm," Phyla cautioned her, seeing the tension building in her shoulders. "I am not going to make you lose."

"Then why are we playing?" Myla asked, terribly confused and scared. She had been the only one left out of the loop, because her emotions were a liability to the plan from the very beginning, and it made her nervous.

"Do you remember what Discord said to us, when we made our mistake?" Phyla asked calmly, moving her piece. "Move your pawn here," she added flatly, pointing to a black square directly in front of her own king.

"I remember..." Myla said quietly, moving her pawn into a place it was obviously going to get taken. "He said that if we won, we could continue to fight, but if we lost he would prove we were both right..."

"Yes," Phyla replied quietly, taking the pawn as planned. "Right about each other. Mick's plan revolved around that part of our story," she explained, gesturing for Myla to move her king to a new position.

"I don't understand," Myla began, moving as she was bade to do.

"We wanted to fight each other, to prove only one of us or the other was right. And even though we lost to Discord, we never stopped fighting each other. We thought that Discord had proven us both right by turning us into what we have become," she explained, moving her pawn in to be sacrificed, just as Myla had done only two turns past.

"But we continued to fight, and never admitted that the other was right. He made it harder for us to understand each other, impossible even." The moves continued to flow on the board as Phyla spoke, gesturing now and then to guide her sister.

"In the end, he never did prove we were both right," Phyla said darkly, moving her last pawn in front of Myla's lonely king. "It wasn't what he meant when he said it."

Myla took the offered pawn, looking at the board with nothing but their two kings left standing, a situation in which neither one of them could ever win over the other. She gasped as the realization came over her, and watched in amazement as both kings toppled of their own accord, the board cracking down the middle. The crack spread across the room, climbing the walls and even the ceiling.

"All we had to do to escape, and win this game, was to stop fighting," Phyla explained quietly.

Myla never had the chance to reply as the room blasted apart into a thousand shards, flinging her far away from her sister.

Gearrick and Twilight shielded their eyes from the blazing form of Myla and Phyla's empty, grey shell as it burst into red and black flames. A fierce wind sprung from the twins' body, twisting the flames around them into distinct tendrils, as well as turning the kitchen into a tiny maelstrom. Objects flew around on the harsh gusts that shifted constantly, smashing plates against walls and jamming forks into cabinet doors.

Twilight threw up a barrier around her and Gearrick, neither of them willing to leave in light of Mick's clear success. His strategy had done something, but whether it had saved the twins or not was too early to tell.

The grey body started to glow gently, half white and half black, the red tendrils swirling around them slowly, as if waiting. Soon the halves of the body showed no signs of overlap, not a speck of grey light showing between the black and the white. Without warning the tendrils raced in, latching on to the form. Where a red tendril struck the white body it became white as well, black ones following suit.

Slowly the limbs of flame began to bend and twist, pulling the halves apart slowly. Twilight found herself unable to look, fearing that the twin mares were being destroyed, pulled slowly in half in their agonizing final moments. Gearrick, however, mustered his courage and watched, refusing to believe that it would end in such a way, and prodded Twilight's shoulder suddenly as something spectacular began to happen.

As the halves came apart, new halves joined with them. Slowly but surely, a white pony and a black pony, fully whole, were emerging from what had once been the one as they were pulled further and further apart.

The wind died suddenly, and the tendrils of flame snuffed out. The glows surrounding the two bodies faded gently, revealing both Myla's and Phyla's separate forms standing together on the kitchen floor, their eyes closed tightly, their bodies stiff like the grey one had been when between owners.

Gearrick and Twilight looked to one another, speechless, before a sound drew their attention back to the mares. Both let out a low groan, like someone waking from a fevered sleep, each putting a hoof to their head like perfect mirrors of one another. Their eyes drifted open at last and Gearrick and Twilight let out sighs of relief, followed by excited and victorious laughter.

"It worked!" Twilight cried ecstatically, throwing her forelegs around Gearrick's neck and hopping up and down on her back hooves while he held her steady.

The two sisters looked to the rejoicing couple at first. Then slowly, as if finally realizing what Twilight was celebrating so loudly, they began to turn towards one another. They gasped in unison as they looked upon each other in the real world for the first time in six long years. They reached out to each other, touching hooves gently and confirming for themselves that they were really both there.

It all broke loose suddenly, the two mares bursting into tears and running to each other, sweeping themselves into a sisterly embrace. They just hugged each other and cried for a time, squeezing tightly and drenching one another's shoulders in tears until, at last, one of them found their voice, speaking in gasps between joyous downpours. "Phyla, you're... you're crying!" Myla shouted happily, pulling away and looking into her sister's tear-stained face.

Phyla gasped suddenly, putting her front hooves to her face and patting all over until they both covered her mouth in disbelief, her eyes wide with shock. The tears that had momentarily been held back by disbelief now resumed full tilt, the embrace becoming one sided as Phyla cried around the hooves at her mouth and Myla hugged her tight.

"What about you?" Phyla sniffed, finally finding her voice.

"I... I don't know," Myla replied, clearly confused. It was kind of hard to tell if her raging emotions had been cured or not, in light of the sudden passion she felt seeing her sister again.

"Well, why don't you come give me a kiss and find out?" Gearrick asked suddenly, smirking and drawing a cautious look from Twilight.

"I'd love to, but you have a girlfriend, and-" Myla began, until she gasped, eyes wide as she realized she had just turned down a kiss from the stallion who had been a burning passion of hers for the last six years.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Phyla cried, surprising them all as she dashed across the kitchen and tackled Gearrick in a sudden hug, kissing him square on the mouth.

Twilight and Myla were both speechless as they looked from the kiss, to one another, and then back again, mouths hanging open in undisguised shock.

Twilight sighed contentedly as she looked at the pictures that had been delivered that morning, holding each one up in front of her as she lay on her back atop the bed. She shifted through them, each one a picture of the twins and something they had been up to over the summer. It had almost been a year since the Trellon sisters had been saved from their chaotic, inner hell. Since then they had become good friends and regular writers to Twilight, sending a letter and a package once a month full of pictures. Nopony had been more eager than Phyla to go across the world and experience all the things she had missed in her emotionless, six-year span.

She rolled over onto her stomach, setting the pictures in an album she had bought just for the twins, placing it with her magic on the shelf, next to a photo album of Aurus' and Applejack's baby boy, Archon. It, too, was receiving regular updates, since AJ sent pictures anytime the boy did anything remotely interesting.

Things had been going well over the last year or so. It was quiet in Ponyville for Twilight, especially on weekends like these when Gearrick was dragged away on business for out-of-town repairs, or to the recently established International Technology Institute to deliver his latest findings and designs for runetech. It hadn't taken the new institute long to grow into an amazing thing, with creatures all over the world rushing to discuss their individual technologies and gain an education in one of the many branches of engineering.

Slowly but surely, as Aurus had planned, all of the nations were beginning to edge towards runetech for their daily technological needs, and Gearrick was turning quite the profit as the world's chief mastermind of the fledgling science. It was still a young field though, barely two years old, and so there was still much work to be done. Still, it had its share of students, not to mention practiced steam and storm tinkers switching their focus to the mastery of runetech. It had made lives easier, now offering mana batteries in different shapes and sizes for varying pieces of machinery based on Gearrick's research, making it possible to design even small things that would run on their own.

Twilight stretched, flopping back on the bed as she stared at the ceiling. It didn't bother her that he had to travel to do the work he did from time to time. Most days he was with her in Ponyville, just like he had promised, and that was enough. The young couple had grown together more and more, always working with each other, whether it was simple housework or building new parts for the Nomad II.

She sat up abruptly as the sound of the shop bell reached her ears, promising her that he was finally home from his weekend trip to Manehattan, though she had been expecting him on an earlier train. Still, she knew it had to be him, since the summer sunset promised it was well past the shop's hours.

She smiled to herself as she waited patiently, listening to the sounds of his traveling bag hitting a workbench somewhere, and the metallic clink of a loving pat he bestowed on the Nomad II's half-built hull. At last came the expected call. "Twilight? You home?" he asked.

"I'm upstairs," she called back, shifting herself around on the bed and striking an alluring pose as she heard his hoofsteps start up the stairs.

Gearrick's already present smile widened as he caught sight of her on the bed, clearly teasing him. He let out two low whistles, closing the bedroom door slowly behind him. "Is this how you're going to start welcoming me home?" he asked, hopefully, making his way over to the bed. "Because I could get used to it," he huffed, rolling onto the bed from his standing position and wrapping her in a tight embrace.

Twilight giggled as he planted a gentle kiss on her neck, and then another on her lips. She took that kiss and deepened it slowly, teasingly, as she had done many times before. Without fail, as had always happened, Gearrick fell for it, trapped in the undeniable pull of her passionate kiss.

"I could get used to it too," she admitted when at last it was over, her hooves wrapped loosely behind his neck, resting her head on his shoulder as she always did. "How was your trip?"

"Lonely," he sighed, running a hoof down her side, and then along her back leg gently, "and boring."

"As usual," she hummed, enjoying the feeling of his touch after two long days apart. "What did they want to see you for, anyways? Didn't you just go there two weeks ago for something?" she asked, letting her tone take on a note of false annoyance.

"Yes, but this one wasn't for business really," he explained quietly, turning away from her and reaching down by the bedside suddenly.

"So you left me all weekend for a few nights of fun in the city?" she asked, giving him a scowl that he never saw as he was facing away from her. Still, she knew that he could tell what face she was making, even if he couldn't see it.

"Well, it's a good place to meet wonderful mares," he teased, coming back up and facing her, holding a bag she hadn't noticed him walk in with.

Twilight wasn't able to keep up her act of annoyance as he offered her the indirect compliment. The bag, however, piqued her curiosity. "What's that?"

"Just something I had the guild holding for me," he said slyly, baiting her with his tone.

Twilight reached for the bag, and Gearrick tugged it away playfully. When she reached for it more aggressively, he rolled over. Before long it was a full-on keep away, the couple laughing as they tossed the bed to pieces. Eventually, though, it came to an abrupt stop.

"Ow, ow, ow," Gearrick hissed, his right eye clenched shut against the pain as Twilight held his right ear in her teeth, biting gently, tugging on the strap to the bag all the while.

"Gimme th' bag," she mumbled around his ear, keeping him pinned.

"Alright, alright, you win," he chuckled, letting go. The nibble at his ear vanished immediately as Twilight sat up, clutching her prize excitedly. He'd often brought her presents when he went places, and this wasn't the first time they'd played this game.

Twilight popped the latch on the leather bag, smiling happily as she fished around inside. Her happy smile shifted to a confused scowl as she pulled out not one, but two pairs of welding goggles. One was a brand new pair with golden rims and red lenses, just like the ones Gearrick always seemed to wear. The other, pair, however, was unfamiliar to Twilight. They were rimmed in silver metal, with deep purple lenses.

Twilight looked between the pairs, growing suspicious as she noticed their quality. The golden metal on Gearrick's pair wasn't brass... it was actually gold, and the other pair was real silver. As she looked more closely, she noticed words etched in the metal frames, reading carefully.

"Twilight Tinkermane," she read aloud off the silver goggles, her voice barely a whisper as she finally realized what was going on. She whirled on Gearrick, her mouth hanging open and the goggles clutched in her hooves.

"It's got a nice ring to it, doesn't it?" he asked quietly, pushing under her chin and moving her jaw shut as he sat up to join her. "Will you marry me?" he asked seriously, his smile and hazel eyes drawing her in.

Twilight didn't know what to say at first. Tears started to well in her eyes and, finding that words would still not come, she simply dropped the goggles and grabbed Gearrick's face, pulling him into a rough kiss. She kissed him over and over, whispering her answer in the sparse moment she took to breathe. "Yes..."

The two of them fell back on the bed, the goggles forgotten as their passion built past anything either one of them had ever felt before.

Twilight stopped their kiss suddenly, propping herself up on his chest as she lay atop him looking deep into his eyes.

"Engagement goggles, though? Really?" she asked skeptically, her tone teasing.

"Really," Gearrick replied with a chuckle, pulling her back down into the kiss.

Author's Notes: Because Tradition

It's that time again. The time where I finish a story, and talk about how I totally finished the story. If you're a repeat reader of mine, you probably know exactly where this AN stuff is going to go, because I do it every single time. All both times before now, and I don't plan on stopping. If you don't like it, you can leave. Or you can stay and read some funny shit, because normally I find an interesting way to tell you stuff you probably already know about myself or this story.

Anyways, gonna follow the usual format, with interesting topic headers. Here we go.

PLOT STUFF YOU PROBABLY ALREADY KNEW BUT I'M GOING TO EXPLAIN ANYWAYS

No sense beating around the bush when I can't just beat you over the head with my header, if you know what I mean. As always, I'm not going to cover every little bit about the plot, but will focus on the parts that I particularly enjoyed and explain myself a little bit as to why I may have done a few things the way I did. Don't expect spoilers for later Visionary fics, I won't give them to you. (Aurus gets a fancy hat in Opposite Day.)

Starting from the very, very beginning, the story needed to be born from Twilight's perspective as the girl we all know and love becoming a young adult, and facing the emotional crisis every nerd brings upon themselves: trying to figure out what the hell to do with relationships. Rather than using Rarity for relationship advice (because I already did that in Visionary) I decided to use Applejack, who I thought made a spectacular candidate due to her honest nature. Not to mention a little bit of irony for you all to enjoy if you read Visionary, since Applejack didn't know shit about relationships in that story.

Obviously that was supposed to remain the underlying focus of the story, and so reasonably it got pushed to the background. However, I decided to bury the topic immediately following Twilight's conversation with AJ because it seemed like something Twilight would do. So, with her priorities way out of whack, but a new one at least introduced, off I sent her to Manehattan, city of lights and really neat drunk people.

No sense wasting any time, I introduced the love interest immediately, but decided not to name him or even really touch on him until the next chapter. No real reason for it, other than I thought it fit the setup well enough, and it helped to further make Gearrick into the initially mysterious character he needed to be to really cash in on Twilight's natural curiosity. From there the romance did what it did, going nice and slow at certain point, and then abnormally, awkwardly fast at others. Intentionally so, because this is how a relationship behaves when neither party knows what the hell they're doing and can't make up their god damned minds.

The romance kept doing this thing where it would jump to the foreground, then become the background for a while, and just cycle through, constantly trading places with the other plot arc: all the stuff with the Gearbox Guild. I thought it was a nice touch personally, if a bit cliche, that something bad was surrounding Gearrick way before Twilight even laid eyes on him, and that it kept on growing and growing until it finally swept Twilight up, too. Made all the better, of course, because nobody knew who Twilight was, really.

The best part is, that wasn't even intentional. Aside from Gearrick, who's naturally clueless about world events and famous people, Twilight only ever mentions her last name to the hotel staff pony, meaning there are literally only two ponies who know her name until Gearrick mentions it to Mick and everything goes to shit. It turned into a nice, usable plot point for me all on its own, and that just tickles me effing pink.

I'd talk more about the Mick and Myla/Phyla stuff, but there's a character section for that, so instead I'm going to talk about mech suits. Yes, I admit openly to making up a ton of shit in regards to mechanics and the properties of electricity, sound, the whole works. I shamelessly modified real-world facts and theories to suit my purposes so that in the end I could give everyone, myself included, what they really came here to see: two geniuses duking it out in badass power armor. And a cool car. So don't bitch.

Moving on, I had to create that conflict with Gearrick possibly going to jail. Yes it was cheesy, and probably uncalled for, but it served a very important purpose on both a large scale and a small scale, for my universe. One, it gave Twilight a reason to admit her feelings to other people and to have the chance to save Gearrick instead of the other way around, which the story pretty badly needed to remain stable. That's the small scale.

Two, it introduced a more detailed view of Equestrian politics, specifically the justice system. I don't know if any of you have noticed, but both Visionary and Wings of Courage, my only other two fics in the universe, currently, had heavy political themes. I couldn't let Tinkermane escape that trend either, and so I used the opportunity to touch upon the fact that Equestria is not some happy go lucky "fix it with magic" country where everything is solved with the Harmonic Nuclear Deterrent. I need it to be a little more deep than that, this isn't a freaking kid's show.

And, for the first time ever in this universe, I created not one, not two, but three redeemable villains that a lot of people found relatable and were, at times, even rooting for. I like to think it takes all kinds to make the world a miserable place, and not everyone can be so damnably powerful and set in their diabolical ways as Gerd and some select other spoilery villains. Don't ask. Anyways, it was refreshing to utilize those characters: one as a repentant soul, very reminiscent of Malik in Visionary, and the other two as tragic victims of circumstances beyond their control.

The epilogue is going to go to some really, really fun places later on in the universe. First in Dustmarch, then again in a direct sequel (or a prequel, maybe, I haven't made up my mind) if I can get enough done by the end of the year to allow it. To make a long story unreasonably short, I loved writing this so much that there's no way I'm going to let it end here.

I MADE AN UNREASONABLY SMALL NUMBER OF CHARACTERS

Which is so not going to make this section any shorter. I'm going to start off with my favorite one.

Gearrick Tinkermane:

You know all those times when you see the Romance tag, look at the characters hoping to see two of the Mane Six, but instead you see one of the Mane Six and the OC tag, so you cry a little inside? Well, I decided to try my hand at it, because I knew, just knew, that someone would go: "Oh look, a Twilight x Self-insert OC ship. Bet this is going to be shit."

Gearrick was a self-insert, and I fucking got all of you. Simply by reviewing the vast number of comments in which Gearrick was either "best pony" or everyone's "favorite character in the universe so far", I think I can safely say that I took the 'bad self-insert shipping' stereotype and decimated it. I don't brag about my stories often, but I think I earned this one.

Anyways, enough about me. Just kidding, let's talk about me, and how Gearrick was a self-insert some more. Obviously I am not any sort of genius, mechanical or otherwise. If Gearrick had been based entirely on me, it would have been a very boring story, simply because he would not have had any talents at all, and would have simply been a lazy good-for-nothing.

Instead I made him the character he needed to be, but with my overall personality. Gearrick is very laid back, doesn't deal well with structure, and hates being looked down on, despite the fact that he doesn't do much of anything in the ways people expect of him. He marches to his own tune, and it gets him into trouble more often than not. He pays very little mind to the ideas of money, spending everything but what he needs to stay alive pursuing his dreams rather than improving his lifestyle. He happily lives in the worst circumstances, so long as he is doing what he loves.

Which made him an amazing contrast to the by-the-book, completely orthodox, and very worrisome Twilight Sparkle, and introduced the much-needed balancing element of the ability to 'let things run their course' from time to time, while she in turn brought him some badly required stability.

In the end, Gearrick turned out in some ways to be the character I wish to be, yet in many ways the man I am with his snarky, witty way with words, his carefree and humorous sense of adventure, and his love and dedication to his dreams, whatever they may be.

Twilight Sparkle:

A lot of the same dorky mare we all know and love, with Razorbeam's own personal twists here and there to make her a more reasonable, less cartoony character. She's older by a few years in this story than what we're used to, and so I strove to make her seem more mature, without taking away the charm of her childish curiosity or her incredible intelligence and wit. Whether I succeeded or not isn't my call to make for you guys, but for my own part I feel like I managed to make her into her own person inside my universe, breaking away from her canon self by a comfortable distance and allowing her to engage in the more mature themes and events that take place in my messed up world.

Though I had many plans for Gearrick's character (as a plain old, boring no-real story OC) way, way before I even decided to write Tinkermane, I didn't build the relationship aspect of the story around him so much as Twilight, though many of you might like to argue. It seems as though a lot of the story focuses on Gearrick and leaves Twilight hanging in the background, letting him play the hero, and that's not entirely untrue. Neither is it correct, though.

I built the relationship itself, arguably the key component of the story, mostly from Twilight's character. Though many of the scenes take place from Gearrick's perspective, it is always Twilight's actions and reactions to the things he does, says, and everything else that are driving the romance forward. Gearrick's feelings aren't even considered until the moment before Twilight admits hers to him. So, while Gearrick may undeniably be the hero of the tale in terms of the dramatic conflict, it is Twilight who really pushed everything to where it was going and made this story what it was. She may not have felt like the main character all the time, but she sure as hell was.

As a side note, for the relationship itself, I'd like to say that it was wonderful to get the chance to write it how I did, cheesy or cliche as many parts of it may have been. I'm not a shy man, so it doesn't bother me in the least to admit to all of you that Gearrick's relationship with Twilight was my vision of the ideal relationship, with the ideal woman. The Twilight you see in this story is most certainly the girl I would love to meet in my life, and so to me this particular romance has felt more real than any other I have ever written. Say what you will about a man and his fantasies, but I hold that it is right, and I was fortunate to have found the opportunity to discover what it is I am really looking for. I suppose this has nothing to do with Twilight's character, but hey, I did say 'side note' at the top of this paragraph.

Mick Magnet:

I loved this character. Absolutely loved, because he represents a very real personality that every single person reading this has encountered, in one way or another, without fail. He is the man on top, the world in his hand and his head in the clouds. A man so full of himself that straightforward success isn't enough, so he grasps at the power to mess with the successes of others.

In the end he overextends his reach, of course, and it all comes crashing down around his ears. Though Gearrick certainly won the fight he had with Mick, I wanted it to be known that Mick defeated himself way, way before that. Gearrick's assault only drove the point for him home: that his own pride and greed had been his downfall. But, rather than letting him be destroyed by those things, I wanted to offer this character the chance to make things right. Though it was sudden and probably should have been handled a different way, I chose to extend that second chance to him by very nearly killing him, and forcing him to reassess his life.

In the end he became a minor hero of sorts, and that was a very, very fun thing to do. Perhaps villains like these are a dime a dozen, but I would never have done this any other way.

Myla and Phyla Trellon:

They were honestly my favorite characters in the story. I'd say Gearrick, but I deal with myself on a daily basis, so to me he's old news. The twins were a very unique pair of characters that, in my personal experience, had never been done before. I don't doubt that in the wide world of fiction someone beat me to the punch, but I hope I spun it uniquely enough to impress even the people who had seen such a thing before.

It gave me the chance to create a romantic conflict, for one, which allowed Twilight to take up her role as a heroine in that particular plot chain, since Gearrick proved the hero in the other. My primary hope with these characters was to create a generous amount of trouble in the story for the heroes, while still allowing the readers to feel as if the twins were the real victims all along. Doubtless nobody felt much of anything for Phyla, and everyone probably felt miserable for Myla. I just want you to reflect on that likelihood, and realize the parallel between what you felt, and what the characters were like. You couldn't truly empathize with the pony who felt nothing, yet you pitied the pony who was an emotional wreck. At the very least I did, and that amuses me to a wonderful degree.

Jack:

He was a Jack Daniel's shout out from the very beginning. I regret nothing.

AND NOW I START THANKING PEOPLE

You know how this goes. I've said it a million times, and I'll say it a million more before I'm through writing, at the end of my days. I write for nobody but myself, and I think that's best for several reasons. Firstly, because I can tell anyone who decides to get in my face with a negative opinion that I really, really don't care what they think of my story. Secondly, because if I write for nobody but myself, it makes sharing the story mean something. In turn, that makes what you choose to say about my story a gift, rather than something I expect from you.

This was my adventure, and I loved every second of it. It took me so much longer to write than I expected, and I was blessed by your patience. Never once did you make me feel as if I was letting you down, or brushing you off, because all of you have graciously understood that I don't work for you, and you don't 'belong' to me as readers. I'm just a guy who likes to share his adventures with people, especially his friends. If you consider yourself just a reader of mine, you're not seeing the bigger picture. Anyone who shares in these adventures of mine isn't a reader, they're a friend. I wouldn't share my stories with anyone else.

Your excited comments, honest feedback, and undeniable patience, made this adventure of mine even more grand than I had hoped. As always, you have driven me to be better with your criticisms, encouraged me with your praise, and pushed me to make this thing really shine on its own. Though I can't say I write for your pleasure, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that all of you have impacted my story, this adventure, in incredible ways

I'd like to offer my particular thanks to a few choice people, as always.

Firstly is Medicshy, an unwavering friend who has been with me since long before this story even started. His critiques, advice, and encouragements impacted this story more than anyone else's. I owe him a debt of gratitude for his critical eye and his much-needed honesty, which keeps me improving with every word I write.

Next is SocraticBrony, who has been a great source of calm for me. I began this story at the start of a very troublesome time in my life, which created a great struggle to continue. Though I never worried that I would give up and let the story die, it would still not be done today if not for him. Whether simply lifting my spirits on days where I felt defeated, or allowing his excitement to infect me and drive me to work on the story, he has been a wonderful friend and brother to me. He'd never let me thank him directly, so I'll just thank him here, where hundreds of people will see it.

Then there are the Mentlegen, the unsung group of heroes who very few of you reading will know. These are the good men I speak with in chat on a daily basis, and they have been an magnificent source of morale, encouragement, and simple fun. My thanks go out to these madmen and witty bastards, who have helped to keep me from going sane. Proud-Dust, Nathan Traveler, Doorknobs, and Twilight at Dusk, this little paragraph is for you.

And lastly I would like to give a special thanks to this story's number one fan: HeimoBauss. Nobody has sung this story's praises like he has, and his zealous love for this tale has brought more smiles to my face than I can count. Every comment by him has been an undeniable pleasure to receive, and he more than anyone else comes to mind when I recall the many chapters I have left behind me on this one. I tip my hat to him, and I pray that someone else is lucky enough to draw his attention and earn his magnificent viewership. Stay classy, Finnish Zombie.

That wraps this up, ladies and gents. Look to the future: tomorrow we right, but tonight we drink!

Regards,

Razorbeam.

I: Time for Change

Warning: If you have yet to read Visionary, you may find parts of this story confusing. Though not a direct sequel, this tale follows the events of Visionary and utilizes much of the same world-building content and characters. I urge you to read it first if you have an interest in this story.

Thank you, and enjoy the adventure!

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"Thanks fer seein' me, Twi," Applejack drawled, plopping down tiredly on one of the floor pillows that Twilight had magicked her way.

Twilight allowed herself a small smile as her tired friend collapsed. From the letters Twilight had been receiving from Aurus, she had expected a tired Applejack, and was well prepared. Things had been stressful on the modest farm mare these past weeks.

Applejack had known well that there was no way to keep her marriage to Aurus a simple affair, but she had never expected just how far her friends would meddle. Korrick Varal, the ancient high councilor of the changeling nation, had succumbed to his wilder side for a moment. In a rare act of mischief, the old changeling had leaked the planned date of the small wedding to the Wings of Change, the international newsgroup that had formed between T'rahk Enox and Equestria.

True to their nature, the newsgroup had spread the word about quickly, reaching all ends of the swiftly growing sphere of changeling and pony influence in the world. There wasn't a paper in the known world that hadn't aired the article.

"It's not like I would've turned you away. But why stay here, and not at the farm?" she asked quietly.

"It's jus' fer the night. I already swung by and let Granny and the others know I'd be over tomorrow, but tonight I jus' need to talk," she explained with a pleading frown.

Twilight smiled warmly, glad that she was the friend Applejack wanted to talk to. She could have gone to any of the other girls, but it warmed her heart to know that it was her presence she wanted.

"Alright, let's talk then," Twilight said, looking out the window to get a grasp of the time. Sunset shades of pink and orange tinted everything, long shadows and quiet breezes dampening the noise from the town outside, turning it into a pleasant background sound; white noise for the soul. "What's bothering you?"

"Heh, what ain't?" Applejack laughed good-naturedly, letting Twilight know she was just exaggerating. "Yer not gonna believe what happened after that article came out. Vemn Enox went all in an uproar 'bout the wedding."

Twilight nodded, having expected that the royal city of the changelings, "The Grand Vale", would have reacted strongest to the announcement of an actual wedding date.

"Here's the crazy part," Applejack cautioned. "They been puttin' posters up all week. Posters of me! Can you believe that? An' everyone's taken t' callin' me 'queen', bowin' to me in the streets. Worst part is that they ain't just bein' formal. Malik says that the changelings think of me like some kind of derned model!"

Twilight was stunned at first. Applejack, a model? Eventually she started to laugh, unable to control herself as that image ran through her head.

"It ain't funny!" Applejack huffed, turning red in the face and dragging her hat low.

"Well it's kind of hard to believe," Twilight said, raising a hoof in apology as the last of her chuckles went out.

"Well, Aurus sorta explained it," Applejack said quietly. "Turns out them changeling fellas think pony gals are miles away prettier than their own ladies. We're 'exotic' is what I think he said. Anyways, me marryin' the king made me the apple of every fella's eye..." Applejack scowled as Twilight eyed her critically because of the pun. "Aw shut up."

"At any rate, you're a celebrity right?" Twilight asked, ignoring the urge to laugh at the bad joke. "A whole nation talking about how pretty you are can't be all that bad," she teased, knowing that it was precisely that.

"Ya know derned well it is!" the modest pony said, flushing hot. "I asked Aurus t' do somethin' about the posters, but he jus' told me he couldn't blame 'em. So like him," she grumbled, pulling her hat off and tugging on it in frustration.

"Well, it's not going to change anything, is it?" Twilight asked with a calming smile. "About the wedding, I mean."

She had the satisfaction of watching Applejack's flush of embarrassment fade into the warm blush of a soon-to-be bride, the corners of her mouth turning up into a slight smile.

"No, 'course not. I can't hardly believe I'm marryin' that fella, but I mean that in a good way. After everythin' he's done, it's like marryin' a legend. But that don't change a thing about how he is with me. For me, he jus' wants to be my husband, not my hero," she said with a warm laugh. "But he's my hero anyways. Gods above I love him, Twi. All the babblin' and fame in the world wouldn't change that." The look on her face was tender, the light in her eyes aglow from something far away from the library. She was in some other place; with Aurus, Twilight knew.

"Well, focusing on that is the best thing for you," Twilight said with a small smile. "Everything around you is changing, but it sounds like your love for him isn't. Just rest on that, and wait for everything else to blow over."

Applejack nodded, coming back to the moment. "Yer right, as usual. It ain't no secret yer advice is the best around," Applejack said with a laugh, which Twilight shared.

"What else is on your mind?" Twilight asked, inching closer as the night grew longer. Conversation became simpler, the topics easier. Applejack recounted her efforts of raising a new orchard in T'rahk Enox, the two of them taking the time to relive the godlike transformation of the world that had taken place right before their eyes. They talked long into the night, recounting stories old and new, until at last the moon was too far through its swing to keep their eyes open.

Twilight set Applejack a place in her room, and the two shared a few final laughs, and a fond goodnight.

Applejack had never looked happier. Celestia finally called for the kiss everyone had been waiting for with bated breath, and as Aurus leaned down to kiss her, wedding bells chimed loudly.

Twilight was happy to the bottom of her soul. But everything in her vision changed as she panned about. Here, Rarity too kissed her lover, then Fluttershy hers. Even Spike was kissing the girl of his dreams. Every couple at the wedding relished in that happy moment, sharing in the newly wedded pair's bliss.

Every couple, yet Twilight stood alone. She looked around, hoping to find someone else by themselves to which she could talk, to evade the suddenly pressing feeling that she stood out. Stood out, because she was alone.

Twilight shot awake, putting her hooves to her face. A dream, just a dream. She looked around, seeing that her bed had been tossed and turned into a mess, with the blanket all wadded up around her back legs. The pillow was on the floor, and the window had managed to blow itself open, silver moonlight flowing through and making everything black-and-white around her.

She pulled her hooves away from her face, but noted that they were wet. Grabbing the blanket, she tugged it to her face and scrubbed at her eyes gently. Sure enough, as she pulled it away it was stained with tears she hadn't known she was crying.

The pillow pressed into her chest suddenly, gently. She looked up to see Applejack standing there, smiling softly, her tired eyes fighting sleep.

"It looks like I'm not the only one who needed t' talk." Applejack sat down next to her on the bed, smile still in place.

Twilight sniffed quietly, trying to clear her nose from the leftovers of a cry she hadn't known she was having. "I-it was just a bad dream," she declared weakly, hugging the pillow tight.

"Bad enough t' make one of the strongest ponies I know come t' tears," AJ pointed out, putting a hoof on Twilight's shoulder. "Ya've been tossin' and turnin' all night, and I've been listenin'. When ya started snifflin', I got up t' check on ya, but then ya shot wide awake." Her tone was all concern, her eyes full of a friendly fear. "What was it about?"

Twilight sighed, closing her eyes and easily recalling the vivid dream; one of the most real ones she had ever had. "It was your wedding day, and I was so happy for you. But when I looked around, everypony was with somepony they loved. Everypony except me," she said quietly, tears starting to form again.

Applejack sighed knowingly, and reached out to her friend, dragging Twilight into a much-needed hug. "It's alright, Twi. That's just your heart tryin' to tell ya what it wants. It has a way of creepin' up on ya, showin' ya things ya never knew ya wanted." Her tone was comforting and gentle, just like the embrace she offered.

"I don't know what I want though," Twilight admitted, her voice a hushed whisper. "It just... just happened. I don't even know where it came from!" Her voice caught as she squeezed Applejack gently, battling a mixture of frustration and lingering hurt.

"I think I do, sugar," Applejack said quietly. "Everypony around ya is movin' on, findin' the guy or gal of their dreams, and yer startin' t' feel left out, left behind. No love up and found ya like it did me..." the orange mare said sadly. She heard Twilight sniff away some tears over her shoulder, and rubbed her back gently. "Yer heart's lonely, Twi."

"But I have my friends... and... and..." Twilight sniffled, looking for more excuses.

"Listen sugar; ya've always been good fer thinkin', but the heart ain't a thinkin' thing," Applejack said quietly. "Ya can't just count how many ponies ya know and say ya ain't lonely. Love comes in all kinds, and the heart wants some of each. Ya got friends who love ya, and parents who love ya... But ya don't have a fella, and it's a world different in a lot of ways."

"But I don't know any ponies I could date, or anything like that!" Twilight complained, pulling away so she could look Applejack in the face.

Twilight's own was a mess, all tears and ruffled fluff with those big, watery purple eyes barely holding the whole thing together.

"Hun, it ain't about knowin' a fella t' pick," Applejack said simply, wiping some of the wetness out of her face. "I didn't even know Aurus existed until he came into my life. It jus' happened fer me all of a sudden. Ya can't plan fer it, ya just have t' find it. Yer always lookin' out fer the rest of us, fixin' problems everywhere ya go. Ya never stop to let somethin' happen fer yerself," Applejack said, giving her a gentle shake.

"But somepony has to," Twilight said quietly. "I don't even think I would be good at love, Applejack."

"That ain't fair t' yerself," The farm pony said, letting her tone take on a careful edge of frustration. "There ain't a gal in the world no good fer love. Heck, look at me! I ain't the pick of the litter, an' I'm t' marry a king, Twi. It ain't about who ya are, or what ya think ya can do. It's jus' about actin' on yer feelings. When yer heart says jump, an' someday it will, ya jus' have t' trust it t' know best."

Twilight sighed, but not in defeat. It was the sigh of letting go, of accepting that she was finally in an argument that she couldn't win. She didn't know enough to argue against Applejack where matters of the heart were concerned, and she didn't want to. Everything she said felt comforting, warm. Twilight's dream guy was out there somewhere, and it wasn't just something she could go and get. It was something intangible, somepony that maybe she had never met.

For once, something in her life had no rationale. Everything about love rested purely on instinct and chance, areas far outside Twilight's range of expertise. But surprisingly she didn't find that notion frustrating or challenging; only invigorating. What could happen and what couldn't weren't documented, weren't certain. It was the excitement of the unknown.

"You okay, sugar?" Applejack asked, giving her a light shake.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine," Twilight said quietly, eyes still fixated on her back hooves, where she had been staring since Applejack last spoke. She finally snapped out of that faraway gaze, and even managed a smile as she looked at her orange friend. "What do you think I should do?"

Applejack chuckled, and gave her shoulder a gentle nudge. "Do whatever feels right. Ya shouldn't go crazy lookin' for somepony t' fall fer, but ya need t' keep yer eyes, and yer heart, open. Don't coop yerself up, an' I don't jus' mean in the library; not everythin' has to be business. Aurus came t' me, an' I was lucky fer that. But before that he was out there somewhere," she said, pointing out the window. "It's a different kind of brave, t' go through life with an open heart, but if ya do ya can at least rest knowing that someday, someplace, somepony'll walk right in an' make himself at home in it."

Twilight nodded, smiling sadly to herself. "Someday," she whispered quietly.

"Twi, for a gal like you, someday ain't far off," Applejack said with a warm smile. She reached out and hugged Twilight one last time. "But fer now, ya should get some sleep. We can talk some more in the mornin' if ya need."

Twilight hugged back, smiling more fully now. "Thanks Applejack... I'm lucky to have a friend like you."

Applejack broke off the embrace, hopping off the bed and smiling all the while. "We're lucky t' have friends like each other, Twi. Now get some sleep," she pleaded.

Twilight just laid down, magicking the blanket back up around her. "No promises," she joked quietly.

"Well at least don't keep me up then," Applejack scolded, laughing to herself as she wandered away.

Twilight smiled to herself, turning her head away from the moonlight still streaming in on the wings of a cool summer breeze. "Goodnight Applejack," she whispered, and at last she fell into sound and pleasant sleep.

Twilight sighed to herself as she finally put away the last of the tomes. Reshelving Day had become a much larger chore ever since Spike had moved out, but one that still needed doing. Twilight had found herself badly pressed for things to do in the past two weeks since Applejack had gone back to T'rahk Enox. Her wedding was still two months away, but her duties with the new orchard demanded her attention, so the farm pony had returned to her soon-to-be husband's side.

Her advice hadn't faded since then. Every time Twilight went into town, it was on her mind. Who could she meet? Where? When? Those questions consumed her anytime she looked at a stallion lately, often causing her to blush wildly when she finally returned to reality.

A week of that awkward thinking had been enough for her, so despite AJ's hopes that she wouldn't coop herself up, Twilight had taken to occupying herself with library business. Of which there wasn't much, for few ponies needed books often enough to truly keep her busy. Most of her other friends were either busy with the wedding or living out of town these days, and so the greatest pain of any intellectual mind had eventually started creeping into Twilight's life.

Boredom.

A buzzing sound from the street outside drew her attention, and looking out the open front door she watched with a small smile as an orange blur raced past, dropping a newspaper on her doorstep in its wake. Scootaloo's infamous evening newspaper run started at the same time every Saturday night, but every day it finished a little faster.

With a soft laugh to herself, Twilight went to retrieve the newspaper. She would have thanked Scootaloo, but it was a widely known fact that she wouldn't have stopped to hear it.

Twilight plopped down at the library table and flipped through the gazette. She checked the sports section for any news about Rainbow Dash and, not finding any, promptly set it aside. She skimmed the rest of it, folding up the crossword for later as she always did. Most of the paper was much the same as always; more details about the wedding, articles on getting along with your new changeling neighbors, real-estate listings in T'rahk Enox.

Something on her second scan-through caught her eye. The second page was dominated by an image of a large gear with the silhouette of a pony inside. Beneath it ran a scroll-like banner reading '12th Annual Steamtech Festival'.

Intrigued, Twilight locked onto the article below it.

Come one, come all to Manehattan's twelfth annual Steamtech Festival! Powerful machines and graceful automations from all corners of Equestria will be here to astound and amaze you! Witness the technological marvels of the future with your own eyes as some of the greatest minds of our time strive for the grand prize.

It went on for many more lines, outlining the date and a small admittance fee for spectators. Contest entries were apparently closed now, not that Twilight knew the first thing about actual steam tinkering anyways. But she had read a great many books on it; steamtech powered almost everything in towns like Manehattan and Fillydelphia, but in an out of the way place like Ponyville, it was a rare sight.

Twilight didn't realize until her third read-through of the article that she had still been staring at the page. She set it down, smiling to herself. Now here was something that sounded interesting to her at last. Something she could really get behind; to Twilight, an exhibition of brilliant minds like this was like a Wonderbolts show to Rainbow Dash. She had heard the festival talked about before, but had never had the time or the drive to go.

Until now. She had nothing but time on her hooves lately, and so on came the rhetorical question that always marks the beginning of a good time.

"Why not?" she asked with a small laugh, folding up the page after one last look at the date. It started on Monday, so she could use tomorrow to get some things together for the trip and book a train over. It had been ages since she'd gone anywhere besides Canterlot or T'rahk Enox, and so she was looking forward to seeing a new place, and meeting some of the brilliant minds behind the Steamtech wonder that was Manehattan.

"Time for Twilight to have a little fun," she chuckled, tucking the article into a nearby bag, one she would pack in the morning.

The train bumped and rattled over a rough spot in the tracks, jolting Twilight awake. She hadn't meant to doze off of course, but a twelve hour train ride wasn't exactly entertaining. She looked out the window sleepily, her tired eyes taking in the black veil of the night sky. The tracks ahead were lit by a single beam of light from the front of the train, and pressing her face to the glass she could see a bend coming up to the east. Her gaze trailed that direction, until at last she locked onto her destination.

Manehattan was beautiful in the night, aglow like a sonic rainboom. Lights of every color shone into the night, reflecting off a comfortable haze of steam that rested just below the tops of the tall skyscrapers, reflecting the myriad colors and bouncing them around. It was like a crystalline rainbow cloud that roofed the entire city.

The intercom crackled to life, the conductor announcing that their arrival would be soon. Twilight smiled as she looked at the place; just seeing it was worth the trouble of coming, and she could barely imagine what it was like in there, where all those bright lights were. According to her driver, the local time was already midnight, but having napped most of the way Twilight was far from tired.

As the train pulled into the station, Twilight eagerly waited at the doors. The second the station attendant pulled them open she was out, looking around with an eager eye. Lamps lit the streets everywhere, but not with firelight or magic. Electricity ran everything here, powered by the plant on the Manehattan river, which even at this late hour billowed steam into the cool night air along the riverfront. The city itself felt comfortably warm, and the immediate humidity made her coat start to feel frizzy.

Everything dripped, steam condensing on tin rooftops, streetlamps, and anything cool and metal. It wasn't dismal though, but rather entrancing; as if a soothing rain were always falling, yet the open streets were clear, not a drop splashing on them. Everything about the place fascinated Twilight; it was alive with sounds and lights, with buildings so tall that every turn in the streets and alleys was like a maze, every destination concealed.

She trotted over to the attendant, figuring she should at least get directions to a hotel before she went and got lost in the city. He mentioned that there was one just two blocks down and three over, so Twilight thanked him and headed off in search of it.

She struggled her way through a revolving door, having never used one before, and made her way over to the reception desk. "Good evening," she called cheerfully.

"Good evenin', little lady," the stallion at the counter replied, smiling warmly. "Took the late train in, did ya?" The stallion had a black mane and a deep brown coat, a fairly average looking fellow, aside from his size. He was at least as tall and wide at the shoulder as Big Mac, but Twilight could tell from his friendly, deep tone that he was probably just as kindhearted. He had an interesting accent that the station attendant had also shared, so she assumed it must be a Manehattan thing.

"That's right," she said, taking her bag off and setting it on the floor. "I'm in town to see the Steamtech Festival."

"Not a bad reason to be in town," he said politely. "I admit I don't know much about that sorta thing though, so I've only ever been once. Still, it's quite the sight; ya won't be disappointed. Anyways, I imagine ya need a room. We're booked pretty tight because of the festival, but I 'spose I've got one I can spare. Had a reservation cancel just this mornin'," the fellow said warmly, prying open a registration book. "It's gonna have to be on the top floor, though. That good for ya?"

"That's fine," Twilight said with a nod, glad that there was a vacancy. She'd been so caught up in the excitement that she hadn't thought about how hard finding a room could have been, especially the day before the festival.

"Well miss, I just need yer name and thirty bits. I'll cut ya a deal since I don't think I can fill the room otherwise for the night," he said, passing her a room key.

"Twilight Sparkle, and I appreciate it," she replied, fishing the fee out of her bag and stacking it neatly on the counter with her magic.

"Twilight Sparkle, got it," he muttered to himself, nose in the registration booklet as he scribbled her down.

"Just a quick question, but is there anything in town to do this late at night around here? I slept on the train, so I was hoping to look around some," she asked pleasantly.

The big stallion just smiled. "Well, yer definitely an out-of-towner. Lady, whatever ya want to do in Manehattan ya can do, day or night. They've got a place for everythin' in this city."

Twilight grinned with excitement, thanked him, and made her way towards the elevator to put her bag away.

"Hey, miss?" He called after her. "If ya like ya can leave yer bag here and I'll take it up fer ya. Save ya some time so's you can see the sights."

Twilight wasn't about to argue with an offer like that, and so she left her bag at the counter and stumbled through the revolving door again for a night on the town.

The clerk laughed warmly to himself as he watched her half-walk, half-fall through the door. "Tourists."

Twilight had to consciously dial down her pace as she made her way down Main Street. It only took her a few seconds to find the next new or interesting thing, so she was forever on the move. She had been worried her zealous tourism would get her lost, but luckily every corner had street signs, and Twilight's solid memory made it easy to recall her way back to the hotel no matter how many turns she took.

Both sides of the boulevard were lined with shops, all of them very professional businesses closed for the late hours, minus a few bars on opposite corners who were still open well into the night to compete with each other. Twilight was never much of a drinker herself, but on rare occasions when she was in the mood or when the frustration got to be a little too much, she'd go for a few drinks.

But even with all of those shops closed, Main Street was packed. All down the center of the road, in a perfectly straight line, were various stalls. All of them were on wheels, or at the very least looked like they were built to be put up and taken down, and not a single one looked like another. It was an easy enough conclusion to draw for Twilight that during the day big business took charge, but at night smaller entrepreneurs came out to hawk their wares in the same popular location the major stores used. A good number of the small establishments were food vendors, and these were doing particularly good business, ponies crowded around them or seated at some of the large ones.

She wandered along the side of the street, eying each stall and taking in the myriad sounds and smells of fried and baked foods. It might as well have been the middle of the day in Ponyville, because ponies were everywhere; talking, eating, laughing. Time wasn't even a thing here, it seemed like.

The various scents had her stomach rumbling in no time, and she realized that she hadn't eaten since lunch on the train. Frankly, train meals weren't exactly top fare, and everything here smelled fantastic. Following the trail of her current favorite scent, Twilight brushed aside a curtain that ringed in a long, bar-style stall, complete with stools. On the opposite side it was open to let the heat of the cooking area out, with space for trays lined all along the back of the bar top.

"Evenin' miss!" called the proprietor, smiling warmly through his mustache. Twilight couldn't see his eyes for how bushy his eyebrows were, so she silently wondered how he had even seen her. "What'll ya have?"

Twilight took a seat, smiling. "Good evening. I'm not sure what I want, to be honest. It's my first night in town, so I'm just trying to take everything in," she said with a laugh.

The owner just grinned, white teeth showing under his mustache. "An out-of-towner, eh? Then I know just the thing. Trust ol' Jack, he knows what's good for a night on the town," he chuckled to himself, already dishing things onto a plate from the trays on his side of the bar. "How's about a glass of wine, young miss?" he asked. "Seein' as it's yer first night, it won't run ya any extra. But if ya come back I'll have to charge ya," he said with a joking tone, sliding the plate in front of her.

Everything smelled perfect, and her stomach did its best to vocalize that thought with a loud growl. The old pony chuckled as she flushed in embarrassment. "No thanks, I don't think I should drink tonight," she said politely.

"Oh psh," Jack huffed. "I don't think ya shouldn't. It's just a glass, what's it gonna hurt ya?" he asked, pouring her one anyways.

With the glass now in front of her, Twilight didn't think she could really refuse without being rude; at that point it would just be wasted. "If you insist..." she said reluctantly, taking it in her front hooves and turning the glass side to side, eying the deep, purplish-red liquid inside.

A clinking sound down the bar drew her attention. She hadn't realized it, but she was only one of two ponies at the stall at this hour. The unicorn stallion at the opposite end of the bar had a reddish brown mane that looked unkempt, as if he had simply woken up that morning, run a hoof through it, and called it good. It was cut short and formed up into lazy spikes, giving it an attractive, carefree sort of look. His tail was likewise bushy, not a smooth, sweeping flow of hair like it should have been.

His coat was a light tan, a shade that meshed well with his mane and tail, and his hazel eyes shone almost golden in the light of the stall. Most of his coloring and features seemed pretty normal, except for the fact that he had matching scars on both sides of his jaw. They weren't gruesome, but rather simply there, identical patches of reddened skin showing through his coat on his jaw line. Around his neck dangled a pair of goggles of a type that Twilight hadn't ever seen before; flight goggles were fairly standard, but his were made of thicker glass, tinted red in heavy brass frames, all tied together with thick brown leather straps.

Another clinking noise followed the first as the unicorn fished a bit out of a backpack he had pulled in front of him with his hooves. This process went on for a short while until he had a small pile of money in front of him on the bar, next to his empty plate. A half-full bottle of whiskey sat next to a perfectly clean shot glass, for the stallion had simply been drinking out of the bottle all night.

He stood up and swung the backpack on, shaking his shoulders to better situate it. "I'm taking the bottle, Jack," he called, his deep voice clear and crisp, with not a hint of the Manehattan accent anywhere in it.

"Ya always do," the old man called, shaking his head and laughing. "Another long night, then?"

"It always is," the unicorn said with a tired laugh, picking the bottle of whiskey up with his magic, which had a copper-colored glow. "I've got to make sure everything's in top shape for the competition tomorrow. You have a good night," he called over his shoulder, brushing aside the curtain and making his way into the street beyond.

"That happen often?" Twilight asked around a lump of food in her mouth. It seemed like such a strange thing to walk off with the entire bottle.

"Just with him. He's a bit of an odd fella, but he always covers the cost of the whole bottle, so I don't raise a fuss. Ya can do the same with the wine, if ya want," he said, quirking a bushy eyebrow as he noted that the glass he had given her was already empty.

Twilight flushed as she realized she had topped it off watching the stranger. "I don't know about the whole bottle," she said with a sheepish smile, "but maybe one more glass?"

Jack just smiled and gave her a refill. "Sure thing, young lady. Welcome to Manehattan."

IX: An Eye for an Eye

Twilight groaned as her eyes fluttered open slowly. The sight that greeted her didn't make sense at first, until her awareness of gravity kicked in and she realized that she was looking at everything upside down. She moved to roll over, but cried out in pain as her right foreleg shot a sharp bite of agony through her, causing her to roll back the other way and relieve the pressure on her shoulder.

Dislocated for sure; better than a broken leg, but equally painful. She carefully rolled across her other side, wincing as her injured leg dragged, jarring her shoulder. With a little more careful maneuvering and some magical assistance she was finally able to get back up on her three good legs and get a look around.

She was in some sort of office building, that much was clear. Empty cubicles and abandoned swivel chairs filled one side of the room, while the one that she was on was mostly empty.

Mostly, because directly behind her was the pony who had attacked her. Twilight whirled on the armored menace, horn flaring and ready to give the entire fight another go, but her magic faded suddenly as she noticed that the suit was empty.

The black shell stood on its own, like the husk of some insect: hollow and lifeless. Although it didn't move, it stood facing her with the face panel lit and those same strange, blue lines of energy pulsing all over its onyx plating. Wires ran to its hooves from the wall behind it, plugged into various outlets.

Gearrick had explained to her that in most buildings ponies could pull electricity straight from the same power system the streetlamps did. The system was only supposed to support smaller appliances, but Twilight had studied electricity a little and knew enough to know that this armor suit was not a small appliance.

Seeing it now that it wasn't trying to kill her, she was able to get a clearer picture. It had no engines or steam pipes, so she quickly came to the conclusion that it couldn't power itself. In that case it was probably charging itself up.

If this suit didn't have the energy it needed to run itself, Twilight could toss the stupid hunk of black metal around like a rag-doll; and the pony inside of it.

She looked around, realizing that if the suit were left here, its owner would have to be around also. Twilight didn't often find herself outsmarted, so she had a hard time believing that her enemy would be stupid enough to leave her weapon unattended.

She peeked around the corners of the nearest cubicles and, finding nothing, headed for the next row of them. Her next hobbling step came to a very sudden halt as the suit behind her emitted a high-pitched whine. The memory of what that sound meant was too vivid for Twilight's liking, and her heart skipped a beat as she braced herself for the worst.

A shimmering field of electric-blue energy descended in front of her, only as wide as she was at the shoulder, but reaching all the way between the floor and the ceiling. Having not been slammed by a door or blasted by a laser, Twilight let out a sigh of relief, but couldn't deny her curiosity regarding the light-wall. It was clearly some kind of barrier, but it wasn't magical in nature. Just like her own barriers she could see through it, though everything was stained blue by the flickering light.

Cautiously, Twilight inched closer. Balancing on her back hooves, she moved to touch the screen with her good leg. Before she ever made contact, electricity arced out from the light-wall, striking her hoof. It was like a miniature bolt of lightning, and the shock floored Twilight instantly, her muscles clenching uncontrollably for a few moments before she was able to force herself back to her hooves.

The brief convulsions she had suffered left her breathing hard and aching everywhere, and she backed away from the wall, looking around. There didn't seem to be anything around it, just a Twilight-sized wall of light. Moving to the side, she was dismayed to see that the patch of light followed her, always blocking only as much of her path as it needed to.

Twilight shook her head to clear her thoughts. So she didn't understand what the suit was capable of yet, that much was obvious. Clearly it could still fight her without a user, though it seemed more like it was just trying to contain her for the time being. If she was going to get out, she would need to learn more about her situation.

To do that, hobbling around on three legs just wasn't going to cut it. Twilight scowled as she realized she was going to have to relocate her shoulder before she could even think about escape methods. Taking a few deep breaths to steady herself, Twilight sat down and grabbed her injured shoulder with her magic. Her mind did battle with the fear of pain for a few more minutes, many more deep breaths going by.

At last she gritted her teeth, and with all of her magnificent control of magic, pushed with all her might. She groaned with the pain as the joint resisted her efforts to reassemble it, and tears formed in her eyes as she twisted her leg as gently as she could to try and ease it better into position. She cried out as she pushed again, even harder this time, and with a final, sharp blast of pain and a loud pop, Twilight let her magic fade.

She simply lay there for a while, panting after her efforts. Her shoulder still ached badly, but at least she could move her leg again without it nearly causing her to pass out. After many more minutes of rest, she forced herself back up to her hooves, testing her weight. Her leg held underneath her, and though each step she took caused her shoulder to burn, she simply did her best to ignore it.

With the pain mostly resolved, she was finally able to try and think about her imprisonment. The machine was clearly able to keep her from simply walking away, and a quick circuit of the room revealed that it was keeping her in a pretty much circular pen, the light-wall following her everywhere she went.

Twilight smiled as she realized that machine was probably designed for anti-magical purposes; that's why she hadn't been able to beat it. However, lasers and barriers were pretty run-of-the-mill where magic was concerned. Luckily Twilight knew a few tricks that were very far from standard.

Standing in front of the light-wall, Twilight focused on the area she could see beyond it. Teleporting to a region she could see was as easy to her as lifting a pebble, and so without batting an eye she made the jump.

As always her vision simply cut out for a brief moment while the spell transported her, but her smug smile vanished as she realized that she hadn't arrived where she had meant to go. The light-wall hummed behind her right where it should have been, but somehow she was still inside the radius of the suit's influence.

Twilight trotted across the room to where she had been standing when she tried to teleport. Looking over her shoulder she found that where she had wound up was directly on the other side of the circular area she was confined to. Confused, Twilight readied her spell and jumped again, only to find that she ended up on the other side of the circle once more.

So, trying to teleport out one side of the circle only spat her back in the other. Twilight tried again, this time for somewhere above her, through the ceiling. Sure enough when her vision cleared she was left standing in the middle of the circle. Her attempt to go through the floor was worse yet, dropping her nearly ten feet suddenly when she came back in at the ceiling.

She groaned with frustration, having a hard time believing that this machine could have anticipated or been built to specifically counter such an advanced magic like teleportation. There had to be some kind of general principle that prevented all magic, but nothing she knew about electricity would have made that possible.

So she couldn't walk out and couldn't teleport. The armor was the source of all this mess, so if it were to turn off, she would be able to leave. Following this simple line of reasoning with renewed hope, Twilight approached the suit, only to find her way blocked by a light wall.

"Of course," she muttered. Her frustration got the better of her and so she spat at it grumpily, watching the spittle crackle and evaporate as the light wall fried it. "Can't get near it," she grumbled, looking at the wires tied to it instead. Unfortunately none of them fell within the range of the light-wall, so Twilight couldn't get her hooves on one.

It didn't stop her from trying to yank one out of the wall with her magic, but no matter how much she tried nothing happened outside the suit's influence. She even used a little trick she had learned from Korrick, trying to blast the suit with a ball of air, but it just smashed into the light-wall and the air dispersed. Her magic was completely ineffective anywhere outside the circle.

That sparked an idea, and so Twilight trotted to the center of the circular area. She created a barrier and pushed it outward, growing the bubble until it started pushing on the light-wall's border, thinking to push the wall out far enough to reach the wires or the suit.

The room lit up like a blue super-nova, the entire circle becoming one giant barrier of its own. Anywhere her shield touched the wall of light it would simply fall apart, the magic fizzling out and leaving behind only the pulsing blue wall. Twilight could still feel her magic going outward, and knew that the spell was working, trying to create the barrier like she wanted. Sadly, the magic was just being wasted; negated by that wall.

Twilight gave up on her barrier, breathing a little heavier from her magical exertion. She had tried everything she could think of, but nothing seemed to work. She couldn't touch the suit, couldn't break the wall or leave the circle. As long as that thing was plugged in and getting power, she was trapped.

She sighed in defeat and sat down. This problem had to have a solution; there had to be a logical explanation for why her magic was failing, but Twilight didn't understand the first thing about the suit itself. How it was stopping her was a mystery.

"I wish Gearrick were here," she said tiredly, looking across the room and out the office windows. All she could see were the walls of other skyscrapers, but she knew that she was still in the city, and that Gearrick was out there somewhere. He knew so much about steamtech; surely he would know how to stop the suit.

Her despair, the feeling of being trapped and helpless, weighed heavily on her thoughts of him. Maybe he would know how to help her, but he wouldn't come. The fourth stage of the contest was today; he would have to go, or be disqualified. Why would he risk his dreams just to come looking for a girl he had only known for a few short days?

"He's not coming," Twilight sighed, tears forming in her eyes as she laid down, too tired and hurt to lift her head anymore. "Oh Celestia, what do I do?"

"I'm coming, Twilight," Gearrick muttered to himself, the sunset reflecting in his red-tinted goggles, the soot of his welding staining his face. He had been working since morning, harder than he had ever worked on anything before. The equations that he would normally have to write down and work through for hours came to him with ease in his head, and he didn't question the results. He had no time, had to believe that all of his calculations were correct.

For hours he had heated and shaped, melded and cut. Jack brought him water and food, but he never took a break, eating while he worked. His goggles were fogged from the sweat of his breakneck pace, but he paid the haze in his vision no mind. He didn't even need to see what he was doing with his eyes; it was in his mind, down to the last burr on the shredded bronze plate he was welding into place.

This invention was no Nomad. The welds were ugly, but strong. The rough edges of the ruptured plating and cracked gears were left as he found them, for he hadn't the moments to spare to make it beautiful.

It would have been ugly anyways; all weapons were. A tinker's inventions were supposed to be the springboard for even further creation, yet here was a tool of his trade solely built to destroy.

He had no choice, and he told himself those exact words for the thousandth time that day as still more sparks filled the air around him. It was nearly finished; the worst work of his career. A work that would help nopony.

Nopony except Twilight, but nopony except her mattered right now. She was somewhere, frightened and alone at the mercy of those twisted sisters and that terrible machine from the guild.

Another hour passed, and the sun drifted down below the horizon somewhere far beyond the city. The Veil remained lit, gently showing rays that no eye could catch as the last pink and orange vestiges of daylight stained it.

It was finally finished. A masterpiece if ever there was one, but a dark and terrible sort. Gearrick sighed, knowing that Brass Tacks would never have forgiven him for making such a thing.

"You okay, kiddo?" Jack asked, seeing the sad look in his eyes, even through his hazy goggles.

Gearrick pulled those goggles down at long last, letting his disappointment go. "I'll be alright, Jack. I'm only doing what I have to," he said calmly, looking at the invention before him. "It's done."

Jack eyed the device, what appeared to be a half-suit of armor. It was designed to fully cover Gearrick's front legs, shoulders, and chest, with a hefty bronze pack that rested between the shoulder blades. Around the hooves on each leg of the armor were strange, metal rings that were driven by small gears. One leg had three of these rings running around the hoof, the other only one, though the one was significantly larger and sported several metal spikes, though they didn't appear to be for doing damage.

He watched as Gearrick sighed one final time before making his way toward it, sliding his legs into the waiting guards. A series of scorched leather straps laced themselves together under his magical influence, binding the chest and leggings tightly to him. At last the bronze pack fell across his shoulders, obscuring the straps and clicking into place with the rest of the armor.

He was a terror, a walking mess of shredded metal, his goggles back in place and hiding his usually cheerful eyes. What little of his face Jack could see was a mask of cold resolve. Every step he took was accentuated with the subtle rumbling of gears as they aided his movement in the heavy suit, making his steps fluid.

Like the other suit, this one had no engine, but Gearrick had planned for that. He knew, though unsure how, that Twilight was still in the city. The city itself was alive with energy everywhere. Power lines, street lamps, everything used electricity. Even his enemy's own suit used it.

Gearrick stared at his left foreleg, and at the spiked ring at its hoof. This suit would have no trouble taking that energy away from whatever he desired; energy he would use to find and save Twilight.

"What's she do, lad?" Jack asked, a slight tremor in his voice as he eyed the invention.

Gearrick stopped testing the suit's motion, fixing Jack with a look the old pony would never forget; one of mixed sorrow, fear, and necessary resolve.

"Something terrible," was all he said.

The lights flickered dimly before returning to full strength, drawing a lazy glance from the security guard lounging in the front lobby. "Lousy wiring," he muttered, flicking his hooves to spread the newspaper he was holding back into place.

Most of the other ponies had gone home already, but of course he was stuck with the night shift. A few of the harder working ponies from the research divisions were still around, as always, but they were free to leave whenever they pleased. The little lights on the security panel showed him which rooms were still in use, mostly a couple labs and the lights for accounting on the twenty-second floor.

The guard chuckled to himself as he noted that the lights for Mick Magnet's office, and his secretary's, were both still on. Big surprise there, they were always the last two out. As with any workplace, rumors abounded at headquarters about just how professional the relationship between boss and secretary really was. Whether they were true or not was none of the guard's business, but he didn't find it too hard to believe that there might be a little bit of a late-night office affair going on up on the fortieth floor.

The lights flickered again, this time dimming almost to nothing for quite a while before finally coming back on. The guard scowled up at the ceiling, glaring at the offending lights. "For Pete's sake, can't a guy read at work anymore?" he growled, snapping the paper back into place again. "I mean hell, we run the damned power plant for crying out loud," he muttered.

A knocking sound on the ornate, glass doors to the main lobby drew his attention. Outside, only utter darkness greeted him; all of the streetlamps were out, a very unusual thing for this late hour. Perhaps something had happened to the power lines. The guild headquarters had its own backup facility, so that must have been why the lights were flickering.

The knocking drew his attention again, so he scoured the dark outdoors for the offender. He was startled to find only two red, glowing dots staring back at him, and the very slight outline of a pony from the light of the lobby filtering through the doors.

The knock came again, this time a little louder.

The guard swallowed his fear, noticing that the glowing red eyes were simply a pair of welding goggles reflecting the lobby lights. It was probably some engineer who had forgotten something, but policy was policy. After close, nopony came in.

"We're closed, buddy," the guard called loudly, stuffing his nose back in his paper. "Come back tomorrow!"

The knocking stopped, so the guard checked to make sure the pony outside was gone. Even knowing what they were, those red eyes startled him again as he found the pony still standing at the entrance and staring at him.

"I said we're closed!" he growled, getting out of his chair and heading for the doors. "If he ain't gonna leave, I'll make him," the guard muttered to himself, honestly glad to have some action for once in this lazy line of work.

He hadn't gone more than three steps when the lights flickered again and suddenly went out, stopping him dead in his tracks. With the building lights out and the streetlamps dead as well, it was pitch black except for the slight glow of lights elsewhere in the city reflecting off the Veil above. As his eyes slowly adjusted, he could once again see the outline of the pony outside, though the otherworldly red light reflecting off his goggles was now thankfully gone.

"I-I said we're closed!" the guard stammered. He was a little unnerved to find the pony still standing there, especially with the lights out and all.

A steady luminescence suddenly flared at the hooves of the pony outside. That light was the same familiar blue of electricity that the guard had seen a dozen times patrolling the labs. Rings spun around the stranger's hooves, the electricity gathering on them, or so it seemed. The blue light lit his jagged armor from underneath like the pale ghost-light from children's tales, casting menacing shadows on the walls and ceiling of the entryway. In an instant the stranger had become a glowing creature with wings and claws of shadow, and those terrible red-eyed goggles.

"Oh Celestia..." the guard whispered, terrified and frozen on the spot, unable to take his eyes away.

The rings around the stranger's hooves stopped spinning suddenly, and the pack on the pony's back opened up, flipping two triangular contraptions out to his sides, like the flared wings of some twisted demon.

Suddenly the world was a blaze of electric-blue light, reflected off a million surfaces. The guard tried to cry out as glass rained down all around him, the lobby doors suddenly shattered to bits. A powerful wave of sound, the same bass wave that had shattered the doors, rocked through him and drowned his cry with its own powerful volume. The pressure wave lifted him from his hooves, tossing him backwards like a leaf in a storm.

His ears were ringing as his vision finally settled again, and he could barely hear the hoofsteps of the pony who had blown the lobby wide open, even as it drew closer. The guard's hearing slowly returned, the soft clicking of the intruder's steps growing louder and louder.

"S-stay back!" the guard cried, jumping to his hooves and pulling out his billy club.

The advancing armored pony halted, but did not seem to be worried. "Drop the weapon. I don't want to hurt you," came a quiet reply.

"Like hell!" The guard roared, not about to part with his only countermeasure now that he was face-to-face with something that had just thrown him across the room without lifting a hoof.

"Fine, keep it," grumbled the pony. "Just tell me where I can find Mick Magnet."

"Why should I?" the guard asked stubbornly, some confidence returning since the intruder hadn't managed to disarm him yet.

The rings around the mystery pony's hooves started spinning again, the triangular 'wings' folding back down. Raising his right foreleg, the trespasser pointed his hoof at the security desk.

The guard never saw anything happen, never heard a sound. The desk simply cracked down the center, and then blew apart, sparks flying as the electrical implements within suffered the desk's fate. There was no shockwave like before, but the destruction was clear, and it was instantaneous.

"That's why," came a calm, cold voice from the shadowy silhouette of the dangerous intruder.

"F-fortieth floor!" the guard yammered loudly, finding himself sitting after the shock of watching the desk explode. "I-it's the only office on it!"

The rings stopped spinning once more, the electricity on them dying out. "Thank you," came the simple, serious reply. "You've been a big help. Why don't you take the rest of the night off?" the stranger asked, never looking at the guard on his way past as he headed for the elevators.

The security guard had never heard such a wonderful idea in his entire life.

Mick was still flicking through the daily accounts and just enjoying the quiet of his evening when the intercom suddenly crackled to life on his desk, startling him and causing him to knock over his whiskey glass, spilling the golden-brown liquid all over his mahogany desk.

As his heart rate settled down he realized that something was strange. All he could hear through the intercom was Melody's panicked, labored breathing; not the usual calm and concise words he had hired her for. Somepony in the background was talking, a deep voice whose words he couldn't make out.

"O-okay," Mick heard Melody say quietly, her distress clear. "M-Mr. Magnet? You h-have a visitor," she stammered fearfully. Her tone had Mick's heart pounding fast again, the nervousness easily bleeding through in her words. His eyebrows shot high at the mention of a visitor; the building was supposed to be closed! Melody certainly would have turned any straggling employees away, that's why he kept her around so late.

Whoever this was had come through security.

"Who is it?" Mick asked, pressing the button for his own reply intercom.

"Why don't you go home for the evening?" Mick heard the stranger in the background say politely, the volume muffled by his distance from the intercom on Melody's desk.

"Y-yes sir," he heard Melody say, her voice equally far from the microphone and still sounding panicked.

"Melody, who is it?" Mick roared in frustration, unable to believe that whoever it was outside could have sent his loyal assistant away so easily.

The voice that buzzed back through was clear, crisp, and cold.

"This is Gearrick Tinkermane."

"I guess he doesn't want to see me," Gearrick muttered, forcing the large office doors open slowly with his magic. He'd tried to be civil and wait for Magnet to come out and see him, but if the shady businesspony wasn't coming out, then he was going in.

Despite his destruction of the lobby doors and security desk, he'd done his best so far to not wreck anything else. That incident had been necessary to scare the security guard, otherwise he might have had to actually hurt the poor fellow to get past him. Luckily the guard had been terrified enough to leave and hadn't even radioed for backup. Likely some other guards were downstairs investigating all the noise he had caused, but he had already been in the elevator and long gone.

Mick Magnet was sitting at his desk, his salt-and-pepper mane out of place from his shouting match with the intercom. Gearrick immediately noticed the shameful waste of whiskey splattered all over his desk, but put that to the back of his mind. There were more important things.

"Good evening, Mick," Gearrick said coldly.

"Good evening. You do realize business hours are closed?" Mick asked back, his voice clearly strained with stress. He was on the verge of shouting, Gearrick knew.

"I had an appointment" Gearrick said, unable to deny himself a chuckle.

"Oh really?" Mick asked through gritted teeth. "I didn't see you on my calendar."

"Don't you remember? You made that appointment yourself when you kidnapped Twilight," Gearrick said coldly, his face dead serious once more.

Gearrick smirked as he watched Mick go stiff, thinking that perhaps his gruff tone combined with his dire suit of armor had scared the poor unarmed bastard. His smirk faded though as Mick's next words came out, words that for the first time ever sounded sincerely terrified.

"D-did you say Twilight?" Mick asked, licking his dry lips and looking at Gearrick without really seeing him.

"That's right, Twilight Sparkle. Now tell me where she is!" Gearrick growled, not in the mood for games.

"Oh Celestia," Mick stammered, shaking gently. His eyes wavered badly, as if he simply couldn't find anything to focus on. He calmed down suddenly, taking heavy breaths and clutching a hoof to his chest. "N-no, it's fine... This can't reflect on the guild. Phyla assured me... Nopony knows."

"I know," Gearrick said fiercely. "Twilight knows."

Mick fixed a fierce glare on Gearrick. His eyes were no longer afraid, but infuriated. "Do you even know who that girl is?" Mick roared angrily, slamming a hoof down on his desk and rising out of his office chair.

Gearrick took a step back, confused and startled by his reaction. "Um... she's my marefriend?" he replied uncertainly, quirking and eyebrow.

"You idiot!" Mick roared, slashing a hoof through the air in his anger. "That mare is the personal student of Princess Celestia, and master of the Element of Magic!"

Gearrick's eyes went wide for a moment, then narrowed suspiciously. "So that's what you're really afraid of," Gearrick said quietly.

"What?" Mick asked, sweat beading on his brow as he realized that Gearrick, clever as he was, could certainly put two and two together.

"If word ever reached the Princess that your company... no, that you were involved in the kidnapping of her personal student, banished to the moon would be a light sentence. You could probably weasel your way out of charges of cheating with the contest or swindling non-guild engineers..." Gearrick kept talking, but Mick's shaking lips let out a single, hushed word.

"Stop..."

"But you wouldn't be tried in the court of Manehattan. You would be sentenced directly by Celestia..." Gearrick continued.

"Stop!" Mick hissed.

"Your business would be ruined, and a whole hell of a lot of good that steamtech degree you've always been waving in my face for the last two years would do you then!" Gearrick finished.

"I said stop!" Mick roared, slamming his hooves down on the sturdy desk. He was breathing heavily, looking only at his hooves and not at Gearrick. "If I had known... It was all Phyla's idea. If I had known I never would have let her..." he gasped, his words disjointed.

"But you did let her," Gearrick growled, the rings springing to life at his hooves, buzzing with electricity. "You're going to tell me where I can find her. Do that and maybe the Princess will go easy on you for helping me get her back. If you're lucky, I'll go easy on you too. This 'Phyla' is the one I'm really after" Gearrick offered. Doubtless Mick would still be arrested and expelled from the Gearbox Guild, but that wasn't so bad compared to what could happen if he tried to run; or worse, fight Gearrick.

"The Princess wouldn't know a god-damned thing if I took care of you!" Mick growled, his disheveled mane swishing violently as his eyes snapped back to Gearrick. "Phyla's working on her own, and you're the only one who knows she had my permission to act the way she did. You're the only one who sees her connection to the guild! Even Phyla would deny it if she were caught, and without hearing what you've heard, Twilight wouldn't have any proof to bring me down..." Mick stopped, his furious glare dissolving suddenly.

He laughed, cackling madly. "No... nopony knows but you!" he cried between his mad laughs. "What a simple equation! To solve for everything else, I just have to subtract you from it!"

Gearrick didn't like the mad laughter or the matching look in Magnet's eyes. He took another step back as the clearly insane CEO tipped over his desk lamp. The lamp didn't fall to the floor, like physics would have demanded, but hung off the edge of the desk, revealing a hinge and a previously-hidden button.

Mick pressed it and the desk rocketed a few feet away from him. The sound of gears and a blue light emanated from behind the desk, and Gearrick clenched his teeth as he realized his new weapon would get a thorough testing much sooner than he had hoped.

A second of the electromagnetic suits rose up from the floor, and all the while Mick just laughed.

"Another one?" Gearrick whispered to himself in disbelief.

The suit lit up suddenly and emitted a high-pitched whine, catching Gearrick by surprise. His own metal armor was easily picked up and flung by the field it emitted, slamming him into a bookshelf to his side.

He retrieved himself from the wrecked shelves and piles of books, shaking off the impact. So, the suit could work without an operator, or at least to some degree. He hadn't though of that.

It wouldn't go without an operator for long though, for Mick was utilizing the surprise attack to climb into the suit. By the time Gearrick was back on his hooves, Mick was in it, his maniacal laughter tinged with the metallic sound of speakers.

"You didn't honestly think I only had one Markiver device, did you?" he asked smugly, though his confident tone was awash with the shakiness of insanity.

Gearrick sighed, steadying himself on his hooves and preparing for the fight he had hoped not to have. "No, I didn't think you only had one... but you're about to."

Gearrick grunted with pain as Mick slammed him again into the heavy bronze door of his office before dropping him. He had counted on his enemy's suit being more powerful, but he hadn't realized just how much it would be. The difference in the amount of energy their two inventions could control was staggering.

Scientifically though it made sense. The Markiver device, from what little Gearrick understood of it, was designed to work with electromagnetic fields. Projecting a field strong enough to not only manipulate an object, but manipulate it with precision, would require an absurd amount of energy. It was, for all intents and purposes, the technological equivalent of magic.

It could levitate objects, crush them or throw them, even bend light into a laser and fire it if the field were sufficiently powerful. Gearrick knew that whatever basic magic could do, that suit could likely replicate it with electromagnetism. Few ponies knew it, but even the inexplicable and powerful force of magic still worked within the confines of physics. A laser was just highly condensed photons, a barrier simply a static field that bound the particles in the air into a rigid form. In reality most of these things could easily be duplicated with electricity. In magic, spells required energy, and so would the Markiver device.

Gearrick had been banking on the fact that the suit would not be able to sustain its high energy use for long and eventually run out. Unfortunately, a quick glance at the floor showed that the device was wired in for the time being.

"What's the matter? Not half the tinker I am?" Mick taunted as Gearrick pulled himself back to his hooves for the second time.

"I'm ten times the tinker you are," he grunted, cracking his neck to ease the pain in his back from the impact.

The banter infuriated Mick, and so the suit emitted a high-pitched sound for just a brief moment before another EM field tried to pick Gearrick up and throw him. It got as far as lifting him from the ground before Gearrick raised his left hoof and pointed it at Mick, the solitary ring there spinning like mad.

The field stopped suddenly, dropping him on the floor. He sighed with relief, glad to find that much had worked, but dismayed to see the reading of the modified pressure gauge on his left shoulder. He had tampered with it enough to get it to read electrical energy instead, and the simple negation of an EM field had cost his suit far too much.

"What?" Mick hissed, dismayed to see his simple trick failing. "How?"

"Simple," Gearrick muttered. "An EM field is polar, just like a regular magnet. All I have to do is be able to emit a field with opposite poles."

"Why you little..." Mick growled, grinding his teeth. "Don't you talk down to me!" he roared, the room shuddering as anything with metal attached to it slowly pulled nearer to Mick; Gearrick included.

Various metal objects suddenly became projectiles, rocketing through the air towards Gearrick and his invention. The field pulling Gearrick had stopped in order for Magnet to control the myriad metallic objects he was now flinging violently about. Free of the restricting aura, Gearrick did his best to dodge everything from a paperweight to a globe. Even a few books with brass binding labels came fluttering at him, spewing pages in their wake from the wind generated by the force of their motion.

A few books hit him, not that they much mattered; Gearrick was more concerned with dodging the paperweight, which kept coming back around for another pass whenever he lost track of it. The globe managed to shatter itself after a very close call with it, but as he had both suspected and feared, the metal portions came back around for another swing.

The room was a whirlwind of metal objects, all trying their damnedest to slam into him. He couldn't hope to negate a field of this magnitude even if it was mono-directional, but it was far too complicated for such a thing to work anyways. To be moving objects like that the suit would have to constantly readjust the poles of its current field, changing the direction every object was moving second by second. It would be too hard to predict and counteract.

Electromagnetism wasn't what his own suit was designed for anyways; he could do a few small things with it, but his trick was something entirely different, something even the strongest EM fields would have a hard time manipulating.

Sound.

Even if Mick made a barrier, the sound wave would only transfer even more clearly through the more tightly-packed air particles. Unless Mick was able to figure out precisely what his own weapon did, Gearrick doubted he would ever be able to stop it. He would never get the chance to see it in action, or hear it. Sound was invisible, and not always audible.

Hundreds of thousands of frequencies existed outside the normal pony's range of hearing, and they could affect matter in magnificent and powerful ways. His suit was based on the simple principle that sound, if its frequency and magnitude were just right, could break even the sturdiest of things.

The Resonance Amplification Device was the Markiver Device's worst nightmare.

The heavy, bronze-inlaid desk suddenly pried itself from its hidden track in the floor with a horrible metallic screech. All the other metallic objects whirling about dropped as Mick focused his magnetic abilities on the mammoth chunk of wood and metal, lifting it high over his head.

"Die, Tinkermane!" He roared, the desk rocketing for Gearrick with all the force of the Nomad itself, and then some.

Time seemed to slow down as adrenaline in his system prepared him to either flee the oncoming desk, or do something to stop it. The decision was simplified by the realization that there was nowhere to run, as Gearrick had dodged himself straight into a corner; not surprising considering it would have left fewer sides for things to fly at him from during the metal maelstrom.

Scowling in determination, Gearrick lifted his right hoof and prepared to put his device to the test. The first ring on his right hoof spun, emitting a low-frequency sound pulse that Gearrick couldn't even hear. That pulse echoed off of the oncoming desk at the speed of sound, and the second ring spun the opposite direction, sensing the change in frequency of the echoed wave.

His suit reacted instantly, emitting the automatically calculated resonant frequency of the desk. As if he had been wielding a sword of legend, the desk split straight down the middle, and then blew apart, just in time for the pieces to part ahead of Gearrick's upraised hoof, missing him completely.

Mick wouldn't have been able to see or hear what Gearrick had done to destroy the desk, and so he simply resorted to cursing at his latest failure. Keeping an ear out for the high-pitched sound that would signal the next incoming electromagnetic barrage, Gearrick checked his energy meter.

Luckily it didn't seem like the frequency detector or emitter required much in the way of electricity, but just moving around in the suit used quite a bit of energy, especially dodging like he had been. He was already below a half, and once the capacitors got that low, they would only bleed off all the faster.

On came the whining, and Gearrick quickly blasted the incoming office chair and a heftier piece of the shattered desk into tiny bits. A piece of the chair kept on coming though, and as Gearrick moved to dodge, the gears that helped aid the movement of his left foreleg locked up, groaning against a small piece of metal caught between them.

Gearrick yanked the piece of metal out with his magic, but realized a little too late that he should have redirected the incoming chunk of chair beforehoof as it crashed into him. The impact threw him into the wall directly behind him, and bent one of the plates on his left shoulder.

He hurried to his hooves, but cried out in pain as the bent plate gashed the skin underneath it. It didn't restrict the movement of the suit, but any motion with that leg was sure to cut him again.

Groaning with the effort, Gearrick focused his magic on the bronze plate. It was solid, but where it had bent was thin, and so he tugged as hard as he could with his copper aura, bending it moment by moment until it no longer gouged his shoulder.

Panting from the pain of the injury and the magical strain, Gearrick turned his eyes back to the oddly silent Mick Magnet.

The pony simply stood there, grinning behind his blue-tinted face-plate, waiting for Gearrick to finish his repairs. He noted the blood dripping from the badly-bent shoulder plating and grinned. "Oh, I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?" he chuckled, the suit emitting another high-pitched whine.

"Cocky bastard," Gearrick groaned, blasting apart another piece of the desk. A beeping sound made him aware that his energy gauge was nearly empty. This constant defense was only wearing him down, whereas his enemy had an infinite supply of energy.

Gearrick's suit could pull the electrical energy out of anything it contacted, so long as it made contact long enough. It was how he had cut all of the power to the lamps outside the lobby, draining that system to charge his suit, pulling enough current to trigger the breakers.

With the desk and its lamp destroyed, the only remaining thing he could reach to pull electricity from was Magnet's invention itself. It would be risky to try and approach him in a metal suit, and Gearrick would quickly burn all of the remaining energy he had just trying to get there. What he needed was a distraction.

Focusing on Magnet's brightly glowing face-plate, an idea struck him. Before Mick could act again, Gearrick pointed his right hoof at the ceiling. The lights there shattered suddenly, raining tinkling glass down all across the room and dropping it into darkness, except for the pulsing blue light of Mick's suit.

Gearrick's red-tinted goggles had saved him this time; red light helped to preserve vision in the dark, and with Mick lit up like a torch it was easy for him to see. However, with his glowing face-plate Mick's vision was unable to adjust to the sudden darkness easily, and Gearrick was careful to ensure that the electric rings of his own suit were dark as he slowly crept his way into a more optimal position in the gloom.

Unable to see his enemy, Mick's suit pulsed again and again, emitting high-pitched whines as he blasted around with heavy EM fields at random. The office doors screeched as one such field tried to fold them in on themselves, and Gearrick was glad that such a crushing force hadn't been directed at him. It would have easily broken his legs and caved in his chest in the half-suit he was wearing.

It was only a matter of time, of course, before Mick eventually hit him, or started using push-and-pull fields that would affect the entire room. Gearrick didn't have the energy left to negate a complex field like that, so he would have to act quickly. Magnet's suit seemed to be limited as to how often it could emit a new field, though it could sustain or modify one it had already emitted for quite a while, as earlier with the flying metal problem. That high-pitched sound coupled with the delay probably meant that Mick's suit housed a series of capacitor banks to make itself tick, and that was something Gearrick could work with.

Timing it carefully, Gearrick raised his right hoof and let the rings charge up, lighting his new position behind Mick and to his left.

"Found you!" Mick roared, the suit emitting the high-pitched sound Gearrick had been waiting for.

His own suit emitted the exact same noise, the three rings on his right hoof spinning faster and faster, the noise growing in volume.

Mick's suit flickered, the lights flaring brightly for a moment. Suddenly one of his armor panels popped loudly and sparks flew from his shoulder, the lines of light in that section fading to nothing. The magnetic field he had been trying to project did little more than rattle the plating on Gearrick's armor.

Gearrick wasted no time as Mick looked over his damaged shoulder plate. He knew that the armor was far from disabled; he had only managed to pop a single capacitor bank at the most, and Mick was still plugged in. If he could get close enough, the fields emitted by the other suit would be less powerful, because Mick would risk affecting himself.

Gearrick closed the gap and punched with his left hoof, slamming it down on Mick's other shoulder, the one that was still lit. Sparks flared as the large ring on his left hoof spun, metal grinding on metal. The shoulder plating hummed loudly and suddenly the orange light of the sparks was mixed with the blue light of electricity.

Bolts of miniature lightning arced from the shoulder plating and into the ring on Gearrick's left hoof. He watched in satisfaction as the meter on his left shoulder started to rise, siphoning the electricity out of his enemy's armor by touch alone.

Mick growled and pushed at him with a new EM field, but again Gearrick pointed his right hoof and matched the sound of his suit, blowing out another bank of capacitors and halting the Markiver Device's progress for the moment.

Time was of the essence, and so Gearrick watched his energy meter like a hawk as he continued to draw energy from his foe. When the gauge finally read that it was full, he leapt back from Mick, the triangular wings flaring from his back and all four rings on his armor spinning like mad.

This was it, the last standoff; all of the energy his suit could muster would have to go into this offensive, Gearrick knew. Mick jabbed at him with an EM field, and at that exact second Gearrick fired.

The triangular wings on his back clicked and then rocked backwards, dragging Gearrick a full step with them as they produced a massive wave of low-frequency, high volume sound. Mick's magnetic field picked him up and threw him hard into the doors of the office, just as he had expected, knocking the wind from him.

His work was already done. The heavy wave of sound blasted into Mick, picking his suit up from the ground. The wires tethering it to the power system snapped, electricity arcing for a brief moment before the connection was fully severed.

Then the shock wave shattered the windows of Mick's office and propelled him through them, into the cold night air just below the Veil.

Gearrick gasped, struggling to his hooves and staggering to the shattered window as fast as he could. He had thrown the stallion out the fortieth floor window! Oh Celestia, he had killed him!

His heart stopped as he looked down to see Mick stuck to the side of the building. He was using magnetism to hold himself to the metal struts that helped the sturdy building stand so tall, but the blue lights on his suit were fading fast, and he was slowly sliding down the side of the building.

This was Gearrick's fault. With the capacitors he had popped now out of commission and the suit unplugged, Mick didn't have the energy he needed to climb back up; or hold himself steady for long.

He was diabolical, but Gearrick was no murderer.

Using his magic, Gearrick caught Mick just as the lighting on his suit gave out, the older Stallion crying out in horror as he fell a few short feet. But the copper glow of Gearrick's magic held Mick steady as he pulled the old stallion up the few yards he needed to set his trembling and now harmless adversary on the floor of the ruined office.

Both he and Mick were breathing hard and trembling with nerves. Still gasping for air, Mick finally spoke up.

"You... saved my life..." he panted, eyes closed behind the dim, glass screen of his powerless suit, his voice muffled without the speakers to amplify it.

"I... almost killed you..." Gearrick panted back. Many more minutes passed before their breathing had settled, but Mick wasn't finished.

"You certainly could have," the older pony said tiredly, the adrenaline in his system wearing off and leaving him fatigued. "But you didn't."

Gearrick's reply came short as he realized that Mick was right. He could have let him fall, left him to die. The very idea that that power had been in his hooves sickened him, and so his reply was heavy with growling determination. "I never would have. Hell, I didn't even mean to blow you out the window."

"I should have had the blinds down," Mick muttered, referring to the metal barrier that would block out all light and sound from the city below, a barrier that would have kept him from flying out into the night.

The mental image of simple, wooden household blinds caught Gearrick off guard. With his nerves still itching and that ridiculous picture in his head, he began to laugh. After only a moment's hesitation, Mick lost all composure as well, and joined him. The two of them laughed like stallions who had fought against death instead of each other, and emerged victorious.

As the laughing faded at last, Mick sighed in defeat. "You beat me. My greatest invention, and you managed to beat it with nothing but scraps."

Gearrick didn't know what to say, surprised by the sudden, simple statement.

"It took me years to design this suit... What's your secret?" Mick asked, still simply lying there and eying Gearrick's armor.

"Sound," Gearrick said quietly, unable to find the harm in telling him after a moment's deliberation. "Simple waves, transferred particle to particle. You were so focused on me that your suit's magnetism couldn't have stopped a sound wave. Even if it wasn't directed straight at me, a powerful EM field would have bent any light-based weapon, or any fields of my own, so those were out of the question. I had to improvise, and when I recalled the sound that your suit makes before emitting a field..."

Mick let out a single, disbelieving chuckle to himself. "Resonant frequencies... Like an opera singer breaking a wineglass with her voice. That's how you shattered the lights and destroyed my capacitors."

"And your security desk," Gearrick replied idly, finally leaning back to ease the various aches and pains of his body as his nerves settled some. He looked over the office his sound wave had obliterated, just as amazed by the power of his own invention as Mick was.

"High-frequency waves to disable my armor, and then a low-frequency wave to create air-pressure... Absolutely brilliant," Mick admitted, his tone sounding sad but sincere. "I never would have thought of it; it's no wonder you bested my Markiver device."

That statement shocked Gearrick. "Brilliant?" he asked quietly, unable to believe he was hearing those words from the same pony who had talked down to him at the last contest. The same pony who had barred his entry into the guild was now begrudgingly offering him praise.

"I've underestimated you too many times now. Too many to keep on believing that you're an idiot..." he grumbled. "It seems that the degree isn't everything after all. If I had it all to do over again, I'd have taken you more seriously, treated you with more respect. Then none of this would have happened," he sighed, the obvious consequences of his unlawful actions coming to the forefront of his mind.

Gearrick was honestly speechless, unable to comprehend the praise he was receiving. It was everything he had wanted to hear for the past two years; an admission from Mick Magnet, the stallion who had turned down and laughed at his guild application, that he was a great steamtech engineer. It certainly wasn't a friendly admission, but it was real.

"Are you saying that if you could do it all again, you'd let me into the guild?" Gearrick asked, needing to hear those words so that he could know beyond a doubt that it was exactly what Mick was saying.

"No," Mick said simply, but he didn't seem cold or spiteful; his tone remained neutral for that single word.

"No?" Gearrick asked, frustration growing in his voice. "Then what the hell are you saying?"

"You'd be wasted on the guild," Mick sighed. "I've met my match in you. I lead a life of double-talk and shady business, and that's what this company is founded on. I've never met another tinker like you, and having had my life flash before my eyes tonight, I can honestly say I'd rather not see you or anypony else make the mistakes I did, or be a part of this whole mess. I'll face my arrest like a stallion, and I'll admit to what I've done. I never meant to stoop so low, but I have; my pride got in the way."

"Mick..." Gearrick said quietly, unable to comprehend what the old stallion must have relived in that moment where he was certain he was going to die. Something horrible enough to make him rethink his life as he lay on the ruined floor of his once-proud top-floor office.

"Don't feel sorry for me, I did this to myself!" Mick growled suddenly, seeming much more his usual self as he lifted a hoof and shook it before letting it fall back down weakly. "I let Phyla's fast-talk get me into kidnapping, for Celestia's sake. There are no excuses; I even tried to kill you," he muttered. "And not even two days ago I was afraid that Phyla would be a killer, yet here I am much closer to the mark."

"Well, neither of us are killers, at least," Gearrick said coarsely, grunting as he forced himself up to his hooves. "If you're lucky, Princess Celestia will forgive you enough to give you a fair trial."

Their moment of mutual understanding, however brief and begrudging it had been, was finally past. There was too much bad blood to allow things to change between them, no matter how much it seemed that Mick had realized his failures. Gearrick was not in any hurry to forgive him, but he had already had his chance to judge Mick Magnet. It was the Princess' place to decide his fate now.

"If I'm lucky," Mick muttered, with an empty chuckle at the end.

"In exchange for saving your life, you owe me something," Gearrick said gruffly, the two of them enemies once more.

"On the corner of seventy-third and Oak Avenue. Our old offices used to be there, before the company really took off. If Phyla took her anywhere, that's where it would be. It's in the old business district, so I doubt anypony would have noticed; the perfect hiding place," Mick divulged quietly.

Gearrick was already heading for the door, not willing to waste anymore time. "I'll make sure some paramedics come looking for you... and the police."

"When you find Phyla, hit her once for me," Mick grumbled.

Gearrick stopped, scowling back over his shoulder. "I won't hit a mare, Mr. Magnet, but I bet Twilight will."