The Lost Crusades

by Sixes_And_Sevens

Rating: teen
Tags: Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Alternate Universe, Other, Button Mash, Cutie Mark Crusaders, Dinky Hooves, Rumble
Length: 25351

A series of stories featuring the Crusaders in an alternate universe where more of Ponyville's blank-flanks joined the CMC. Laughter, cuteness, and lots of tree sap are bound to ensue.

The Cutie Mark Crusaders: a team of three fillies seeking to find their cutie marks and their— Pardon me, four foals who— five? Six? Just how many Crusaders are there going to be? Will they manage to get their cutie marks any faster? And just how will this change the fate of the universe? Read on, for some of these questions to be answered. Or for general reasons of cuteness.

Part of the Wibblyverse continuity.

Published 2018-02-28 23:50:07 UTC
Last updated 2018-03-23 16:24:51 UTC

Cutie Mark Crusader Age Reversers

And yea, did the Unicorn Sweetie Belle declare, “Saith I, haveth thee a problem with they of flanks moste blank?”

Whereupon She who was marked with Spoon of Argent did reply, “The error is, verily, she is moste mundane and lacking in talent.”

And Lo, did the Unicorn speak the sooth upon her, saying, “Nay! The omen of blankness writ on yon flank doth proclaim that she may yet be anything she doth desire to become.”

“Verily,” agreed her companion the Pegasus. “The outcomes are myriad, aye, and unforeseeable.”

“She could yet become an Alchemy, or a Painter, or a Scribe. Yea, she could someday rule over this land.”

“Further, she has not fallen to Vanity and Cruelty, as have the two of you.”

And Lo, the Spoon of Argent and the Diadem of Diamond were blown back by the force of the words. And the Young Apple did rejoice, and Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo did rejoice with her.

And thus they were three.

***

“Oh no,” Lily whispered.

Carrot Top glanced up from her coffee. “Hm?”

“We need to hide! Now!”

The yellow mare sighed and set down the mug. “What is it this time, Lily?”

Her sister-in-law raised a hoof and pointed. “It’s… them.”

Carrot glanced over her shoulder and sighed again. The Cutie Mark Crusaders were walking down the high street. She glanced at her sister-in-law. “Lily, they aren’t that bad. They’re just a little… accident-prone.”

The florist went boneless and slid under the table. Carrot let out a deep sigh and took a sip of her drink. She had to admit, if only to herself, that the blonde mare did have something of a point. This time. The young trio had only been friends for a few days now, and in that time had managed to topple five outhouses, send four pegasi to the hospital, dig three massive holes, upset two beds of potatoes, and fill the mayor’s office with bees. Nopony was quite sure how, least of all the three fillies.

Despite these misgivings, Carrot knew that she had to at least try to prove her sister-in-law wrong. Aside from anything else, Lily simply had to learn that not everything in life was out to attack her. So she tugged the recalcitrant mare up from beneath the table. “Come on,” she said in her best no-nonsense voice, the one that always worked wonders on her dear Daisy. “Let’s go and see what they’re up to.”

“T-to what they are up,” Lily corrected.

“That doesn’t even sound a little bit right.”

“Y-you c-can’t end a sentence w-with ‘t-to.’”

“Yeah, yeah, a preposition isn’t something you can end a sentence with. Quit stalling, let’s go see what they’re doing.”

At Lily’s dubious expression, Carrot sighed. “If we know where they’re going, you’ll know where you shouldn’t hide.”

“O-oh! Why didn’t you say so?” The florist brightened and Carrot removed her hoof from the scruff of her neck.

Tossing a bag of bits on the table, the carrot farmer led the way over to the giggling group of fillies. “Well!” she said as the two groups converged. “You three certainly seem to be in a good mood this morning. What are you doing out and about so early on a Saturday?”

“Howdy, Miss Carrot Top!” Apple Bloom said, grinning broadly. “We’re off ta crusade fer cutie marks!”

“At the spa!” Sweetie added, grinning.

Scootaloo visibly flinched at that last remark and glanced around furtively. “Ix-nay on-yay elling-tay ere-whay e-way are-yay oing-gay! At-whay if-yay ainbow-Ray ash-Day inds-fay out-yay I-yay ied-tray o-tay et-gay a-yay utiemark-cay at-yay e-thay a-spay? Y-may ife-lay ill-way e-bay uined-ray!”

Sweetie blinked. “What was that about eBay? I didn’t know you wanted to buy anything.”

“Scoots, you feelin’ alright?” Bloom asked, concerned, reaching for the filly’s forehead.

Carrot chuckled. Well, it was hard to feel afraid of these three right now. Masterminds they weren’t. “Pig-asopolitan, Scootaloo? Maybe you three should try being codebreakers instead.”

The orange filly flushed, but the other two merely looked confused. “Never mind,” Carrot said. “What are you doing at the—”

“Don’t say it!”

“Ah-spay?” Carrot said, scarcely batting an eye.

“Well, I heard my sister say that their treatments take years off of ponies. That’s a good thing, right?”

The yellow mare cracked a grin. “So I’m told.”

Lily nodded quickly. She hadn’t said a word the entire time, merely staring at the three fillies in a way that implied that she thought they might at any given moment explode into demons from Tartarus or a stampede of rabbits. Carrot counted the fact that her sister-in-law was still conscious as a fairly massive win.

“So,” Sweetie continued, “we’re gonna see if they can teach us how to take years off a pony, and then we can use it on Apple Bloom’s granny to make her young again.”

“And mebbe on Diamond Tiara an’ Silver Spoon,” Bloom muttered. “Make ‘em too young fer cutie marks.”

“What was that?” Carrot asked.

“Nothin’, Miss Carrot!”

“Mhmm…” A mischievous sparkle danced in Carrot’s eye. “Well! I wish you girls good luck with that. Perhaps we should walk with you to the spa, I could certainly use a nice hoof-soak…”

The confused looks on the three little faces told Carrot all she needed to know. “She’s run away, hasn’t she.”

“...Yeah,” said Scootaloo, slightly awestruck. That flower mare had shifted into top speed faster even than anypony else she’d ever seen, Rainbow Dash included.

Carrot nodded once, philosophically. “Right. Well, I’d better go catch her before she does something phenomenally idiotic. See you fillies later.”

She trotted off. Apple Bloom let out a profound sigh of relief. “Wow. Ah was sure she’d heard my idea at th’ end there.”

Sweetie Belle tilted her head, frowning. “Do you think we could? Turn Diamond and Silver into babies, I mean.”

“Heck, yeah!” Scootaloo said, grinning broadly. “Those jerks ruined my Rainbow Dash scrapbook! They just shoved me down and it fell in the mud. And they laughed about it! They called me obsessed! They called me mad. They called me a chicken! Well, who’s mad now? Who’s mad now? AHAHAHAHA!!!” She threw her forelegs into the air.. Somewhere off in the distance, a grey pegasus botched a cloud landing, creating a rumble of thunder and burst of lightning.

Sweetie coughed. “So… is that a yes?”

Scootaloo dropped back down onto four hooves, her smile growing considerably less dangerous. “Eh, worth a shot. What’s the worst that could happen?”

***

Of all the most damning sentences that have ever been created, “What’s the worst that could happen?” is second only to “I’m sure she won’t mind.” Even in a nonfictional universe where narrative causality is slim-to-none at the best of times, it is a terrible idea to speak such a sentence aloud. The Probability Police enforce the Murphy Act of ‘41 with the sort of stern severity that makes suspension bridge cables look like boiled shoelaces.

In a universe where the laws of physics are casual suggestions and Causality has not so much taken a backseat to Coincidence as it has been roughly shoved into the boot of Coincidence’s sporty silver automobile, what Scootaloo said was almost akin to juggling three chainsaws, and then asking your assistant to throw you two more. Almost. Chainsaw juggling, at least, had a fairly predictable ending.

***

Sweetie looked at Apple Bloom. Bloom looked at Sweetie Belle. They smiled innocent smiles. “Heh, yeah, I guess you’re right,” Sweetie agreed.

“You know I am,” Scootaloo said. “Come on, let’s get going. The laws of time aren’t going to break themselves.”

In a fairly out-of-the-way section of the royal gardens, visited only by the princesses and overzealous field-trip planners, a stone statue of some bizarre chimeric beast seemed to grin slightly as the Crusaders made their way toward the Ponyville Day Spa.

***

Meanwhile, on the other side of town, a very different group of ponies were making their way towards the same destination as the three fillies. Three adults and one colt, all four of them pegasi. Two male, two female, three of them eager to reach their destination, one decidedly not. “Couldn’t I have just stayed home?” Rumble groaned, dragging his silver-grey hooves through the dirt.

“Nah,” said Cloudchaser, smirking. “We like to watch you suffer. Your whining is music to my ears. Please, don’t stop.”

Flitter nudged her twin sister sharply in the barrel. “Chase, quit it. Rumble, you can’t stay in your room all the time. It’s not healthy. You need to get outside every once in awhile, try to make some friends.”

The colt glowered at the two lilac mares. “And I’m going to do that at the spa?”

“You might,” said the fourth member of the group. “Practically everypony in town visits the spa every now and again.” Thunderlane smiled at his little brother. “Maybe you’ll meet a cute colt…”

Rumble’s glower only intensified. The charcoal stallion flinched back. “Ooor maybe you’ll make a friend like Flitter suggested!”

“Hmph.” Rumble glared down the street once more. The dust was settling in his coat, he was sure of it. Well. His brother and his brother’s marefriend and his brother’s marefriend’s sister might be able to lead him to bubbly fragrant water, but they couldn’t make him soak in it. “Why do I even need friends? I’ve got you guys.”

“Please. With friends like me, you don’t need enemies,” Cloudchaser said, rolling her eyes. “Case in point.”

She picked him up and started to noogie him, sending his dark mane splaying in all directions. “Ow! Cloudchaser, stop it! Cut it out!”

Flitter frowned. “Sis, quit. I mean it! How would you like it if I noogied you, huh?” She stood up on her back legs and began to do just that.

Thunderlane blinked. Very slowly and casually, he trotted over to a nearby newsstand, picked up a magazine, and shoved his face in it.

“Say uncle!” Cloudchaser shouted into Rumble’s ear.

“Say cousin!” Flitter insisted, rubbing her sister’s scalp harder.

“Uncle!” Rumble shouted, trying to pull free of the elder pegasus’s embrace. “Lemme go!”

“Cousin,” Cloudchaser sighed, releasing the colt, who tumbled to the dirt. Flitter gave her sister’s head one last firm rub, and then set back down on the ground.

The papermare tapped Thunderlane on the wing. “You gonna buy that?” she demanded, holding out a hoof.

“No, I just read it for the recipes,” the stallion replied, setting his less-than-cunning disguise back on the rack.

“Alright, then! You owe me a slice of cake!” the seller shouted at his retreating backside.

The stallion caught up to the motley trio that comprised the rest of his group. Flitter was grinning. Rumble was sulking. Cloudchaser was smirking. It was her ground state of being. She could be gasping out her dying words, and ponies would still wonder if she was being sarcastic.

In fairness, Thunderlane thought that her last words almost certainly would be something along the lines of “Oh, don’t worry about me. I’m fine,” or possibly, “Haven’t you heard? Arrow wounds are all the rage these days.”

Occasionally, he felt bad about thinking about his marefriend’s sister in that way, but it really wasn’t as though it was unjustified.

“Hey, dork, come on. This spa trip’s on you, remember?”

Thunderlane snorted. “Yeah, remind me why we agreed to that?”

“Because I’m such a nice pony that I let you two dingbat stallions stay in my house, and you’re just smart enough to pay tribute to my glory.”

“I pay my share of the rent.”

“Yeah, well, your name isn’t on the deed to the house. Come on. Every second we waste out here is another second I’m not getting a hooficure.” She turned tail and trotted down the road, muzzle in the air.

Thunderlane facehoofed and rubbed his forehead. Flitter sighed and leaned over to whisper in his ear those words she knew would bring him joy. “I’m gonna shove her into the mud bath,” she breathed before placing a light peck on his cheek.

The stallion smiled faintly and turned to kiss his marefriend on the nose. “Come on. She’s not the only one who wants to get made over today,” he said with a grin.

“Mm, I’m thinking blush, definitely, and a little mascara… hoof polish?”

“Maybe in gold,” Thunderlane said, thoughtfully. “Or violet.”

“Violet doesn’t go with your coat, Lane. Mahogany, maybe.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Thunderlane agreed. “C’mon, Rumble, move your butt. If I have to carry you, I’m gonna throw you in the steam room ‘til you look like a raisin.”

“Ugh,” the silvery colt muttered, rising to his hooves. “Fine. You guys can get prettied up, I’ll just wait in the waiting room for two hundred years.”

“Nopony’s stopping you from getting ‘prettied up,’” Flitter smiled. “You could come in with—”

“Pass,” Rumble said, sans emotion, trotting ahead of the cheerful couple. Thunderlane and Flitter, snickering, followed after him.

***

The bell above the door chimed pleasantly as three fillies walked into the spa. “Good morning!” the pink pony at the desk said in a pleasant accent, glancing up from her paperwork. “My name iz Aloe. May I help you?”

“Howdy, Miz Allo-wee,” Apple Bloom said with a big grin. “Ah’m Apple Bloom. These are mah friends, Scootaloo an’ Sweetie Belle. We’re the Cutie Mark Crusaders!”

Aloe grinned broadly. “Ah, yes, Miz Sweetie Belle. Your sister speaks of you often.”

“She does?” Sweetie gasped.

“And you, Miz Bloom, Meester Macintosh has also mentioned you.”

“Wow, really?” Bloom asked.

“Vell. Vhen he does talk, yes, you are a frequent subject. Zho, you are here for a spa day, yes?”

“Well, not ‘xactly,” Bloom admitted. “We’re tryin’ ta get our cutie marks as spa ponies, ya see.”

“Ah. And you vere vonderink eef you could vork here today, yes?”

“Um, yeah, I guess we could do that… or something…” Scootaloo muttered, staring down at her hooves.

Aloe tapper a hoof to her chin. “Erm. Vell, zere are vun or two ponies out sick today,” she said thoughtfully. “Yes. Yes, I see no reason vhy it should not be. Very vell. Come vith me, and I vill put you zree in uniforms for ze day.”

“CUTIE MARK CRUSADER SPA PONIES, YAY!”

Aloe blinked at their enthusiasm. Well, the enthusiasm of two of the three, anyway. The pegasus merely glanced around the room as though she were certain that she was being watched. “Yeah,” Scootaloo said weakly. “Yay.”

***

Apple Bloom poked at her mane with a hoof. “Are ya sure Ah cain’t wear mah bow?” she asked the pink mare.

Aloe nodded firmly. “Zis iz ze dress code, important for maintaining ze cleanliness of ze spa facility.”

“Well… alright.” She poked at her mane again. It was stiff with hair gel, and felt weird to touch. Sweetie Belle had needed an even thicker coat to plaster down her curls. Scootaloo had barely needed any, and the pegasus wasn’t sure if she felt relieved or worried about that.

“So,” Sweetie Belle said. “What do we do first, Miss Aloe?”

“Nnh.” The blue-maned mare looked them over, for the first time considering that it was possible that three blank-flanked fillies might possibly not be able to live up to the expectations of the Day Spa. Brief visions raced through her mind of overflowing baths, spilled shampoo, and spines contorted under the less-than-tender ministrations of untrained hooves.

On the other hoof, she had promised them a job for the day. “Miz Bloom and Miz Scutaloo, I vill haff you sort out ze incoming mane products. Miz Belle, you vill come viz me ent help viz ze laundry room.”

“Alright,” Apple Bloom said readily. “Where d’ya want us?”

“Zere is a large closet marked ‘Supplies,’” Aloe said, gesturing down the hall. “Zere is a large box inzide. I vant you to sort out ze shampoos, ze conditioners, ze dyes, ent zo forth. Can you do zat for me?”

“Huh!” Apple Bloom chuckled. “Well, now, Ah reckon we kin about pull that off, right, Scoots?”

“Uh?” Scootaloo blinked and stopped playing with a gel-encrusted lock of mane. “Oh, yeah. Sure.”

“Eggcellent!” The pink mare smiled broadly. “I vill leave you to it. Sveetie Belle, if you would follow me please?”

“Okay!” The little unicorn set off trotting quickly after the larger mare, quickly waving to her friends over her shoulder.

“Apple Bloom?”

“Yeah, Scootaloo?”

“I really don’t wanna have a cutie mark for working at a spa.”

“Well, ya say that now,” Apple Bloom said with a grin. “But Ah betcha y’all’re gonna change yer tune if ya actually get one.”

“Mmff.” The orange pegasus flattened her ears against her head.

Bloom paused. “R’member, we’re gonna be workin’ with dyes…”

“Yeah, so?”

“Well, if we found us a thingy a rainbow mane dye that broke on its way over here…” Bloom began.

Before she could finish, Scootaloo was already throwing open the door to the supply closet. Apple Bloom smirked, following her friend in. Maybe being a spa pony wasn’t exactly top of her list for potential cutie marks, but she’d be able to shut Diamond Tiara up with it but good.

***

Rumble slouched into the spa. It wasn’t exactly a matter of posture; he wasn’t standing exactly ramrod-straight, but neither was he notably slumped. It was far more a matter of attitude. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to talk to anypony. He certainly didn’t want a hooficure or massage. Waves of sulkiness sloughed off him like a mudslide of gloom.

Thunderlane gently bopped him in the side of the head. “Hey. You going to come and get made over, or are you going to sit out here and sulk for the next hour and a half?”

Instead of responding, the grey colt fixed his brother with a Look and flew over to sit in a nearby chair. The charcoal stallion’s smile faded, but he waved at his brother before trotting up to the desk beside Flitter and Cloudchaser. There was nopony on the other side. Flitter leaned over the counter, as though expecting a pony to be hiding beneath the desk. It wouldn’t have been the least appropriate response to being confronted with her sister.

Cloudchaser herself rapped on the counter. “Hey! Service!” she called waspishly.

Moments later, a breathless spa employee had arrived at the counter. “Good morning—” he said haltingly. “Sorry— I don’t know where Miss Aloe can have gone. Have you a reservation?”

Thunderlane shook his head. “Is anypony available for three hooficures?”

The pale purple stallion glanced down at an open book in front of him. “Yes— I think so,” he said. “Please— if you would— follow me?”

Rumble, scowling, watched the trio trot back into the spa. Then he picked up a hoofball magazine and flipped it open.

This meant that he didn’t notice the large cart of towels being pushed slowly down the hall by a pale green aura, followed closely by one of his classmates. Of course, even if he had, he probably wouldn’t have much cared. So there was that.

***

Sweetie Belle, meanwhile, was not having a good time. The cart full of dirty, wet towels was not at all as light as expected, and seemed to fight her every step of the way. She puffed and sweated her way down the hall, jaw clenched. The metal cart squeaked down the tiled hall, loaded high with filthy cloth as the cart wound down to the laundry room. Miss Aloe had shown her the basics of how to run a washing machine, and then sent the unicorn on her merry way. But the cart was so heavy, so hard to move, that Sweetie could scarcely even believe that it had wheels.

Up ahead came the sound of familiar voices, ringing down the hall. “Scootaloo, ya gotta sort all this stuff, not just put it in a great big pile.”

“No, I unpack, you sort them!”

“But I’m already unpackin’ ‘em!”

“So stop.”

“No! Come on, Scoots, it ain’t that hard…”

“Ugh. Fine.”

Sweetie peered in past the door. “Hi, girls.”

Bloom glanced away from the mountainous pile of supplies. “Oh, howdy there, Sweetie. How’s laundry comin’?”

“Not great. How’s sortin’ stuff?”

“Also not great,” Scootaloo said. “Some ponies just don’t know how to deal with irrigation.”

“Ah do so! We gotta do it all the time on th’ farm.”

“I think she meant ‘delegation,’” Sweetie corrected.

Scootaloo rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the large pile of bottles and boxes in the center of the room. “So, what’s the matter with yer job?” Bloom asked, poking her nose out into the hallway.

“The cart is so heavy! It feels like I’m trying to drag along all of Rarity’s suitcases at once.”

“Hm,” said Bloom. She glanced the cart up and down. She tapped gently at its side. She nudged it with a forehoof. “Ah think Ah see yer problem.”

“Really? What is it?”

The yellow filly kicked at a metal toggle, and it flew back with a pop. “Ya had th’ brakes on.”

“Oh.” Sweetie blushed. “Oops. Thanks, Apple Bloom.”

“No problem,” Bloom said, leaning back against the cart. A moment later, she toppled over backwards as the trolley began to roll down the hall. “Maybe problem,” she muttered.

“Yes problem!” Sweetie shrieked. “Follow that cart!”

She took off down the hall, Bloom in hot pursuit.

Scootaloo glanced backwards. She was alone at last, free to search for that bottle of rainbow dye. She gazed up eagerly at the pile of cosmetics. Then, she bit back a groan when she realized that in order to find anything in that pile, she’d have to sort all of it. “Life, you are a heartless mistress,” the filly grumbled as she took the first bottles off the stack.

***

Rumble shifted awkwardly in his seat. The hoofball magazine sat, half-crumpled, in his lap as he gnawed at his lower lip. He needed to find a bathroom. Now. The colt glanced around the room, but there were no doors helpfully labeled with a toilet.

On the one hoof, if he left, Thunderlane might find out that he’d gone out of the waiting area, and he and Flitter would panic. Worse still, they’d know he hadn’t been sitting there, completely bored, for the last hour, and that wasn’t something Rumble was prepared to face.

On the other hoof, he also really didn’t want them all to come out to see him squirming in place like a toddler. And he really needed to go.

Fine. He’d risk it. He’d run into the spa and try not to get any beautifying stuff on him, find a bathroom that didn’t smell of lilac or lavender or whatever they used to hypnotize ponies into getting a makeover, and then run back out again. He shoved the magazine roughly back onto the table and made a beeline for the door. The stallion at the desk frowned. “Do you have an appointment?” he asked curtly.

Rumble glanced up. “Uh, no.”

The stallion just pointed back to the row of chairs on the wall.

There were a number of reasonable response to this. Topping the list would be explaining the need for a bathroom, receiving an apology, and then continuing on. Following that would probably just be going outside and finding a hedge. What Rumble did next was not on the list.

The colt made a rude gesture with his wing, slammed the door open, and ran down the hall. “Try to stop me, you greasy-maned jerk!”

There was a moment’s silence, and then the jerk tried doing exactly that, slamming open the door and running down the hall after the pegasus.

***

Sweetie shoved the cart into the laundry room at last, Apple Bloom at her side. Both fillies were out of breath from the exertion, and Sweetie flopped to the ground. She glanced up. “Mark?” she panted.

“Uh-uh,” Bloom replied. “Me?”

“No,” Sweetie sighed. “Still, we’d better keep going, or Miss Aloe will get upset.

“Yeah, sure. How’d’ya operate one a’ these doohickeys, anyhow?”

Sweetie pulled herself back to her hooves. “You put the towels in the hatch at the top with, um, two packets of laundry… gel… stuff. The ones that look delicious, but are actually soap.”

“Delicious?”

“Well, kinda.”

“Never heard such talk in mah life,” said Bloom, tossing in a pair of pods, followed by a clump of dirty towels. “How many pods did ya say it was?” she asked, leaning over to grab another bunch of towels.

“Two,” said Sweetie, levitating one in as she climbed up on top of the washing machine. “Or was it three?”

Bloom tossed in another load of towels. “Better do three if ya ain’t sure. Ain’t like they’re gonna get too clean.” She tossed in another pod, then a layer of towels.

Sweetie glanced in. “Good point,” she agreed, levitating in two more. Then, she frowned. Hadn’t she put in one already? She stuffed another wad of towels over the top, followed by another pod.

Bloom stuffed in the last of the towels. “There, that oughta do it,” she said, satisfied.

“Wait!” Sweetie said. “I just remembered, Miss Aloe said the pods were meant to go on top of the towels!”

The yellow filly frowned. “Hm. Well, shoot. Ah guess we’ll just hafta put three more on top.”

“That seems kind of wasteful.”

“Look at it this way, Ah bet these towels ain’t never been as clean as they’re about ta be!”

“That’s true,” Sweetie agreed, putting three more pods in. They rolled down the mountain of towels into the shadows as the little unicorn leapt back to the ground.

Apple Bloom glanced away from the controls long enough to snatch out three pods and chuck them into the machine, slamming the lid after. “Now what?”

“Oh, right. Um, warm cycle for thirty minutes, then hit start.”

Bloom turned a few knobs, then nodded and pressed a big green button. There was a sloshing, gurgling noise as the machine started up. “Woo-hoo! We did it!” she cheered.

“Yay! Mark check!”

Both fillies turned to peer anxiously at their flanks. “Aw…” Bloom sighed. “Well, Ah can't say Ah much wanted a cutie mark in doin’ laundry anyhow.”

“Me neither,” Sweetie sighed. “Rarity makes me do too many chores as it is.”

“Oh, well. Let's go help Scoots sort all them bottles out, an’ then we’ll go do somethin’ else.”

“Okay,” Sweetie agreed, swinging open the door. The duo trotted down the hall, oblivious to the foam that had begun to seep through the lid of the washing machine.

***

Rumble’s first thought was, holy mother of rut, he’s actually chasing me.

His second thought was, Tartarus, he’s pretty fast for somepony who sits at a desk all day.

The colt could outrun him for a bit, but Celestia knew how long that would last. He had to hide somewhere, lose the tail. Preferably somewhere with a toilet. He rounded a corner. An open door! He zipped inside and pressed himself against the wall. Hoofbeats pounded down the hall and soon faded away. The pegasus let out a sigh of relief. “Hey.”

And there came the tension again. For the first time, Rumble actually registered his surroundings. He was in a closet — the irony wasn't lost on him — a fairly big one. Much of the floor, however, was taken up by bottles and bottles of mane and coat care products. And staring at him from atop a mountain of the stuff was an orange pegasus with a dark pink mane. “Rumble, right?”

“Uh, yeah. Hi,” he struggled to remember her name, “Sooty.”

She blinked. “Scootaloo.”

“Right, sure.” He crossed his legs, trying desperately to look casual. “Uh, what are you doing here?”

“Crusading,” Scootaloo said with slight distaste. “Sort of. I don't want a sissy spa mark or anything, but it was Sweetie’s turn to choose.”

“Hah,” Rumble said, shifting. “I'm not here by choice either. My brother wanted to get his hooves done, and Flitter and Cloudchaser wanted facials. So I had to come along.”

“Stinks,” Scootaloo observed. “Why was that guy chasing you?”

“I — uh —” he gave up. There was a time and a place for dignity, and this was neither. “Where's the bathroom?”

Scootaloo rolled her eyes and set down the bottle she was holding. “Follow me.”

Rumble let out another sigh of relief and hastily scampered after the other pegasus.

***

Thunderlane blinked a couple times to look at himself in the mirror. Faint blue-white eyeshadow and rich, dark mascara ringed the reflection’s eyes. He grinned. “Lotus. You are an artist.”

The blue mare grinned slightly. “Vell, I do my best. Ent it helps to have such a good kinvas.”

“You’re making me blush,” the stallion said, rising from his chair. His hooves had been painted to match the shade of the eye shadow, which was meant to match his mane. Flitter clapped, smiling brightly. “Yes, fine, you’re pretty, let's go,” Cloudchaser said, rolling her eyes.

“Careful, sis. You almost sounded like Rumble there,” Flitter said, nudging Cloudchaser in the wing.

“Yeah, talking of, we’d better go get him,” Thunderlane said. “How long have we been here? An hour? Hour and a half?”

“Around that, yeah,” Cloudchaser agreed. “The runt must’ve read every magazine in the waiting room.”

“Maybe he’s been forced to actually talk with somepony,” Flitter joked.

Thunderlane frowned. “I wouldn’t mind it if he did,” he said meditatively. “But I’m not going to push him into anything. I hope you two won’t, either.”

He reached for the door handle. “He’ll come out of his shell in time, but you both know why he’s not staying at my parents’ place anymore.”

There was a brief silence as the stallion pushed open the door. It was promptly shattered as he was immediately buried beneath a mountain of suds. Flitter screamed slightly, beating her wings as she fell backwards in shock. Cloudchaser merely froze, incapable of recognizing what it was she was seeing. To her startled eyes, it looked as though the other pegasus had been eaten by a ghost.

Lotus’ perfect brow furrowed. Her mouth curled into a scowl. She knew who was to blame for this. She knew the only pony who could be to blame for this. “ALOE!” she screamed. “VHAT ze RUT did you do to ze VASHING MACHINES?”

***

Scootaloo sat outside the spa bathroom, unutterably bored. She banged a hoof on the door. “You almost done in there?”

“Go away!” Rumble shouted. “I’ve got a nervous bladder!”

The filly rolled her eyes, but stopped midway through when she caught sight of a pair of familiar figures trotting towards her. “Oh, hi, girls.”

“Howdy, Scoots. Waitin’ in line?”

“Nah. Standing guard. Rumble’s in there, and he’s acting really cagey about why he was being chased through the spa, so I want to get the whole story.”

“Oh.” Sweetie thought about this, then promptly moved on to another,, far more important matter. “So didja get your cutie mark?”

“Nah,” Scootaloo said, flicking her tail to show her flank. “You?”

“Nope,” Bloom replied, taking a seat next to the pegasus.

“No,” Sweetie sighed, slumping against the opposite wall.

“This sucks,” Scootaloo said. “I didn’t even find any rainbow dye.”

“Didja finish lookin’ through all them bottles?” Bloom asked, impressed.

“No, Rumble interrupted.”

“Excuse me, I’m sure!” the colt shouted.

“Shut up and pee,” Scootaloo shouted back.

Rumble muttered something, but kept it to himself. Apple Bloom sighed. “Well, once we’ve finished sortin’ all them bottles, Ah guess we’d best move on ta summat else. Ideas?”

“Treasure hunting!” Scootaloo said

“Butterfly catching!”

“Kite-flying!”

“Ooh, ooh, what if we went to the moon?”

There was contemplative silence. The idea had merit. Nopony had been to the moon except Luna, and she was a princess. More importantly, she was Nightmare Moon. The sheer badass effrontery of the notion stunned the trio into silence. “We couldn’t,” said Bloom. “Could we?”

Scootaloo was staring up at the ceiling, thoughtful. “We’d just have to fly really high, wouldn’t we? Higher than anypony else ever has! Aw, yeah, that’d be so cool…”

“Space has no air,” Rumble called out.

“I know that!” Sweetie said. “But we could take up some air-bubble charms and breathe that!”

“Yeah, but how will you fly without air?”

“Uh, space doesn’t have gravity, either,” Bloom pointed out.

There was a sigh, then a flush, followed by the sound of running water. Rumble shoved open the bathroom door. “Okay, no,” he said. “Literally nopony in history has ever gotten to the moon except for one princess who got sent there for time-out.”

“Hey, that’s an idea!” Sweetie said brightly. “We could just get into so much trouble that Princess Celestia will have to send us to the moon!”

Apple Bloom went a funny color. “Uh, Ah dunno ‘bout that, Sweetie…”

“How would we do it?” Scootaloo asked eagerly.

“Hm,” said Sweetie rubbing her chin. “We could be… Cutie Mark Crusader Nightmares!”

“Some might argue that you already are,” Rumble huffed. “Your little club’s only been around for a week, and you’ve already taken out a bridge, knocked down three trees, released a plague of bees, and taken more than one dessert at a fancy party.”

Scootaloo stared at the colt oddly. “Uh… how did you know all of that? Have you been watching us?”

“Wha — NO!” Rumble replied, flushing. “Why would I do that?”

“I’m told we’re very interesting,” Sweetie Belle said, striking a pose that was probably meant to be dramatic, hoof covering her eyes, head and body thrown back like she was sitting on a chaise longue, but ended up making her look like a dying fish.

“I heard it from Thunderlane and the twins,” Rumble said stubbornly.

Apple Bloom leaned over and peered at him. “Ya know, you ain’t got a cutie mark yet, neither.”

Sweetie Belle dropped her hoof. “Wait. A colt in the Crusaders? Is that allowed? Can we do that?”

Scootaloo shrugged. “Why not?”

“All in favor of lettin’ in colts?”

“Aye.”

“Aye.”

“Aye.”

Rumble rubbed his forehead with a hoof. “Ai-yi-yi,” he muttered.

Bloom looked at the silver colt. “Well? How ‘bout it, Rumble? Ya interested?”

“Oh, so I do get a say in this,” he said drily. “Well, I say—”

He paused suddenly, eyes wide. “I say, there’s a mountain of bubbles coming right for us!” he said.

“Oh, come on,” Scootaloo said, rolling her eyes. “If you don’t wanna join, just say so.”

“Uh, Scootaloo?” Sweetie said, looking past the pegasus filly.

“I mean, we aren’t gonna force you or anything. It just seemed like a nice idea,” Scootaloo continued, getting deeper into her rant. “You always look so lonely!”

“Scootaloo…” Apple Bloom said, warningly.

“Wait, are you saying you’re just doing this out of pity?” Rumble asked, eyes flashing.

“Rumble!” Bloom said, even more warningly.

“Scootaloo! Behind you!” Sweetie yelled.

“Alright, what?” the orange filly snapped, glancing behind her. Then she did a double take. A wall of soap suds was bearing down on them all. “Oh. That.”

“Into the bathroom,” Rumble said, kicking open the door. He and the trio of fillies hurried in. The foam tried to follow them, but Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle shoved it closed behind them, and Scootaloo slid the lock into place.

“Okay,” said Scootaloo calmly. “I’m gonna regret asking, but what in Tartarus was that?”

Sweetie glanced guiltily at Apple Bloom. “I… might have put in too many detergent pods.”

Bloom’s eyes turned to orange pinpricks. “Wait. Ah thought Ah was puttin’ in them pods.”

Scootaloo let out a noise of faint pain and slumped against the sink. Rumble flared his nostrils and took in a long breath. “Okay. Fine. Now what?”

Sweetie considered. “I spy with my little eye…”

“No,” Scootaloo said flatly.

Bloom glanced from one foal to the next, calculating. “How’re y’all at swimmin’?”

“I don’t think so,” Sweetie said nervously.

Rumble stared at the toilet, brow furrowed. “Hm,” he said.

Bloom looked at him askance, then followed his gaze. “Oh. Ohhh…”

***

The suds were rising rapidly now, leaving Thunderlane, Cloudchaser, Flitter, and Lotus standing atop a counter. The stallion was sopping and covered in froth, his carefully applied makeup replaced with a bubbly beard, stained black with run mascara. “Well,” he said, gazing into the rising bubbles. “If this is it, Flitter, I want you to know that I love you, and that I’d kiss you right now, except then you’d get soap in your mouth.”

The seafoam-maned mare nodded and quietly pulled her coltfriend in for a hug. “Lotus,” Thunderlane continued, “your spa is fantastic, and you’re a great masseuse and makeup artist.”

“Think you,” the blue-maned mare said, smiling tautly.

“And Cloudchaser, I drank the last of the orange juice this morning.”

“You son of a bitch.”

“I already knew you met my mother,” Thunderlane said drily, seconds before Cloudchaser shoved him into the rising tide of bubbles.

“Cloudy! How could you?” Flitter gasped, tears welling in her eyes.

“Ugh, chill out. He can stand up in that and it won’t even cover his cutie mark. Look, here he comes now.”

Indeed, up came the stallion, coughing and spitting out bubbles. He scowled at the white-maned mare, who grinned back tauntingly. He trudged his way back to the counter, pausing once or twice to shake some foam out of his ears. “I swear, I’m gonna find the mud bath under all this stuff and drop you in it,” he groused, heaving himself back up on the counter.

“Yeah, sure. S’not like I’ll be dirty for long in all this.” She waited until he was standing again, then quickly shoved him into the drink once more.

“Cloudchaser!” Flitter said, frowning.

Splash! Went Flitter, into the suds. She came up a few moments later, spluttering with impotent shock and fury as Cloudchaser laughed.

Splash! Went Cloudchaser. The other two pegasi looked up. Lotus looked very smug as the pegasus resurfaced, growling. “Oh, you’re for it now.”

Lotus regarded her thoughtfully, then sprang into the wash herself, splattering the others with laundry soap suds. Thunderlane broke down into laughter, while Flitter had already succumbed to the giggles. Cloudchaser glowered at them all and opened her mouth to say something when Lotus popped up once again, brow wrinkled in confusion. “Ze bubbles are flowing away,” she said.

The laughter broke down. “Maybe somepony opened the front door?” Flitter suggested.

“In that case, let’s go with the flow and blow this pop stand,” Cloudchaser said, setting off towards the hallway.

Lotus sighed. “Zis is not goink to be an easy clean-up,” she said.

Thunderlane shrugged. “Well, it’ll take awhile to dry, but I’ll bet you anything the spa’s going to be cleaner than it was on opening day by the time the bubbles are gone.”

The current was growing stronger now, tugging at the party’s hooves and propelling them forwards. Ahead, they could see other patrons heading in the same direction. Lotus frowned. “Zis is not ze way to ze door.”

A soft roaring noise echoed from up ahead. Flitter tried to stop, but her hooves had no purchase on the wet tile and no good way to fight back against the strong current. Behind her, the others were having similar problems, Thunderlane struggling and splashing about to keep from tipping and falling flat on his face. “Then where are we heading?” he asked.

Lotus looked befuddled. “Ze washroom!”

The soapy water was forming a whirlpool, now, spinning faster and faster. Thunderlane shoved through the chaotic throng of ponies around the door. Then he saw them. Two foals standing atop the toilet cistern, one in the sink, one clutching onto the hoofdryer for dear life. He recognized them, naturally. Three Cutie Mark Crusaders, at the epicenter of a disaster, was becoming a regular sight in Ponyville. The fourth figure, though, shocked him.

Rumble, with other foals his age. Rumble, smiling. Rumble, laughing for the first time in over a month. Laughing since the last time he’d seen his parents. A big, goofy grin crossed the stallion’s face as he watched his brother break out of his shell.

Then, he registered exactly what was going on. The whirlpool was centered over the commode. The suds were getting flushed away! He turned and pushed off the wall, half-trotting and half-paddling back to the others. “Lotus, do you think you could pull the plugs on all the baths?”

She looked perplexed for the space of a moment, then realized what must be happening. She nodded once, then waved to a pair of spa employees to follow her. As the blue mare trotted off, Thunderlane grinned dopily at the twins. “He’s smiling,” he whispered. “Celestia’s sun, he’s smiling.”

Flitter’s eyes went round and wobbly. Cloudchaser blinked a couple of times, then turned away, muttering something about getting soap in her eyes. Thunderlane just continued to beam, overjoyed despite his running mascara. “He’s got friends,” he whispered.

***

The water sunk down gradually, and soon, even the Crusaders could reach the floor without holding their breath. Rumble hopped down first, still grinning vaguely at nothing. Scootaloo half-fluttered, half-plummeted to the ground, landing gingerly on the slippery tile. “That was awesome,” she enthused.

“...Sure,” Sweetie said, wringing out her tail. Apple Bloom shook her head violently, spraying water across the room. It made little difference; the walls were dripping as it was.

One by one, they filed out the door. Rumble slipped a bit on the sopping tile, but righted himself. Scootaloo held on to Sweetie for support as the four made their way to the waiting room. “So, what’d’ya say?” Bloom asked brightly, looking at Rumble. “Wanna be a Crusader?”

The grey colt’s smile slipped as he thought about it. They seemed nice, and they didn’t seem averse to a bit of roughhousing. But he couldn’t be sure. He barely knew them! He needed a sign, some way to decide…

“Hey, bro!”

Rumble’s head jerked up. Thunderlane was grinning at him. Instantly suspicious, Rumble raised a hoof in greeting. “Hey. What’s up?”

“Not us!” Cloudchaser sniped, standing up a potted plant.

Thunderlane’s smile drooped. “Uh, yeah. We’re kind of too waterlogged to fly home right now, so we’re going to help dry off the spa again. Come and help!” He glanced behind Rumble and lowered his voice a tad. “Unless, of course, you’d rather go play with your new friends.”

Rumble glanced back. The three fillies beamed sweetly at him. He was being shamelessly manipulated, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to care. A sign he wanted, a sign he got. “Sorry, bro. Gotta go get initiated into the Crusade.”

“““ALL RIGHT!””” three voices shouted as one. Thunderlane smiled, and Rumble, ever-so-slightly, smiled back.

Then his face fell as he felt a hoof wrap around his barrel. He shook it off quickly and spun about in surprise to look at Apple Bloom’s earnest, grinning face. “C’mon! We gotta getcha ready fer yer initiation.”

“Wait, you actually have an initiation?”

“Well, no, but we all thought it was a great idea! C’mon!”

“I’ve already started writing the pledge!” Scootaloo shouted.

“I’ll get some tree sap to anoint him!” Sweetie called gleefully, already halfway out the door.

As he was dragged out of the spa by his tail, Rumble began to question exactly what he’d gotten into… and also, where all that water had drained to.

***

Carrot trotted up to Lily’s side as the florist stared out over the Ponyville reservoir. “Hey,” she said. One of Lily’s hinds twitched, kicking up a cloud of dust. She immediately paled.

“Oh, crumpets! S-sorry, Carrot, I didn’t mean—”

“Lily, it’s fine,” Carrot Top replied, placating. “It’s just a little dust, less than a fraction of what I get covered in every day during growing season — and harvest time. I'll take a shower later.” She stood next to the dusky-rose mare and gazed out at the still waters kept back for Ponyville and other, farther-off towns. “I wanted to say that I’m sorry,” the farmer stated.

Lily blinked. The way she tilted her head was reminiscent of some species of small dog, like a terrier. “What do you mean?”

“I spooked you, earlier,” Carrot said, simply. “It was mean of me, it wasn’t very nice for you, and I’m sorry I did it.”

Lily stared. “Oh.” She sat quietly for a long moment.

Carrot stared at her. “So… do you forgive me, or…”

“When was this?” Lily asked, her forehead wrinkling.

Carrot blinked like she’d been hit in the face with a frying pan. “Earlier. After lunch. I suggested we could walk with the Crusaders—”

“Don’t speak that name!” Lily squeaked. “It summons their wrath!”

“...Sure. I suggested we could go with them to the spa, and when I looked ‘round, you were gone.”

“Oh,” said Lily again. “I didn’t catch that part of the conversation. A bug landed on my nose, so I had to run away screaming.”

The farmer regarded the florist with lidded eyes. She’s your wife’s sister, Carrot. She’s family. You don’t push family into a lake, no matter how much they deserve it. “Carrot? Are you alright?”

“Just look at the Celestia-damn lake, why don’t you,” the yellow mare grumbled, glaring out at the still waters. Then, she squinted. “Huh, look, bubbles.”

“Really?” Lily said, peering out. “Where?”

“There, in the middle. See that froth?” Carrot squinted. “Huh. Is it me, or is it…” She looked up. Lily was already a good fifteen meters up the path. “Horseapples.”

She may have said more, but was cut off by the massive geyser that erupted in the middle of the reservoir.

***

And yea, where once were three, there now were four of the noble Crusade, questing ever onwards for glory and self-knowledge. These four, joined as siblings, friends, confidantes, allies, bosom buddies, pals, compadres, chummiest of chums, homeponies, amigoes, and fellow Cutie Mark Crusaders, were fated to share in many a brave and grand adventure— but not without some others.

Author's Note

Well. This got out of hand fast. I really wasn't expecting this chapter to turn out nearly so long, but the first draft didn't seem quite finished. Then I got to editing, and the thing ended up being twice as long as I started with. Then I tried again, but that only resulted in another three or four paragraphs, and after that I decided that I should perhaps stop before I accidentally wrote a novella. Still, I'm pretty happy with it. The next chapter may end up taking a little while, though, so be warned on that front. The CMC have always been some of my favorite characters, so I hope to do a lot more with this universe in future.

Cutie Mark Crusader Dance Champions

Sing, O Muses, of an uncomplicated colt. Sing of a child, loving but thoughtless, cheerful but vague. Sing us the tale of the fifth to join the Crusade, of the gentle one, of the innocent, of the wondering. Tell of his noble quests with his fellows, aye, but tell us first of the quest which united them all…

The arcade was pandaemonium, full of flashing lights and arcane symbols. Foals sat the arrays of wooden boxes, each focused intently at a screen, each screen displaying a simple pixel illustration, brightly colored and brilliant. Behind each display, another array, made of thin, rotating towers and carefully punched cards; the difference engine of Babble and Lace Love given new life as a plaything, a marvel of modern engineering.

In the center of it all, there had sat a void. One single, central space, empty of light and sound. A blank wall. Nature abhorring a vacuum as it does, all eyes were on the empty place. It had been sitting there for a week, after Blue Sawblade Hedgehog Hunts for Treasure and Fights Robots had broken down. Rumours had been going around town for weeks about what would replace it. Would it be a puzzle game? (Twilight Sparkle’s fervent hope.) Would it be an adventure game with lots of running? (Rainbow Dash’s plea) Perhaps it would be a game with lots of cute and fluffy animals who run a town? (Not naming any names, but hers starts with an ‘F’ and rhymes with “Butter pie”). Everypony had their own hopes and dreams about the game, and though they knew that most of those dreams would be unfulfilled, they dreamed nonetheless.

The takeaway here is that Ponyville is a town always ready to grab onto the nearest fad and hang on for all it was worth, and it was a town where gossip was more circulated than library books, to the mild chagrin of Twilight Sparkle. For the last week, the rumours had circulated about the mysterious new game, ranging from Lyra’s insistence on a fantasy RPG to Lily’s nightmare-situation “Ponybius” to Pinkie Pie’s enthusiastic hope for something with lots of lights and bells and whistles and a big mallet to whack at it and a big red button!

So it was with no small amount of curiosity that the ponies of Ponyville regarded the large curtain placed over the void, no small amount of wariness that the two bulky ponies in suits that guarded said curtain regarded the crowd, and with no small amount of trepidation that the arcade’s owner, Bell Whistle, stepped out in front of it. A wave of silence spread through the arcade. Bell swallowed hard and adjusted his glasses. “H-hem,” he muttered, glancing down at the floor. He was not good at public speaking, having been born with nothing more than a desire to be left alone, only amplified by the awkwardness of his gangly frame and a preference for quiet reading or gaming over playing outside. Adulthood, a few good friends, and some therapy sessions had helped him avoid going completely boneless at the sight of a crowd, but he still tended to make Fluttershy look garrulous in comparison.

“H-hem,” Bell said again. The crowd stared, patient. He shoved his glasses up his nose once more and looked at his notecards. “Good morning,” he said. “I’m so very glad to see so many of you here.” He did not look up. He did not dare to, lest he lose his nerve entirely. “As many of you are aware, we have recently had to remove a machine from the Ponyville Arcade due to some glitches in its system, such as poor graphics, bad memory, the game coming out to invade the town, fluctuating volume, and ultimately, exploding after being hit by the Elements of Harmony, as many of you are aware. While management wishes that they had been able to fix the game rather than causing its total annihilation, we wish to extend our thanks to Applejack, Rarity Belle, Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy, Pinkie Pie, and Twilight Sparkle, as well as to Spike for helping to clean up the spillage of Entropy Sapphires from the game.”

“They tasted delicious!” a young voice called from the general direction of Princess Rescuer 9000.

Bell fumbled his cards. “Er, yes. I’m sure. While we were all very sad to see the old machine go, I believe I speak for all of us in arcade management in saying that I hope you will all enjoy this new game, generously purchased for us by the Rich Family of Barnyard Bargains, and I believe I speak for all of us in arcade management. Now, here to say a few more words, Filthy Rich himself.”

Bell hastily absented center stage, rushing straight past the nonplussed Mr. Rich. The businesspony took a moment to straighten his tie, then trotted out to center stage himself. He smiled at the assembled. “Good morning, everypony,” he said, glancing around. “As the good Mr. Whistle has said, Barnyard Bargains has indeed found a little something to fill in that empty slot in the arcade. I know you’re all curious to know just what it is, so I’ll try not to carry on for too long.” He winked. “Sorry folks, but this cutscene can’t be skipped.”

Good-natured chuckles washed up from the crowd. “That said, I would like to say just a couple words about why we’ve done this. As it happens, my daughter is the one to thank for this little addition. She saw it on a trip up to Windy City a few years back, and always wanted to see one in Ponyville. Well, I took a turn on it myself, and I can’t say I disagreed with her. When I heard about the vacancy in here, I thought, well, why not get my little Diamond a present that she can share with all of Ponyville? So, without any further ado!” He nodded to the security pony on the right, who pulled on the curtain’s cord. “Jig, Jig, Innovation!”

It was big. It was shiny. There were tubes of magically-lit gases running up and over the main body. There was a platform, crossed with arrows, and arrows and circles and lines spelled out its name overhead. There was complete silence. Then a cheer rose. Nopony knew what it was, or what it did, or if it was any good at all, but it was gorgeous andbig and they wanted a turn!

Mr. Rich chuckled and held up a hoof for quiet. “Now, this is actually a bit different than a lot of other games in here. There’s a tutorial in the game itself, but… well, I don’t suppose anypony would object if I were to just show it off a little?”
Wild cheering answered that, no, they wouldn’t mind at all. The earth pony smiled and pulled out a bit. He glanced at the screen, scrolling through a list of titles before finally settling on one. He smiled, and the faint sound of flutes filled the air. And then, he danced.

He was pretty good, for a dad. He kept it up for a whole two minutes before he started missing any great number off tiles. He lasted a minute more before he all but fell off, wheezing.. The businesspony smiled up at the audience, weak but sincere. “Excuse me,” he gasped. “Not as koff, koff, young as I was. But what koff, fun, eh?”

The crowd cheered again, and Mr. Rich’s smile grew a bit wider. “I’m glad you think so. In that case, I declare this game to be officially open to the public!”

He trotted slowly off to the cheers of the masses, quietly shaking Bell’s hoof before he left. In the audience, one young brown colt’s eyes sparkled. “Whoa…”

On the outskirts of the crowd, four jaws dropped. “Oh. My. Celestia,” Sweetie squeaked.

Outside the arcade, a pink hoof bumped silver, and two fillies grinned evilly.

***

“It looked so cool!” Apple Bloom sighed, staring up at the clubhouse roof.

“So go play on it,” Rumble said, not looking up from his math homework.

“But it’s only here ‘cause o’ Diamond Tiara!”

“So don’t go play on it.”

“But it looked so cool!”

“Abby, are you going to help me understand what the Tartarus Soh-Cah-Toa means, or are you gonna whine all afternoon?”

“Whine, prob’ly.”

“Sine equals opposite side over the hypotenuse, cosine equals adjacent over hypotenuse, tangent is opposite over adjacent,” Scootaloo said, flipping over another page. “I’m going to go on it later. It looked fun.”

“But Tiaraaaaa,” Apple Bloom groaned.

“So what?” Scootaloo asked, looking up from her worksheet. “You can’t let her ruin everything for you. Anyway, it doesn’t really even belong to her.”

“Ah guess,” Bloom sighed, flopping onto her stomach. “When’s Sweetie gonna get here?”

“Dunno,” Rumble said.

“She’s at the Boutique, I think,” Scootaloo said, rolling onto her back. “She said Rarity’s using her as a shop dummy again.”

“Oh, right.” Apple Bloom stared up at the ceiling. Then, her brow furrowed. “Hang on. Ain’t Rarity in Canterlot today?”

There was a moment’s silence. Then Bloom threw down her history book, and the three bolted out the hatch.

***

“Woo-hoo!” Sweetie shouted, hooves clattering on the brightly-lit platform as a jazzy little Charleston played from the game’s speakers. Her tail swished back and forth in time with the energetic beat, wagging like an excited puppy. Sure, she wasn’t hitting all the right tiles. Or at the right time. Or at all, occasionally. But she was having fun, which was the important thing.

Eventually, the song wound down, and so did the unicorn. She wiped a hoof across her brow, and looked up at the screen. 60% correct, it read. Not bad, Sweetie thought, stumbling off the platform. Some ponies hadn’t even gotten thirty. Not enough to put CMCSweetheart on the leaderboard, but enough to leave her satisfied with her work. “Hi, there!”

Sweetie nearly jumped out of her skin. She almost screamed, but she was so out of breath that all she could muster was a squeak of alarm. “Oops! Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Sweetie took another look at the newcomer. He was an earth pony with a well-combed chocolatey-brown coat, a long, shaggy mane topped with a constantly-spinning propellor beanie, and wide, earnest orange eyes. “I-it’s alright,” she said. “You just startled me, that’s all.”

He lit up. “Oh, okay. That's good.”

She waited for a moment as he beamed at her. “Um… did you want something?” she asked cautiously.

“Oh! Right. Um, I just wanted to say you did really good on that game, and do you want to maybe play it with me?”

Sweetie cocked her head. “Um.”

“I’m Button,” the colt added quickly. “Button Mash. I just moved here with my mom. I, uh, don’t have a lot of friends here yet.” He pinked slightly.

“Oh,” said Sweetie, slightly overwhelmed. It wasn’t often that she met somepony so enthusiastic. Then she beamed. “I’ll be your friend!”

“Yes!” Button said, punching the air. “So, you wanna try the doubleplay mode on JJI?”

“Okay! But, um, in a minute. I’m kinda too tired right now,” Sweetie said.

“Oh. Okay,” said Button, deflating slightly. His propellor slowed. Then, a moment later, it was whizzing about like a gyroscope once more. “How about Pac-Mule?”

She smiled. “Okay. I’m Sweetie Belle, by the way. Where did you move from?”

“Baltimare,” Button said, pulling out two bits. “I really liked it there, and I kinda miss the ocean, but Ponyville’s really nice, too.”

“How come I haven’t seen you around town before?” Sweetie asked, stepping up to the machine.

The colt shrugged. “I guess I don’t get out that much,” he admitted. “And I only got here a month ago, so me and mom have been pretty busy. Um,” he hummed. “So, uh, what sort of games do you like?”

Sweetie shrugged. “Iunno. I kinda like puzzle games, like Sudoku Smash, or Logic’s Gate.”

“Yeah, those are pretty good arcade games,” Button agreed. “But what about at home?”

Sweetie frowned. “I don’t have any games at home. Except chess and Monopony.”

Button’s eyes went huge and he dropped his bits. “Wha— Wait— Buh— you mean you don’t have a game system?”

Sweetie cocked her head. “What’s that?”

Bits went back into bag, and Button leapt from the machine. “C’mon! I’ll show you!”

***

The three Crusaders peered into the arcade. “See her yet?” Scootaloo asked, squinting.

“No,” Rumble said. “Hey, Scootaloo, have you got a twin? Or— no, that’s a colt. And an earth pony. But look, he’s on the JJI machine—”

“Me, neither. Guess we’d best go in an’ look fer her there,” Bloom sighed. “C’mon.”

She and Scootaloo waded into the miasma of light and sound. Rumble let his attention linger a few moments more on the cute colt on the dancing game. Then he tore his eyes away. Not now. He followed his friends into the arcade.

There was a massive crowd gathered around the new machine, cheering on its new master as he kicked up his hooves to a giddy Shirish jig. “Hey, ‘scuse me, comin’ through,” Bloom said. “Hey, Lily! Have y’all seen—”

“AH!” the florist yelped. “It's Them!” She raced from the arcade, screaming. The three foals watched her rush out the door.

“Hey, Mr. Whistle,” Scootaloo hailed. The gold-coated stallion started in surprise. “O-oh, hello, Scootaloo. Is there anything I can help you with?”

“We're looking for Sweetie Belle,” Rumble said. “Seen her anywhere?”

Bell nodded, his cropped, curly mane bouncing. “Ye-es, I just…” he glanced around. “Hm. She must have just left. She was with one of my best customers, Button Mash. He's one of my best customers.”

“Shoot,” sighed Bloom. “Well, Ah guess we'll jes’ hafta find this ‘Button Mash,’ then.”

“Can't we have a turn on the new machine, first?” Scootaloo asked. “Look, there's nopony on it!”

It was true. The colt who looked oddly like Scootaloo had jumped off at last, and the gathered crowd were all cheering for him. Bloom sighed. “Awright, fine. One round.”

“Yes!” Scootaloo buzzed over, bit at the ready.

“Hold it!”

The pegasus stopped short and glanced around. “Oh. What do you want, Tiara?”

The pink filly sneered. “I can't imagine wanting anything you had, Scoota-loser. I don't touch orphan cash.”

“I'm not an orphan! You've seen my mom! She's a history professor, she just doesn't get out much!”

Diamond Tiara yawned. “Sure, fine, don't care. Just lemme get what I need, and then you'll be out of my mane.”

Scootaloo opened her mouth to retort, but her jaw dropped when she saw Silver Spoon leading in a bunch of burly ponies in sharp suits and sunglasses. “Right this way,” she said. “Bet we're going to get a good haul out of this.”

Bell Whistle frowned, and that frown only deepened when one of the toughs produced a key. “Excuse me, but what are you doing?”

One of the heavies glanced up. “Takin’ the haul, what's it look like?”

Bell blinked. “But… this is an arcade machine.”

“Yep. One owned by Barnyard Bargains,” Tiara said smugly. “Thus returning all revenue generated to us. Or me, at least.”

“What?” Apple Bloom all but exploded. “Ya can't do that!”

Bell nodded. “Yes, this was a gift! Gifted to us by Mr. Rich, who gifted it to us!”

“Yeah, sure,” snorted a grey mare, unlocking the machine. “‘Less you got a contract says otherwise, we're takin’ the dough.”

“I do, actually,” Bell said.

That brought them up short. “Oh,” said the grey mare, scratching her head. “Well, dat’s different.”

“Sorry ‘bout dat,” a scar-faced stallion said, hoofing over the key.

“Our bad,” agreed a mare with a cutie mark of a cinder block. “Do pardon us.”

Silver Spoon stared incredulously at Diamond Tiara. “You didn't check for this?” she demanded.

“It worked for my uncle’s pinball palace in Baltimare,” Tiara defended. Then, she turned to Bell Whistle, looking contrite. “So sorry, Mr. Whistle. I must have misunderstood the business relationship. Here's my key—” she hoofed it over. “Please, take it as a sign of apology. It won't happen again, will it Silver?”

The bespectacled filly cocked her head, but quickly caught on. “Uh, no, it won't,” she agreed.

Bell smiled nervously. “Eh, that's, er, quite alright. Just, um, er…”

“Check first in the future?” Tiara asked smoothly. “Of course, Mr. Whistle.”

The golden stallion nodded and glanced over as the last of the suit-wearing ponies left the arcade, the last one tipping his hat as he went. “Good, good,” he stammered. “Enjoy the arcade, then.”

Rumble leaned into Bloom’s ear. “They got shut down fast, huh?”

The yellow filly giggled. “Ah think that's about that fer today,” she whispered back as Scootaloo got up onto the platform.

“Hold it!” Tiara said again, throwing up a hoof.

Scootaloo sighed. “What now?”

Diamond smiled smugly. “This might've been a gift for the arcade, but it was a gift to me, too. Daddy said so.”

The orange pegasus stared at her flatly. “So?”

“So, I should get paid the same as the machine does,” Tiara demanded, holding out a hoof. “Give.”

Scootaloo regarded her. “Nah.” Then, she put her bit in the machine. “Let's see, what looks good… waltz, yuck… polka, no… it takes two to tango…”

Suddenly, the screen went black. “Hey!” Scootaloo said, indignant.

Silver stuck her head out from behind the machine. “Give us a bit, and I'll turn it back on,” she taunted.

“Ugh!” Scootaloo fumed, but then tossed over a bit. “Happy?”

“Plus a processing fee, transfer fee, and interest,” Silver added smoothly.

“What's that mean?” Bloom asked.

“I think it means, more,” Rumble replied, glowering at the duo.

Scootaloo threw another bit at the floor and glared impatiently as Silver ducked behind the machine. Diamond smiled smugly as it turned on.

“Let's see. Baby mode? I don't think so,” Scootaloo said, making to change the difficulty level. She frowned. “Why is it only offering me the most basic levels?”

“Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know you wanted to upgrade,” Silver said smugly, waving a stack of punch cards at the pegasus. “Another bit per every level up.”

Rumble smacked the floor. “That's it,” he growled. “Cut it out and put those back where they go, or so help me—”

“Or so help you what?” Tiara asked. “You'll punch me? I’ll sue you and your brother for everything you've got. Might even be enough to buy some pocket lint.”

“Ah’ll play ya fer it,” Bloom said firmly.

That brought the rich filly up short. “You'll— huh?”

“A wager,” the yellow filly continued. “You two ‘gainst th’ Crusaders. If we win, ya quit houndin’ us fer bits.”

Diamond curled her lip. “Silver?”

The grey filly poked her head out again. “Sounds like fun,” she agreed.

The pink filly nodded. “Fine. But when we win, you Crusaders have to— have to—” she broke off, concentrating. “Go to school in diapers!” she finished triumphantly.

Bloom blanched for a moment, then glanced at the two pegasi. Rumble was still glowering at the bullies. Scootaloo pounded one hoof against the other. The yellow filly’s lip curled, and she spat in her hoof. “Yer on!”

Diamond looked disgusted, but she repeated the gesture. “High noon,” she said, shaking her enemy’s hoof. “We'll even give you time to practice. Then, one game each. Whoever scores highest, wins.”

“Deal!” Bloom agreed. “On the same level, but any dance is fair game.”

“Deal,” said Tiara, pulling away. “Silver, put those cards away. Let's give them some kind of practice time.”

The duo trotted away, laughing.

Rumble glanced at Bloom. “You sure you know what you’re doing?”

Bloom coughed. “Uh, well, Ah dunno ‘bout you, but Ah got three left hooves. How’re—”

“Never tried,” Rumble said. Both of them looked at Scootaloo, who was hopping desperately from tile to tile like a deranged rabbit. “Well. It was nice knowing you, Bloom, but I think I’m just going to go and start living in the Everfree before we get our flanks kicked.”

Bloom scowled. “We got us some time ta practice,” she said. “We jes’ gotta make th’ most of it.” The time was half-past nine.

***

Tender Care sighed happily as she set the last photograph down on the mantelpiece. It had taken more time than she’d expected, but all of their things had finally been unpacked. Now, perhaps, their new house would start to feel more like a home. Yet, even as she gazed around the room, her heart sank. There was something missing, something wrong. The house felt cold and lonely.

There was the sound of a door slamming open. “Mom! Mom! Momma! Mom! Mommy! Ma! Mom! Mom! Momma-llama-ding-dong! Mom!”

There it was, she thought, a smile crossing her face. “In here, sweetie!”

“How does your mom know my name?” a new voice asked. Female, quite young. About the same age as Button. Button had made a friend?

“Secret mom powers!” Tender replied, stepping into the kitchen and grinning playfully at the two foals, though she scanned them closely. One, of course, was her own Button. He was a little more roughed-up than usual, but grinning widely. The other, a creamy-coated unicorn with shining eyes and a curly mane. “Your name is Sweetie, then?”

“Yes, ma’am. Sweetie Belle,” said Sweetie Belle. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Tender’s brow rose. “Well, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance as well, Miss Belle. I’m Tender Care. Would you two like a snack?”

“No, thank you. I’m still full from breakfast.”

“Mom, we don’t have time for snacks! Sweetie Belle’s never even heard of a game console!” Button said, bouncing excitedly.

Tender raised an eyebrow at her son. “I did tell you that a lot of ponies out here might not have all the technology we might have had back ho— in the city.”

“Yeah, but I gotta show her!” Button said, voice rising in excitement.

Tender smiled. “Alright, Button. Go and bring it down. We’ll wait here.”

“Okay!” He rushed off, taking the stairs two at a time.

The older mare looked back at Sweetie, only to find that the filly was now standing right next to her, peering at her flanks. “Miss Care—”

“Tender is fine.”

“What does your cutie mark mean?”

Tender glanced as Sweetie’s own flanks, and nodded. “I got mine much later than most of my friends,” she said. “It didn’t come in until I was sixteen!”

Sweetie’s jaw fell open. “Sixteen?” she echoed.

“Oh, yes,” Tender said, nodding thoughtfully. “I was babysitting my little cousin, Angel Hair…”

A young, light-tan mare with silver braces and a ponytail buried her head in her hooves as a piercing wail split the air and her eardrums both. “Quit screaming!” she yelled at the pale yellow infant sitting in a pile of toys. “You aren’t hungry, you won’t take a nap, and your diaper is [i/] clean! What do you want from me?”

Little Angel Hair only continued wailing and carrying on. Tender huffed. When her Aunt Loving Spoonful had offered her fifteen bits an hour, she should’ve haggled for more. The baby had been good enough for the first hour and a half, but things had disintegrated very fast and very suddenly. The tiny filly started wailing without cause and refused to stop. Tender had tried everything: feeding her, distracting her with toys, taking her diaper off and then putting it on again (hey, it worked for her calculator). She’d even tried giving the little Tartarion a bath, to no avail.

“If you don’t quit crying,” Tender began. “I’ll— I’ll—” She racked her brains. “I’ll start crying too! Louder than you!”

Angel Hair showed no sign of letting up. Tender screwed up her face. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you! WWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!”

The two sat there for a long moment just wailing at one another. Then, Angel stopped, registering what was happening.

Tender continued to wail, not realizing that the baby had stopped until she felt a little poke at her leg. She cut off abruptly and looked down. Angel was looking up at her in concern. She blew a little raspberry at the baby.

Angel blew a raspberry back, and Tender smiled in a manner befitting her name. “There now. Not so bad after all, huh?”

The baby smiled a mostly toothless smile and made to grab the older filly’s nose. Tender leaned down and let Angel bat at it. Then, she straightened up in shock. “Angel. How did you get over here? Did you— did you start walking? For me?”
“Gah!”

Tender blinked back tears and hugged the infant gently. “Oh, honey… who’s the sweetest filly in the world? Izzit you? Yes, you are!”

So distracted was she by her baby cousin, she didn’t notice her new cutie mark for another fifteen minutes. After that, she squealed louder than ever before and started Angel off crying again. Still, worth it.

***

“So, it’s a symbol for looking after ponies and understanding their needs, especially loved ones,” the tan mare concluded. “I’ve made a career out of it; I’m a therapist.”

Sweetie was undeterred from the central point of the story. “You didn’t get your cutie mark until you were sixteen?” she squeaked.

Tender smiled and smoothed back Sweetie’s mane. “Yes,” she agreed. “That does seem an awfully long time to wait, doesn’t it? But you know what? I think the ponies with the best cutie marks are the ones who had to wait and see what they werereally good at.”

“I guess,” Sweetie said slowly.

There was a clattering noise from the steps and Button came bounding back into the kitchen, carrying with him a large green metal box on his back. He stopped and let it thump onto the ground in front of Sweetie Belle. He looked up at her, his tail wagging. She looked at it for a long moment and smiled, uncertain. “What is it?” she asked.

“It’s an Atarein!” Button said. “I’ve got an Uus system, too, but that’s a lot bigger.”

“Oh,” said Sweetie. “How do you play?”

Button shook his head. “No, it’s not a game. This is the game!” He produced a slim metal tablet. It shone oddly in the light. “You just put it in here, and…”

The dark screen centered near the top of the box flickered to life with a pale green glow. Sweetie leaned closer as the words “ROUGH AND TUSSLE” faded onto the screen. “Oh! So it’s like an arcade game, but small.”

“Wha-- No! Well, kinda, I guess, but this can play all sorts of games, and you don’t have to pay every time you play.”

“Oh,” Sweetie said blankly.

“And you don’t have to wait in lines for a turn,” Button added.

“Oh!” Sweetie said, brightening. “That’s cool.”

“Yeah, I know!” Button said. “Wanna play?”

“Sure! How do we…” She trailed off as Button produced a pair of controllers and clicked them into place on the console.

A tinny voice echoed from the speakers. “Let’s get ready to TUMBLE!”

“I’ll go easy on you, since you’re new at this,” Button said.

Tender smiled. “I’ll be in the next room if either of you need anything,” she said, trotting off to tidy away the cardboard boxes.

***

“Okay,” Bloom said. “We got this set on th’ lowest level an’ the slowest speed. Scoots, choose yer song.”

The pegasus stared up at the list of choices. “Well, I know Holly Bud songs pretty well. Hey, isn’t that grey mare married to DJ P0N-3 in the Krikkits?”

“Come on,” Rumble said, impatiently.

“Okay. Whoosh, by the Mustangs,” Scootaloo said decisively.

Apple Bloom selected the tune, and a fast-paced swing number began to play. Onscreen, little arrows and symbols began to rain down from the top, and Scootaloo leapt from side to side athletically, bouncing on her hooves as she went. She lacked some skill, but she managed to compensate for that in speed and enthusiasm. Perhaps she overcompensated; despite the song’s allegro pace, she was a little bit faster, and she kept hitting the arrows before time. The other two watched her progress. “Not bad,” Rumble said.

“But is she good enough ta beat them two bullies?” Bloom worried.

The song ended, and Scootaloo stared up at the screen. “Seventy percent, not bad,” she said, stepping off.

“Alright, Bloom, you’re up next,” Rumble said.

The farm filly laughed humorlessly. “Not a chance. Yer up.”

The grey colt rolled his eyes, but climbed onto the platform.

“Awright, Rumble, what’ll it be fer you?”

The colt stared up at the screen. “Uh, the Enticements are about the only ones I really know… wait, there are musicals in here?”

“Yeah,” Scootaloo said. “Why, do you watch a lot of them?”

“Thunderlane and Flitter love ‘em, Cloudchaser loves to make fun of them.” Rumble shrugged. “I’m not crazy about them, but I’ll take Wicked Mare from ‘Utopia’.”

“Alright,” Scootaloo said, navigating along the screen. A smooth, jazzy intro began to play.

Rumble’s dancing wasn’t the best. It was technical, correct, and precise, but you couldn’t see much passion to it beyond mild irritation. On the other hoof, he seemed to be doing well enough on hitting the right tiles at the right time.

“Uh, hey, Apple Bloom.”

Bloom turned in surprise. “Oh, howdy, Twist. How’ve y’all been?”

The curly-maned filly nodded quickly. “Oh, I’ve been alright. Auntie Bon Bon’th been teaching me how to make peanut butter fudge.”

“Yeah? Bet she lets y’all help out heaps more’n the kitchen now you got that shiny new cutie mark.”

Twist shifted awkwardly. “Uh, yeah, I guesth. Anyway, I just wanted to athk if you were going to be on there for much longer?”

“Oh, sorry, Twist. We got this bet goin’ with Diamond Tiara that we can outdance her, an’, well, we need all th’ practice we kin get.”

Twist slumped. “Oh. Okay.”

Apple Bloom frowned. “Ya doin’ alright there, Pep?” she asked. “Ya seem a li’l down in th’ dumps.”

“No, it’th nothing,” Twist said. “Um, it’th been nithe theeing you again, Apple Bloom, but I gotta go. Oh, but do you wanna come over Wednesday afternoon?”

Bloom blinked. “Well, that sounds like a fine idea,” she agreed. “Ah’ll see y’all then. Oh, hey, th’ song’s endin’. Looks like Ah’m up next.”

Twist’s eyes went huge behind her spectacles. “Um, I gotta go… wathh the lawn. Thee you Wednesday!” She hurried off.

Scootaloo watched her go. “Old friend?” she guessed.

Bloom sighed. “Yeah, kinda. We usta be blank-flank buddies, but since she got her mark, we just kinda… drifted, Ah guess.”

Rumble trotted off the platform, a thin sheen of sweat on his brow. “Eighty-five,” he reported.

“Hey, that’s good,” Bloom said. “Looks like yer gonna be our fighter in this one.”

Rumble frowned. “Hold on,” he said flatly. “You’re going to try out first. I’ve heard way too much about this amazingly bad dancing of yours, and I’m going to see it firsthoof.”

Bloom sighed and got up onto the machine. “Fine. But don’t say Ah didn’t warn ya!”

“Country?” Rumble guessed drily.

“Ha ha,” Bloom replied. “No. Ah ain’t that much a cliche, and Ah ain’t met a squaredance Ah could pull off. Ah’ll take Pudgy Parcheesi. Raspberry Hill.”

Scootaloo selected the tune, and Bloom set off with violent vigor. Unfortunately, it was a rather slower piece. Neither pegasus could tear their eyes from the carnage that followed as the yellow filly conspired to hit every single tile save for the one onscreen. She flailed like a fish that was not only out of water, but also out of oxygen, social support, and possibly its mind. The colt that looked like Scootaloo approached them, but Rumble held him back. “Look away,” he whispered. “Look away.”

When the song ended, several nearby ponies broke into tears of relief. Some even broke into applause, so glad were they that it was over. Bloom looked around in surprise. “Golly! Ah didn’t think mah dancin’ was that purty. Mebbe Ah should do another one?”

That cleared the line away fast. Bloom looked back up at the screen. “What? Only three percent?”

“How did she get that high?” Scootaloo whispered.

“Remember when she fell on her flank that one time?” Rumble replied. “She accidentally hit the right tile when she was getting back to her hooves.”

“Ahh…”

“Well,” said Bloom, getting down from the platform. “Ah certainly hope that satisfied yer curiosity, ‘cos Ah don’t think Ah’ve ever been so embarrassed in mah life.”

“Yeah, fine,” Rumble relented. “I guess I’d better train some more. It’s already half past ten.”

***

“How did you beat me again?!” Button demanded, slamming his hoof against the table.

“I dunno,” Sweetie replied, taking a sip of her juice box. “Wanna play best of fifteen?”

“...Sure,” Button sighed.

“I don’t think so,” said Tender firmly. “You’ve spent almost an hour on that game, and you were just at the arcade. No more video games today.”

Button looked up at his mother with big, sad eyes. “But mom, Sweetie’s never even seen a game console before today! It’s all new to her!”

Tender glanced to the side, but she couldn’t escape the allure of those puppy-dog eyes; Sweetie was doing them, too. “All right,” she relented. “No more video games until after noon, then.”

“Okay!” Button said, turning to Sweetie. “So, what d’you wanna do?”

She shrugged. “I dunno. Have you got any board games?”

Tender smiled at them both. “It’s a beautiful spring day out there. I’m sure you can find something nice and active to do…”

Sweetie brightened. “Oh! We could go and find my other friends. I bet they can think of something to do!”

“Great!” Button cheered. “What are their names? What are they like? Do they like video games? What do you do for fun?”

Sweetie began to eagerly reply to Button’s questions as the duo trotted out the door. Tender smiled; it warmed her heart to see her son making friends so quickly in this new town. Perhaps she should look into making some new friends as well. She barely knew the neighbors at all, and they’d been here for a whole month already! Perhaps after a little while, she might re-enter the dating pool. Prove, at least to herself, that her ex wasn’t the only one who could get a new lover at the drop of a hoof.

Her smile faded as she recalled the fateful afternoon when she’d gone to bring Resistor Switch the lunch he’d left on the counter, and discovered that he was eating something else entirely behind the office door he’d forgotten to lock. There had been some tensions before then, but this was the final nail in the coffin. She’d taken custody of Button and a sizable amount of her ex’s money. There had been a few possessions as well, but she’d sold them at the first opportunity. Better not to hang onto things best left forgotten.

This move was meant to be a clean slate for her and Button both. He was as bright as his namesake, and saw this as some kind of grand adventure. The right attitude to have, Tender reflected. A new town to explore, new characters to meet, perhaps some quests if she was lucky. She trotted out the door into the sunlight, smiling and waving at the pair of stallions next door. Behind her, the door slammed shut on the darkened house.

***

“So, your group--”

“The Cutie Mark Crusaders.”

“Yeah, that. Can I join?”

Sweetie rubbed her chin with a hoof as she led Button through the apple orchard, where the trees were beginning to bloom. “Well, we’ll have to vote on it, but I don’t see why you couldn’t. I mean, you’re nice, and friendly, and you don’t have a cutie mark yet. You’re a shoe-in!”

“Cool!” Button bounced along beside the unicorn, his propeller spinning faster than ever. “So, they’re all at the clubhouse you mentioned?”

Sweetie thought about that. “Well, they ought to be,” she hedged. “We usually spend Saturday mornings doing homework so we’ve got the rest of the weekend free for Crusading. But they might’ve finished already. Applejack can tell us where they are, though, if they’ve run off.”

“Can we check the clubhouse first? I’ve never seen a clubhouse before,” Button enthused.

“Well, you won’t find a better one to start with,” Sweetie said, raising a hoof in a grand, sweeping gesture. “Behold!”
Button beheld. The clubhouse had clearly begun as a simple wooden structure, little more than a treehouse. Four walls, windows, roof, doors, fairly bog-standard. Since then, it had grown. A telescope stuck out of the roof. A firepony’s pole connected to the ground from somewhere high in the tree. A rudimentary shower had been constructed out of a garden hose and a colander, and there were rectangular markings on the roof with notes saying, ‘cut here’ and ‘stairwell ends here.’

“Whoa,” Button said, grinning.

“Yeah,” Sweetie agreed. “Bloom didn’t wanna add all the stuff on at first, but the rest of us talked her into the shower. I think she really enjoyed it, ‘cause she keeps adding on. We’re putting in a second story next week, and as soon as we can find out how to cut a hole in the tree trunk and still keep it alive, we’re adding a basement.”

“Whoa,” Button repeated, gazing up at the towering treehouse. “So what’s it like inside?”

“C’mon! I’ll show you!” Sweetie replied, bouncing up to the clubhouse. Button followed her, scampering up the steps in her wake.

“Aw,” Sweetie added, smile dropping. “Nopony here. And they left all their books and things lying around, too.”
Button didn’t reply. He was too busy gazing in awe at the room around him. It was lit naturally, light reflected around the clubhouse with carefully-positioned mirrors. A shelf, half-full of books and scrolls and knick-knacks, took up half a wall. Another wall was consumed by a chalkboard, where attempted solutions for Foalmat’s Last Theorem shared space with calculations for the size of a ramp and a half-finished portrait of Rainbow Dash eating a roast beet sandwich. A hoofwritten sign at the top read ‘Scootaloo’s Corner’.

Then there were the things that Button couldn’t even begin to comprehend; crayon drawings of unlikely inventions, clay statues of dancing ponies, empty potion bottles and herbs that covered half a table. A piece of paper read, in the same hoofwriting as the sign on the chalkboard, ‘~~Alkymist~~ ~~Alchimest~~ ~~Alkimist~~ Potion-Maker in Training: Hooves Off.’

Sweetie glanced around. “Yeah, sorry about the mess,” she said. “We put most of our stuff in the old woodshed so it isn’t cluttering the place up too much. Or--” she glanced at Button and decided that it would be best not to scare him off. “Yeah, avoid clutter.”

***

Applejack glanced at her brother’s close-cropped mane. “Granny fin’lly hogtie ya an’ give ya a trim?”

Big Macintosh looked at her sidelong. “Nnope.”

“Didja get attacked by a crazy barber who usu’lly only works on cactuses?”

“Nnope.”

“Well, Ah sure hope ya got ambushed by a badger with a razor, ‘cause if ya got that manecut of yer own choosin’, y’all’ve gone looney.”

Mac sighed. “Ah opened th’ woodshed.”

“Oh,” Applejack winced. “Scissor frisbee?”

“Light-activated laser cannon.”

“Ah.” Applejack chewed on her lower lip. “Ya reckon we oughta be worried about what she’s gettin’ up to?”

“Nah. Look how you turned out.”

“Ah never did nuttin’--”

“Automatic apple picker.”

“Never mind…”

***

“So!” Sweetie said brightly. “What do you think?”

Button looked at her longingly. “Can we go find your friends now so I can be a Crusader? Please please please?”

Sweetie beamed. “Yes! Now, if I were finished with my homework on a sunny Saturday morning, where would I go?”

Button thought about this. “The arcade!”

Sweetie coughed. “Well, um…” she trailed off. “Well, I think Scootaloo did want to try the JJI, too… alright, we’ll check at the arcade first, but we’d better hurry. Rarity wanted me home for lunch by one.” She checked the clock, carefully modified and hooked up to the mirrors to ensure that they would always track the sun. “It’s half-past eleven, so we’d better hurry.”

Button lingered at the entrance for a moment as Sweetie bounced down the steps. Then he turned and hurried after her, silently promising to return soon.

***

Rumble panted, sweat pouring down his face. He was no slouch when it came to sport, but Scootaloo and Apple Bloom had been running him ragged on this machine for the past two hours, with infrequent and irregular water breaks. “Girls,” he wheezed, trying to persuade his aching hooves to fall into their proper places. “Can I please take a break now?”

Apple Bloom frowned. “Ah dunno. Yer average jes’ keeps fallin’ the more ya practice.”

“So maybe I shouldn’t practice anymore, so it doesn’t get worse.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that,” Scootaloo said. “I don’t speak quitter.”

Rumble stopped in mid-jig. “Scootaloo, look at me. I’m a mess.” It was true. He was soaking with sweat, and his mane was matted against his scalp. He smelled gross, like Big Mac’s yoke after a week without being cleaned. His throat was raw, and his voice hoarse. Worst of all, his legs were shaking like jelly just from the pressure of supporting his body.

Scootaloo looked at him with a raised brow. “Pain is just weakness leaving the body,” she said.

“Pain is just pain entering the body,” Rumble growled. “I’m not some kind of unathletic weakling, Scootaloo. I’ve practiced this hard before.”

“So what’s the problem?” Scootaloo demanded, leaning forwards.

Rumble butted his forehead against hers. “The problem is that after that kind of practice, I usually have to get Thunderlane to carry me home, ‘cause I’m too sore to move. The problem is that I usually have a couple of days rest before I actually have to play for real. The PROBLEM is that we’ve got about twenty minutes before the dance-off for our dignity, and I feel like a Celestia-damn zombie!”

Scootaloo drew back. “Oh.” She glanced at Apple Bloom. “I think we might have messed up.”

The yellow filly’s ear twitched nervously. “Aight. Okay, Plan B. Scoots, yer up.”

Rumble all but fell off the platform, stumbling off to rest his aching muscles. Scootaloo put in another bit and selected a waltz. She moved with the beat as best she could, focusing only on the screen. She was doing pretty okay, Bloom thought. Maybe, just maybe, they could win this bet after all. A few minutes later, Scootaloo had finished with a very respectable eighty-four percent accuracy. “Aight,” Apple Bloom said. “Aight, we still might have a chance. How many bits do we got on us?”

“Three,” Rumble reported.

“Four,” Scootaloo said.

“An’ Ah got two,” Bloom said. “Enough fer another couple runs. C’mon, Scoots, we’re countin’ on y’all.”

The pegasus nodded grimly and put in another coin.

***

Diamond glanced at her best friend. “You ready to win this?” she asked, smirking.

Silver smiled back, only a tad nervous. “Yeah. Which song do you want to do?”

The pink filly nibbled at her lower lip for a second before remembering that that was a sign of weakness. “Tango?”

Silver pursed her lips. “You sure? That’s never been our best. Why not go for something that we’re bound to win with?”

“I’ve been practicing,” Diamond insisted. “Just keep in step with me, and we’ll send those blank-flank babies crying for their-- their--”

“Mommies?” Silver suggested.

Diamond blinked. “Yes, thank you, Silvy. Anyway, are you ready?”

Her glasses flashed with sinister glee. “You know it.”

***

Sweetie entered the arcade at a rapid gait, Button close at her hooves. “Do you see them?” he asked.

Sweetie peered around the room, squinting against the bright colors and lights. “I see Apple Bloom and Scootaloo,” she said at last. “But not-- oh, there’s Rumble. Wow, he looks real beat-up. His mane is soaking!”

“Oh,” Button winced. “Yeah, I’ve been there.”

Sweetie looked the colt over. He was a tad portly, not remotely muscular, and had developed a light sweat just cantering around town. “Really?” she asked, unable to keep a note of doubt from entering her tone. He really didn’t look like the type to engage in long, strenuous workouts.

“Uh-huh,” Button said sadly. “That’s one thing I won’t miss about Baltimare; Sea Swirl. Or ‘Sea Swirly.’ She was the meanest kid ever.” He paused and looked at Sweetie anxiously. “You don’t have any bullies in Ponyville, right?”

Sweetie bit her lip. “We do,” she said. “Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon. But Miss Cheerilee, that’s our teacher, is really good at keeping them off our backs.” She paused, and because she had always been taught to be scrupulous, corrected her last remark to, “Pretty good.”

Button whimpered slightly, his propellor beanie slowing to a crawl. “They aren’t that bad, I guess,” Sweetie hastened to add. “Just, you know, annoying and rude.”

“Oh, so we’re the annoying ones, Squeaky Belle?”

“Ah, speak of the Nightmare,” Sweetie said flatly, turning to stare at the pair of interlopers. “What do you two want?”

“We just thought we’d check out your raw recruit,” Silver said, eyes idly tracing Button’s flanks. “Another baby blank-flank for your little day-care center, huh?”

“Silver, make up your mind. Are we menaces to society, or are we infants, ‘cause I don’t think we can be both,” Sweetie snarked.

Silver thought about this. “You’re infants with access to high-tech, dangerous machinery,” she decided.

Sweetie nodded. “Eight of ten for effort.”

Diamond snorted. “What-ever. Come Monday, everypony in town will see you for the baby blank-flanks you really are.”

Sweetie’s brow furrowed. “Huh?”

“Ask your friends,” Silver replied, mocking. “See you in three minutes!”

The duo trotted away, laughing evilly. Sweetie watched them go, concerned. “Sweetie,” Button said. “What were they talking about?”

“I dunno,” the unicorn replied. “Let’s go and find out.”

***

“You bet them WHAT?”

Apple Bloom winced both at Sweetie’s anger and from the preposterously high pitch that came with it. “It was th’ only way Ah could think ta get ‘em off our backs!” she protested.

“Really? The only way. Not, I dunno, just leaving? Or telling Mr. Whistle?”

“What good would that do? He ain’t a disciplinarian.”

“Better than betting the two biggest bullies in town! Better than saying that we’d dress up like babies if we lost!”

Button whimpered. “I don’t wanna spend my first day at school in a diaper.”

“We aren’t gonna lose,” Scootaloo promised. “I got ninety-four percent that last time, let’s see them beat that!”

“A ninety-four?” an unwelcome voice cut in. “That’s not bad. For a beginner.”

The Crusaders (plus one presumptive), turned to look. Diamond and Silver smirked back. “High noon, baby,” Silver said. “Or should I say, babies.”

Scootaloo glared at them both, leaning against the railing of the platform. “Yeah, yeah. Look, we’ve been practicing all morning, spent most of our allowances, and I think Rumble looks like he’s gonna throw up. So, are we gonna dance, or are we gonna yak?”

Diamond rolled her eyes. “Fine. We’re going first. I want to see the moment when all the hope goes out of your faces.”

“Cool,” said Scootaloo. Then, she frowned. “Wait. Whaddya mean, ‘we’?”

“Didn’t you see?” Diamond asked, stepping onto the platform. “There’s a two-player mode. That’s the one we’re using. And since we agreed to play on the same level…”

Scootaloo’s jaws flapped as though she were chewing gum, but her expression spoke of one who had bitten into a wet sock instead. She spun around. “Rumble, can you dance again?”

He stared at her. “Scootaloo, I don’t think I can stand.”

“Sweetie Belle? New kid?”

“Um, it’s Button.”

“Sure, fine. Sweetie?” Scootaloo asked desperately.

“I didn’t do so great when I tried earlier. Button is probably your best bet.”

“I've played before,” Button offered. “I'm pretty good at it.”

Scootaloo studied him intently. “Okay. You're joining the Crusaders, then?”

“Yes, please!”

“Kay. Raise your right hoof.” Button did so. “Do you swear to be our sibling, our friends, our confidant, our ally, our…” the music reached a fever pitch. “Oh, never mind. Do you swear to be a Crusader?”

“Sure!”

“Great, we’ll have the full initiation later,” Scootaloo said. “For now, let’s get dancing.” The last of the music died away, and the score came up with a trill.

“Eighty-seven?” Diamond asked, voice thin. “That’s all?”

“I told you it wasn’t our best one,” Silver pointed out.

Diamond growled. “Fine. Well, I suppose it’s a good thing that I developed a plan B.” With no further ado, she vaulted off the platform, straight into Scootaloo.

“Ow!” Scootaloo yelled as she and Diamond smashed into Exploding Goose. “The Tartarus, Diamond?”

“Oops,” Tiara sneered. “So sorry. Let me just not give you a hoof up.”

Scootaloo glowered at the filly as she tried to stand. She winced, lifting her right hind hoof into the air. “Ow,” she repeated.

“Scoots! You alright, there?” Bloom asked, rushing to her friend’s side. “Kin ya still dance?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fiIIII!” Scootaloo’s face twisted up in pain. “I’m good! I can work through the pain. It’ll be fine.”

She took a step towards the machine, visibly shaking. A few more steps, and she’d collapsed. “Okay. New plan. I’m just gonna lie here.”

Bloom looked at Sweetie Belle. “Aight. Sweetie, it’s down ta you an’ Button, here.”

They looked at each other. “Uh, can we have a practice round?” Sweetie asked, shaky.

“No,” Silver said. “We’ve already given you Crusaders the whole morning to practice. Go.”

Sweetie rose and stepped onto the platform, visibly trembling. Button got up next to her. “It’s alright,” he said. “You’ll be great. Do you know any of these songs?”

Sweetie’s eyes flickered over the list. Waltz. Charleston. Tango. Rhumba. “N-no… wait, yes. Rarity taught me swing. She said it was a dance that everypony should know, ‘cause it’s just as good for really formal stuff and not-so-formal parties, too. I guess I was pretty good at that.”

“Okay,” Button said. “I’ve never tried it. You want to lead?”

“Okay,” Sweetie said. She had stopped shaking, and her voice and eyes were clearer. “It’s not that hard,” she continued, selecting the song. “Just mirror me.”

Both foals got into position, standing on their hind hooves and facing each other, Sweetie staring at the screen, Button staring at Sweetie’s hooves. “Okay,” she said as the little symbols began to fall. “Now, your left leg first, step, step, back-step. Step, step, back-step.”

The other five foals stared, mouths and eyes wide as Sweetie led Button through the dance. “Now we switch places, pull yourself towards me… almost! Step, step, back-step.”

“I don’t believe it,” Rumble marveled as Sweetie caught Button and spun him towards her.

“Neither can I,” Diamond muttered, making a move forward, only to be blocked by Apple Bloom.

“No chance,” she said.

And then, far too soon, the music was over. Everypony’s eyes fixed on the screen, waiting for the results to show. It hadn’t been a perfect dance, Sweetie reflected. There had been more than a few missteps on both Button’s part and her own. What if it hadn’t been enough? What if they had lost? Oh, Celestia, they’d lost, she knew it! They would all be laughed at, mocked, ostra-

“Ninety-three percent!” Button cheered. “We did it!” He bounced up and down, then turned to Sweetie. “Great job!”

“We did it?” Sweetie repeated. “We did it!”

Diamond and Silver glanced at one another, and as one, decided that this was a total waste of their Saturday and that they could go and do something much less lame then hang around with baby blank-flanks all afternoon. They turned and sauntered away, noses in the air, while Sweetie and Button were heaped in the praises of their friends.

Eventually, the cheers died down. “Well, now what?” Rumble asked. “Scootaloo and I are in no condition for crusading. How are we gonna spend the rest of the weekend?”

Button’s eyes lit up, and his propeller beanie spun faster than ever.

***

“How do I make this guy duck?”

“Hey, Ah got a treasure chest!”

“Thanks for the celery sticks, Mrs. Button’s Mom!”

“You’re welcome!” Tender called back, before returning her attention to the charming Rarity, who was apparently Sweetie Belle’s big sister.

“I’ve never been to Baltimare,” she said. “Tell me, darling, does Ponyville compare at all favorably?”

Tender listened to the shouts and laughter of the foals in the other room, and her mouth quirked up in a smile. “Do you know, I rather think it is.”

The house had been transformed, after over a month, into a home.

A challenge overcome. An adversary defeated. An alliance forged. The Crusaders rest on their laurels, for the time being. Yet, a far greater foe lies ahead of them, one much more cunning and harsh.

Cutie Mark Crusader Fund Raisers

It is commonly thought that if there is anything that unites sapients, no matter their politics, religion, species, or culture, it is their hatred of Mondays. If anyone has managed to face the day with a smile, it is because they have developed a coping mechanism rather than out of any real joy.

Cheerilee proved this notion wrong on a regular basis. She valued her weekends, certainly. She enjoyed her free time, and relished the ability to sleep in on weekends. However, she also cared deeply for her students; they brightened her day.

Teaching them was more than simply her career, it was her passion. She loved every single one of her students. Even when they were all talking at once.

“Alright, everypony, settle down,” Cheerilee said firmly. The class quieted, and their teacher smiled. “Now, I’m sure you’re all eager to get to today’s math lesson…” a chorus of groans rose from most of the class. “...but first, we have some special guests.”

The groans quickly turned into excited muttering. “Everypony, please give a warm welcome to Twilight Sparkle and Pinkie Pie.”

The door to the schoolhouse swung open, and Pinkie bounced inside, followed closely by Twilight, who was carrying with her a stack of papers and a projector. “Goooood morning, everypony!” Pinkie cheered as she bounced to the front of the room. “Who’s ready to have a party?”

Wild cheering met her in reply. “Well, that’s what we’re here to talk about!” Pinkie continued. “There’s an ice cream party at Sugarcube Corner next Monday, and you’re all invited!”

The cheers were even louder this time. Twilight cleared her throat, to no avail. She glanced beseechingly at Pinkie, who quickly pulled a little can out of her mane.

An air horn blasted the room, and silence fell. “Thank you, Pinkie,” Twilight said, setting down her projector. “But before we get anypony any more excited, maybe I can explain why we’re having a party at all?”

“Okie-doke!”

Twilight turned to the class and smiled. “As I’m sure you all know, the recent royal wedding was badly disrupted by an
invasion of changelings.” The projector flicked on, and an image of several bug-like ponies battling a number of royal guards appeared on the screen.

“You also likely know that they were effectively repelled from Equestria by Princess Cadence and my brother, Prince-Consort Shining Armor,” Twilight continued, flipping to a photograph of the two at the altar.

“However,” she continued, turning to the class, “the changelings did far more damage than we initially suspected. Their invasion force was not limited to Canterlot. Smaller, but no less dangerous attacks occurred in Manehattan, Lawndon, Maris, Vanhoover, and St. Eligius. Princess Luna has reported no incidents on her trip to Copabanana, so we believe that no major thestral cities were targeted.

“This resulted in a great deal of property damage…” The image flicked to a row of demolished storefronts.

“... injured ponies, drained of love…” the image switched to a comatose stallion hooked to an IV drip.

“... and difficult conditions in general.” Twilight turned away from the image of a flooded street, where fireponies were helping a family into a life raft. “The government will be able to provide aid soon, but as Canterlot itself is in a state of disarray, it may be some time before the Royal Engineering Corps can be dispatched to any of the major cities.

“That’s where you come in,” Twilight continued. “Ponyville, along with several other unaffected towns, is working to raise money to buy supplies and labor to help with repairs. A sizable amount of Ponyville’s disaster relief fund has been sent already, but the mayor thinks that we can do better. So, we’re having a fundraiser.”

There was a dead silence that met her. Twilight grit her teeth and wore on. “You can donate as much or as little as you like; a portion of your allowance, some money made doing chores, a little from your piggy bank. Every little bit helps. A week from now, if over two hundred bits are raised, every student here will be invited to a celebratory ice cream social, as Pinkie said. The foal who raises the most money will--”

“Ooh, ooh, let me tell them, Twilight, let me!”

Twilight smiled. “Okay, Pinkie. Go ahead.”

Pinkie grinned. “I’ve been doing a lot of work recently, experimenting with baking and cooking and frosting, working to make the bestest-ever dessert of all time! And now, after almost three days off planning and scheming, I think I’ve outdone even myself. So, whoever raises the most money will receive not only an invitation to the ice cream party, but also the first-ever publicly available fudge brownie cookie-dough ice cream cake pie! It isn’t the first-ever one, ‘cause I had to try it first, and then I made one to show the Cakes, and another one for Real Princess Cadence and Shining Armor, and another one for Twilight to say sorry for being a not-listening nasty nincompoop. Nincompoop is a fun word, right? But it’s not so fun actually feeling like one.”

Twilight coughed, crossing one hind leg behind the other. “Well, it’s all forgiven now, Pinkie.”

“I know!” Pinkie chirped, bouncing slightly in place.

“Anyway, do any of you have questions?” Twilight asked, turning to the class. A yellow hoof shot into the air. “Apple Bloom?”

“Kin we work as a team?” she asked, hopefully.

“I don’t see why not, as long as you don’t mind splitting the prize when you’re finished,” Twilight replied.

The Crusaders exchanged looks of glee. There was no way anypony could beat all five of them together! “Diamond Tiara?” Twilight said.

“Can we borrow money from our parents?” the filly asked cagily, casting a side-eyed look at Silver Spoon.

“That’s between you and your parents. But yes, so long as they agree, that’s an acceptable method.”

Pinkie caught sight of the glances and glares among the students and frowned, but made no further comment. “No more questions? All right then, thank you all for your time,” Twilight said, packing away her equipment. “I’ve also made fliers for you to show your parents in case you, like Diamond, want to convince them to give you a little something extra. Thank you all for your time, and good luck to everypony.”

Twilight trotted back out the door to the sound of applause, Pinkie Pie bouncing along behind her. In the chaos, Scootaloo leaned into the aisle to glare at Silver Spoon. “Borrow all you like,” she growled. “We’ll mop the floor with you.”

Silver snorted contemptuously. “Please. We get more in our weekly allowance than you get in a year. Don’t embarrass yourself, Scootaloo, that’s what Diamond and I are here for.”

Scootaloo was about to retort when Cheerilee picked up the air horn that Pinkie had left behind and gave a short blast. “Now, settle down, everypony. Get out your math books and open them to page two-hundred seven.”

Scootaloo did as she was told, but continued to glare at Silver Spoon over the top of her book.

***

The Crusaders set out to work that very afternoon; it was, after all, a beautiful spring day, and if they could take advantage of the weather, they certainly would. They charged four bits to mow a yard, three to weed a garden, two to wash windows, and six to do none of the above, having discovered that ponies would, after seeing the ruins of their neighbors’ houses, pay good money to make the five foals stay away from their homes at all costs. After a good three hours work, they met back up at the clubhouse to pool their money.

“Well, we’ve made about sixty-eight bits,” Bloom announced, turning away from her tally-marked count. “How much ya reckon we still need?”

“Lots,” Rumble said, bouncing a ball off the clubhouse wall. “If those two ask their families to give extra dough, they will. Silver Spoon has family in Lawndon and St. Eligius, so her parents will give plenty.”

“An’ Filthy Rich is real good ‘bout givin’ money ta folk in need,” Bloom observed. “Ah dunno how he wound up with a filly like Diamond Tiara.”

“Well, if we keep working the way we have been, we can make four times that before the weekend,” Sweetie said.

Scootaloo shook her head. “Yeah, but we won’t. We’ll run out of ponies to do work for first, even if they don’t tell their friends what happened at Old Mare Joy’s house.”

Sweetie shuddered. “I was just trying to change her porch light! I don’t even know where all those spirits came from!”

“I know, I know,” Scootaloo sighed. “But that doesn’t change the fact that her house doesn’t technically exist anymore.”

Button furrowed his brow. “Okay… so what we need is to find somepony who needs a job done, but doesn’t care that much about neatness. Somepony willing to give that job to us. Somepony who doesn’t like to work, but has to do it anyway…”

Rumble missed the last bounce of the ball and sat up. “I got it!”

***

Rainbow Dash stared at the Crusaders through lidded eyes. “Gee. I’m honored,” she said.

Scootaloo stared at the ground, not daring to meet her mentor’s eyes. Rumble grinned. “Well, Cloudchaser always says that you spend all day napping on a cloud when you should be supervising the weather team,” he said innocently. “You sounded perfect.”

Dash glared at him. “Y’know, I’m almost tempted to have you try,” she said. “But if you did, that’d mess up the weather schedule, and I’d end up with the flack. So, I’m just going to put CC on Everfree duty for awhile, which I bet is what you probably wanted anyway.”

Rumble’s expression flashed from smug to shock to sheepish in the space of a moment. “Kinda,” he admitted.

Apple Bloom glared at him. “Seriously? Ya had us walk all th’ way out here an’ it wasn’t even fer serious?”

“It was so!” Rumble defended. “Yesterday, Cloudchaser stole my bed and pushed it out over the middle of town!”

“That doesn’t sound that bad…” Button said.

“While I was still sleeping in it?”

“Okay, Cloudchaser’s lame attempt at pranking aside, why do you guys need jobs, exactly?”

Sweetie launched into the spiel. Dash nodded, unusually solemn. “Yeah, it’s pretty terrible,” she agreed. “If I ever get my hooves on a changeling, they better watch out.”

“So, can you help us?” Button asked, tail wagging.

Dash smirked. “Sorry, kiddo. I haven’t got any jobs you could do from the ground.”

“Rumble and I could,” Scootaloo began, but Dash raised a hoof.

“Squirt, I love ya like a sister, but I heard about Old Mare Joy’s house. Actually, I flew through it. Did you know there’s a desert otherworld in there? It’s really, stupidly hot, so I left. Point is, I’m not letting any of you within fifty meters of my place unless I’m sure you haven’t got cleaning supplies.” She stared hard at them all for a long moment. This was a fatal mistake.

Each of the Crusaders possessed their own unique cuteness, ranging from Rumble’s skillful “I’m-not-crying-you’re-crying lip-tremble” to Apple Bloom’s classic “Ah-only-wanted-mah-cutie-mark pout” to Sweetie Belle’s entire existence. And though Dash was versed in staying cool even in the face of Scootaloo’s big puppy-dog eyes, she was wholly unprepared for the geometrically increased cuteness provided by the whole crew.

“Alright, alright,” she huffed. “I don’t have any jobs, but I know somepony who does.”

Scootaloo lit up like a match. “You do?” she gasped, wings buzzing.

“Yeah, Ditzy Doo,” Dash said. “Y’know, the mailmare?”

The Crusaders fell silent, cheers of delight falling flat on their lips. Rainbow frowned at their odd sullenness. “What's wrong with Ditzy Doo?” she asked. “She's almost nicer than Fluttershy.”

“Oh, there ain't nothin’ wrong with Ditzy,” Apple Bloom said quickly.

“She used to foalsit for me,” Scootaloo agreed. “She told good bedtime stories, and she always brought muffins.”

“Ditzy isn't the problem,” Rumble said. “The problem is Dinky.”

Dash stared. “Her daughter? Why, what's she like?”

There was a rush to reply. “Doesn't like anypony--” “Don't like ta make friends--” “--blew up a desk--” “--always studying!” “Mean!” “Sarcastic!” “Glares at anypony that tries to talk to her!”

“And she's dangerous!” they chorused.

“Even Diamond don’t pick on her. She’s too scared o’ what Dinky might do back!”

Dash scoffed. “Oh, c’mon. What’s the worst she could do?”

Ten flat, dead eyes met hers. “Kindergarten show’n’tell,” Bloom said flatly. “She brought in a potata clock. Some kids laughed at her fer powerin’ it with a tater. Next day, they sat down an’ got joy-buzzered by spuds.”

“First grade recess,” Scootaloo continued. “Launched a kid off the end of a teeter-totter ‘cause he’d made fun of her mom.”

“Second grade science fair,” Sweetie said. “Let’s just say that nopony who saw it will ever again look at noodles the same way.”

“And those are just the times she’s been caught,” Rumble concluded, glumly. “So we leave her alone as much as possible. She’s terrifying!”

Dash looked at them all sidelong. “Didn’t you guys almost burn down Applejack’s barn with lemons?”

“What’s yer point?”

“I’m just saying, if push comes to shove, I think you guys might just be a little more dangerous than she is.”

There was a little bit of uncomfortable shifting from the five. “Well, I guess you could look at it that way…” Button said.

“Uh-huh. Anyway, Ditzy’s got this… I dunno, some kind of conference. I didn’t ask for details. There’s some kind of replacement for her mail route, but she told me she needed somepony to watch her house and stuff. She’s leaving tomorrow, so you guys should decide now if you’re in or not.”

She looked at them all encouragingly. Apple Bloom scrunched up her nose. Rumble shuffled his hooves. Scootaloo squared her jaw, meeting her idol’s eye. “I’ll do it,” she said firmly. “We’ll do it.”

“Hold on,” Rumble objected, but he was cut off when Button and Sweetie both voiced their assent as well.

He glanced at Bloom, her lips pursed and her hooves planted. She nodded. “Alright,” she agreed.

Rumble dragged a hoof across his face. “Oh Celestia, I already know I’m gonna regret this,” he growled. “Fine. Cutie Mark Crusader Housesitters go.”

The others repeated his words, louder and more enthusiastically, then ran off to Ditzy’s house. Rainbow watched them go, grinning slightly. “Good luck!” she shouted after them as they turned from figures to specks to nothing at all in the distance. Then she sighed, fluffed up her cloud, and fell asleep once more.

***

By the time the Crusaders had arrived at Ditzy’s house, their sense of camaraderie and enthusiasm had dimmed, somewhat. “Go ring the bell,” Rumble muttered to Button.

“What? Why me?” Button protested.

“You’re the newest Crusader,” Rumble replied. “You gotta.”

“I don’t,” Button replied with some heat. “Scootaloo should do it, this was her idea.”

“Well, all of you agreed with me,” Scootaloo grumbled. “How much should we charge for this, anyway?”

Sweetie rubbed her chin. “I think we can probably go up to maybe thirty bits a day,” she said. “If only a couple of us work here at a time, while the others keep up the odd jobs around town, I think we can rake in, um…”

“Around seventy bits every day,” Scootaloo said. “Times the five days between when we start and finish, that’s three hundred fifty bits.”

There was a moment of silence. “Will that be enough?” Button asked.

“Dunno,” Scootaloo admitted. “But it’ll be a pretty big donation, either way.”

Apple Bloom set her jaw. “Right. Ah’ll go ring th’ bell.” She marched straight up to the front door and yanked on the bell-pull. A series of chimes rang out, and the filly stepped back.

From up above, the second-story window flew open, and a ball of feathers shot out, frantically flapping and attempting gymnastic feats. The Crusaders stared in silent befuddlement as the grey body landed on the grass, turned a somersault, and stumbled onto her hooves again. Ditzy smiled at the five. “Hello there,” she said. “I didn’t realize it was Filly Scout cookie season already.”

“Uh, it’s not,” Sweetie said.

“Oh.” Ditzy’s smile faded slightly, but quickly returned to its original intensity. “So what can I do for you kids then?” She gasped, excited. “Or are you here for Dinky?”

“No, ma’am. We’re here fer th’ house-watchin’ job? Rainbow Dash tole us you were goin’ outta town…”

“Oh, yes, the physics conference, I was just packing for it,” Ditzy nodded. “It’s a good thing you stopped by, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to find anypony in time! I can pay you all… mm, thirty-five bits a day, does that sound fair?”

There was a moment of stunned silence. The pegasus’s smile faded. “Oh, dear. I don’t know if I can go much higher…”

“It’s great!” Sweetie said hastily. “Thirty-five is really, really good. Uh, do we get a list of things to do, or, y’know, how often to do them?”

“That does sound like a good idea,” Ditzy agreed. “I’ll have one ready by the time I leave tomorrow. If you could meet me back here tomorrow at noon-- no, you have school. I’ll have Dinky give it to you, instead.”

“Uh, yes’m,” Button said.

“Great! I’m sorry I can’t stay and talk, but I’ve got to finish packing my notes. Thank you!” With as much care and caution as she had landed, Ditzy flapped her way back up to her window, dove in, and shut it behind her.

The Crusaders stared up in bewilderment. Rumble broke the silence first. “Physics conference?”

Scootaloo shrugged. “Basically everypony in town has hidden depths. Why not her?”

There was a general murmur of assent as they all trotted away. None of them paid notice to the glittering golden eye that peered at them from behind a curtain.

***

The next day was damp and overcast, but it at least had the virtue of not being Monday. The Crusaders met outside the school under the shelter of an elm tree. “I made an extra fifteen bits for helping Rarity dust under the cupboards!” Sweetie announced, excited.

“Ah asked Granny fer an advance on mah allowance,” Bloom agreed. “That’s twelve bits extra this week.”

“I smashed my piggy bank,” Button said. “That’s another forty bits.”

Sweetie’s eyes went wide. “You’re giving it all away?” she asked.

“Yeah. I mean, I’ll have to miss going to the arcade for a little while, and I… won’t get to buy…” he struggled with his words. “Won’t get to buy Selene Prime for a little while longer,” he eventually spat out.

The others watched as he took in a deep breath and visibly relaxed. “But I don’t think I could enjoy it all that much if I kept thinking about all those ponies in trouble,” he concluded with as much brightness as ever.

Rumble huffed. “I found seven bits in the couch cushions.”

Scootaloo shrugged. “I didn’t think to ask for any money, but I’ll do it when I get home.”

“That might not be for some time,” a quiet, yet cutting voice said. Everypony started and stared at the newly-arrived hooded figure.

“Dinky?” Button asked. “When did you get here?”

“About a minute ago, while you were having histrionics about not be able to afford a new video game.” Dinky pulled back the hood of her yellow raincoat and let her mane cascade over her withers. She stared at them emotionlessly. “Mom told me to give this to you,” she said, levitating a fairly thick scroll over to them.

Cautiously, Scootaloo took it from the air and looked it over. A frown creased her features for a moment, but she rolled up the letter again and it was gone. “Thanks, Dinky.”

“I suppose I’ll be seeing more of all of you over the next few days.”

“Guess so,” Sweetie agreed.

The tiny unicorn nodded. “Interesting. Good-bye, Crusaders. I will walk with you after school.” She turned and trotted toward the schoolhouse.

As soon as she was gone, Rumble stomped a hoof. “She’s literally half my size! Why the Tartar Sauce is she so scary?”

Scootaloo tucked the scroll into her saddlebag roughly. “We’ll have plenty of time to think about that this week,” she said. “C’mon, we’ll be late.”

***

School passed in a blur of facts and figures, and all too soon was over. The five made their way out of the school to wait for Dinky, who had stayed behind to ask Cheerilee some questions about the nature of light. “So,” said Scootaloo. “Who’s gonna go to Ditzy’s house, and who’s gonna go do other jobs?”

There arose almost immediately a squabble, which ended when Rumble stomped on a twig. The resounding crack echoed in the silence. “Eenie-meenie,” he said with finality. “First two picked go to Ditzy’s.”

“Fair,” Apple Bloom agreed. “Alright, go.”

Within two minutes, it was decided. Scootaloo and Apple Bloom would be housesitting today; the others would take their chances at home or around town. As Dinky exited the school building, Sweetie, Rumble, and Button all took their leave of their fellow Crusaders. “Right,” Dinky said, trotting past the duo without even slowing down. “Follow me, then.”

Scootaloo and Apple Bloom exchanged a glance, but fell into step behind her. “I don’t know why mom insisted on hiring these jobs out to other ponies,” Dinky said. “There’s nothing on that list that I can’t do perfectly well on my own, I’m certain.”

“Ah wouldn’t be so sure--”

“Hm?” Dinky turned her head and fixed Bloom with a golden-eyed stare.

“Ah mean,” Apple Bloom corrected, “there’s more’n a couple jobs on here that call fer more’n one pony.”

“Hm.” Dinky turned forwards again. “I see. Well, as long as you’re working for such an exorbitant fee, we may as well get some rules set down.”

“Isn’t exorbitant that stuff in sugar-free gum?” Scootaloo asked.

“You will do the jobs set down on the list. No others. You will then leave. During the time spent doing your work, you will keep any disturbances of me or my work to the absolute bare minimum.”

Apple Bloom opened her mouth to retort, but was prodded sharply in the side by a wing. She snapped her mouth shut again. “Fine,” she said flatly. “We’ll do our best. But y’all’re gonna need ta show us where the garden hose an’ suchlike are kept.”

“Very well,” Dinky agreed. She pushed open the gate and led the two Crusaders into the yard. At the edge of the front stoop, she turned abruptly and gave each of them a stern glare. “Seriously. Don’t interfere with my work. There’s very sensitive equipment in my room, and I don’t want my experiments messed up.”

“Fair enough,” Scootaloo agreed easily. “So, where’s the shed?”

Dinky opened the door and led them inside. “Brooms, shovels, and most gardening tools are in that closet,” she said gesturing. “Most of the indoor cleaning supplies are in the kitchen, under the sink. If they aren’t there, there’s a shelf in the bathroom you can check. The watering can is by the pump, which is in the southeast corner of the yard. Questions.”

Scootaloo pulled out the list and gave it the once-over. “No, I think that’s--”

“Excellent.” Dinky nodded once and gave each of them a thin smile. “Good luck.” Then, she trotted upstairs to her room.

She felt their gazes on her back as she trotted upstairs. Let them stare. Better gawked at than betrayed again.

***

“So, what-all’s first?” Bloom asked. They had gone over the list at lunchtime. There wasn’t too much on there-- privately, Apple Bloom couldn’t help but agree that Dinky could’ve done most of this alone. Still, she ought to be grateful that she didn’t have to do all this work, shouldn’t she? Then she remembered the kind note that Ditzy had left in the scroll, and she swallowed her annoyance.

Scootaloo consulted the scroll again. “Water the garden, dust the furniture, and weed the flowers,” she listed. “I’ll dust if you’ll water.”

“An’ we kin both weed,” Bloom nodded. “Alright. An’, uh, th’ other thing…”

Scootaloo scrunched her nose. “I know. But hey, we aren't getting this kinda money for lazing around. We can figure something out.”

“Ah hope so,” Bloom agreed, looking up at the house.

***

Dinky glanced out the window. Apple Bloom was still watering the flowers. Not terribly efficiently, she had to say; why she would use a watering can when there was a perfectly good hose to be had was beyond Dinky.

She turned back to her homework. Light, tonight; only a page of algebra and three chemistry problems. She pushed them aside. They would keep for now. She had more interesting work to do. She pulled out the metal hilt from where it sat, harmless-looking and apparently quotidian, on her bookshelf. Few knew its true nature; the prototype of a real-life plasma epee, straight out of Solar Battles.

When her mother had learned of Dinky’s plot to construct a sci-fi weapon, her only response was to smile genially, kiss the filly on the head, and tell her that Dinky's father would have been proud. That was almost enough to make her quit the project there and then; the idea that she was at all like her absentee father turned her stomach. But it hadn't been quite enough to keep her away for long.

“Soon,” she muttered, eyes flashing hungrily. “All will know and fear the might of Ater Kronos!”

There was a knock at her door, and Dinky froze. Out of sheer reflex, she shoved the device away from her. “Not now, Mom!”

There was a long, terrible silence. Dinky grit her teeth. “Shut up.”

“I didn't say anything!”

“Shut up anyway!” Dinky took in a deep breath. “What do you want, Scootaloo?”

“I’m dusting. Your room is the only one left on this floor, so lemme in.”

Dinky scowled, and her horn flashed gold. The door swung open. “I told you not to disturb me,” she said, not looking away from her desk.

“Not if we could help it,” Scootaloo corrected. “Well, I can't. This is just my job.”

Dinky made a noise that sat somewhere between an irate Doberman pinscher and a rusty gear. “Make it quick,” she muttered, sitting back in her seat.

“Sure.” Scootaloo fluffed out her feathers and opened the window. Then, she began to rapidly beat her wings over Dinky's bedspread. Little clouds of dust rose into the air, and Scootaloo drove them towards the open window.

“My mom does this faster.”

“Your mom has bigger wings than me,” Scootaloo replied, surprisingly evenly. “So, what is this big project you’re working on?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Just making conversation.”

Dinky made no reply. Scootaloo continued to dust, but she was frowning now. “Nice posters,” she said, gesturing to the wall.

Dinky whipped around. “What do you mean by that?” she snapped.

Scootaloo stopped flapping in surprise, and the dust cloud settled. “I just meant ‘nice posters’. Solar Battles is a good series. I really liked the whole ‘Ater Pater is Sky Runner’s dad’ thing. Good twist.”

“Not really. Ater Pater is just Pegasopolitan for ‘dark father’. Obvious in hindsight.”

“Well, yeah, but hindsight is 20-20. What, did you just watch one of the biggest twists in cinematic history and go, ‘oh, that makes sense’?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” Scootaloo looked around. “Star Trot is good too. I think I like that one even better than Solar Battles.”

“Which generation?”

“Oh, uh, hard call. The new--”

“I don’t care.”

Scootaloo returned to dusting in silence. “Oh, hey, is that a replica plasma epee?”

“No. It’s a real one.”

“C’mon, don’t be like that. It’s really nice.”

“I’m making it myself.”

“Neat! How does it work?”

Dinky picked up the hilt. “Do you really want to see?” she asked, pointing it at Scootaloo.

“Uh, yeah!”

Dinky hovered over the button. “Really?”

Scootaloo stared down the barrel of the device. “Uh, maybe another time,” she muttered, turning away.

Dinky grunted, a satisfied smirk crossing her face as the pegasus finished dusting and left the room.

***

“She's just… ugh!” Scootaloo stabbed at a weed with her hoof. “Impossible!”

“Maybe ya just didn't start out on the right hoof,” Bloom suggested, peering over at her friend from the other side of the garden plot.

“No! I tried to talk about what she was interested in and she shut me down like that!” She stomped for emphasis, crushing a dahlia by accident.

Bloom frowned, and Scootaloo sheepishly lifted her hoof and kicked some dirt over the unfortunate flower. “An’ then she threatened you with some sci-fi laser weapon?”

“I can’t believe you don’t know what a plasma epee is, but yes. Just for trying to be friendly!”

“Hm.” Bloom scrutinized a particularly deep-seated root for a moment. “I dunno what ta tell ya, Scoots. Mebbe she just don’t want friends.”

“Who doesn’t want friends?”

Bloom shrugged. “Dunno. Her, Ah guess.”

“Ugh.”

“C’mon, chin up. We’ll get th’ job done some way or another.”

Scootaloo huffed and jabbed at another thick-leafed plant with her hoof. “Look at all these weeds! How did Ditzy let them get this bad?”

“Scoots, that’s a hosta. It’s meant ta be there.”

There was a long, terrible pause as both fillies stared at one another, then back at the area of ripped-off stalks that Scootaloo had cleared. “Ah’ll get a shovel.”

“And duct tape.”

***

The next day, Sweetie Belle was selected to work at the house of Doo. Immediately after she was chosen, Button volunteered to go along with her. Rumble rolled his eyes, muttering something about ‘better you than me’, but Button chose not to pay him any mind. Instead, he trailed along behind Sweetie as she pored over the list. “Looks like we’re going to clean the kitchen and the bathrooms,” she said. “After that, laundry. Does that sound okay?”

“Uh-huh,” Button replied. He really wasn’t listening to what Sweetie was saying. He was too busy staring at his JoyBoy, tapping away at the screen. He was one of only a hoofful of ponies in town who had mastered the art of walking on two legs, and he was using that skill now to play Catchimals Move! with both forehooves.

Sweetie glanced back. “You’re going to want to put that somewhere safe while we’re working,” she warned.

“K.”

“You can’t play games while we’re doing chores.”

“Mm-hm.”

“I need you to recalibrate the most recent styrofoam grapefruit.”

“Alright.”

Sweetie sighed and turned back to the list. “Don’t forget, be nice to Dinky. If we make her angry, I don’t wanna think about what she’ll do.” She nodded firmly. “We’re going on the charm offensive,” she declared. “We’ll make that filly be our friend come Tartarus or tempests.”

“Yeah!”

Sweetie glanced back, surprised at the relevant interjection. “I caught a manotaur!” Button crowed. “Half-manatee, half-minotaur! What should I call him?”

Rolling her eyes, Sweetie faced front again as they approached the house of Doo.

***

Dinky blinked as she heard the doorbell ring, looking up from where she lounged on the couch. She lit her horn and the front door swung open. “You’re late,” she said flatly. “You were meant to walk me home from school.”

“Sorry,” Sweetie said. “I had to run an errand for Rarity, first. But we’re here now!”

“Hmph,” Dinky replied.

“It’s nice to see you,” Sweetie tried.

“Pah.”

“I heard you did really well on that math test the other day!”

“As if there were ever a doubt.” Dinky flipped a page in her book, studying a diagram of thaumic flow through a capacitor.

Sweetie glanced back at Button. “Help me out,” she hissed.

Button shuffled his hooves. “Uh, hey, Dinky.”

“What?”

Button’s mind raced. What could he possibly say to pique her interest? Something about video games? No. ‘What are you reading?’ Probably a technical explanation that he couldn’t hope to follow. ‘So, do ya like jazz?’ Um, no.

“How much money have you raised for the fundraiser?” he blurted.

She paused halfway through turning a page. “Fifty bits,” she replied. “I smashed my piggy bank.”

“That’s really good,” Button complimented. “Are you teaming up with anypony else?”

“No.”

“Oh.” Button considered this. “Would you like to?” he asked.

Sweetie stared at him in alarm. “What are you doing?” she hissed.

Dinky actually set her book aside to sit up and scrutinize the colt more closely. “You’re new in town, aren’t you?”

Button scuffed a hoof in the linoleum. “Um. I’ve been here for three months now…”

“New enough, then. Let me tell you one thing. I work alone. No exceptions.”

He looked at the floor. “Oh.” He glanced up again. “Um, well, once we’re done here, I don’t think we have any other jobs to do. Would you maybe like to go out and play?”

“Yes.” Dinky said flatly. “I love going out to play. I do it all the time. You always see me out of doors, horsing around with my myriad chums, laughing like billy-o.”

Button beamed. “Great! That sounds like fun! I can’t wait.”

Dinky blinked, lizard-like. Sweetie coughed. “He doesn’t really do sarcasm,” she muttered. “Too earnest.”

“Ah,” Dinky nodded. “Yes, I see. Button, I don’t think I made myself quite clear. Allow me to rephrase my statement.”

He looked up, eyes wide and friendly. She stared into those deep, open orange irises and said, clearly, “I want to stay inside and read. By myself.”

She felt a little guilty, watching the light drain from his eyes. There was a reason she didn’t like talking to other ponies. Their weakness made her feel terribly awkward. Really, though, he did set himself up for that. She repeated that to herself as the colt burst into tears and Sweetie Belle led him away.

***

The next day, at recess, the Crusaders met under the elm. Rumble looked grim as Sweetie explained what had happened the day before. “You did get the jobs done?”

“Yeah, once Button stopped crying.”

“How long did that take?”

Sweetie scrunched her muzzle. “Less than an hour?”

“Oh. Well, that’s… good?” Scootaloo tried.

“Yeah, I think I’m getting better at not letting things get to me!” Button said proudly.

“Fine,” Rumble huffed. “So it’s my turn now. Who’s going with me?”

Scootaloo and Apple Bloom exchanged looks. Eventually, the latter sighed. “Fine. But Ah don’t gotta go back again, ya hear?”

Scootaloo nodded. “Okay, sure. But guys, we’ve got to do something about Dinky.”

“How about a hoof sandwich?” Rumble asked.

“Ha ha. No.”

“Kidding,” Rumble said, rolling his eyes. “Mostly kidding…”

“Don’t do anything like that when you’re at her house later on, okay?” Sweetie said.

Rumble put a hoof to his heart. “Colt Scout’s honor.”

***

Rumble had never been a Colt Scout.

***

It had started out so simply. All they had to do was wash the windows and trim the hedges. They didn’t even need to go inside, or see Dinky at all. Rumble wasn’t ‘happy’, per se, but he was prepared to accept this compromise.

Then Apple Bloom had cut her hoof on a thorn bush and the situation had changed. That was fine. Rumble was perfectly willing to go inside and fetch out a medical kit, Dinky or no Dinky.

Unfortunately, he hadn’t been able to find a medical kit. So he had to ask Dinky. She had rolled her eyes and grumbled a lot, but she fetched down the first-aid kit from under the kitchen sink. Rumble ignored the snark. He had been guilty of being rude to other foals before. He was prepared to let this slide, though he did bite his tongue hard enough to draw blood once or twice when she complained about Apple Bloom’s carelessness.

Then they had gone outside to where Bloom was sitting in the shade. She looked up at the approaching duo and smiled. “Thanks, you two.”

Dinky snorted. The hairs on the back of Rumble’s mane stood on end. “Don’t thank me,” she said shortly. “I had nothing to do with it.”

Something inside Rumble broke. “Are you serious right now?” he demanded, turning on Dinky. “You don’t want to talk. You don’t want to play. Everything about you screams that you don’t want to be our friend. But now you won’t even take gratitude? Exactly what is with you that means you don’t even want to talk to us mere mortals?”

For the first time, Dinky looked off-balance. She recovered quickly. “Why do you want to know?” she shot back.

Rumble stared at her. “Because! Because you’ve insulted my friends! Because you threatened Scootaloo! Because you made Button cry! Because I don’t want to put up with this horseapples anymore!” He took a deep breath.

“Because I’ve been there, too,” he continued. “Because I’ve sat alone in my room, hating the world. Because I didn’t have any friends either. Because, Celestia help me, I care about you. I care about ponies. Terrible habit, I know, but there. you. Are.”

His wisteria eyes cut into Dinky like spades. “So. Do you want to talk or not?” he demanded.

A moment’s pause. Then, without a word or a backwards glance, Dinky turned and walked back into the house. Rumble cursed once, and then all was silence.

“...Think y’all kin patch me up, now?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“...Are you okay?”

Rumble didn’t say another word as he tore a bandage off the roll.

***

Dinky slammed the door behind her and slumped back, drawing in a deep, shuddering sob of a breath. How dare he. How dare he pry into her life like that? How dare he try to guilt her into telling her secrets? How dare he try and care about her? She stared at the wall, not really seeing it. What the Tartarus did he know, anyway? Who had he ever been hurt by?

She resisted the tiny voice in the back of her head that whispered quietly, anypony and everypony, and you'd never know. If you'd only listened...

"Shut up," she growled.

Talking to yourself is the first sign of madness.

"Then shut up so I'm not."

It fell silent, and Dinky buried her head in her hooves.

***

When she lifted her head again, it was noticeably darker outside, and the deepening shadows oozed across the room. Apple Bloom and Rumble would have gone home long ago. Dinky shoved the door open and stomped downstairs to have dinner.

She threw open the fridge door and stared inside for a long, detached moment. Then, she pulled out a Tupperware container of pasta that her mom had prepared before leaving for the conference. She wished her mom was here now. She was glad her mom wasn't here right now. She slammed the fridge door and grabbed a fork out of the silverware box. She dug in savagely before she even got to the kitchen table.

She clambered up into her chair, not ceasing her attack on her asparagus ravioli as she did so. She let her supper clatter to the table, still cold from the fridge. There was a scroll sitting in the center of the table.

Dinky stared at it for a long moment. Was that-- it was! The job scroll for the Crusaders! Was this their way of resigning? She felt another pang of guilt, but quashed it with prejudice. She unrolled the parchment and glanced over it. The first three days had all been checked off, which meant that there were two days of chores for Dinky to do. Alone, she supposed.

Then, she caught sight of more writing below the last day's checklist, scribbled in different-colored ink from the rest of the scroll, almost as if it had been written in later. Frowning, she pulled the paper closer and read.

Dear Crusaders,

Thank you all for volunteering to help while I'm away; I'm sure you're all very busy with school and attempting to get your cutie marks. I think that the amount of work I've laid out for you shouldn't interfere terribly with your lives. However, I have one last request to make of you. I can't pay you for this job, and it's entirely up to you if you will accept it or not. You'll get the money for house-sitting either way. But please, hear this mother's plea. My daughter is alone. She doesn't make friends easily. There's a story behind why, but not one that I feel I should burden you with. Suffice it to say, she and I were both hurt very badly by somepony we trusted. I recovered from the betrayal. Dinky didn't.

I'm afraid for my daughter. She pushes away everypony except me, hides her beauty from the world out of fear that she may be loved. She hurts those around her, but the one she hurts most is herself. Please, if you can, try to talk to her. Just a little bit? She can't stay alone forever. She shouldn't have stayed alone for this long. Won't you please help me break down her barriers?

Thanks again,

Ditzy

Dinky let the parchment fall to the table, her face numb. She sat there for a long moment. Her golden aura tarnished to a mustard shade, and with a wild cry, she threw her dinner to the floor. She stormed from the room, haunted by memories of a cheerful purple unicorn.

***

The next day, the Crusaders didn't have to go to Dinky. She came to them. She trotted quickly through the apple orchard, where the heavy green canopy sheltered her from the sun. Every step was quick and staccato, each centimeter forwards fraught with doubt about the welcome she would receive. Had she gone too far? Would they accept her apologies? She should turn around now.

Not a chance, the little voice at the back of her head whispered.

So on she walked until she could see a little fort hidden up in the trees. Well. 'Little' was a misnomer. So was 'hidden', come to that. The place was a huge mass of firepony poles and ladders and windows and telescopes, and that was just what she could see from a distance. The closer she got, the more intimidating it grew. But she was determined not to be frightened by a mere building. She drew up close and knocked on the trapdoor.

There was a long silence. Then the hatch swung open, and Scootaloo poked her head out. "Oh. Uh, hi, Dinky. Um, I dunno how to tell you this, but I think we sort of--"

"Quit, yes," Dinky agreed. She took a deep breath. "I've come to apologize."

Scootaloo said nothing, but moved out of the way. Dinky trotted up the stairs and into the clubhouse. Five pairs of eyes bored into her. She closed the hatch with a backwards kick and met their eyes, one by one. "I suppose you're curious about what incited all this," she said, voice brittle.

There was a quiet murmur of denials. "You don't have to," Rumble said flatly.

"I had a stepfather. He was kind and nice, and acted like he loved me and my mother. He lived with us for nearly a year. Then he skipped town with most of our savings, and we never saw him again." She glared around the room. "Suffice it to say, I no longer trust easily."

Silence. Button looked to be about to say something, but Apple Bloom jabbed him in the ribs. "But?" she prompted.

Dinky huffed. "But that doesn't excuse the way I acted," she continued. "You were... genuinely trying to be nice to me. I pushed you away even harder than usual. I'm..." she swallowed back something phlegmy. "Sorry."

They all exchanged glances and grins. Rumble stuck out a hoof. "Apology accepted."

Sweetie leaned forwards, eyes sparkling. "Does this mean you want to be a Crusader?"

Dinky screwed up her mouth into a thoughtful scowl. "Well... I've just learned that my mother thinks me antisocial, and on reflection, I can't disagree. This seems as good a place as any to get over that."

They seemed ready to cheer, but Dinky held up a hoof. "On one condition!"

Silence fell as Dinky looked around the room once more. "I have to swear some kind of oath, correct?"

"Yep! I rewrote it and everything!" Scootaloo said proudly.

"I want all of you to retake it as well." She looked around the room. "If I'm swearing loyalty, I want loyalty sworn to me as well."

The Crusaders said nothing, but glanced at one another. Then, Apple Bloom nodded. "Can't say fairer'n that," she agreed. "Alright. We'll do it tomorra, after we get the initiation set up."

"Initiation?"

"We gotta make sure you can keep up with us somehow."

"Hmph. Fine."

Scootaloo cocked her head. "So... does this mean you're going to team up with us for the fundraiser and beat Diamond and Silver?"

Dinky considered this. Then, she grinned ferally. "Let's crush them."

***

The day had come. The hour was now. The six Crusaders had raised a grand total of three hundred and seventy-nine bits. They, along with all the other children in town, had gathered at Sugarcube Corner for the big announcement; who would win? Who would lose?

Pinkie and Twilight stood on a makeshift stage set up against one wall, staring out and smiling at the audience as the children buzzed with excitement. That buzz rose to a dull roar as Pinkie stepped up to the microphone. “Guys, gals, and nonbinary pals… are you ready for this?”

The foals broke out into wild cheers. Pinkie cocked her head. “I can't heeeaar you…”

Louder cheers, interspersed with whoops and whistles.

Pinkie pulled out an ear trumpet. “A little bit louder?”

“Pinkie.” Twilight was frowning at her.

“On second thought, I guess I probably did hear you that time,” Pinkie acknowledged, tucking the hearing aid away. She beamed at Cheerilee’s class. “So without further ado, let's have that envelope, huh?”

Cheers rang out again. Pinkie glanced around. “Now, if my lovely assistant would just give it to me…”

Gummy, dressed in a sequined, scale-tight leotard, sat motionless on a table, the envelope tucked in his mouth. Pinkie grabbed the alligator and pulled him close. “Thank you, lovely assistant!”

Spike leaned over to Rumble. “Man, that gator has it easy. I get letters from miles away, see if Twilight ever calls me her lovely assistant.”

“Shh!” all the Crusaders hissed.

Spike raised his claws. “Okay, fine. I’ll suffer in silence.”

“And the winner of the competition, and the first pony to try my fudge brownie cookie dough ice cream cake pie is… drum roll, please…”

The foals obligingly put their hooves on the table, filling Sugarcube Corner with anticipation and noise. Pinkie ripped open the envelope, and a shower of confetti poured out.

“Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon, who raised four hundred and seventy-three bits! Wow! Let's hear it for these two, everypony!”

Wild whoops and cheers filled the crowd. The two rich fillies stood up, smiling at the grown-ups and smirking at their peers. Silver Spoon gave an especially saccharine smile to Scootaloo, who merely rolled her eyes and sat back.

Apple Bloom sighed. “Well, we gave it our all,” she said, watching ruefully as the pair of bullies sat down at the booth with the dessert. “That's all anypony kin ask.”

Ditzy smiled at all six foals. “I’m so proud of all of you,” she said, wrapping her wings around the group.

“But we didn't win,” Dinky grumped. “All that work, and what was it for?”

“Ice cream party?” Sweetie pointed out.

“Helping ponies?” Rumble suggested.

“Knowing that we helped rebuild a whole actual city?” Button added.

Dinky grumbled incoherently, but she looked at the duo enjoying their dessert with a little less envy.

“Now, as for the rest of you,” Pinkie continued, looking back at the foals. “First, I’ve just gotta say. Wow. Wowee-wow-wow! Do you all know how much you raised? Cause it's a lot. It's a lot more than we were expecting! We only really thought you guys could raise maybe a thousand bits. Maybe, maybe, one and a quarter thousand. But you ponies raised one and a half thousand bits! That's fifteen hundreds! That's one hundred and fifty tens! That's a whole lot of money! Everypony was so impressed with you guys? Are you impressed with yourselves?”

A chorus of yes-es and cheers met this question. Pinkie’s grin threatened to reach blinding levels of brightness. “We were all so impressed, we just had to do something extra-special for you,” she said. “So, I stayed up late all last night with Mr. Cake, but not Mrs. Cake, ‘cause she's pregnant and needs her rest, and we made you each a mini-tiny fudge brownie cookie-dough ice cream cake pie! Glamorous assistant! Show them what they've won!”

Gummy had at some point crawled over to the table and held a corner of the cloth in his mouth. He tottered on the edge, and fell to the ground, taking the cloth with him and revealing about two dozen bowls full of pure sugary goodness. Silence reigned for a full moment. Even Diamond and Silver stopped eating their giant version of the dessert to gaze at the table in shock. And then the cheering started again. Pinkie could definitely hear them, this time.

***

“Ah, that hit the spot,” Sweetie said, sitting back. “I couldn't eat another bite.”

“I don't think I can finish the rest of mine,” Scootaloo said, pushing away her bowl.

Button brightened. “Can I have it?”

“Go crazy.” Scootaloo rested her head on the table. “Ugh.”

“Psst, Scoots!” Bloom gestured to Diamond and Silver. The silver filly had fallen onto her back, clutching her stomach. Diamond was looking rather green as she contemplated the next spoonful of dessert. At length, she dropped the spoon into the bowl and collapsed into the upholstery. Scootaloo snorted a laugh, and the others chuckled, too.

Just for a moment, Dinky forgot her sorrows. She forgot the pain and the emotions she'd bottled away. She forgot Ponet, and she forgot her mother's tears, and she forgot her own hardened heart. Just for a moment. But it was a start.

Author's Note

I'm shelving this story. Possibly this will be a temporary measure, which is why I'm leaving it marked as 'on hiatus' rather than 'cancelled' for the time being. However, I don't think that's particularly likely.

If you're reading this, you've just slogged through three very long and-- though I say so myself-- very tedious chapters, only to reach a tepid cop-out of a conclusion. As such, I feel I owe you some explanation. This style, the long chapters, a self-contained story in each, doesn't suit me. In many ways, the form is too short, and in others, it's too long. The pacing is arrhythmic and uncontrolled. It's just a disaster in general. I made a mistake, and I simply can't continue with it any longer. Someday, I may return to this story and attempt a rewrite, but again, that is a remote possibility.

That said, I am fond of many of the ideas explored in this story, and the expanded Crusaders will absolutely be returning in later stories, which I hope you all will enjoy. In the meantime, I'll be turning my energy to "Growing Pains", which is a story about growth, self-acceptance, love, and the meaning of maturity, and to my new work-in-progress, "Friendship 101: the Final Exam", which is about eccentric academics who tend to blow stuff up.

Okay. That's all for this story. It's you time now. Time to sit back on a chair stuffed with MOTHBALLS, cuddle up with a plush version of your favorite pony, MOIST VON LIPWIG, and read a fanfiction about ANTS.