When We Break

Chapters

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Epilogue

Chapter 1

It all happened so fast.

One second, Twilight Sparkle was minding her own business on a pleasant afternoon stroll through the streets of Canterlot, and the next moment, her life was almost flashing before her eyes.

It was supposed to be just a brisk walk through the city’s oldtown to find a hole-in-the-wall bookstore that she had read about in the local newspaper. Sure, oldtown had a reputation for being a seedier part of the city, but those were just exaggerations that grown-ups liked to throw around to scare kids, weren’t they? Having been grabbed by the collar and pulled into a dark and narrow alley, Twilight was now discovering that there was some truth to the stories.

Twilight barely even had time to realize what was going before she was thrown into the nearby wall, her back slamming against an old drain pipe that clattered like a dinner bell announcing it was feeding time. Before her stood her assailant, an older teenager of a deep orchid complexion who loomed over her with a hungry, predatory glare. However, the size didn’t matter much as Twilight’s gaze remained fixated on the switchblade pointed squarely at her neck. Though mere inches away, she swore she could feel its tip teasing at her skin.

Every ounce of her wished that she could close her eyes and upon opening them once more, she’d find herself in bed with Spike curled up at her side and the safe tranquility of her bedroom all around. There would be no such mercy, however, as the jackhammering of her heart was proof enough that this all was very much real. A shiver ran up her spine as the flat of the blade pressed up against her chin, and slowly tilted her eyes upward until her gaze met with the other girl’s. Piercing green eyes glared back at her, a vicious glint that left no doubt in Twilight’s mind that this girl meant business. As she tried to look away, her focus instead settled on the lengthy scar her assailant had over one eye.

“Here’s the deal, kid, I want your phone and all of your valuables,” the assailant spoke up, her voice dripping with collected but playful malevolence. “Give them up nicely, if you don’t mind, and you get to keep that pretty little face of yours.” And just to emphasize her point, she turned the blade just enough so that the edge now rested against Twilight’s chin.

Any words Twilight might’ve had before, either pleas for mercy or fleeting protest, were nowhere to be found; they had long since fled for safety, leaving her alone to deal with this threat. She held up her backpack, or at least as best she could as her hands were trembling so badly that she had trouble just keeping a grip on it.

“Smart move, kid.”

When her assailant reached up to take the bag, Twilight noticed something else about the other girl. Instead of a free hand snatching away her possessions, there was just a stump, ending about halfway up the girl’s forearm and covered up by the coat’s rolled-up and pinned sleeve. That would explain why the mugger had been holding the knife in her left hand the entire time.

Unfortunately, Twilight’s change in focus did not go unnoticed. The flat of the blade tapped against her cheek in an incessant and impatient manner.

“Hey, eyes up,” the mugger warned. “The knife is what you need to be worried about, okay?”

“S-sorry,” Twilight squeaked, driven by instinct and fear more than anything else. “W-why are you doing this?”

The assailant withdrew her blade, freeing up her hand so that she could rummage through the bag in order to take a quick assessment. Everything Twilight had with her was in there: her phone, her purse, her schoolwork. Everything. The other girl helped herself to what seemed valuable and tucked them away into her coat, which was an old surplus military jacket that had clearly seen better days.

“Because some of us need to eat, and your patronage is greatly appreciated,” the girl quipped as she tossed the bag back to Twilight. Just as she was about to leave, though, her eyes caught sight of one last treasure: a purple geode affixed to the pink ribbon Twilight wore. “I’ll be taking that, too!” she said before snatching the brooch off the other girl.

“Hey! You can’t—”

Twilight’s words came to an abrupt and forceful halt when her assailant slammed into her. Despite the mugger only having two-thirds of an arm, it was still able to pin her up against the alleyway wall, the forearm pressing up into Twilight’s neck. It didn’t quite cut off her airway, but it was just enough to let her know that it was only because of some twisted sense of mercy.

“You must be new to this,” mused the amused and malicious voice, “so I’ll be gentle with you.”

There were many words Twilight could’ve used to describe how the last few minutes had gone, and gentle was definitely not one of them. Terrifying, sadistic, or barbaric, yes, but not gentle. Nor would it describe how she felt when the other girl suddenly drove her fist right into Twilight’s gut. The air shot out of her faster than out of a popped balloon, and she similarly crumpled to the ground in a wheezing heap.

“Now, be a good little girl, and stay down.”

Not that Twilight was in any condition to contest that, even if she wanted to. The pain was almost unimaginable, and it was taking every ounce of willpower she had just to force her lungs to cooperate with her. All she could do was lay there in that filth-ridden alley, clutching at her stomach as she trembled in agony and struggled for every breath, each of which felt like trying to inhale fire.

It took several minutes before the pain finally ebbed away enough for her to claw her way back onto her feet. With a groan and a whimper, she pawed at the nearby drain pipe, then used it to slowly climb up until she was finally upright again. After leaning on the pipe for a few moments to regain balance, she set about gathering what remained of her belongings. Her mind was still reeling from everything that happened, uncertain of how to feel or think. She felt almost numb, as if she just shut down all emotion until she knew it was safe again to feel.

One thing, however, did stick to her mind, even more than the look on that girl’s face when she pressed the knife to her chin.

“I… I know her.”

The next day saw Twilight Sparkle in the school library bright and early, more so than usual in order to give herself enough time to work. She sat at one of the library computers with her eyes fixated on the screen as picture after picture scrolled across it, each accompanied by a subtle click of the mouse, the only noise to punctuate an otherwise silent environment.

Click.

A picture of Twilight Sparkle alongside Dean Cadance, both of whom stood on opposite sides of a large golden trophy. It was her first win at the school’s science fair during her first year at Crystal Prep Academy. She still remembered how proud her parents were that day, and how nervous she felt having to get onto a stage in front of so many of her classmates. It had almost been enough to make her throw up in front of Principal Cinch.

Click.

Next up a picture of two girls on stage in Crystal Prep’s auditorium. It was Sugarcoat and some other girl whose name escaped her at the moment. The caption below said it was the first meeting of the school debate club. She remembered that Sugarcoat managed to set a school record for fastest time to make an opponent break down in tears.

Suddenly, a hand fell upon Twilight’s shoulder, followed by a cheerful, “There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you.”

In an instant, she was no longer sitting in the school library, but instead back in that alleyway, staring down the edge of a knife held by a deranged woman. She shrieked and pulled away as a tidal wave of fear and panic overcame her, almost falling out of her chair in the process. It was only after she caught herself did the rational part of her mind take hold again, and realized that the person standing next to her was a worried-looking Sunset Shimmer.

“Are you okay, Twilight?” her friend asked.

“I-I’m fine,” Twilight said as she took a moment to settle her nerves and readjust her glasses. “You just, uh… startled me there.”

“Sorry about that. I was just wondering where you were since I didn’t see you out front where we usually meet, and you weren’t answering any of my texts,” Sunset explained. Her eyes then drifted over to the computer screen, looking to fill in the details that she lacked. “What’s all this about? You taking a walk down memory lane?”

“Actually, I’m trying to look up somebody,” Twilight explained. With her momentary panic subsided, she turned back to the computer in order to resume her work. “I sort of… ran into somebody yesterday, and I’m certain I’ve seen them before.”

“And you think they went to Crystal Prep with you?”

Twilight nodded as she cycled to the next image. “It’s the most logical explanation since this would’ve been before I met you or the other girls. Crystal Prep is the most likely place I would’ve been around somebody long enough to vaguely remember them.”

Growing more curious, Sunset pulled up a chair and sat down to watch her friend work, scrolling through picture after picture. Crystal Prep appeared to keep meticulous photo records of their accomplishments, which were numerous; in fact, it seemed like one didn’t get their picture taken unless they had won something.

After several minutes of repeated clicking and mumbled nopes, Twilight’s eyes widened, accompanied by an elated, “There she is!”

The photo contained about a dozen Crystal Prep students, all in matching black and purple uniforms and several of whom held baseball bats, and the title read ‘Crystal Prep Junior Girls Softball Divisional Champions’. Amongst them stood the orchid-toned teen that Twilight met the day before, standing a few inches taller than all of the other girls with a calm, but confident posture, like the notion of ‘divisional champions’ had been an expected conclusion. The girl in the picture looked much more pleasant than that of the day before, as well as lacking the disfigurements.

“Nice mohawk,” Sunset commented, noting the girl’s rather peculiar hair style. She leaned in closer to read the bottom caption, finding the girl’s name after a moment. “Fizzlepop Berrytwist. Did you know her very well?”

“No, though I think I had a few run-ins with her,” Twilight said, pausing to tap upon her cheek in thought. “She was in the year ahead of me, and she was into a lot of sports. We never really ran in the same social circles—not that I really ran in any back then. If I remember correctly, one day she just stopped showing up at school. I’ve never really thought about it up until now.”

“Did she remember you?” Sunset asked, still blissfully unaware of what events led Twilight to this investigation.

Twilight shook her again, though she didn’t answer at first as she was deep in thought, delving through her memories for everything she could recollect about Fizzlepop. “She was… different than I remember,” she eventually answered. “Something must’ve happened. I wonder what.”

Before Sunset could say anything further, the school bell began to chime, beckoning the students to make haste before classes began. She rose from her seat and patted her friend on the shoulder. “Well I’d say don’t worry too much about it, but knowing you, you’ll be stuck thinking about it all day,” Sunset said in a playful tease. “Maybe you should go find this girl and ask. Now come on, before we’re late for homeroom.”

Twilight nodded and logged off the library computer. Her friend made an interesting suggestion, though she knew if Sunset had all of the details, she would’ve insisted never going within a hundred yards of Fizzlepop again. Still, her curiosity was piqued, and something inside her told her that she couldn’t just ignore this.

Crystal Prep Academy

Three years ago

“Hey, watch where you’re going!”

Despite how angry the other girl sounded, Twilight came out of the accidental collision far worse than her. The first-year, spectacled student, long before she learned of magic or friendship, was still sprawled across the ground as her fellow Crystal Prep classmate chastised her. She scrambled to try and gather up her books which had been left strewn across the floor about her, all whilst muttering out hurried apologies.

“I-I’m sorry, I-I didn’t see you there…”

For Twilight Sparkle, still only a few months into her time at the prestigious academy, keeping her head down and unnoticed was her best strategy for survival amongst a student body known for its intense, competitive nature. On this particular morning, however, a moment of inattentiveness has caused her to run afoul of one of those students.

A quick apology and a quicker retreat was all she needed: minimize the interactions, minimize the problems. As she reached for the last of her books, however, the other girl scooped it up just a second before her.

“What’s this you got here?” the student mused as she examined the book. “Calculus, huh? A little bit advanced for somebody your age, don’t you think?”

“I-I was just… I mean, I wasn’t—” Soft-spoken and utterly terrified of the stronger, more confident student, Twilight’s words began tumbling out of her mouth like dropped change.

The other student casually flipped through the pages, though the fact that she kept her eyes focused on Twilight betrayed what her real aims were. “I think I might just have to hold onto this. Can’t let you get ahead of the rest of us,” she said before snapping the book shut.

“What? No, that’s mine!” an aghast Twilight exclaimed. In desperation, she lunged for the book, but the other student had been counting on that and twisted out of the way. A ridiculing laugh echoed through the hall as Twilight stumbled about, making repeated efforts to reclaim her book, only to be led about on a fruitless and humiliating chase.

“Come on, if you want it back, just take it!” the student continued the relentless taunting.

Little did the student know, just behind loomed the towering, mohawked young Fizzlepop, and the expression on her face broadcasted a sentiment of restrained annoyance, like a parent enduring their tantrum-throwing toddler. With the thief’s attention still on Twilight, Fizzle snatched the book from her grasp.

“Hey! What’s the big ide—” The other student’s words came to an abrupt halt when she spun around and saw who it was. Her face froze into an expression normally reserved for face-to-face meetings with hungry, wild animals, and whatever bravado she may have felt earlier was a forlong memory now. “H-hey Fizzle. I… I didn’t see you there. I was just—”

Once again, her words were interrupted, this time by Fizzle tapping the book against her head, not enough to hurt, but firm enough to get her attention.

“Knock it off!” Fizzlepop warned.

“Come on, Fizz, I was just joking!”

There was another loud ‘thump’ as the book came down upon the student’s head.

“I don’t care! You know the coach is cracking down on troublemakers; if he catches you like this, he’ll have you on the bench in a heartbeat. The divisional tournament is next week, and we’re not losing our title because our second-best hitter decided to act out.”

“S-sorry, Fizz.”

“Don’t be sorry, just don’t do it again.” She lifted the book up as if she were about to smack the misbehaving student again, but seeing the other girl wince in anticipation gave her pause. Eventually, she just sighed and pushed the girl aside, using the book to physically guide her away. “Practice is in fifteen: go get the equipment from storage.”

Without another word, the girl hurried on her way, the look of desperate relief on her face conveying how she felt about this encounter. That left just Fizzlepop and Twilight standing in the hallway, with the latter still staring nervously at the ground in the hopes that she’d be able to get her book back without having to draw too much attention to herself, just in case there was still some ire remaining.

“You shouldn’t keep staring at the ground like that, otherwise, you’ll just keep running into people,” Fizzlepop said as she held the book out. “If that girl gives you trouble again, just let me know.”

This was a bad idea; every fiber in Twilight’s body was telling her that, and yet despite it all, she pressed on in her trek through the old downtown core. In retrospect, she should’ve brought Sunset Shimmer along, or maybe Applejack or Rainbow Dash, but it was too late for her to back down now after having come so far. Though it was the same sidewalks she had traversed so confidently just a few days earlier, everything felt so much more sinister now. As far as her mind was concerned, every alley was hiding another mugger, every person walking past her had an air of malice about them, and every noise was that final step just before somebody grabs her from behind.

“Come on, Twilight, just keep it together,” she silently reminded herself. She gripped tighter onto the brown paper bag she carried with her, holding it close like a protective charm.

Retracing her steps from before, she wasn’t surprised that she saw no sign of her assailant. She stopped briefly just at the entrance of the alleyway where she had been mugged: it was empty now, save for the usual assortment of trash cans and a dumpster. It was just an alley, she reminded herself, but she couldn’t help but remember that she was maybe an inch away from having that alley be her final resting place.

It was a sobering thought, one that left a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, and prompted her to continue her search.

Unfortunately, as time passed, it seemed the only thing she discovered was that the downtown infrastructure was in desperate need of a face lift. It was one dingy alley and crumbling sidewalk after the next with trash strewn about the ground and a pervasive odour of rot and despair that followed her wherever she went. Maybe it was just the memories of the incident colouring her perspective, but everything around her felt colder and more ominous than before.

Twilight was just about to give up on her mission, which now seemed more like a wild goose chase, but then she overheard a voice coming from a nearby parking lot.

“What do you think you’re trying to do? This isn’t the deal we had!”

It was the same voice from the mugging.

“Calm down, Tempest, we’re just having a little trouble moving merchandise right now, so I’ve had to change my prices to compensate,” a second voice replied, one that sounded like somebody had given a voice to a tub of grease.

Despite every rational fiber telling her to walk away, Twilight crept towards the source. She spotted Fizzlepop, or Tempest as she had just been called, in the back corner of the parking lot, partially obscured by the surrounding vehicles, along with a stocky-looking fellow with unkempt hair and a sweaty, pockmarked complexion that made Twilight’s skin crawl. Using the cars for cover, she closed the distance so she could better hear what was going on.

“You can’t even change your pants in two hours, Grubber, let alone your prices. You quoted me a price, and I expect you to keep it!”

Twilight peaked over the flatbed of an old pickup truck and watched as the heated and one-sided debate continued. The stocky fellow looked increasingly nervous, most likely due to Tempest’s growing ire. She could recall in vivid detail how scared she had been a few days ago, and there wasn’t even any anger involved, so she could only imagine how this ‘Grubber’ felt.

“Come on, you can’t expect me to stay in business selling at a loss, do you?”

Tempest suddenly grabbed the other man by the collar, pulling him up onto the tips of his toes. “You should be more concerned with how you’ll stay in business with a broken jaw.”

Whoever this other guy was, he didn’t hold up to threats of violence well either. He promptly threw up his hands in defeat, the panic written across his face. “H-hey now, let’s not do anything hasty. I-I think I can honour our deal without hurting my bottom line too badly.”

“That’s better.”

With that, the irate teenager’s expression returned to one of calm composure, save for a pleased little smirk across her lips.

Once released, her cohort rummaged through his coat pocket and then handed something that looked like a wad of cash over to Tempest, to which she gave him a small bag filled with god knows what.

“I can’t guarantee the prices will stay the same next time, though,” the man warned before he scurried on his way, grumbling all the while.

With the deal concluded, the mohawked teen stuffed the money into her coat and headed on her way as well. Twilight had already ducked behind the truck in order to keep out of sight, though she really wished she had never come there in the first place. She may have been a bit of a sheltered teenager, but she knew that Tempest wasn’t talking about a deal for a subscription to ‘Popular Science Monthly’. It was just like something out of those crime dramas she’d watch with her mother—the kind that started episodes with detectives standing over a dead girl while making pithy one-liners with callous disregard to the sanctity of life.

She just had to keep her head down and wait for Tempest to leave, and then she could go home and forget about all of this forever.

“You again!”

So much for that plan…

“I didn’t see anything!” Twilight shrieked as she was hoisted back to her feet and slammed against the truck. At least she was used to this kind of rough-handling from the other girl, but that didn’t make the door handle pressing into her back any less painful.

“What are you doing here?” Tempest demanded, her patience already at its limits. “Who sent you? You wired or something?”

She didn’t wait for an answer before she began patting down the terrified Twilight. Between the short sleeves and skirt, there weren’t many places to hide a recording device, so the sense of being violated didn’t last long. However, that alone didn’t ease the other girl’s paranoia, and she could see Tempest’s eyes darting from side to side, scanning her surroundings for anything out of the ordinary.

“Nobody sent me,” Twilight insisted. “N-nobody even knows what happened the last time.”

Tempest fell silent for a moment, though whether by surprise or skepticism was anybody’s guess. After a few more moments of looking about, she appeared satisfied that there weren’t any cops lying in ambush for her. That didn’t mean she let down her guard completely, but there was little need to be wary of a timid schoolgirl.

“Then what the hell are you doing here?” Tempest leaned into her victim, almost flattening Twilight out completely against the truck. “Either you’re some kind of idiot or you’ve got a real death wish.”

The rational part of Twilight’s mind had to fight back a million years of evolution-driven fight-or-flight instincts in that moment. Part of her wanted to scream, another part wanted to run, and there was even a small part that thought dropping to the ground and playing dead might be a viable solution.

“Because I remember you,” Twilight blurted out before self-preservation instincts left her too paralyzed to speak.

The scar on Tempest’s face stretched and distorted as she cocked an eyebrow. “You’re going to start making sense before I lose my patience.”

“From Crystal Prep Academy—you were in the year ahead of me and you used to be on the girl’s softball team,” Twilight explained in a hasty ramble, lest the other girl lose her temper. “Y-you are Fizzlepop Berrytwist, right?”

Whatever satisfaction she might’ve felt from being right was snuffed out quickly when Tempest exploded in anger. In an instant, her hand was around Twilight’s throat, gripping with such unfettered rage that the younger girl’s face turned red as she flailed and struggled for breath.

“Don’t you ever say that name again!” Tempest snarled as her fingernails dug into flesh. “That girl is dead! My name is Tempest Shadow, got it?”

If she were expecting a proper answer, all she got were some gargles and whimpers, which at least prompted her to finally let go.

Twilight fell to her knees with a hand shielding her throat, coughing madly as she fought for every wheezing breath she could.

Oddly enough, the downward view seemed to jog Tempest’s memory. “The girl who kept looking at the ground,” she muttered to herself. Whatever thoughts of sympathy might’ve crossed her mind, they lasted no longer than the next few breaths. “This is no place for a bookworm like you! There’s people out here that’d gut you just for laughs. And for what? Curiosity? Some weird fixation?”

As she was still wrestling just to get enough air to think straight, all Twilight could offer as an answer at the moment was to hold up the paper bag she had been carrying with her.

That did little to satisfy Tempest, and she was just about to voice her displeasure when she caught scent of a faint aroma coming from the bag: something hot and savory. “What’s in the bag?”

“It’s… it’s some tortellini, and… and a few cannoli on the side,” Twilight’s weakened voice peeped up, still strained by the tightness in her throat. “W-when I remembered who you were, I was worried… because you said you had to steal just to eat…”

“Oh my god, that was just a figure of speech,” Tempest said with a throaty groan. She pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a lengthy sigh, followed by quiet murmurings about how it was fitting that she got saddled with the ‘idiot girl scouts’ of the world. “Did you really think you were going to change anything just by handing over a bag of leftovers?”

“Wh—no, I just—”

“Get lost, you little twerp, before I throw you into a dumpster!”

With that, Tempest hauled the other girl back to her feet and shoved her away, hoping that the girl would get the hint. Flustered and embarrassed, Twilight resigned herself to defeat and hurried to scamper away before things got worse. However, she didn’t make it more than a few meters away before she was called out to.

“Wait!”

Twilight froze on the spot like a cornered rodent. She didn’t even dare to turn around, not unless she was ordered to.

“Leave the cannoli.”

It wasn’t much, but Twilight took the request as a small victory and afforded herself a quick smile before leaving the food on the hood of a nearby car. She then hurried off, not wanting to push her luck with even a brief glance back.

Tempest snatched the paper bag and took a quick peek inside. “At least this won’t be a complete waste,” she muttered to herself. Sure enough, inside the bag was a couple of tupperware containers with everything that Twilight had described. The sight of the golden brown pastries wrapped around fingers of sweat cream gave her a moment of pause.

“Fizzy, dear, it’s time to come in! I made your favourite!”

“Nice! Raspberry cannoli! Thanks, mom.”

Chapter 2

“How bad is it?”

“We were able to set the fractures, but the extent of the nerve damage was… significant. It’ll be some time before we know the full extent.”

The gentle afternoon breeze carried with it a strange sense of tranquility and, dare she say, optimism with it. Maybe it was because Canterlot High was in a much more affluent neighborhood: the kind with clean sidewalks, neatly trimmed yards, and neighbors who waved to you using all five fingers. Everything just seemed brighter and more cheerful for some unknown reason. All of it left Tempest Shadow feeling sick to her stomach; it was like stepping into somebody’s sugar-coated dream with all the empty smiles and air-headed naivety that made her eyes want to roll right out of their sockets.

It made sense that a place like this would result in students like Twilight Sparkle: blind fools that figured smiles and good feelings were all that were needed to get through life. The idiocy for somebody to think just throwing some left-over at the same person who just days before mugged them would be a good idea. Who went through life thinking things like that?

And yet, despite all of her misgivings and grumblings over goodwill gestures, Tempest was still standing outside Canterlot High School, leaning up against their infamous, but broken, statue.

“This is so stupid,” she murmured under her breath. “Why am I even bothering with this?”

The cool air did little to temper the teen’s patience, but nonetheless she forced herself to stay put. A little standing around never hurt anybody, she reminded herself; she’d loitered for longer in worse conditions, and at least this neighborhood didn’t smell of piss and garbage. She tried to check for the time, but when she looked to her wristwatch, she discovered that her hand was quivering uncontrollably. It was a subtle tremor, but enough to catch her attention. With a sneer, she clenched her fist, enough to turn the knuckles white, and after a few seconds, the shaking subsided and she was able to relax again.

Thankfully, Tempest didn’t have to wait much longer. Soon after calming her troublesome nerves, the school bell’s clarion call rang out through the air, signaling the end of another day.

“About damn time,” she sighed. Of course, this all still meant more waiting, but at least now she was close to the end of this kaleidoscope nightmare.

While a tidal wave of smiling and carefree students poured out, Tempest continued scanning the crowds as they milled past her. A number of the passing students gave her puzzled looks and raised eyebrows. And with good reason, too: between the missing limb, scarred visage, and a tense air of restrained contempt about her, she looked as out of place at Canterlot High as a blood-soaked butcher at a vegan convention.

Only one student didn’t give her a wide berth, to which she was discretely thankful for, as it spared her having to search any further.

Twilight Sparkle approached the other girl without worry or trepidation for the first time, though she was curious—and secretly hopeful—as to the reason why Tempest was at Canterlot High.

“What are you doing here, Tempest?” Twilight asked, keeping her enthusiasm restrained lest she come off as too eager. Despite her efforts, though, the older teen easily noted the optimism lacing her voice, and how she wore a colourful linen scarf that concealed the fingermarks left behind from their encounter the day before.

“Twilight, what happened yesterday really opened my eyes. I had always told myself that I had been stealing and bullying my way through life because that was what I needed to do to survive, but your compassion, grace, and generosity has shown me how wrong I was. Thus, I have decided to not return your possessions, but to renounce my selfish ways and to embrace this path of compassion and friendship you have set me upon.”

Tempest didn’t say any of that, but it was what Twilight had hoped for. What actually came out of the surly teenager’s mouth was far more blunt.

“So you can take your damn tupperware back,” she said as she held out a small plastic bag.

Twilight raised an eyebrow but nonetheless took back her belongings. “You steal my phone and money, but you give me back my tupperware?”

“Ain’t worth fencing, and I sure as hell ain’t keeping it—got friggin’ rainbows and flowers all over it,” Tempest answered. She had a brief flash of an amused smirk, enjoying the confusion she sowed, but it was soon replaced with a harder, stoic glare, as if remembering she was in public. “Plus, you did go through all the effort so I thought I owed you at least the same in return.”

The last part caught Twilight’s attention, and a new idea formed in her mind. “If I brought you more food, would you be willing to return my things?” she inquired.

Unfortunately, her request was not met with the kind of response she had hoped for, as Tempest let out a long, quiet sigh. “And that explains that mystery.”

“Mystery?”

“Why you were going through this whole song and dance,” she answered, sounding more annoyed by the moment. “Should’ve realized you were just working an angle to get your stuff back.”

“What?! N-no! That’s not it at all,” Twilight blurted out. It would be a lie to say that she didn’t hope to get some of her things back, but the way Tempest phrased it made all her previous actions sound like she had sinister, ulterior motives. “I just… I mean, t-the geode you took; I’d really like to have that back. I thought maybe if I could be your friend, you’d return it. Otherwise, I’d have to go to the police, and I’d rather not have to do that.”

There was a brief flash of surprise across Tempest’s features, her scar stretching to disproportionate lengths as it tried to keep pace with her eyebrows. Were it anybody else, Twilight’s words might have come off as a threat, but she came off as menacing as a comatose kitten. Of course, Tempest couldn’t let her moment of surprise be too obvious; that might leave her exposed. Naturally, she hardened her expression and just grinned as if she were some benevolent monarch.

“Well if it means that much to you, I suppose I could let you have it back,” she mused. “For a price, of course.”

“How much?”

“A hundred bucks.”

“Deal!”

The second time around, it was harder for Tempest to suppress her wide-eye reflex. She had expected a bit of haggling over the price, but it was becoming evident just how desperate the other girl was to get this trinket back. May as well make a meal out of it, she figured.

“And dinner,” Tempest quickly added. “Lasagna: I want something hot this time.”

“Sure.”

“And more of those cannolis.”

“Okay,” Twilight said with a smile and a nod, all of which unsettled Tempest further.

This was too easy. Tempest couldn’t shake the feeling that she was the one getting played. Was Twilight that degree of a conniving genius, or was she just overthinking things? Eventually, she just decided to accept it at face value for now, and she’d deal with any fallout later. Besides, it was just some dumb little high schooler. What could Twilight possibly do to her?

“I’ll meet you here tomorrow,” she instructed.

When a knocking came from Tempest’s door, she thought nothing of it as she grumbled and shuffled her way across the dingy, dilapidated studio apartment. She was just about to head out anyways, so it wasn’t as if she wasn’t heading in that direction already. However, when she swung the door open, mumbling something about ‘this better be important’, she was greeted to the sight of an eager, smiling Twilight Sparkle standing on the other side.

“Holy sh—!” Tempest blurted out, catching herself only part-way through to regain her composure. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“We had a deal, remember?” Twilight said, oblivious or indifferent to the shock she gave to the other girl. She held up a large plastic container which bore the same colourful and flowery patterns as the previous tupperware she had given out. “I know you said you’d meet me at the school, but I was running ahead of schedule. If I waited until you arrived, then it would get cold, and the deal was for a hot dinner.”

While that made reasonable sense and could even be constrained as considerate in better circumstances, that still left Tempest with a more important question boiling to the surface of her mind. “How the hell did you even find where I live?” she demanded.

“You have my phone,” Twilight stated in a matter-of-fact manner. “I just tracked the GPS.”

“I took the battery out.”

“I fitted the GPS to a backup power source. In case I ever lost it and it ran out of power before I could track it down.”

This girl was beginning to prove to be more trouble than she was worth, but Tempest just reminded herself that in ten minutes this would all be just a memory and she’d never have to think about it again. She reached out to take first of the offered container, but Twilight pulled it away at the last second.

“I want to see my geode first.”

“Guess you’re aren’t as dumb as I thought,” Tempest sighed.

“Thanks.”

“Stop being so damn nice,” she snapped. “Now wait here; I’ll be right back.”

Tempest Shadow slammed the door shut, disappearing back into her apartment and leaving Twilight alone once more in the hallway. Despite being a bit out of her element, the young Canterlot High student still felt confident and optimistic. Sure, the hallway was dank and dingy, with a lingering odour that reminded her of a mixture of vomit and mouthwash that had been left stewing at the bottom of a dumpster on a hot summer’s day, but she was making progress. She was solving this problem with nothing but her wits and friendship. It felt almost… empowering. Not even the rats scampering across the floor between her feet could ruin her mood right now.

That was until she heard the floorboards creaking and turned to discover herself standing before a trio of tall, broad-shouldered young men, all clad in black leather coats and smelling of cigarettes. All of them stared down upon her with a devilish glint in their eyes and a sneer across their scruffy, thick-jawed faces. The man at the lead looked the most unsettling to her with a face framed by so much unkempt hair that Twilight wondered if she was actually looking at a person or a very intelligent orangutan.

“Well hello there, little lady,” the lead man greeted. There was a deceptively cheerful greasiness to his voice, as if West Side Story had been about used cars salesmen. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing in a dump like this?”

Despite every instinct born from eons of evolution screaming at Twilight to run, she held her ground and stuck to her principles and politeness and courtesy. “I’m just… uh, delivering some things to a friend.”

“Well aren’t you just the sweetest little peach,” the man replied with a playful grin. “Just warms this heart of mine to see charity so alive and well, don’t you agree?” He turned for a moment to the two men flanking him, both of which nodded with guttural grunts. Looking back to Twilight, his stare took on a more predatorial glint as he took a step forward. “You know, I’m a pretty swell guy; you wanna be my friend?”

“O-oh, w-well, th-that’s nice of you to offer,” Twilight stammered as she took a cautious step backwards. “M-maybe another time. I’m rather busy today. I-I’d offer to text you later, but my phone got stolen the other day so—”

“Oh, but I insist. It’d be just awful if we couldn’t show you our hospitality.”

As he took another step towards Twilight, she tried to back away more, but instead of finding floorboard, her foot came down upon something squishy and lumpy that made a loud squeak. It was enough to startle her and throw off her balance, causing the girl to crash to the ground with a panicked shriek. Sprawled across the grime-covered hallway floor, she was just about ready to throw the lasagna at them in the hopes it’d buy her enough time to run away when a loud ‘ahem’ drew everyone’s attention back to the nearby apartment door.

Tempest stood there, arms folded, looking like the angry neighbor who’s fed up with all the kids arguing outside. “What are you doing, King?”

In an instant, the man’s tone was back to its upbeat and lively nature.

“Oh, hey Tempest,” the lead figure, whom Twilight presumed to be ‘King’, replied. “We’re all just out here making friends, is all. Nothing to worry your pretty little head about.”

She glanced over to Twilight, who looked like a petrified mouse surrounded by hungry cats, and then back to King. “I know what sort of friends you keep,” she answered bluntly. “I have business with the girl, so hands off.”

“Tempest, you wound me. I am a gentleman with nothing but honest intentions,” King said while feigning indignation. “Besides, what sort of business could you possibly have with her? I didn’t think you went for the preppy schoolgirl type.”

“It’s a business transaction: she has something for me.”

“If you’re in a business mood, then how about you and I make a deal? I let you finish yours first, and then you let me finish mine afterwards.”

Twilight didn’t like the sound of any of that, not least of all about being spoken about as though she were a commodity. She looked to Tempest with pleading eyes, uncertain if there’d be any mercy to be found there, but it was the only hope she had at this point. It felt like hoping for a wolf to chase the bears away.

“Yeah, I think I’m going to go with a ‘no’ on that,” Tempest eventually answered. “Because when preppy schoolgirls go missing, police tend to go looking, and I’m not in the mood for dealing with cops sniffing around my home.”

After a brief moment of contemplation, King calmly answered back, “And if I disagree?”

“Then somebody gets to lose a few teeth. Any volunteers?”

Her stare hardened as she clenched a fist, which was enough to give the two men flanking King pause. They both grimaced, glancing to each other with wary stares as if trying to silently tell the other, ‘no, you first’. Twilight was left wondering if these men, despite their advantages in size and numbers, were genuinely afraid of Tempest.

For his part, King remained silent at first, sizing up the defiant teenager with scrutinizing eyes but a frustrated frown. It was brief, however, and soon the man relaxed and the sneer was replaced with an unsettlingly welcoming grin. He swaggered up alongside Tempest and had his arm around her shoulder before she could even react.

“Oh, you crack me up,” King said, though his words did little to change Tempest’s posture. “I never thought I’d see the day the big, scary Tempest Shadow would go soft for somebody.” He reached out with his free hand and patted her on the cheek, each tap making her grow ever tenser. “Since I like you so much, I’ll let you have this one… as a favour to you. Be sure to play nice with your new friend.”

“She’s not my friend,” Tempest growled through gritted teeth.

“Of course, sweetie, of course,” King replied with a trifling laugh. He patted her a few times on the back before meandering back over to his compatriots. “Come on, boys, we’ve got a full day ahead of us. Places to go, people to meet, and all that jazz.”

Neither of the girls relaxed until the others had left, and even then there was still an unsettled tension in the air. Sprawled on her backside, apprehension and fear still gripped at Twilight’s heart; the major threat may have been scared away but that didn’t mean that she was out of danger just yet. It felt like an ‘out of the frying pan and into the fire’ moment, except the fire was more of a bomb, and she was petrified that the slightest action would set it off.

Tempest Shadow’s own mood soon began to settle, her clenched fist relaxing and her arms soon hanging at ease. Her gaze had remained fixed on the hallway where King and the others had sauntered down, but eventually she turned her attention towards the teenager still on the ground. Groaning and rolling her eyes, she thumbed towards her apartment door and barked, “Just get your ass inside already!”

Not wanting to tempt her fury, Twilight gathered her things and scrambled back to her feet. Despite a sudden pain that shot up her right leg the second she put weight on it, she hobbled into the relative safety of the apartment with the other teen following soon afterwards.

“And that’s why I didn’t want you here,” Tempest stated as she closed the door behind her. She leaned back against the door and let out a long, weary sigh. “Damn lasagna better be worth all this.”

With her ankle throbbing in pain, Twilight limped as fast as she could to the nearest piece of furniture, which happened to be an old couch that looked like it had been worked over by a dozen ill-tempered cats.

“Who was that?” she asked once she sat down.

“King? Just some deluded idiot with more ambition than good sense,” Tempest answered, followed by a scoff and a roll of her eyes. “Unfortunately, he commands a lot of loyalty… including mine.”

“He sounds like bad news.”

Oddly enough, Tempest just shrugged her shoulders. “It’s not that bad: I do a lot of odd jobs for him and he pays well enough.”

Twilight just shuddered at the thought of what kind of work she did for such a man, especially considering the mugging and the business dealings she saw in the parking lot. “Well, thank you for stepping in,” she added in a meek whisper.

“I didn’t do that for you,” the older teen scoffed. Walking past the couch, she tossed the purple geode onto Twilight’s lap. “It’s hard enough out here without the cops snooping around because some idiot girl stuck her nose where it didn’t belong.”

Twilight suspected that was no exaggeration. Taking a quick glance around the apartment, she wondered how anybody could stand living in such a dump: the walls were cracked and the paint peeling, the lights flickered sporadically with an unsettling buzzing noise about them, and there was lingering odour in the air that reminded her of the same fetid alley she had been mugged in. There was barely any sign that this was the residence of somebody who had once gone to Crystal Prep Academy, save for when she looked over to the kitchenette area in the corner and noticed a coffee mug with the emblem of their old school.

“Even still,” Twilight continued, “you saved me, so… thank you.”

“Don’t expect a repeat,” Tempest grumbled. “Around here, sticking your neck out for others is the quickest way to lose your head.”

Hopefully that was an exaggeration, Twilight thought.

Reaching into her bag, she took out what money she had managed to scrounge together and set it down atop of the container holding the lasagna. “Here you go, a hundred dollars as we agreed upon.”

“Can’t believe you actually ponied up,” Tempest said with a faint hint of disbelief. Not wanting to risk anyone changing their minds, she scooped up the cash and started counting it while sitting on the table. “You probably could’ve haggled me down to at least half of this if you had tried. Not sure why a hunk of amethyst means so much to you.”

“It’s got… sentimental value,” Twilight explained, followed by a subtle smirk. “I see you still remember Mr. Slate’s geology lessons.”

Tempest chuckled dryly. “If you haven’t noticed, I can’t always brute force my way through my problems. A little wit and knowledge goes a long way when you’re surrounded by drop-outs and idiots, even if it’s only a couple of years of Crystal Prep.” Once she was satisfied with the cash payment, she pocketed the money and began to inspect the other part of their trade. She popped open the container and was greeted to a warm, inviting waft of steam and spiced aromas. Licking her lips as she smiled, she took in a slow, deep breath. “Gonna be hard not to eat all of this in one go.”

“If you want, I could keep bringing you more,” Twilight offered.

Those words gave the older teen pause, as she responded with a skeptical gaze. “You’ve got your bauble, Twilight; there’s nothing else for you here.”

“What about you?”

“Me? I robbed you, remember?”

“And you’ve saved me, twice,” Twilight answered in earnest. “You might not recall, but I remember a girl who was brave, and smart, and respected; a girl filled with potential, and somebody who I would’ve liked to have gotten to know better… if only I were a better person back then.”

Tempest Shadow let out a snort before looking down, her eyes settling on the empty space above her stumped arm, as if there was still something attached to it. “That girl’s gone,” she answered in a somber voice. “She died a long time ago.”

Finding a sudden surge of courage, Twilight snapped back in a firm voice, “I don’t believe that!” It caught her host and rescuer by surprise. “You could’ve threatened me into silence at the parking lot, but you chose to parlay with me instead; you could’ve extorted me for more money, but you chose to be reasonable; you could’ve taken the food and my money, and left me to King and his friends, but you intervened.” Though her heart was racing, probably from a mix of fear and adrenaline, she pressed on as Tempest continued staring in stunned silence. “You were a good person, and you still are… but something happened, didn’t it? How’d you go from one of the most expensive prep schools in the city to living in this squalor?”

A heavy, crushing silence swept through the room. For a moment, Twilight worried that this was just a literal calm before the storm, and mentally braced herself. But the thunder and fury never came, and instead Tempest just got back to her feet and walked over to the kitchenette. She wasn’t sure if Tempest was just ignoring her or biding time or genuinely had something else to worry about, but she didn’t want to come off as pushy. Waiting patiently, she watched as Tempest opened the fridge and began to rummage through its contents.

“Did you ever get that big speech from Dean Cadance? The one she gives to the incoming freshman classes?” Tempest asked out of the blue.

Twilight nodded. She remembered a rousing welcoming speech from the Dean, which most of the students in her grade ignored almost entirely.

“‘Work hard and you can succeed at anything,’” Tempest quoted a portion of the aforementioned speech. She hip-checked the fridge door closed and soon returned to the couch with a beer can in her hand and a bag of frozen peas balanced on her forearm, the latter of which she dropped onto the cushion next to Twilight. “‘The friendships you make here will last a lifetime.’ Now put the peas on your ankle before the swelling gets worse.”

“You… don’t agree with that?” Twilight asked before complying with the given instructions.

“Just a bunch of feel-good nonsense. Sooner or later, the real world gives you a wake-up call to teach you that life’s not fair,” she scoffed in response, which was followed by a sharp hiss as she cracked open her beverage. After taking a quick sip from her can, she let out another disgruntled snort. “If you’re lucky, that reality check just shakes you up, but no amount of being a ‘good little girl’ can stop your world from crashing down around your ears when it decides it wants to.”

“Th-that’s not true… is it?”

“You probably think yourself a good little girl,” Tempest said with an amused smirk, as if enjoying watching Twilight’s festering doubt. “Would any of that have saved you if I decided to use my knife instead of my fist back in that alley?”

Twilight fell deathly silent, lacking any meaningful answer to that question; instead, she preoccupied herself by taking the bag of frozen peas and holding it against her injured ankle. There was no denying that there were brief moments back on that fateful day where she thought that her last seconds on earth would be in that alleyway. Perhaps if she were the aggressive type like Tempest, she could’ve just used her magic to fight back, but that went against everything she believed in. How could that be right?

After a while Tempest collapsed onto the couch just a few feet away from Twilight, letting out wistful sigh between sips of beer. “World doesn’t owe you jack-shit, kiddo,” she murmured. “The sooner you realize that, the sooner you can start learning how to stand on your own.”

Watching the other teen drink, Twilight was reluctant to put faith in such a cold and cynical world view. Every time life became difficult, her friends had always been there to help her out, and not just the big moments like when she became possessed by a magical power she couldn’t control. She was no stranger to pride in independence, particularly during her time at Crystal Prep before the Friendship Games. That time, however, she looked back at with regret that it had taken her so long to realize the value in friendship, and that trying to go through life alone was hampering her in the long run.

“So what was your reality check?” Twilight finally asked.

“A head-on collision with a Cadillac,” Tempest answered flatly. “Just a few seconds of inattention and then everything was gone: friends… family… that childhood naivety. Just… waking up in a hospital room with a dozen broken bones and a bunch missing.”

“You mean, both of your parents are—there’s nobody else?”

“It was a small family to begin with; now it’s just me.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Tempest shrugged, and then took another sip. “It’s made me stronger; stronger than I would’ve been otherwise. I’m better off this way.”

“You don’t honestly believe that, do you?”

“Doesn’t matter if I do or not, it’s not like I have other options available to me,” Tempest said before gesturing to her surroundings. “Out here, it’s survival of the fittest, and if you haven’t noticed, I’m already playing with a handicap.”

Without even thinking, Twilight murmured out, “This is no way to live.”

Sadly, those words did not go unnoticed, nor welcomed with open arms. The only warning signs of growing irritation were the subtle crinkling of aluminum as Tempest tightened her grip on her beverage, and her narrowing gaze.

“Well excuse me Miss Ivory Tower if the view ain’t so grand from down here with the rest of us plebeians! Half a year of intensive care and physio took pretty much every penny my family had left.”

“Th-that’s not what I meant!” Twilight blurted in a blind panic. “I-I j-just—I mean, I was—”

“Just out with it!”

“I want to help you!”

The apartment fell silent for a second, Tempest with a puzzled look on her face, and Twilight frozen in terror like a cornered mouse. Luckily for the latter, the other teenager’s expression just flattened, a look of bored weariness upon her face. Neither spoke for the next couple of minutes, which proved to be the longest and tensest minutes in recent memory for Twilight. However, she wasn’t about to risk provoking further hostilities: if her suggestion hadn’t yet been met with anger, then there must have been good reason for it.

After a slow, lengthy swig from her beer can, punctuated by a crisp sigh of relief, Tempest cast her scarred gaze back to the other girl. “And what possible kind of help do you think you could offer?” she said in a tone that sounded more like a challenge than curiosity.

Twilight’s mind went into a frantic pace to respond: she had to provide something or else the suggestion would be revealed for the desperation that it was. But then an idea popped into her head; an absolutely crazy one, but an idea nonetheless. Maybe she was a little desperate, but since nothing better came to mind, she blurted it out before she could second-guess herself.

“Come back to high school with me!”

Tempest blinked for a moment. “Say what?”

The momentary distraction was just the opening that Twilight needed: a few desperate seconds for her brain to grab hold of that lifeline and formulate a plan around it.

“Y-you never graduated, right? If you get your high school diploma from Canterlot High, you could maybe apply for college,” Twilight explained, albeit in a hasty and stammering fashion like a nervous girl on her first date. “A-and given you used to go to Crystal Prep and your current situation, y-you could probably qualify for a number of grants and scholarships.”

Once again, to Twilight’s relief, the response was not thunder and fury. Tempest just stared off into the distance, holding the edge of her beer can to her lips but refraining from partaking in it.

“I think it’s a bit late for that,” she murmured. “Besides, who’d take in a kid off the street?”

“Principal Celestia is nothing like Cinch; she’s a very compassionate woman! I’m certain she’d be willing to let you attend.”

And compared to the things that Twilight and Sunset Shimmer had done in the past, Tempest Shadow would, by far, not be the strangest student to have graced the halls of Canterlot High with their presence. If Celestia was willing to overlook somebody tearing apart the fabric of spacetime, a bit of petty thievery could be forgiven. After all, Tempest had to steal in order to survive, right? It was kind of like stealing a loaf of bread to feed your family, except it was wallets and smartphones instead of baked goods. Whatever sense of moral outrage she might’ve felt about being threatened and mugged, Twilight found it impossible to hold it against Tempest, a girl who had seemingly lost everything.

“Me going back to school? What an absurd idea,” Tempest eventually scoffed.

“It’s not absurd!” Twilight shot back, a new surge of passion in her voice. “If you’re worried about money, I can cover the student fees, and I can get you the supplies. I know it might not sound like much, but a high school diploma can open at least a few doors for you. Studies have shown—”

“Do I look like the type of person to give a shit about studies?” Tempest barked back, silencing the other girl in a heartbeat.

Twilight looked away, feeling disheartened and worried she may have come off too strongly. Her gaze remained fixed on the floor with only the occasional glance back to check on Tempest’s mood. She looked… irritated, but not in the violent manner. It was more of an internal, contemplative ire, as if coming to terms with some unpleasant truth. Getting to her feet, Tempest meandered to the far side of the room, near where the ‘bedroom’ was, albeit it was little more than a mattress on the floor with a rickety, old dresser next to it, with drawers sitting skewed on their rails and one of the legs replaced by a small stack of bricks.

The young girl stared out the window for a moment, looking to the cracked, ramshackled apartments that lined the street and the downtrodden people who called this area home. Would this be all there was to Tempest Shadow?

“Mom! Mom! I did it! I got into Crystal Prep!”

“Fizzy, that’s wonderful! Let’s go share the good news with your father.”

“What have I got to lose?” Tempest murmured under her breath.

“What did you say?”

“I said, let’s play a little game.” In an instant, Tempest’s bout of introspection was over, her voice filled once again with her poise and confidence. Walking over to her dresser, she picked up a cellphone and held it up for Twilight to see, revealing that it wasn’t just any phone, but the one stolen just a few days prior.

“What do you mean?” a visibly confused Twilight asked, tilting her head to one side. “And… is that my phone?”

“That’s right, and if you want me to step into your world, then you’ve got to step into mine,” she explained while tossing the phone up and down. “Because in my world, if you want something, then you have to learn how to take it for yourself. Nobody out here is going to rush to your aid or throw you a bone. If you can take this phone from me, I’ll go to Canterlot High with you.”

Twilight adjusted her glasses as she regarded her newly-declared opponent. Wrestling free a cellphone from a girl who was clearly her physical superior felt like a test she was doomed to fail in. If Tempest really didn’t want to go along, she could’ve just said so, instead of dangling some forlorn hope in front her.

“This seems like a very arbitrary test,” she remarked. “What purpose does this even serve?”

“Let’s just say I want to see how much you really want this.”

It still sounded like an excuse, but Twilight wasn’t about to give up just yet. Scrutinizing Tempest Shadow thoroughly, she began running through the possibilities in her mind.

Reason with her? No, that’d never work. Maybe if Rarity were the one asking: she could be very persuasive.

Throw something to distract her? No, even if there was something close enough that could be of use, she was more liable to hit the window than come anywhere close to Tempest. It was a shame that Applejack wasn’t around to help: she could hurl something with enough force to make Tempest duck for cover.

Just rush at her headlong? Definitely not. Even if her ankle wasn’t hurting, she wasn’t nearly fast enough to take someone by surprise. Rainbow Dash could’ve snatched the phone away before Tempest could even blink.

The more Twilight thought about it, the more discouraged she became. If any of her friends had been here, this would have been a piece of cake. Then again, that was exactly the point: Tempest wanted to see what Twilight could do by herself, without relying on others. She was clearly a girl who did whatever she had to do to survive on her own, so Twilight had to be willing to do just the same. But what did she have aside from her intellect?

As that thought crossed her mind, she looked down into her hand, and the small purple stone she still held in it.

“Oh, right,” she mumbled to herself. “Say Tempest, are there are sort of… rules or regulations regarding this challenge?”

“What? Rules? Don’t be ridiculous,” Tempest replied with a dismissive laugh. “This is the real world: rules are just there for people who aren’t tough enough to protect themselves. Honestly, I’d love to see what sort of underhanded tricks a goody two-shoe like you would pull. You gonna break out the big, sad, puppy eyes?”

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Twilight was able to don a confidant grin, her magic geode clenched tightly in her hand. “I just wanted to make sure,” she replied before reaching out towards Tempest.

Her phone was suddenly enshrouded by a bright and sparkling violet aura.

“What the hell?” a startled Tempest yelped out. In her shock, her grip on the phone loosened, and in that instant, as if driven by its own will, it flew from her grasp and straight into Twilight’s awaiting hand.

“I win.”

“What the actual f—”

“Magic.”

It took a lot of willpower on Twilight’s part not to snicker at Tempest’s normally confident expression getting steamrolled by a surge of bewilderment and disbelief. It was like she had just watched a unicorn walk in and take a nap on her couch.

“S-seriously? Like… actual ‘abracadabra’ magic?” Tempest eventually stammered out.

Twilight nodded. “If you want to learn more about it, I can tell you all about it… at school tomorrow.”

Chapter 3

“Good morning, Miss Berrytwist, how are you feeling?”

“...”

“How’s your pain today?”

“...”

“Another bad day?”

“Feels like they’re all bad days.”

It felt like it had been a whole lifetime ago since Tempest Shadow had attended high school. It was hard just to wrap her mind around how much she had changed in the few short years since the accident. The mere idea of homework, cliques, and gossiping about cute boys seemed so completely foreign to her that it may as well have all been written in another language.

And as Twilight led her through the hallways of Canterlot High, while names and locations from her impromptu tour guide washed over her like a cold shower, Tempest Shadow couldn’t shake the feeling that everything about this was wrong. A place like this would’ve been perfect hunting grounds for her: full of wide-eyed, naive teeangers with overinflated egos. Usually the shock alone when they realized they were not invulnerable heroes of their own life stories gave her enough time to strip them of their valuables and make a getaway without even a modicum of resistance. Now she was expected to mingle amongst them and pretend she wasn’t interested in fleecing them for all they were worth.

At the very least it was still early in the day, so there weren’t many students around to bother them. Twilight had suggested coming in early so that they could speak with Principal Celestia before the day’s classes began. It still sounded like a lousy idea to her, but at least it wasn’t as bad as other options. Tempest half-expected Celestia to take one look at her and promptly have her tossed back onto the street before she could even get a word in. Of course, her only experience with high school administrators was Principal Cinch, who was as warm and welcoming as being bludgeoned to death with a frozen steak.

Despite all of her misgivings, of which there were many, she nonetheless went along with Twilight’s wishes. She had made a deal, after all, and Tempest Shadow kept her word. In her world, one’s reputation was arguably the only thing a person could control, and it was worth its weight in gold. To that end, she had to make an effort to at least try and make this work, which meant making herself more presentable for a change. Her wardrobe options were limited, however, so she was forced to go with whatever had the fewest holes and blood stains. The old jeans she picked out weren’t too bad, but even they had a few tears around the knees and cuffs, which oddly enough some people would pay good money to have when brand new.

Would it be enough, though? Could she really make people believe she was normal like them?

“And lastly, this is Principal Celestia’s office,” Twilight announced, capping off their tour and snapping Tempest from her wandering thoughts. Her friend’s distant gaze didn’t escape her notice. “Is… everything okay, Tempest?”

“I’m fine,” she insisted with an impatient scoff. “Just… realizing now that I’m going to be waking up real goddamn early for the foreseeable future.”

Though her words were resolute, the manner in which she fidgeted with her coat and her old bookbag, which was worn and had only one strap left, betrayed her unease. Inside were what few school supplies she could scrounge together: some old notebooks, a few pens and pencils, and a calculator that you needed to hold directly under a light for the cracked solar cell to get enough power. They were meager holdings, but Tempest didn’t expect her tenure at Canterlot High to be long enough to warrant the added expense.

“There’s nothing wrong with early mornings,” Twilight said with an unfathomable amount of pep for half-past seven. “As the saying goes, the early bird gets the worm!”

“And the second mouse gets the cheese.”

“That’s… um, a little morbid.” Unsure of how to appropriately respond, she just forced out a nervous chuckle and hurried to move the conversation along. “A-anyways, I messaged Principal Celestia about my request yesterday, so hopefully this shouldn’t take long. Just… uh, remember to be polite.”

“What are you talking about? I’m the nicest girl there is,” Tempest said as a faint smirk flashed across her lips.

Not wanting to waste anymore time, Twilight knocked on the door. “Principal Celestia?” she called out. “It’s Twilight Sparkle.”

“Come in,” the principal's voice sounded from the other side.

The pair of teenagers entered, one with far more enthusiasm than the other. To Tempest, the office was quite the departure from the cold, award-strewn chamber that Principal Cinch inhabited. Not that there weren’t accolades and pictures of school history scattered on the walls, but she noticed most had little to do with achievements and just captured moments in time: big school events and festivals, or students being handed awards. There was a palpable warmth to the environment, and one that made the cynic in Tempest all the more wary. It just seemed too good to be true.

Principal Celestia sat at her desk and gestured for the two girls to have a seat in the pair of chairs before them. Across her workplace were a spread of open file folders and scattered papers, several of which Tempest noticed bore the crest of Crystal Prep Academy.

“Good morning, Miss Sparkle, and Miss… Shadow, was it?” the principal greeted in a cordial manner.

“That’s right,” Tempest answered with a nod. “How much exactly did Twilight explain to you?”

“Just the basics: that you were a schoolmate of hers from Crystal Prep, and that circumstances have prevented you from finishing high school,” Celestia explained before sliding a few sheets over to the prospective student. “I’ll admit that this is an unorthodox request, but when it comes to students with unique circumstances, your case is,” she paused for a brief instant and cast a knowing look over to Twilight, “far from the most unusual I’ve accepted.”

Tempest picked up the paper in front of her and gave it a quick read. It was just an application form asking for the usual basic details: personal information, address, contact numbers, and so on.

“Now your records at Crystal Prep stop part-way through your second year. Did you complete any further schooling between now and then?”

“I completed some homeschooling and private tutoring, but those didn’t last too long.” Tempest set her backpack onto her lap, and pulled from it an old file folder, which she handed over to the principal. “This is all I could find of my records from that time.”

Principal Celestia perused the folder’s contents, her eyes sweeping across each page in a diligent manner that betrayed no hint of what thoughts were going through her mind at the moment. The only person in the room whose thoughts were broadcasted on an open frequency was Twilight, whose gaze bounced back and forth between principal and pupil in a desperate attempt to gauge how things were progressing.

“Everything appears to be in order,” Celestia finally remarked before setting the papers down. “Have you given any thought towards which classes you would be taking?”

“I think I’ll just follow Twilight around,” Tempest answered as she thumbed towards the girl beside her.

“It’s probably best if she has a familiar face nearby,” Twilight added. In truth, she was worried about what Tempest might say or do if she wasn’t around to keep an eye on her. The older teen was, after all, not the warmest of people.

“Are you certain?” Celestia asked, betraying the first hint of concern of the meeting. “Your course schedule is a bit more advanced than most.”

“I can handle it just fine,” Tempest insisted.

“If you’re okay with it, then I won’t stop you. If you change your mind, though, you can always speak with Vice Principal Luna for course changes.”

With the conversation winding down, Tempest picked up the paperwork she had been handed and put it away in her bag. “Would it be okay if I fill this out later?” she inquired.

“You may, but please try to have it ready before the end of the day. I should have a locker ready for you by then,” Celestia answered. She then turned her attention to Twilight. “Miss Sparkle, could you give us a moment to speak in private?”

Despite her curiosity, Twilight dutifully obeyed and stepped out of the office. Once she was gone, the principal’s expression took on a somber air as she regarded her newest pupil. It didn’t escape said student’s notice either, which made Tempest a little wary of where this conversation was about to go.

“Are you okay?” Celestia finally asked.

“Excuse me?”

“When Twilight told me of you, I knew the name sounded familiar, and seeing your file from Crystal Prep confirmed it. Cadence has been a colleague and acquaintance of mine for a few years now,” Celestia explained herself. “I remember when she first told me about the accident. I can’t begin to imagine how difficult it’s been for you since then, but I just want you to know that the school has resources available if you need them: counselors, private tutors—”

“I don’t need any help!” Tempest interrupted in a tone far firmer than most people would consider taking with their principal, especially on the first day. “Just because I lost my hand doesn’t make me invalid. I’ve made it this far without anybody’s help, and I damn well don’t need any more charity than I’m already having to tolerate from Twilight.” She rose from her seat and threw her bag over her shoulder, making it clear what her sentiments were towards this conversation. “If there’s nothing else, I’d like to attend my classes and be done with this farce.”

Normally using such language in front of her would’ve prompted a harsh scolding from Principal Celestia, but she was willing to give the obviously troubled teen some latitude for now. Still, her disappointment was written across her face. “Is that what you really consider high school? Just a farce?” she remarked. “If you don’t want to be here, you’re old enough to make that decision. What are you looking for?”

Tempest turned for the door to leave, but stopped just shy of opening it. “I’m not sure,” she answered, “but maybe I’ll recognize it when I see it.”

“Huh, never thought I’d see the day where Twilight Sparkle would sit at the back of the classroom of her own free will,” Sunset said with a chuckle under her breath. As much of a surprise as it was to see her friend parked at the furthest reaches of their first period classroom, she was able to deduce the reasons behind it with little effort. Sitting beside her friend was Canterlot High’s newest student, whom Sunset recognized from the photo she saw back when Twilight was conducting her initial investigations.

It was a stark contrast to look at the pair: Twilight sat up straight with all of her books and supplies neatly arranged across her desk, fully prepared for whatever today’s lessons entailed; whereas Tempest slouched back in her seat while her fingertips tapped a bored, rhythmic pattern. She barely even acknowledged Sunset’s presence beyond a brief glance in her direction.

“I thought it would be a good idea to let her choose where to sit,” Twilight said as she gestured over to her new friend and classmate. “Tempest, I’d like you to meet my friend, Sunset Shimmer; Sunset, this is Tempest Shadow.”

“Hi, it’s nice to finally meet you,” Sunset greeted as she offered out a hand.

All she got in response, however, was a cold and silent stare, which prompted Twilight to lean over and nudge the broody teen.

“Tempest, please,” she whispered.

With a heavy, disparaged sigh, and a roll of her eyes, Tempest acquiesced. She managed to force out a convincingly sincere little cordial smile. “Hello.”

Sunset wasn’t fully convinced, and her expression reflected that, but she decided to let the issue slide. It was self-evident that Tempest Shadow was not the sort of person who warmed up quickly to people. At least Pinkie Pie wasn’t here; she had a feeling Tempest wouldn’t respond well to a bubbly, hyperactive persona.

Wanting to remain as welcoming as possible, Sunset decided to take the empty seat on the opposite side of Twilight. “So what do you think of Canterlot High so far? Twilight told me that you used to go to Crystal Prep,” she asked in order to break the ice some more.

“Well, it’s pretty obvious your budget is a lot smaller,” Tempest answered with an indifferent shrug. “But I suppose it also lacks that air of pretentiousness, which makes it… tolerable.”

“I… think that’s pretty high praise, don’t you?” Twilight said with a feigned laugh to mask any unease. As more students poured into the classroom and filled the remainder of the empty desks, she turned to Tempest again. “Are you sure you’re okay with chemistry? Do you need me to go over anything before the class begins?”

“No, but if you want to help, you can fill this all out for me,” Tempest replied. She reached into her bag and handed over the registration form that the principal had given her.

Twilight stared at the blank form and then back to her friend. Normally she’d jump at the idea of filling out forms, but this felt out of place. “Shouldn’t you be filling it out? It’s supposed to be your information, isn’t it?”

“Oh, like anybody needs to know my exact address or when my birthday is.” Tempest donned a roguish grin as she slid the paper across Twilight’s desk so it sat beneath her face. “Come on, you want me to stick around, don’t you? What’s a little paperwork between friends?”

Overhearing all of this, Sunset felt compelled to interject. “Um, Twilight, I don’t think you should be—”

“It’s okay,” Twilight interrupted. “She… um, she has a point: it’s just a little paperwork. I don’t mind.”

“See? Everybody’s happy, so chill out, Sunset. We’re all friends here.”

Seeing Tempest lounge in her desk with a smug look of self-congratulation rubbed Sunset the wrong way. It reminded her a lot of her own old habits back when she was the most feared person at Canterlot High, but Twilight appeared to be committed to helping out Tempest, so she held her tongue for now. Sunset did, however, make a note to keep an eye on them.

It didn’t go entirely in Tempest’s favour either, as Twilight still insisted on getting verbal answers to most of the questions. She filled out the forms with all due diligence and care she felt was required for official administrative documents. Stopping just short of notarizing it, she handed it back to Tempest just as Mrs. Harshwhinny arrived.

Their tired-faced, but professionally-dressed, teacher stood at the head of the class, taking a moment to scan the collection of teenagers before her before starting her day. “Okay class, quiet down,” she called out, silencing her murmuring students. “Now, before we begin today, I have a quick announcement to make: we have a new student joining us today. Ms. Tempest Shadow, if you’d like to say a word before we begin class, you may do so now.”

“No thanks, I’m good,” Tempest replied without even a moment of thought.

More than happy to begin to lesson, Mrs. Harshwhinny turned to the chalkboard behind her and got to work. “Class, if you’ll open your textbooks to page one hundred and fifty-two, we shall continue where we left off yesterday…”

On any other day, Twilight would be giving her full attention to her teacher as the lecture began, but instead she inched her desk closer to Tempest and nudged her with her foot.

“Psst, Tempest.”

“What?” the other teen replied in a low growl.

“You probably should’ve said a bit more when you had a chance to introduce yourself,” Twilight whispered. “You don’t want to make a bad first impression with your new classmates.”

“Oh, of course. How silly of me,” Tempest answered in a mocking and condescending voice. “I should’ve told them about how I used to live on the streets and make my living being a petty criminal, and regale them with a story about how I held you up at knife-point.”

Twilight voiced her displeasure with a frown before giving a scolding, “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Let’s not kid ourselves, Twilight; I’ve got nothing in common with these people. There’s not much point in me trying to pretend otherwise.”

Unfortunately, with Mrs. Harshwhinny leading the class, there wasn’t any time for Twilight to try reasoning with her friend. All she could do was make a mental note to talk to Tempest some more about her behaviour while she focused her efforts on listening to the day’s lesson and taking notes. Throughout the class, she kept looking over to her friend just to check for any signs of trouble.

Tempest was hunched over her desk, scrawling in her notebook with a look of focus and frustration as her gaze darted between the chalkboard and her paper. It was like a person struggling in vain with a math question a few years above their grade level, and there were a few occasions where Tempest just stopped abruptly and glared at her notebook. Each time, Twilight could swear that the other girl was one step away from breaking or throwing something in a fit. Thankfully, though, that never came to pass.

“Twilight, I need your notes from the last section,” Tempest whispered over, just loud enough to break the other girl from her focus.

“Oh? Is something wrong?”

“Teacher’s just… moving a bit quick for me, that’s all.”

Seeing as Twilight saw this as a step in the right direction, that Tempest was making an effort to keep up with the lectures and treat these lessons as something serious rather than transient, she surrendered over her notes without another thought. The papers were snatched away, and Tempest soon hoarded it along with the rest of her notes like some kind of dragon guarding their treasure.

“Do you… need me to explain anything?” Twilight asked.

“It’s just plugging numbers into the right formulas,” Tempest answered. “It’s pretty straight-forward, really.”

Sensing no deception in her friend’s reassurance, Twilight felt a tinge of relief. She had spent a good portion of the morning worrying that dropping Tempest into a senior year semester would be too difficult to handle, but those fears appeared to be misplaced. After a few more weeks, she had no doubt that nobody would even be able to guess that Tempest had been lagging behind at any point.

After a short time, Mrs. Harshwhinny went around the class to hand out an assignment before retiring to her desk to give the students time to work on it. Unsurprisingly, most of them took it as an opportunity to also chat with their friends, including Sunset, who was curious to learn a bit more about her reclusive new classmate.

“So Tempest,” Sunset began, “are you thinking about joining any clubs?”

Still stooped over her papers like a monastic scribe, Tempest didn’t even bat an eye away from her toilings when she replied, “I don’t have that kind of time to waste.”

“Oh, come on, clubs aren’t a waste. It’s a great way to meet new people, and they’re usually very flexible with their schedules.”

Tempest’s brow furrowed, a look of growing annoyance and impatience crossing her features. “Some of us need to work,” she snapped back.

“What Tempest means to say,” Twilight hastily interrupted, “is that her… um, job is important. B-because she lives on her own and needs the money.”

“I live alone and work, too, Twilight,” Sunset replied with a roll of her eyes. “I can still find time for extracurriculars. It’s not that difficult if you know how to budget your finances and time.”

Before Twilight could say anything else, the two were interrupted by a loud thump as Tempest pounded her stumped arm against her desk. “Some of us don’t get that kind of luxury, okay?” she snapped at the two. “Some people need to work every day otherwise they don’t fucking eat!”

Then it become Tempest’s turn to be interrupted, except this time by the teacher, who cleared her throat in a very loud and deliberate manner to snap her attention back to the front of the classroom.

“Ms. Shadow, as it is your first day, I’m willing to grant you some latitude, but I would ask you refrain from disrupting the class and to mind your language. Is that understood?”

After taking a slow, calming breath, Tempest was able to suppress enough residual feelings of annoyance and animosity to respond with, “Understood.”

The classroom fell back into a calm sea of murmurings and hushed chatter while Tempest Shadow simmered in silence. Though Sunset wanted to offer up some sort of apology or rebuttal, she decided against trying to reach out to her classmate, at least not until things cooled down. Twilight offered her an apologetic smile, but said nothing else, likewise out of fear of provoking any further outbursts.

As the period drew closer to its end, Mrs. Harshwhinny called for the class’ attention once more. “Okay, now before I end the class, we’ll quickly go over the answers for the assignment. Now who would care to start with the answer to question one?” She paused for a brief moment as she scanned the class for a volunteer, and while she saw Twilight Sparkle at the back with her arm raised high, her gaze instead fixated on the less-enthusiastic student just to the right. “Ms. Shadow, would you care to start us off?”

Caught off-guard by the sudden attention, Tempest hastily shuffled her papers about until she managed to find the one she’d need. “It’s… um, seven-point-five-eight kilojoules.”

“That is correct,” the teacher replied. “Now would you please come up to the board and show your work?”

“Show my work?”

“Yes; in order to help your classmates understand how you reached the correct answer,” Mrs. Harshwhinny explained. She then grabbed a piece of a chalk and held it out as an invitation. “Now, if you’ll please.”

“Oh. Uhh… right,” Tempest mumbled, mostly to herself, as she shuffled her papers.

She proceeded to the front of the class and took the chalk from her teacher. As she pressed chalk to slate, it looked as though she was about to get started, but then she just remained motionless. Most of the students were too far away to notice the subtle tremor that had overtaken her hand, though a few of the students in the front row could hear the faint tappings as the chalk rattled against the board.

“Something’s wrong,” Twilight muttered under her breath. Were she sitting at the front of the class like she usually did, she might’ve been able to see what the problem was; all she could do from the back row was hope for the best.

Eventually, Tempest’s arm just fell to her side, with a simple remark of, “I can’t.”

“‘Can’t’ what?” Mrs. Harshwhinny asked.

“I can’t show you my work: I just copied the answer from Twilight when she wasn’t looking.”

Harshwhinny let out a brief, exasperated sigh. “Very well then,” she said as she gestured back to the rear of the class. “At least you were honest about it. Would someone else care to come up and show their work?”

As the class carried on, Twilight remained silent in her seat, staring at the front with a look of bewilderment upon her. She couldn’t believe that her friend had cheated. Literally. As far as she could recall, Tempest had been hunched over her desk, hard at work, the entire time. There hadn’t been any opportunity for her friend to cheat, and she had been keeping watch over Tempest so she knew that for a fact.

“Why would she lie about cheating?”

Chapter 4

“Holy—it is you, Fizzle! Wow, I haven’t seen you in months.”

“Oh, hello, Indigo. I guess it has been a while.”

“No kidding. I’m… uh, sorry to hear about your mom. How’re you holding up? You ever coming back to Crystal Prep?”

“I’m fine, but there’s not much money left.”

“That sucks.”

“...”

“Hey, Fizzle… what’re you hiding behind your back?”

Luckily for Tempest, she managed to escape from Mrs. Harshwhinny’s class with only a stern warning and a brief lecture on work ethics. A few quiet nods and an insincere ‘it’ll never happen again,’ and she was on her way to the next class, which just so happened to be gym.

On that day, the class was being held outdoors, assembled on the edge of the track field where a variety of track and field equipment had already been set up in advance for them. Twilight, having had to stay behind to stay close to Tempest, was among the last to arrive, now adorned in a simple tee and shorts for what would likely be a vigorous class.

“Hey, Twi, over here!” Sunset called over to her friend, waving one hand high in the air. Alongside her was Rainbow Dash, who was arguably the most excited person in the class, as anything involving sports was infinitely preferable to textbooks and lectures.

“Sorry I’m a little late,” Twilight apologized as she hurried over.

“Don’t worry about it: Coach is still grabbing some things from storage, so we’ve got a few minutes,” Dash waved off the concern. “I heard you’ve brought along a new friend.”

“You have?”

“I was just telling her about Tempest,” Sunset explained. Before she could continue on, she noticed a conspicuous absence. “Say, where is she anyways? I thought you said she had all the same classes as you?”

“She’s just taking a little longer to get changed, that’s all. It seemed like she wanted to wait until everyone else had left before she got started.”

Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes as a playful smirk crossed her features. “Geeze, given what I heard from Sunset, I wouldn’t have pictured her to be the shy type.”

“I-I’m sure she’s just taking her time,” Twilight answered. Despite her best efforts to put on a calm and reassuring front, the nervousness underlying her tone betrayed her true thoughts. One skeptical glare from her friends was enough to crack her resolve. “Just… just try not to stare when she arrives, okay?”

Her confusion didn’t have to wait for long, as the aforementioned teenager arrived at the track field just a moment later. Were it anyone else, Tempest’s faded and discoloured t-shirt and shorts might’ve looked out of place amongst the well-kept and laundered wardrobes of her peers, but her classmates’ eyes were instead drawn to the parts of her arms and legs that weren’t covered.

Across both of her legs and arms, a myriad of creases and discolourations scarred her skin: some were wide and jagged, furrowing into her flesh like tiny canyons; while others were straight, clean, and precise—the tell-tale signs of surgical work. They wormed their way up and down the lengths of her legs, around the knees, along the thighs, and eventually disappearing beneath the hem of her shorts, leaving the onlookers only guessing as to how far they truly went.

“Hey, my eyes are up here!” Tempest snapped.

“Sorry!” chimed Dash, Sunset, and Twilight in unison.

“Like you’ve never seen a person with a scar before.”

“Well, not like that,” Dash remarked. “What the heck happened? Did you play hopscotch through a minefield?”

The remark was met with a sharp elbow to the side from Sunset, followed by, “Dash!”

“It’s what happens when you get into a car accident and your knees become a crumple zone,” Tempest answered, undaunted by the other girl’s lack of tact. “I take it you’re another one of Twilight’s friends?”

“The name’s Rainbow Dash!” she introduced herself with a burst of renewed exuberance. “Captain of the soccer team, lead guitarist of the Rainbooms, and the most awesomest person at Canterlot High. Nice to meet’cha!”

Dash then offered out a handshake, though it went unreciprocated. She stood with her arm outstretched for a moment, wondering why she was getting such a cold shoulder, until Sunset once again nudged an elbow into her side.

“Your hand,” Sunset whispered.

“What do you mean my—” Dash’s confusion came to an abrupt and screeching halt when she looked down and realized the glaring error: she had her right hand out, which made it very difficult for any left-handed person to accept the gesture.

“Oh shi—! Sorry! I didn’t mean to—”

“Just don’t do it again,” Tempest interrupted.

Not wanting to linger on her mistake, Dash carried on as if nothing had happened. “Sunset tells me you’re an ex-Crystal Prep student,” she said as she took another long look at the newcomer, this time keeping her eyes above the neckline. “You look a little familiar. Did you play any sports with them?”

“Softball.”

“That’s it! Now I remember,” Dash exclaimed, pounding a fist into her palm in her excitement. “I saw you playing in an exhibition match against us back when I was in my freshman year. You threw seven hitless innings in a row.”

“Oh, right. That game.” In a rare moment of honesty, Tempest flashed a modest smile. Those days felt like an old dream that stuck to her mind, but hearing it from the mouth of another felt like confirmation that it wasn’t something that existed solely in her mind. “Probably the best game I pitched that year.”

“Only because I wasn’t there.”

“Come again?”

“What?” Dash replied as she feigned a harmless shrug. “I’m just saying, if I were playing that match, I totally would’ve knocked one right out of the park.”

Tempest let out a quick chortle, as if watching a kitten trying to sound fierce. Maybe Dash was right, maybe it was all bluster, but it was all academic in her current state. “Shame that my pitching days are behind me: I would’ve loved to have made you eat your words.”

“If you’re interested, we could find another way to test your mettle.”

Though Twilight was wary of Dash’s offer, she held her tongue for the time being. If nothing else, it looked as though Tempest might actually have found something positive at Canterlot High, if the confident grin on the teen’s face was anything to go by. She had a good feeling that the former athletic star of Crystal Prep would hit it off with Canterlot High’s own champion Wondercolt.

After a few warm-up stretches, some jumping jacks, and a brisk jog around the track to get the blood flowing, the class was divided up into smaller groups and dispersed amongst the various track and field events set up about the field. Under the warm glow of the midday sun, Twilight and her friends gathered at one end of a long stretch of track in preparation for one hundred meter dashes.

“I hope you’re hungry, Tempest,” Dash said while stooping down low to stretch out her quads, “because you’re about to eat my dust.”

The other teen just smirked as she took position near the starting line. “And you’re about to eat your words.”

“Um, I think we’re supposed to be doing individual timed runs,” a confused Twilight pointed out. She was confident in her answer, too, since she had been given a stopwatch by the coach for that express purpose.

Her friends, however, appeared unconcerned by such notions, as they both just rolled their eyes and scoffed in unison.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Tempest remarked in jest.

“Yeah, Twi, where’s your competitive spirit?”

Knowing better than to stand between Rainbow Dash and a contest, or, better yet, Tempest and the potential foundations of a new lifelong friendship, Twilight moved to the side and watched her friends prepare for their race. The other students in their group also gathered in the wings; they were all eager to see how the new girl measured up against Canterlot’s best athlete.

Sunset stood to the side of the starting line and raised her hand up high. “On your mark! Get set—”

“Ready to lose, Tempest?”

“I’m more than fast enough to deal with the likes of you.”

“—Go!”

The two girls launched into a frenzied sprint, flying down the track to the cheers and hollars of their classmates. To everyone’s surprise, Tempest was able to keep pace with Dash, remaining neck-and-neck with her for most of the sprint.

For a few, brief seconds, Tempest wasn’t at Canterlot High: she was back at the baseball diamond behind Crystal Prep Academy. High above, a midsummer's sun burned bright with a sweltering, unrelenting heat, but she didn’t care. Even as beads of sweat cascaded down her face, the only thing that mattered to her was the home plate just up ahead. The crowds were cheering; her teammates were shouting at her to run harder, run faster; the opposing team’s catcher stood up ahead, her eyes bouncing between the oncoming Tempest and the ball sailing towards home. All the work, blood, and sweat Tempest and her team had poured into the game would be decided with one last burst of speed, of grit, of determination.

Then reality came crashing back as a sharp pain rocketed up her leg. It wasn’t severe, but it was just enough to throw her gait off-balance, and her once fluid motions became lopsided and sluggish. In the last few strides of the race, Rainbow Dash was able to pull ahead of Tempest and win.

All the cheers suddenly felt very distant to Tempest, who meandered for a short distance past the finish line before collapsing to her knees. Through heavy, laboured breaths, she could already hear the other students congratulating Dash. It seemed like everybody was reveling in the spectacle—everybody except Tempest.

“That was a pretty sweet race.”

The voice directed at her made Tempest lift her gaze back up to see Rainbow Dash standing over her with a hand outstretched.

With a heavy breath, Tempest pushed herself back onto her feet, snubbing the offer of help. “I… I want a rematch,” she said.

“Well, if you want to lose again that badly,” Dash replied, unwilling to pass up the opportunity for another competition.

The second race went even worse for Tempest: no sense of euphoria, no exhilaration from classmates cheering her on, or even anything resembling a chance at victory. All she found instead was that same burst of agony stabbing her leg with every step, and the disheartening sight of Rainbow Dash pulling further and further ahead of her with absolute ease. By the time she managed to cross, it felt less like a race and more like an exercise in futility.

Still wrapped up in the exuberance of her victory, Dash did a little sprint past Tempest with an ear-to-ear triumphant grin. “I guess you’re not as fast as you thought you were,” she teased.

Tempest said nothing in response, save for a quiet growl under her breath. She would’ve remained where she was, sneering and glaring daggers at her adversary, had she not felt a hand fall upon her shoulder.

“It’s okay, Tempest; it’s just a race,” Twilight said, now at her friend’s side.

“Right… just a race.”

After whispering that mantra over to herself a few more times, Tempest accompanied her friend to watch their classmates take their turns on the track. There would be other activities that day, so there would be other opportunities to make up for these losses. Maybe she wasn’t as fast as she used to be, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t find somewhere else to excel in.

Unfortunately, fate appeared to be determined to ensure that the rest of the gym class went as poorly for Tempest as her second race had.

During the the high jump, while Tempest could match what most of her classmates could, her attempts to go any higher ended in her colliding with the bar over and over again. Dash, on the other hand, won by a comfortable margin, despite everyone’s insistence that it wasn’t a competition.

At the shot put, Tempest had the strength to get good distance, but she struggled with her accuracy. One throw went so far off-course, it made a few students reconsider where they stood while spectating.

Long jump concluded with equally mixed results. On most of her attempts, she managed a decent distance, but she had trouble sticking the landings and repeatedly found herself face-first in the sand.

As the end of class drew closer, the frustration and tension coming from Tempest was almost palpable. She expected better from herself; she wanted better from herself, but all the wishful thinking in the world wasn’t making it so.

The last event of the class was the baton relay, and although it was another running event, it at least gave Tempest one last chance for a rematch with Rainbow Dash. The two students squared off at the last leg of race, trying to size one another up while also watching their teammates as they rounded the track.

“Hope you don’t think I’ll go easy on you just because Twilight’s on your team,” Dash remarked, one leg tucked behind her back as she limbered up.

“Just don’t let that inflated ego slow you down,” Tempest snapped back. As much as she would’ve enjoyed trading verbal barbs with her opponent, her teammate was closing in. To her surprise, Twilight was able to keep pace with Dash’s teammate. “Not bad for a bookworm…”

Even though there were four teams on the track, once the batons were passed over, the race boiled down to just Dash and Tempest with all eyes fixed on them. They were neck-and-neck and shoulder-to-shoulder, neither one showing any sign of letting up. For Tempest Shadow, she poured everything she had into this final race. Even though her legs screamed in protest, she refused to give in. She could do this.

She had to do this.

But just as she and Dash were entering the final stretch, disaster struck. Tempest felt her foot hit something mid-stride. It knocked her completely off-balance and for a brief moment, a surge of panic shot through her as it felt like she was about to fall into a tumble and ruin her chance at victory. Somehow, though, she managed to catch her balance with her hand at just the last second, though her palm hitting the ground at an awkward angle felt like it was about to wrench her shoulder from its socket.

Still, it was enough to keep Tempest on her feet, and she was able to get back into her stride soon after. When she tried to look to her opponent to see how far she had fallen behind, she was shocked to find Dash several feet behind her, sprawled across the track in a daze. She must have fallen as well!

It might not have been quite the victory that she had envisioned, but Tempest wasn’t about to let good fortune go unexploited. With no other threats to her race, she was even able to slow her pace and take it easy when she crossed the finish line, arms raised in celebration.

However, it only took her a moment to realize that she appeared to be the only one celebrating. She had hoped for maybe a few cheers, or at least a meagre congratulations from Twilight. Instead, the first thing she heard from her friend was drastically different.

“Oh my goodness! Dash, are you okay?”

“Right… her,” Tempest mentally sighed.

In retrospect, the concern shouldn’t have surprised her: Dash and Twilight were friends, after all, so it was only natural for her to be worried. It did somewhat dampen the exhilaration of triumph, but Tempest was reminded of the old adage involving beggars and choosers. After watching Twilight and several other students rush to their fallen classmate’s side, she figured it would be best to at least put on a show of concern.

She wandered over just as Sunset Shimmer was helping Dash back to her feet, granting the injured runner a shoulder to lean upon.

“Tough break there; hope it was only your ego that got bruised,” Tempest remarked.

Not the most graceful way to bask in one’s victory, but she figured after spending the entire class watching Dash outperform her at every turn, she was owed this.

“Tough break?” Dash snapped back. “Are you kidding me? You tripped me back there!”

Tempest’s face contorted in a snarl the second those words hit her ears. “Like hell I did!” she barked.

“I wouldn’t just fall on my own! I know what I felt: your foot! You couldn’t stand losing to me again so you tripped me!”

It took every ounce of willpower left in her to keep Tempest from knocking Dash’s lights out. She was not going to let this be taken from her: not like this, and most certainly not from the likes of Dash. That girl had already taken top spot in practically event they did that day. Was one victory so much to ask for?

“You lost, Rainbow Dash, just accept it!”

“Because you cheated!”

Tempest took a step towards Dash, fist clenched in ever-growing rage, and she was just about ready to lunge when Twilight stepped in between the two.

“Please, you two, that’s enough,” Twilight pleaded. Though her words were directed to both girls, her gaze was focused on Tempest in a second, silent appeal to her friend. “I-I’m sure it was just an accident. Tempest wouldn’t do something like that.”

“She did admit to cheating in chemistry class,” Sunset pointed out.

“Ah-ha!” Dash exclaimed, feeling more vindicated in her claim. “Jay-cues!”

Tempest’s anger was forced inwards as she buried her face into her palm. “That’s… not how it’s pronounced.”

Somehow, though, that brief instant of disbelief was enough to derail her fury and allow her better judgement to assume control. Though her anger was still bubbling hot and she looked ready to explode at the drop of a hat, she eventually forced herself to turn about face.

“Oh, to hell with the lot of you,” she growled as she stormed off.

Watching her friend leave, Twilight felt compelled to chase after her, but she was held in place by apprehension. She didn’t want to believe the accusations, but a compelling case had been made. Even if she did chase after her, what would she say? She had never dealt with someone who clearly held so much anger in their heart. But she had to do something…

Twilight waited outside the changing rooms after gym class with the hopes that some time might temper her friend’s frustration, as well to speak her with some modicum of privacy. Just as with the start of class, Tempest clearly took her time changing as every other student in the class filed out of the locker room with no sign of her. Among the last to leave was Sunset Shimmer, who had been delayed due to taking Dash to the nurse’s office.

“Is she still in there?” Twilight asked upon seeing her friend.

Sunset nodded, though her avoidant gaze betrayed her own sentiments. “Twilight, listen, I don’t want to sound pessimistic, but… are you sure about Tempest?”

“What do you mean?” a confused, but worried, Twilight asked.

“Cheating in class, tripping someone in a race: that doesn’t seem like somebody who wants to be here. I’m worried about you, that’s all; I don’t want to see you getting hurt.”

“Were you any different before the Fall Formal?”

“No, but back then I was up to something.” Sunset knew her past made her the last person that should be criticizing others attempting to reform, but at the same time it did give her insight into what a person trying to reform looked like. “Maybe I’m just paranoid, but I’m just too reminded of how I used to be. It’s like she’s just barely tolerating everyone around her; like she’d rather be anywhere else.”

“I’ll admit she’s having trouble adjusting to school life again, but I don’t think that’s because she doesn’t want to be here,” Twilight insisted. “I think you’re wrong about her, and I’m not giving up.”

Sunset sighed, but managed a weak and hopeful smile to her friend. If anybody could make this work, it’d be Twilight, and that girl’s tenacity was not something to be underestimated. “I hope I’m wrong, too,” she replied. “I’ll save you and Tempest a seat at the lunch table, okay?”

The two friends waved good-bye as they went their separate ways with Twilight heading to go back into the locker room. The nervousness she felt earlier had faded from her mind, and had been replaced with a newfounded resolve thanks to her brief conversation with Sunset.

“Tempest? Are you in here?” Twilight called out as she opened the door.

When she didn’t hear a reply, she stepped inside, and found her friend sitting at the far side of the room. Something was wrong, though: Tempest normally carried herself with a tall and confident posture, but instead she sat slouched forward on the bench with elbows upon her knees, staring forlorn at the discoloured tiles beneath her feet. She hadn’t even changed out of her gym clothes. If Twilight didn’t know any better, she would’ve said her friend looked defeated.

“Are… are you okay, Tempest?”

“I used to be fast, Twilight,” her friend’s somber voice replied. “Used to be able to run like the wind: one hundred meter, two hundred, four hundred, a thousand. It didn’t matter. But I can’t anymore.”

“You were still pretty good out there. Maybe with some practise you could—”

“It’s not about training!” Tempest snapped, though her frustration sounded more like a desperate flailing than directed ire. “I haven’t pushed myself this hard in years, but I can tell.” She took a few deep breaths to calm herself, though her expression continued to sink. “You know, when you’re young, you just think of injuries as little inconveniences. Sprain your ankle? Some tape and a few weeks, and you’re good as new. Broken wrist? A cast and a few months. But this—” Tempest fell silent as she ran her fingertips over the scarred contours of her knee. “—this is forever. I’m never going to be ‘good as new’ again. It’s there when I wake up in the morning; it’s there when I go to sleep… and it’ll only ever get worse. And I have to live with this for the rest of my life.”

“Is it really that bad?”

“Twilight, they had to put my legs back together like a goddamn jigsaw puzzle. I have pins and rods and plates and screws running all the way up and down the lower half of me,” Tempest answered. Her tone, however, was at least returning to some measure of its usual sense of resolve and control. “I lost those races today for the same reason I’m still sitting here, even after everyone’s left.”

It took Twilight a moment to finally realize what her friend was referring to, once she shook off her preconceptions. Back in the alley when she was being held at knifepoint, Tempest seemed like an invincible fortress. It was hard to reconcile those memories of strength and dominance with the person she now saw before her.

“How bad is the pain?”

“Bad enough to make me think twice about standing…”

The air of self-assurance that always seemed to permeate from her friend was absent, replaced with a look of withered hope at the prospect of a future trapped in a body that was just barely holding together. That was something Twilight expected from people in their eighties, not when they were eighteen. She wished that Sunset and Dash could’ve been here, and seen for themselves that behind the aggression and stand-off attitude, was someone just trying to hold on to what dignity they could.

Twilight sat down, giving her friend a warm and hopefully reassuring smile. Seeing her in a more sympathetic light, another realization came to mind. “Back in chemistry class, you didn’t copy my answers, did you?” she remarked rhetorically. “You just didn’t want to write on the board in front of everyone: because you used to be right-handed.”

“When people look at me, they just see some feeble, broken, one-handed girl. Then when they see my chicken scrawl writing, they think there’s something wrong with my head, too.” She stared for a moment in silence at her arms, one hand shaking from fatigue and injury, and the other absent altogether. “I’d rather they think I’m a cheat than a weakling. Not that it matters, nobody ever bothers to try and see the real me.”

“Well, I see you,” Twilight reassured her before she edged a little closer on the bench. “Just the fact that you’re here, refusing to give up despite everything, shows that you’re stronger and braver than anyone I’ve met.” She reached over and gently laid her hand upon Tempest’s forearm, feeling the scars on the stump for herself. “Asking for help when you need it doesn’t take anything away from that. I want you to know that whatever happens, I’ll always be your friend.”

Tempest finally pried her eyes off the floor and looked over to her friend, flashing a weak and awkward smile.

“Could you help me with my shoes?”

“Your shoes?” Twilight repeated.

“Yeah. I’m feeling really stiff, so could you help me with them? Or are gym shoes where you draw the line?”

Tempest grumbled under her breath as she stood outside her apartment door, hand in her coat pocket as she fumbled for her keys. It would’ve been easier had she not been balancing her backpack over one shoulder and holding another container of lasagna with her other arm. In retrospect, it might’ve been wiser to let Twilight carry the food back to the apartment rather than insist she could carry everything home from school on her own. The struggle was almost over, however, and soon the prize would make her juggling act worth the effort.

“Well, well, well, if I didn’t see it with my own two eyes, I’d’ve never believed it,” King’s voice popped up from behind Tempest.

For her part, Tempest neither flinched nor bothered to look over her shoulder, as she was far more focused getting her keys into the door. “Can we do this another time? I’ve got a lot of homework to finish up tonight.”

“Homework? Oh, my goodness, just listen to you!” King exclaimed with almost childish jubilation. He leaned up against the wall next to Tempest, and reached over to give her cheek a pinch and a tug. “Look at you, with your homework and your little backpack. Oh, aren’t you just precious? You kids grow up so fast these days.”

When Tempest took a swipe at him to shoo him away, she dropped her keys, and before she could even react, they had already been scooped up by King. “Tempest, darling, you’re breaking my heart here,” he lamented as he held the keys out to her. “I thought we had something special going on. What are you doing giving up all of this just to hang out with a bunch of whiny teenagers?”

Tempest just frowned before she snatched her belongings back. “That’s none of your goddamn business, King; my reasons are my own.”

“Everything that happens here is my business,” King insisted before he leaned in closer with an obviously insincere smile, like a sketchy used cars salesman. “I’m just worried about you, that’s all. You’re one of my best little helpers, after all, and I’d hate for something to happen to you.”

“I’ll be fine,” Tempest replied, a faint flicker of uncertainty punctuating her defiance. “If this is about my work, I’ll just run some extra jobs for you on the weekends. I can make up the extra money there.”

King let out a quiet, knowing chuckle as he leaned back. “Don’t you worry about the money part: I’ve already got that covered.” Reaching into his coat, he pulled out a small ziplock bag that contained a plethora of little white tablets.

“The hell are those?” Tempest asked as she leaned in for a closer look, though her confusion quickly turned to anger. “You want me to push drugs on my classmates? Are you insane? I’m trying to graduate! Haven’t you ever heard of the saying ‘don’t shit where you eat’?”

Despite the hostility, King appeared undaunted, even perhaps a little amused. “Tempest, Tempest, Tempest, no need to get angry,” he insisted with feigned innocence. “I’m just doing what any businessman would do: turning crisis into opportunity. Or have you forgotten the saying, ‘don’t bite the hand that feeds you’?”

In an instant, Tempest’s expression subsided, replaced with one of a more docile nature. Uncertain eyes continued to flick between King and the drugs as she found herself unable to say anything.

“Think of it like a public service,” King continued. Seeing Tempest disarmed, he pulled her in and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “These are just a little… study aid. It’ll help those little, upper-middle-class suburban kids pass their exams and finish those essays so they can live up to Mom and Dad’s unrealistic expectations.”

“But… these people are my friends…”

“Are they really?” King asked as his voice dropped lower. “Try to remember they’re the ones that turned their backs on you. You’re not like them: they are weak and helpless little sheep. And you… you’re the wolf.”

Slowly, he pushed the bag into Tempest’s palm, and her fingers instinctively closed around it. Once he knew her grip was firm, he released her and stepped away, leaving the girl in a silent torpor.

“Remember who took you in when everybody else had abandoned you,” King continued, reaching out to rest a hand on her shoulder. “I’m the one who helped to make you who you are today, and you are better than them—stronger than them. If you want to waste your time trying to relive your glory days, go ahead… but don’t forget who you really are.”

Tempest closed her eyes and let out a faint, wistful sigh before she nodded in silence.

“Thadda girl,” King said with a few hardy pats on the shoulder. “Now you be sure to study hard and get some rest: it’s a school night, after all.”

“This is… who I am…”

Chapter 5

“W-what happened to you, Fizzle?”

“I tried to take the stairs and… I fell…”

“Are you nuts? You know you’re not ready for that. Just—come on, we need to get you cleaned up.”

“Don’t touch me! I can take care of this myself.”

Canterlot

Two years ago

Fizzlepop was huddled in a small nook of the back alley, hidden between a pair of half-empty dumpsters that smelled of old fish and misery. The dank evening air and rancid odours may not have made for the best dining experience, but hunger had a way of making even the worst situations seem appetizing. So despite any sense of disgust, the young girl’s only interest was in the half-eaten hot dog she held in her hand, which she took apart with one ravenous bite after another.

It was less like eating and more like inhaling. Even wild animals showed more deference towards their meals.

She would’ve continued until the hot dog was little more than a distant memory, except that the sound of approaching footsteps caught her attention. Were she faster, she might’ve been able to spring to her feet, but even just back up to a standing position was difficult when one’s legs were held together with rods and plates.

There was a subtle groan of rusted metal shifting as one of the dumpsters jostled slightly, and that was when an older man leaned over just enough to look down upon Fizzlepop.

“Just for future reference, little missy, when you steal somebody’s dinner from under their nose, you might want to run more than a couple blocks before you stop to eat,” the man remarked with a hint of amusement. A grin creased across his thick, scruffy features as he regarded the downtrodden teen before him; between the lightly dusted clothes that hung from her frame like it was a coat hanger and the wary, uneasy glint in the girl’s eyes, he knew precisely what he was dealing with. “You can stop gawking at me, kiddo, and you may as well finish eating. It’s not like I want that back at this point.”

Having been given explicit permission, Fizzlepop continued eating, although she kept her eyes fixed on the man. Despite his relaxed posture and disarming grin, she wasn’t about to drop her guard around him just yet. The way he confidently carried himself about in his faded jeans and heavy leather coat made her wary: all of her instincts told her he was dangerous.

“I haven’t seen you around here before. You’re new to the streets, right?” he asked.

“H-how did you—”

“Someone your age doesn’t hang around this part of town unless they don’t have a choice,” he explained without missing a beat. “Plus, you’re eating like that’s your first meal in ages, but your clothes don’t quite look dirty enough to pass as a vagrant yet. On top of that, if you were from around here, you’d’ve known who I was, and would’ve thought twice about taking my dinner.”

Fizzlepop was half-way through another mouthful when she heard the vaguely threatening-sounding remark, which prompted her to freeze again and swallow hard. Once again, though, the man just kept on smiling as if nothing was amiss.

“I’m actually kinda surprised you managed to steal from me,” the man commented idly as his gaze turned skywards. “I’m usually a lot more careful about my things. I guess I just didn’t think a lil’ squirt like you was any threat to me. Should’ve paid more attention…”

“Your fault for flirting so much with the cashier,” Fizzlepop answered.

“Ha! You got me there,” the man said with an uproar of laughter. As he settled down, however, he checked his wristwatch. His smile vanished for a brief moment. “Time for me to run, kiddo. You enjoy the rest of your dinner, you’ve earned it.”

Confused, but not wanting to push her luck, Fizzlepop remained silent as she watched the strange man leave. However, he only made it to the far end of the alley when he was suddenly approached by another man: a man whose looks reminded her of those gangster caricatures they used in those old ‘don’t do drugs’ videos she watched back at Crystal Prep Academy. She couldn’t hear what the two were saying, though judging from the second man’s gestures and increasing volume, he was upset about something. He then shoved the first man, who responded in kind.

Now, Fizzlepop knew she should just mind her own business, as one man’s disagreement was hardly worth sticking her neck out for. She had enough problems on her own plate without getting involved with someone else’s. However, she couldn’t take her eyes away as she watched the scuffle begin to escalate into a full-blown fist-fight between the two. The second, larger man soon had the first up against the wall and struck him again and again.

Despite everything in her head telling her otherwise, Fizzlepop was soon on her feet and heading towards the pair. As the fight started to shift more and more in favour of the second man, she hurried her pace until she was in a full-blown sprint. The first man had been brought to his knees when Fizzlepop suddenly lunged in, jumping onto the other man with a banshee-like shriek.

“What the fu—!” The second man was taken completely by surprise. The girl’s arms hooked around his throat, anchoring her to him, and as her grip tightened around him, it threw the man into a panic. He flailed and swung about in a wild, desperate fashion as he tried to shake her loose.

The other man didn’t waste the moment of distraction, and he rose back to his feet to deliver a stunning punch straight into the latter man’s stomach. Now it was the larger man’s turn to fall to his knees, helpless now as both assailants pressed their advantage.

“Okay, that’s enough, you can get off him,” the first man said. Once Fizzlepop complied, he just smirked. “Good, now I can do this!” He took a few steps back, and with a running start he felled the other man with one last swift kick to the jaw. “And the crowd goes wild!”

After taking a moment to collect himself and finish his self-congratulatory chuckle, the man looked over to Fizzlepop, who surprised him by holding her ground with a firm and resolute expression on her face. It was evident that she was no more afraid of him than she had been of the man now face-down in the alley.

“I had that guy right where I wanted him, ya know, but thanks all the same,” the man remarked. He took another look at Fizzlepop from top to bottom, one hand stroking at his chin in thought. “You know, you’ve got a lot of guts, kid. I wouldn’t mind having someone like you working for me.”

“Me? Working for you?”

“You’re a little bit younger than I usually recruit, but you’ve definitely got the right stuff for it,” he continued on. He walked a slow circle around Fizzlepop, continuing to hum and haw as if examining a new car. “Yeah, yeah, I think this could work. With a little bit of training, I think you would do just nicely.”

“And what kind of work do you do?”

He smiled again, that same disarming look he had on his face earlier that would’ve made any adult second-guess everything he said. “Just odd jobs here and there, mostly selling and buying goods for the community. A kid with your guts could really go places in this line of work.”

“Well, I don’t know…” Fizzlepop mumbled under breath as she thought it over. It sounded too good to be true, and the idea of putting her trust into someone again didn’t sit well with her.

“Up to you, kid! There’s no pressure or anything,” the man insisted. “But think about it: you can take your chances out here on your own, begging and pleading for charity from strangers that are as likely to steal from you as they are to help; or you can work for me, and I promise you’ll never have to beg for anything again.”

There was a strength and confidence in his words, a toxicity that slithered into her mind and filled it with visions of power and self-determination. If she were stronger, she’d never need charity from anyone, she’d never have to rely on another person… be let down by others. With him, she could learn to stand on her own two feet, and that was all the convincing she needed.

“I’ll do it!”

“Smart choice, kiddo.” The man offered out his hand to her. “You can call me King. What’s your name?”

“It’s F—” she caught herself before she could go any further. Fizzlepop Berrytwist was the name of a child, and children were weak, pitiful little things. She knew if she wanted to leave her past behind, she had to start fresh and be reborn with a new identity. “It’s Tempest, Tempest Shadow.”

As they exchanged a quick handshake, Tempest knew she had made the right choice. She felt stronger already.

“Now, first order of business,” King continued on. “This fellow is starting to come to. Could you be a dear, and remind him to stay down?”

Tempest looked to the fallen man: his face was already bruised and covered in blood, but he was beginning to murmur and his eyes were twitching to regain focus. Anyone with good sense would know that he wasn’t going to be a threat to anybody for a while, but all she saw was weakness. Fueled by a growing sense of contempt and disgust, she lifted her foot over his face and brought it down with all her might.

“Just keep it together, Tempest. You’re just going to school, same as yesterday… except with a couple hundred dollars worth of illicit drugs in your backpack. It’ll be fine. It’s not like they do random locker searches.”

Tempest had more reasons to be nervous than she could count when she arrived at Canterlot High the next morning. What was she going to do? She didn’t want to have to push drugs on the other students, if for no other reason than she had a feeling most of the teeangers around her were the goody-two-shoe type who would report her in a heartbeat to the principal, and then Tempest could say farewell to her chances at graduating. However, King wasn’t the kind of man who accepted failure, especially if she returned to him and tried to pretend that nobody was interested in buying.

As she reached her locker and started twirling the combination dial, all she could think of was how Twilight would respond if she found out about this. Did she really mean it when she said she would be her friend no matter what? It was a bold promise to make, and logic alone dictated that there had to be limits to that sense of loyalty. Nobody was that unconditional in their friendship. There were always things that were unforgivable.

Even if by some miracle Twilight didn’t freak out about this, what could one high schooler do to help? On top of that, did she really want to drag Twilight into another mess involving King? She was lucky to have gotten him to leave her friend alone the first time they met. If he had tried to call her bluff… well, she didn’t want to think how that would have ended.

If she had more money, she could just ‘buy’ the drugs herself; King would never know the difference, but then he might take it as an invitation to keep selling, or maybe have her sell something worse. Still, if she could convince him it was a poor market then he might lose interest.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do, Bon-Bon,” a girl’s voice caught her attention. It was only just noticeable above the background noise of all the other students around her, but she recognized that tone of desperation. Her eyes followed the voice to its source: a pair of her classmates, one unpacking their belongings into their locker, and the other about to have a panic attack. “The test is tomorrow, but I’ve got practice after class until the evening. Oh, I’m so far behind… I’m going to have to study all night if I’m going to have any hope!”

On the other hand, was it really that bad of an idea to offload a few pills here and there? People did it all the time in other schools, didn’t they? It wasn’t like she was pushing hard narcotics: these pills just made people more focused and alert. It was like taking an extra cup of coffee when you were tired. In the end, the student would get the grades they wanted, and Tempest would get the money she needed. It was a victimless crime, really.

So why did she still feel so indecisive?

“Just go for it, Tempest. Go in, probe their interest, and leave.”

It was a routine she had been through countless times before, so she grabbed her bag and casually made her way over to the fretting student. She could vaguely recall Twilight mentioning that the girl’s name was Lyra or something along those lines.

“Hey there,” Tempest greeted. She put on her best salesman-like smile, which she had seen King don a million times over. “Couldn’t help but hear you were having some problems with a test.”

“I shouldn’t have procrastinated, but I wound up binge watching the latest episodes of that new drama series!” Lyra explained. She groaned and smacked her forehead on the nearby locker door. “Stupid, stupid, stupid Lyra! If I fail this test, my parents are going to ground me for, like, a month!”

“Well, I might have an idea how to solve your little dilemma,” Tempest alluded, leaning up against the locker next to Lyra. The desperation was almost palpable. She couldn’t have asked for a better potential client. All she had to do was gauge just how far this girl would go to save herself.

So why couldn’t she say the next words?

Her mouth hung open, ready to speak, but nothing came out. All she could picture at that moment was her friend who had gone to such lengths just to give her the opportunity to be there. Could she just betray her friend’s trust like this?

Noticing Tempest having seemingly taken the moment to practise a mime routine, Lyra raised an eyebrow. “And… what idea is that?”

“A study group,” Tempest blurted out without thinking. “J-just find some friends who know the subject well. Students are usually good at simplifying explanations of complicated subjects, or sharing the tricks and methods they use to better remember things. Plus, when you have more people together, it’s easier to keep focused on a task.”

Despite having pulled the answer from the depths of her memory, Tempest’s explanation was met with a look of relief and salvation.

“Why didn’t I think of that?” Lyra exclaimed. “Hey Bon-Bon, do you want to come over to my place tonight to help me study?”

“Of course! I don’t suppose you could help me with my algebra homework while we’re at it.”

As the two friends began planning their evening of studying, Tempest took the opportunity to make a quick exit. She might’ve helped preserve Lyra’s sense of self-respect, but now she was the one feeling like an idiot. How could she have choked like that at the last second? A few months back and she could’ve gone through that whole conversation without batting an eye, but now she couldn’t get within arm’s reach of her true intentions.

“What is wrong with me? Am I really going soft on these people?” she contemplated in silence at the relative refuge of her locker. “I mean, who am I really hurting by going through with this?”

Unfortunately, it was hard to be alone with one’s thoughts in the middle of a high school.

“Hey, Tempest,” Sunset Shimmer’s voice perked up just behind her.

“Haven’t seen Twilight; don’t know where she is,” she answered in a restrained, monotonous tone.

“Actually, I was hoping to talk to you,” Sunset said, correcting the erroneous presumption. “Lyra just asked me if I was interested in joining her study group tonight—she mentioned she got the idea from you.”

“Well, I just suggested stuff I used to do back at Crystal Prep,” Tempest offered out as a half-hearted answer. “It wasn’t any big deal: most anybody would’ve made a similar suggestion.”

She expected Sunset to finish the conversation and move along at the earliest convenience, but her fellow student lingered for a while, and the expression on the girl’s face suggested she was working her way to speaking about something else that was on her mind. Now Tempest had nothing against Sunset, but she had the feeling that the red-headed wonder student wasn’t buying into the whole ‘second chance at school’ routine. She wasn’t far from the truth, but the last thing Tempest needed was a do-gooder poking their nose into her business while she was still trying to figure out a way to fix her problems.

“Listen, I want to apologize,” Sunset eventually spoke up.

“For what exactly?”

“I… haven’t been entirely fair to you,” she admitted as she wrung her hands. “Like, after the baton relay in gym class, it was wrong of me to just blurt out about you cheating in science, which by the way Twilight is insisting wasn’t the case.” She flashed an apologetic smile, though Tempest was not yet ready to return the sentiment. “The truth is, I was a lot like you not too long ago.”

“I somehow doubt that,” Tempest remarked with a skeptical glare.

“But it’s true! I mean, I know I haven’t gone through as much hardship as you have, but I used to be angry and spiteful, and full of hate. You can ask anybody here: they all remember how much I used to torment them.”

“And you think I am?” Tempest replied with an irritated glare.

“N-no, I didn’t mean it like that!” Sunset hastily corrected herself. “What I mean to say is, I know what it’s like to try and turn your life around after being in a bad place.”

Letting out a snort, Tempest just rolled her eyes and started putting her things into her locker. “I don’t need your understanding, Sunset,” she scoffed in defiance.

“Hey, I’m just trying to be a friend.”

“Well I didn’t ask for your friendship!” the irate teen snapped. “I’m here to graduate: nothing more, nothing less. So just stay the hell out of my way, and we won’t have any problems.”

In her anger and haste, Tempest forgot about the contraband sitting at the bottom of her bag. As she pulled out one of her textbooks, the plastic bag got snagged on a corner and was pulled out along with it. She didn’t even realize what had happened until she heard the ‘thump’ as the pouch of drugs hit the ground.

“What are those?” Sunset asked, scooping up the plastic bag before Tempest could react. However, even a cursory look would yield the obvious answer. “Are these what I think they are?”

“Give those back!” Tempest tried to snatch the drugs back, but Sunset was able to keep them out of arm’s reach for the moment. “Those are none of your business!”

Were it anyone else, Sunset might have felt inclined to give them the benefit of the doubt, but she had already been suspicious of Tempest before. Combined with how defensive the other girl suddenly got, it now looked as though her concerns had just been justified.

“Just what are you up to?”

“You don’t understand,” Tempest growled. “Now give those to me, and we can all just pretend this didn’t happen.”

Having grown impatient with the other girl’s obstinance, Sunset decided to take a more forceful approach. “Fine, if you won’t tell me the truth, then I’ll just have to find it myself!”

Summoning up her magic, Sunset seized Tempest by the wrist. In an instant, her mind was filled with images of the past days: of Tempest holding up Twilight at knifepoint in an alley, and of a man shoving a packet of drugs into her hand with orders to sell them to her classmates. Before she could see more and get a full picture, however, Tempest pulled her arm away.

“Oh my god,” Sunset gasped in disbelief and horror. “You… you pulled a knife on Twilight?”

“What? How did you—” Tempest paused for a brief instant when she noticed that Sunset wore an amulet very similar in appearance to the one that Twilight had with her. “You too? What kind of goddamn hoodoo magic bullshit did you just pull?”

By this point, the shouting had attracted the attention of the surrounding students, and the crowds gathering around did not go unnoticed by Tempest. It felt like she was getting boxed in: dozens of piercing, judging eyes watching her every move and action now. She had to get out of this. She needed to get out of this before things got worse—before Twilight found out.

“I can see your memories, Tempest; you can’t hide the truth anymore!” Sunset explained, punctuating her remarks by pointing a finger at the other girl.

Tempest had nothing to reply with: her mind had gone blank, and she just froze like a deer caught in the headlights.

A lack of response didn’t stop Sunset, however. “Twilight trusted you!” she exclaimed. “We welcomed you into our school, and this is how you repay us? We were just trying to help you fix your life.”

“Fix... me?”

The void in Tempest’s mind was soon flooded with a surge of the trusted, familiar pyre of anger. A more sensible person would’ve tried to turn away, but for her, these feelings were almost welcomed. It wasn’t trust or friendship, but fury that had kept her safe all of the years she was on her own. In the absence of rationality, all she could fall back on was instinct.

And those instincts told her to take action.

“You little bitch!” Tempest snarled before she lunged forward.

There wasn’t even enough time to react before Sunset found herself slammed up against the locker with a forearm pressed against her throat.

“I am here for me and nobody else!” Tempest barked in her victim’s face. “Not for Twilight, not for King, and sure as hell not for you!”

Sunset coughed and gurgled as she flailed in a desperate attempt to get free, but Tempest had her completely overpowered. Her face began to turn red as she struggled to catch any breath she could. She tried pounding on the other girl’s arms with all her might, but her assailant didn’t even flinch. And she would see no mercy from Tempest, who just saw another weak little girl who needed to be put in their place.

“I’m not your goddamn charity case to piece back together so you can go home and feel good about yourself! I don’t want or need your help because I’m not broken!”

As she raised a clenched fist, somebody watching finally took action and grabbed her by the arm. “Tempest, stop this! Let her go!”

But Tempest was running solely on rage and instinct, so her response to the interference was to pull her arm free and then snap her elbow back, which caught the person right in the face. It wasn’t until she heard the shriek that her brain was able to register whom the voice belonged to.

Tempest looked behind her, and reality came crashing down around her ears. Twilight was sprawled on the ground with a look of shock and terror in her tear-filled eyes. She had her hands over her face, though it wasn’t able to conceal the faint traces of blood that trickled down her chin.

“T-Twilight…”

Just as suddenly as her temper had flared up, all passion evaporated from Tempest, leaving only a lingering chill in her heart. She relented her assault on Sunset, and staggered back a few steps in disbelief. It was only then she realized that everyone was staring; everybody knew.

She wanted to get out. She had to get out!

Taking a complete one-eighty in her fight-or-flight response, Tempest snatched her drugs back and bolted for the door as fast as she could. Nobody dared to get in her way. Once she was gone, the other students began to rush in to help Sunset and Twilight back to their feet.

“Are you okay, Sunset?” Twilight asked, her voice distorted as she pinched her nose tight.

Though a little red in the face and still gasping for breath, Sunset managed a quick nod. “N-never mind about me, though, what about you?”

“I’ll be fine,” Twilight insisted. One of the students helping her up offered her a handkerchief, which she gratefully accepted and held over her bloodied nose. “I… I have to go after Tempest.”

However, she didn’t make it more than a few steps before Sunset interposed herself between her friend and the nearest exit. “Are you insane? She’s dangerous, Twilight!”

“No, she’s not! I-I’m sure there’s an explanation. She wouldn’t do this!”

“I saw the memory of her taking the drugs,” Sunset said as she seized her friend by the shoulders. “She’s not who she says she is.”

Though she knew she had no reason to doubt the memories that Sunset claimed to have seen, Twilight couldn’t ignore what she knew and felt. “I know who the real Tempest is: it’s you who haven’t seen her for who she is,” she replied as she took her friend’s hand. “You’re right in that she’s not who she says she is, so let me show who the real Tempest is.”

Twilight then placed Sunset’s hand over her wrist, and in an instant, her friend’s mind was flooded with all the memories and experiences of the past few days. Unlike the brief, interrupted connection earlier, Sunset saw every conversation the two unlikely friends shared—every moment of vulnerability and honesty, and the fear and grief that laced everything Tempest said.

When Sunset’s thoughts finally returned to reality, she was so overwhelmed by the rush of emotion that she was speechless for a few moments. “T-Twilight, I…” she stammered at first, “I’m so sorry, I had no idea. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because you can’t force somebody to start trusting again,” Twilight explained, flashing a reassuring smile. “And really, were you and I that much different when we were scared, confused, and seemingly alone against the world?”

Sunset nodded in understanding.

“Now, I’m going after her,” Twilight reiterated. “Could you let my teachers know that I’ll be back as soon as I can?”

“I’ll tell them it’s a friendship emergency; I’m sure they’ll understand.” Just as Twilight was about to leave, Sunset halted her progress once again. “Wait, there’s something I need to mention: when I saw Tempest’s memories, there was… something else in there. There was a guilt in there from something deeper. Whatever happened to her before, I don’t think she’s told you the whole story.”

Twilight gave her friend a concerned look. She didn’t want to go charging off after her friend to try and fix a problem that she didn’t know the whole story behind, but if Tempest hadn’t told her already, what could she do? She couldn’t ask Sunset to try using her magic again given the current circumstances and how Tempest reacted to the first attempt.

“Do you know of anybody else who might remember Tempest from before?” Sunset asked.

“I have an idea,” Twilight reassured her before heading for the exit. Once outside, she checked how her nose was; once she confirmed that the bleeding had stopped, the whipped out her phone and scoured her contact list. It was a longshot of a plan, but she figured it was her best chance at getting to the truth. She found the number she was looking for and hit the call button.

After a couple of rings, a familiar voice answered. “Good morning, Principal Cadance speaking.”

“Hi, Cadance, it’s Twilight.”

“Twilight! It’s so good to hear from you, but what are you doing calling at this hour? Shouldn’t you be in class right now?”

“I know, and normally I wouldn’t call you while you’re still at work, but it’s an emergency,” Twilight explained. Farther out from the school, she looked about for any sign of Tempest, but it appeared that the wayward teen was an elusive one. “There’s something I need to ask: do you remember a student by the name of Fizzlepop Berrytwist?”

A pregnant silence followed.

“Cadance?”

“Sorry. It’s just… I haven’t heard that name in quite a while.” There was a heaviness to the principal’s tone, one that only gave Twilight more cause for concern.

“Did you know Fizzlepop very well?”

There was a wistful sigh at first, before Cadance answered in full. “To be honest, not really: Fizzlepop was an excellent student, so I really only knew her through her mother, who was a regular volunteer at after-school activities.”

It made sense: Cadance couldn’t have the same kind of relationship she had with Twilight with every student at Crystal Prep. However, if anybody would have a better idea about what happened to Fizzlepop, it would be her.

“Listen, Fizzlepop is in trouble,” Twilight pleaded, “and I’m trying to help her but… I need to know what happened to her.”

“I don’t know all the details,” Cadance explained, although the reluctance of her tone suggested she knew enough. “How much do you already know?”

“Just that she was badly hurt and she lost her parents in a car accident.”

“No, that’s not right. Only she and her mother were in the car; her father was still at work.”

For a moment, Twilight tried to recall back to what exactly Tempest had said: she remembered her friend saying she lost everyone in the accident. Did Twilight just presume too much?

“A-are you sure?”

“I remember talking to him at the funeral,” Cadance said, the certainty in her voice leaving no room for doubt. “He was very distraught. I felt awful for him: to lose so much all of a sudden. He was a gentle soul to begin with, and I tried to keep in touch but I think the trauma was too much for him to bear. I lost track of him soon after the accident.”

The news only left Twilight with more questions, though the first one slipped out without her even thinking. “Where is he now?”

The next few words came in soft, but slow, and yet they hit her mind like a thousand sharp rocks that left her momentarily numb, and a hand clasped over her mouth as if all her breath would be stolen away.

“Oh my god…”

Chapter 6

“Quiet! You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Like hell I will! I’m not some damn housecat you can just toss into another room when I get too inconvenient!”

“Just leave me alone.”

“I’m not going away! Whether you like it or not, I’m still here. You need to grow up, and take responsibility for once in your damn life!”

“…what’s the point…”

“Because I’m your daughter, dammit!”

Tempest Shadow checked her watch for the hundredth time, but despite her persistence, the clock refused to move more than a few minutes since the last time she checked. Growing impatient, she looked over to her business partner, Grubber, who sat on her couch. The short, rotund man was still humming and hawing as he counted up each pill in the plastic bag. The two had gathered at Tempest’s apartment, though her visible annoyance hid what gratitude she felt about him coming over on such short notice.

“Must you hum so loud?” Tempest remarked, followed by a low, audible growl. “You sound like a high voltage tower when you do that.” She folded her arms across her chest to try and keep calm, but her tapping foot betrayed her sense of urgency and anxiety.

For his part, Grubber just ignored the hostility in her words and kept counting. “Listen, if you want a fair price for this, I need to make sure exactly how many I’ve got,” he explained. “Though I have to warn you, I don’t really handle drugs that much. I don’t like the stuff.”

“Didn’t picture you for a puritan.”

Grubber just rolled his eyes. “Don’t get any funny ideas, Tempest. I’m in this business for an easy buck, and drugs ain’t ever easy: they attract the worst kind of cops and competition, both of which tend to be hazardous to my health. And that ain’t including what might happen if King catches me with this stuff.” Once he had finished and was satisfied with the count, he set the bag down on the coffee table and slid it back over towards Tempest. “How much did you say you wanted for it?”

“Five hundred should suffice.”

Unfortunately, the initial reaction was exactly what she expected, as Grubber went wide-eyed like she had just pulled out a badge and gun. “Five hundred? That’s practically the street value! You know I am in this business to make money, right? I can’t do that if I’m buying stuff from you at the same price as the people I supply sell it at.”

“I know, but I need the money so I can get King off my back!” Tempest snapped.

She was taking a risk openly declaring her defiance of King, but she was running out of options. At the very least, she knew that Grubber was more of an independent fencer who didn’t offer any loyalties one way or the other. The only problem was, if he only cared about money, then Tempest had her work cut out for her if she wanted to convince him to part with a large sum of it. Now she could’ve been a bit more forceful, even threatening, but she knew if she broke away from King, she’d have a very short list of people who’d be willing to deal with her. She wanted to preserve what ‘friends’ she had.

And maybe—just maybe—she was getting tired of the violence.

“Please, Grubber,” she pleaded her case once again, her voice losing all hints of hostility and irritation. “You know King isn’t the sort you can just say no to. If I can at least convince him that I did the job, then at least he won’t get angry and do something reckless.” She hated the idea of begging for charity, but what choice did she have? Her gaze drifted to the ground as her shoulders slumped under the weight of her conscience. “H-how about an advance then? I can pay you back later—maybe run some jobs for you as freebies, or I could pay you back in… other ways.”

Before she could say anything further, Grubber held up his chubby little fingers. “Why are you doing this, Tempest?” he asked. “Throwing yourself at me like some kinda two-bit junkie? That ain’t like you.”

It wasn’t, and Tempest knew it, but she found herself unable or unwilling to admit to that. She stayed silent, and stewed in her ever-growing desperation.

“It’s about that girl, ain’t it?”

“Wh—you know?” Tempest blurted out. “H-how?”

“Come on, Tempest, it’s a small world out here,” Grubber explained as he let out a playful chuckle. “A cute, well-dressed gal comin’ in and out of your apartment is gonna be noticed, and people are gonna talk.”

“When you phrase it like that, you make it sound like some cheesy romance novel.” Tempest had to turn away for a moment as she felt a faint heat rising to her face.

“But it’s true, though, ain’t it? You going to high school and all that.”

Tempest nodded. “This is going to sound dumb, but… being with Twilight reminded me of something I’d forgotten.” She paused and sighed, longingly and with a slight curl at the corner of her lip. “I remembered what it was like to have a dream.”

She expected an uproar of laughter, but instead Grubber just followed up the remark with something less obvious. “And what dream is that?”

“To be me again,” she answered, though her brief moment of hope soon turned into lamentations. “Not that it matters, though; that dream’s dead now. They’ll never let me back in Canterlot High after today.”

There was a tense, prolonged silence in the apartment. Tempest waited for some sort of reaction, though she couldn’t bring herself to even look at Grubber just in case his expression gave the answer she was afraid of. Even she thought she sounded a bit foolish, and the Tempest from only a few weeks back would have had a laughing fit from hearing such wide-eyed naivety.

What she heard instead was, “Okay, here’s your five hundred.”

Tempest spun about, unable to hide her surprise when she saw the small stack of bills that now sat on her coffee table.

“And don’t worry about paying me back until you can afford to,” Grubber added.

She stared in disbelief at both Grubber and the money, and she took a cautious, furtive step towards the table, as if expecting everything to vanish if she were noticed. “Are… are you really just giving this to me? But why?”

“What can I say? I’m a bit of a softie,” Grubber said as he offered a half-hearted shrug. “Plus, I remember when I was younger and had a chance to get out of this life. But I was dumb and greedy, so now I’m kinda stuck here. Just promise me you won’t give up. You’re still young: there’s still hope for you getting out.”

Tempest thought an answer would give her more clarity, but Grubber’s words just left her even more speechless than before. A part of her was still in disbelief, as though the world and everything in it would disappear in a heartbeat and she would find herself alone in bed. It was all real, even as she stepped up to her long-time associate; but rather than take the money, she reached out and hugged the man.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Grubber returned the gesture in kind, patting her on the back as he chortled under his breath. “This is nice,” he cooed. “So much better than you threatening to break my jaw.”

Being reminded of her how she’d treated him in the past didn’t help Tempest’s guilt, but she figured he wasn’t bringing that up to be critical or to put her down. It didn’t even sound like he took any of her past threats personally.

“Is it too late to apologize for everything I’ve said?”

“Toss in some of that lasagna on the counter over there, and you’ve got a deal.”

Tempest fell into a much needed bout of cathartic laughter. It felt as though her stress spilled out and evaporated with every chuckle, until she finally felt at ease for the first time that day. She knew this wouldn’t fix all of her problems, but if she gave King the money and lied about getting found out, then at least she could protect Twilight. Before she could ruminate further on her fate, a knocking came from the apartment door.

“It couldn’t be,” she muttered under her breath as she went to see who it was. Her instincts have an inclination, but she had trouble believing it. Her gut proved to be right, though, as she opened the door and she found herself staring face-to-face with Twilight Sparkle. All of the leveity she felt became a tight knot in her chest: she wasn’t ready yet to face her friend again, but that was about to be unavoidable. “A-aren’t you supposed to be at school?” she stammered.

“I should be asking you the same,” Twilight shot back. “May I come in?”

“Right, uh… come in,” Tempest said as she stepped aside.

After stashing away the bag of drugs, and a sizeable helping of the lasagna, Grubber headed for the exit. “I’ll leave you two to talk,” he said with a quick nod good-bye.

Shutting the door, Tempest watched in silence as her friend meandered through the apartment. Why did this girl have to be so damn persistent? Why couldn’t she just leave? Despite the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, Tempest knew what she had to do: she couldn’t stay a part of Twilight’s life without endangering her. It would only be a matter of time before King used her as some form of leverage.

“You shouldn’t be here, Twilight.”

“Not until you tell me the truth,” Twilight declared. Despite folding her arms and taking a defensive posture, her eyes still betrayed her concern towards her friend. “Sunset told me that you were sent to sell drugs. That’s not true, right?”

“I’m afraid it’s just as she said,” Tempest answered. It wasn’t quite the truth, but lies were more convenient to her cause. Wanting to keep her distance, she wandered over to the kitchenette and leaned against a counter. “High school kids have lots of money and little sense, after all.”

Twilight’s expression began to waiver as a sense of betrayal and confusion sank in. “But… but why would you agree to that? Y-you’re better than this.”

“No, I’m not!” Tempest accentuated her words by slamming her fist on the counter, which made her friend jump back an inch. “Open up your eyes and look around you, Twilight. This is my world, not yours. People like me… we prey upon idiots like you.”

Twilight fell silent for a moment. Disbelief continued to swirl inside her as she tried to make sense as to why her friend would suddenly discard everything from the past several days and regress back to the cold and isolated teenager she met in the alley. She couldn’t let Tempest win, however; she wouldn’t abandon her friend, no matter the cost.

Taking a breath to calm her thoughts and renew her determination, Twilight took a defiant step towards her friend. From her straight, rigid posture to the furrowed, focused look on her face, she wanted her friend to know that she was prepared to make her stand here and now.

“I don’t believe you,” Twilight declared.

“Well I don’t give a shit what you believe: this is who I am,” Tempest growled back. “Go back to your school where you belong.”

“Not without you! You belong at Canterlot High just as much as I do.”

“Like hell I do. I’ve seen what your friends think of me, so I can venture a guess what the rest of the school’s opinion is.”

“T-they just need a little time to adjust. I’m sure they never intended to—”

“Fuck intentions!” Tempest snarled. Her stoicism began to fall to the wayside as a new ire began to spark inside her. “Do you think I care about those? I’m sure they didn’t intend to remind me about the things I hate about myself just as much as I’m sure that asshole didn’t intend to get drunk and swerve into oncoming traffic and put me into hospital for four months!” She turned away as she didn’t want to lose control of her temper. A little bit of rage could push her friend away, but too much and she was liable to do something she’d regret later. “Intentions don’t change the results. People make their choices: to hurt others, to ruin their lives, to profit from their suffering. Stop making excuses for them!”

Twilight didn’t flinch despite her friend’s fury, and the more Tempest lashed out, the more pity she felt for her. “Because life’s not simple like that,” she replied. “Intentions are important: it’s what separate people like King from your father.”

The brief flinch of tension didn’t escape Twilight’s notice, though she knew she was making a calculated risk bringing the subject up. She mentally braced herself just to be on the safe side, and kept an eye on the apartment door in case she needed to make a quick escape.

“Don’t ever mention my father,” Tempest warned, punctuating every word with an angered inflection.

“Why not? It was important enough for you to lie about him being in the accident.”

“Don’t act like you understand, Twilight!” Tempest snapped as she spun about. “He doesn’t deserve to be remembered, and he sure as hell doesn’t deserve you defending him!”

“Then help me understand: tell me what happened.”

“He broke!” As the words flew from her lips, they carried with them more hate and contempt than Twilight had ever heard from her before. “Not everybody becomes strong and brave after a tragedy; sometimes they become sniveling worms who lock themselves away and hide in their bottles!” Beneath all the hate, however, there was something else: something that bubbled in the swirling cauldron of emotions inside the teen. “I was a child with two broken legs and one hand: I needed him, and he abandoned me.”

“He was hurting, too. What he did was wrong, but you need to forgive him.”

“Why should I? He’s done nothing to deserve it!”

Twilight pressed her assault, even as the other girl became more enraged. “Because you’re suffering just like he did.”

“Shut up!” Tempest barked, pointing a finger back at her friend. “You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“You’re hurting, but you’re hiding from it, just as he did!”

“Fuck you!”

As her rage boiled over, Tempest reached for the nearest thing at hand, her old Crystal Prep Academy mug, and hurled it at Twilight with a furious cry. Thankfully, quick thinking meant the cup just sailed over a crouching teen’s head and smashed into pieces against the far wall. That wasn’t the end of the tirade, either, as Tempest rushed over and grabbed the offending teen by the collar.

“I’m stronger than he ever was. When things got tough, I got tougher!” she continued shouting into her friend’s face. There was a hint of desperation in her voice though, like a growing crack in the foundation. “I’m nothing like him! Nothing! Don’t you compare me to him! He threw away his job to drink, we threw away all our money to drink, he threw me away to drink, and then… and then he… he…”

Canterlot

Two years ago

The front door slammed open, accompanied by the rumbling of the torrential rainfall outside and the quiet grumblings of a young Fizzlepop as she hobbled into the relative shelter of her home. She balanced herself on the crutch under her good arm as she wiggled out of her rain boots and kicked them to the side. After wringing some of the excess water from her hair, she limped her way through the hallways of her dimly-lit home until she reached the living room.

She stopped in the doorway, a tired and contemptful look on her face as she regarded the semi-conscious form of the man sprawled across the couch. Judging by how he was surrounded by an assortment of empty bottles and cans, and how he was still wearing the same clothes he fell asleep in the night before, Fizzlepop safely assumed he hadn’t moved much since she last saw him.

Clearing her throat loudly, the man was startled awake with a groggy murmuring. He only lifted his head a little, turning his gaze towards the young teen as he scratched at the ill-kept scruff across his face.

“Wh—oh, it’s just you,” he mumbled, almost sounding disheartened by the fact.

“It’s Tuesday, Dad,” Fizzlepop commented. “You know what that means, right?”

All she got was a blank, confused stare in response.

“My physio was today: you said you were going to pick me up afterwards.”

“Wh—oh! Oh, right. Sorry, I, uh, lost track of time.” With a weary groan, the man pulled himself up so he was sitting now, though he looked no more ready to get up than he had a second ago. “Well, looks like you got back fine on your own, at least.”

“After waiting for two hours and begging the nursing staff for bus fare,” Fizzlepop snapped back. “I had to walk three blocks from the bus stop on this damn crutch, which I wouldn’t have had to use if somebody hadn’t pawned off my wheelchair.”

Her father slumped back against the couch as he waved off her complaints. “You barely used that thing anymore. Besides, you hated it,” he scoffed. When he glanced up again at his irate child, he noticed that Fizzlepop was sporting some new bandages on her elbows and forehead. “W-what happened to you, Fizzle?”

The girl looked away, a shame-filled scowl on her expression. “I tried to take the stairs and… I fell…”

“Are you nuts? You know you’re not ready for that,” her father exclaimed. After a prolonged sigh, as if being tasked with a menial chore, he rose to his feet. “Just—come on, we need to get you cleaned up.”

“Don’t touch me!” Fizzlepop snapped when he drew too close. “I can take care of this myself.” She tried to hobble away towards her bedroom, but she was taken hold of by the arm before she could get far.

“Don’t take that tone with me, missy,” the man warned. “Whether you like it or not, I’m still your father.”

With a disgruntled snort, Fizzlepop pulled her arm away. “You’re not fooling anybody by trying to pretend to be a parent when it suits you. There’s only one adult in this household, and it certainly ain’t you.”

Her father’s face contorted in anger, and he raised his hand as if about to strike, but stopped himself and just waved a disparaging finger at her. “You’re angry and you’re not thinking straight. Now go to your room.”

“Yeah, I’m the one not thinking straight,” Fizzlepop scoffed with a roll of her eyes. “I should totally be taking advice from the man who wastes his days sulking on the couch while throwing back another bottle of—” She stopped to sniff the air. “—guess it’s a whiskey day.”

“Quiet! You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Like hell I will!” Fizzlepop spat. Deciding that she wasn’t as finished with the conversation as she had once thought, she adjusted her crutches so she could face her father again. “I’m not some damn housecat you can just toss into another room when I get too inconvenient!”

However, while she was willing to throw down the gauntlet then and there, her opposition clearly decided that it was too much work to bother with. Her father just shuffled back towards the couch and collapsed into a heap just as he had been when Fizzle entered.

“Just leave me alone,” he groaned.

“I’m not going away!” Fizzlepop said as she hobbled a few steps after him. “Whether you like it or not, I’m still here. You need to grow up, and take responsibility for once in your damn life!”

His only response was a murmured, “…what’s the point…”

“Because I’m your daughter, dammit!” Reaching the limits of her frustration, Fizzlepop loosed one last outburst. “Stupid old man! I wish you had been in the car instead! Nobody would’ve given a shit if you had died!”

With that, she stormed off with as much speed and grace as one could while limping on crutches. She retreated to her bedroom, where at least she would have the sanctuary offered by the solitude. With a tired groan, she collapsed at a small desk tucked into the corner of the room. Despite how long of a day it had been, she still had to finish her assignments for her homeschooling, though it was less ‘schooling’ and more self-taught, which was fine by her. Most of the subjects were easy enough for her to understand on her own. Pulling out her books, she opened up to a fresh page and started on some math questions. At least school work was reliable: it wouldn’t pull any sudden surprises or leave her stranded outside a hospital in the middle of a rainstorm.

As the evening drew darker, Fizzlepop was still engrossed in her work, albeit having grown increasingly tired. Her chin rested in her hand, a pen still wedged between her fingers that twitched with every weary fidget and silent mouthing of the next passage.

The tranquility of the silence was suddenly shattered by the loud, piercing crack of a gunshot that echoed from elsewhere in the house.

Her pen fell from her grasp as Fizzlepop turned in the direction of the noise, a slow, sinking sense of dread beginning to form on her face.

“...Dad?”

There was a painful silence in the apartment as Twilight absorbed what her friend revealed, her mind putting together the pieces of the puzzle that was Tempest Shadow. As for the once-raging teenager, recounting the last moments she had with her father appeared to have sapped whatever anger she had been feeling. Her hate had burnt away, and left only bitter ashes behind. Tears had formed in the corners of her eyes, and she was trembling, as if trying to keep the last vestiges of her sanity together.

“I… I didn’t mean to…I just…” she mumbled. Though she had clung to Twilight earlier in anger, she now held onto her as if for support, leaning forward until her head rested against her friend’s chest. After another bout of silent rumination, Tempest let out a whimper, “Twilight?”

“Yes?”

“I think I’m broken.”

Twilight drew her arms around her friend, and pulled her into a gentle embrace. “That’s okay,” she whispered back. “Being strong doesn’t mean you have to be unbreakable. Honestly, I think being unbreakable would be kind of sad. If nothing can ever hurt you, then does anything really matter to you?”

Slowly, Tempest steadied herself and backed away, standing fully upright again, though still visibly shaken. Twilight’s gaze met with her friend’s, and for the first time she was perhaps able to see the truest expression the teenager has worn since they met in the alley. No bravado, no forced confidence, no contemptful gaze; just a girl, lost and broken by a world that had all but forgotten about her. Even if no words were spoken, she could see the cries for help in her friend’s tear-filled, turquoise eyes.

No more lies.

No more hiding.

“Please, Twilight, I don’t want to be like this anymore,” she pleaded as her grasp tightened on the other girl’s shoulder. “I’m… I’m not strong enough.”

“Then I’ll help you,” Twilight reassured her. Taking her hand, Twilight guided her friend back to the couch and gestured for her to take a seat, following in kind afterwards. “Would you be willing to come back to school with me?”

As much as she wanted to give an enthusiastic yes, Tempest fell silent again under the weight of her lingering shame. “But… I hit you, and I got caught with the drugs. Who’d accept me back after that?”

“They will,” Twilight said while giving the other teen a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “It’s a pretty forgiving school. You’d be surprised by some of the things that Sunset and I have done there.”

“Such as?”

“Well, I once got overwhelmed by magic powers I couldn’t control and blew up the statue out in front of the school.”

She was right about one thing: Tempest was surprised. There was a brief lull in the tension as the emotionally-drained teenager just stared wide-eyed at her friend, as if waiting for the punchline to drop. Any other person telling her such a tale would’ve been dismissed outright, but if Twilight was going to lie to her, she would’ve told something a bit more realistic.

Eventually, after mulling her words over again, Tempest answered with a subtle nod. “Okay, I’ll give Canterlot High another try, but on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“No gym class.”

Twilight nodded in agreement. “We’ll need to switch it for something else, though. Are there any other subjects you’d be interested in taking? Statistics? English Literature? World History?”

“Well…” Tempest trailed off for a spell with a sheepish aversion in her gaze. “I was thinking maybe an art class?”

Now it was Twilight’s turn to experience surprise. She almost felt a little embarrassed than she hadn’t event considered an art course. It was, arguably, her worst subject, and nothing about her friend suggested an eye for artistry. And judging by how self-conscious Tempest looked when making the suggestion, there probably weren’t many people who knew of this interest.

“If I had known you were interested in that, I would’ve suggested it from the start,” Twilight admitted. “Why didn’t you mention it?”

Tempest continued averting her eyes as she offered a half-hearted shrug as an initial explanation. “People don’t usually associate toughness with being artsy-fartsy. Besides, I didn’t exactly think I’d be around long enough for it to really matter.” When she finally managed to work up the nerve to face Twilight again, she noticed her friend still looked a little puzzled by the revelation. “It was suggested to me as part of my physiotherapy. You know, to help me adjust to using my left hand for everything.”

“Do you still have any of your work? I’m a little curious to see it.”

Even though Tempest knew she should’ve seen the request coming, her expression still tightened up under a wave of instant regret, as if an album of her baby pictures had just been uncovered.

Through a forced smile, however, all she could muster was a wary, “Sure. I… uh, think I have them stuffed in a box around here.”

“May I…?” Twilight gestured towards the nearest stack of boxes, waiting for permission, and once she got it, she couldn’t help but let out an excited little squeak.

So great was her curiosity, she used her magic to scour through the contents of the apartment, which resulted in a parade of Tempest’s belongings floating through the air. After sorting through a box of old magazines, she was finally able to uncover one labelled ‘physio’, which contained several sketchbooks, and an assortment of old paints and charcoals. She grabbed the first book in the pile, but before she could turn the first page, it was snatched from her grasp.

“Not that one!” Tempest insisted. “The ones in this book are awful. Like, total garbage.”

“There’s no need to be embarrassed about that,” Twilight replied. “Come on, let me see! I promise I won’t laugh.”

Faced with pleading eyes and an already guilty conscience, Tempest soon acquiesced and shoved the book back into her friend’s grasp. “Just… I warned you, okay?”

Ignoring the remark, Twilight began to flip through the pages. Inside was page after page of simple pencil and charcoal sketches, and while it was true that most of the early pieces were so crude that somebody could’ve mistaken the artist for a recovering alcoholic, every few pages saw a steady progression in technique. By about half way through the back, what were once oblong or slanted were now clean circles and sharp edges. Most of the pieces were of people and places, likely seen as a casual observer. She even recognized a few of the buildings featured, including the local hospital and Crystal Prep Academy.

“These are beautiful,” Twilight remarked. “I thought you said you had bad handwriting.”

“I do! Look at that signature.” Tempest pointed to the series of disfigured swirls and loops in the corner of the page, which looked more like the output of a seismograph during an earthquake than a name. “When I try to write, it’s like my brain is trying to translate it from right-hand to left-hand. With drawing though, I never really learned how to before the accident, so learning it was all new to me. There were no… crossed-wires, if that makes any sense.”

Though she lacked any relevant experience, Twilight nonetheless nodded in agreement. “Either way, I can tell you’ve really put a lot of heart into this,” she said. As she finished the first notebook, she reached for a second, only to be interrupted when Tempest grabbed her by the wrist.

“Um, maybe not that one,” she cautioned. “That one has… life models.”

“So? I know I’m a little sheltered compared to you, but I can handle nudity in art.”

“I was sixteen, and I had just spent several months in a hospital with no privacy. Use your imagination.”

“Oh. Oooooohhhh.”

Chapter 7

“I know I’m just your physiotherapist, but promise me that you’ll keep working at this, even after we finish. I know things can seem bad now, that they’ll never improve. But if you just keep pressing forward, one step after the next, one day you’ll be able to look back… and you’ll be glad you survived.”

It was just after lunch by the time that Twilight and Tempest returned to Canterlot High, which at the very least meant they were able to avoid any crowds or drawing too much attention. To the casual observer, Tempest’s stride conveyed her usual sense of confidence and poise, but internally she was still feeling anything but that. However, every time she felt her willpower start to waiver, she looked over to her friend beside her, and Twilight’s optimistic smile was enough to reassure her.

Just a few steps ahead of them was Principal Celestia, with whom the girls had spent the past several minutes explaining the extenuating circumstances surrounding what happened that morning. Twilight handled most of the actual explaining, if only because Tempest had little idea of how to handle things diplomatically beyond falling to one’s knees and groveling for mercy.

“I still can’t believe you’re willing to be so… accommodating,” Tempest said as the trio walked through the school hallways. “Principal Cinch would’ve tossed my as—I mean, butt to the curb in a heartbeat.”

“The former Principal Cinch and I have somewhat different views on troubled students. Where she might see somebody deserving of an expulsion, I prefer to see a student who needs help the most,” Celestia explained with a compassion and sincerity in her tone that Tempest knew she never would’ve seen at her old school. “And while I don’t wish to sound disrespectful, it is… refreshing to be able to help with something that doesn’t involve otherworldly magic trying to take over my school.”

The casualness with which the principal spoke caught Tempest by surprise. “How often has that happened?”

“O-only three times… so far,” a suddenly self-conscious Twilight insisted. Only when she said it out loud did she realize that it probably sounded a lot worse to an outsider.

Celestia gave a casual smirk. “Four, if you count Camp Everfree.”

“She wasn’t trying to take over the school, though.”

“It was still a school event,” the Principal insisted. “And that’s not even taking into account other incidents like what happened at the mall.”

“How’d you find out about that?”

“Because the next day Rainbow Dash said she couldn’t hand in her math homework as she had lost it when she got ‘sucked into an extra-dimensional space.’”

“We were in there for, like, twenty minutes!”

As the discussion continued on about what was a valid magical threat to the world, Tempest couldn’t help but think that she might’ve been safer with the sociopathic drug dealer instead. Perhaps Canterlot High wasn’t the ideal place for a ‘normal’ high school life, especially when she thought she heard something about exploding cupcakes. However, if Twilight could survive these magical mishaps, then Tempest should be tough enough to handle it.

Plus, exploding cupcakes did sound pretty cool. Before she could consider the possible applications for such baked goods, the trio arrived at their destination: the school’s art room. Tempest and Twilight waited off to the side while their principal knocked on the door and conversed briefly with the teacher. A few moments later, after the teacher disappeared back into the classroom, a new but familiar face arrived in the form of Sunset Shimmer.

“Hello Principal Celestia, Twilight,” she greeted, although she paused for a brief moment when she noticed who else was present. “...Tempest.”

With some gentle encouragement, and a firm shove when that didn’t work, Tempest was ushered forward to speak. Despite knowing full well what she needed to say, it didn’t make swallowing her pride any easier.

“I’m sorry about this morning, Sunset,” Tempest said after a pronounced pause. “I know that feels a little paltry considering what happened, and there’s way too much to explain in a few minutes. When you found the drugs, I panicked, and I just lashed out because that’s all I really know.” She let out a heavy sigh as the weight of her shame made the words tumble out. “You were right, though; my life is just a broken mess, and so am I. While I can’t promise I can change overnight, I want you know that I don’t want to be that kind of person anymore… but I can’t do that on my own.”

“Tempest is going to be joining your art class,” Twilight chimed in, lending her own support to her troubled friend. “Since I won’t be there, I was hoping that you could help look after her.”

As Sunset’s gaze bounced between the two smiling girls before her, one hopeful and the other awkward but apologetic, she didn’t need more than a moment to reach her decision.

“Of course I’ll help.”

Having clearly never heard of the expression about staring at gift horses in the mouth, Tempest just blurted out, “Does everyone in this school just forgive people without a second thought?”

Sunset let out a knowing chuckle, but reassured her classmate, “It’s something we’ve had a lot of experience with here.”

“So… that’s really it?” Tempest asked, though her voice was still tinted by doubt. “You and I… we’re cool? Just like that?”

“Yeah, we’re cool,” Sunset said before looking to her other friend. “I trust Twilight, and maybe if I had trusted her as much as I should’ve, I wouldn’t have been so hasty to jump to conclusions.”

“The important part is you’ve both learned from your mistakes,” Twilight replied. “Now you two have fun, and I’ll see you both next period.”

After everyone exchanged good-byes, Sunset and Tempest headed into the classroom. Inside, the students were all working on their own projects, many of which involved paints, clays, or pencils. No sooner did the pair enter did every head turn in their direction, and a tense silence flash-froze the entire class.

“It’s okay,” Sunset called out to them. “Everything’s cool: we’re all friends now!” She emphasized the last part by throwing an arm around Tempest’s shoulder, which appeared to placate the concerns of their classmates, who all promptly returned to their work.

“You people are almost nauseatingly nice, you know that?”

Sunset just laughed off the remark as she patted her newly-minted friend on the shoulder. “And now you’re one of us.”

She led Tempest over to where she had been working, which was at an easel positioned near a window that overlooked the schoolyard out back. Along the way, she grabbed an unused chair and set it down for her new classmate.

“So… how exactly does this class work?” Tempest asked, having noticed that the teacher seemed to be simply watching over the students.

“Right now, we’ve just started on a new independent study module,” Sunset explained while she grabbed a nearby paint-speckled apron and put it on. “Everybody’s to pick a particular art style or medium, write a short essay about it, and create a piece using it. There’s a few books on the shelves if you want to start looking for ideas, and there’s plenty of supplies in the cabinets for you to get started.”

Rather than heed the suggestion, Tempest took a seat and looked to the easel, upon which was Sunset’s project-in-progress. It was clearly still early on, but she could make out what looked to be a young woman standing before the sunrise, arms outstretched, and enveloped in fiery orange glow. She watched in silence as Sunset resumed her work with gentle but precise brushstrokes.

“So what’s your project on? It’s… really nice.”

“Eighteenth century Romanticism,” Sunset answered. “And thanks. I’ve still got a lot of work ahead of me, but I’m liking how it’s coming out so far.”

“What’s it about?”

“If you’ll recall, I mentioned I used to be a pretty bad place, too. I thought ambition and power was all I needed to get by in life, and I didn’t care who I had to trample over to get what I wanted.” Despite the gravity of the subject, Sunset didn’t stop her work; if anything, recalling the worst moments of her life seemed to hasten her pace, as if clarifying her vision and imagination. “I had built myself a fortress, but it wasn’t until I had lost it all that I realized it was all made of glass. It was painful to deal with for a while, but in the end, it was probably the best thing to happen to me.”

“And so it feels like a new day has risen in your life,” Tempest finished off the train of thought.

Sunset giggled quietly under her breath before she started to dab some orange onto the canvas. “I guess I’m not very good at being subtle with my symbolism, am I?”

“It doesn’t need to be subtle, just so long as it feels authentic.”

Glancing back to her classmate, Sunset noticed that Tempest had done nothing but sit and watch. “Is everything okay?”

“Sorry, I’m just…” Tempest fell silent for a second as she looked about the classroom. “I guess I’m just a little lost. For me, this had always been just therapy, and I would draw or paint or sketch whatever I could see at the time: the view from my bedroom window, the hospital from the bus stop across the street, the market while I ate lunch.” She fidgeted in her seat the entire time she spoke, as though the discomfort in her words became a literal pebble in her shoe. “I thought this class would be a bit more ‘paint this bowl of fruit’.”

“You could paint a bowl of fruit, if you’d like.”

“Heh, I think that’d be a bit too plain, honestly.” She smiled and chortled for a moment, but then her expression faded. “Hard to paint what you feel when you’re not sure what you’re feeling either.”

It didn’t take long for an idea to pop into Sunset’s head. “We just need to find you some inspiration,” she announced before setting her paintbrush down. She gestured for her friend to follow as she led her over to a display case that ran along the back wall of the classroom. Inside were a plethora of paintings, sculptures, and other pieces of artwork, all of which had tags with names and dates.

“The teacher likes to keep the best pieces from each year,” Sunset explained as her eyes scanned back and forth across the display. “Now where is it? It’s around here somewh—aha!” Nestled between a metal sculpture of a bird and a painting of a soup can, was a small ceramic cup, not much larger than Sunset’s palm. “This little piece helped me out when I had to turn my life around.”

“I never really worked with ceramics before,” Tempest replied.

“Take a closer look,” Sunset suggested, handing the cup over.

Though it seemed like a foolish idea, Tempest nonetheless put the item under a closer scrutiny, peering at it closely as it balanced upon her fingertips. The humble ashen gray cup would’ve been considered rather plain if not for the web-like pattern of gold streaks that covered its surface. There didn’t seem to be any pattern or reason behind it, but the stark contrast between the dull ceramics and gold accents captured her attention.

“Okay, it’s a very nice-looking cup, but I don’t get it,” Tempest finally acquiesced to her ignorance.

“That cup used to belong to a previous art teacher: it was his favourite, too. Every day he’d be sipping his morning tea from it, until one day a student accidentally knocked it from his desk and it broke. The teacher was saddened by the loss, but just as he was about to throw the pieces away, the student offered to fix it for him. This was the end result, and the teacher continued using it until he retired, after which he left the cup behind for the display.”

“So… it’s a broken cup?”

Sunset couldn’t help but smile and stifle a laugh at her friend’s rather blunt assessment. “It’s a technique called kintsugi; it means to ‘repair with gold.’ It helps teach us to accept life and all of its imperfections; that time and life invariably damages us all. But those scars are a part of our story, and if we choose to embrace them rather than hide, we can become more beautiful because we were broken.”

Her first instinct was to toss such remarks into the proverbial trash: that such childish nonsense had no bearing on a the real world. However, that was her old way of thinking, and the reality check from that morning made it obvious that she needed to change. Maybe things could be that simple. The things she had scoffed at as being only suitable for fairy tail movies and cartoon posters—friendship, compassion, second chances—they appeared to have worked wonders for the students at Canterlot High. If they made it work, why couldn’t she?

After staring at the cup for what seemed like an inordinate amount of time, Tempest finally looked back to Sunset, whose expression was caught between hope and anxiety. The scarred girl’s stoic and scrutinizing gaze was almost impossible to read, as if she were just as liable to punch Sunset right then and there.

“Just to be clear: I’m the teacup in this metaphor, right?”

Relief washed over Sunset, though she hid it behind a restrained giggle. “I told you, I’m not very good at being subtle.”

“Yeah,” Tempest nodded in agreement, though her voice carried with it a sense of solace, “but it still feels real.”

“Kintsugi, huh? It’s not like I’ve got anything to lose by trying…”

“Good afternoon, Ms. Shadow.”

Principal Celestia’s voice caught the student by surprise, and the resultant flinch almost caused her to drop the sketch pad that had been balancing on her stump. It was the end of another day of classes at Canterlot High, and while students took the opportunity to hurry home or meet up with friends, Tempest instead sat on the front steps of the school with her sketch pad on one arm and a charcoal pencil in the other.

“Ah, Principal Celestia… I, uh… didn’t see you there,” Tempest apologized. “Is there something you need to talk to me about?”

“I just wanted to check and see how you were doing,” Celestia said. Rather than continue hovering over the student, the principal took a seat on the steps next to her. “You’ve been here for almost two weeks now, after all. I’ve heard you’ve made a lot of progress in that time, and I don’t mean just your clothing.”

It was hard for Tempest to hide the slight hint of embarrassment, particularly from one as perceptive as Celestia. Still, she tried her best to hide herself in her sketchbook. “Y-yeah, once Twilight introduced me to Rarity, I was apparently in ‘dire need’ of a wardrobe update.”

As much as her old self loathed the concept of charity, when the time came that Rarity heaped upon her new clothing that she just ‘had to try on,’ Tempest had found herself powerless to resist. At the very least, she argued internally, it would’ve been rude to her new friends to turn down such generosity. She also had to admit, her new slacks fit much better and were far more comfortable than the tattered old jeans she practically lived in twenty-four hours a day. It was odd how something as simple as a new set of pants and blouse could make one feel refreshed.

“Now Pinkie Pie wants to throw me a ‘two week-iversary’ party,” Tempest continued on. “Plus, I’ve been invited to a trip to the spa with Fluttershy, Rarity, and Applejack, and Rainbow Dash is offering to loan me one of her old bikes to go cycling with her—apparently that’ll be easier on my knees.”

A less astute observer might’ve misinterpreted her words as a complaint, but Celestia could see that the girl was smiling all the while. These were the kinds of problems a person her age was supposed to have.

“I can’t help but notice you seem to have a hand sticking out of your schoolbag,” Celestia observed with an amused smirk.

“Oh, that?” Tempest replied. She glanced over her shoulder to the bag that sat just behind her and, as expected, small plastic fingers could be seen poking out from a gap in the zipper. “That’s what I get for mentioning in passing that I was considering using a prosthetic again. Everyone started telling me to go for it and wouldn’t relent until I agreed to pull it outta the closet. Plus, Twilight’s insisted that she’ll do some research and build me an even better one. Said she would make me into her first cyborg.”

She laughed to herself as she recalled the look of excitement on her friend’s face when she relented to the insane request. It had been enough to make her wonder who was actually getting more out of that deal. It all sounded so silly, almost surreal. A part of her was still half-convinced she’d wake up in her bed and find her life back in the hole it used to be.

Before Tempest’s mind could wander down a shadowed, uncertain road, Celestia reached over and placed her hand upon the girl’s shoulder. “Your mother would be very proud of what you’ve accomplished here,” the principal whispered to her. “What you’ve done is no small feat.”

“Thank you, Principal Celestia. That really means a lot.”

“When we first spoke, I asked you what you hoped to find here at Canterlot High. Have you found what you were looking for?”

Before she could answer, she heard another voice call out her name, but this time it was Twilight. She saw her friend, burdened with an assortment of textbooks, hurrying towards her.

“Yeah, I think I’ve found it,” Tempest said. “If you’ll excuse me, Principal, I’ve got plans for the afternoon.”

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow, Ms. Shadow.”

As Principal Celestia bid her farewell, Tempest packed up her supplies, and rose to her feet just as her friend arrived.

“Sorry I’m a little late,” Twilight said before offering an apologetic grin. “Are you ready to go?”

“Lead the way,” Tempest replied as she gestured forward.

For her, it felt surreal to be excited and looking forward to an afternoon of homework and studying for an upcoming test, but this was the kind of simplicity she wanted in her life right now. No violence, no drama, no run-ins with the law: just her and her friends. Plus any time spent away from her sty of an apartment was well-spent as far as she was concerned.

“I take it Sunset will be joining us later?”

“After her shift at the Sushi Wagon,” Twilight explained as the pair walked further into town. “But she said she’d bring some leftovers for us.”

“Not sure if I’m up for that—raw fish just sounds… weird.”

“Trust me, it’s not as bad as it sounds.” Twilight’s reassurance didn’t have much impact if her friend’s eye-rolling was any indication, but the focus of her attention soon shifted to another matter. “Hey, you’re not wearing your arm.”

“It felt too distracting when I was working on my art project,” Tempest insisted.

“You’re not going to get used to it if you keep stuffing it into your bag.”

Being able to clearly see where the conversation was about to head, Tempest decided it would be easier in the long run just to relent to her friend’s request before she got bludgeoned by logic. Her friend was right and she was just letting her stubbornness get in the way. Before she could start to reconsider, she took the arm out of her backpack and fitted it into place.

“I swear, I feel like an oversized doll with this thing on,” she remarked.

“It looks good on you,” Twilight complimented. “And once I’ve built a new prosthetic for you, you’ll never want to take it off.”

Once again, Tempest was left wondering who was getting the better deal here. She couldn’t deny her friend’s confidence, and the idea of a cyborg arm sounded cool, but could Twilight pull off that kind of a project? It was almost hard to believe that this was the same girl that kept her head down when walking through the halls of Crystal Prep Academy.

The two friends continued on their journey, passing the time with idle conversation about their day at school. Twilight, in particular, wanted to hear more about what her friend was doing in art class, but Tempest kept insisting that it was ‘a surprise for later.’ It was one of the few things that all of the pleading in the world couldn’t get Tempest to budge on. After a while, though, all the easy conversation subjects had dried out, and a prolonged silence lingered between them. There had been one subject left on her mind, though it was something she had been reluctant to broach.

“Have you thought about what you’re going to do about King yet?” she asked with a hint of caution.

“Not really,” Tempest admitted with a grimace. “I’ve been ducking his messages for a few days now. I wish I had more insurance in case he doesn’t take the idea of me quitting very well.”

“Couldn’t you go to the police?”

“Need I remind you that my hands aren’t clean either,” Tempest gave voice to her concern. “I don’t trust the cops to play fair if they can get two criminals off the streets at the same time.”

It came as no surprise that Twilight didn’t accept such a fatalistic outlook: she and her friends had handled far worse than one thuggish misanthrope. It was unfortunate that she couldn’t solve this problem by blasting the source with a magic-infused friendship-laser. This was a ‘normal’ problem as opposed to a ‘magic’ one, and it needed a more mundane solution.

“Couldn’t you make an anonymous tip?” Twilight suggested in her usual persistent fashion. “Find a lawyer and make a deal? Gather incriminating evidence and leave it in an envelope at the police station?”

“Okay, okay… I’ll think it over,” Tempest quickly surrendered to her friend’s continuing demands. “You really are damn stubborn, you know that? Like an old woman.”

“I like to think of it as being precocious.”

Tempest just rolled her eyes as they both shared a quiet laugh. She had to admit that her friend had a point: her options were few and far between, and if she wanted to distance herself from her old life, then she had stay on the right side of the law. If she got caught in the middle of it, perhaps it would be worth it. Keeping her friend safe had to be her top priority.

“Listen, Twilight, say that I do go to the police,” a wary Tempest began, “and things don’t go exactly as we hoped they would. Like say I have to go to jail and stuff…”

Before she could finish, though, her friend had already deduced the question. “If you have to go away for a little while, I’ll be sure to visit you as much as I can, and I’ll be waiting at the gate for you when you get out.”

Hearing such a full-throated vouch of support shouldn’t have caught Tempest off-guard, and yet she still found herself looking away as to hide looking too embarrassed. “Geeze, if you keep talking like that, people might get the wrong idea about us.”

With her gaze averted so her friend couldn’t see the dopey grin she wore, Tempest’s attention was drawn to something else up ahead. Before her friend could make a retort about wrong ideas, she grabbed Twilight by the wrist and pulled her into the shelter of a nearby doorway.

“Tempest, what are you—”

“I think I just saw King!”

“What? Where?”

With her back pressed against the inside wall, Tempest leaned out just enough to peek around the corner. Soon, her fears were confirmed as she spotted the tall, leather-clad, scruffy misanthrope that she had spent the past several days avoiding. He was in an alley about half a block ahead of the girls and on the opposite side of the street: just far enough for the pair to be inconspicuous to the casual eye.

“Has he seen us?” Twilight asked as she peered around her friend’s shoulder.

“I don’t think so. It doesn’t look like he’s here for me,” Tempest murmured to herself. Judging by how King’s attention appeared to be fixated on something just out of sight within the alley, this run-in was entirely a coincidence. “If we double back, we can slip away before we’re seen.”

Twilight nodded in agreement, and the two were just about to leave when something else caught Tempest’s attention. Dragged into view by one of King’s henchmen was a familiar rotund, little man.

“Hey, isn’t that—”

“Shit,” Tempest cursed under her breath. “What does King want with Grubber?”

Judging by how he squirmed against the restraining arms of the much larger henchman, this was not a social visit. It wasn’t like Grubber to get on anybody’s bad side: the only way he’d ever have an aggressive bone in his body is if he ate it. Unfortunately, they were too far away for her to make out what was being said, but if she had to guess, King was upset about something and Grubber was trying to talk his way out of it.

And judging by how a second henchman suddenly clocked him in the face, he wasn’t making much headway with that strategy.

“What do you think is going on?” Twilight whispered.

“I… I don’t know,” Tempest replied. Whatever the reason, she felt torn about leaving. She couldn’t just leave Grubber to fend for himself, could she? Her curiosity didn’t last long, as she caught sight of King waving something in the other man’s face: a bag of drugs, by the looks of it. Though she couldn’t know for certain, there was little other explanation besides it being the drugs she gave to Grubber.

“What should we do? S-should we call the police?”

“By the time they get here, Grubber might already be face-down in the gutter.” She glanced to the friend beside her, and then to her friend trapped in the alleyway. In her heart, she knew what she had to do, but would it work? It was a long shot, but there was no other choice: she had to protect her friends. “Twilight, call the police. No matter what happens, you stay here. Understood?”

“Of cour—wait, stay here? What are you going to do?”

“I have to help him: it’s my fault he’s in that mess,” Tempest said before she headed off towards the alley. The rational part of her was screaming at her to just walk away, that this didn’t need her to get involved. It made every step more difficult than the last, but when was doing the right thing ever easy?

As she drew closer, she could make out King’s words, and they were just as she feared. “Listen you little garbage disposal on legs, you were caught selling this stuff—my stuff—red-handed,” he said as he waved the small bag of pills in Grubber’s face. “So you’re going to start explaining to me how you got your greedy little mitts on it, or my friends here are going to make sure that you’ll be enjoying your meals through a straw.”

“Come on, King, you know I wouldn’t do nothing like that,” Grubber replied. Naturally, it fell on deaf ears just as it did the past dozen times he proclaimed innocence. His words had ‘stalling’ and ‘desperation’ written all over them, but it was all that was left.

“I gave them to him!” Tempest shouted, announcing her presence as she stood at the mouth of the alleyway. “So if you got a problem with that, you can take it up with me.”

Silence enveloped the alley as the two sides stared one another down, though Tempest used the opportunity to assess how big of a mess she had just stepped into. It was more than just King, after all: he had three more of his goons with him, two of which had been just out of sight until she had stepped into view. That made it a potential four-on-one, which was about as fair to her as a crowbar was to a person’s kneecaps. Still, she had a few things going for her, not least of which was the reputation she commanded.

For his part, King just sneered back. “You know, I had a feeling it was you, Tempest, but I guess I just didn’t want to admit it,” he said with a hint of feigned disappointment. “Look at you now with your fancy clothes, and an adorable little schoolbag. You’ve even gone back to wearing an arm.”

“Let him go,” Tempest ordered.

“Always straight to the chase with you. Why can’t you just hang out for a little bit? We can make cookies and talk about boys. That’s what you do these days now, right?” Seeing his attempt at levity sail over the girl’s head like a fly-ball, King frowned with an audible growl. “What gives, Tempest? This isn’t like you, sticking your neck out for other people.”

“I’m not pushing your drugs onto my friends. I sold them to Grubber so I could give you the money before I tell you that I’m quitting.”

To her surprise, King just started laughing, a rich, throaty chuckle that reeked of malice. “You think I give a flying toss about these? I got a hundred people who’ll push these for me,” he said as he unceremoniously tossed the bag over his shoulder. “It’s about teaching you your place, but it looks like you were too busy studying arts and crafts.”

In hindsight, she should’ve expected that. She was rarely the person he sent to sell merchandise, she was the one whose job it was to make sure other people sold what they were supposed to. He was never going to let her just walk away: it wasn’t about the money, it was the message that it would send.

“It’s not too late for you to come back, Tempest,” King offered as he casually gestured to Grubber. “Just tell me he stole them from you, and then show him what we do to thieves, and I’ll overlook your… misguidedness.”

Tempest glanced for a moment to her captive friend, whose pleading eyes reminded her of the weakness that once disgusted her. She could remember all the times people given her that exact look: silently begging for mercy, but only to be met with a cold, uncaring boot.

“I’m giving you ten seconds to let him go, or somebody’s going home with a bloody nose.”

“Can you even see yourself right now?” an incredulous King asked. “Here you are, trying to act like a Girl Scout, but when the cards are down, you’re still just an animal.” When his words were met with only a silent and rigid glare, he let out a defeated sigh at long last. “Okay, enough of this farce. If this is where you want to play Custer, then so be it.” He snapped his fingers and signaled his compatriots towards Tempest. “Get rid of her.”

Knowing that King wouldn’t get his hands dirty so early, and that one thug was busy keeping Grubber contained, what could have been an insurmountable four-on-one was a manageable two-on-one instead. A heavier-set fellow, whose head reminded Tempest more of a brick than a person, was the first to step forward. A man of his stature would be expected to look confidant in such a situation, and yet there was the slightest flicker of apprehension in his eyes.

That flicker was all the assurance that Tempest needed, as she unslung her bag, and then suddenly tossed it towards the man. He caught it, purely by instinct, which left him open just long enough for his opponent to close in and drive her size eleven leather boot right into his Elements of Harmony. As he doubled over, his agonized cries now an octave higher, Tempest grabbed him by the collar and threw all her weight into a headbutt. There was a wet, sickening crunch of bone before the man fell backwards, his nose gushing out a fountain of blood.

As red droplets trickled down her brow, Tempest just grinned and raised her fists up. “Anyone else want a piece of me?”

The remaining two henchmen displayed some measure of intelligence as one released Grubber, allowing them to approach in tandem. On top of the numbers advantage, they both took out a switchblade. While dangerous, they also may as well have held up signs that stated ‘I’m going to lead with this hand.’ When the first assailant stepped in, leading with his knife as expected, Tempest side-stepped the strike with ease and then repaid the gesture with a quick elbow strike and a staggering haymaker to the face.

The second thug moved in, lunging with his own knife in an all-too-predictable fashion. Tempest rolled to his outside, seizing hold of the knife-wielding arm with a tight lock. She pulled him down and forward, keeping him off-balance, while at the same time warding off a fresh attempt from the previous goon by giving him a swift kick to the face. King could only watch in growing dismay as his underlings were knocked about like schoolyard tykes.

“Come on, this ain’t Rocky! Stop blocking with your face!” he shouted at them, but to little effect.

Tempest continued to dance in circles around the two men, a firm grip maintained on the second of them, and kept both of them on the back foot with repeated kicks and elbows to the head. Neither blocking or dodging appeared to be their strong suits; it was becoming apparent that they had always relied on brute force and intimidation to get ahead rather than any measure of skill.

Not content with just simply embarrassing her opponents, the spirited teenager proceeded to wrench the man’s arm inwards, driving his own knife into his opposite shoulder. Even Twilight was able to hear the pained scream that arose, which only worsened when Tempest twisted the man’s arm further, opening the wound even more. Now more concerned about the knife jammed into his arm, the thug offered no resistance when Tempest grabbed him by the head and slammed it with all of her might into the side of a nearby dumpster.

There was little time to revel in her victory, however, as she caught a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye. Instinctively, she spun around and raised her arm up to defend, which proved to be just in the nick of time as the other goon had lunged at her again with the knife. The blade caught the back of her prosthetic hand, driven in with enough force that it pierced through it and stopped just inches short of her face.

“Asshole!” Tempest snarled.

With the knife stuck in place, though, it was easy for her to wrench it out of his grasp, and then she repaid his insolence with another stunning hook to the face. He was then knocked to the ground by a sweeping kick, and as he stumbled to try and get back up, Tempest followed up with a football-inspired punt to the jaw, knocking him out of the fight.

The alleyway should’ve fallen silent as the last of the underlings lay defeated on the ground, but Tempest was treated to a slow clap from King, who looked more amused than anything else. If he had been surprised by the results, he did a masterful job of hiding that fact.

“Bravo, Tempest, bravo! I tip the metaphorical hat to you,” he said. “See, this is why you shouldn’t leave: you’re a natural at this! When you want something, there’s just nothing that gets in your way.”

“Awfully bold words considering you’re the only one left standing,” Tempest warned, facing her former employer with a steely glare. “I wonder just how tough you are.”

King just held onto his smarmy grin, undaunted by the menacing teenager. “Well, you know me: I’m just a regular Boy Scout.” In a swift, smooth motion, he reached into his coat and drew out a pistol. “Always be prepared.”

Staring down seemingly insurmountable odds, Tempest could only growl inwards. She mentally kicked herself for not realizing that King wouldn’t let himself be caught unprotected. She might’ve been good in a brawl, but a gun just stacked the deck against her beyond anything she could manage.

Tempest held her ground and quickly raised her eyes. “A gun? Really? Are you really going to jump to murder just because I want to quit?”

Keeping the gun trained on target, King took a few steps closer. “You of all people should know the importance of one’s reputation. This isn’t about money or drugs or you wanting to run off and play pretend with your new girlfriend—” Once he was close enough, he suddenly drove his fist straight into Tempest’s gut. The blow struck with such ferocity that the teenager fell straight to her knees, clutching and gasping to catch her breath. “—it’s about precedence.”

Tempest was still down on all four as she struggled to get her lungs working again. Even despite having worked for him for so many months, the sheer brute force of his punch still left her mind reeling with, ‘what the hell just happened?’

King grabbed her by the hair and wrenched her head upwards, just enough so that she could see his still-grinning visage. “I took you in when nobody else would. I made you stronger than you’ve been. I make the call when you are finished, not you!”

“If you’re going to kill me, could you just hurry up already? All this grandstanding is giving me a headache.”

“Ha! I’m going to miss that sassy mouth of yours,” King said as he gave Tempest a smack on the back of the head, if only to rub his dominance in further. “You know, for all the trouble your stupid little girlfriend has caused me, I think when I’m done here I’ll go pay her a visit.”

Tempest had just about resigned herself to her fate when those words sparked a growing ire in her. “She has nothing to do with this,” she growled through gritted teeth.

“On the contrary: she just cost me one of my best employees. It’s only fair that I’m entitled to some form of compensation, don’t you think? It’s nothing personal; just business.”

It was a threat as thinly-veiled as a wet t-shirt, which only stoked Tempest’s anger further. Losing to King was degrading, but it was her mistake and the consequences were hers alone. She couldn’t let Twilight suffer for her mistakes. She wouldn’t allow it! Clenching her fist so tight that her knuckles turned white, Tempest carefully scanned her surroundings for something—anything—that could tip the scales in her favour. For a moment, it looked like she’d have to resort to her bare hands again, but then she noticed that a knife was still lodged through her prosthesis. It was probably stuck, but the tip of the blade protruded out of her palm. It wasn’t much, but this close and with King busy self-aggrandizing, it might be just enough.

What other choice did she have?

“You leave her alone!” Tempest snarled as she swung the knife-impaled hand right into the side of King’s leg, just above the knee. A howl of pain rang out as she raked the blade across the joint before she sprang back to her feet and rushed headlong into him.

Gunshots echoed from the alley as Tempest slammed into King. She tucked herself just under his armpit and wrapped her arms around his upper body. With a furious cry and every ounce of strength left in her, she heaved the man off-balance and drove him hard into the ground. Another gunshot cracked through the air as she scrambled to get atop of King, wrestling the gun away from him with an elbow strike to the jaw.

Once she had the gun in her possession, she gripped it by the barrel and lifted it high over her head. “Don’t you ever threaten my friends again!” she bellowed, striking hard with the butt of the pistol to punctuate every word. “Never! Ever! Again!”

Her rage became a flurry of incoherent shouting as all of her hatred and anger cascaded into blow after blow. She didn’t stop until the man’s face was reduced to a bloodied, swollen mess and had fallen silent, save for raspy breaths through broken teeth. Strength began to fade from her arms as the adrenaline subsided, which soon left her with little more than a dull ache in hand, and a heaviness spreading through her whole body. A part of her could still scarcely believe it: she had done it.

She had beaten him.

Off in the distance, she could hear sirens approaching: the police would soon be here. Between the drugs, the gun, and the eyewitness testimony, she wouldn’t have to worry about King walking the streets for a long time.

He won’t ever be able to hurt Twilight now.

“Tempest!” Twilight’s voice called out from behind. There was a sudden gasp as she skidded to a halt, wide-eyed at the scene laid out before her. “My goodness. A-are you okay?”

Poking out from behind a dumpster, Grubber gave a quick nod. “I-I’m fine.”

“I’m sorry it came to this,” Tempest said, her breaths growing dull and listless. With a groan, she forced herself back to her feet. “I didn’t want it to end like this.”

Twilight stepped closer in order to help her friend, whom she presumed to be winded after the intense fight. “You don’t have to apologize. You protected your friend, and that’s what matters.”

“No, I’m sorry, Twilight,” Tempest turned and tried to take a step, only to stumble forward and collapse onto her friend, who managed to catch her with a slight grunt. “This is the best I could do…”

“What do you mean? I don’t—” Twilight’s words cut-off abruptly when she realized her hands, which were bracing her friend’s weight, were wet now. She pushed Tempest’s coat to the side, and that’s when she saw two hideous red stains on her friend’s shirt. “Oh my god…”

“I’m… sorry…” The last of Tempest’s strength left her, and she collapsed to the ground, her fall slowed and guided until she was resting on her back.

“Ohgodohgodohgod! W-what do I do? What do I do?!” Nothing in any of her years or any of her readings could’ve prepared Twilight for something like this. She tried pressing her palm down hard atop of the entry wounds, but the blood just kept oozing out. “J-just hold on!” She looked to Grubber. “Quick, call an ambulance!”

“Twilight.” A faint voice called her attention back to Tempest. “Inside my bag.”

Uncertain of the significance, but nonetheless willing to grasp to any hope, Twilight grabbed the nearby backpack and sifted through its contents. She found nothing until she reached the bottom, and found a small box. It wasn’t much bigger than her palm, and had been wrapped in old newspaper and topped with a small ribbon.

“Wh—I don’t understand.”

“It’s for you,” Tempest said, her breaths growing shorter and sharper with every passing moment. “Wanted… to give it to… after studying.”

Twilight just stared in disbelief for a second, as if her brain just refused to acknowledge it at first. “No! I can’t take this! I-it’s not too late! Y-you c-can give it to me later—next time that we study. There’ll be another time. There has to be! P-please, don’t leave me, Tempest. You can’t!”

“Twilight, that’s not my name,” Tempest said through a slow, straining breath. “Could you… say my name… just once?”

“It’s… it’s…” Twilight had to stop as tears threatened to overwhelm her. After wiping her eyes, she saw her friend somehow smiling back up at her, waiting and hoping. “You are… Fizzlepop Berrytwist.”

Tempest’s smile brightened as her eyes drifted shut. “Thank you…”

“F-Fizzlepop…?”

Epilogue

Numb.

There was no other word to describe how Twilight felt at that moment, sitting on a couch in a darkened room with nothing but silence and her thoughts. The conversations with the police had been long and draining, but at least it was finally over with. They had been polite and professional, and despite their repeated assurances that this case appeared ‘open and shut’, she couldn’t help shake the feeling that none of them cared.

After all, Tempest and King were just a bunch of criminals: who cared what happened to them?

A knock from the door, followed by a sudden intrusion of light, drew Twilight’s attention. It was Sunset Shimmer along with the rest of her friends.

“We came as soon as we heard,” Sunset said. Everyone gathered around the couch, with Sunset taking a seat next to Twilight. “How are you holding up?”

Twilight didn’t answer, and instead just let her gaze sink back to the small newspaper-wrapped box that sat in her lap. Her bloodied fingerprints were still visible on it. She wished she had an answer because she struggled to make sense of everything.

“What’s that?” Rainbow Dash asked as she peered from her vantage point behind the couch.

With an expressionless gaze, Twilight answered, “A gift.”

“Aren’t you going to open it?” Sunset asked, though it was more of a gentle encouragement than an actual question.

“I don’t know. She gave this to me just before—” She stopped herself, and closed her eyes to take a slow, deep breath. “I’m sorry. It’s just… it feels like if I open it now, then it’s final, and there’s no going back.”

It sounded absurd in her head: like some kind of fantasy that only a little child would indulge in. Maybe she was still just a child, scrambling for comfort after a run-in with the cold and uncaring brutality of the real world. One-by-one, though, each of her friends reached out and laid a hand upon her. The simple act was enough to remind her that she needn’t be afraid.

“I think she’d want you to open it now,” Sunset reassured her.

Slowly, Twilight peeled back the wrapping paper and then opened the box. Inside was a coffee mug, but not just any mug. She recognized it as the Crystal Prep school mug that Tempest had in her apartment: the same one that had been destroyed when it got thrown across the room during their argument. Now, though, it had been made whole again, held together by an intricate web of golden strands.

“Wow, this is incredible,” Twilight murmured under her breath.

“She worked on that all week in art class,” Sunset said. She gave a quiet chuckle under her breath as she recalled the sight of Tempest toiling away with gold-stained fingers. “Even made me promise not to tell anyone: said she’d break my kneecaps if I did.”

Examining the mug in more detail, something caught Twilight’s attention. “Hey, there’s something in here.”

She pulled a small piece of paper from inside the mug, and unfolded it for everyone to see, revealing a simple, hand-written message:

‘I’m not broken anymore.’

A new wave of emotion crashed into Twilight, and she turned and buried her face into Sunset’s shoulder. Her friend’s arms closed in around her, and she was soon being rocked gently back and forth.

“It’ll be okay,” Sunset whispered. “We’re all here for you, and we’ll be here for as long as you need.”

Twilight sniffled as she clung to her friend’s shirt. “I… I should’ve done something,” she whimpered. “I could’ve stopped them if I had just—”

“Don’t, Twilight.” The firmness in Sunset’s voice took everyone by surprise, but it had the desired effect. “If you get caught up obsessing over every ‘what if’ scenario, you’re just digging yourself a deeper and deeper hole. You’ll drive yourself insane. Trust me, I’ve been down that road before.”

“What should I do then?”

Sunset gave a bittersweet smile. “You accept what’s happened, and if it comes to it, you break.”

It was hard to accept something that hurt so much, but the more rational part of Twilight’s mind knew that her friend was right. She could spend the rest of her life replaying that moment in the alley, and it wouldn’t change a thing; nothing could change what had happened. It wasn’t going to do her any favours, and it certainly wasn’t what Tempest would want. If anything, Tempest would’ve given her a kick in the rear for moping around.

“You’re right,” Twilight muttered out after a prolonged silence. “No matter what, I’ll make it through this: because I have friends like you girls with me.”

They all gathered together for a collective embrace, which would’ve lasted longer if not for the intrusion of a high-pitched burst of static.

“Could Twilight Sparkle please report to PACU room number five. Twilight Sparkle to PACU five, please.”

Her eyes perked up at the sound of the overhead announcement. Without even a word, she burst out from her friends’ embrace and hurried out the door, stumbling into the hall of the Canterlot City hospital. Squinting from the sudden bright, fluorescent hallway lights, it took her a moment to find what she was looking for: a sign marked ‘PACU’ that directed her down the corridor. She followed the sign’s instructions, rushing down the hall as fast as she could without breaking into a sprint. After weaving past doctors, nurses, and several gurneys being pushed along the halls, she arrived at her destination.

A glass divider kept her out in the hallway, but the curtain was open just enough for her to see inside the room.

She could see her; she could see her friend.

“Tempest,” she murmured under her breath.

“You’re Miss Sparkle, I presume?” A voice spoke up, drawing Twilight’s attention to the nearby door. A man in blue surgical scrubs, no doubt a doctor, had just stepped out of the room.

Twilight nodded, anxious for answers, but constrained by manners. “What’s the prognosis? Is Tempest going to be okay?”

“Well, we were able to stop the hemorrhaging, but she lost a lot of blood in the process. There is a risk of hypoxic brain injury, but we won’t know if there’s any long-term effects until she’s awake.”

Twilight recognized the medical jargon instantly: it meant that Tempest lost so much blood from her injuries, there was a risk that there hadn’t been enough left in her to maintain the flow of oxygen to her brain. The blood transfusions from the hospital would prevent any further problems, but the question was whether they had been fast enough to prevent long-term damage.

“Can… can I go in, at least?”

The doctor nodded with a gentle, reassuring smile. “You may. The anesthesia might take some time to wear off.”

Before Twilight could go any further, the rest of her friends finally caught up with her. Their curiosity didn’t need to be verbalized, as they could deduce the answers from the look on their friend’s face. One by one, the girls filed into the small hospital room and gathered around the bed. Tempest appeared to be still sedated, silent and motionless save for the occasional wheeze in her breath.

Pulling up a chair, Twilight sat down at the bedside, and then reached out to take her slumbering friend’s hand. Though no longer panicked, a feeling of unrest still sat in the pit of her stomach, though the longer she held onto her friend, the better she felt.

“Is she going to be okay?” Sunset murmured under her breath.

“I know she will,” Twilight said with a slow nod and a hopeful smile. “She’s the strongest person I know; it doesn’t matter what the world throws at her, she never gives up, and neither will I.” Whether it took all day and all night, she was determined to stay at the bedside until her friend awoke. She wanted to be the first person Tempest saw. “I won’t let you be abandoned,” she whispered under her breath.

When Sunset noticed the faint flicker of movement in Tempest’s eyelids, she couldn’t help but let out an excited, “Hey! I think she’s waking up!”

Sure enough, a quiet, incoherent murmur escaped from the unconscious teenager’s lips. Her eyelids fluttered, struggling to pry open and reveal glazed-over eyes.

“Uh… hrmmm… wh…”

Twilight and her friends gathered around the bed, hovering over Tempest as her eyes began to regain focus and the light of life returned to her gaze.

“Tempest?” a cautious Twilight whispered. “Do you… remember who I am?”

Though it seemed like an odd thing to ask, Twilight couldn’t help but think back to what the doctor had told her: that the injuries could have long-term effects. If Tempest’s memory held, though, then the risk was far less.

Twilight held her breath as she waited, watching her friend’s eyes closely as they scanned over her features. Slowly, though, a tired smile curled upon Tempest’s features.

“Course I remember you,” she murmured. “Could you at least remember my name, though?”

“Oh, right. Sorry, Fizzlepop.” Twilight sniffled before she wiped a few loose tears from her eyes. She didn’t want to cry in front of her friends, regardless of how relieved she felt.

“Hey, Twilight?”

“What is it?”

“Thank you.” Tempest let out a weary but contented sigh as her eyes drifted shut again. “I think for the first time since that day… I’m glad I survived.”

END