The Winning Formula

Chapters

[001] Opening Pandora's Box
[010] Commencing the Experiment
[011] Being Alone
[100] Buildup and Release
[101] Forever the Best Match

[001] Opening Pandora's Box

Sunset Shimmer entered her apartment, took five steps into her living room, and promptly encountered her two most favorite things in any universe.

Twilight Sparkle sat on the couch, eating a bowl of ice cream. The tub that the ice cream came from sat on the coffee table, housed in a cylindrical metallic device that Twilight had assured Sunset could cleanly, efficiently and safely harness the properties of liquid nitrogen to keep it at optimal temperature, even better than conventional freezers, in any environment or climate. After a year, it still hadn't exploded, so Sunset gave Twilight the benefit of the doubt.

Twilight's attention, meanwhile, was fixated on the large flat-screen television in front of her, wall-mounted next to the living room doorway. Sunset knocked on said doorway, then turned and propped her back against it. She turned her head, giving Twilight a beckoning gaze—eyes lidded, smile slanted.

Twilight snapped to attention upon hearing the knocks, looking towards their source—just in time to see Sunset lazily lick and bite her lips towards the lab-coated loveliness in her field of vision.

In seconds, that loveliness was off of the sofa and pressed against Sunset's body, wrapping her arms around her longtime girlfriend in a warm, cradling embrace.

"Hi, honey," Sunset whispered, caressing a finger through Twilight's hair as Twilight nuzzled her head against Sunset's shoulder. "I'm home."

"Welcome back, Sunny," Twilight whispered back, before shifting herself to face Sunset head-on, and bringing her lips close.

Twilight tasted like vanilla right now, naturally. It was always nice to kiss her whenever she'd been cheating on her diet, which was why Sunset never, ever teased her about it. Though it was also more empathy than anything; Sunset had wrestled for years with her "new" human physiology and metabolism ever since arriving in Pedestria. Maintaining her figure, and monitoring her body and diet for any changes that could arise from repeated mirror travel that was now part of her life, would have been impossible without the help of her friends—Twilight most of all.

Though it was interesting that, even though Twilight was wearing her lab coat, for once she didn't smell like traces of various chemicals, or chemical reactions. Sunset was about to ask Twilight about that, when Twilight beat her to the punch.

"So, end of your first transfer week!" Twilight stepped back, looked up into Sunset's eyes, and bounced on her toes with a wide, toothy smile. "How was it?"

Sunset sighed as they walked back to the couch. It was a contented sigh, but fatigued as well. "About as eventful as any educational week can be, I guess?" She counted on her fingers. "Five days of magic studies with Princess Twilight and Starlight until lunch, then Equestrian politics with Celestia until evening, and finally shadowing the first couple of Luna's dreamwalking hours, until I finally feel like dreaming myself."

Sunset flopped onto the cushions with a loud, groaning exhale. "One week, and I already feel like I could pinch-hit for any of them. In fact, I'm sure I could—I've sat in on enough territory disputes, friendship school classes and, uh, inventive subconscious creations to make my head spin." She shook her head and chuckled. "To think, I once wanted to take over Celestia's position without knowing any of this stuff. Or even getting a degree here. Seriously, what was I on about back then?"

Twilight plopped down on the sofa next to Sunset with her own sigh. "I know how you feel. Up until a few years ago, I always dreamed that I'd have my own multinational multi-billion-dollar technology corporation by now, with robots automating my every task and fulfilling my every need. But even working at full mental capacity, I've only managed to make it one-third of the way there at best!"

"And at the ripe old age of twenty-five, no less." Sunset chuckled again, and rolled her eyes. "A more humbling dose of perspective, there never was."

"I know, right?" Twilight turned to look at Sunset, tapping her index fingers together and shifting in her seat. "So, uh, is it a bad idea to remind you about your scheduled courses on this side of the mir—?"

Twilight cringed as Sunset let out an even louder groan.

"Guess not," Twilight said with a sheepish titter. She took out her phone, pulling up the schedule she'd helped Sunset set up. "Psychology, public relations, international studies... honey, I know I science almost 24/7, but even I'm shocked at how deep you're diving into this. Are you sure you don't want to slow down? Even just a little?"

Sunset exhaled through pursed lips... then shrugged, her smile returning. "Nah. What can I say? I always knew I liked magic. But finding out that I love seeing how people tick, and manipulating social situations, came as a complete surprise." Sunset's smile slowly faded, and she stared past the wall beyond her. "Though maybe it shouldn't have been, given what I did when I first came he—"

Twilight darted over, and pressed her index finger against Sunset's lips. "Ah, ah, ah. Rule #1."

"Right, right. Sorry," Sunset said, her focus slowly returning.

"No apologies, love." Twilight shook her head, curling her arm behind Sunset's neck, and meeting Sunset's eyes with concern and sincerity. "Just say it."

Sunset huffed, the corner of her lip turning up the slightest bit. "'No more pasts—only present and future,'" she quoted, from the very first promise the two had made to each other when they'd moved in together.

Twilight smiled wide. "And I love the future you're making for yourself." She pecked Sunset on the lips, instantly chasing away any uneasy feelings Sunset might have had. "And that you've made me a part of it."

Sunset's cheeks tinted as her full smile returned, and she stared back into Twilight's eyes. "It really is uncanny," she said, her voice regaining its jovial lilt. "Princess Twilight said that exact same thing, word for word. Including the last sentence."

Twilight perked up, with an excited gasp. "Really? Wow, that's wonderful! That lends extra credence to my Theory of Interdimensional Similarity—" She tilted her head. "Wait, hold on. Now I'm scared of how deep this runs. She, uh, didn't try to kiss you at any point, did she?"

"No, no," Sunset giggled... then twisted her lips and slanted her eyebrows into a wily, teasing expression. "Course, if she ever tried, it might be hard for me to resist. I mean, what with her being you, but with a ton of added abusable royal power attach—ow!" Sunset yelped as Twilight elbowed her. "Kidding, kidding, I swear!"

Twilight winked. "You'd better be. I don't care how much magic she wields, I'll invent something to make that a non-issue faster than you can say 'alicorns are overrated'."

Sunset laughed. "I'm so telling her you said that. Anyway, even if either of us were into the idea, we'd never get the chance to act on it. It always seemed like any experiment we were working on would inevitably start sparking, and we'd have to act fast to keep from blowing up an entire wing of the castle," she mused, her fingers cradling her chin. "Heck, it took me, Princess Twilight, and Starlight to get things back under control on Wednesday, when we almost turned the whole place into a shock hazard." She rolled her eyes. "Last time we experiment with weather magic indoors."

"I could have told you that," Twilight said. "From personal experience. Honestly, after hearing all that, I think I wanna come now."

Sunset turned to lay on her side, giving Twilight a lazy, longing stare that looked as if she was two seconds away from giggling uncontrollably.

It took mere moments for Twilight to realize her mistake. "...oh, no. Any chance I can get a do-over on that last sentence?" she asked with a deep, sheepish blush.

Sunset inched towards Twilight, her grin squiggling.

"Or, you know," Twilight said, inching backwards, "we could just forget it ever—"

"I can arrange that," Sunset said, with all the maturity of a girl's locker room.

"Argh!" Twilight pounced on Sunset, repeatedly tapping her with clenched fists as both girls crumpled from uncontrollable, guilty giggles. "You know what I meant! You never let me get away with anything! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you—" She gripped Sunset's shoulders, looking at her with hungry eyes. "And I need you to kiss me right the hell now."

Sunset said nothing, instead leaning in and granting Twilight's request, with a smoldering kiss that communicated just how much she'd missed her girlfriend over the course of an entire week. Her tongue slipped against Twilight's, massaging, caressing, staying close, just as her arms and hands did with the rest of Twilight's body.

With their lips still pressed together, Sunset pushed Twilight down onto the cushions, laying her on her back, only parting when they both had to come up for air. Green eyes met violet in a locked, loving stare, before Sunset cast her gaze lower, to the buttons of Twilight's lab coat.

She'd unbuttoned dozens of lab coats since becoming girlfriends with Twilight. She was sure she'd unbutton hundreds more in her lifetime. She looked forward to every single one.

"Keeping your beautiful face at the forefront of my mind was the only thing that let me survive being away all week," Sunset whispered, slowly unfastening each button from the top down. As she did so, she noticed to her delight that, instead of a standard outfit or even some kind of nightwear, only lavender skin greeted her, along with the slightest of bra fabric.

"Really?" Twilight said, her voice light and airy, containing all the joy and anticipation of a girl about to go on her favorite ride.

"Really. Two expressions in particular, though." Sunset relished the sight of Twilight's heated blushes, and her lips slowly parting to take deeper breaths. "One is that smile you're struggling to maintain right now."

"And the other?" Twilight asked.

With all of the buttons undone, Sunset pulled the sides of the lab coat apart, and splayed her palm across Twilight's stomach, causing her girlfriend's breath to catch. Twilight bit her lip with an appreciative, whimpering moan.

"Well," Sunset said, leaning over Twilight one more time, "I'm sure we'll both know when you make it."

Two hours later, Sunset walked back into the living room, carrying two glasses of water. Twilight still lay on her back, lengthwise across the sofa cushions. She stared past the ceiling, her eyes glazed, her expression equal parts relaxed and euphoric. Slowly, she turned her head towards Sunset, waving one arm.

"Ice cream," Twilight demanded in a lazy voice. "Gimme."

Sunset shook her head. "Water first," she said, sitting next to Twilight's head.

"I said ice creeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeam," Twilight said, mock-pouting and kicking her legs.

"Not until we're sure you're hydrated," Sunset said in her most motherly voice. "I need you alive, and I'm sure you want the same."

"Pfft. Like this isn't totally all your fault," Twilight said—but sat up, took the glass, and downed it in one gulp anyway. "You do this to me every time I say anything remotely resembling an innuendo."

"Hmmmm. Does it really bother you?" Sunset asked. "If it does, all you need to do is ask, and I'll stop."

"I know." Twilight scooped a new bowl of vanilla ice cream, sat back, unmuted the television, and scooted next to Sunset, who kissed her on her cheek. "One day," she added, giving Sunset a devious grin. "When you least expect it."

Sunset rolled her eyes, and cuddled Twilight close. "Anyway, how was your week? I'll admit to being a little worried—you've got fewer science battle scars than usual today. Even your lab coat's clean—" Sunset did all she could to keep her face from overheating, and failed miserably. It was, however, a small solace to see Twilight fail as well, with her cheeks going full crimson. "Uh, was clean."

"One day," Twilight said, taking a spoonful of ice cream. "But yeah. I took a day off."

"Huh." Sunset blinked. "Still worried, then. That's... not entirely like you."

"We had some excellent breakthroughs yesterday in the field of atomic physics," Twilight said, "but I'll only be able to tackle their possible ramifications with a clear, rested mind." She idly picked up her Starswirl Research badge from the coffee table, twirling it around in her fingers. "So yes, I decided to put a new personal life strategy into practice. Specifically, of 'rewarding myself' when I do good work, instead of just pushing myself harder. In other words, I took your advice." She looked at Sunset, tilting her head. "Which makes me worried that we both seem to have switched work ethics without telling each other?"

"Sorry," Sunset said with a sheepish giggle. "But oh gosh, Twilight, that's wonderful." She squeezed her girlfriend lightly. "I'm so happy for you! I mean, I knew you'd do that laboratory proud in no time, but I'm always happy when you can see it for yourself."

Twilight nodded, snuggling back into Sunset. "Me too. I'd always wanted to work at Starswirl at some point—use their facilities for even better things than they already had going. I'm just glad it happened so soon." Twilight looked back to the television, which played a program featuring an older man standing in the midst of a planetarium, the solar system swirling around him. "And on a selfish note, maybe it'll fast-track me to being able to meet him."

Sunset looked at the television as well. "Huh. I've seen you watching this guy before. He even looks familiar, which is strange because I know I've never met him."

"Even if you don't know him, you know of him," Twilight said. "Everyone does—that's Neil deGrassefed-Bison!" Twilight's eyes fittingly sparkled, and she clasped her hands. "He's one of the foremost experts on how our world works, and beyond! Electromagnetism, physics, space travel..." Twilight sighed, the dreamy sigh of the sort that Sunset only ever heard when Twilight encountered a beloved scientific concept, or, well, Sunset herself. Naturally, Sunset appreciated being in such exclusive company. "I can only dream of achieving the heights he has."

"Don't sell yourself short." Sunset smirked. "If he knew what you and I did about certain... phenomena, I'm pretty sure he'd have to question his entire worldview."

"Well, bringing interdimensional pony magic into things is sort of cheating," Twilight said.

"Less than you'd think," Sunset said. "When you said his name, it finally clicked with me. Neil's totally a name in Equestria, too. I've heard Princess Twilight talk about him—though he's more of an up-and-comer over there. He's the world's most famous bovine magic practitioner, since there's... uh, just him, really? Yeah, he's making history all by himself."

Twilight giggled. "Hee. It's funny because names. Though, now that we've brought all of this up..." Twilight trailed off, growing suspiciously quiet.

Sunset grew concerned in kind. "Hey, hon. Everything all right?"

Twilight remained quiet for several moments before finally muting the television again, and saying, in a voice that was almost a whisper: "Sunset? Can I ask for your help?"

"Always," Sunset said.

Twilight shifted, turning her body around to face Sunset. "I have an idea," she said, playing with her girlfriend's hair. "Well, lots of ideas, but they all orbit a single concept. It's a pretty out-there concept, even by my standards, but if I can put it into practice..."

Sunset nodded. "Totally listening."

"What I've been doing at Starswirl is great," Twilight continued, "and I wouldn't stop for anything. But honestly, any 'breakthroughs' there are child's play compared to what I really want to do."

"And what's that?" Sunset asked.

"I..." Twilight's face scrunched in momentary silence before she replied, "I want to see just how compatible our two worlds are."

Sunset smiled. "Well, you and I made things work well enough."

Twilight smiled back. "True. Though you and I are individuals who were committed to overcoming any hurdle to be together—and that's sort of what I mean here, too. I truly believe that if we combine your world's magic with my world's science and technology, we could forge new fields of study, of knowledge, of reality itself! Not to mention, help so many people and ponies in the process."

And there were Twilight's sparkling eyes again, right on cue—however, they faded in mere moments as her expression sobered. "But if there's one thing I've learned from CPA, CHS, from university, and even Starswirl Research... it's that I can't do everything alone. In fact, trying to do things alone is usually when they go badly. You know much more about Equestrian magic than me. You grew up with it. I want your help. I need your help."

Sunset's mind raced through a hundred scenarios, starting with the Friendship Games almost ten years ago—and the time Twilight's first technological brush with magic indeed almost ended badly for several people—until Sunset figured out how to use Twilight's invention constructively. "You might have a point there," she said. "But... I'm not sure what the benefits would be to justify something like this."

Twilight smiled wide and cackled. "So glad you asked, Miss Shimmer! Imagine cracking the code to creating real, self-renewing power through magical means! Or, remember when you told me about Starlight actually being able to bottle and study her emotions?" Twilight gasped in excitement. "Think about the boons that could bring to mental health!"

Twilight's words worked. Seeds of possibility planted themselves in Sunset's mind. "Your world does have faster and more varied modes of transportation," Sunset mused. "Even the trains are faster. Yet that doesn't take into account Equestria having teleportation spells..."

"Yes, yes, you get it!" Twilight squealed, hugging Sunset close and kissing her on the cheek. "Have I told you that I love you so much?"

"Oh, how quickly they flip," Sunset chuckled. "You're winning me over, but I definitely still have my reservations about this. I mean, we're talking about messing with two completely disparate sets of universal laws. Even for Science Goddess Twilight Sparkle, that's got to be a challenge. A risky one, too. And that's just me thinking of trying to pitch this idea to Princesses Twilight and Celestia."

Twilight nodded. "I agree. Which is why, I figure, we should work with just little tiny bits of both. Equestrian magic already found its way into our world long ago anyway. We've even still got sources of our own. We can just work with that."

"Another fair point." Sunset nodded slowly. "How long have you been practicing this pitch?" she asked.

"You truly don't want to know," Twilight replied. "I've wanted to ask you this for years, but I've just been too scared after... well, CHS. But recently I remembered—you've lived with magic as part of your personal world almost all your life, and, well, vice versa with me and science. We're masters of our fields. Let's do something with that. Together. The way it should be."

Sunset sighed, hugging Twilight back. "No fair invoking the Togetherness Clause."

"It's true, though," Twilight said. "I can't do this without you. So many times over the years, I've repeatedly learned: I can't be all of me without you. So I don't want to be without you anymore."

Sunset's heart melted at the words, and it was her turn for her eyes to shimmer as she gazed at her years-long girlfriend.

"Me, either," she said, leaning in for a kiss.

The moment their lips met, the world shook.

And an all-consuming explosion promptly destroyed Sunset's tranquil universe.

Sunset's eyes snapped open as the explosion jolted her to consciousness. She ignored the throbbing in her head as she looked around, trying to get her bearings.

It wasn't long before she made those bearings out to be the demolished remains of Sugarcube Corner. Specifically, the second one across town where Pinkie Pie used to work, that had the faux-retro vibe and the car sticking out of the top. That car had already collapsed after a magic blast from an hour ago had left nothing supporting it, and was now laying inside the diner proper.

Sunset huffed. Right.

She'd been dreaming of better times.

She heard a loud, unearthly roar outside, hollow and grating, malevolent and mournful. Sunset gasped and scooted back against the remains of the bar counter, doing her best to avoid splinters, broken glass, and wrecked shelves—and mostly succeeding.

Intense tremors, which required Sunset to brace herself with both hands, followed soon after. When they died down, Sunset gathered her nerves, crawled to the window, and looked outside.

The monster outside looked the way its howl had sounded: not of this world, and barely possessing a form. If Sunset squinted, she could barely make out the limbs which allowed it to amble around the roads of a mostly-demolished downtown Suburban Canterlot. Meanwhile, if Sunset didn't squint, if she looked enough at the shining, silvery membrane that made up its exterior, she could swear she could see the universe itself, with all of its stars and phenomena, buried inside of it.

A "spectral", Twilight had dubbed it. Given the range of colors that appeared in the vastness of its displayed cosmos, before blinking out of existence just as quickly, Sunset was inclined to agree. Twilight had also called it "fascinating". Sunset agreed less on that one.

As she did her best to avoid panicking, Sunset felt a heat radiating close by. She looked around. Nothing was on fire, thank goodness, though now she was wondering if her body was playing tricks on her, or worse, malfunctioning—

Then it hit her.

She darted towards a nearby piece of wreckage, seeing an orange glow emanating from it. As she tore through said wreckage, Sunset now remembered just how she'd gotten here.

A shining orange gauntlet, bearing her sun-shaped cutie mark, greeted Sunset at the bottom of the pile. She picked it up. A spark flew from its housing. At the same time it did so, Sunset felt a pang in her side.

It didn't matter. She would still have to use it. After all, she was the only one standing between that thing outside, and... everyone else.

The only one with any power at all.

She rose to her feet, looking at the spectral again, as it played with dismantling a nearby building. Her eyes narrowed with determination and purpose.

"All right," she said. "Time for Round Two."

[010] Commencing the Experiment

The concept of Defeat was not new to Sunset Shimmer.

She'd experienced it several times before. She'd been handily, humiliatingly bested when she'd tried to control the minds of Twilight's world, starting with the Canterlot High student body, requiring Princess Twilight to travel from Equestria to stop her. She'd experienced moral defeat from the Sirens before finding out what sort of person she really was, and what friendship really meant.

She'd even suffered countless losses bashing her head against the brick wall that was Flim and Flam's ring toss booth at Equestria Land—now going into its tenth year, and finally with them no longer a part of it.

Those memories seemed so far away now, yet she remembered them clear as day. Not that she had any shortage of more recent setbacks—the frustration of fighting the world's unruliest thunderclouds during her last two years of unicorn magic studies still wore fresh in her mind. Especially from the first several times they'd gotten the best of her.

Still, no matter the cause, Defeat was not something Sunset Shimmer took lightly, nor enjoyed.

At least... she thought she didn't.

Her latest Defeat had been a mere hour ago, to a magical being she'd never heard of in any legend or history book—and while that Defeat still stung, she wasn't as broken up about it as she had been about all of those other times.

As she walked through Sugarcube Corner's shattered doors and out into the street, Sunset looked at the gauntlet she held in one hand, resisting the urge to cradle it, to cuddle it. She'd... gotten something during that Defeat one hour ago that she'd never gotten from any of her other losses, and she was still trying to pin down just what that something was.

Usually, Defeat would nag at her. Defeat would cause her, no matter how much she knew better, to question her worth as a person. Defeat would replay itself, over and over in her mind, until she inevitably sought the support of a friend to remind her that Sunset Shimmer was still someone worth being.

Defeat was awful, it was heartbreaking, it always took far too long before its effects passed, it was why she didn't like to lose.

But this time, even in the face of Defeat... none that had happened. Her heart, her mind, her merciless inner critic, didn't nag at her, didn't dwell on the loss. Instead, she felt an all-consuming desire to jump straight back into things. Everything within her cried out for her to try, try again—possibility of Defeat be damned. She wasn't even sure what the word meant at that very moment.

She would have happily obliged those cries, even if she felt she had a choice.

Her heart raced as the doors swung shut behind her, and she faced the spectral, who was still taking a bite out of a nearby building—one which sold wedding cakes. Pinkie would probably have words about that for her later.

The right side of Sunset's lips curled. Her eyebrows narrowed. Teeth showed. A breeze swept through her hair. She looked up at the spectral, then down at the gauntlet.

"All right," she scoffed. "Both barrels it is."

The orange gauntlet glowed, her cutie mark insignia in particular pulsing in time with her rising excitement. Sunset slipped it onto her right hand. She still couldn't believe that it was apparently made of metal, no matter how far ahead of its time it may have been. It felt like slipping on a fabric glove, and it showed no signs of wear or tear, even though she'd seen it take a beating once already.

She flipped the switch at the gauntlet's base, relishing the high-pitched whine that sounded when she did so, and made a fist. Fixing her stare on her target, she slammed her right fist into her left palm. From nothingness, a belt appeared, strapping itself around Sunset's waist, with her cutie mark once more serving as a centerpiece in the form of the belt's buckle.

With preparations now complete, Sunset spoke the activation word, programmed into the gauntlet by its original creators:

"Henshin."

The effect was instant and overwhelming.

The sun-shaped belt buckle spun in place at blurring speeds. The glow spread from both gauntlet and belt, spreading all over Sunset's body, then jutting outward, taking its own form. It manifested further, and in moments, a personalized, fiery cyclone swirled in the middle of the street, with Sunset in its eye.

Neon-orange armor materialized on her limbs, her torso, her feet, her neck, her shoulders, her fists—every single area of her body barely weighing any more than usual, yet simultaneously fueling a feeling of invincibility. It was a claim she'd already field-tested, and found to be... not entirely accurate, but still closer to the truth than she ever would have expected.

Oh, and speaking of defying expectations, there was the surprisingly loud speaker next to the gauntlet's switch which, as her armor gradually assembled, bellowed out the most metal ballad Sunset had ever heard in her life. It was all she could do fight the urge to headbang like she was at a Lemon Zest concert.

Amidst the crashing guitars, a booming voice shouted to the heavens:

"IGNITE THE POWER OF THE SUN! PHOENIX SHIMMER IS SECOND TO NONE!"

The helmet was the last piece of armor to form over Sunset, fitting itself over her head as cleanly as the gauntlet did on her hand. When it was over, any onlookers—if they hadn't all been evacuated—would have seen a young woman fitted in armor which carried a vaguely insect-like aesthetic, complete with metallic angular "antennae" on the top of that helmet. Which was actually their function; even now, satellite signals containing location values, vitals and threat assessments beamed from space to the informative, but non-intrusive heads-up display which popped in front of Sunset's field of vision.

Only when her transformation was complete, and the cyclone dissipated, did Sunset notice that—finally—the spectral noticed her at some point during its playtime, and had been looking at her while the whole transformation spectacle was going on. Once her new form solidified, it visibly reacted, doing a double-take and then standing to face her completely, with another otherworldly roar.

Good.

Sunset gritted her teeth. Adrenaline spiked. She opened her body's floodgates, allowing it to consume her.

She would not lose again.

With her own roar, she rushed forward.

"Thank you all so much for coming," Twilight said as she, Sunset, and their five longtime friends stood in one of Starswirl Research's laboratory rooms.

As far as Sunset was concerned, and could also see from everyone else's facial expressions, the atmosphere of the lab was overbearing to everyone except the girl who worked in it for all hours of the day. Florescent lighting bore down on everyone's vision, and the air smelled faintly of metallic shards. Meanwhile machines, flashing lights, video screens, burners and beakers surrounded the seven people who were currently inside—and Sunset knew that, at best, two and a half of them understood what they were all for.

"It really means a lot to me that you've decided to help, and I'm really, really excited about what's going to happen here today," Twilight continued.

"That makes one of us, given that you've been cagey about what's going on here to even me." Sunset looked at her girlfriend, tilting her head and giving her a good-natured, but still accusing, look. "I thought we were in this together? You picked my brain like crazy for months, and then did that thing you do where you shut yourself in your lab for weeks on end."

Twilight sighed. "I know, I know, and I'm really sorry," she said, her voice taking on what Sunset knew to be a genuinely contrite tone—she'd heard Twilight's apologies often enough. "I really tried keeping you in the loop this time?" Twilight shifted back and forth, from one foot to the other. "It's just, well, you know what happens when—"

"When you get inspired, yes, honey. It's why I gave you your space, as usual." Sunset gave Twilight a kiss on the cheek, then pointed to her while chuckling in the direction of the others. "Seriously, when she's on an invention bender, this girl forgets to go to the bathroom if I don't remind her."

"Sunseeeeet," Twilight said, through gritted teeth and a deep blush.

"This is your punishment," Sunset replied, to which Twilight simply sighed in defeat.

"Yeah, been there, done that whole tunnel-vision thing," Pinkie Pie said, staring off into space with wide eyes. "The eating contest war stories I could tell you."

"Or, you know, you could not," Rarity said, shuddering. "But please, Twilight, do go on. Believe me when I say we're all just as excited as you are, even if we lack full knowledge of the circumstances." The others nodded in agreement.

"Right, of course!" Twilight jumped and down with a little squeal. "So, as Sunset alluded to just now, she and I came up with this idea two years ago, but it's taken us that entire two years of working in secret to get it to even this early stage."

"Well, then," Rarity said, "by all means, please don't keep us in suspense! In my line of work, playing your cards too close to the chest can mean the difference between an enraptured audience and an apathetic one, no matter how good your product may be. I mean, we're your friends and we'd never stop caring, but..."

"It's the same whenever I have to do a scientific presentation," Twilight replied, pacing across the room while looking at the others. "Ten years ago, to this very day, I created a device meant to track and contain electromagnetic fields, along with any anomalous related energies. It was on that day that I learned that 'magic' was real, that it took many forms, and that it could be both contained and combined.

"Since then, I've used magic in various forms..." Twilight clasped her hands, looking down. "And magic has also used me. And I feel comfortable in asserting that the same applies to all of us in this room, to say nothing of other unfortunate souls in Canterlot who were affected by it in more... distressing ways."

All present collectively sighed as shared memories wafted through each of their minds.

"And for years, I lived in fear of that." Twilight looked up again, then walked to Sunset, hugging her from the side. "However, two years ago, after seeing Sunset beginning her studies anew, to allow her to embrace the magic that has been so often misused... well, I decided that if she could do it, so could I."

"But how?" Pinkie Pie asked, throwing up jazz hands. "In her world, Sunset's a literal unicorn with a built-in horn that lets her do all sorts of super-real magical things!" She fetched a party hat from her hair, and placed it atop Sunset's head. Sunset chuckled and rolled her eyes. "No wibbly wobbly science-timey stuff needed!"

Twilight nodded. "Well, it starts with what I do best. The magical detection and containment device I mentioned? I've, uh, maybe been tinkering with and iterating on it since that day. Just a bit at a time, over time."

"Um... how much is 'just a bit'?" Fluttershy asked.

Twilight walked to the rear of the laboratory and flipped a switch on the back wall, causing the section beside it to slide out and to the side. In several seconds, everyone present was treated to the sight of a small chamber, with a diamond glass-covered metallic pedestal in the center.

"Meet the Friendship Converter, Mark 28," Twilight said, amidst scattered gasps from her friends. "The nomenclature came to me once I learned from Sunset that friendship and camaraderie are the literal building blocks of Equestrian magic." She pointed to the seven round, empty slots atop the pedestal. "This chamber is modeled after the geode pedestal we originally found at Camp Everfree."

"Whoa!" Rainbow Dash darted over to it, poking her face dangerously close. "Literal keen gear! This thing looks amazing!" She ran around it a few more times, squinting at various areas of it, poking at it, prodding at it, 'hmm'ing at it... before looking at Twilight and blinking blankly. "Uh... so, what does it do?"

Twilight's eyes sparkled. "What you're looking at, Rainbow, is our gateway to clean, self-renewing power. No need to endanger our world by wasting its natural resources, when friendship is an infinite resource all its own!"

"Now, hold on there, missy," Applejack said. "I ain't no rocket scientist—that's your department—but, ain't that kind of a, how you say... 'universal impossibility'?"

"In this universe, yes, and even in Equestria as well! But combine the principles of both, and we can break through any scientific limit!" Twilight raised closed fists to her chest as she gave her smiling speech. "Imagine it: pollution, radiation, and other environmental risks born from conventional power sources are about to become things of the past! New technologies are now possible around every corner! We can even take these innovations back to Equestria! Who knows what kind of magic is possible with our technology giving it a hand?" She leaned back on the lab table with a happy, almost spent sigh. "Endless possibilities begin here, my friends. They begin with us."

"So... what do you need from us?" Rarity asked.

Twilight nodded, still beaming. "This is why I asked you to bring your pendants. The Converter requires a reliable source of Equestrian magic to function. Which we'll be asking Equestria itself to lend us, once we're sure that this concept fully works as envisioned. Meanwhile, however, just as Equestria has their Elements of Harmony, we have our Harmonic Geodes." She held out her hand. "I'll need to borrow just a little bit of their magic to showcase this."

The others gave Twilight their pendants, and Twilight separated the geodes from their necklaces. "Now, I just feed them into the chamber, like this," she said, placing them, one by one, into each of the pedestal's seven slots. "Mark 29's slots will likely be tailor-made to each element, after I do further research into seeing exactly which pseudo-harmonic frequencies will allow for maximum conversion throughput from Loyalty, from Kindness, et cetera." She placed her own geode in last, stepping away and adjusting her goggles as she peered at all seven sitting inside. "However, for right now, a flat elemental siphoning will do just fine."

Twilight then replaced the diamond glass housing atop the pedestal. "And that's it! The machine is pre-set to the lowest intensity—Equestrian magic is potent, so this will siphon only a trickle, if that, for the energy conversion process." She passed out safety goggles to everyone, giggling as she did so, then pointed up, towards several incandescent bulbs lining the chamber's ceiling. "And now, provided all goes well, we'll soon witness the creation of a brand new power source! The fun begins when I press this button. Everyone ready?"

All nodded, and Twilight moved to a green button on the side of the metallic pedestal. "All right, then! Three... two... one... let there be light!"

Twilight pressed the button on the side of the Friendship Converter, which gave off a quiet hum as the geodes glowed faintly, followed by the top of the pedestal itself. Soon, lights of all colors of the rainbow shot from the geodes, bouncing around within the glass.

All of the young women present gaped at the sight, then looked up at the bulbs. For several seconds, nothing happened... then, one of the bulbs blinked. Sunset and Twilight gripped each other's arms.

Another bulb blinked. Then another, and another. With each sign of life, Sunset and Twilight held each other more tightly... until, in the space of a minute, all ten bulbs shone brightly.

Everyone cheered, except for Twilight, who was positively screaming, bouncing around the small room, and hugging Sunset for all she was worth—before kissing her outright in front of everyone. Sunset, fortunately, was too happy to be embarrassed. "Sunny, Sunny, did you see?" Twilight squealed after the kiss was broken.

"My eyes still work, Twi, so yes," Sunset laughed. "You totally did it."

"No way—we did it!" Twilight placed her palms on Sunset's cheeks. "I keep telling you, love, just because I build these things doesn't mean you're any less important to the process! The very blueprints for this chamber would not have existed without your knowledge, without your coming to this world and into my life! Do you get me?"

Her heart warming, Sunset hugged Twilight. "Thanks. That means a lot to me to hear."

Twilight hugged back. "Then I'll keep saying it until it sticks. For now, though, it looks like it's time to take notes on a successful experiment. Oh, gosh, I'm already wondering how I can take this further! What if we cut out the middleman entirely, and made light sources entirely from magic?"

"That is a concept worth looking into," Sunset said.

"I've already got a name for it if it works: "Equestrian Luminescence!" Twilight spread her arms wide, visibly continuing to float on cloud nine... until she heard Applejack's voice:

"Uh, Twilight? Is it supposed to do that?"

Twilight blinked. "Huh? Do what?"

Applejack pointed up, whereupon Sunset noticed that the glow from the bulbs were still getting brighter.

"Huh. Those bulbs are glowing far past their lumen specs. I'll cut the chamber's master power." Twilight pulled a large lever on the wall.

Nothing happened—at least, nothing that Sunset expected from the words "cutting the master power". Instead, the dull hum of the Friendship Converter turned into a loud whine. Twilight backed away. "That's... not good."

"What's going on?" Rainbow asked.

Twilight ran around the chamber, looking frantically for clues. "As near as I can tell, the Equestrian magic must have overridden the circuits! That shouldn't be possible—"

"Even though we just accomplished the impossible a minute ago," Rarity finished.

Upon seeing several bulbs pop, one after another, Sunset took charge. "Everyone, out of the chamber!"

"But—" Twilight began.

"Now!" Sunset herded everyone out, back into the lab room. She then ran to Twilight, who straggled behind the rest, pulling her away from the chamber which was now glowing red, then orange.

"Twilight? Honey? Talk to me, what's going on? Do I need to do anything drastic? Do I need to pull alarms? Evacuate? Help me out here."

"I-I-I don't understand," Twilight said, as if she hadn't heard Sunset at all. "This wasn't supposed to happen. The test wasn't supposed to go like this!"

The chamber glowed yellow. Sunset gestured for everyone to leave the lab, and go to the building exits, pulling the fire alarm along the way. "'Wasn't supposed to?'" she yelled over the din of the alarm. "You mean you haven't tested this before?"

"Not with the real thing," Twilight yelled back, "but I have everyone's geodes' harmonic and electromagnetic signatures on file! I've run simulations for every scenario!"

As they made it out of the building, and to the end of the block, a pang hit Sunset's heart. She had a painful hunch. "Did those simulations account for the anomalies that always take place when all seven are close to each other?"

Twilight stopped, looking back at the building. She could see a faint blue light from the room they'd just left. Of course! Our geodes, and the Equestrian magic within them—always tended to adapt to situations, especially when all seven were brought together. They might know what we're trying to do here... and be trying to compensate."

Sunset's eyes widened. "How do you compensate for trying to bring limitless power to an entire world?"

The lab window shattered, a violet light emanating from the opening.

"I..." Twilight shuddered. "I think we're about to find out."

[011] Being Alone

On reflex, Sunset Shimmer braced for impact.

It was a purely instinctual maneuver, which she had no complaints about slipping into as she barreled towards the monster at top running speed. The flaming aura around her grew brighter, the temperature within her suit grew hotter, and her own voice grew louder than she ever thought possible.

She barely felt it when her fist hit its target; barely heard the boom. Downtown Suburban Canterlot wasn't as lucky, as a vertical shockwave emanated from the forceful meeting of the two beings, crumbling bricks, breaking glass, and setting off car alarms for blocks in its wake.

She shut her eyes as the destruction took place. When she opened them again, she saw the spectral stagger back.

Good.

Good.

It deserved it. More than anything or anyone that Sunset Shimmer had ever been angry towards in her entire life, it deserved that pain.

The high of satisfaction proved fleeting, however, and it didn't take long for her heart to drop back into her stomach as she remembered how she'd gotten to this point. She sniffled, waves of regret washing over her as, despite her best efforts, memories of past days replayed in her mind.

Memories which only served to make her want to scream again.

Sunset stood behind Twilight, who was hunched over her desk, typing away like a mad woman on a keyboard hooked to three monitors—the center one showing rolling lines of code, the left one showing a three-dimensional diagram of something Sunset couldn't identify, and the right one slideshowing pictures of cute puppies at the rate of ten per minute. Twilight darted her head back and forth between each one, her expression shifting between concentrated, analytical, and relaxing, respectively.

Convinced that this was going to be Twilight's pattern for some time yet, Sunset looked around in the combination lab-slash-bedroom she'd found herself in, less than 48 hours after the accident. After notifying their friends and family and having them notify the authorities in turn, Twilight and Sunset had taken vehicles far from the accident site to get their bearings and take stock of the situation.

Which, in the end, found the two of them in an orange RV with pink trim, parked deep within Everfree National Forest. Also of note was that this RV was actually a mobile laboratory that Sunset had no idea even existed until about six hours ago.

"So, uh, when were you going to tell me about this place?" she asked, trying to make small talk while Twilight worked.

"I didn't think I'd ever need to," Twilight said, staying focused on her screens but still gesturing her hand around the room. "I bought and converted Sparkleworks before we moved in together. Figured after I graduated college, I'd use it to tour Pedestria while doing research on any scientific phenomena I found. Those plans changed after we decided to get serious."

Twilight swiveled around in her seat to face Sunset, her eyes wide and foreboding. "But now we're using it for literal damage control. I'm almost afraid to ask, but how are things back home?"

Sunset showed Twilight her phone, which played a news broadcast that showing Central Canterlot City from a bird's eye view. Scattered buildings were been utterly demolished, with the area closest to the Starswirl Research building—which Twilight had dubbed "Friendship Ground Zero" out of morbid amusement—having been hit the hardest.

"Second verse, same as the first," Sunset sighed. "And only going to get worse. At least the city's evacuated, and all of our friends are safe. We had a hard time getting the Apple Family to part with Sweet Apple Acres, but otherwise..." Sunset put the phone back in her pocket, as she could see Twilight's expression continue to droop the longer she looked at it. "Hey. It's going to be okay. We're going to solve this."

Twilight took a deep breath before saying, "You're right. I... I've got to just keep working." She stood up and walked to a nearby table, where an unknown device with upright tongs stood.

It was the same shape Sunset had seen on the screen. To confirm her hunch, she followed the wires sticking out from the device, and saw that they ran back to the computer. Another invention, then. She marveled at just how quickly Twilight was able to put these machines together.

And then, Twilight took out her geode.

Sunset stifled a gasp. "What are you doing? Where did you even get that?" Sunset asked. "Aren't our geodes part of what caused the explosion?"

Twilight nodded, matter-of-factly. "They are. Which is why I went back to find them. After whipping up a geode detector, of course. Unfortunately, I was only able to find mine for now. They must have been scattered a fair—"

"You went back without me?" Sunset said, raising her voice.

Twilight stepped back. "I-I didn't want you to worry—"

"Well, that was the worst way to go about it! When did you go, last night while I was sleeping?"

"What does it matter?" Twilight stepped forward, her expression hardening to match Sunset's. "This is exactly why I didn't want you to know, okay? I feel bad enough that I made that monster back home!" She gestured in the general direction of Canterlot. "I need to do anything I can to solve it! And this is how!" Twilight moved to put her geode in the device—and Sunset grabbed her wrist.

Twilight gritted her teeth. "What are you doing?"

"Is this really what it takes?" Sunset asked. "More messing around with the exact same magic that got us in this mess?"

"I just said that, didn't I?"

"If that's the case, then..." Sunset did her best to keep herself calm and level. "Look, I don't feel experimenting with geode magic even more is the best course of action. At least, not without advice from Equestria. This might be more than even the two of us can handle—"

To Sunset's shock, instead of agreeing, Twilight yanked her arm away.

"Feelings aren't going to solve this," Twilight said, in a voice colder than Sunset had ever heard in the ten years she'd known her girlfriend.

A short bout of silence followed as Twilight took a deep breath, leveling her voice as well. "Sunset, that thing back in Canterlot City is magic. Pure magic. My device just sort of... channeled it, before it siphoned too much and things went kablooey." She looked in Sunset's eyes. "Don't we usually solve our magic-related problems by firing a harmonic rainbow laser at it?"

Sunset ignored the sudden pangs which pricked her heart upon hearing those words. She shook her head, banishing her worst conclusions before she could jump to them. After all, Twilight couldn't have meant what Sunset thought just then. Twilight knew better. They'd shared too much of each other: their dreams, their secrets, their vulnerabilities...

"It's never that simple," Sunset said. "Even you have to know that! I can't believe—" A thought came to Sunset, unbidden, and she gave it form, the words slipping out before she could stop them. "I never should have allowed you to work with my world's magic in the first place!"

And then, it was too late.

Twilight's eyes widened to double size. "Allowed? Who's the one who was all in with me on this? Who's the one who freaking snuck behind Equestria's back along with me? You're the last person who gets to say anything's 'allowed'!"

Sunset held up her hands, desperate to get things back on the rails. "I'm just saying that we should exercise responsibility—"

"To say nothing of you sneaking behind Equestria's back being the reason magic invaded this world in the first place! Or was it me who wanted to take over the world using it? Two worlds? Starting with ours? Oh, yeah. Real responsible."

The anger, the familiar, roaring anger, welled up from within the pit of Sunset's stomach. To her credit, Sunset tried not to lean into it. "Okay, no. You don't get to do low blows. Not given how we met in the first place. We've both been at fault when it comes to this stuff."

"Oh!" Twilight paced around, rolling her eyes and her wrists. "You mean when I did a regular, run-of-the-mill science experiment, and the crazy magic you brought to my world ended up getting caught up in it, and you yelled at me when it happened, just before I got utterly consumed by the stuff and had to live with panic attacks involving my dark side for years? Until now, even? Because that was all my fault, wasn't it?" She stopped in front of Sunset with a pointed glare. "Thanks for that, by the way."

Sunset crumpled. But... but Twilight had so often said that she'd gotten over those things! Had she been keeping all of it secret? Had Twilight been lying all this time? Sunset couldn't bring herself to ask, instead only managing to weakly utter, "Twilight... Twi, you're upset. I understand—"

"You're darned right I'm upset!" Twilight's voice cracked as she placed one hand on her heart and thrust the other towards the window. "Because this time, the thing out there wrecking our hometown is something I made! Because I thought, like a certain someone else in this room who had huge ambitions that weren't good for anyone, that I could control everything I got my hands on! And now, again like that certain someone, I can't blame anyone else for the consequences! Face it, Sunset: the only reason the two of us are together is because of a whole bunch of awful, ill-advised decisions that, just like the one we're dealing with right now, can all be traced back to a single selfish mistake!"

A long silence followed, hanging over the room like a hundred swords. Sunset could barely parse Twilight's words, could barely interpret them, but knew what they meant. Even if Twilight didn't. Even if they'd been accidental.

Were they? It didn't matter. To think that, with just a few words, all of the armor Sunset managed to put around her heart over the years could be bypassed completely. To think that all of her confidence, all of her self-assurance that her past no longer mattered, all of her manufactured hope for the future... could dissolve in an instant. She felt her body weakening, her legs shaking, barely able to support herself. Her breathing quickened, deepened. Her surroundings lost their clarity, turning to mush.

Twilight must have sensed what she'd done, because her voice suddenly turned concerned and caring, and she stepped closer. "Sunset, that's... oh, no." She shook her head. "Sunset, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean—"

Sunset shook her head, resisting, just for a short while, the alarms that rang inside her, telling her that she needed to get out, now. She backed away from Twilight.

"Thank you for telling me how you really feel," she said in a meek, defeated voice. "As luck would have it... I agree."

"No! Sunset, no!" Twilight grabbed Sunset's wrist. "Let me explain, please! We need to—"

The two locked gazes, seeing nothing but pain in each other's eyes. Too much pain, both knew, for words to erase.

Sunset slipped her arm out of Twilight's unresisting grasp. She walked out of the RV, mounted her motorcycle, and zoomed off in the direction of Canterlot.

Sunset screamed again.

This is all! Because! Of you! You did this to us!

Ignoring joints that protested in pain from her previous battle, Sunset did everything she could to capitalize on her momentum and advantage. She'd taken boxing in college as an elective and, after quickly finding it to be a personally balancing and fulfilling hobby, enrolled in a gym as soon as she was able.

And practiced for years.

The nickname "Freight Train" revolved around her soon after.

You took her away from me! I'm not a mistake! I have a purpose! I have a life! I have someone who I love and you took her away from me and made her say awful things!

Fiery body blows burst into the spectral, one after another, with machine precision, each one setting off a miniature explosion and turning her hearing into a drum concert. Sunset pressed her assault, coming dangerously close to merging with the beast if she made even one wrong move.

None of that mattered. Only one thing mattered. She called on her adrenaline and her frustration, daring even to get in touch with the anger she knew from the old, bad days, when she was a newcomer to this world, barely knowing anyone but knowing how to drive them apart, and make them hate each other as much as she was sure she hated her previous mentor. Anger that, ironically, felt refreshingly straightforward.

The punches continued. No time for shame. Shame later. Greater good now. Get rid of this thing, now! This is ALL YOUR FAULT!

She roared yet again as her anger flared, and she punched faster and faster. After thirty hits—forty? Fifty? She'd lost count a while back—a light blipped in the corner of her heads-up display.

"OVERDRIVE READY," it read.

Huh. That hadn't been in the instruction manual. But knowing her girlfriend... well, time to find out what it was. She gave the mental signal for it to activate.

Flames jutted out from her boots and her arms, everything a blur or red and orange. And the speaker from her wrist boomed once again.

"OVERDRIVE! FINAL VICTORY TECHNIQUE..."

Twin flaming wings sprouted from the back of the suit. She looked up at the spectral, showing teeth. It didn't seem to know what was happening.

It would soon enough. Sunset raised her fist skyward.

"...PHOENIX RISING!"

The rest of Sunset went with it.

Her vision spun as she soared, a rising column of fire surrounding and swirling about her as she rocketed upwards, sending punch after punch into the spectral, who rose with her. If she'd lost count of her hits before, she certainly didn't see the use of keeping track now, even as her HUD registered a strike counter in the triple digits.

The final hit loosed another shockwave—horizontal this time—as the spectral was sent flying into Flim and Flam's shop ten blocks away. She decided to save her sympathy for more deserving establishments.

Like everything else. Downtown was in shambles, but thankfully, things hadn't spread to the residential district—people would still be able to come back to their homes, Sunset and Twilight included. Eventually. Someday. Maybe. If anyone else could stand the sight of Sunset or Twilight again.

If Sunset could stand the sight of Twilight.

Her heart dropped. Who was she kidding?

More like if Twilight can stand the sight of me.

Her pity party was stopped flat as she crashed into the ground. She lay there, unmoving and groaning. She'd actually felt some of that one. Her suit's operating system gave off mild beeps, but was otherwise a far cry from the bevy of activity it had been a mere minute ago. That technique really had taken everything she had left.

And now, things felt so familiar.

If only she hadn't been so reckless the first time she'd tried to take on that thing. Drunk on the feelings of invincibility, of validation, she'd thrown herself into hit after hit from the monster, in the name of landing as many of her own as she could, playing nowhere near as smartly, and, ironically, nowhere near as desperately.

In other words, ignoring Twilight's warnings. Ha. Now that was a switch.

She did her best to breathe deep, to breathe fast, to catch her breath, to avoid sniffling. But when she heard a booming stomp some distance away behind her, her resolve crumbled.

She let the choked sobs come.

Twilight, damn it, damn you, damn me, why did we have to fight?

She looked behind herself. The spectral was officially back. It was bruised. It had holes in a few places. Those holes crackled with electricity.

It was angry.

Fighting this thing makes no sense. Fighting you doesn't make any sense.

She called on the fire again, barely feeling her nerves, barely managing to stand.

So, why did we...

She collapsed again, on her back, looking at the sun. Not directly at it, of course—that'd be silly—but it was always nice to know that it was in the sky, as a reminder.

As she closed her eyes, she could have sworn she saw Twilight's smiling face, one more time. "I just wish I got the chance to... to tell you..."

Sunset's vision went dark. A voice echoed in that darkness.

A whispering voice. Twilight's voice.

"I know."

[100] Buildup and Release

Sunset Shimmer entered her apartment, took five steps into her living room, and promptly found herself back where it all began.

There were a few changes, to be sure—it was midday, the living room was a bit dusty, and every so often the ground gave off the lightest of tremors, followed by the distant howl of the.... monster that she'd seen with her own eyes for several fleeting moments on the way here.

She glanced at the sofa, where she and Twilight spent so many hours talking about life, the multiverse and everything, and often—not always, but often—capping it off with intimate moments. She sat on that couch and sighed, burying her head in her hands.

With no one around to see her, she finally allowed herself to cry.

Twilight. That hurt. You know how much that hurt, right?

It was almost shocking how easy the tears came, how easily the whimpers slipped out.

You know... how many times I tell myself the same things you said, right?

Even though she knew full well how long she'd locked off that part of herself. How long she'd forced herself not to cry.

I've spent so long fooling myself. Into thinking that my life has a purpose. Into thinking that I'm better than I really am. Into thinking that I could make up for being... me.

Leaning against the arm of the sofa, Sunset indulged in her sorrows, not even trying to fight it... until another minor earthquake happened, stronger this time. She sat back up, her sobs slowing to hiccups. She rubbed her eyes.

W-... why did I come here alone? Straight into the danger area? What was I thinking?

That was when a section of ceiling opened, and something aimed itself directly at Sunset. It was a silver-barreled device that looked like... some sort of weapon? Sunset gasped. Had Twilight installed defenses in their apartment? She'd talked about designing some, but had said they would both talk about what they wanted first.

The weapon activated. Sunset cringed and curled inward... then did a double-take upon seeing a yellow light wash over her, from top to bottom. The device deactivated seconds later, and shifted back into the ceiling, which closed back up like nothing happened.

"Scan complete," Twilight's disembodied voice echoed across the apartment, as a section of the far wall behind Sunset slid away. Sunset walked towards it, already getting flashbacks to a couple of days ago. An additional room greeted Sunset beyond the opening, illuminating as she walked inside.

Gleaming metals and flashing circuitry lined the walls. A lab table sat erected to the side, near a chalkboard absolutely covered in equations. A dome-topped pedestal that looked a lot like the one at Starswirl Research caught her eye, and she froze, not sure whether to approach it or run out of the apartment entirely.

"Subject identified," Twilight's voice echoed again, stopping that decision in her tracks. "Sunset Shimmer... the love of my life." A screen rose up from the table and blinked on, showing Twilight wearing one of her usual lab coats, and a smile. "Begin External Emergency Playback. Hey, babe."

Sunset almost choked, but managed to hold back.

The Twilight onscreen sighed, her expression sobering. "First, please allow me to apologize for the crude delivery method of this message—I made it in a rush. Eventually I'll upgrade to solid holographic imaging, but for now..." She blinked, looking around. "You know what? Probably not the point."

Despite herself, Sunset rolled her eyes and shook her head with a small smile. Her constant switching between perfectionism and practicality always was one of the quirks about Twilight that Sunset loved.

"If you're viewing this message," Twilight said, "it means that not only have I done something terrible in the name of science, but it's something I can't even stubbornly deny is my fault like I normally do." Twilight twirled a few locks of her hair around her index finger. "Which means it's... well, really bad. And judging by my satellite readings, it's negatively affected our world as a whole. In other words, at least an Epsilon-level screwup."

Sunset nodded. "Pretty much."

"In which case, I've prepared a last-ditch option."

The pedestal lit up, and the dome atop it parted to reveal a gauntlet, colored a rich orange. Sunset watched it slowly rotate on the table it stood on.

"While working at Starswirl, I made a few close friends," Twilight said. "Been meaning to introduce them, but they're the type to totally bore you with science talk on a level that even I don't feel like dealing with after a long day.

"More to the point, some of them were international. Specifically, the friends I made in the Neighponese branch of SSRC were, interestingly, the only ones who took me seriously whenever I hinted towards the concepts behind Equestrian Magic, including what its possibilities could mean for the world—or how it could endanger it. After swearing them to secrecy, the three of us decided to get in front of the problem. With the help of Special Technicians Tomo and Daichi, we managed to devise what we're tentatively calling the 'Rider System'." Twilight paused long enough for Sunset to blink. "You know. Because we're people, and we're technically taking advantage of horse power, et cetera."

"Ohhhhhh, right," Sunset said.

Twilight giggled, and Sunset couldn't help but smile again. "It sounded way better when we came up with it, I swear. Anyway. The Rider System combines the slightest bit of Equestrian magic with my personal advancements in nanorobotics, to create the lightest, sturdiest, most shock-resistant and element-resistant armor to date. You were the first person I thought of when making this, because, well, you've always been more of a scrapper than I am, and in tests it turns out even I can punch a bus with this thing." She giggled again. "It was fun."

Twilight sighed. "Bottom line: at a time like this, if I can use my smarts to keep the person I care most about in this world alive, then that's what I'm going to do. Use what's in this room to protect yourself. Do not, under any circumstances, try to go beyond defense—it hasn't been tested for that."

Sunset took the gauntlet off of the pedestal and held it in her hands. It was surprisingly light, even more than Twilight had suggested.

"Good luck," Twilight said. And please, whatever you do... live. It's the greatest thing you can do, not only for me, but because any world is better off with you in it."

The video feed cut. With the gauntlet warm in her hand, and the despair in her heart fighting against the good memories she still had of Twilight, Sunset stepped out the room.

She only managed to get one foot out the doorway before Twilight's voice sounded again:

"Begin Internal Emergency Playback."

Sunset turned around to see a much more contrite Twilight on the screen this time, tapping her index finders together, shuffling back and forth, and constantly averting her eyes, before finally speaking.

"H-hi, Sunset. I hope you don't mind, but I've scanned your vitals. And based on my readings, I've... done something to hurt you. Something absolutely terrible, that I never imagined myself doing. Which means I don't know what it is, because quite honestly, I can't possibly imagine ever wanting to hurt you, nor can I figure out how someone so strong could be hurt by someone like... well, like me who's kind of a pushover outside of my brain here."

Twilight's voice softened.

"But I do know my flaws. I've never been that great with words, or expressing myself, or exercising better judgment when I think I'm onto something big, or even knowing when to stop talking," she said with a nervous titter. "I-I mean, everything I know about caution and restraint, you taught me, yet it's the one field where I know I'm a slow learner. So, while I still can think of the right words... let me say them.

"Sunset, whatever it is, whatever I did, whether it was in anger or anguish, I want you to know that I'm so sorry. If you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I... I'm pretty sure I won't deserve it, and I don't even know if this message will help in any way."

Twilight's hand went to her chest. Sunset's went to her mouth.

"But nothing brings more pain to my heart than the possibility that I might have brought pain to yours. And nothing ever will. Whether we agree or disagree, whether things are going well or badly... I'll love you always, Sunset Shimmer." Twilight sniffled, and wiped her eyes. "Because I know just how much good luck was involved in the series of events which brought us together. And I know that, at any time, I could lose you just as easily.

"And I don't ever want that to happen," Sunset barely heard Twilight finish, as her own tears ran freely again, falling onto the gauntlet. "See me if you can? Maybe we can mend things. Even if not... I'll always want to have tried."

The feed cut to static, and Sunset leaned against the wall, sniffling and wiping her eyes to avoid soaking the gauntlet more than she had already.

A gauntlet which was now glowing a bright orange, and glowing brighter every second, until the entire room was engulfed in a single color...

Sunset's eyes snapped open. An almost blinding lamp shone above her. Everything around her felt impossibly soft.

A bed. She was in a bed. Thank goodness. She groaned as she tried to move, then gritted her teeth as every single one of her muscles told her just how sore she was.

Twilight walked in the door just then. She took one look at Sunset, and with a loud gasp, was at Sunset's side. "You're awake! Thank every star in the universe! How are you feeling?"

Sunset groaned again. "My everything hurts. Where am I?"

"Back in Sparkleworks," Twilight said.

Sunset looked around to see random beakers scattered on every stable surface she could find that wasn't her bed—including the nightstand. "Story checks out. You... you saved me. That was you I saw right before I blacked out, wasn't it?"

"Of course," Twilight said. "Fortunately the Phoenix Armor averted any real internal damage. You just overexerted yourself." Twilight smirked. "Never seen you do that before."

Sunset scoffed. "Hey, our home was on the line—" Sunset gasped, and sat up in bed. "The spectral! I didn't beat it! What happened to Canterlot?"

"Screw Canterlot," Twilight said. "That's Priority Number Three for me." Twilight clasped Sunset's hands. "You are Priority Number One. And as far as I'm concerned, you always will be."

Sunset blushed in spite of herself. "Well, now I'm curious as to just what Number Two is."

Twilight looked into Sunset's eyes, the former radiating apology and sadness.

"Us," she whispered, tears forming below those same eyes, before Twilight threw her arms around Sunset, sobbing uncontrollably. Sunset embraced Twilight in kind, remembering what Twilight felt like, smelled like, and glad to have those feelings again, even under these circumstances.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Twilight said, amidst sniffled and unrestrained cries. "I-I hurt you, and—"

"It's okay. It's all okay." Sunset rocked Twilight in her arms. "I'm sorry, too."

Twilight hiccuped, pulling back. "W-why are you apologizing? This was all me! I..." Twilight looked away. "I broke Rule #1."

Sunset nudged Twilight's face back in front of hers. "For all we shared when we started living together, we should have told each other long ago that we still had... misgivings about ourselves. That we still had sensitive topics. More to the point, we should have faced them—with the people we call friends, and the people we love." She sighed. "Rule #1 is great and all, but sometimes we need to face those dark things. Acknowledge that they happened. I've been saying 'my past is not today' for over a decade now. But fighting that spectral... it was the first time I allowed myself, just for a moment, to get re-acquainted with it.

"And you know what?" Sunset said, her voice softening. "It helped. It let me focus so I could think straight about my feelings. It let me remember how I felt about me. And how I felt about you. How I'll always feel." Sunset kissed Twilight lightly, with closed lips. "Relationships are a lot like science. You try things, and if they go badly, you don't give up unless it's a total lost cause for both parties. Otherwise you step back, take note of lessons learned, and go back in."

"Or in this case, of what I did wrong." Twilight said, no longer crying, but her voice still forlorn.

Sunset took a tissue from the nightstand, and wiped Twilight's eyes. "I love you so much, Twilight. Enough to follow you into all of this. Enough to go with any idea you come up with. But there are times I really do need to speak up."

Twilight nodded. "I understand completely. I love you too, Sunset. Enough to listen to you, over any scientific judgments I might have. I don't ever want you to not speak up. Because I need to listen when you do. You have wisdom that I don't."

Sunset sighed. "I just... I'm always afraid of being too assertive about it. Because even after all these years, I remember when that meant I was the worst person on two worlds. And it doesn't stop, no matter how hard I try by myself."

Twilight nodded again. "Meanwhile, I'm always afraid of slipping behind. Of hitting my limits. Of not being able to hack it in the scientific community. Of disappointing my friends and family. Of hearing that I don't have all the answers, and I never will."

Sunset closed her eyes. "It's a fear that feels... inescapable."

"Yeah. Like, no matter what you do, you're doomed to prove to yourself, once and for all, that you're..."

"...unable to be who you want," the two finished in unison, then looked at each other with mutual smiles.

The two hugged for several minutes, resting in the softness and warmth of each other's bodies, each whispering words of gratitude and appreciation for the other. When they were satisfied, they pulled apart, and Twilight turned on the screen nearby, which showed live coverage of the situation at hand.

"That thing outside represents the worst of what can happen when we're not in sync," Twilight said. "We get so caught up in our ambitions and fears, that we can forget what they lead to."

Sunset nodded. "Let's never forget how much we mean to each other. Let's always remind ourselves. Because this is going to happen again. We're going to fight again. We're going to fight each other, and ourselves, because becoming okay with who we are... well, that's probably going to be a lifelong journey." She paused, and added, "As will be growing old together. If you're up for that."

Twilight tensed. "Sunset... are you saying what I think you're saying?"

Sunset clasped Twilight's hands, staring into her girlfriend's eyes. "I can't be all of me without you. So I don't want to be without you anymore."

Twilight's eyes sparkled, accompanying an ear-to-ear grin, and a squeal. "Same here."

The two basked in happy silence before Twilight continued, "You know, I... always thought when I got proposed to, it'd be a lot more low-key. Maybe a restaurant date or something. Someone serenading us in the background. Also, no jewelry? You're really pressing your luck here." She giggled.

Sunset laughed. "I can get diamonds for a song in Equestria. Every jewel under the sun, actually. But we should probably make sure either of us are still welcome there first."

"We'll get there," Twilight said, standing up.

"But one thing at a time. How's the city? I don't see it on the screen."

"Yeah, about that," Twilight said, a sheepish hand behind her head. "There kind of... isn't one anymore. You've been sleeping for the last day and a half. In that time, Canterlot's been wiped off the map, and conventional weapons have proven ineffective against magical power. Meanwhile, Princess Twilight and her friends tried to combat what's effectively a hybrid magic and tech being, and failed. Doesn't hurt that their magic's severely limited over here. So they've closed off all portals to protect Equestria until the matter's somehow resolved. I was powerless to talk them out of it, partially because I can't blame them."

Sunset blinked. "Whoa."

"Yeah." Twilight grasped her arm and stared into space. "Meanwhile, between your condition, and the part I played in getting you there, I... I haven't been able to think straight enough to apply myself to the problem. I haven't been able to do anything outside of, well, think about what a terrible person I really am."

"Don't even go there. I think it's time for a new Rule #1," Sunset said, carefully standing up in front of her fiancée. "That being: We love ourselves as much as we love each other. For our presents, our futures, and the lessons of our pasts. And if we need help doing that... we come to each other. Okay?"

"I'd love that. So much. Almost as much as I love you."

Their lips met in the deepest kiss they'd shared in months—slow, soulful, full of familiar feelings. Full of the joy of finally being home in each other's arms again.

If Sunset had anything to say about it, it'd stay that way. She winked at Twilight. "Together until the heat death of the universe?"

Twilight winked back. "Even if we cause it. But that won't be today. Let's go bag us a magic monster."

[101] Forever the Best Match

Two lovers, wearing matching lab coats and safety goggles, pored over a display showing facts and figures, and physics equations.

"So, let's take stock of things," Sunset said, as Sparkleworks self-drove itself towards Canterlot's city limits. "Killer magitech monster on the loose, already demolished one city."

"Pure Equestrian magic, totally ineffective," Twilight said. "Which makes sense, as this all started by pumping a whole bunch of the stuff into a single technological conduit, and watching it backfire in our faces."

Sunset nodded. "Finally, I hate to bring this up, but we've got about two thousand words before we hit the contest limit, so we've really got to get this done ASAP."

Twilight rolled her eyes and groaned. "Ugh. Seriously, whose idea was this action B-plot? I liked it when we were kissing. Can we just go back to kissing?"

Sunset hugged Twilight from behind, causing Twilight to moan and snuggle back. "Let's consider that a reward for when we win," Sunset said. "Though still leaves us back to figuring out how. We have any dei ex machina lying around?"

"Love the nomenclature," Twilight said, "but as a woman of science, I'd never be able to live with myself." She walked to her lab table. "Fortunately, since I've been able to think straight for the last few hours, I have the next best thing."

"Yeah?" Sunset said, following her.

"Telling me about tapping into your memories gave me an idea. We combined science and magic to get us in this mess... and we're gonna do that to get us out."

Twilight held up what looked a small purple compact, which Sunset recognized almost immediately. She pointed at it with a gasp. "Isn't that—?"

"Sunset Shimmer, I give you a newly-minted replica of the Magic Container, Mark 10—the last of my iterations before I invented the Friendship Converter Mark 1. It can store unlimited amounts of electromagnetic and related energies for later use. Kind of like a... big, portable magic battery."

"Something tells me we should have tried this first," Sunset said.

Twilight sighed. "You're not wrong. Anyway," she said, handing Sunset the compact, "you've pushed yourself enough this week. I don't want you actually fighting. You're here as our supportive ace in the hole. I'll distract and weaken the spectral, you weaken it further by sapping and containing its Equestrian magic, which makes up the bulk of its form. The Phoenix Armor will provide protection and allow you concentrate on the operation."

"What about you?" Sunset asked. "How are you going to 'distract and weaken' it?"

Twilight picked up another item from the lab table. Sunset tilted her head when she looked at it, confused. It just looked a replica of the central star of Twilight's cutie mark. It took her a short while to realize what it could be, and she gasped again. "You didn't. Oh my gosh, you did."

Twilight nodded confidently. "My greatest offensive invention managed to put some holes in that thing thanks to you, and I think it's because it also employed a drop of magic, making it, effectively, my first successfully field-tested piece of hybrid tech." Twilight's eyes sparkled. "But remember, I iterate on everything. You're the ace, but I've got a queen in my hand, too." She placed the star back on the table. "Let's do this, and let's go home."

"After rebuilding it?" Sunset chuckled.

Twilight rolled her eyes. "Okay, we'll find a different home and rebuild the old one. Sheesh." Sparkleworks slowed to a stop, beeping once it did so. "Looks like we're here."

Both ladies exited the vehicle, to see the spectral in the distance, no less than five hundred feet away. Sunset raised her gauntlet. "Guess it's time. You ready, hon?"

Twilight picked up her cutie mark, and slapped it on her waist. Belt straps sprouted out from its sides, fastening around her, and the tips of the star lit up and flashed. She looked at Sunset with a smile. "With you beside me? Always."

Her heart warming, Sunset slipped on the gauntlet. Twilight took hold of her star, and spun it, as the two cried out, in unison:

"Henshin!"

A cyclone of flame surrounded Sunset as before. Meanwhile, Twilight was surrounded by numbers and mathematical formulas floating in space, which, after several moments, converged onto her and coalesced, morphing into striking, shining lavender armor.

Crashing guitars from Sunset's suit melded with orchestral strains from Twilight's, in perfect melodic harmony.

"IGNITE THE POWER OF THE SUN! PHOENIX SHIMMER IS SECOND TO NONE!"
"SECRETS OF THE UNIVERSE, NOW ALL OURS! GENIUS SPARKLE, AIM FOR THE STARS!"

As usual, all the noise got the spectral's attention. Sunset wondered if stealth versions of these suits were possible.

"Remember," Twilight said via com-link, as the two ran towards the monster. "That compact has a one-hundred-foot range, so hang back! I want someone to marry when this is all over!"

"Same goes for you!" Sunset said, activating the compact and flying up to perch on a nearby rooftop. "Be careful, or I'll kick your ass myself."

"Knew I made the right choice of girlfriends," Twilight giggled—before her armor became a literal blur, and she took off at triple speed, afterimages trailing behind her.

Sunset blinked. "Whoa."

Twilight stopped in front of the spectral, who lumbered towards her. Twilight stood still, allowing it to get close—then raised her hand just as Sunset was about to caution Twilight to get out of the way. A white light shot out from Twilight's palm, and directly into the monster's eyes, causing it to howl and stagger back, bringing its arms up.

More beams followed, driving the spectral further back, after which Twilight spread her arms and snapped both her fingers. Ten flying drones materialized in various places around her, each letting loose their own energy volleys. Even when the spectral regained its vision, it found itself having to swat wildly as the drones—accompanied by multiple moving holographic replicas of Twilight that Sunset could only discern using the Phoenix Armor's sensors—pressed their attack.

"All right, pretty sure this is enough distraction," Twilight said as she ran around the area, targeting every blind spot she could find. "Sunset, do the thing!"

"Right," Sunset said, opening the compact, pointing it towards the spectral, and pressing a button. A familiar sound she thought she would never hear again emanated from the device, and waves moved from the spectral to the compact. In under a minute, its effects showed. The spectral roared, clearly in pain, as the colors flashing across its body slowly faded in saturation.

Discerning what was going on, it then turned its sights on Sunset. It cleared the building in a single leap, and before she could react, Sunset once more stared into the infinite universe, this time as it got ready to crush her—

"Get away from my fiancée!"

Twilight appeared above both Sunset and the spectral, via drones she had used as stepping stones, and fired energy blasts from both palms. "This armor knows your next move before you do, buddy... and it also knows when you're done!"

Sunset's heads-up display blipped, just in time for her to see Twilight's armor shining with a lavender aura.

"OVERDRIVE! FINAL VICTORY TECHNIQUE: STARFALL KICK!"

Twilight propelled towards the monster at a forty-five degree angle, her right foot outstretched. Sunset blinked, and the sight before her changed again, to a bright lavender cone literally drilling against the spectral, slowly driving it back in midair. Still, the spectral fought back. It was like watching a tug-of-war in midair, without any anchors...

...and Twilight was losing.

Even with the spectral being drained, it wasn't enough. On instinct, Sunset's wings flared, and she rocketed upwards, compact in hand. She flew into the top of Twilight's cone, and to her surprise, their energies didn't clash. More to her surprise, in the cone... all was refreshing silence. The eye of another storm.

Until Twilight cried out.

"No! I've got this! You need to stay in one piece!"

Still holding the compact, Sunset wrapped her other arm around Twilight's shoulders. "Like hell! I've done the martyr thing already. Remember how you felt?"

"But... but, Sunset," Twilight choked, barely able to come up with a coherent reply, "I... I've done so much already. To our home, to you, I—"

Holding Twilight closer, Sunset closed her eyes, willing her suit's energy to transfer to Twilight's systems. She didn't even know if such a thing was possible, but if anyone could have built in such a failsafe, she trusted in Twilight to have.

"The first thing you did to me, Twilight Sparkle, was steal my heart. As far as I'm concerned, that overrides everything else. We walk away from this together, or not at all."

"I... yeah." Twilight took a deep breath. "Together. Always."

"Energy Transfer Accepted," Sunset's HUD read, as both she and Twilight yelled aloud, and poured on the pressure.

Fire swirled around the violet cone, and when that fire hit the spectral, combining with Twilight's energy, it was no contest. Twilight's kick, with Sunset trailing behind, drove the monster loudly crashing down, making a deafening crater on impact.

The smoke cleared. Twilight and Sunset staggered to their feet, bereft of armor. All that was left of the spectral was a pile of metal scraps and shards. The compact lay on the ground, beeping, showing a massive level of drained and stored magical power. All was quiet.

The two fell against each other, sitting on their heels and embracing, whooping for joy with what little energy they had left.

"Yes!" Twilight squealed. "We just beat an otherworldly magical being beyond which the universe has ever seen! Science!" She pumped a fist into the air.

"And it only cost one city," Sunset said. "And probably our reputations across two worlds."

Twilight rolled her eyes. "Yeah, all of that's going to take a while to mend."

Sunset nodded. "I can probably smooth things over with Equestria's ruling class, but what about you?"

"Oh, SSRC and I are probably totally done. And I wouldn't be able to blame them, either." Twilight sighed, and stayed silent for a long while, before finally saying, "I guess it's finally time."

Sunset blinked. "Time for what?"

"Oh," Twilight shrugged, "I've had some top-secret patents I've been sitting on for the last couple of years. Guess it's time to finally leverage them and go full entrepreneur."

Sunset raised her eyebrows. "What kind of patents?"

"Oh, you know. Quality of life stuff. You remember how you kept talking about weather experiments in Equestria?"

"Yeah?"

"Decided to give them a try on this side of things. Just as a side hobby. And then I figured out how to... y'know. Make weather. On command. That kind of thing."

Sunset gaped... then relaxed. "Okay, officially proposing a Rule #2: no more secrets. Between either of us. No matter how cool the surprise factor."

Twilight giggled. "Yeah. Those are starting to become overrated. I'll show you the other inventions as soon as we're back home. Wherever that ends up being."

"Good." Sunset's eyes shimmered, and the corner of her lip curled into a smile. "So, how long until we try your experiment again?"

"What?" Twilight did a double-take. "Are you crazy?"

Sunset laughed. "Well, maybe. But, speaking as someone who's been hopping between worlds for years now, you weren't wrong about the potential. If we can combine your world's tech and our magic, and make it not be, well, the thing we just fought..." She placed her hands on her fiancée's shoulders. "What I'm trying to say is that I believe in you, Twilight. And even more, I believe in us."

Slowly, Twilight's lips matched Sunset's. "Then we'll just have to keep trying, with lessons learned, until we get it right. Maybe we'll learn a new lesson about ourselves each time, too. For now, well..." Twilight's expression turned pensive. "I've been batting around names for my company for a while now. Off the cuff: what do you think of 'Northstar Technologies?'"

"Sounds great to me," Sunset said. "Symbolic, and stuff."

"I thought so, too," Twilight replied softly, bringing her face close. "We'll guide our worlds to better days yet... as well as each other."

The two shared a kiss among the rubble.

And now, more than ever, Sunset was sure she'd done the right thing.