Taking Back Canterlot

by Coyote de La Mancha

Rating: teen
Tags: Gore, Apple Bloom, Dark, Alternate Universe, Equestria Girls, Sex, Suicide / Self Harm, Tragedy, Main 7 (EqG), Profanity, Adventure, Shining Armor, Violence, Crossover, Death, Human, Narcotics
Length: 65851

Three years after the Sirens' gang war, Twilight wakes from her coma and begins retaking her city from the new gangs infesting Canterlot.

Once, they were students. And friends. And, with their otherworldly magic, occasionally heroes.

Then, the Sirens came back. Feasting on the gang war they had created, the sisters’ power quickly became almost unstoppable. In the face of such a threat, the power of friendship didn’t seem to be enough. So, with Sunset leading the way, the Rainbooms ultimately decided to fight fire with fire.

Every step of the way, Twilight told herself they were only doing what they had to do. Even when people died. Even while she felt herself changing. Right up until a friend tried to kill her by blowing up the boat she was on.

Now, three years later, Twilight Sparkle awakens from her coma in a prison infirmary. And while she’s been down, Canterlot’s gotten even worse.

It’s time to take it back.

This is Season One of what will ultimately be a two-season story. And never fear, gentle readers, I do not believe in leaving a tale forever incomplete.

(Content note: I think this story is going to be a bit darker than I normally write. Not grimdark, by any means, but this is a dystopian near future. So... darker.)

In the Author’s Notes of each chapter there is a link to a different song, from which the chapter’s name is derived. If this were a video series, those songs would be the music playing over a given episode’s ending credits.

If you like my writing, feel free to explore my other stories and continuities. I assure you, it only gets more cheerful from here.

Finally, this story was inspired by a tale started by MurderosLordofEdgetopia called Saintly. Hopefully they will be able to finish that tale someday, because it was going in a very different direction than mine and I really want to read the rest of it.

ADDENDUM: Fittingly enough, this story was first featured on 4/20, 2024.

It has also been featured multiple times since. Thank you all so much! :twilightsmile:

Published 2019-04-16 15:10:01 UTC
Last updated 2025-01-18 06:36:03 UTC

Episode 1. Prologue: Bowels of the Devil.

She was floating between consciousness and unconsciousness, slowly making her way to the surface of her mind. Her memories drifted in and out, blending unevenly with what she could hear of her surroundings.

How’s the patient…?

I’m Rich Hues... it’s an honor to meet the young lady who handed me the election…

Seeing as how she’s still breathing after being caught in a massive explosion, I’d say pretty good…

No need to be modest… I’m serious... there’s no way I could have beaten Martial Law if it had ever come to a vote, God rest his soul...

Coming through… what happened… shanking… put her over there…

But you made the impossible happen… and for that, I can’t thank you enough…

Has she said anything yet… not yet, but she’s barely regained consciousness…

I mean, if Martial had been the only person killed, attention would definitely have been cast on me…

All vital signs are normal... all things considered...

But after that little fireworks display you pulled at his funeral… it’s become abundantly clear that all these horrible crimes were perpetrated by the Rainbooms…

Be careful, Doctor… You patient’s dangerous…

You know, I have found that as you get older, you realize there are only two kinds of people in this world… chromism, gender, money, none of it matters…

You got anything you wanna say to the judge, you’d better start thinkin’ of it now…

You’re either a winner, or a loser… and now, in order for me to stay a winner, it’s time for me to salt the earth, starting with you…

You’re wasting your time… c’mon, let’s go call the warden, he’ll probably want to get ahold of Armor…

You’re going to die here, little girl… but if it makes you feel any better, I’ll make sure to thank you in my acceptance speech…

As her mind continued to clear, she remembered smiling as his goons surrounded her. They’d thought she was helpless, their guns hadn’t even been out. She remembered thinking, This will be easy. One last clean sweep, and then the war would have been over. The city of Canterlot would have belonged to the Rainbooms. We can rebuild, she remembered thinking. Bury the now-avenged dead, let the people get on with their lives.

Then, she’d seen the silhouette by the harbor. A female form, indistinct in the mist and the darkness. Long hair waving in the wind as the shadow had slumped, shoulders telling a novel’s worth of sorrow and regret.

The figure had held something in her hand. A box, with an antenna.

Hues in front of her, still talking. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a party to—

She remembered seeing Rich Hues’ eyes widen as they both beard the telltale beep of the bomb’s receiver. She remembered reflexively hurling herself away from the boat in an aura of violet, even as the detonation engulfed her in fire and death.

Twilight Sparkle opened her eyes.

Sorting out what she’d overheard, it was obvious where she was. But even if that hadn’t been enough, the dirty white ceiling tiles and cheap walls, the IV in her arm and the orange jumpsuit she wore – not to mention the smell – were all enough to bring her up to speed.

She was in a prison infirmary. She had obviously been deemed too dangerous to keep in a normal hospital. She’d known gangsters who would have grinned at the thought, taking the assessment as a high compliment.

But then, she’d known a lot of stupid people in her time.

From the other side of a dividing curtain, a girl’s excited voice drawled, “Hey, is it really you?”

Twilight’s brow furrowed in irritation. There was literally no one on the entire planet you could ask that of and not get an affirmative answer. But the voice sounded familiar - for all that she couldn’t place it yet - and too young to be there. So instead of responding immediately, she shifted her gaze to her right, towards the sound.

That small movement was almost all she could do. Whatever they had her strapped down with kept her from moving almost at all. Apparently, whoever was running things knew who they were dealing with.

Or at least, they thought they did.

The curtain was jerked away to reveal a teenaged girl with bright yellow skin and red hair, surmounted by a deep purple bow. Twilight frowned, then stared.

“Apple Bloom?” Her voice was almost a croak from disuse.

The girl nodded. “Uh-huh. Listen, my sister told me all about what y’all were doin’ back when, when she was runnin’ with you. But I ain’t th’ only one that knows; half the guards’re takin’ bets to see who gets to you first, them or the convicts.”

Apple Bloom glanced over her shoulder at the doors for a moment, then back to Twilight. “We gotta get you outta here!”

Twilight stared back at the ceiling. “No,” she said.

“What?”

“I said no,” Twilight repeated. She swallowed against her drying throat, then, “There is no ‘we’ in this equation. ‘We’ aren’t doing anything.”

“But—”

Twilight shook her head, still looking up. “Apple Bloom, the Rainbooms started out trying to help people. Hell, we started out making music.

“Then the Sirens came back somehow, each one in control of a different gang. I mean, they took over the town almost literally overnight. They set their gangs fighting each other in the streets along with anyone else who opposed them, feeding off the results.”

“I remember the Dazzlings.”

“Right. So, we faced them again. Except this time, it was different,” Twilight went on. “They weren’t just using their music. They’d already gained so much power from the gang war, their voices could kill. And as their gangs kept getting bigger, their magic’s reach kept getting longer. The city kept getting more corrupt, more hopeless. Then the state. And then farther. And the fight just kept getting dirtier, while they got stronger.

“When they blew up the school, we started getting followers. Students who had survived, family members of those who hadn’t. Even some faculty. With their help, we were able to use the social decay to our advantage, get ordinance to match the other gangs. We took over their operations in-town. We took them down, one by one. And we…”

She took a deep breath. “We killed the Sirens,” she said quietly. “We killed them. Them, and... a lot of other people along the way.”

“But I know all that!” Apple Bloom exclaimed. “I tol’ja, Applejack tol’ me all about what was goin’ on, right up until...” her voice trailed off.

Twilight stared at her. “And you want to be part of that? Are you fucking insane?”

“We’re all part of that now, whether we wanna be or not!” Apple Bloom insisted. “You don’t know what it’s like in Canterlot now. Do you even know how long you’ve been out?”

“Well, obviously longer than I think, if you’re asking me that.”

“You’ve been in a coma for over three years,” the younger girl said. “An’ everythin’s just gone more an’ more downhill. The cops’re just another gang now, an’ they’re not th’ only one. An’ it ain’t just here, it’s all over, but this here’s where the worst of it started…”

Twilight sighed, closing her eyes. She remembered when she and her fellow Rainbooms had discussed options after the school had been destroyed. Sunset had been the loudest voice in favor of armed retaliation, backed by Applejack and Rainbow Dash. Fluttershy had been the loudest against, backed by Rarity and Pinkie. Twilight, the swing vote, had stood with Fluttershy… until days later, walking the streets in broad daylight, when she’d gotten caught in a crossfire between the Sirens’ three gangs.

She’d been lucky to survive. And when she’d healed up, she’d changed her vote, becoming one of Sunset’s three lieutenants in the Rainbooms gang. They’d taken on everyone in a three-on-one war – four-on-one, if you counted the police – and ultimately, they’d come out on top. At least, those who’d still been alive had.

And… damn it, after all was said and accounted for, she’d been good at the G-life. Never in her life had Twilight felt so powerful, and yet so in-control, as those days. By the time she was running the Rainbooms herself, she’d finally stopped having nightmares about Midnight Sparkle. She’d finally come to peace with her darkness as much as her light.

When it came right down to it, could she quit the Life? Did she even really want to?

She didn’t know. But she could at least hit the pause button while she figured it out. And that meant not dragging AJ’s kid sister into her gangster shit while she did.

“No,” Twilight said again. Her voice was better now, but still raspy. “You don’t know how bad this can get. And I’m sure as hell not showing you.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Apple Bloom demanded. “You do remember my sister, right?”

“Yes,” Twilight said, squeezing her eyes shut at the memories. “I remember her.”

“Well, what then? You don’t trust me? I mean, I got myself shanked just to get in here to talk to you! Doesn’t that show I’m loyal?”

Twilight’s eyebrows raised slightly as she flickered her gaze to the younger girl.

“Being an Apple means you’re loyal,” she said. “Being here just means you’re stupid enough to get stabbed.”

“An’ y’all did notice I’m already in prison, right?”

“Not a mark in your favor. Or mine.” Twilight closed her eyes. “The answer is no.”

There was a long pause. Then:

“Twilight,” Apple Bloom’s voice was barely a whisper. “Twilight, the farm’s gone.”

Twilight’s eyes snapped open. “What?”

Apple Bloom’s eyes were full of tears, but her voice was steady and low as she went on, “Razed. Burnt to th’ ground. Applejack had said t’stay outta town, ‘til things got better. An’ we did. But then the cops came by...”

Twilight’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

The girl went on, “Granny tried ta send ‘em packin’ with a shotgun, an’ they shot her fulla holes. Big Mac come a’runnin’ when he heard the shots, an’ they just kept shootin’ him, even after he was down…”

“Alright,” the purple girl said. Her eyes were hard.

“Twilight, I ain’t got nuthin’ left…”

“I said okay,” Twilight repeated, still staring at the ceiling. “You’re right. We’re doing this.” She took a steadying breath, her mind working frantically. “Okay. Apple Bloom. How well do you know the layout of this place?”

“Pretty well,” Apple Bloom said, wiping tears away with a fist. “We’re on an island about five miles off the coast. They got boats on the south side. I can get us there.”

“Then you’re navigator.” Twilight considered, then, “Listen, I know you can shoot, but...”

“My docs got blue laces,” Apple Bloom said, her eyes grim. “Don’t you worry ‘bout me.”

“Well, when we get out of here, you’re changing them to purple,” Twilight said. “I’ve got a brother, too.”

Apple Bloom nodded again. “Fair ‘nuff.”

“Okay, step one,” Twilight said, calculating quickly, “undo my restraints.”

For the first time, Apple Bloom seemed hesitant. “Um, Twilight?”

“What?”

“You ain’t got no restraints.”

Twilight blinked, then sighed. Of course, she thought. Years in a coma. What was I expecting?

“Okay, that’s fine. We can still do this,” she said. “But we’ll need to move fast. When Shining finds out I’m awake, he’ll just make this harder. So you follow my lead. And remember, no unnecessary killing.”

Apple Bloom frowned. “Um, y’know these here’re prison guards, right? They ain’t exactly the good guys.”

Twilight looked sideways at her. “You’re either in the Rainbooms, or you’re out.”

“But—”

“No buts. Some of these people will have families. We’re being civilized about this. And that means getting out quiet, with minimum bloodshed. Understood?”

Apple Bloom looked down. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. With any luck, the alarm won’t even sound until we’re already out of here.”

Just then, the door opened, admitting a grey-skinned man with short black hair and beard. He wasn’t tall, but he was broad in the shoulders, and he wore a white lab coat.

“Lie back down!” the doctor snapped at Apple Bloom. “You can’t be that hurt if you’re talking.” He reached out, jerked the curtain back into place. “Anything else out of you, I’m sending you back to GP as-is. Understood?”

Then, he walked over to where Twilight was. “Well, you seem alert,” he nodded. “Good enough to stand trial, anyway. You just keep quiet, I’ll have this little bitch out of here in a few minutes.”

Twilight calculated the odds that her control was enough, after years of inaction, to render the the doctor unconscious without killing or crippling him. She concluded that they were probably close to zero. The odds of Apple Bloom subduing him while unarmed, with even a relatively superficial abdominal wound, also seemed poor. Apple Bloom had always been a scrapper, but he probably outweighed her by a good hundred pounds.

As the grey man walked to the other side of the curtain, Twilight spoke.

“Doctor,” she said, “please step away from the girl. Then lie down on the floor, and put your hands behind your head with your ankles crossed.”

Twilight could hear Apple Bloom’s jumpsuit being unzipped, hear the girl’s hiss of pain as the doctor examined her wound.

“Oh, shut up, you’re not hurt,” he said. “I’ll stitch you up now. Guards’ll be here in just a minute to escort you back to your cell.”

Inwardly, Twilight shrugged. Oh, well.

First, she withdrew the IV from her arm in a light violet glow, letting it fall to the side of her bed with a gentle plink. Then, she enveloped her will around herself, raising her useless body up in an aura of purple and amethyst. With a thought, she tore the curtain away as the doctor whipped his head around and stared at her in disbelief.

“Step away,” Twilight rasped. She floated above the other two like a starving ghost, limbs dangling, head lolling to one side. Hopefully, the physician would be frightened into compliance. “Hands up, and lie down on the floor. Now.”

Staggering back, the grey man fumbled at his coat, quickly bringing a revolver to bear and firing wild, emptying his weapon at the levitating woman before him. Twilight was able to deflect the worst of it, but two of the bullets tore into her emaciated legs.

Twilight grunted in pain. That was harder than it should have been, she thought. My magic’s gotten rustier than I thought.

And then, immediately following on that thought’s heels, Wait, since when do they arm physicians?

Then, she renewed her focus. She drew the pain in, focusing it into more power as she glared at her assailant.

Throughout the prison, an alarm sounded.

The white-coated man flew over Apple Bloom and slammed into the far wall beside the door, spread-eagled and helpless, his gun dropping from his hand. Meanwhile, blood ran freely down both Twilight’s legs, soaking into her socks, dripping to the floor.

Apple Bloom stared, her thoughts careening crazily to one of the CMC sleepovers, years ago. The movie of the night had been Fantasia. The three of them had spent close to an hour afterwards, talking about the Night on Bald Mountain scene. None of them had slept that night, keeping all the lights on they could until dawn.

Twilight considered her wide eyes briefly. Either her sister hadn’t quite told her everything, or she just hadn’t believed it all.

The doctor was coughing blood, the left half of his body hanging limp and useless, the left side of his face sagging.

Over the radio on his belt, a voice could be heard: “Shots fired, repeat, shots fired in the west wing...”

“By the way,” Twilight said through gritted teeth. “That thing I just said, about being civilized?”

Blood began to slowly ooze down one of her nostrils, as she flexed her right hand.

The grey man’s torso ducked down like a hand puppet, his waist still pinned to the wall. Then, his head rammed backwards into the concrete with inhuman force. His head burst on impact with a horrible popping sound, blood and brain splashing the wall and part of the ceiling above him. Then, he simply fell. His face crumpled, mask-like and unrecognizable.

“Forget I said that,” Twilight said.

Apple Bloom paled.

Twilight glanced down at her. “Are you still in? This may be your last chance to walk away. No one will ever think less of you if you do, especially me.”

The teenager’s eyes narrowed in determination as she swallowed, then nodded. “I’m in.”

Twilight nodded. “Good. Get his gun and whatever ammo he has, then get behind me. Be quick.” Her eyes glanced back to the door, where they could both hear the sound of running feet approaching.

While Apple Bloom grabbed the revolver and searched the soaking corpse for ammunition, more voices spoke over the radio. Several voices confirmed that the shots had been fired near or in the infirmity, a total of six shots. That there was currently no more gunfire. Then, the dispatcher began giving orders, putting the prison into lockdown, coordinating armed teams to surround the infirmary doors and wait for backup. In the distance, steel portals could be heard, slowly sliding and locking into place.

Then, a new voice broke into the radio. “Dispatch, this is CRT Leader. We are locked and loaded, and headed to the west wing.”

“That’s an affirmative, CRT,” the dispatcher replied. “All units, stand by to support CRT. CR Team Leader, target area is confirmed as the infirmary. Escapee is Twilight Sparkle, charged with the murder of former mayor Martial Law, as well as with multiple counts of first degree murder and police homicide. Suspect’s file also has a note that she is to always be considered armed and very dangerous, regardless of circumstance.”

There was a pause, then the dispatcher spoke again, saying, “Team Leader, do you read me?”

“Loud and clear, Dispatch.”

“Kill that crazy bitch.”

Both women could hear the gritted teeth in the reply, “Roger that.”

Meanwhile, Twilight had been extending her will. All around the room, drawers had opened and trays shifted. Dozens of assorted scalpels and other sharp instruments now arrayed themselves unevenly on the floor, pointed towards her approaching enemies, waiting only for her will to thrust them through the air like arrows of steel.

She glanced back at Apple Bloom. Her expression was not concerned, only grim.

“We’re taking back Canterlot,” she said. “Starting right now.”

Then the doors flew open, and the slaughter began.

Author's Note

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Ending Credits: Bowels of the Devil, by Body Count. (Audio = NSFW)

Episode 2. Prologue: Enter the Dark Side.

Shining Armor blinked and rolled over, focusing his eyes. A long, hard look at the phone on his night stand told him that yes, in fact, it was his phone that had awakened him.

Looking at the number, his frown deepened. He’d missed the call, but only just. He hit redial and held the phone to his ear, his head still resting on the pillow.

“Yes, this is Armor. No, I just called you. What’s...”

He jackknifed up. ”What?!? How long? No, I’m glad you called. Listen,” he started rolling out of bed, “don’t let anyone talk to her, okay? I mean no one. Just keep her in solitary until I can get there--”

Then, he leaped out of bed.

”What the fuck do you mean she’s in the infirmary?!?

Shining put his phone on speaker and threw it on the bed. He dashed around the bedroom, throwing on clothes.

“God damn it, Brass, her file specifically states...!”

“Her file specifically states that she’s a cop killer,” Brass’ voice said. “Everything else aside, you’re lucky I called you at all.”

“Don’t you give me that, you know very goddamn well--” Shining broke off, his eyes widening, as a new sound came over the phone line. “Is that the alarm?”

“Huh, what the...”

”Is that the fucking alarm?!?”

There was the merest pause from Brass, then: “What the fuck?”

“Okay, Brass, listen to me,” Shining Armor was saying as he struggled into his shoes. “We can still salvage this. Just keep everyone out of there. No contact. Do you read me? No contact! I’ll be there in no time--!”

“Sorry, Armor. I’ve got one person down now. Dispatch is already coordinating teams against the escapee.”

”Then have them stand down!” Shining yelled as he grabbed his phone again. In a moment, the front door slammed closed behind him and he was jerking open the door to his car. “Have them secure the area if you want, but don’t go in, don’t engage! That’s a fucking order, Warden Tacks! You hear me? DO NOT ENGAGE HER!”

Shining could almost hear the other man leaning back as he said, “Yeah, Shining, I couldn’t make any of that out. Must be all the background noise.”

The engine roared to life as Shining Armor said through gritted teeth, “God dammit, Brass, listen to me, don’t do this, don’t you fucking do this, not now...”

“Look, Shining, I’m sorry,” Brass Tacks said. “I really am. But you’re not going to be able to save her this time.”

Then the line went dead.

Shining Armor raced down the streets of Canterlot, siren howling, lights blazing through the night. There was a chopper at the station. There was still a chance, however slim.

His tires screamed as he took the corner of Asimov and Ninety-Second, speeding through a race he knew he couldn’t win even as he dialed the station’s number.

“She’s not the one I’m trying to save.”

The water only stung a little as it flowed over her wounds. A few cuts and nicks here and there. Her abdomen, the wound she’d taken to reach Twilight in the first place. And her thigh still ached, of course, from where she’d been shot.

Apple Bloom sighed again as the hot water continued to run along her body. She arched a little bit as she ran her fingers through her long red hair, feeling a few vertebrae slip back into place as she did. The water ran pink in a few places, little rivulets of diluted blood reminding her – along with the pain – that she’d come out the other side alive.

Then, reluctantly, she shut the water off and opened the curtain, stepping out onto a soft fluffy mat as she grabbed a large towel. She hissed a little as she dabbed her injuries dry, though only the bullet wound was really bad. And even then, she’d been able to dig the dang thing out without too much trouble. She really couldn’t complain.

She glanced at the white, thick towel in her hands, turned pink here and there from her ministrations.

Comfy towels. Soft floor mats. Hot water.

Such luxuries.

Apple Bloom peeked out the open door again, at the figure nestled in the bed closest to the bathroom.

Still breathing.

Apple Bloom sat on the closed toilet and opened one of the Flormart bags she’d brought with them both when they’d checked in. A camper’s first aid kit, some super glue, rubbing alcohol, and a sewing kit.

She looked dubiously at the sewing kit, then put it aside. She wasn’t adverse if needs be, but she knew she was no Rarity. And right then, needs didn’t seem that bad. So instead, she put the towel in her mouth, pulled her thigh wound open with her fingers, and poured in the alcohol.

Once she’d finished her muffled screams (half expecting her teeth to meet in the towel’s middle while she did, kicking the bathtub the whole time), she opened the super glue and lined the edges of her thigh wound, holding it closed until it stuck. It wasn’t perfect, and it was still swole up, but it would do until she could hire a doc to fix her up proper. Till then, she could limp a little. It was fine.

The worst being over, she peeked in on Twilight again, and then got to work on her other injuries. Finally, she covered everything with some butterfly bandages to help the glue hold the skin in place, and then Band-Aids to cover the bandages.

Her self-ministrations complete, Apple Bloom started walking out of the bathroom, then stopped and smiled. She turned and picked up another large towel and wrapped it around herself. Then, she exited the bathroom, bare yellow feet padding softly in the thick carpet.

Modesty was another luxury she’d missed.

Twilight’s face had gone from a healthy violet to a pale amethyst, the sunkeness of her eyes and cheeks even darker than when Apple Bloom had first seen her. Her hair was limp and lifeless, and underneath the blankets, her body was positively sticklike, her limbs almost fleshless, her bones sticking out like bare branches.

When Apple Bloom had cleaned out Twilight’s leg wounds, the older girl had moaned and shifted, but she hadn’t woke up. The bullets had gone straight through, so Apple Bloom hadn’t had to dig anything out… but Twilight had lost a lot of blood.

Apple Bloom knew she should see a doctor, but as fugitives that was just about impossible.

Now, sitting on the bed next to her, Apple Bloom took a box of diaper wipes from the side table. Gently, tenderly, she started cleaning Twilight’s face again. Some of the blood just wasn’t willing to come off, especially around the nostrils. But Apple Bloom was willing to keep trying. Biting her lower lip, she gently wiped Twilight’s forehead and eyes.

“C’mon, Twilight,” she whispered. “Please be okay.”

Twilight winced, then frowned, taking in a long, slow breath.

“Sunny, what time is it,” she mumbled. “S’too early.”

Apple Bloom’s breath caught in her throat. “No, Twilight, it’s me,” she said. “You remember?”

Twilight’s eyes fluttered half-open, tried to focus.

“Apple Bloom?”

Apple Bloom nodded, relief flooding through her. “Uh-huh.”

Twilight glanced around her a little. “We made it.”

“Yup.” Apple Bloom “How you feelin’?”

Twilight Sparkle tried for a moment to move her arms under the weight of the blankets, and found it impossible. Then, she gave a weak smile.

“Well,” she said faintly, “I used to feel… with my hands...”

For a moment, Apple Bloom stared. Then, there were a few barks of half-suppressed mirth, almost like coughs, from each of them. Then, the laughter made its way out, Twilight giggling weakly while Apple Bloom half-laughed, half cried.

Eventually, the moment subsided. Apple Bloom gently moved some of Twilight’s hair out from her face, genuinely smiling for the first time in a long while.

“Seriously, though, I don’t think I’ve ever felt this physically weak,” Twilight said. “It’s like I’ve been hollowed out. I think my body might tremble if it had the energy. But it doesn’t. And my head, Jesus…”

“Want some aspirin?”

“Blood thinner,” Twilight said. “I shouldn’t chance it. Any acetaminophen?”

Apple Bloom shook her head. “Huh-uh. I can getcha some in a little bit, though.”

“You can… wait,” Twilight said, her purple eyes suddenly focused and sharp. “Where are we? How long have I been out?”

“We’re in a Motel 7, an’ you’ve been out for about five or six hours.”

“Five or six hours. Okay, that makes sense. But…”

“But?”

“Look, Apple Bloom… where did we get the money for all this?”

Apple Bloom smiled again, hands clasped in her lap, looking at the ceiling. “Well, y’see…”

By the time they’d reached the prison docks, Twilight’s entire chest, neck, and lower face had been covered in blood. She’d barely gotten on the boat before passing out. Without air cover to worry about, Apple Bloom had just left the boat lights off, and aimed for the city lights across the bay.

Getting to shore had been harder. Even if word hadn’t spread yet, nobody was going to miss two young women in prison jump suits. So, apologizing profusely, Apple Bloom had stripped Twilight out of her jumpsuit… only to discover that, unlike Apple Bloom, she wasn’t wearing any underwear. So, Apple Bloom had left Twilight in her socks, and put her own T-shirt on her. Twilight had lost enough weight that it almost did the trick.

Almost.

For her part, Apple Bloom kept her bra and panties, and her socks and shoes. Then, leaving the boat to idle, she’d taken Twilight and rolled into the water.

Looking back, Apple Bloom thought the scariest part of the whole caper was likely the swim to shore. She knew how to keep someone’s face above water, she could practice a water rescue in a swimming pool just fine… but the bay had waves, sometimes big ones. Several times Apple Bloom had just about panicked, thinking she’d let her unconscious friend drown.

Finally, there was a low place she could climb up, and pull Twilight up after her. The brine had washed all their wounds, but Twilight’s nose was still bleeding, though slower than it had been. Then, Apple Bloom began to walk, one arm around Twilight, carrying her like a drunk friend as best she could.

Of course, it had been impossible to stay completely out of sight. A few cars passed by now and then, even on the minor streets. Eventually, a blue car slowed down and stopped, the driver taking in the sight of them: two young women, scantily clad, one unconscious and bloody.

“Hey,” he said, “You girls need some help?”

Apple Bloom opened her mouth to say, Yeah, we were just mugged, can you help us, but then she saw how he was looking at them. His eyes raked them up and down, taking in their legs, their breasts, the tiny patch of deep purple hair barely visible under the hem of Twilight’s t-shirt.

So instead, she cocked her head and drawled, “Well, I dunno, Sugar, what kinda help you thinkin’ about?”

He smiled. “I dunno, but it could be fun.”

She lowered her head, looked up at him from beneath her red bangs, still smiling. “Oh, Honey, we could so use your help.”

He nodded to Twilight. “What happened to your friend?”

“She didn’t have Daddy’s money,” Apple Bloom pouted. “He can be so mean.” Then she moved her eyes down, back up again. “Think you can help us with that?”

He unlocked the doors, his smile turning hungrier. “I bet we could help each other.”

She started gently loading Twilight into the back seat. “I bet we could.”

“What about her?”

“Oh, she won’t mind, long as she gets her share.”

Apple Bloom got in next to him and snuggled close, giving him a good view as the car started rolling again. She could feel the cold, reassuring metal of the 9mm against her back. She’d had to let the other weapons go, sinking them forever into the bay. It had hurt to lose them, but there was no way she could have concealed them all wearing nothing but her underthings.

But a small automatic, that she could manage.

The street lights glanced off the pale band on the man’s finger. When he’d first stopped, he’d had a gold ring. He started turning the car left, heading towards a small motel.

“Gonna be a hell of a night,” he said.

Apple Bloom smiled as she reached behind her.

“Oh, Sweetie,” she purred, “you have no idea.”

While she had told her story, Apple Bloom had been helping Twilight drink small amounts of Crocaide. Twilight had to admit, even that small amount of food was helping.

Now, she stared at the younger girl, mouth open in sheer delight. “You didn’t!”

Apple Bloom grinned. “I sure did. His gun was in the glove box, so I had the drop on ‘im. Took ‘is wallet an’ told ‘im he had a choice: he could keep the car, or the ring. He picked the ring.”

“Smart man.”

“Not as smart as if he’d kept it on, but yeah. So, I covered you up in the back seat an’ did some emergency shoppin’, then got us here.” She gestured towards a wall. “I parked a ways away, in case th’ car’s deductible is more’n the cops’ finder’s fee. But probably, we got us a car, along with clothes, supplies, an’ a month’s rent paid in advance.”

Twilight frowned. “A month? Apple Bloom, we can’t stay still a week. How long before they start looking for us?”

Apple Bloom shrugged, rising from the bed. “Well, if they were different departments, I’d say a while. Agencies don’t get friendly with each other the way they used to. But since the cops run the prison, they’re likely out in force right now. We’ll need to wait a few days at least, maybe more.”

Twilight stared. “Days? Apple Bloom, you’ve got to go now.”

Apple Bloom whirled to face her. “What? I can’t leave you now!”

“You have to! I can’t believe I was this short-sighted...”

“Twilight--”

“If they find you—”

“No!”

“Apple Bloom, Listen to me!”

Apple Bloom stared at Twilight, seething, as the older girl went on, “Look. It’s only a matter of time before they ID us both. The motel manager will rat us out in a heartbeat when we hit the news. I’m a target no matter what, but you still have options. And if you’re going to keep them, you’ve got to be gone before the police get here. You’ve got to leave, now!”

“No, I don’t!” Apple Bloom turned, leaned a hand on the wall. “Dammit, Twilight, I’m tellin’ you, it’s okay!”

“We’re wanted felons for mass murder, and one of us is an invalid! How is this okay?!?”

“I worked out a deal with the manager! So we’re fine, okay? We’re fine!”

“How?” Twilight demanded. “What kind of deal did--?”

Then, she stopped.

“Apple Bloom?”

Apple Bloom stood with her back to Twilight, her arms crossed protectively around herself.

Twilight’s voice was soft. “Apple Bloom?” she said again.

But Apple Bloom just shook her head, refusing to look at her. She went into the kitchenette, and in a few moments the sound of running water could be heard, and then the smell of coffee began to fill the room.

Twilight stared at the ceiling.

“God damn it,” she said.

She closed her eyes in pain.

“God damn it.”

Canterlot Correctional Facility was one of the few island prisons left in the country, only recently brought out of retirement and renovated for modern use. It had never been beautiful, but over a century of neglect, abuse, and water damage had done little to improve the place. A few wings had been added, such as the infirmary wing, planting grey concrete slabs next to dark stone and mortar.

Normally, the place had a dank, musty smell throughout, with a constant undercurrent of unwashed bodies and backed-up sewage. Water ran in rivulets down the walls when it rained, gathering in black pools on the uneven floors and rendering the lowest levels completely unusable for the flooding. But now, it smelled worse than it ever had, its normal odors mixing with the charnel stench of mutilated corpses, gunpowder, and charred flesh.

Police Commissioner Shining Armor walked through the blood-stained halls, hands in his coat pockets, ignoring the stench of death as best he could. All around him, CSI worked like a swarm of hornets, collecting specimens, tagging locations, setting up lasers and taking photographs. All of them whispering, when they spoke at all, the same question, over and over.

How?

The numerous bullet-riddled corpses throughout the prison corridors and yard were not the mystery. Twilight Sparkle hadn’t broken out alone, and whoever was with her had been a crack shot. Apparently they’d raided the armory right after leaving the infirmary, with Sparkle’s accomplice grabbing pistols, shotguns, tear gas, and even an assault rifle. And she’d been incredibly efficient with all of them. More so than any one person had a right to be.

No, the mysteries were in the other deaths.

How? How did a highly-trained team of prison guards die from being crushed together, between the wall behind them and the bullet-proof shield of their Team Lead? How did their fellows die by the dozen immediately after, various sharp objects tearing completely through their bodies with the force of a bomb, yet with no sign of a propellant? How were the barred gates that separated the blocks, however ancient they might have been, forced open?

How, further away from the infirmary, did two pairs of guards come to turn their guns on one another, the bones in their hands and arms shattering in the process, while so many others were simply shot to death? How did the tower guards fall to their deaths as the escapees emerged from the main prison building? How did the prison choppers suddenly crash into vehicle blockades, granting the fugitives an almost clear shot to the pier?

Of course, none of these questions held any mystery for Shining Armor. He knew the answer perfectly well.

As he’d expected, the worst of the carnage was just in front of the infirmary itself. That was where they had clumped together so eagerly, thinking they’d had their prey cornered. Shining was glad for the Vicks he’d smeared under his nose as he made his way past the gore and into the medical room itself. CSI had already been there, of course. And, no doubt, they would present him with their preliminary findings sometime in the morning.

But as he took in the trail of blood drips on the tile floor, and the empty holster on the near-decapitated corpse, he already knew how the slaughter had started. Turning slightly, he observed the still-open infirmary doors. They hung crookedly on their hinges, having been expertly kicked in by large booted feet.

God damn you to Hell, Warden Brass Tacks, he thought.

Still, he couldn’t quite muster any real anger towards the man. Not when the warden’s corpse was mangled along with about thirty others by the piers; part of a desperate, last-ditch effort to stop forces they didn’t understand. But the last remaining prison chopper had hurled itself down from the sky, smashing itself into their midst. Those who’d survived had been machine-gunned down without mercy.

And once they’d reached the boat, the fugitives had simply vanished into the night.

Shining Armor was jolted out of his reverie by the approach of a young rookie, his normally sky blue countenance looking distinctly green around the gills. The kid had the look of someone who had volunteered to go further in, figuring that since his stomach had just emptied, he had nothing left to lose.

Yeah, Shining thought ruefully, we’re just gonna knock that ‘new’ right off of you, aren’t we?

But out loud, he said, “What you got?”

“We’ve identified the other escapee, sir,” the young man said. He handed the commissioner a manila folder.

Frowning, Shining Armor started leafing through the file. Towards the end, he stopped and stared.

Applejack, he realized. He flipped back to the front page, then shuffled through a few more.

This is her sister!

He stared at the file, then at the bloody trail leading out. Of course, he thought.

Friendship. Honesty.

Loyalty.

Thrusting the papers back into the young man’s hands, he whipped out his phone. A few seconds later, he was speaking.

“Yes, Your honor, I know it’s late... No, this can’t wait until morning... It’s about the Dash hearing, it has to be postponed... I realize that, but these are extreme circumstances... No, ma’am, I’m saying it isn’t safe to hold it at this time... I don’t know how long... Yes, Your Honor, I understand the plaintiff’s rights... Regardless, you need to understand, I cannot guarantee... No, you need to understand, the lives of yourself and everyone else in that courtroom will be in danger... Yes... Yes, of course...”

He took a deep breath, saying, “Yes, Your Honor, I do. I’d just hoped you would listen to reason.” Then, the connection was broken with a quiet, anticlimactic beep.

Sighing, Shining Armor put his phone away. The gods must love fools, he thought. They certainly made a lot of them.

Then, he looked at the far wall, towards the shore line and the city beyond it. He had lied to himself before, he realized, when he’d said he wasn’t trying to protect his sister. He’d raced through the city streets like a maniac, practically forced his pilot into the air at gunpoint. But despite his best efforts, he’d been too late.

Again.

But this time, he told himself, it would be different. This time, he knew where Twilight was going to be, probably even before she did. This time, he would talk to her, make her see reason. And if that didn’t work...

He narrowed his eyes. She would listen to him. She had to.

Just hang on, Twily, he thought. This time, I’m going to save you. From the gangs. From the police.

And if needs be, from yourself.

Author's Note

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Ending Credits: Enter the Dark Side, by Body Count. (Audio = NSFW)

Episode 3. Rainbooms: Evening News.

Click.

The bottom right of the screen showed a name being written in cursive script: Graceful Poise.

Twilight frowned. She recognized that name. Graceful Poise had been an investigative reporter, years ago. Her exposés had been directly responsible for massive prison and mental hospital reform when Twilight had been a little girl. But the studio set distinctly lacked the trappings of anything resembling journalism.

Seated on an overstuffed couch, a woman - obviously Graceful herself - addressed the camera.

“Hello, and welcome to the show. Joining me today is a young lady who has done some amazing things for our community and our city. Please give a warm welcome to Ms. Starlight Glimmer.”

The audience applauded as Starlight waved with a tolerating smile.

“Now, Starlight,” Graceful began, “a lot of liberals out there...”

Graceful was interrupted by a mass of boos from the audience, which she good-naturedly waved down.

“...a lot of liberals out there have been saying that corporations like Carousel have been part of the problem. That they’re destroying Equestria with their attitude of, ‘To hell with the community, the bottom line is all that matters.’”

Starlight’s concerned frown was perfectly placed as she replied, “Actually, I’m glad you brought that up. I have some pictures I would like to show your audience, if you don’t mind.”

While the TV screen scrolled across a blasted wreckage, she went on, “Now, what you’re seeing here is the remains of what was once Canterlot High School, just a few short years ago. After its destruction during that terrible upswing in gang violence, it became a home to the destitute, depraved, and predatory. It was from this wreckage that emerged the notorious Rainbooms, including such violent criminals as Sunset Shimmer, Rainbow Dash, and, of course, Twilight Sparkle.

“Now, Alderman Rich Hues--”

“A great man,” Graceful broke in, “Who was taken from us far too soon--”

Starlight’s eyes narrowed dangerously as she spoke over the hostess’ interruption. ”Alderman Hues had a vision for the city of Canterlot, starting with Canterlot County. A vision in which all of Canterlot was pulled up and away from the depravity of drugs and crime, and into a better future. And we at Carousel couldn’t agree more.

“And that’s why we have spent considerable resources turning this... into this.”

Now the image shifted, showing a massive office building, surrounded by high-rise apartments. They all gleamed in the light, massive monoliths of steel and glass, sterile and perfect. Atop the office building was a sunburst crest, and the word, CAROUSEL.

“Where once there were crack houses, now we have corporate parks,” Starlight smiled contentedly. “Where we once had criminals, now we have police on patrol. This is our vision, inspired not only by Rich Hues, but by everyone who died at Canterlot High as well... especially Principle Celestia, who as we all know heroically defended her students against the criminal element--”

Click.

“The kids who are buying this hip-hop, they’re from good families but they hear this over and over again... popular culture becomes a cesspool and the music corporations profit off of it...”

Click.

“…and the ones who know about the programs are the ones who get the money…!”

Click.

Now the television displayed some kind of news program. At least, Twilight guessed it was supposed to be. Two men who obviously knew one another - one probably a guest on the other’s show - arguing about whatever they thought would be sensationalist enough to attract viewers.

It had all the hallmarks of a comfortable disagreement carried from one subject to another, depending on what was topical. For an instant, Twilight’s hand twitched over the remote as if to change the channel again. But then her eyes focused on the image of Shining Armor in the background.

Below the studio image, a banner read, Gangster Chief of Police. And under it, in smaller letters, Cop or Criminal?

“But he’s a hero!” one of them exclaimed.

Twilight frowned, and turned the volume up slightly.

The younger of the two shook his head. “I’m not saying he’s not. But he was running with the Rainbooms a long time—”

“Do you not understand what ‘undercover cop’ even means? His evidence was instrumental in bringing down the gang once and for all!”

“Sure, sure, but his sister’s their leader. And now she’s escaped, current whereabouts unknown, and we’re supposed to believe that’s just a coincidence? There are a lot of people who are very skeptical of Armor’s credentials, and I for one don’t blame them! Just what are the cops even doing about this?”

“What do you expect them to do? They’re not miracle workers! The city is huge, and they’ve got their hands full just dealing with today’s gang violence--!”

“Gang violence which he once helped encourage--!”

“He was under cover! But what your side will never understand is--!”

“And now things are worse than ever! Bad enough we’ve got three new gangs warring across the city, that same violence is also being committed by our own police force--!”

Leaning forward, the elder of the two demanded, “Are you saying you want Rainbow Dash back on the street?!?”

Twilight blinked.

Rainbow Dash?

Unfortunately, the program chose that moment for a commercial break. By the time the debate resumed, they showed no interest in returning to Twilight’s friend and former lieutenant, instead arguing about the viability of her brother’s future in politics. Twilight absently turned off the TV, lost in her own thoughts.

Apparently, Shining had never been a cop who was on their side, but rather a cop who had been playing them all along. And apparently he had managed to wrangle his work as a police informant into a promotion, not just to sergeant or detective but to police commissioner.

It was hard to believe. Or, if she was being honest with herself, she just didn’t want to believe it.

But... it made too much sense not to be true. In fact, hadn’t she assumed upon awakening that he would be helping the cops against her...?

She shook the unpleasant thought away. Of far more immediate concern, Rainbow Dash was obviously still alive. Almost certainly incarcerated, the way they were talking, and for a while now.

But a program like that relied upon topical debates to keep viewers engaged. So why would she be enough of a current event to warrant mention, even in passing?

There were a variety of possible reasons, and none of them were good.

The door opened softly. A moment later Apple Bloom entered the motel room, struggling under the weight of several large boxes, an array of plastic bags hanging from her wrists.

“Twilight, far be it for me t’criticize your expertise… but, um,” with a grunt, she closed the door with her foot, “are you sure y’need all this? I mean, this one’s a computer already…”

“That’s just the foundation,” Twilight answered. “The real computer’s what I’m going to build from them all.”

“An’ the extra monitors? Th’ back seat’s full.”

“Absolutely necessary.”

The yellow girl nodded, skootching the boxes around. “Fair ‘nuff. Gonna need help with that?”

Twilight sighed, already feeling exhausted. “I shouldn’t use my telekinesis yet, not after straining myself like I did in our break out. I might do permanent damage, if I haven’t already.”

She looked at her friend apologetically. “I’ll need you to keep being my hands for a while. Sorry.”

“Aw, heck, Twilight. It ain’t nuthin’.”

Smiling her gratitude, Twilight contemplated the array of boxes and bags.

“It looks like you were able to get everything on my list,” she observed. “I’ll admit I’m surprised; I thought the cards would have been cancelled by now.”

Apple Bloom shrugged as she sat on the other bed and started unlacing her sneakers. “Well, I basically did, yeah. You were right, tech’s moved on while you’ve been down. But I told ‘em we were buildin’ the ultimate gamin’ rig, an’ they were happy to help. Everythin’ should be cuttin’ edge.

“As for the cards?” She peeled off her socks. “That kinda thing moves pretty slow these days, an’ really, nobody checks anymore anyway.”

Glancing at Twilight, she added, “You still need me to hit the drugstore?”

Feebly, Twilight shook her head. “That will have to wait. We’ll have to use a compounding pharmacy anyway, maybe a few warehouses. Which means breaking and entering. But there’s been a new development.”

“What kind?”

“Probably nothing good, but I’ll need my computer set up to be certain. Help me to the bathroom, and then we’ll get the assembly started.”

Author's Note

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Ending Credits: Evening News, by Chamillionaire. (Audio = NSFW)

Episode 4. Rainbooms: Killing Strangers.

It was the following day, nearing 2pm. Apple Bloom drove the new car uneasily. The streets were even worse than she’d remembered. She could only imagine what it must have looked like to Twilight.

Mercifully, the theft had gone off without a hitch. There had been several other cars that would have been easier to get, but Twilight had insisted it had to be a ‘high-end smart car,’ whatever that meant. So, now Apple Bloom was maneuvering a brand spankin’ new Evade Warsteed with practiced ease through the busy streets, her identity concealed through expert use of body paint and hair dye. Apparently, Twi’s experience as a cosplayer had its perks.

Neither of them mentioned the fire-headed girl who had gotten her into cosplaying, back in high school. Some ghosts were best left undisturbed.

It was just under ten miles to the courthouse, and in broad daylight. But Apple Bloom had already seen several shootings and a gunfight between the cops and the Children. Which meant something like five people dead in the space of an hour. Twice that many wounded.

And outside of them as got shot, nobody seemed to care.

Ahead, the light turned green. Apple Bloom was able to move around a car’s length before the crash of breaking glass and bending steel from maybe twenty feet ahead overrode everything. Traffic stopped for only a moment. Then the cars started zig-zagging crazily around one another, trying to get past the collision that partially blocked the intersection, sometimes scraping each other as they did.

Apple Bloom half-stood in her vehicle, her upper torso rising out through the driver’s side window, one hand on the roof for support.

“What the hell are you doing?” Twilight’s voice hissed in her ear. “Get down before you attract someone’s attention!”

“Twi, you seein’ this?”

“I see you trying to blow your cover!”

“Ain’t that unusual, what I’m doin’. An’ anyway, eyes ahead.”

Several car lengths ahead of her, it was evident that some unlucky soul had side-swiped a cop car. The driver was on the ground in a fetal position, clutching at his eyes. The cop was kicking him repeatedly in the ribs, mace can still clenched in one hand.

“He’s gonna kill ‘im, Twilight.”

“Apple Bloom, if you get stopped now, or even spotted, the whole plan is ruined!” Apple Bloom could hear the agony in her friend’s voice over the Bluetooth she wore. “This is our only chance to get her out of there!”

In the motel room bed, Twilight lay propped up by multiple pillows, a keyboard in her lap. Various screens surrounded her on chairs and cardboard boxes, showing different scenes that she cycled through with ease. Traffic cameras, news broadcasts, hospital security cameras. On the wall, the TV was tuned to Channel 8 News, showing live coverage from outside the courthouse.

“The hearing starts in three minutes,” Twilight said. “And this is Rainbow Dash. It won’t last long. And I still have to get the rest of the team there!”

Apple Bloom’s voice was crisp and clear over the headset Twilight wore. “I won’t get caught, and it’ll get me there faster.”

Biting her lower lip, Twilight stared at the news channels, the traffic footage, the clock.

“Twilight, I can’t just do nuthin’.”

There was the briefest hesitation, then Twilight nodded, fingers moving rapidly across her keyboard.

“Alright,” she said. “Cameras are off. Do it.”

Apple Bloom leaned on the horn, jerking the wheel and stomping on the accelerator as she did. The Evade swerved into the opposing lane, other vehicles swerving onto the shoulder or even into each other, startled by the sudden move.

“Stay behind the police car,” Twilight warned. “We don’t need you on dash cam.”

“Ain’t my first rodeo, Twi,” Apple Bloom muttered. “I got this.”

The cop car was facing her left, about two-thirds through the intersection. As she rolled up, she could hear the cop shouting as he kicked the man at his feet, “…but, no! You had to go! And fucking hit! My car! You ass-head…!”

Apple Bloom leaned out the window slightly. “Need some help there, sugar?”:

The cop’s head jerked up and he half turned, a snarl already forming on his lips. Then the gun in Apple Bloom’s hand spoke once, and there was a black spot on his forehead, blood oozing from it down his face.

As the cop’s body slumped to its knees, and then over to one side, the beaten man’s family rushed out of the car. A middle-aged woman – probably his wife – grabbed his shoulders while shouting frantic instructions to a pair of teenaged girls to help with his legs, loading him into the passenger seat as quickly as they could.

But by then Apple Bloom was on her way, taking a right and moving onto the bridge, accelerating towards highway speeds.

“All done, Twilight,” she said. “I’m outta range.”

“Cameras on,” Twilight replied. “Let’s hope no one noticed.”

“Had to be done, Twi.”

“No, it didn’t. But it was the right call. I just hope we didn’t make this a whole lot harder.”

In the courthouse security room, Shining Armor paced, surrounded by police technicians manning a dozen different monitors. When the phone in his hand rang he answered immediately.

“Armor.”

“Sir? We just had a camera outage reported at Wells and forty-sixth. “

“Anything called in?”

“No, sir. And the cameras are back on again. But it looks like we have an officer down.”

“Good work. Get an ambulance there ASAP.”

“Yes, sir.”

Shining Armor hung up and pulled out a radio. When he spoke, his voice was sharp and clear.

“Captain, get your team ready.”

“We’re ready now.”

“Good. Just make sure you keep out of sight until I give the word. Your targets are on their way.”

“Roger that.”

The courthouse was not an ancient structure. It had been built mostly of concrete and white stone, with a kind of courtyard in front and parking in back, the whole surrounded by a short concrete wall surmounted by a high iron fence.

Channel 8 had its van just inside the gate, some newswoman or other giving the customary blather to the camera while she stood on the courthouse steps. Other news vans were parked nearby, their anchors apparently lacking the connections to get quite so close.

There were police everywhere outside, of course, just as there would have been on any day. But with the appeals hearing of Rainbow Dash making such headlines, the place should have been practically swarming with them. Instead, it was as if it were just another day at court. Above, a chopper made lazy circles through the air, the only acknowledgement of additional concern.

The cops hadn’t quite put the word ‘TRAP’ across the building in big neon letters, but they might as well have.

Sighing, Apple Bloom wiped her gun clean and stowed it under the seat, just in case she could reclaim it later. Then, she took a deep breath, got into character, and opened the door.

Throughout the USE, the law had become a Janus, a two-faced guardian of what was and what would be. Always relied upon, but never to be trusted. A servant to whomever could afford its price and a destroyer or anything and anyone who dared defy its power, or even got in its way. Word had it that it was worse in Canterlot than just about anywhere else.

But regardless, the courthouse was its ultimate temple.

Slowly, Apple Bloom mounted the marble stairs towards the giant Roman columns of the building’s cleaner face, a defiler in the house of an unholy god. The pillars looked straight out of the Pantheon. The steel doors behind them looked straight out of a bank. Or a prison.

As she entered, the sudden blast of air conditioning made her blink. Most everything inside was white with sky blue accents, marble, stone, and gold. The floors, the walls, the hall dome. The only exceptions were the wooden pieces: trim around the walls and high ceiling, on the railing of the walkway that circled the hall above, on the circular security station that lay in the hall’s center. All made from fine oak, stained and polished to a dark shine.

Even the security checkpoints, with their metal detectors and x-ray conveyors, were new and pristine. Each one was run by a brand new laptop, colored a pleasing blue grey as if to assure all who entered that this was a place of safety and support, of sanctuary from the storm.

The air smelled mildly of dust and old wood, and below that, of pine oil and bleach. But in the building’s other side was its other face: the jail and the processing center. Apple Bloom knew from firsthand experience that the sights and smells there were very different, indeed.

It wasn’t easy being patient. Old fears she had tried to forget rose again, threatened to strangle her. But Twilight was counting on her. And if she faltered, the law would know she was there... and its priests would not hesitate in her sacrifice.

Slowly, with a deliberate calm, she moved further into their midst.

Outside, the newscast was just wrapping up for a commercial break. Various people were entering and leaving the courthouse: attorneys, people with tickets or tags to pay, even an old woman with a walker, being assisted by a police officer through the heavy steel doors.

“…said by some to be the trial of the century,” the anchorwoman said. “A notorious member of the gang once known as ‘the Rainbooms,’ Rainbow Dash was arrested three years ago during an assassination attempt against then-decorated police officer Shining Armor.

“In the resulting trial, Rainbow Dash was convicted of one count of attempted murder, and a staggering three hundred eighty-seven counts of first degree murder, promptly sending her to death row.”

Gesturing towards a zebra-striped attorney entering behind her, she went on, “Since then, her legal team has been filing appeal after appeal, citing claims of mishandled and fabricated evidence, police perjury, and even challenging the definition of ‘first degree murder’ itself as used during her trial.

“Today marks Dash’s final appeal before her scheduled execution, only days away. In a few short moments, we’ll be allowed back into the courtroom and we’ll find out once and for all if Rainbow Dash will go home a happy woman… or a dead one.

“And now… this.”

There was a moment’s pause while she simply stood, smiling.

“Aaaand, we’re clear,” the cameraman said.

The newswoman slumped slightly, lowering her mic. “Oh, thank God.”

He grinned, lowering his camera. “More action than you can take, huh?”

“Bite me.”

Rundown shook her head, tapping a cigarette from her pack. Lighting up, she said, “I don’t even know what the fuck I did to get this assignment. Trial of the century my ass.”

Blowing out a plume of smoke, she added, “That bitch is guilty as a cat in a goldfish bowl. Everybody knows it. And three days from now, she’s going to fry until her brain looks like one of your mom’s omelets.”

Nat Sound grinned as he accepted the cigarette. “You missed your calling. Shoulda been a poet.”

While he drew off her cig, she rolled her eyes. “My point is, none of this is news. We should be covering the election fraud. Or police violence. Or, fuck, even just the gangs. ”

Crossing her arms, she turned back to look at the courthouse. “Christ, what I’d give for some fucking action.”

In the security room, Shining Armor continued watching the closed circuit screens over the shoulders of the security staff.

Suddenly, he jabbed a finger at one of the screens, exclaiming, “There! That’s her!”

The techie nearest him turned to him in puzzlement. “Sir, that’s an old woman with a walker. Surely you don’t mean—”

But Shining was already talking into the radio.

“Target sighted,” he said. “Station five, with the walker. Remember, subject is considered armed and extremely dangerous. Fast and hard, people.”

While the police mobilized and surrounded the alleged senior citizen, he had to shake his head a little in regret.

He’d known there was no way that Twilight was going to be up to breaking out Rainbow Dash in person. But just as obviously, there was no way she wouldn’t try a break-out while Dash was away from maximum security. Which meant relying on her new accomplice, Apple Bloom.

A young woman who, being herself a wanted fugitive, would have to enter incognito. And, being both young and inexperienced in such things outside of a few high school plays, she would have to play a role she was intimately familiar with.

An old woman with green skin and white hair, on a walker. Of course Apple Bloom would try to fool the police in the guise of her grandmother. She would think it was the perfect cover, both clever and ironic. And Twilight would have helped with the makeup, perfecting the disguise.

In a way, he’d almost been hoping Twilight would try something else. The choice was obvious, once you read Apple Bloom’s files. But after three years in a coma, plus the strain of their prison break, he supposed some damage was to be expected.

Shining Armor pushed the thought away with a shudder. Bad enough she’d fallen as much as she had. Loss of intellect was something he wished on no one, especially his little sister.

Then, watching the screen, he frowned.

“SWAT team, stay on alert,” he said into the radio. “Something’s wrong.”

When the officers had grabbed the green woman, all pretense of being aged or infirm had vanished at once. Screaming and cursing, she’d swung at several of them even as she was borne down. Now, there were five officers trying to secure various limbs – and one with an arm around her throat – with two more nearby holding Tasers and a SWAT team running in with shotguns.

After the initial shock had worn away, most of the other civilians had gone about their business – though certainly keeping their distance from the fracas – or simply pulled out cell phones and started recording. But a few had been in mid-process when the melee had started, and were waiting to finish being cleared to enter the courthouse proper.

Among these last was a woman in a tan skirt and blazer, with black-and-white striped skin and grey hair streaked with white.

“Is this going to take a while?” she asked. “I have clients awaiting trial.”

The red-skinned cop who had been clearing her glanced away briefly from the dogpile to consider her: high heels, business suit, briefcase. He shrugged. She’d already been through the detectors, and the case just had pens and folders.

He handed over her briefcase from the conveyor. “Yeah, you’re fine. Just stay out of trouble.”

“Thank you. Will do.”

He watched her as she approached the stairs towards the courtrooms with mild irritation. Stripy bitch. He hated it when they rhymed. Then he turned his attention back to the pile of officers on top of the shrieking fugitive. She could clearly be heard from beneath the struggling bodies, screaming, “Let go of my motherfucking neck you motherfucking mother-fuckers…!”

Climbing the stairs, Apple Bloom said quietly, “Well. That sure as hell worked.”

Twilight’s voice came over the Bluetooth clearly as she replied, “I told you they’d be expecting you to go in as Granny Smith.”

“Sure, but couldn’t I have just worn a wig or somethin’ then? If the cops’d frisked me, the paint job wouldn’t have held up.”

“That’s why you went in as a lawyer. Granted, it was a calculated risk having you impersonate Zecora,” Twilight admitted. “Chromism does tend to show an increase during times of unrest and economic stress. But Shining will also be watching the cameras for you or anyone like you. Zacora was the only person you knew well enough to impersonate, who also had a radically different appearance and wouldn’t be in your files.”

“An’ the gal we paid t’dress up like Granny?”

“There’s no law I know of against impersonating the elderly. Granted, she is resisting arrest. And, um, assaulting officers. But she’ll also have the best attorneys we can get her.”

“Uh-huh. An’ how good is that?”

“Well, they used to be the Rainbooms’ lawyers, so pretty good. Which reminds me, they’re defending Rainbow Dash now, so try to keep them alive.”

“No problem.”

“I’m almost ready. Where are you?”

“Top of the stairs.”

“Can you hold that position safely?

“Uh-huh.” Putting her case down by the stairs, Apple Bloom took a small note pad and a greyish pen out of her jacket pockets and began pantomiming as though she were writing.

On the ground floor of the courthouse, the checkpoint cops continued watching their fellows gang-wrestle the woman beneath them into submission. Most were laughing and joking, and a few were making bets. Meanwhile, the laptop at the checkpoint Apple Bloom had gone through continued to quietly load Twilight’s virus. It would have been almost impossible to slip the tiny USB into the laptop’s port without ‘Granny’ as a distraction. Having her jumped by multiple police at once, screaming blue murder the whole time, had made it almost easy.

“Back door is opening,” Twilight said. “Accessing… annnnnnnd, I’m in. Full access pending, but I’ve got cameras. Okay. Take a left, and then another left.”

Apple Bloom began to jog, leaving the case behind. “Movin’.”

“Be quick. SWAT is mobilizing. Shining’s figured out the decoy.”

Over the connection, Apple Bloom could hear the rapid clicking of Twilight’s keyboard.

“They’re partway up the stairs, but they’re being cautious. Especially about your briefcase. You have maybe sixty seconds. Less, once shots are fired.”

Apple Bloom said nothing. Instead, stylus and note pad still in hand, she put on a puzzled look for the female officer leaning against the wall to the right of the door at the end of the hall. To either side of the cop, the corridor branched into a T-intersection, with occasional passers-by far too distracted by their own concerns to spare Apple Bloom a glance as she approached.

“I was told the hearing would be at one,” she said. “Surely it has not already begun?”

The cop half-turned towards the room, opening her mouth to speak, when Apple Bloom leaped forward. The gangster’s arm locked around the other woman’s neck in a choke hold, turning her the rest of the way around.

The officer’s gun was out of its holster when Apple Bloom pressed the penlike device against the cop’s kidney and depressed the button at its top. The powerful spring within shot a four-inch plastic spike into the other woman’s body.

The officer’s limbs flailed for only a moment. Nearby, someone screamed.

Another officer rounded a nearby corner and froze for the barest of instants, taking in the scene before him. The striped woman with a dead cop’s weapon, the body lying at her feet.

Apple Bloom dropped her new target with a single shot, then spun and dropped her second as another cop ran out of the men’s room down the hall, hurriedly stuffing his shirt into his pants. Bystanders in all directions were crouching in terror or had just flung themselves to the ground. Meanwhile, from the stairs behind and below her, Apple Bloom heard a voice call, “Shots fired! Go, go, go!”

“Ten seconds,” Twilight said. “But I have full control… now.”

Every alarm in the ground floor went off at once as the sprinkler system activated with a deluge of water throughout the halls, reducing visibility to maybe five feet… or, if you were wearing a visor, none at all. Almost immediately, footing both upstairs and downstairs became precarious at best. The main hall quickly turned into a vast, shallow pond beneath a continual torrent while every stairway became a waterfall from the rivers that were forming in the hallways above.

Simultaneously, every electronic door locked, even as a series of security gates descended from the ceiling, blocking off both sets of stairs from the entry hall and dividing the building into smaller sections along the corridors. The SWAT team found themselves sealed between the stairs and another gate, barring them from the courtrooms.

And finally, police communication became impossible, every radio and earpiece suddenly being jammed. Officers and civilians alike had to scream to be heard by those nearby. Panic and pandemonium began to take hold throughout the building.

And through it all, Shining Armor could only watch with growing frustration as, one by one, every screen in the security room turned purple, and began drawing a golden horseshoe flying upwards, trailing a rainbow like a comet’s tail.

The Rainbooms’ gang tag.

Back on the second floor, Apple Bloom could hear the grin in Twilight’s voice as she added, “And now all of their systems… are belong to me.”

Apple Bloom grinned, as well. “For great justice,” she said. Then she focused back on the matter at hand. She gave the cop on the other side enough time to approach, and then she kicked down the courtroom door.

Author's Note

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Ending Credits: Killing Strangers, by Marilyn Manson. (Audio = NSFW)

Episode 5. Rainbooms: Big Bad Wolf.

Canterlot City Municipal Courtroom 86 was a simple and relatively small room. It was decorated in sensible browns with a blue carpet, and reliable, soft furniture provided a friendly environment.

Judge Balance Pan considered herself a reasonable person. Hard, but fair, and certainly willing to compromise once it was earned. She had been well aware that there would be a media circus outside her court that day, and she’d been ready for the police commissioner to overreact to the recent prison break with overreaching additions to the building’s security… especially after his absurd phone call at no o’clock in the damn morning.

What she hadn’t been ready for was for the defendant to be wheeled into her courtroom on a mechanized two-wheeler like Hannibal For God’s Sake Lector, secured with steel straps keyed to a voice lock, flanked by two shotgun-toting SWAT officers and a pair of almost identical attorneys in pinstriped suits.

She glanced at the court reporter, then raised an eyebrow at the small group of circus turns invading her court. Mercifully, there were no civilian spectators. Once the usual court preliminaries were out of the way, defense started in immediately.

“Your Honor…”

She regarded the speaker – a yellow man with a red handlebar mustache – with the exact degree of disapproval due to anyone foolish enough to rush things in her court.

“I take it you are counsel for the defence?” she asked.

“Yes, Your Honor,” he nodded, straightening his tie. “We both are. Flim and Flam, attorneys at law.”

“I see. And I take it you already have an objection?”

“We do, Your Honor,” his brother answered, also stepping forward. “Defense objects to this Hollywood armed camp attitude towards our client. This is blatant overkill, and obviously intended to intimidate our client and sway Your Honor against her appeal by portraying her as some kind of B-movie monster.”

“Your client, who is innocent, I take it?” the judge asked in the same voice.

“She’s a lamb, your honor,” said the mustached one.

“Of course she is.” Having satisfied herself with the exact grade of slime the pair oozed, she turned back to the district attorney.

“All other considerations aside, where it comes to the restraints I am inclined to agree,” she said. “Do you believe you can offer any justification for this rigmarole?”

“Yes, Your Honor, I believe I can,” the purple man replied, handing her a thick folder. Frowning, the judge accepted the folder. The SWAT escort remained monolithic, unmoving in their armor, as the Flim Flam Brothers exchanged a worried glance.

Meanwhile, the Judge leafed through the folder, her frown continuing to deepen as her hands slowed their motions, her reading becoming more careful. Finally, she looked up again, her stony countenance stained with incredulity.

“Three hundred. And eighty-seven. Murders,” she said. “All of them murder in the first degree.”

“With respect, Your Honor, Miss Dash’s charges are not relevant to our objections to her inhumane treatment,” said Flim.

“Especially since we can demonstrate numerous improprieties regarding not only the court proceedings but the investigation leading to it,” Flam added hastily.

From within her restraints, Rainbow Dash shrugged. “Besides, I figure with the statute of limitations, it should really be closer to two-fifty.”

There was a moment of stunned silence. Then, the gavel came down, sharp and loud.

“There’s no statute of limitations for murder!” the judge shouted.

“Well, why the fuck not?”

While all three attorneys stared in impotent horror, the judge’s eyes narrowed in barely contained anger.

“Watch yourself, Miss Dash,” she growled.

“Or what?” the blue woman demanded. “Three hundred counts of first degree murder? I mean, come on. Even an idiot can tell I’m being railroaded! I’m looking at the chair and you’re gonna what, hold me in contempt?”

Again, the gavel came down.

“I am inclined to give you the benefit of the doubt during these proceedings,” the judge seethed, “but I advise you not to try my patience!”

“Yeah, I know! If you don’t like me, you’ll just let me die!” Rainbow Dash yelled. “Thanks for the warning! Congratulations, you’re the most honest crooked asshole here! What do you want, a fucking cookie? Fuck off!”

Rising to a half-standing position, Judge Pan heard herself shouting, “I’m genuinely curious if you can maintain your rebel attitude while two thousand volts are running through your body!”

Rainbow Dash, straining against her restraints, screamed, “And I’m genuinely curious if you can keep being a douchebag when I bury my foot up your FUCKING ASS!”

Both brothers cried in unison, “My client would like that stricken from the record!”

Ignoring the lawyers, judge and prisoner both opened their mouths to shout over each other when gunfire erupted in the hallway. Immediately, both SWAT officers aimed their shotguns at Rainbow Dash’s head. While she blew her bangs away from her eyes, the bailiff crept towards the door in a crouch, gun drawn.

Suddenly, the door burst inward, flying off its hinges and into the face of the bailiff. Even as the zebra-striped girl rolled into the courtroom the guards were firing, gouging massive holes into the spectator pews she had hidden behind.

“What in the hell--?” the judge began, even as the crouching girl screamed the phrase from her earbud:

“Strawberry albatross!”

The tinnitus caused from firing their weapons caused a slight delay in the SWAT officers’ ability to hear the telltale hiss of Rainbow Dash’s magnetic restraints deactivating. Later, they would blame that for their failure to prevent her escape. It would look good in their report, a combination of accountability and diligence to duty.

But in reality, they had lost any possible control of their prisoner the moment Apple Bloom had spoken.

The instant that its programmed code phrase had registered in the small computer near the base of Rainbow’s back, the flow of electricity in her restraint system had ceased. Now, the blue woman’s body blurred in a rainbow of color as she wriggled out of the loosening bonds at super speed, the act of forcing the magnetic straps back generating the hissing sound the guards were finally hearing.

From Rainbow Dash blurring into motion to her guards’ responding to her took almost three seconds. Three long, slow seconds. It might as well have been days.

It had been years since Rainbow Dash had used her magic. Moving faster always made time go slower, after all. At least, that’s how it seemed to her. And once she’d established that she could not escape her seven foot cell by using her powers, more time was the last thing she’d wanted.

But now, watching her captors slowly begin to turn towards her, seeing their faces slowly shift as they realized what had happened, it was just like old times again.

God, but that felt good!

Once out of her bonds, she stood almost still, vibrating in a rainbow blur as she took in the scene. Yeah, that was definitely Apple Bloom under all that body paint. Holy crap. And while she couldn’t tell for sure, it looked like there was movement in the hall, too. Figures moving in the… fog? No. No, that was the sprinkler system. And she could hear the alarms slowly grinding away somewhere downstairs, but nothing on this floor, just like the sprinklers hadn’t activated in this one room.

She grinned. Twilight. It had to be Twilight. Twilight had finally woke up, and teamed up with Apple Bloom. And now, the two of them had broken her out.

Rainbooms, back in action at last.

Awwwww, yeah.

But, first things first.

Refocusing on her two guards, she saw they were about halfway turned, and so might start firing any second. That was a problem. Even when she’d been in practice, dodging bullets had always been a risky business. It was always better to dodge the shooter than the bullets they’d send after you.

And, of course, they weren’t necessarily the bad guys. If they’d been prison guards, there would have been no question. Three years in solitary had taught Rainbow Dash that there was no life form lower than a prison screw. But these were just cops. Maybe dirty, maybe not.

Inwardly, she sighed.

Dammit.

Then, she started to really move again.

Stepping forward, she shoved both shotguns upwards, letting their next discharge blast into the ceiling. Then, she jerked their lead hands off the pumps and smacked their face plates with their own weapons.

Mercifully, they were both stunned enough that their grips relaxed, and she removed their fingers from the triggers and took the guns for herself. Uncoiling a tensed finger and pulling it out from a trigger guard was a delicate business at high speed, and a mistake could tear something off. Relaxed digits were much easier.

Then, leveling both shotguns at their previous owners, she let time flow at its normal rate again.

They stared at her through their cracked visors. Then, each other. Then back to her again.

Behind her, one of the Flim Flam brothers poked his head partway up from behind a heavy table with a quick, “Um, anybody hit and need a lawyer?” before the other brother grabbed him by the collar and pulled him back behind cover.

“Yeah, that’s right,” she smiled, “I’m back. And if I were you guys… I’d run.”

They ran.

Mindful of the open door, Rainbow Dash zipped to where Apple Bloom was, helping her to her feet and handing her one of the captured weapons.

“So, you just had to knock it right off its hinges,” she grinned.

Apple Bloom shrugged. “I was expectin’ a heavier door.”

“Uh-huh. You and your sister. Sorry,” she added with a wince.

“S’okay.”

Rainbow Dash nodded, then turned to the bench. “Hey, judge, you want to get outta here? It sounds like they’re getting past the barriers. This place is gonna start heating up pretty soon—”

“No, don’t,” Apple Bloom interrupted.

Rainbow Dash turned to her with a frown. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t send her out there,” Apple Bloom said urgently. “It ain’t like when you got locked up. Things’ve gotten worse.”

The other woman stared. “How worse?”

As if in answer, a smoking, fist-sized object shot into the room. In a multicolored flash, Rainbow Dash scooped it up and hurled it back into the hall. Less than a second later, a burst of light and sound filled the hall, even as the doorway filled with indiscriminate gunfire. The Flim Flam brothers and the other attorney quickly found themselves huddled behind the judge’s bench, away from the door’s area of vulnerability.

Then, a moment later, the gunfire stopped.

“Oh,” Rainbow Dash said quietly. “That worse.”

Zipping to a position opposite the door from Apple Bloom, Rainbow carefully pulled the unconscious bailiff out from under the door and away from the doorway.

“Hey, judge?” she asked. “You don’t have a gun you’re gonna try to shoot us with or anything, do you?”

“I am unarmed, Miss Dash.”

“Awesome.” Rainbow relieved the court officer of his weapons and deposited him behind the bench with the judge. “You guys stay here and don’t get shot, okay?”

“I give you every assurance that has always been our intention.”

“Perfect.”

Rainbow Dash walked back towards the open doorway, regarding the young lady across from it. Her voice was almost nonchalant as the two of them took up sitting positions to either side of the courtroom’s door, backs to the wall.

“So, Twilight’s awake.”

“Uh-huh.”

The blue woman nodded. “’Bout fuckin’ time. So, how’re we getting out of here?”

Apple Bloom looked uncertainly at the open doorway between them, and the sounds of repositioning armored personnel emerging from beyond it.

“Um, she’s workin’ on that?”

Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes as she hefted one of the captured shotguns. “Of course she is.”

Another volley of gunfire interrupted them, and when it paused Rainbow Dash was kneeling in the doorway in a multicolored burst, firing away. Then, in a burst of light, she was in cover again, waiting out the next hail of bullets.

When it finally stopped, Apple Bloom yelled, “Twilight said t’keep the bloodshed down!”

“They’re shooting at us!”

Apple Bloom nodded. “Yeah, an’ I hear ya! But there’s folks on this floor who ain’t got nuthin’ to do with this. An’ you seen how the cops ain’t gonna be careful! We keep firin’ back an’ forth, somebody that ain’t in this may panic an’ do somethin’ stupid…”

Rainbow Dash sighed, running a hand through her polychrome hair as she lowered her weapon.

“Yeah, okay, point taken. But these fuckers better not get too close.”

Apple Bloom hefted her own shotgun, looking grim.

“Yeah,” she said. “I’m right there with ya.”

Author's Note

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Ending Credits: Big Bad Wolf, by In This Moment. (Audio = NSFW)

Episode 6. Rainbooms: Coma White.

Miles away, Twilight continued typing. Location B’s firewalls hadn’t been a problem, but isolating the vending machine had taken longer than she’d anticipated. She’d managed it in time, of course… but now it looked like someone was aware of her efforts, and was trying to access her system.

She gave the small window showing the other hacker’s progress an exhausted frown, and sent them a few viruses to keep them busy. She didn’t have time for this. She couldn’t expect the girls to hold out forever. And besides, getting their backup to them had a very narrow window, and it was dangerously close to closing.

The staff schedule hadn’t changed, at least. She double-checked the phone number and the personnel data she had. Hallway security showed the subject heading down the hallway, more or less on schedule.

Biting her lower lip, Twilight pulled up the camera in residential room one-zero-one. Everything depended on what happened next.

The Saint Mary of Bethlehem Mental Hospital of Canterlot had never been a well-maintained facility. Funds had always been scant, and corners had always been cut. But in recent years, both the funding and the interest in upkeep had gone from minimalistic to practically nonexistent.

The front lobby was presentable enough, and the light fixtures all worked. Yes, the carpet’s mottled grey pattern seemed a bit darker along those paths of greatest traffic, but that was easily ignored. The Plexiglas windows were clean enough, and the staff were generally friendly to what few visitors there were.

The office area was behind the receptionist’s desk, and also showed the same kind of ‘we’re underfunded but we’re trying’ atmosphere. To the right of the main entrance was the door to an exercise area, the elevators, and a pair of secure doors.

One door led to the kitchens, where the war against various vermin was not so much victorious as well-hidden from the public eye.

The other door led to the residence halls. And it was there that the true face of the hospital could be seen.

As soon as the doors opened, one was hit with the clashing scents of chemical deodorizers and human waste. The carpet was distinctly darker, adding its own musty aroma to the blend of scents wafting throughout the halls.

The walls had lightly padded railings along them at about waist-level, for those who had difficulty walking (many of the patients were senior citizens). Above them, the yellowish-brown walls took a steadily lighter tone until finally blending with the cream-colored ceiling.

Nurse stations were at every floor, unpopulated only during med pass, each a quiet refuge of conversation where the nerve-jarring din of screams and call alarms could be briefly ignored. There were perhaps four to six nurses to a floor most days; one or two to a floor most nights. Doctors made their rounds and returned to their offices, while social workers struggled with anywhere from fifty to a hundred cases each. In the top floor, a computerized dispenser had all but eliminated med pass errors, as well as medications being stolen for resale or personal use.

All the room doors locked automatically, accessible only by key card. And in each room, one or two patients (one never called them inmates) could be found. Alone with their dreams or nightmares, perhaps, or continuing the endless struggle of the lost. Some had not even that, sedated to a point of manageability by staff who were either too tired or too jaded to spend the energy looking for other solutions.

It was easy for problems to fall between the cracks in such a place. And if that problem was a person, then it was the perfect place to make them disappear.

“Two syringes? God damn,” muttered the intern, a tan fellow with deep blue hair.

The nurse beside him, an elderly amber-skinned woman, just shook her head. “After every meal’s clean-up, mornin’, noon, an’ night. Ain’t nothin’ to be done, neither. Poor thing.”

She put the needle into the young woman’s IV and slowly pressed the plunger as she spoke.

“She was one a’them gangsters, if you can believe that. Such a sweet face, too. But I guess she’s got a history you wouldn’t believe.”

“Really.”

“Uh-huh. Fires, explosions, you name it. Blew up whole buildin’s, more’n once I guess. But then when they finally caught her, they said she was unfit to stand trial.”

“That’s a thing?”

“Uh-huh.”

She considered the nonresponsive girl in the wheelchair before her, the pink hair kept to a buzz cut for convenience, the half-closed blue eyes.

“Too many drugs, I guess,” she said. “Fell in with the wrong crowd, Lord knows what. Ended up here, ‘til she’s deemed fit.”

Then a sigh, adding, “Such a shame. An’ you jus’ know she was somebody’s baby once.”

She tsked as she disposed of the used syringe and held her hand out for the other.

“Sure,” the intern nodded. “But then, shouldn’t we be giving her antipsychotics or something?”

She frowned. “The hell you think these are, candy bars?”

He examined the manufacturer-printed package he still held. “Adderall.”

She stared at him, then at the empty syringe in the waste basket.

“Oh,” she whispered. “Oh, my sweet baby Jesus.”

In the wheelchair, the patient’s eye twitched.

Motioning for the intern to head out the door, she said in as steady a voice as she could, “Honey, now I need you to try to stay calm…”

“Iyamcalm,” her patient said, dreamily.

Then, as her eyes slowly focused on the elderly woman before her, she snarled through gritted teeth, “GOD, I’m calm!”

The nurse swallowed, taking a step back, motioning more frantically at the intern, who simply stood, staring.

“Well, uh, I need you to jus’ stay in your chair, okay?” she said. “The doctor’s gonna be here in just a minute. You jus’… jus’ stay calm, okay?”

At that moment, the nurse’s phone began to buzz in her pocket.

The patient cocked her head to one side, her demeanor suddenly dreamlike again. “You gonna get that?”

“Uh, well…”

The blue eyes narrowed. “Answer. The fucking. Phone.”

Slowly, carefully, the nurse fished the phone from her pocket. She pressed a screen, then held it to her ear, saying, “Uh, whoever this is, can I call you back?”

Then, she stared.

Holding out the phone as though it was going to bite her, she said, “It’s for you.”

With effort, the young woman pushed herself out of her wheelchair. She clenched her fists with a series of audible cracks and pops, then reached out and took the phone, swaying slightly as she did.

After a moment, Pinkie Pie grinned, still staring at the nurse. “Hiya, Twilight!” Then, she nodded. “Sure, no problem.”

Tapping another part of the screen, she put the phone in the pocket of her scrubs top.

“Ma’am,” a new voice spoke over the phone’s speaker, “Thank you for your cooperation. I know this is unusual, but I need you to please hand Miss Pie the remaining syringe and leave the room.”

As though awakened from a trace, the orderly finally bolted from the room.

“I… I can’t do that,” the nurse managed.

“Ma’am, my name is Twilight Sparkle. Do you recognize that name?”

The nurse paled.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“That’s good, because I know your name, as well,” the voice said. “Your name is Echinacea Blossom. You and your husband live at 1963 CS Lewis Boulevard. You’ve lived there for seven years.”

Echinacea Blossom said nothing, only stared at the phone in horror.

“Please give Miss Pie the remaining syringe. Now.”

Nurse Blossom picked up the still-wrapped syringe from where the orderly had dropped it, handing it to her patient with trembling hands.

“Thank you. Now, please leave the room.”

With almost no hesitation, the old woman ran. As the door closed behind her, the electronic lock clicked into place.

“Okay, Pinkie? I need you to inject the other syringe into your IV.”

Pinkie Pie shook her head. “Hmm-mm.”

“Pinkie, you’re going to need that, to finish countering the effects of the antipsychotics they’ve been giving you.”

Pinkie Pie shook her shaven head, wildly, her voice becoming slurred. “Nnno… no more needlzz.”

As Pinkie Pie slumped dizzily against the wall, Twilight’s voice became more urgent.

“Pinkie, please! Security is on its way, and I can’t delay the police finding out about this for long. I understand your not wanting to, but—!”

Pressing her forehead against the wall, Pinkie Pie pulled the IV out of her arm and let it drop.

“Pinkie?”

“Wooooo…”

“Pinkie!”

Slowly, her cheek pressed against it, the pink girl began to slide down the wall.

“Pinkie!”

From the hallway, shouting could be heard. Fists began pounding on the locked metal door.

“PINKIE!”

Author's Note

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Ending Credits: Coma White, by Marylin Manson. (Lyrics = NSFW)

Episode 8. Rainbooms: The Long, Hard Road out of Hell.

The motel room door flew open in a rainbow burst, revealing an unconscious Twilight, looking more shrunken than ever in the bedding that propped her up. On her lap and surrounding her were an assortment of screens, all showing different readouts or camera views. By the side of the bed were two power strips, a tower, a few hubs of cord connectivity, and a small fan blowing furiously on the entire assembly.

“We gotta git outta here,” Apple Bloom said. “Rainbow?”

Rainbow Dash didn’t even look up. She was already feeling Twilight’s forehead, checking her throat for pulse.

“I’m way ahead of ya,” she said. “Got a burner?”

Apple Bloom tossed her the disposable phone, and the blue woman caught it as she straightened.

“Awesome,” Rainbow said. “Get Twilight’s latest Cerebro into the car, wilya? Don’t worry about shutdown, just unplug and go. Pinkie, get the rest of her gear. I’ll handle Twilight in a second.”

While Rainbow Dash dialed, Apple Bloom began disconnecting the tower from its peripherals and Pinkie staggered about, grabbing and occasionally dropping flatscreens.

“Who ya callin’?” Apple Bloom asked.

Rainbow Dash grinned. “A friend.”

The place was posh. Looking around, Apple Bloom had to give it that. A ways out from the suburbs and far from downtown, Earthstopping was an upscale neighborhood of recent construction. There were plenty of houses with their For Sale signs still out, including this one. Zephyr Breeze wasn’t into real estate anymore, but he still knew people who were.

So, the Rainbooms had the rest of the month to use the place as a safe house, though they still needed to keep it on the DL. Vehicle in the garage, no leaving during the day, the usual.

He’d even loaned the Rainbooms his painter’s van for the time being. It had more room, and was much less conspicuous, than the Evade… which was probably headed for a chop shop somewhere. Apparently, Zephyr knew folks from when he was a mechanic, too.

At least, probably he’d been a mechanic? Apple Bloom hadn’t felt like asking questions just then. Neither had anyone else.

Now, they were just about moved in, not that that took much. The place had five upstairs bedrooms, a hot tub big enough to throw a party in, and a fridge stocked with champagne. There were even potted plants, for all that they were plastic. Lots of windows, which made Apple Bloom a little uncomfortable… but there were also blinds for privacy, which Zephyr closed while he and Rainbow Dash wandered the house, talking. Twilight’s computer and its extras were in the main bedroom, along with Twilight. They would set it back up after everyone had gotten some rest.

As Apple Bloom wandered back down the stairs, she could hear Rainbow Dash and Zephyr wrapping up by the front door.

“…there’s technically Internet,” he was saying, “so agents can have access while they’re closing the deal, but it’s slow as hell. Of course, knowing Twilight, she’ll figure a way around that. Oh, and I brought you a new burner, for when you ditch that one. I’ll recognize the number if you call. So, if you need anything…”

Taking the new phone, Rainbow smiled. “I know.”

Then, glancing towards the garage, she said, “So, you’re painting now?”

He shrugged. “‘Artistic interior décor,’ Last week I was working fossils into a law office’s walls. Before that, I was putting different flowers and plants on the walls of a spa’s rest rooms.”

“Yeah. So, you’re painting.”

Zephyr shook his head. “That’s just part of it. My main thing is taking real objects and sealing them against the structure, so it’ll have the texture of whatever the customer wanted. Then, I drybrush it to fit either the décor’s theme or suit the rest of the building.”

“Bet you’re making a killing.”

“Last week I made thirty grand in four days.”

Rainbow blinked. “Nice.”

Zephyr shrugged again. “Yeah, but now that I’ve got it down it’s gotten pretty dull. I got an offer to do some set design for a musical, and there’s an up-and-coming band looking for a special effects guy. So, I dunno.”

She grinned, shaking her head. “Man, you do you.”

He grinned as well. “Always.”

Then, both their grins faded. Rainbow Dash put a hand on Zephyr’s shoulder.

“Thanks, Zeph.” Her voice was quiet, her eyes serious.

He smiled a little. “Hey, anytime.”

They hugged, and then he gently closed the door behind him.

Re-entering the living room, Apple Bloom gave her a quizzical look. “Thought you couldn’t stand that guy?”

“Well, yeah, back in school. He was hitting on me, like, constantly.”

“Yeah, I remember. When’d he stop?”

“I dunno.” Rainbow shrugged as she locked the door. “When we both grew up, I guess.”

Rainbow Dash paused, considering the teen before her.

“Y’know, you were pretty good back there,” she said.

Apple Bloom started, then grinned. “‘Man, don' tell me how good I was. I jus’ got away with it because I had a hangover. I was too mad to be scared, and too sick to worry about it.’”

Rainbow Dash thought for a moment, then brightened. “El Dorado.”

“Best damn movie ever made,” Apple Bloom pronounced.

“I dunno, what about Star Trek II?”

Apple Bloom made a show of mulling it over. “Mmm. Close, but no cigar.”

“Casablanca.”

“Oh, now, that ain’t even fair,” Apple Bloom protested. “That there’s a class all its own, an’ everybody knows it.”

“Yeah, okay, point,” Rainbow conceded with a smile. Then, yawning, she added, “Listen, I’m gonna crash. Unless you can think of anything else we need to do?”

Apple Bloom shook her head. “Not me.”

“Good. I’m heading upstairs, then. You coming?”

“Nah, I’m still too wired from everything. Gotta unwind first, I think.”

“Cool enough. Good night.”

“Night.”

Apple Bloom sat in the huge overstuffed chair, feeling herself slowly decompress…

Then, her head snapped up.

Wait. Am I… Am I what now?

Apple Bloom replayed the exchange in her mind several times. She had to have misunderstood.

Rainbow Dash didn’t just… she couldn’t… could she? No. Shoot, no! But then, what…?

Eventually, confused and full of questions, Apple Bloom crept up the carpeted stairs again. The master bedroom door was open. Inside, partially illuminated by the hall light, she could see the other young women tangled under the covers. All of them, sound asleep.

At first, she just stared.

I am not seein’ this! she thought. Not in a million years!

Then, as she looked, she realized.

This… this ain’t sex.

They looked, at second glance, like kids at a sleepover. Or like kittens in a pile, maybe.

But that wasn’t right, either.

The Rainbooms had always shared a special bond. Well, not always… but ever since Princess Twilight had come into their world, and Sunset had turned herself around, they had. And as that bond had grown, for a time Apple Bloom and her fellow CMCs had been downright jealous of what was happening between their older siblings.

Not one of her prouder moments, she admitted to herself.

But now, Apple Bloom remembered why she’d been so jealous. She’d always been close to Applejack; her sister had all but raised her. But over time, AJ and her new friends had steadily become even closer. And that had been hard to take.

And even then, Apple Bloom realized, she’d never understood just how tight a bond they’d had. Not until now.

Because those three weren’t sisters, or lovers, or whatever else. Their connection ran deeper than that. Deeper than anything Apple Bloom had ever seen.

While Apple Bloom watched, Pinkie Pie made a noise in her sleep, her shaved head showing clearly the cords tensing in her neck. Then, the violet arms around her squeezed a little more, and her tension subsided. A moment later, Twilight murmured something, half-frowning in the dim light. Sky-colored arms curled around her from behind, and she relaxed again.

It made sense, Apple Bloom realized. Twilight and Pinkie Pie tangled together, supporting one another, even as Rainbow Dash spooned them both.

Because they weren’t just sleeping.

They were healing.

Apple Bloom stood in the doorway, uncertain. Then, she took a tentative step into the threshold.

She’d been invited, she reminded herself.

Then again, maybe Dash had meant upstairs to another room. Or she might have just misspoken. God knew they were all tired enough.

And even then, what if the others just didn’t want her there? Images of Twilight, half-awake and confused at her presence, swam before her mind.

Apple Bloom hesitated, half in shadow, aching.

From behind the other two women, Apple Bloom heard Rainbow Dash sigh.

She considered the other bedrooms in the house. There was certainly nothing wrong with any of them. And having her own door she could close, that was the kind of thing that by all rights she should have been embracing right then.

But the thought of being alone with her nightmares, even just one more night…

Later on, she couldn’t remember crossing the room. She just remembered slipping under the covers, even as Pinkie Pie rolled over in her sleep, reaching out and pulling her in while Apple Bloom embraced her in kind.

Exhausted, Apple Bloom fell asleep at once.

The dreams were as bad as ever. Things she’d seen. Things she’d done for revenge, or even just to survive. Other things, things she’d tried to forget. But this time, even in sleep, she could feel the others around her.

It didn’t make it any less painful, or any less terrifying. Not really. But somehow, their presence helped just the same.

Apple Bloom woke several times throughout the day. But when she saw the others still sleeping, it just seemed right to close her eyes and let herself drift back again.

It was night when they truly awakened, more or less all at once. With the blinds all pulled the women could turn on a few lights. Zephyr Breeze had been by while they’d slept and stocked the kitchen with supplies, so Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie decided to make breakfast. But then one thing led to another, and next thing Apple Bloom knew those two were in a cook-off.

Twilight had just managed to prop herself up against the pillows when her three friends re-entered the bedroom, bringing in a seemingly endless assortment of serving dishes, platters, and bowls… along with some plates, eating bowls, and cutlery.

What followed was part bedroom picnic and part smorgasbord, with all four of the young women eating, talking, and even laughing until the sun had once again started to rise. It had seemed to Apple Bloom that there had been enough food to fill a dozen people, easy. And Twilight still wasn’t eating much. But afterwards, surrounded by dirty dishes, she had to admit that none of it had gone to waste. It reminded her of the parties they’d used to throw years ago, before everything had changed. Or the jamborees her kin had gathered for, years before that.

And then, when for no damn good reason at all the tears started coming and Apple Bloom just couldn’t keep them in any more, suddenly she was caught in an embrace by three sets of arms. She clung to them like she was drowning, kneeling by the bed where Twilight lay, whispering apologies the whole time.

Finally, the storm in her heart passed, leaving Apple Bloom wrung out and exhausted.

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Twilight said at the end.

“Yeah, we’re cool,” Rainbow Dash agreed. “It’s kinda why we’re here.”

“Well, yeah, that and cupcakes,” Pinkie Pie added.

Then, looking at Rainbow Dash, she let out a gasp of horror.

“Oh, my god! Dashie! We forgot to make the cupcakes…!”

Laughing again through her tears, Apple Bloom reached out and hugged them all again, just as fiercely.

It had been a long time. But it was good to have family again.

Author's Note

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Ending Credits: The Long, Hard Road out of Hell, by Marilyn Manson. (Audio = NSFW)

Episode 9. Rainbooms: Sweet Child of Mine.

“Okay, so, we up for a planning session?” Rainbow Dash finally asked. “I mean, hunkering down is great, but we gotta have a next step, you know?”

Apple Bloom nodded. “Yeah. Like taking the fight t’them, right? We cain’t just keep runnin’…”

“We’ll take the fight to them,” Twilight agreed. “All of them. But not in the way you’re probably thinking.”

The other women looked at her quizzically as she took another sip of Crocaide.

“We aren’t fighting the Sirens anymore,” Twilight said, shaking her head. “But Canterlot is worse than ever, and from what I can gather it’s spilled out across the rest of the world. I can’t tell how much of what’s going on now is a holdover from Siren magic. They got too powerful for anyone to be sure. After all, bringing out the worst in others and feeding on the results… it’s what they did. And by the end, they were doing it on a national scale, maybe more.

“But what I do know is that we can’t use that as an excuse. None of us can, for anything. It’s too easy, too damn dangerous. Plus, we’re not fighting magical monsters anymore. We’re fighting regular people now, and we’ve got magic that they don’t. That gives us a higher degree of responsibility.”

Rainbow Dash frowned. “How come?”

“Philosophical imperatives aside, it isn’t just Canterlot we’ve got to take back. Whether or not we were under the Sirens’ influence magically, we’ve all done things we regret.

“So, we’ve got to take back ourselves, as well.”

She paused, letting her words sink in before continuing.

“We’ve all been dealing with what we’ve done as best we can. And we’ll keep doing that. But it’s imperative that we realize that we’re not in that situation anymore. Plus, we need to be sure that we’re doing what we do because of us, not because of some lingering after-effect of the Sirens’ magic. So, I think it’s time for some new rules.

“So. Rule number one: no more killing. Starting today. Right now.”

“Wait,” Rainbow Dash interjected. “Just what the hell are we supposed to use against guns and SWAT teams? Harsh language?”

“Cain’t guarantee no deaths with a gun,” Apple Bloom added. “Not on either side.”

“Yeah,” Rainbow Dash agreed. “Meanwhile, there are more of them than us, and they’re way better trained! Even with magic…”

Twilight shook her head slightly against her pillow. “I’ve already thought of all that. And you’re right, the police and the gangs do outnumber us. But this time, we’ll be the ones better equipped. Without our being kept too busy for anything but constant street war, I should be able to establish a new lab. I’ve got some ideas for non-lethal weaponry that should make the difference.”

Then she smiled a little, adding, “Well, that and magic, of course.”

While Rainbow Dash nodded and Pinkie Pie looked more uncomfortable by the moment, Apple Bloom looked down.

“Um, Twilight?” she said. “I ain’t got magic. Never did, never will. What am I s’posed to do?”

“Apple Bloom...”

At the sound of her name, the teen looked up, to see Twilight giving her a sad and loving smile.

“None of this would have been possible without you,” Twilight said softly. “Without you, I couldn’t have escaped. Without you, Pinkie would have been overpowered and gunned down by cops in a head-on assault. And Rainbow Dash would have been sent back to a solitary cell, awaiting execution. We all owe you our lives. And I want to repay that debt.

“I can get you a ticket to anywhere. Under any name you want.”

“No.”

“I can establish you in a new life, with a new past…”

“No!” Apple Bloom insisted. “I gotta debt t’pay, too! They killed Applejack, Granny, an’ Big Mac! I ain’t leavin’ ‘till I get things square.”

“And when will that be?” Pinkie’s voice asked softly.

The other three turned to face her as she stared at them all with huge, sad eyes.

“You already hunted down the cops that killed the Apples,” the pink girl said, hugging her knees. “How many more will it take? Or… or do you just keep doing it, until your luck runs out? Do we make one last run, to get your body back? Do we bury you next to your family?”

Squeezing her eyes shut, she looked away, adding, “Because I don’t want that. And I don’t think they would, either.”

For a moment, Apple Bloom glared at her, and it looked like she was going to argue. Then, she looked down with a sigh.

“Anyplace you want,” Twilight said gently. “Start over. Please.”

But the younger woman just shook her head, still looking down. “I ain’t leavin’ ya in the lurch. That ain’t happenin’.”

“But—“

“No,” Apple Bloom said again. “I’m with ya ‘till the end. Y’all just need t’come to peace with that. An’ I dunno when that debt gets paid. But… but, you’re right. None of ‘em’d want…”

Apple Bloom’s voice trailed off, and, reluctantly, Twilight nodded.

“Alright,” she said. “But the nanosecond you change your mind…”

“Yeah, I know.” Apple Bloom swallowed. Then, turning to the pink girl, she added, “An’ Pinkie?”

Pinkie Pie blinked quizically.

Apple Bloom gave a reluctant smile. “Thank you.”

Pinkie nodded, still sniffling, as Apple Bloom hugged her, and let go of her legs long enough to hug her back.

“Okay, I do have some ideas for equipment that might make up for a lack of magic,” Twilight said, “but that can wait. Right now… Pinkie?”

Still holding Apple Bloom, Pinkie Pie looked away.

Rainbow Dash frowned in concern. “Pinkie Pie?”

“Guys,” the pink girl sniffed, “my magic is for parties. For making people laugh. I can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry, I really am, but I just can’t…”

“You don’t have to,” Twilight said. She reached out to Pinkie Pie, who tearfully took Twilight’s emaciated hand in one of her own, still holding onto Apple Bloom with the other while the younger girl hugged her tighter.

”You never should have been part of this in the first place,” Twilight said. “None of us wanted this, but you were against it from the beginning. And even with that, you’ve already done more than anyone had any right to ask of you. And of all of us, I think you’ve suffered the most.”

While Pinkie continued sniffling, Twilight squeezed her hand as well as she could.

“Hey. Hey, it’s okay,” Twilight said. “Look, your folks should still be in Germany. I can get you plane tickets, if you want. And I know where the village they moved to is. You could go there, be with your family. Get some rest.”

Tearfully, Pinkie nodded.

“Then it’s settled,” Twilight smiled. “You’re leaving tonight. I’ll get you tickets, run interference for you until you’re out of the country.”

Embracing Pinkie from behind, Rainbow Dash added, “Hey. Cheer up, Pinks. You saved me! You saved all of us!”

And then, she added softly, “And nobody’s forgetting that, especially me.”

There were several more minutes of silent embraces, until finally the young women separated slightly, with Rainbow Dash leaning on one side of Pinkie Pie, and Apple Bloom leaning on the other.

“Anyway,” Twilight said at last, “that brings me to rule number two: no more recruiting. This isn’t a gang war. We went down that road once, and I don’t think any of us want to do that again.”

Then she sighed, ran her hand through her hair. “But we can’t do nothing, either. So--”

“Wait,” Rainbow interrupted. “What about what you were telling Shining Armor? You know, about us having two choices and stuff?”

Twilight stared. “Oh, my God. You heard that?”

Apple Bloom looked uncomfortable. “Y’left the channel open.”

“Though, in your defence, you were pretty exhausted,” Pinkie observed. “It’s not a shock you were passed out by the time we got to you.”

Then, after a pause, she added, “Hey, did you know you snore?”

Twilight covered her face for several moments, then finally looked up again.

“Okay. I’m not proud of what I said then. And, God, I said it to Shining…!”

She lapsed into silence, then finally said, “I wish I’d said it differently, but I was exhausted and freaked out, and…”

She shook her head. “Okay, no. No more excuses.”

Twilight took a deep breath, let it out.

“I should have said it differently,” she said. “Especially to my brother. But the core of what I said was true. The cops in this town have become another gang. The most dangerous one, really. They have the most resources and the greatest degree of public consent, even with their own criminal acts. Plus governmental backing.

“And we are hunted women, all of us. Which means if we don’t take control of the situation, we’re just going to die tired and scared. But while we may be fighting the cops from time to time, they aren’t the main concern. It’s the street gangs we have to take down, along with the corruption that allowed all this to happen.”

Her eyes narrowed as she concluded, “The Canterlot Gang War is over. We’re not bringing it back.”

Rainbow Dash frowned. “Wait. You just said we’re taking down the gangs… but we’re not fighting them?”

“Yeah,” Apple Bloom frowned. “Jus’ what the hell are we doin’?”

“Oh, we’ll take the gangs down, all right,” Twilight assured them. “But this isn’t a gang war.”

At their looks of confusion, Twilight smiled, though the hardness in her eyes and voice did not waver.

“This is a revolution.”

After the courthouse fiasco, Shining Armor had managed to keep it together until he’d gotten home, waving the press off as he’d gotten into his car and sped away. He remembered that much. But after that point, everything was kind of a blur.

He had vague memories of flinging open his door, of throwing things, of screaming and punching the walls. His hands were bloody from where he’d punched the mirror before him, leaving what glass remained fractured and warped.

Then, his anger flowing out from him, he’d finally just collapsed on the couch in tears, falling quickly into an exhausted sleep. He’d only awakened when he’d suddenly jackknifed up, choking on bile, the last images of his nightmares fading from his mind.

Now, Shining Armor stood at the bathroom sink, still drained from his earlier fury, his nausea for the most part spent.

Despite everything he’d tried and everything he’d done, Twilight was gone.

You’re the enemy, Shining.

Stay the hell out of our way.

Shaking, he squeezed his eyes shut.

That was it.

He’d lost her.

During the gang war, Cadence had left Canterlot, taking Flurry with her. And that had made sense, he’d told himself. She’d been protecting herself, and she’d been protecting the baby. They’d parted angrily, sure. But it had been temporary, and it had been for the best. He’d told himself that, again and again.

But then, the Sirens had destroyed Canterlot High, killing most of the people within. Some of the dead had been friends of his, people he’d gone to school with at Crystal Prep before they’d become faculty at CHS. But mostly, they’d been friends of Twily and her fellow Rainbooms.

The Rainbooms had changed tactics then, fighting fire with fire. And he’d changed with them, walking a delicate line between gangster and cop. He’d moved his parents out of town around then, trying to make sure Cadie had the support she’d needed while keeping them all out of the splash zone. And they’d been glad to go, to get away from the gangsters they’d felt they didn’t know anymore. His sister, and him.

The last time he and his wife had talked, it had been after the explosion that had killed Rich Hues and almost killed Twilight. And, inevitably, they’d fought again. The war was over now, and he’d wanted her to come home.

But to her, Tailahassee had become home. Even as Canterlot had become a dangerous place to raise a family, and Twilight had become a criminal. Much as it had hurt her to say it, the Rainbooms had made their life’s decisions, and it was time for him to move on. She’d asked him to quit his job, move up north where the rest of the family was.

Somehow, Cadence hadn’t understood that even then, leaving hadn’t been an option for him. Whether she wouldn’t understand that, or just couldn’t, he had no idea. But without his influence, Rainbow Dash would have died in her cell, just another murdered convict to be forgotten. And Twilight, his baby sister, would have been killed in her sleep.

And he knew he could have gotten Cadie to understand, if they could have just talked about it. But somehow, when he’d tried to tell all that to his wife, he’d just ended up screaming instead. He could still hear Flurry crying in the background, his wife begging him with tears in her voice.

He couldn’t even remember who’d hung up. Maybe they both had. He just remembered them yelling at each other, and then feeling emptied out afterwards, holding a dead phone in his hand.

That had been three years ago.

And now, Twilight Sparkle and Rainbow Dash were loose again. They’d broken Pinkie Pie out, as well. All of them armed with a magic that the police just weren’t equipped to handle, aided by Apple Bloom as a new, deadly first recruit.

The Canterlot Gang Wars had started all over again. And it was all because of him.

He stood there for several moments, alone, hands to either side of the sink and eyes squeezed tight against the tears. Everything he’d lost, he’d sacrificed to keep his sister safe. And now, in all the ways that mattered, he had lost her, too.

He could feel himself falling. It was as if the ground had crumbled beneath him, leaving no place to stand. Everything was just falling away, until only darkness remained.

Shaking, he brought his eyes up again, stared at his visage in the mirror’s shards still clinging to their frame.

Broken glass is incredibly sharp, he thought.

It would be so easy.

He saw his sunken cheeks, the dark-ringed eyes burned into his face, the stubble formed above the crumpled collar of his shirt. The wrinkled coat. The badge hanging from its chain around his neck.

He stopped.

I spent months without this thing, he thought. Only when the Rainbooms went down did I put it on again. I’d always thought of it as an amulet, a charm I could use to protect people. And when the dust had settled, my family and friends had never needed a protector more.

I kept telling myself, I was using it to keep them safe. And when I got promoted, it just got more powerful. I could do more with it, protect them better than ever before…

He lifted up the badge, feeling the weight of the gold in its leather case.

So… when did it get so heavy?

Looking back, it had probably stopped being a talisman around when Cadence had truly left him, at the end of that last, fateful call. Not all at once, of course. But with her gone, as the nights had gotten longer and lonelier and the days more crowded and hopeless, he’d felt more and more like some damned Ancient Mariner. A cursed interloper, doomed to live forever alone in penance for his sins. And his badge, the constant reminder of his failures.

But looking at the broken reflection before him, he realized he’d been wrong. The badge he wore had never been a talisman of protection, nor a burden to bear.

It was a promise. It was a commitment to uphold the law.

Shining Armor seized on that new revelation like a man in quicksand clutching at an overhead vine, pulling himself into the certainty he needed. It was all he had left now, and he held it close with a desperation he didn’t know he’d had. It was his last foundation, his final source of light against the darkness.

When Commissioner Armor finally raised his head again, the fractured man before him was strangely composed. Determined. His breathing was almost steady again, his eyes and voice almost calm, his eyes hardened with new resolve.

“I’m sorry, Twilight,” he said. “But I never got out of your way.”

Author's Note

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Ending Credits: Sweet Child of Mine, by Guns N Roses.

Intermission 1. Anon-A-Miss: We Built This City.

The broadcast started with a black screen.

The footage faded in quickly. It was silent and jerky, with the frame rate of an old, cheap cartoon. But the story it told spoke louder than words. Sometimes it would shift from one camera to another, always angled from above. But the date/time stamp at the upper left corner kept running, and made it very clear that all the footage, sometimes indistinct through the falling water but always telling in its indiscriminate violence, was from the same event.

In the lower right, a silhouette formed, obviously a lighting effect applied to a real person. At first, she stood almost motionless in front of the footage’s green screen effect. A woman, slender of build with a mane of long, wavy hair, wearing a jacket with a distinctive collar.

“As of this broadcast,” the figure said, “it was almost exactly twenty-four hours ago that Canterlot was reminded of why so many of us have trouble sleeping at night. Of why we don’t let our children out of the house anymore. Of why we don’t talk about anything that matters when we might be overheard. Especially anything dealing with police violence, purchased elections, or corporate takeovers.”

The vocal distortion was just enough to fool voice recognition, not enough to obscure her tone or gender. The shadow hiding her features was just enough to allow plausible deniability. But by now, after over three years of underground broadcasts, there was almost no one who didn’t recognize her, or at least her outline. And no matter who you were, if you’d seen her work, then you also knew the handle she used, both online and as a street artist.

“This is Anon-A-Miss, reminding you that this footage – you saw it first on Channel 8 News – was live as hell, coming from inside the Canterlot courthouse. In it, you can see with your own eyes the city’s gestapo doing their usual overkill without regard for anybody in their way. This is raw security camera footage. Nothing about this was doctored. No CGI or stock footage, regardless of what the people who own the networks and think they own the city want you to believe.”

The scene behind her shifted to the police commissioner, shaking his head as he descended the court house steps, waving off questions from almost every news channel in the city. The silhouette glanced up at him, then back to address the camera, crossing her arms as she did.

“The Powers That Be cracked down on the transmission, of course. And official statements have been sparse. But I think that our local commissar having no comment as he left the building’s wreckage was pretty telling. So did the networks, until their parent company told them to shut up and sit down, like nice doggies. And they did, of course. They always do.”

As Commissioner Shining’s car sped away from the press, the background scene shifted again, fading into an earlier scene on those same steps, of a newscaster speaking excitedly into her mic as lights flashed in the windows above her.

“But the company’s problem is that there are still journalists out there. And every now and then, those journalists remember why they got into the game in the first place. They remember what ‘journalistic integrity’ means. And they can do a lot for the cause before they get shut down.

“Rundown, the journalist who ran the piece, is on indefinite leave from her job. And, less known, so is Nat Sound, the guy who was running the camera and transmitting the footage. They both ignored the studio when they were told to shut up and spin, and now they pay the price for having souls. At least, for the moment.”

Rundown faded away, overrun by a seemingly endless cascade of hundred dollar bills filling the screen. Anon-A-Miss glanced at the falling money, then once again faced the camera, gesturing emphatically as she did.

“But the thing is, even though Carousel owns controlling interest in every news channel in the city, their stock holders all want the same thing: money. If doing this kind of garbage becomes unprofitable, they will stop on a goddamn dime. And we, as a people, need to stand up for these two! We owe it to every person who stands up for the truth to return the favor. Because when they stand up for the truth, they’re standing up for us, too.”

Then, several URLs appeared in white at the bottom of the screen. Pointing downward, the silhouette added, “PS: click on the links below for how to make sure your voice is heard by these corporate creeps, and how to make punishing journalists for telling the truth unprofitable.”

As the links faded away, the moneyfall parted like curtains. They revealed Starlight Glimmer, smugly speaking in her interview with Graceful Poise. Pointing at her for a moment, Anon-A-Miss continued:

“Meanwhile, because they own your media, your banks, your police and your homes, Starlight Glimmer thinks she and Carousel own you. But the reality is, no matter how many millions they spend or how many lies they spin, they can never, ever, own your lives.”

The scene froze on Starlight gesturing proudly towards an overhead screen showing Canterlot’s best known and most exclusive neighborhood of high-rise apartments and the massive office building they surrounded. Atop the office building was the word, CAROUSEL. Below it rested the company’s sunburst logo.

“Over the last three years,” Anon-A-Miss snarled, “Carousel has forged an empire off of media manipulation, stolen technological advances, and corporate-backed housing swindles. An empire defended by cops bought and paid for, and by street gangs taking corporate money in exchange for targeting corporate competitors and vocal critics of their corporate masters… and in at least one case, for becoming an unofficial security force for the company itself.”

The scene slowly began to fade to black as she continued speaking, all save for the orange sunburst, which gradually attained a brighter glow.

“And, by all measures, there is no better symbol for their evil than the personal mark of Celestia, former principal of Canterlot High. The crest of the woman who gave her life in a vain attempt to save her students, years ago… quietly incorporated since then as a company logo. Its original meaning deliberately corrupted for profit, her life and her sacrifice now all but forgotten.”

The sunburst vanished, the screen becoming a void of darkness, the silhouette a marginally visible shadow within it.

“But now,” the woman’s voice went on, “we can see that evil empire finally starting to crack. And with the Rainbooms at their gates, Glimmer and Carousel have a real fight on their hands. And while they will fight, make no mistake.

“They. Will. Lose.”

Footage began to fade in to fill the void. Older cell phone footage of street gangsters… not in the colors of the current Three Gangs of the city, but in blue, in yellow, in red. Fire fights running rampant across the city streets of Canterlot, through the neighborhood and around the school that the buildings in the previous shots had ultimately replaced.

“They will lose,” she went on, becoming more animated, “not because the Rainbooms are so badass – although they are – but because the Rainbooms have fought this fight before. In my next broadcast, I’ll be covering the rise and fall of the Sirens, the three women who were the prime movers behind the Equestria Gang War. The same war that the talking heads have been trying to lay at the Rainbooms’ feet ever since Carousel rose to power. And I’ll show you, through historical record, what most of you will hopefully already remember: how the Rainbooms saved us from a growing empire of violence and corruption that was tearing the city apart.

“And now, maybe, just maybe, the Rainbooms will do it again.”

The silhouette’s voice rose as she continued, “And as for Starlight Glimmer, I’ll just say this: she may have the money… but we are the people. And baby, there are millions of us!

“Carousel had to stop their housing scams last year, because of the people. Their nuclear plant is under federal investigation, because of the people. The media is starting to reveal the truth, even when they know they’ll be punished, because of the people. Carousel has the cops, the politicians, and even the Three Gangs for their allies. But now, for the first time since the Sirens and their empire fell… we’ve got allies too!”

She was almost shouting now, her movements giving full reign to her passions, all pretense of neutrality forgotten. This was no newscaster, underground or no. This was a revolutionary, and she was calling out to any and all who would listen with every ounce of her soul.

“So when you see the hype, you just remember: these are the people that Starlight Glimmer wants you to fear because she’s afraid! Afraid they’ll topple her kingdom like they did the last time petty tyrants tried to run us down! Afraid that they’ll carry the fight in ways we can’t! And most of all, afraid they’ll help you remember that the city belongs not to her, but to those who live in it!”

With some effort, the speaker pulled herself back. But while her motions and voice became more sedate, her intensity wavered none at all:

“So if you see these women, give ‘em a shout! Let them know you know they’ve got your back, and that you’ve got theirs! If there’s some small way you can help them out, something that won’t get you busted by the cops, do it. And when the time comes, and it will… be ready to take a stand.”

Behind her, the screen shifted to a montage of police violence and Starlight Glimmer speeches, shifting from full-color to black and white.

“This has been Anon-A-Miss, saying: keep circulating the videos, keep to the truth, and don’t let anybody program you but yourself.”

The silhouette vanished. There was a pause as the footage montage continued for a few seconds. Then it, too, faded back into the void from whence it had come.

Author's Note

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Ending Credits: We Built This City, by Starship.

Intermission 2. Pinkie Pie: Civil War.

There was a gentle knock on the hardwood door. When there was no answer, it repeated. Just as gentle. Just as reluctant.

Still in bed, Pinkie Pie closed her eyes. “Come in,” she said.

She’d said it in English, she realized, not in the out-of-date form of German that the villagers preferred. She winced. Old habits died hard. Some, harder than others. If she couldn’t even control how she spoke, how was she supposed to change how she acted? To stop hurting people, like she’d hurt so many people before?

And besides, she felt so sick. And over the last few days since her arrival, she’d just been getting sicker. It was like having every bad flu she’d ever caught, all at once. Shaking, fevers, aches… a nausea so powerful it was crippling. Half the time she was freezing, the other half she lay on her bed wearing only her nightgown, gasping and overheated. Plus being so dizzy she could barely stand, and so muzzy that, half the time, she couldn’t tell if she was even awake or not. And then she’d lie awake for hours, unable to move, somehow too exhausted to sleep.

And she couldn’t face anyone. Even her family. Somehow she just… couldn’t.

She knew at least some of it had to be withdrawal from whatever the hospital had been giving her. She knew she should be taking the pills Twilight had had Rainbow Dash get for her, to ease the detox process. The villagers didn’t have any problem with medications. They wouldn’t mind.

But dammit, she minded. She couldn’t put into words just why, she just did.

She heard the door open and close, almost silently. Heard the hard, heavy boots slowly approach. Heard the chair lift up from the floor so as to disturb the silence as little as possible, then rest carefully on the floor near her head. Heard the rustle of black-dyed cotton clothes as the old man who had entered moved. Heard the wood creak slightly as he slowly sat beside her.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

“Hello, Papa,” she said in the German dialect of the village.

“Hello, Pinkamena,” Igneous Stone Pie said in the same tongue. She could hear the smile in his voice.

Silence. Then, he coughed. Looked at the walls around her.

“Thy sisters are concerned for thee,” he said. “They say thou wilt not speak to them. Maude is beside herself. She returned when we sent word of thy arrival, and has been awaiting any news of thy improvement.”

Pinkie Pie seemed to shrink into herself a little. “I’m sorry,” she managed.

Unseen by her, her father shook his head. “They are not angry. No one is. Thy mother is also greatly concerned, however. Thou hast not eaten almost since thy arrival. She asked me to speak to thee.”

Pinkie Pie sighed, squeezing her eyes more tightly shut, wishing everything didn’t hurt so much. She was making her family worry, the very last thing she’d ever wanted to do. Her sisters, her mom… and now, she was making her papa worry. She could hear it in his voice. And somehow, that was even worse.

Her father had married late, vary late, and was technically old enough to be her grandfather. He had been a man in his late forties; his wife, a woman of twenty-five, only recently baptized into the Mennonite community.

Pinkie still remembered years ago, at dinner, a much younger Maude asking their father why he had married so late. He had replied, I was waiting for thy mother. The smile her parents had shared then was one of the memories of her childhood that Pinkie Pie cherished.

Of course, having a parent with that level of patience wasn’t always a blessing. While he’d been far less involved in their day-to-day upbringing than their mother, the sisters sometimes had found drawbacks to having a parent who could, literally, outwait anyone. And possibly anything.

There was the first time that she’d gone to visit the city, for example. She’d snuck out at thirteen, and stayed out through the night. After a while, she’d decided that if she could just stay out late enough, she could fake having gotten up early, and start in on her chores without anyone noticing.

But her father had been there, sitting in the chair he’d moved onto the porch sometime during the night. Waiting in the darkness. Contemplating. Solemn and unmoving as the mountains.

Good morning, Pinkamena, he’d said with a nod. Didst thou have a pleasant walk?

Pinkie had just stared at her shoes. Yes, Papa.

Good, he’d replied as he rose. The cows want for milking.

For the rest of the day, every time she thought she’d created a small gap of time to rest, maybe even nap, Igneous had just happened to be there with another chore that needed doing immediately. By the time the sun had set, Pinkie had been practically falling asleep standing up, literally tripping over her own feet. But somehow, the old man had been as unfazed by his own lack of sleep as ever. Pinkie had only been allowed to sleep after dinner was over… and the seemingly endless sermon that Igneous had led through and after the meal had finally concluded.

It had only been years later that Pinkie had realized he’d already known she and Maude would one day leave the village. The sermon, after all, had been on the parable of the prodigal son. And throughout her and Maude’s absence, he had never judged them. Not once.

But then, there was also the bright winter afternoon when she had found him outdoors, standing, smoking his pipe and seemingly studying their barn with great and careful deliberation.

Hey, whathee doin’, Papa, she’d quipped. Watching the paint dry?

Without missing a beat, her father had removed his stone pipe and blown a long, mellow stream of smoke into the crisp air.

Be not so impatient, Pinkamena, he’d said. I wait for it to peel.

Pinkie suspected that Maude had inherited her deadpan sense of humor from their father.

And now, he sat by her bedside. Waiting.

Her eyes shifted to the ceiling. There was a kind of comfort in the familiar patterns in the stained wood planks she had known since her childhood.

Beside her, the old Mennonite sighed.

“Well, I said I would speak,” he said. “And so I have. Badly, I have no doubt. But words were ever the gift of thy mother, not I. Still… it remains that we love thee.”

He paused.

“I love thee,” he said.

Sighing again, he went on, “And I am not content to be idle and see whether thou canst heal thyself or not. The world has bitten thee, I think. Like a serpent. And I would be a poor father if I did not seek to draw out its poison.”

Pinkie Pie felt herself curling inward under her blankets.

“I’m sorry, Papa,” she said at last, closing her eyes again. “I can’t. There’s… there’s too much.”

“There is no haste,” her father assured her with a loving smile. “I have nowhere else more pressing to be. I have told thy mother to bring us our meals here until thou art well enough to join us in the dining room.”

“I… don’t think I can,” she said miserably, her eyes still closed. “I know it’s not fair. I’m sorry.”

But he only nodded with a satisfied frown.

“Fasting is good for the soul,” he said. “Thou’rt wise beyond thy years. I shall join thee in thy fast. We shall purify our souls together. For I think thy struggles today speak of some failing of mine, years agone. And what greater sin, than to fail a child?”

Reaching out to stroke her cheek, he continued, “While thou remains in silence, then we shall remain together in silence before God. And when thou art ready to speak of thy pain, be it a day or a hundred years from now, then and only then shall we lance the wound in thy heart and let speech drain out its venom. And none shall ever hear of thy words outside of this room.”

Author's Note

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Ending credits: Civil War, by Guns’N’Roses.

Episode 10. Canterlot Police Department: Good Cop, Bad Cop.

It was the following night when Twilight finally roused herself again. Well, she’d half-wakened multiple times in the interim, just long enough to devour more of the water and protein bars that her friends had left for her. But this time she actually felt awake.

More awake than she had felt in a while, actually.

Frowning both from nervousness and determination, Twilight Sparkle sat up, pivoted in bed... and then, after a moment to gather her strength, carefully stood.

She waited, poised, for the inevitable wave of dizziness, or just for the collapse of her limbs beneath her own weight.

Nothing.

Carefully, gingerly, she took a step. Then another.

On the third step, she stumbled and fell. She had enough training to roll as she fell, so she remained unhurt. But she’d made noise just the same.

Her features contorted into a sour look as her door burst open in a sky-colored blur. She was already saying, “I’m alright,” before finding herself gathered up and gingerly placed back in bed.

“You know, you could have just helped me up,” she grumped, arms crossed where she lay. “I don’t need to be tucked in.”

“Uh-huh,” Rainbow Dash said, unconcerned. “How’re you feeling otherwise?”

Twilight thought for a moment.

“Better than I have been,” she decided. “Lots better. The treatments and the regimen are definitely working.”

Rainbow nodded. “Good. ‘Cuz you’re taking the day off.”

Twilight stared. “What? Rainbow, I have to—”

“She ain’t wrong,” Apple Bloom said from the doorway. The hallway light behind her reduced her to a silhouette, and for a moment Twilight stared, her heart aching.

If she were wearing a hat instead of a bow...

“Rainbow Dash tol’ me a little ‘bout your treatments,” the shadow said. “Now, I ain’t never studied biology like you gals, nor athletics like her. But what I do know is if you don’t give the body a rest cycle now an’ then, somethin’s gotta give.”

“I’ve been doing almost nothing but resting!” Twilight protested. “I sleep almost all day!”

“An’ what you’re doin’ right now, there ain’t no model for,” Apple Bloom went on, unperturbed. “Dash here figgers you need to cycle off that nasty stuff fer a day or so, an’ I figger she knows more about it than you.”

Twilight raised her hand to her forehead. “Guys...”

“Well, now? Which a’y’all has more experience in this kinda thing, you or her?”

“Well, she does, but—”

“Then listen to me when I talk to you! Okay?” Rainbow pleaded. “Please?”

“Yer outnumbered, Twi,” came the Apple drawl again, the grin in her voice unmistakable.

“Uuuurgh, fine!” Twilight exclaimed, her head flopping back onto her pillow. “I’ll take a day off. I don’t think it’s necessary, or advisable, but... fine.”

“Awesome,” Dash grinned. “Oh, and by the way, we made pizza.”

Twilight stared, propping up on one elbow. “Pizza? Oh my god, that sounds amazing right now!”

“Cool,” Rainbow Dash handed over her cane. “Bloomer’s gonna spot’cha while you navigate the stairs, and we’ll see you down there.”

Much to her surprise, Twilight was able to stay up a good twelve hours before retiring. She ate, bathed, played video games with her friends, read... by the time all was said and done, she felt almost normal.

Insanely tired, and definitely still weak, but almost normal.

Her balance was still off, her legs still buckled under her. Once, the arm she was using for the cane gave out, and Rainbow Dash had to catch her when she fell. And climbing the stairs required a good twenty minutes’ rest afterwards, up or down.

But she was better. She was getting her strength back.

She didn’t dare try her magic yet, not while she was undergoing her regimen. If the chemicals she was taking could temporarily increase her chance for stroke - and she had to admit, it was a possibility - then putting any strain on her brain was obviously a bad idea. By her calculations, she’d need to wait at least a week after her physical recovery before using her telekinetic powers; she planned on two, just to be sure.

And based on today’s results, physical recovery was coming quickly.

Well, not total recovery, she corrected herself. But enough that I’ll be able to stop the chemical enhancements. The girls were right. I needed a day off. But tomorrow, I have to get back on course. Another three, maybe four days, and I should be able to switch to light exercise and combat training.

Assuming, of course, that we don’t get caught first.

It was an uncomfortably slow-paced race against time. Every day – hell, every hour – that they stayed still, it was a chance that some neighbor might notice something and call it in. That some miscalculation in her friends’ breakout would be found, and lead Shining and the rest right to them.

But it remained: rushing forward was suicide. And not just with her treatments. With everything.

She paused.

And that might, she realized, be exactly what Shining was hoping for. He knew that she was desperate. She had to admit, she’d made that much perfectly clear.

And desperate people make mistakes.

She’d been considering going online, accessing the police files on her and the other Rainbooms. Checking up on what they knew and what they didn’t. But thinking about the matter, that could wait. For that matter, it had to wait. Her brother had never been good with technology, but he had access to others who were. And even if she was better than all of them combined – which, she acknowledged, she almost certainly was – it only took one mistake. Any mistake.

And then she and her friends would be...

Twilight frowned.

Caught? She liked to think so. At least, she liked to think that was what her brother would want.

But this was different than before. Shining wasn’t on her side this time. He was working for someone else. Someone who wanted her dead. And big brother knew her far better than she knew him.

And while it hurt even to think it, she had to recognize that he might not be trying just to catch them anymore. She had to remind herself of that, again and again. At least, until he came back to his senses.

Of course, even when he did, the rest of the force would still just want her dead.

Twilight stared at the ceiling, calculating.

If the old cover ID’s she had made before the end still held up, then there was a far better place for the three of them to hole up than a borrowed pre-fab house. Rainbow Dash was being incredibly patient, but certainly she would be anxious to see her wife again.

Just for a little while. Just long enough to find and set up a proper base of operations.

Assuming, of course, that Rarity wasn’t being watched. Granted, that seemed unlikely, since Rainbow Dash had called her shortly after moving in. And apparently the call hadn’t been traced.

Twilight frowned. Another mistake. If she’d been awake, she could have arranged for counter-measures, just in case. But she hadn’t been, and they’d all just been so exhausted, physically and emotionally. She couldn’t even blame Rainbow for the lapse.

So to all appearances, Rarity was still secure. But Twilight understood that in any information field, three years was a long time. So if she was going to be honest with herself, that had been luck. And luck was something they didn’t dare count on.

Thinking back to the task of moving their temporary base, cleaning the borrowed house would also take time... time which had to be accounted for. Torching the place would only draw attention, inviting experts in deduction to look for anything the Rainbooms and the fire had missed.

No. It had to be scrubbed clean the old fashioned way, leaving no trace whatsoever of their passing.

And while Zephyr had said they should have a month, Twilight knew that unexpected things happened all the time. The safe house had obviously been arranged through a friend, someone who might or might not know enough to understand how important having that full month might be.

And if they did, then they might or might not lose their nerve, and make a call to the police.

Twilight sighed, already starting to doze off again. She would call Zephyr when she woke up, get a full read on the situation. And then, she would start making preparations. Careful, unhurried preparations.

Exhausted, Twilight finally succumbed to a deep, dreamless sleep.

It had taken days to get White Hat loaned from the feds and approved for what Armor had in mind. But there had never been a doubt that she was who he needed. She’d been a juvenile offender before her recruitment into the FIB, and apparently, her old alias was still talked about in hacker circles. It had taken every string he’d had, plus calling in a few favors besides, just to get the deal on the table.

But getting White Hat herself had ultimately required Armor calling the one contact he loathed most of all. He didn’t know how Glimmer had managed it, but where official channels had failed, unofficial ones had succeeded.

Meanwhile, the media had been having an absolute field day at the department’s expense. At first, he’d been able to spin the major in-city networks into covering it as a trio of deadly hoodlums massacring the innocent, but that kind of thing just didn’t last the way it used to.

And that fucking Anon-A-Miss certainly hadn’t helped. That latest video of hers was like a fucking Internet hydra. For every copy that was taken down, two more took its place.

But none of that mattered now. All that mattered now was that White Hat was a leading expert in the field of cyber security, maybe the leading expert. One who hadn’t been out of the technological loop for three years.

And, most of all, now she was answering directly and exclusively to Armor. The first and possibly most vital member of a new task force, designed for only one purpose.

To take down the Rainbooms, starting first and foremost with Twilight Sparkle.

The monitor room was small and undecorated, with painted concrete brick walls and an unfinished, cracked grey floor. There were a variety of monitors and several chairs, with White Hat sitting in one while Armor stood behind her, showing her video after video, giving background information as he did.

“This is… amazing,” the hacker marveled as she watched the traffic footage. “The cars were never supposed to be able to do this.”

“I’m glad you’re impressed,” Commissioner Armor said dryly.

“No, you don’t understand,” the young woman insisted, half-turning to face him. “This is like when Bad Canine created the first Willy the Wombat game! If anything, this is even more extraordinary! The degree of innovation, to make the hardware do this—”

“Well, she does hold the patent.”

White Hat stared.

“Yes,” her superior said to the ceiling. “She’s that Twilight Sparkle. The one who generated over fifty patents while she was still in high school. Including half the technology in our smart cars, the police drones that never saw her or her accomplices, and the security technology used in most of our secure buildings and airports. Also including, incidentally, the facial recognition software that’s still used in most of the world today. She based a camera drone off that software when she was a high school senior, sophisticated enough to detect selfie opportunities. Needless to say, that software also has yet to locate her or her accomplices.

“So, yes. She’s a technological genius. In your circles, I imagine she may even be a legend.”

Then, his face hardening, he went on, “She’s also the same Twilight Sparkle who is partially responsible for a gang war that almost tore this city apart before her hospitalization, and for the escape of three dangerous lunatics afterwards. Not to mention every cop and prison guard who died in between.”

The Commissioner leaned over the hacker’s shoulder and tapped a few keys, bringing a series of classified case files up onto the screen.

“This was only possible because she and at least two of her current accomplices also each possessed a different power that the world has rarely seen, if ever. Telekinesis, explosive powers, telekinetic shields, super speed, super strength... in their heyday, the Rainbooms had access to abilities that were absolutely deadly, and so little understood as to be indistinguishable from magic. Plus intel-gathering powers that you wouldn’t believe if I told you.”

While White Hat stared at the screen’s images, green eyes widening behind her black rimmed glasses, Commissioner Armor went on:

“The body count that can be laid at her feet, directly and indirectly, numbers easily in the hundreds. And some of them wore the uniform I and your fellow members of this task force are wearing now. She’s not like you, White Hat. She is an indiscriminate mass murderer, and she uses her skills to destroy lives.

“So, what do you want, young lady? Her autograph, or her arrest?”

White Hat looked down, long red hair falling partly over her face. “Her arrest, sir.”

“Good,” Armor nodded, patting her on the shoulder. “Because, aside from its urgency, at the end of the day this is just another investigation. And she is just another criminal. A deadly, ruthless criminal. One who is armed and dangerous regardless of circumstance.

“So, get to it, and keep at it,” the commissioner said. “From this moment forward, capturing Twilight Sparkle is the only thing that matters in your life. Whatever you need to write or create or delete to catch her, you do it.

“I’m having a special operations room set up, just for you,” he went on. “Whatever you need, you tell me and I’ll get it for you. You need sleep? There’s a futon for you to sleep on. Hungry? I’ll have food brought in. Computer parts? I’ll have them shipped in the next day. Anything, literally anything you need.

“In the long run, we’ll need a complete overhaul of every computer defense in the city. But right now, just focus on securing our own house. Because she’ll want to infiltrate this department’s database. Even if she already has, she’ll need to again. And if we’re lucky, we’ll catch her as soon as she makes her next move.

“Because regardless of her brains and her resources, sooner or later she is going to make a mistake. And when that happens, we are going to nail her to the god-damned wall.”

The task force briefing had been that evening, and had taken over two hours. There had been depressingly few questions afterwards, with most of the attending officers looking bored, or even mildly amused.

Armor had done his best to impress upon them the danger of their assignment. Over and over again. With footage, slides, and even personal anecdotes. But by the time the conference was over, the police assembled were in agreement on only one thing: Twilight Sparkle, Public Enemy Number One, was as good as taken down.

Watching them file out of the conference room, for the first time Shining Armor felt unsure about the situation. On the plus side, Twilight being his sister had never been mentioned. And while he’d had an answer for that, he was still glad it hadn’t come up.

But the overall vibe from the officers as they’d filed out had reminded him uncomfortably of the space marines in the second Xenomorph movie.

Look, man. I only need to know one thing: where they are.

He shook his head as he gathered the last of his things, putting his laptop into his briefcase. He had done his best to impress upon them the seriousness of the situation. But in the end, their overconfidence would probably last until after their first encounter with the enemy. Hopefully, most of them would survive.

He took a breath. Held it. Let it go.

I’m worrying needlessly, he told himself, at least on that score.

Over the last four days, the strike force had been meticulously selected. Each member had undergone background checks worthy of a federal position before finally being sworn to secrecy and ultimately let in on the classified nature of their prey. They were all competent, all experienced, and all highly trained marksman who had seen fire fights before. They were all skilled and reliable.

And most of all, they were the good guys.

And they would see that justice was done.

His face grim, Armor turned out the lights, and left the room in darkness.

Meanwhile, the selected officers were fanning out into various hallways and stairwells throughout the department building. Being on-call 24 hours a day might suck, but having no duties outside that 24-hour call - plus full pay for the duration - more than made up the difference. Plus, they’d be taking down one of the worst criminals in USE history.

“So, this is it,” one officer grinned. “The big time.”

His friend grinned back. “I know, right? We take out one over-hyped gangsta bitch and watch the rest of her set crumble...”

“Mensa over-hyped gangsta bitch,” the first officer reminded him, finger upraised. Then, imitating Commissioner Armor, he added, “Remember, officer Ilium Steed, you must understand your enemy.”

“And that the stakes are much higher with this particular offender than you may realize, Officer Blue Steel,” the second one rejoined, also imitating.

They both laughed.

“One Mensa bitch later, and we’re super cops.” Blue Steel grinned. “I think we’re finally arrived.”

“I know, right?” Ilium Steed rejoined. “I mean, picture this on your resume, you know?”

Blue stopped, and Ilium did as well, looking at his friend quizzically.

“What?” he asked.

“I dunno, maybe it was just me, but... did it seem to you that the commish was kinda... soft on this gal?”

“Fuck, Blue, I dunno... maybe? I mean, Armor’s always been kind of a softie, that’s why we love him.”

“Yeah,” Blue agreed. “I mean, he may be a milksop, but he’s our milksop.”

“Right,” Ilium nodded. “So I figure, what the hell, we can make up the difference.”

The two of them started walking again.

“You know, maybe that’s why he’s not taking her on himself,” Ilium suggested.

“’Cuz he knows it takes a killer to stop a killer?”

“Exactly. Hell, that’s probably why he gave us a file on...”

Ilium paused, hefting the several inches thick brown envelope.

“...everything in her life’s history, I guess?” he finished. “I mean, the fuck? He can’t really expect us to read this.”

“Well, this is the commish we’re talking about,” Blue Steel reminded him with an eyeroll. “He’s probably got regulations for zipping his fly. But me, I already know how to do my job, thanks. All I needed to hear was ‘cop killer.’ And push comes to shove, magic tricks and a 4.0 GPA don’t do shit against high-velocity rounds.”

“Amen, brother,” Ilium agreed, and they bumped fists as they opened the side doors together, entering the parking lot outside.

“So, you want to swing by for dinner?” Blue asked. “Shigoto’s making chicken.”

Ilium made a show of being tempted, then sighed. “Nah, I think I’ll just crash.”

Blue gave him a grin. “Uh-huh. And does this seductive beauty have a name?”

“No, it’s not... you know what, never mind,” Ilium said, blushing slightly.

“Sure thing, pal. Just so you know, though... we’re rooting for ya.”

Ilium looked skyward. Whether he was praying for strength in times of such adversity, or just hoping a comet would fall and crush them both, Blue Steel couldn’t be sure.

Blue Steel laughed again and started for his car, fishing out his keys as he did.

“Talk to you tomorrow!” he called.

Ilium waved and entered his own vehicle, tossing the file into the seat beside him. A few minutes later, he was on the highway. Then, and only then, did he dig out his phone, hitting six on autodial.

The phone rang an uncomfortably long time. Finally, it picked up.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he said. “What the fuck, man, you on a break?”

Another pause.

“No, listen. No, seriously, just shut up and listen. I just found out everything. No, not that... that chick who’s been on the news. The escapee. Yeah, her. I got who she is, what she can do, friends, relatives... everything.”

Another pause, and Ilium laughed.

“What, and have you cut me out? Huh-uh, I don’t need to tell you shit. Get the Boss on the phone. Patch me through.

“Yeah, I’m serious, put ‘em on.”

There was a pause while the officer glanced at the fat envelope on the seat beside him.

“Yeah, actually, you really fucking should. In fact, this might call for a face to face. ‘Cuz what I’ve got, the Boss is definitely going to want.”

Author's Note

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Ending Credits: Good Cop Bad Cop, by Ice Cube. (Audio = NSFW) (TW = visuals of police violence)

Episode 11. Rainbooms: Voice of Reason.

On most any map in the country, Interstate 435 all but defined the city of Canterlot. Colloquially known simply as the Loop, the highway ran an almost circular course around most of the city. A massive ouroboros of concrete and steel, it encased almost every neighborhood, district, and property the city had to offer, linking to every other highway in the city.

Some of the more recent developments, mostly a few high-income neighborhoods (such as the Rainbooms’ first safehouse) and some industrial complexes, were either just outside the highway or lay partially beneath its overpasses. To the highway’s west lay beaches and beachfront properties, piers, and of course Port Canterlot itself. As the years rolled on, railways and streets would continue to branch out, spiderlike, to the north, south, and east... but they would always do so in the shadow of I-435.

It was the perfect way to continually drive with a brilliant view, without ever leaving the city. At nighttime, when the skies were clear and the city lights were ablaze, it was almost like driving through a galaxy of neon stars. More than one teenage road trip or low-income date had consisted, over the generations, of simply driving on I-435 for hours on end, perpetually uninterrupted by any hint of roundabouts, stop signs, or traffic lights.

So it was that, eight days after Twilight’s night off from her training regimen, the three Rainbooms found themselves circling the city along with several hundred other vehicles. Some getting onto the old highway, some turning off, some staying on for the ride. All of them equally anonymous, in a constant interplay of motion.

Rainbow Dash and Twilight knew the Loop like an old friend. But Apple Bloom’s teen years had been cut short by tragedy, and Twilight wasn’t up to multitasking just yet. So, on this overcast night, it was Rainbow Dash who drove. Bloom rode shotgun. And Twilight lay in the back of Zephyr’s windowless van, dialing the latest burner phone while lightning flashed threateningly in the distance.

“Commissioner Armor, please,” she said. “Yes, I can hold.”

Only a few seconds later, her brother’s voice came over the phone.

“This is Armor.”

“Hey, it’s me.”

“Twilight.” His voice lowered dangerously when he said her name.

“That’s right. I figured you’d be tracing anything to your cell. I mean, sure, you’ll trace this too... but it’ll take longer.”

“On my office phone?”

Twilight smiled. “No way you wouldn’t be living in your office. And I’m not going to waste my time arguing details over your building’s archaic communications system, BBBFF.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Silence.

Finally, Twilight spoke again, her voice cracking slightly.

“I won’t.”

“I—” The apology started automatically, but Armor forced it back down, covering it with, “...thought you were done talking with me.”

“I... look, I know I said a lot of things—”

“No, you were very clear,” he snarled. In a way, he found himself almost glad for the hurt, the anger. It made everything easier. “I’m the enemy, remember, Twilight? And you’re the conqueror.”

“Shining, please, I’m so sorry—”

“It’s too late for that, Twilight! You’ve made your choice, all of you have!”

“If you would only listen—”

“No, you listen. Because everything we had – friends, family, everything – you burned beyond all recognition when you became a murderer!”

Twilight couldn’t speak. The words thundered in her mind, we acted in self-defense, they killed our friends, we were trying to save the city, we were trying to survive...

But her throat was closed. All she could do was shake her head, tears running freely, as her brother’s voice pierced through the van’s interior:

“This is the price you pay for being a criminal, Twilight! The price we all pay when we live in a society with laws, and then break those laws! So now you can either turn yourselves in, or you can reap the fucking consequences!”

There was a crackling sound as Twilight twisted the flip phone apart. Apple Bloom held her hand out and Twilight passed the pieces forward, and without a word Bloom rolled down her window and dropped the fragments out onto the highway at 65mph.

Rainbow Dash glanced back. “Twilight, we clear?”

Still wordless, Twilight nodded.

Apple Bloom glanced back as well. “Twi...?”

But Twilight could only hold up a hand, shaking her head in silence.

Both other women looked forward again.

Rainbow nodded, saying, “Okay. We’ll be at the turn off in...” She paused, then said, “You know what? Let’s call it an hour.”

Apple Bloom nodded, leaning back a little. “Yeah,” she said in a deliberately casual tone. “Hour sounds good.”

The exit came and went shortly thereafter. The two ladies in front stayed facing forward, sharing the occasional small talk. Pretending they couldn’t hear. Granting what small privacy they could to the friend who lay behind them, vainly trying to control her tears.

It had been well over an hour by the time Rainbow Dash finally took them off the Loop, and by that time Twilight had regained her composure. By the time the van pulled into the house’s driveway, her face was dry, and she was talking again.

By the time Rarity saw her, Twilight was managing something she hoped resembled a smile.

The rain was falling steadily as the van approached the house, perfectly masking the sound of the garage door rolling up. Rainbow Dash killed the lights as she turned into the driveway, the better to avoid waking any neighbors. The door slid down again as the van stopped and Rainbow killed the motor.

All three women exited the vehicle, Rainbow Dash and Apple Bloom heading to the back while Twilight went to the door leading to the kitchen. It opened as she reached for the knob.

Rarity opened the door with the beginnings of a greeting, which immediately dissolved into Oh, my poor Twilight, come in at once! as she dragged her friend across the threshold and into her embrace.

The other two women glanced up just in time to see her get yoinked into the house and the door slam behind her. They exchanged a grin, and then got down to unpacking.

It was good to be home.

The four women were seated around an antique tea set, Twilight and Apple Bloom on stuffed chairs and Rarity and Rainbow Dash cuddled together on the love seat. There were cucumber sandwiches, scones, biscuits – British and colonial – as well as ham sandwiches, mayo, mustard, catsup, and French fries.

While everyone assembled generally agreed that tea made everything better, Rainbow Dash had never been a fan of what she liked to call ‘tiny food.’ Apple Bloom, however, had joyfully exclaimed Are we havin’ tea? We’re havin’ tea! at the sight of the table set, eliciting a delighted grin from her hostess.

The tea itself was a blend of echinacea, valerian, and peppermint that Rarity had found to be especially useful in times of stress. And at the moment, Twilight couldn’t agree more. They’d spent the last few hours explaining all that had happened since Twilight and Apple Bloom had escaped from prison, and Twilight was glad to have reached the end of it.

“Well, I’m glad you finally made your way here,” Rarity smiled, passing Twilight the sugar bowl. “I know you’re in a hurry, and I appreciate that. But please, stay as long as you need. It’s the least we can do.”

“I don’t want to cause you guys more problems—” Twilight began.

“Please, darling, don’t be ridiculous,” Rarity cut her off fondly. “You know perfectly well that you’re more than welcome here, regardless of circumstances.”

“And you’re not just dropping me off on your way somewhere else, either,” Rainbow Dash added. “We’re staying here until we get a new place, and then we’re moving there.”

Apple Bloom considered the two of them. “So, Rarity... are you joinin’ in, then? With the revolution, an’ whatnot?”

Rarity shook her head as she refilled her teacup.

“No, dear, combat is simply not my forte,” she said.

Apple Bloom paused munching her cucumber sammich and gave her a quizzical look.

Rarity smiled. “Oh, I grant you I know a little. I taught you girls, after all, back when you were the CMC. But when it comes to the unpleasantness that you ladies have in your future, well, frankly I just don’t have the instinct for it.”

Looking down, she added, “Nor the heart, truth be known.”

Rainbow Dash squeezed her hand reassuringly, and Rarity gave her a smile of gratitude.

“Sorry,” Apple Bloom said, looking down. “Didn’t mean t’bring up bad memories.”

“Not you fault, dear,” Rarity assured her. “Now, who would like some more tea?”

Thunder shook the house in its fury as Apple Bloom stared at the ceiling, gasping, trying to control her breath.

Next to her, Twilight was dead asleep, predictably exhausted. And for a while, Apple Bloom had slept too. But then she’d jackknifed awake, same as usual.

No, not quite the same. Things were better now, she had to admit. Way better. She’d finally stopped waking up coughing, choking on her own bile. But the nightmares were still there, regardless of everything else.

She sighed. Her heart wasn’t trying to kick its way out of her chest anymore, and she already felt basically okay. The dream’s images were already fading from her mind. But there was no way she was sleeping again anytime soon.

Welp, time fer snacks, she thought as she rolled to her feet. Maybe there’s ice cream.

Twilight didn’t move as Apple Bloom padded her way to the door and down the stairs. Sure, one of them could have crashed on the couch. But that would have still meant no privacy for whoever did, plus for whoever got up before them.

Which looked like it had been the right move, since the kitchen light was on.

Rainbow Dash glanced over to Apple Bloom as she entered, one hand still on the freezer door she’d just closed.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Better’n before. You?”

“Now that I’m here?” Rainbow Dash grinned. “Man, everything’s better. Ice cream?”

“Oh, God. Gimme.”

Rainbow Dash opened the freezer again, tossed a small carton of mint chocolate chip to Bloom, fishing out an identical carton of rocky road for herself. For a while, they ate in companionable silence, rain lashing against the window as they did. Eventually, Apple Bloom sighed, looking at the now half-empty carton.

“She would’ve had apple cinnamon,” she said softly.

Rainbow Dash nodded. “Yeah, AJ had specific tastes.”

“You ain’t just a’woofin’. I mean, I like apples an’ all, but... damn.”

“Yep.”

Apple Bloom put her ice cream down, looked at the window over the twin sinks, into the storm beyond.

“I remember, back when Sunset was still around,” She said. “We were talkin’ ‘bout the dearly departed, an’ whatnot? She said that back where she came from, some folks held that sometimes, the winds you felt? They were the souls of family, tryin’ ta help.”

Rainbow Dash’s eyebrows went up. “Really.”

Apple Bloom nodded. “Yep. Those that were good, well, they were the breezes that tried to warm the living, to comfort and guide them. Or sometimes, maybe ended up bein’ the coolin’ breeze on a hot summer day. The one that helped a body calm down right after a fight, or maybe even avoid one.

“Then, there were the mean folks. The hot winds in summer, or the ones that bit and cut in winter an’ fall. The worst became wind spirits that just wanted to freeze the living to death. Spirits so evil that laughter an’ love hurt ‘em, and so laughter was the only way to keep ‘em away.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah. So I told her ‘bout us Apples. How we rested in the apple trees on our land, lookin’ over future generations as they grew. I figured she’d laugh, but she jus’ nodded, said it made a lot of sense. Meant a lot to me, back then.”

She walked over to where she’d been sitting, put her hands on the back of her chair. “Now the farm’s gone. Trees’re gone. Burnt right down t’the bone.”

“You think Applejack...?”

Apple Bloom shrugged, pulled the chair into reverse and sat down. “Heck, I dunno. But... when me an’ Twilight were bustin’ outta that place, I thought I felt... I dunno,” she said again, shaking her head.

“There was this one feller. His gun had jammed, and I had ‘im dead to rights. I was thinkin’, one less screw in the world, an’ I was gonna fire...”

Rainbow Dash cocked her head. “But?”

Apple Boom looked down, almost embarrassed. “But there was this wind just then. A warm breeze, for all that it was comin’ off the water. An’ for a minute, I thought... I thought I smelled apples.

“And... I let him go. At the time, I didn’t even know why. I just... all of a sudden, the hate was gone. For just a minute. It wasn’t until later on, after we had a room an’ time to think, that I remembered that stuff Sunny’d told me.”

She looked back at her friend, expecting a look of incredulity, maybe even a laugh. Instead, Rainbow Dash was simply nodding.

“It makes sense,” she said again. “I mean, hell, look at us. I can outrun a jet. Twilight can move things with her mind. We fought the Sirens from legend, and traveled to other worlds.”

Looking contemplative, she scooped up another spoonful, adding, “So, you say that souls are a thing, Iiiiii’m not gonna argue.”

They shared a smile, and for a little while they just enjoyed ice cream together. Eventually, Apple Bloom cleared her throat.

“I got an awkward question.”

Rainbow Dash grinned. “I got an awkward answer. Want to see if they match?”

Rainbow’s levity vanished as Apple Bloom put her ice cream down, rested her chin on her crossed arms against the chair’s back. Then Bloom stood, just long enough to turn the chair around and sit again.

Finally, reluctantly, she made herself speak.

“Sweetie’s anniversary is comin’ up soon.”

Rainbow put her own carton down. “Yeah.”

Bloom sighed, looking down. “I know. But... the rest of us, Scoots an’ me, we never knew what happened. Y’all had us split up an’ hiding by then. Me at Manehattan with my cousins, them at wherever they were. An’ thinkin’ about Rarity tonight, an’ then ‘bout AJ...”

Rainbow looked like she’d just bitten into something sour.

Apple Bloom quickly added, “An’ if you can’t talk about it, I get it, I just...”

Her voice trailed off, and she stared into her empty cardboard carton. She only looked up again when she felt Rainbow’s hand gently touch her shoulder.

“I can talk about it,” the older woman said. “It’s just... hard.”

“I don’t wanna make you—”

“No, it’s not like that,” Rainbow Dash interrupted gently.

She sighed, rising. She gathered their empty cartons and dropped them in the trash, the spoons clattering into the sink. She stood, her back to Apple Bloom, both hands on the twin sinks.

Her voice was quiet when she finally said, “There was a point when we were fighting the Sirens... that... Sunset thought we needed someone... on the inside.”

Apple Bloom stared. “A spy?”

“Yeah. A mole. Someone they’d never suspect.”

“But... undercover folks die,” Bloom protested. “Like, a lot.”

Rainbow Dash sighed again, looking out into the pouring rain. “Yeah.”

Apple Bloom paled. For a minute or so, there was only silence between them. Then, quietly, she asked, “Sweetie Belle?”

Rainbow Dash said nothing. She looked down, away, anywhere but at her friend.

Apple Bloom felt herself slump against the table. Arms around her head, protectively, eyes closed.

“I never knew,” she whispered. “I figured, with everything gettin’ so bad, she just, you know. Wrong place, wrong time. And instead, Sunset... sacrificed her.”

Rainbow Dash sat beside her, put an arm around her shoulders.

“No. No, there’s no way that’s what happened. I don’t think Sunset even asked her. But we were at Rarity’s old place when Sunny brought it up. I think Sweetie Belle overheard us talking, and just... went.”

Reluctantly, she added, “I mean, I can’t swear for sure. The school had just been blown up, and none of us were thinking straight. But I can’t believe Sunset would have set her up like that.”

“She still went, though.”

“Yeah. Later that day, she was just gone. And next thing we knew, she was inside Sonata’s gang, sending us intel.”

Apple Bloom’s hands balled into fists.

“Twilight wanted her out, like yesterday,” Rainbow went on. “But the Sirens’ gangs always stayed in housing projects they controlled. And with no way to contact her first, and with at least some of them knowing who her sister was...”

“Tryin’ ta get her out coulda gotten her killed,” Bloom finished softly.

“Yeah. That was Sunset’s argument.”

Rainbow Dash looked out at the nighttime storm, quietly adding. “I remember her and Twilight fighting about it. Like, serious screaming matches. I’d never heard of them doing that before.”

“Sweetie Belle was still alive way after the school, though,” Apple Bloom protested. “I got letters.”

“Yeah,” Rainbow Dash nodded. “She was good. Better than any kid her age should have been. And what she got for us really helped. Without her, I think we’d’ve lost the war.”

“An’ I never knew,” Apple Bloom whispered.

“None of you were supposed to be involved at all,” Rainbow pointed out. “Not in the gang war, not in anything. We hid you for a reason. The only reason you even got those letters was her guessing where you’d be. Plus, Sunset figured the fewer people knew, the better chance she had. That was the one thing she and Twilight did agree on. Then, after she died, everything happened so fast...”

“How’d she die?”

Rainbow Dash looked at her for a moment, measuring. Then:

“Sonata figured her out. She locked her in a car trunk, sent it into the water. She drowned.”

Apple Bloom closed her eyes and shuddered.

Rainbow Dash squeezed her shoulders, adding, “Sunset blamed Twilight, and Twilight blamed Sunset. But Rarity blames herself. For not stopping her, for not saving her, you name it.

“After that, Rarity was really messed up,” Rainbow said sadly. “She’s better now, but back then, well, she was really wrecked.”

“I ‘magine.”

“Yeah. But the point is, her concentration was gone. She almost died, just because her head wasn’t in the game. And that led to the only other thing that Twi and Sunset both agreed on. Rarity got benched.”

“Yeah,” Apple Bloom nodded, sitting up at last. “I can see that. All a’that. An’... I guess Rarity’s still hurtin’, too.”

“Little bit, yeah.”

Apple Bloom sighed. “Hell. I just wish I’d known earlier. Keep me from rubbin’ salt in it.”

“Well, if it helps, I’m pretty sure you’re cool,” Rainbow smiled. “She’s had a few years to heal. And like you said, you didn’t know.”

The younger woman fell silent again. Rainbow waited, arm still around her, unhurried. Eventually, Apple Bloom spoke again.

“How’d she know?”

“Sonata?”

“Yeah.”

Rainbow Dash grimaced. “We’re not sure. Twilight had gone to pull Sweetie out, and afterwards Sunset blamed her. Twilight said they’d already made her, and blamed Sunset.”

“Which was it?”

“Dunno. But Twilight was in the trunk with her when she died.”

Apple Bloom stared at her, horrified.

“Yeah,” Rainbow nodded. “Sonata sealed them both into the trunk with a magic sigil or something. Twilight tried to get them both out in time, but...”

She made a helpless gesture and fell silent.

Apple Bloom shook her head. “Jesus. How do you come back from that?”

“I dunno, but she did. She and Sunset had one last fight, and then they were done. Sunny left. Sonata’s gang was the last one, so we finished chewing our way up their chain of command, found her... and dealt with her.”

“Wish I coulda been there.”

“No, you don’t.”

Apple Bloom opened her mouth to argue, then closed it again.

“You’re right,” she said. “I don’t.”

Rainbow Dash closed her eyes against the memories. “The Dazzlers, the Blaze, and the Dusk. One gang for each Siren. I don’t even know how many people we...”

She fell silent, and now Apple Bloom wrapped her arms around her.

“I’m sorry,” Bloom said. “That was a god-damned stupid thing to say.”

“No, I get it,” Rainbow sighed into Apple Bloom’s shoulder. “Funny thing was, Sonata was the hardest.”

“How come?”

“She didn’t... I mean, when Adagio went out, she went out fighting. Mystic blasts, rockets, you name it,” Rainbow explained. “She didn’t want to be taken alive. Aria ended up unarmed, magic powers exhausted, hanging off a window ledge... and she just spat at us. Dared us to do our worst.

“But Sonata? Fuck, man. She just... cried.”

Apple Bloom blinked. “She... what?”

“Yeah. Sonata cried. Begged us not to hurt her. Said it wasn’t her fault, that the magic made her do it.”

“And?’

Rainbow Dash untangled herself from her friend. Rose to her feet.

“We were all kind of crazy then,” she said quietly.

Quickly, Apple Bloom stood as well, pressed her forehead gently against her friend’s.

“That’s why we’re gonna be better than we’ve been!” she swore. “We’re gonna look out for each other! We’re gonna keep each other from gettin’ crazy again! All of us!”

Rainbow Dash raised an eyebrow as she grinned despite herself.

“Oh, you’re gonna keep me sane? Man, you are a dreamer.”

Apple Bloom laughed. “I promised, didn’t I? ‘Sides,” she added, dropping into song, “y’know I ain’t the only one...”

Rainbow Dash chuckled.

Bloom gave her a quizzical smile. “What?”

“Oh, nothing. It’s just, you know... you don’t usually find walruses this far south.”

Apple Bloom winked. “Goo goo a’joob, y’all.”

There was a brief pause, and they both broke into laughter.

Rainbow Dash held up a fist, still smiling. And, still smiling, Apple Bloom bumped it with her own.

Outside, the thunder rumbled distantly, dawn just starting to break between the clouds.

Silently, they embraced again, and then each made her way back to bed.

Author's Note

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Ending credits: Voice of Reason, by Chamillionaire.

Episode 12. Rainbooms: Let Her Go.

The biker rode along the street slowly, looking around himself as he did. The rainclouds were still thick above, but the streets were basically dry, and the breeze was crisp and cool. It was a good day to ride.

He wore his colors proudly. Black and gold riding leathers, dragons coiling around each other on the back of his jacket. Kanji on his sleeves and on his bike.

Granted, this wasn’t a wide patrol; he was well within Dragon Lord territory. But he was cautious, just the same. Word had come down that things were heating up, or at least would be soon. And every member had been warned: keep an eye out.

Still, there wasn’t much to watch in a fucking suburban neighborhood. Cars driving by, people walking – mostly old people and health nuts – and the occasional cop who knew better than to mess with the Lords.

Not that he had any beef with the cops, of course. Sure, they were supposed to be large and in charge.

Canterlot PD: Protect and Serve.

But everyone knew what the real score was. A few cops even waved as they passed, and he always waved back.

After all: in the end, they were on the same side.

Any children would be indoors, schooling online. It had been that way for the last few years, since the war. After all, what kind of ass hat would want their kid outside? That’s where the shooting was.

Once they hit eighteen, they could get a job, or go to college.

Or they could get jumped in, he thought with a grin. Get a real job, with a real life and real money.

He’d been eighteen himself when he’d had his wake-up call. He’d been driving his dad’s car, on his way to pay for his books... and then a stray bullet had shattered the rear window. Before he could even react, a second one had torn through the door frame right next to him, and a third had taken out his windshield and rear view mirror.

In an instant, it had been over. He hadn’t even realized when he’d screeched to a halt. He’d just known that he was stopped, white knuckles on the steering wheel, staring behind him at the yellow car that had just opened up into traffic.

Looking in front again, he’d seen the green Roosevelt Runabout they’d been shooting at, filled with corpses. Guns falling from their lifeless hands, the riders had obviously contributed to the crossfire.

He’d been stupid lucky to survive.

One of the Dragon Lords stepped out from the yellow car, started towards him. “Hey, man, you got a fucking problem?”

His head still ringing, he’d gotten out as well, said, “Yeah, I got a fucking problem. I’m lookin’ to sign up, and ain’t nobody jumped me in yet!”

The gangbanger had grinned. “Well, shit, can’t have that, can we? Hop in, we’ll see what you’re made of.”

A week later, he’d gotten his leathers, his bike, and the power to not only shoot back, but to call on his new heavily-armed family any time he needed to.

He wondered briefly how many kids might be watching him right now, their faces pressed against the one-way glass used in almost all homes, and revved his bike. Like the boss had always said, don’t just represent, represent to recruit.

He popped a wheelie, speeding down the lane and around the bend on one wheel.

“Dragon Lords rule!”

Rainbow Dash shook her head as she turned away from the living room window. “Fucking idiot.”

The trio had been with Rarity for four days now, and over time had acquired a good idea of the local sentry’s patterns. Twilight had pointed out that, lacking any good insight as to how much the gangs knew, it was wisest to assume they knew as much as the police. So, avoiding contact with any gangsters had become as important as avoiding the police themselves. Fortunately, the local soldier-on-guard was a creature of habit. Once they were ready to leave, avoiding him would be easy enough.

The rest of the city, however, was anyone’s guess.

“Have you contacted Zephyr yet?” Twilight asked, typing away on her laptop. “I’m not sure how safe it is to get his van back to him.”

Rainbow Dash shook her head. “Nah, I wouldn’t worry about it. He doesn’t need it, and he knew what he was getting into.”

“Okay, that works. Apple Bloom’s cleaning it now. If all goes well, I’ll handle transport to our new HQ in a few days. We can pick it up after things cool down a little.”

Rarity smiled as she descended the stairs. “Oh? You found a place already?”

Twilight nodded. “Well, we still have to secure it, but from what I can see that shouldn’t take much. It’s an older location, so most of the online sources won’t have it listed. And it’s underground, so I can access the power grid directly Which should put off the need to hack anything municipal for a while longer.”

Rainbow Dash frowned, puzzled. “Wait, since when did that become a problem?”

“Since I spent three years in a coma,” Twilight sighed. “Sure, I can still access pretty much anything. But access isn’t the problem, it’s getting tracked afterwards. And outside of what I designed myself, I still have a lot of catching up to do where security is concerned. I don’t even know if my old aliases are safe yet.”

“But, what about Pinkie?”

“That was just creating new accounts,” Twilight explained, waving the question away. “Ironically, setting up transportation or a new identity somewhere else is simple. But remember, Armor knows what I do, if not how I do it. Local systems are going to be monitored by someone he’s brought in. Someone looking for me, who knows what they’re doing.”

“Okay. So, how long before you’re back?”

Twilight considered.

“Probably a couple of weeks for basic stuff,” she decided. “But against Armor’s new talent? I don’t know. We’ll have to see.”

“Mmm. So, speaking of ‘couple of weeks,’ how’s your PT coming along?”

Twilight looked a little uncomfortable. “I seem to have stalled out, actually.”

“Nah, you’re probably just plateaued,” Rainbow smiled. “Keep at it for another few days, then take another day off. Don’t be too surprised if you sleep through it. Then, we reassess. Also, remember: we’re focusing on stamina more than strength. With what we’ll be doing, strength’ll come.”

Twilight flopped back onto the love seat. “Ugh!”

Rainbow nodded, tossing a bottle of water next to her. “Yep, I hear ya. Meanwhile, stay hydrated.”

“Better do as she says, dear,” Rarity smiled. “We hit the practice dummy in an hour.”

Even reclining, Twilight managed to slump. “Is it that time already?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Crap.”

“Indeed.”

“Yeah, you guys have fun,” Rainbow grinned. “I’m gonna help Bloomers with the van.”

And then she was gone, the door to the garage slowly swinging closed from the breeze of her passing.

Twilight took in a breath, held it.

Rarity looked at her curiously.

Twilight exhaled.

“Is something in particular troubling you, dear?” Rarity asked. “Or just everything in general?”

“It’s mostly everything,” Twilight sighed. “But well, frankly, I also feel like a heel, bringing all of our problems here. I mean, it’s been wonderful seeing you again. And you and Rainbow getting to see each other these past few days, that’s meant a lot. And, of course, there’s Apple Bloom...”

Rarity glanced at the garage door with a fond smile. “Yes, there certainly is. She’s become quite the young lady.”

“And I’m glad for all of that. I really am. It’s just...”

She gave a helpless, vague gesture, before finishing, “I feel like I’m crashing back into your life like a rhinoceros. Like I’m wrecking everything, and we just don’t know it yet.”

Rarity raised an amused eyebrow. “A rhinoceros. That seems... oddly specific.”

But Twilight was slumping down where she sat, her elbows on her knees. Looking up at Rarity miserably, she asked, “Am I, though? Am I just... smashing everything around me? Wrecking your life, all over again?”

Rarity seemed to consider this. Then, she asked, “Twilight, dear, would you join me in the kitchen, please?”

Twilight blinked. She started to ask something, but her friend was already vanishing through the kitchen door, and she scrambled to follow.

Rarity was waiting for her, as always the very picture of poise and grace.

“Twilight, we’ve been friends for some years now,” she said. “And you know I’ll never lie to you. But what I’m about to say, I need you to listen to, both carefully and completely. Can you do that?”

Twilight looked away, crossing her arms defensively.

“I guess,” she said.

“No,” Rarity corrected, gently grasping Twilight’s chin and turning her to face her. “That is not an acceptable response. You have a keen and analytical mind, darling. And I need you to use those qualities during this conversation, not berate yourself before we even start. Can you do that?”

Uncrossing her arms, Twilight leaned back on the stove behind her and nodded.

“Thank you,” Rarity said. “This is, I suspect, an important discussion we’re about to have. And it would wound me deeply if my words were misconstrued.”

“I understand,” Twilight said. “Just so long as you understand that if you need us to go, or even just me, there’s no blame and no resentment.”

Rarity smiled. “Oh, no, darling. it isn't that. It's just, well... you see that bottle of wine behind you?”

Twilight glanced at the stove, then the collection of wine bottles beside it. Two were for cooking, and a few they’d already sampled with some of their meals...

But then there was one, behind the others, in a cylindrical glass case. The case was thick, heavy glass, with ornate filigrees. The bottle’s label was unmarked green parchment, the glass itself was a dark violet.

“This one?”

“That one. It comes from a rather exclusive vineyard actually, back when the plinth was still operational, before that terrible ordeal with our school.”

Twilight’s eyes widened slightly. “I remember now! You’d asked Sunset and me to bring you back a bottle of pony wine!”

Considering the dust-covered glass, she added, “I'm surprised you never drank it. You seemed to be looking forward to it.”

“Well, you must remember, after all, that it was a much simpler time then. A much more innocent time. I was looking forward to graduation, we all were. And then Rainbow Dash was going to go off to law school and I would pursue my career in fashion with Carousel...”

Twilight winced. “Yeah.”

Rarity sighed sadly. “It all seems so far away now. But anyway, the point is that I was saving it for our graduation.”

She reached past Twilight and opened the glass case, picked up the bottle. Examined it in the light.

“But then the Sirens came back. And after that, when they destroyed our school and killed our friends, and everything else that happened, well, I set my sights on a higher goal. A different new beginning than graduation. Or, maybe just a different type of graduation. I honestly don't know anymore.”

There was the barest ghost of a smile as she added, “In any case. When you helped me fake my death, I made certain to keep the bottle with me.”

Carefully replacing the bottle, she continued, “I’ve been saving it ever since, for the day when all this nonsense would finally be behind us. Rainbow and I could start our new life together without the gangs, without the violence, without all of that... and just have our own life together.”

Twilight looked down. “Yeah, I can go.”

Rarity’s eyes narrowed. “Twilight Sparkle, you promised.”

Twilight looked back up, took in another long breath and released it. “Sorry.”

“That’s quite alright, you’re under tremendous stress. And in any case, while you’re being quite noble about this, that isn’t what I’m getting at.

“I don’t want you to leave, though I realize that eventually you must. Nor shall I ask you to abandon this crusade of yours, although I’ll admit that in my heart, I wish that you could. And I'm certainly never going to ask Rainbow Dash to leave you in your time of need.

“But I will ask you to make sure that you all survive this terrifying ordeal. Because I want to be able to share that bottle with all of you, hopefully someday soon, when we can all start new lives far away from any of this madness. Including Apple Bloom.”

Then, looking out the kitchen window, she crossed her arms, adding softly, “Perhaps especially Apple Bloom.”

Then, turning back to Twilight, she forced a smile, tossing her hair over one shoulder. “I'm sorry, darling. I feel as though I'm asking something of you that’s absolutely unfair.”

“No, Rarity,” Twilight replied. “There's nothing unfair about that. Although I think Apple Bloom may disagree.”

“That, my dear, is the burden of being a leader,” Rarity said. “Which, I will admit, is one of the reasons I've never wanted to be one, even if I had the right stuff. Yours is the responsibility, for good or for ill.”

Twilight looked down. “I never wanted that responsibility.”

Rarity placed a gentle hand on Twilight’s shoulder.

“No good leader ever does, my dear.”

Author's Note

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Ending credits: Let Her Go, by Passenger.

Episode 13. Rainbooms: Africa.

It was later that day, and the four women were sitting in the living room, discussing revolutionary plans over chips and sodas.

“We’ll also need capital,” Twilight was pointing out. “We were able to get by with theft for my pharmaceuticals, but by now Armor will have found out about them and will be looking for any tech-related crimes. We grew up together; he knows what to look for.”

Apple Bloom gave her an incredulous look. “An’ yer just gonna buy stuff?”

“Some things, yes,” Twilight said, grabbing another small handful of cheesy puffs. “We’ll need to make new contacts among the black market. Again, Armor was with us during the war. He knows who we knew, assuming they’re even still on the street.”

“Or alive,” Rainbow Dash said, pointing with the hand that held her bottle.

“Or alive,” Twilight agreed. “The point is, we need to avoid making a pattern that as a cop he can detect or as a layman he can put together. The good news is, he’ll probably be thinking we’re assembling either something conventional or something fatal. He won’t be looking for the kind of equipment I’ll be getting. At least, not at first.”

“Which brings you back to the question of money, darling,” Rarity pointed out.

“And that is the question,” Twilight admitted. “By the time the war ended, we’d sunk to using the same tactics as the Sirens. That’s not happening again. But unless we plan to become thieves on a major scale, and continually rob the people that we’re supposed to be helping...”

“Or you could simply rob the criminals themselves,” Rarity pointed out. “Every pusher, pander, and smuggler will have whatever money they make at their profession, will they not? And whenever you find the gangs’ major bases of operation, you can simply take their treasures for yourselves when you destroy their contraband.”

Twilight considered her.

“Well, hell,” Apple Bloom said. “There it is, right in front of us.”

“So, I guess we’re just stupid?” Rainbow Dash said, amused.

“There is nothing so obfuscated as an obvious fact,” Twilight said at last, shaking her head with a grin. “Thank you, Rarity. Alright, then. On to the next order of business.”

Apple Bloom nodded, stood, and fetched a quartet of stapled sheafs of paper from a side table. She handed one to each of her friends, keeping one for herself.

“You giving a presentation?” Rainbow grinned.

“Ayep,” Apple Bloom grinned back. “An’ ya got notes, so if you get bored an’ need to read ahead or anything, it’s all there.”

“Aw, thanks!”

“Anytime, hon.”

“Wait,” Twilight started, “I really need to—”

“Well, lemme get into this first,” Apple Bloom interrupted. “Been sittin’ on this all day.”

“But...”

“Aw, c’mon, Twi.”

Looking uncomfortable, Twilight lapsed into silence, but gestured for Apple Bloom to take the floor.

“Awesome,” Apple Bloom nodded. “Anyway, talkin’ on who we’re up against, there’s three major gangs in the city, not includin' Carousel an’ the cops.

“Every major street gang dabbles in prostitution, indirectly,” Apple Bloom went on. “They lean on the pimps for protection money, usually about twenty percent of whatever they make. The gangs don’t do a whole lot of bookkeepin’, but if they figure a pimp’s holdin’ out... bad things happen to ‘em. On the other hand, anybody messes with the pimps, the gangs make an example of ‘em.”

“Well, that’s fine,” Twilight shrugged. “We’re going after the gangs anyway, so punching pimps is just a bonus.”

“And I can find some honest shelters where you can drop off their victims,” Rarity offered.

“Good,” Twilight nodded. “That’s perfect.” Then, flipping through the pages, she asked, “What are the gangs’ specialties?”

“Well, the Dragon Lords are both the weakest and the strongest gang, at the same time.”

Rainbow Dash’s eyebrows went up. “How does that work?”

“Well, they don’t have the heavy ordinance of the ‘Dogs or the numbers of the Children. But they work security for Carousel, and Carousel owns the cops. They’re run by an older fella named Torch, an’ I guess his lieutenant is a livin’ nightmare.”

“That’s Black Heart, right?” Twilight asked, frowning at her copy of the notes.

Apple Bloom nodded. “Uh-huh. I heard stories about him when I was inside, made Baba Yaga sound like Snow White.”

“Waitaminute,” Rainbow Dash broke in, flipping pages. “You’ve got their preferred weapons listed as machine pistols and...”

“An’ swords,” Apple Bloom nodded. “Yep.”

“And they’re still alive.”

“Most of ‘em, yeah.”

“With swords and bikes.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Against other gang bangers.”

“Well, I mean, sometimes they use cars too,” Bloom allowed. “An’ guns. Plus, Black Heart is a nightmare. But yeah. Mostly, they ride around an’ use swords. I guess they’re just really into the whole anime thing.”

Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes. “Fucking weebs.”

Apple Bloom chuckled. “Anyway. They mostly specialize in sex work an’ gamblin’. If you see a casino or a strip joint, odds are they own it. Plus, they run the sex shops, coupla porno studios, an’ their own porn website.”

Twilight raised an eyebrow. “Servers?”

“Dunno, but likely in-town. But what matters most is the security gig I mentioned. Carousel employs their best as body guards an’ security staff. Exceptin’ Black Heart, of course. Which means, between them workin’ security for a major corporation an’ Carousel runnin’ the cops, they get to do pretty much whatever they want in broad daylight.”

Twilight nodded. “Okay, so... super well-connected, badass leadership, as-yet untraceable assets, and their tentacles are deeply immersed in a variety of technically legal businesses.”

“That’s about it.”

“Right. Next, please,” Twilight sighed, turning a page. “We’ll come back to them later, when we’re better prepared.”

“Next up is the Timberwolves,” Apple Bloom continued. “They specialize in weapon smugglin’, an’ they love their heavy weapons. Not the biggest gang, but it’s hard t’argue with rocket launchers an’ M-60s. Plus, they also supply the other gangs. Their leader is Diamond Dog. Big ol’ fella. Like, Bulk Biceps big.”

Rarity’s eyebrows went up. “Indeed.”

“And he’s not just huge,” Twilight added. “He’s been a career criminal for a long time. Violent type, experienced and smart. I read his book, years ago, View Through a Diamond Eye.”

Rainbow Dash cocked her head. “Any good?”

Twilight shrugged. “It was okay for what it was. The important thing for us is the glimpse it gave me into his personality.”

“Okay, and?”

“Smart. Smarter than anyone gives him credit for. Physically powerful, maybe close to Applejack levels of strength. The thing is, he’s also got something to prove. More even than you’d expect from a gang leader. Reading between the lines, I think he’s afraid of being afraid.”

Apple Bloom gave a bemused look. “So, what, we call him chicken and challenge him to a street race? Who is he, Martin McFlea?”

Twilight shrugged. “He’s too sophisticated for something so obvious, I think. But if he’s already off balance emotionally... maybe? We’ll have to play it by ear.”

“Anything else about the gang, darling?” Rarity interjected.

“Yeah, they’re big into monster trucks,” Apple Bloom answered. “Like, huge. They rent out the stadium every year, do a special rally starrin’ Diamond Dog an’ his freakin’ tank on wheels.”

“But nothing else on rackets?” Twilight asked.

“They got protection rackets all over their territory, but nothin’ else major.”

Twilight nodded. “Okay, that’s a possibility. What about the third...” she turned the next page and her jaw dropped. “Are you... serious...?”

“Yep,” Apple Bloom affirmed. “The third gang is the Children of Trixie.”

Rainbow Dash leaned on her fist where she sat, staring at the ceiling. “Gee, I wonder who their boss is.”

“Well, don’t scoff,” Apple Bloom said. “Trixie’s either got some real magic herself, or gotten good enough at stage magic that it don’t make no nevermind. She’s got the biggest gang around, income-wise an’ numbers-wise.

“Well, less like a gang,” she amended, “and more like, I guess a cult? Anyway, folks’ll die for her, an’ that’s a fact. I met some a’her followers in prison, an’ they were about as hard as you can get.”

“Huh,” Rainbow Dash said. “How the heck did that happen?”

“Probably one step at a time, just like the rest of us,” Twilight sighed. “Areas of commerce?”

“Hard narcotics, ‘specially opiates,” Apple Bloom answered. “Plus a designer drug called Oblivion.”

Rarity frowned. “Oblivion? That sounds familiar, somehow.”

“It’s pretty much everywhere,” Apple Bloom nodded. “An’ the Children are the only suppliers.”

“What does it do, though?”

“Turns you off.”

Rarity’s frown deepened. “I’m sorry, what?”

“It turns you off,” Apple Bloom repeated. “You stop feelin’ anything. You don’t hallucinate, you don’t black out, you just... stop. No pain, no lack of pain, no hope, no hopelessness... it’s beyond numb. Had a celly, she said it was like all the best parts of being dead.”

For a while, the room was silent. Then, Rainbow Dash spoke.

”Jesus Fucking Christ,” she said softly.

Apple Bloom nodded. “Yeah. It’s this black liquid, comes in li’l jars with eyedroppers, like for ear drops? You put one drop in a glass of somethin’, it dissolves instantly. Then you drink. It hits right away. An’ then you turn off.

“It don’t get less potent for regular users neither, like with other drugs,” she added. “But after a while, it gets so everythin’ about life... hurts. Every little touch, every little sound, even every emotion. An’ when you take bigger doses, it lasts longer. One gal I knew, she went up to four drops.”

“What happened to her?”

“She didn’t turn back on. Didn’t do anything. An’ after a while, she just... died.”

Again, the room was silent.

“Okay, I think we’ve got our first target,” Twilight said at last, shaking her head. “High income, the leadership is a known element, and Jesus Christ, we’ve got to get that stuff off the street.”

Apple Bloom nodded. “Sounds good. When do we start?”

Twilight reluctantly looked at her. “We don’t.”

Apple Bloom frowned in confusion. “What? Well, what’re we even talkin’ about...no,” she said, eyes widening. “No. No!”

“Apple Bloom—”

“No! No, you are not cuttin’ me outta this!” Bloom raged, throwing her notes at Twilight. “Not now, not after everythin’ I’ve done, everythin’ we’ve been through!”

Twilight started to rise, her hands spread in a placating gesture. “No, look, it’s not like that—”

“Oh, yeah? Just what is it like, then?” Apple Bloom demanded.

She stalked away, then spun around, poking an angry finger at Twilight. “It’s ‘cause I ain’t got magic, ain’t it!”

“What? No, it’s not that! I mean, okay, it’s not just that—”

“Then what else is it? You’re gettin’ rid of me now, before you find the new place...”

Then, Bloom’s eyes grew wide in realization. “You don’t trust me!”

Twilight gasped. “I... Apple Bloom, you know that isn’t true!”

And yet, within Twilight’s mind, it was as if a small voice spoke.

I could let her think that, Twilight realized. I could even encourage it. It would be easy. And if she’s hurt enough, angry enough, feels enough like she’s been used, then she’ll leave. She’ll stay away. Which means that she’ll survive, no matter what.

That’s worth it, isn’t it?

But before she could even decide, Rainbow suddenly grabbed Apple Bloom, hugging her hard.

Apple Bloom had just enough time to give a “Rainbow Dash, what...?”

“Please,” the blue woman whispered. “Please, just go. Just go, so I’ll know you’ll be safe.”

Apple Bloom hugged her back, stricken. “No!”

“Please,” Rainbow Dash begged again into her hair. “Please, Bloomers, please, just go...”

“But I can’t just leave you with this! I can’t!”

“Apple Bloom—”

“I promised!”

“I know you did. And that means everything to me. But... I love you.”

Apple Bloom froze, her eyes snapped open and wide over Rainbow Dash’s shoulder.

“I know,” Rainbow sighed, still holding her. “And it’s gonna be complicated, if it happens at all. But right now, if you died when you could’ve lived, I think... I think that might break me. I can’t do it, Bloomers. I can’t lose Rarity... and I can’t lose you.”

Almost against her will, Apple Bloom looked over to the couch, to Rarity.

There she sat, legs folded under her, beautiful as always. Eyes shining with unshed tears, like the purest sky. Staring back at her. Silently pleading.

She could’ve argued with Rainbow Dash, Apple Bloom realized sadly. And hell, when it came to Twilight, she coulda raised the god-damned roof.

But Rarity?

How could she? How could she even try?

Meanwhile, graceful as a gazelle, Rarity rose from where she sat, quietly stepping forward and hugging them both.

“We can discuss things later, my dears,” she said.

Clearing the hair away from Apple Bloom’s eyes, Rarity met her gaze, adding, “But for right now, Twilight is right. We need you to go. We all do. Please.”

Apple Bloom squeezed her eyes tightly shut, hugging both of them hard as she could. Her anger had abandoned her, leaving her nothing but hurt.

“It ain’t fair,” she managed.

“I know, my dear,” Rarity sighed. “It isn’t fair. And I am sorry. But...”

Slowly, reluctantly, Apple Bloom disentangled herself from her friends. She turned away, crossing her arms. Eyes shut, head down in defeat.

Finally, she spoke.

“Yeah, okay,” she said softly. “I’ll go.”

The airport was huge. And, after her years in prison, more than a little disorienting. After getting dropped off, Apple Bloom had felt lost more than once. Terrified that she’d somehow miss her flight, yet terrified of asking anyone for help, lest she be recognized.

But no. She’d made it here in plenty of time, exactly where she was supposed to be. Turning her back on everyone she’d sworn to help and protect, friends and family all, simply because they didn’t want her anymore.

Which wasn’t exactly true. Not really. Intellectually, she knew that. But reminding herself of that didn’t make her feel any less rejected, or any less alone.

Twilight had set up a new identity for her, with new cards and everything, in just a few hours. It was like she just couldn’t wait to be rid of her. Meanwhile, Rarity had cut Apple Bloom’s hair short, styled it up.

Now, Apple Bloom was wearing a long, black skirt and a Count Von Count T-shirt, with a leather jacket over. The black chucks were at least comfortable, and she could run and fight in them if needs be. Black lipstick made her face seem a different shade, with dark kohl around her eyes making them seem huge and intense. Her black studded choker and wristlets completed the outfit.

Not exactly a disguise so much as a seriously different look, but it seemed effective enough. Between that and Twilight running interference with the security cams and such, she seemed to be sailing right through. She’d been a little nervous when she hit security, but everything had gone fine.

From where she sat, Apple Bloom looked up at the flight schedule for about the hundredth time. The plane was running close to half an hour late. Her slight smile was bitter before it faded again. Apparently, some things were still the same, even after the war.

Eventually, she heard them call her flight over the intercom, ready for boarding. Apple Bloom sighed. Maybe Zecora would be glad to see her again, maybe not. But the Rainbooms had made it clear that she wasn’t really one of them.

Never was, I guess, she thought sadly. At least they told me to my face.

She took the violet hair bow out from her purse and considered it sadly. She’d felt so determined when she’d first put it on, back in prison. So confident. Maybe even proud. She’d had a plan, and sure enough, she’d carried it through against all odds. That bow had been her colors. It had meant loyalty. Faithfulness. Family.

Now, it was just a cheap piece of fabric. And it didn’t mean anything anymore.

A young orange man with green hair started towards her, smiling, probably about to ask her if she was okay. She flashed him her faux wedding band, and he nodded and wandered off.

She stood. For a moment, she looked back at Canterlot through the massive windows, the falling rain gently running down in rivulets along the panes.

Good luck, girls.

She considered once more the worn bit of cloth she was holding, then sighed and dropped it into the trash. Then, shouldering her backpack, she fell into line, walking slowly away from the tattered remnants of home.

Author's Note

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Ending credits: Africa, by Toto.

Episode 14. Children of Trixie: Ten Crack Commandments.

Rainbow and Twilight had started out small. It was only the two of them, after all, and they were both out of practice.

They’d begun by targeting bottom-level dealers and pimps. Minimum resources, sure. But also minimum risk. And in the meantime, opiates had been destroyed, and money had been pocketed.

Various pimps and dealers – barring the few who had needed an ER visit instead – had been dropped off here and there at super-speed, with a call made on their own phones to the cops to pick them up. There they’d be, beaten up and hanging upside-down, with a horseshoe-and-rainbow Rainbooms logo pinned to their chests. Which, besides sending a message, had also been fun.

But more importantly, the pimps’ girls had been dropped off at women’s shelters, and whatever addicts Rainbow and Twilight had found had been delivered to drug rehab centers and hospitals.

Neither of the women knew how Rarity had gotten her information, separating the honest women’s shelters and medical care facilities from the ones that were in the gangs’ pockets. Nor did they ask. They were just grateful for the help.

Meanwhile, they’d also been setting up shop in what they hoped would be their long-term headquarters.

Twilight had gotten the idea thinking back to the bomb shelter below her old grade school. She could still remember the few times she’d been allowed to get supplies from the then-converted storage sub-basement as the Teacher’s Assistant, years ago. The faculty had told her about the bomb drills held there in generations past, kids filing down to the room that would protect them from the nukes, one grade at a time, youngest first.

That had been many years prior, of course, when they themselves were kids. But the images had stuck in young Twilight’s mind, as she’d tried to even imagine growing up in an environment of such fear and uncertainty.

As far as choosing a current base of operations went, of course, her old grade school hadn’t even been considered. Returning to any site from her past would have been foolish. But Canterlot had plenty of old schools that dated back to the cold war, and all of them had been abandoned for years.

The steel doors were easily a foot thick, and the reinforced concrete walls and ceiling were probably much thicker. Massive sliding levers to either side controlled the several hundred pound steel bar that, in theory, could keep the doors secure even if bombs collapsed the building above completely.

There had been emergency rations, water purifiers, and, best of all, lots of space.

The first thing that Twilight had done was construct an air purification and recycling system, about the size of an air conditioner. Then she’d made another one for water, ensured the airtight nature of the place, and started reviewing the food situation. Within three days, the Rainbooms’ HQ was a bomb-proof, hermetically sealable enclosure, ready to withstand a siege of ten years or more in relative comfort.

Making it possible to access the Internet and cell service in such conditions had been tricky. Rainbow Dash didn’t know how her friend had done it, and after Twilight tried to explain it she’d felt even more confused. Finally, she’d just shrugged it off as ‘egghead stuff’ and focused on more immediate concerns. Like, you know, kicking pimps and chickenhawks in the ass at high speed until they couldn’t move anymore. That part never got dull.

Then, finally, there was the personal equipment.

The armored vests were easy, relatively speaking. Twilight had done some tinkering in the past, thinking she could design something to keep her brother and his fellow police safer. Now she’d just completed the thought, producing something flexible as cloth that could be worn under a loose T-shirt and still stop most bullets, knives, or even arrows.

But Twilight had spent something like a week going over weapon designs, continually editing and improving them. Which, as Rainbow Dash had pointed out, was a long time for her. But Twilight had insisted that there was no room for error, and under the circumstances, Rainbow Dash’d had to agree.

“So, we ready to start assembly?” she’d grinned at last.

“We are,” Twilight had grinned back. “The workspace is set up, I’ve found sellers for the components we can’t risk stealing, and you’ve gotten all the parts that we can. All we need now is the resources.”

Rainbow Dash had nodded. “And the new targets?”

“Well, so far, nobody we’ve busted has been slinging Oblivion,” Twilight had noted. “Apparently, for all that it’s used in almost every part of the city, being a designer drug makes it expensive and exclusive.”

“Okay, so where do we start? CEO meetings?”

Twilight had shaken her head. “Huh-uh, campus meetings.”

Rainbow Dash had blinked, then grinned.

“Sure,” she’d nodded. “Even with all the students relying on loans and grants, there would be enough guys there on their mom and dad’s dime...”

Twilight had nodded. “Exactly. Between stress and disposable income, there’s bound to be a market.”

And so, here Rainbow Dash was. On the campus of Canterlot University, on the first day of Culture Week.

The Quad was an open area in front of the Student Union, a courtyard acting as an intersection of wide cobblestone walkways. It had shade-giving trees around it, several statues of past historical persons of note, and a sculpted water fountain that was anonymously filled with green dye every March, pink dye every June, and red dye every December.

In another world, Rainbow Dash might have been a student there. Studying law by day, partying by night, and smuggling dye packets to the fountain in-between. There was also a culinary course, and there had been a time when Rainbow Dash had quietly been looking forward to the shenanigans she and Pinkie Pie would get up to if they’d attended together.

Sunset was going to study art, she sighed to herself, and become a teacher at Canterlot High. Rarity was gonna study fashion design, of course. She’d already qualified for a work-study scholarship through Carousel. AJ hadn’t been going to college, but she’d been determined that Apple Bloom would. And Twilight was probably gonna be a professor before she was twenty.

But now, Canterlot High was gone, along with most of their old friends. Carousel had gone from fashion design to hostile takeovers, investing in everything from third-world child labor to slum lording to fracking. And at Canterlot U, well...

She looked again through her binoculars and shook her head.

The Quad was filled with various booths for sororities, fraternities, social clubs and honor societies, as it was this time every year. Young men and women merrily chatting and hawking for one cause or another in the springtime sun, passing out literature, sharing drinks and snacks. There were even a few booths for businesses looking for interns here and there, and, sure enough, there was an orange booth for Carousel too.

And there, nestled among the rest like they belonged there, was the green booth with stars for the Children of Trixie.

Rainbow Dash just spent a few minutes lying on the rooftop where she was, gawking in sheer disbelief. Watching with wide eyes as a booth openly dedicated to a bunch of drug-slinging gangbangers happily chatted with students and passed out flyers.

What. The actual. Fuck.

And once, when campus security walked by, they just fucking waved to each other! Sure, the security guard might have looked a little nervous, but... this was normal?

“Rainbow Dash? Can you hear me?”

Twilight’s voice snapped her out of her astonishment, at least a little.

“Yeah, I hear you,” she said. “Earpiece works great. And yeah, it’s just like you said. I hadn’t wanted to believe it, but there they are, big as life and twice as ugly.”

“Okay, just remember to take your time.”

Rainbow Dash grinned. “You do remember who you’re talking to, right?”

She could hear the smile in Twilight’s voice as she answered, “Yes, I do. And once things get started, it’ll be fast, I know. Just be careful, okay? There’s going to be a lot of kids there.”

“Dude, most of these guys are our age.”

“You know what I mean.”

Rainbow sighed, raising her binoculars again. “Yeah. I know.”

“I’m still looking for any known criminals you can target,” Twilight went on, “But I have to be careful. Whoever Armor’s got working for him, they’re good.”

“Yeah, sure” Rainbow said, still watching. “But you’re better.”

“I hope so.”

Time passed. Frequently, Rainbow Dash stopped, squeezed her eyes, trying to refocus them.

It had been happening for a while, now. She’d first noticed when she’d been driving along the Loop, before they’d holed up at Rarity’s. But it hadn’t really affected anything, and anyway, she’d been tired.

Then, at Rarity’s place, it hadn’t even been a problem, so she’d kind of forgotten about it. It had also been easy to ignore when she’d been bouncing pimps and dealers. That was all, by definition, up close and personal.

But apparently, long-range stuff was... harder, somehow.

It wasn’t like the way Twilight had described being nearsighted, before she’d gotten her eyes fixed. Things weren’t blurry. It was like her eyes just... slid off of stuff at long distances.

The binoculars were definitely helping. But at the same time, when she was using them, there was a different kind of strain. It was weird, and she didn’t know how to explain or even describe it.

Granted, it wasn’t going to affect anything today. Beating up gangsters was going to be up-close, by definition. But it was getting seriously annoying. Inwardly, Rainbow Dash sighed. When they were done for the day, she should probably mention it to Twilight, just in case...

Then, Rainbow stared, her ruminations forgotten. She put down the binocs. Blinked hard. Stared through the binoculars again.

“Hey, Twilight?” she said at last. “I think they’re dealing out of the booth.”

“What?”

“Yeah. It was pretty on the down-low, so I don’t think they’re supposed to, even by gang standards. But I just saw goods for money exchanged.”

“Was it Oblivion?”

Rainbow squinted through the lenses, adjusting them hurriedly.

“I... can’t be sure,” she said at last. “What should I do?”

“Everything just got that much simpler,” came the reply. “If they don’t have what we need, they’ll know someone who will. Track the dealer, but don’t move yet. They’ll go on break eventually. When they do, they’ll probably go somewhere less crowded.”

“And then I swoop in, right?”

Back at their HQ, Twilight nodded as she typed, continuing to feed camera images of suspects through her updated facial recognition software.

“Like an eagle on a field mouse,” she said.

It was several hours before the dealer did, in fact, go on break. By which time Rainbow Dash was feeling less like some kind of avenging eagle and more like a caged chipmunk on caffeine.

“Okay! He’s going down the stairs, behind the Student Center!” she exclaimed. “He’s totally going down! Out of sight! Towards a less populated area! I’m gonna lose him! Can I go now?”

“Before you do—”

“Gonna lose him!”

“Before you do, though.”

“He’s getting away!”

“Just one thing.”

“Dude, you’re killing me here!”

“There should be five others, each in an identical green jacket,” Twilight explained, trying not to laugh. “Two in the same outside downstairs area he went to, one across the street at the bus stop, and two in the basketball field off of Philip K. Dick Boulevard.”

“Great! Peachy! Keen! Far out, solid, and right on! Can-I-go-now??”

“Yes, everything looks clear. You should have plenty of room.”

There were a few moments, punctuated by the sound of Twilight typing. Then, she spoke again.

“I’m trying to get confirmation on a final target—”

“Cool,” Rainbow Dash broke in. “Meanwhile, I’ve got something close to fifty grand and some bottles of Oblivion for you to check out.”

“What? Wait, where did you—”

“Aw, c’mon, Twilight.” The satisfaction in Rainbow Dash’s voice was clear as she reclined lazily on her rooftop. “It’s done. What, you forget who you were dealing with?”

Rainbow Dash could imagine Twilight hanging her head, grinning, headphones still on as she replied, “I guess I kinda did. Anybody hurt?”

“The bad guys were, a little,” Rainbow shrugged. “Nothing too bad. I left them with some evidence and a note at the security office.”

There was a brief pause filled with more frantic typing.

Rainbow Dash frowned, rolling into a crouch. “Twilight? What’s going on?”

“Gimme a sec.”

“’Kay.”

After about a minute, Twilight spoke again.

“Okay, Armor’s hacker has some pretty good software imbedded in the campus security system. It managed to start a trace before I caught on, but we’re fine.”

Rainbow Dash let out the breath she’d been holding.

“Okay, good. Also, holy crap. Glad you’re on my side.” She looked out over the campus, adding, “So, are we done here?”

“Almost. I located someone who should be pretty high up on the Children food chain. High roller, big fish with priors. Name’s Gabby Driver. He’s on campus, just off the dorm buildings.”

“Where?”

“Karel Čapek Drive, on the west side of the campus. He’s driving a big green van with a star on the back. You can’t miss it.”

Rainbow Dash grinned. “I’m all over it.”

“Just remember, we need him to talk,” Twilight said. Then, in her best James Earl Jones voice, she added, “No disintegrations.”

But just then, there was the unmistakable sound of gunfire over the connection.

“Rainbow Dash?”

She could hear Rainbow Dash asking someone if they were alright, and then yelling frantically.

“Rainbow Dash!” Twilight called desperately. “I heard shots! What’s going on!”

Author's Note

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Ending Credits: Ten Crack Commandments, by Biggie Smalls / The Notorious B.I.G.

Episode 15. Children of Trixie: Prison Song.

Looking through the binocs, finding the van was simple. Without them, though, it was an exercise in frustration. Not the least because this should be so fucking easy...!

With a flicker of concentration, Rainbow Dash became a poly-chromatic blur, crossing the campus in a fraction of a second.

I’ll just pause for a second when I get close, just to make sure, she thought. No problem.

There were several vans parallel parked along the street, and of course a few students on the walk or meandering on the grass here and there. But that wouldn’t be a problem; it would all be over in an eyeblink.

Rainbow Dash stopped maybe forty feet away from the parked vehicles, and squinted.

What the hell? Are you serious?

She blurred again, pausing twenty feet behind the van in a sprint start pose.

There we go.

She grinned as she focused on the huge star painted across its hatchback and rear window.

Aww, yeah.

Then that window exploded in gunfire, the gangsters within shooting through the glass rather than take the time to lean out the sides.

Faster than thought, Rainbow Dash instinctively started to roll out of the way of the machinegun fire. But then, she remembered.

Oh, shit. The students.

Refocusing her will, she forced the bullets to slow down to a crawl. Cursing her newfound sight problems, she tried to track their trajectories, tried to predict what students would be in danger. But her eyes just seemed to slide off anything and anyone further away than around fifteen or twenty feet; closer for anything as small as bullets. And no matter how fast she made herself and her senses, she couldn’t make the bullets stop.

She wasted a valuable millisecond or two seething at herself.

Then, she was in motion again.

She had to be careful. Stupidly careful. If she moved someone too suddenly, she could accidentally kill them. But if she moved too slow, they could get shot. And the bullets, hard as they were to focus on, just kept coming.

The first few people, she moved out of the line of fire completely. The next dozen or so she had to settle for pushing to the ground.

But at the last, the incoming round was just too damned close. If Rainbow Dash moved the guy out of the way fast enough, he’d mash into the ground with such force that he could be seriously hurt. Maybe even killed.

There was only one obvious choice, and no time.

Rainbow Dash screamed as the bullet entered her upper back just below her shoulder blade, rolling forward to the ground, taking the last student with her. She heard the screech of tires as the van took off, the idiots inside still firing, hopefully into the air and not into the crowd. Meanwhile, some of the students and faculty were drawing their own weapons and returning fire.

Rainbow looked down at the poor astonished dude she was sprawled over. “Hey man, you okay?”

Completely flabbergasted, he nodded.

“Cool.” Ignoring the pain, she forced herself up onto her hands and knees, looking around. “Is everybody... oh, no,” she stared. “No!”

Lying face-down across the street, her backpack in the grass beside her and blood on her back, was a young woman. She wasn’t moving.

Rainbow staggered at unevenly enhanced speed towards her. “No, no, no, NO, NO!”

Rainbow reached her as the gunfire stopped and knelt down beside her, frantic. What should she do? Should she run her to a hospital? No. No, moving her was too risky. Maybe apply direct pressure to the wound? That part sounded right...

Then, the student coughed. Moaned.

Rainbow’s shoulders slumped a little. Oh, thank God.

“Hey,” she said. “Hey, don’t move, okay? You’ve been shot. Just lie still.”

“Owwwww...”

“Yeah,” Rainbow said, wincing a little at her own injury, “I hear ya.”

“Rainbow Dash!” Twilight’s voice broke in. “I heard shots! What’s going on!”

“Gabby got away,” Rainbow said. “We’ve got a casualty. She’s shot in the back, I can’t just leave her.”

“Understood. I’ve alerted on-campus security that the shooting’s over and it’s safe to advance. Also, I called 911.”

By this time, Rainbow Dash had her pocketknife out and was swiftly but carefully cutting the woman’s shirt open. “Yeah, what good’s that gonna do?”

“The current mayor’s son is attending. I told them he was hit.”

Despite everything, Rainbow Dash grinned. “Heh. Yeah, that’ll do it.” Then, to the student, she added, “Okay, let’s take a look at you, hold still.”

The young woman’s voice was bleary. “Did I mention ow?”

“Yeah, you did. Just stay cool, and... well, son of a bitch.”

“What?” Twilight and the student asked at once.

“I can see the bullet. It’s like, right there.” Glancing over at the backpack, she said, “You... carry all your books around with you, don’t ‘cha?”

“Um, yeah?”

“Well, I’ve got good news and bad news...”

A short time later, Rainbow Dash was lying on her stomach, grumpy and shirtless with her arms crossed under her chin. Meanwhile, Twilight carefully straddled her waist, the better to minister to her wound from a good angle.

“I mean, sure, I left her enough cash to get a new laptop and books,” Rainbow Dash was saying, “but still, what the fuck, you know? –ow!”

“Sorry,” Twilight said, examining the bullet she’d just removed. Then she whistled. “Armor piercing round. No wonder it got past your vest.”

Dropping the bullet into a nearby pan, she added, “I still think Rarity would have been a better choice for this.”

“Maybe. But then she’d want me to stay for a week or something. And we were just there. You said yourself we need to minimize contact.”

“I know I did,” Twilight grimaced. “It’s just... stitches, you know?”

“It’ll be fine.”

“Okay.”

“Ow.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s cool. Anyway,” Rainbow sighed, “this all happened because I fucked up. I mean, I knew I was having trouble seeing, and I still went forward. And that girl could have died. If her shot had been an AP, she would have.”

Twilight paused, considering.

“Actually, it might have been an armor piercing round,” she said. “I’ve read that most conventional ammunition, such as the nine-millimeter or the two-two-three, will penetrate two or three textbooks and then stop. From what you described, she had five or six books crammed in there. Plus, we don’t know whether her laptop might have been armored...”

“Um, Twilight?”

“Right, sorry. Focusing.”

“And anyway, that’s beside the point! The point is that if I’d handled things right, there wouldn’t have been any shooting. Those people wouldn’t have needed to be saved, no matter what the bad guys were packing.”

Rainbow sighed again, burying her face miserably in her arms. “Christ, I’m an asshole.”

Twilight shook her head. “I won’t say it wasn’t a mistake, obviously it was. But you didn’t really understand how bad it would be until you were there. The senses can be funny that way. Remember, I went for two years before anyone realized I needed glasses, including me.”

“Sure, I hear you. But what I’m saying is, I got lucky. And we can’t afford to rely on luck.”

This time it was Twilight who sighed, leaning back a little as she spoke.

“No, we can’t,” she said. “And the tragic truth is, the risk will always be there. Granted, right now things are so dire that if we do nothing then the risk is even worse...”

“That’s no excuse.”

“No,” Twilight acknowledged. “It’s not. And we do need to minimize that risk, bring it down to as close to zero as possible. But all we can do is our best. For all our powers, we’re not superheroes.

“All that being said, you also made the right call. When it came down to it, you took the bullet instead of that one guy. And you stayed with that other girl until help arrived.”

“Okay, fine,” Rainbow grumbled. “Great. Cool. I’m awesome. We knew that. Meanwhile, how do we keep this from happening again?”

“Well, I need to do more research to be certain, but this sounds like it may be a side effect of your years of solitary confinement. I’ve read that there are a variety of long-term effects that can result from that. And difficulty with long-distance vision is one of them.”

“And we fix this by...?”

“I don’t know yet,” Twilight admitted. “I don’t recall there being much research on the subject, so we may have to assemble the tools necessary for me to examine you properly. And since it’s probably neurological in nature, we’ll need to examine your central nervous system.”

“Well, examining my brain shouldn’t take long,” Rainbow grumped.

“Stop that.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Twilight said, stitching again.

“Ow.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Author's Note

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Ending Credits: Prison Song, by System of a Down.

Episode 16. Children of Trixie: Sound and Vision.

Twilight turned as the massive steel doors opened. Her lab coat was on and her hair was tied back, but her frown was one more of worry than concentration.

“How’s it goin’?” Rainbow Dash flashed her friend a grin as she pushed the doors closed behind herself, overstuffed plastic bags in her arms.

Twilight sighed wordlessly, removing and hanging up her coat.

Taking off the black wig and dark glasses that served as her disguise, Rainbow Dash immediately sobered. “That bad, huh?”

“No, it isn’t.” Twilight replied uncomfortably. “Well, not exactly, anyway. That’s not the problem. I just...” Her voice trailed off as she made vague, nervous gestures in the air.

Rainbow gave her a fond, knowing smile. “It’s fine, Twilight. Honest. I just need to get out occasionally, you know?”

“Of course you do! And I certainly wouldn’t want you to just stay indoors all night and day. I just...”

Twilight sighed again, adding, “It’s not your fault. It’s just... for some reason, I just can’t relax when you’re gone. I’m sorry...”

Rainbow Dash flashed her a reassuring grin on her way to their kitchen area, setting down the overstuffed grocery bags. “Hey, it’s okay. I’ve got this.”

“I know you do, but that’s also my point! I’m fully aware that you’re perfectly capable and responsible... but somehow, knowing that doesn’t help. This isn’t a logical response.”

Throwing herself into a recliner, she went on, “And I know that, too. It’s an emotional response to our situation, not an intellectual one. And it’s also frustrating that knowing that doesn’t help. I’m not some teenaged high-schooler anymore, I should be past this!”

“Well, hey, maybe you just need more time.”

Twilight crossed her arms. “Hmmmph.”

Several moments passed. Eventually, their eyes met, Twilight’s stern look and Rainbow’s undisguised amusement. Then the tension broke apart, spilling giggles between them both.

After a moment, Rainbow Dash suggested, “Maybe I could keep my ears on when I’m out?”

“Yes, but isn’t part of the point for you to get some ‘you time’ without answering to anyone else?”

“Well...”

Twilight rose, giving her friend a rueful smile as she said, “I appreciate the thought. And if you feel like sharing something when you’re out, I’m always happy to hear. But the point is: you need time to yourself in the open, I’m trying to worry less, and it’s still a work in progress on my end. It’s just frustrating, is all.”

“Well, if you think of something I can do to help, let me know, okay?”

“I will.”

Twilight returned to her worktable, and Rainbow Dash continued putting groceries away.

After a few moments, Rainbow said, “Actually, today was pretty cool.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I mean, technically, I was made, sort of. But, it was in a good way,” Rainbow said over her shoulder, stashing dairy goods into the fridge. “Everything but the alcohol was free. The guy at the counter was all, Here, just take it. I’ll write it off. It’s the least I can do. I kept saying, no, we can afford it, but he wouldn’t take my money. So, I guess the Anon-A-Miss streams are working. The civvies already know we’re here to help; we just need to follow through...”

Then, her voice trailed off, and she sighed, hanging her head where she crouched.

“Sorry, Twilight,” she said. “I’m an idiot.”

Twilight Sparkle shook her head from where she stood, back turned. “It’s fine. And you’re not an idiot, not ever in my experience.”

Her voice was almost steady as she continued, “Besides, I can’t expect you to never mention any of the things that Sunset’s done. Or how we and the civilian population might benefit from them.”

Busying herself again, she added, “I appreciate your being considerate, but y-you shouldn’t have to walk on eggshells around me. And I agree with you, it was unnecessary, but it was a nice gesture. And a good sign.”

Watching her carefully, Rainbow Dash nodded. “Yeah. Heck, I would have argued more, but if I had it would have drawn attention and maybe gotten him busted. This is how crazy our lives are right now.”

Twilight had to smile. “Yes, but it’s a good kind of crazy.” Then, the smile vanished again as she added, “And without someone like Sunset and her Anon-A-Miss broadcasts, it is unlikely we’d be able to effect the kind of social change we need.”

Finally giving up on trying to keep her hands from fidgeting, Twilight started pacing instead.

“And it’s important that the people know we’re on their side,” she said, her words coming faster and faster as she moved. “And she did help us a lot when we busted you out, that shouldn’t be forgotten!”

Rainbow Dash’s voice was gentle with concern. “Um, Twilight...?”

“Not to mention everything that we went through together, everything we shared, everything we said, everything we planned together, we... we...!”

Twilight’s legs buckled under her and suddenly Rainbow Dash was holding her in a fierce hug, Twilight hugging her back desperately, clinging to her friend as though she were drowning.

“Why am I still doing this?” Twilight sobbed. “Why does it still hurt like this? It was years ago...!”

“You’ve got a right to your pain,” Rainbow Dash said quietly, still holding her. “And you were in a coma, remember? Plus everything else that’s going on. Give yourself time to heal.”

Eventually, the storm passed. Twilight noticed that the two of them were sitting on the couch. And apparently had been for some time.

“Sorry,” Twilight sniffled.

“Hey,” Rainbow Dash smiled, giving her a final squeeze before releasing her, “that’s what friends are for.”

“I, um... I got snot on your shirt,” Twilight said quietly.

Rainbow Dash chuckled. “Shirts wash.”

They both rose. While Rainbow Dash walked to the laundry area, Twilight wiped her eyes a little, then headed back to her worktable, where the tissues were.

“So, anyway, you were looking pretty I’m-just-finishing-stuff-up when I came back,” Rainbow Dash observed, throwing her old shirt into the washing machine. “That means you’ve got it all figured out, right?”

Just as she finished speaking, Twilight happened to very loudly blow her nose. Both women shared a look, and then another brief bout of laughter.

“Well, I have our starting points established,” Twilight said at last, tossing the tissue into the trash, “and my research is for the nonce concluded. As a result, I have good news, more good news, and then bad news.”

“Okay.”

“The first good news is, I’ve tracked down Gabby. He lives in one of the complexes that Trixie owns, so we’ll need to plan carefully to avoid casualties. But we should be able to pick him up as soon as we’re ready.”

Rainbow Dash finished dumping more clothes into the washer, dropped the lid and hit Start. “Awesome. Are we ready now? ‘Cuz I gotta tell ya, I feel pretty ready now.”

“Actually, that brings me to the second good news. I think I’ve isolated the cause of your visual problems. And I believe I have a short-term solution that may eventually lead to a long-term solution.”

Rainbow gave a shrug as she pulled on a clean shirt. “Okay, hit me.”

Twilight produced what looked like a pair of lightweight, tinted sports glasses.

“These should help compensate for your difficulties in seeing long distances,” she said. “It’s not a perfect solution, and you’ll need to get used to using them. They’re kind of like the sewing glasses I made for Rarity. Only, with added correction.”

“Okay,” Rainbow Dash nodded. “So, do I just start wearing ‘em?”

“First, sit back down.”

Rainbow tried not to smirk. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. This could be extremely disorienting.”

Rainbow Dash threw her hands up good-naturedly.

“Okay, fine. Sitting down,” she said, settling back onto the couch. “Now gimme the goods.”

Twilight handed her the glasses, and immediately Rainbow Dash donned them.

“Yeah, okay, so what’s so... woah,” she said, looking around. “Woah.”

“Yes.” Twilight nodded.

Rainbow blinked repeatedly. She looked around the spacious area again, then slowly found herself tilting helplessly sideways. “Wow. Holy crap.”

Twilight nodded again. “Exactly. Give yourself time. It’ll take a little bit, but the brain adjusts to colored lenses and prescription glasses, so it should adjust to this.”

Rainbow Dash blinked again, then made herself refocus on Twilight. “Should?”

Twilight gave a small shrug. “Like I said before, there’s not much peer-reviewed research on the subject.”

“Yeah, okay. That works. Wow. How long should I wear ‘em?”

“No more than an hour, at first,” Twilight answered, turning back to her worktable. “Less if you start feeling strain instead of just disorientation. Also, please let me know when you feel adjusted and you want to walk. You should probably have a spotter at first.”

Rainbow grinned a little sheepishly. “I guess I can’t say anything after coaching you for so long.”

“Nope,” Twilight agreed happily as she worked. “No room to argue.”

Rainbow sighed, then shrugged, pushing herself upright again. “Yeah, okay. I guess that’s fair. But you mentioned a long-term solution?”

“Well, I’ve structured the glasses to encourage adaptation in such a fashion that your eyes and brain should be trained to overcome the effects of your confinement. Over time, you should need them less and less. I can’t guarantee it, but in theory you should eventually be able to dispense with them entirely, and the last little bit of repair should happen automatically at that point.”

“Okay, that is seriously awesome,” Rainbow said, setting the glasses to one side. Then, with a grateful smile, she added, “Thanks, Twilight.”

“Any time.”

Twilight turned to face her again, smiling, a familiar-looking pair of glasses on her own face.

“As I implied before, I added a few additional features,” she said. “Infra-red, thermograph, enhanced night vision, and a binocular zoom feature. And while I was at it, I figured, what the heck, I might as well make another for myself. Minus the medical adjustments, of course.”

“You know, I remember now, you really went overboard when you made Rarity’s set,” Rainbow grinned. “So, you just tacked that extra stuff to mine, right?”

“Uh-huh. In your case, I changed the zoom setting to long range, like I said. I kept mine like the original design, for close-up work. We’ve also got straps to keep them on in a firefight, of course.

“Oh, and I improved our earpieces. They’ll filter out high decibel noise better than the old set, and we’ll have one in each ear instead of one-plus-earplug.”

Rainbow Dash gave a puzzled frown. “Be-cause...?”

“Because even though it’s on a broadcast frequency, with the stereo settings I’ve added they’ll give a sense of direction. So, we can tell where we are from one another if we get separated. Even in a firefight.”

“Okay, that’s weirdly awesome. And the guns?”

“Almost ready. They’re not guns, though, they’re stunners.”

“Whatever,” Rainbow Dash said, reclining contentedly. “What kind of ammo are we talking about?”

“Well, to oversimplify, each stunner has something akin to an integral micro cold-fusion battery, only it runs off of magical energy instead of a traditional atomic reaction. Their stacks contain self-terminating safeguards, of course, but that shouldn’t matter since they passively draw from the aura of any nearby power sources compatible with their energy matrices.”

Rainbow Dash had to smile. “Uh-huh. See, this is what’s so great about living with you, Twilight. I’m always learning something. Like, this new usage of the word ‘oversimplify’ that I’d never heard before.”

Twilight gave a good-natured eyeroll in response, adding, “By which I mean, they’ll never run out of energy, so long as they’re used by or near either a being or an object of significant magical power,”

Rainbow’s eyebrows went up. “Really.”

“Really. I got the idea from the magic detecting amulet that I built, years ago. So, it’s really more innovation than invention.”

“Rrrrright,” Rainbow Dash said, uncertainly. “So, no changing clips? Ever?”

“Exactly. The stunners can overheat, in a sense, but there’s a gauge along the top so you’ll know how close it is to temporarily shutting down. And there’s an additional cooling mechanism that you can activate manually if desired. It’s a button on the side.”

“Huh. Okay, wait, how does that even work? I mean, if it’s magic, then why...?”

“Well, you see—” Twilight began happily.

“Nope,” Rainbow interrupted, holding up one hand. “Nope, nope, nope. Never mind, not important, not gonna ask. You say it does the thing, Iiiii believe you.”

Twilight giggled, but then turned serious again.

“Anyway, that’s all the good news,” she said.

Rainbow nodded. “Yeah, I was wondering what the bad news was.”

“Well, I’ve analyzed the samples of Oblivion you gave me.”

“Yeah? And?”

“It’s... not a drug.”

Rainbow Dash frowned. “Uh, what? What do you mean, it’s not a drug?”

“It’s not a drug,” Twilight repeated. “Not in any conventional sense. It’s a potion.”

Rainbow Dash paused, mouth still open, then closed it again.

“Oh,” she said. “Oh, shit.”

“Yes.”

“Waitaminute, though. How is that even possible? The plinth is broken. Gone!”

“I don’t think that matters,” Twilight said. “Even on our world, alchemy can be powerful when properly applied. It still requires magical energy, of course, but the execution revolves more around skill and knowledge than personal power. At the same time, the results, if done properly, can be amazing. Especially in the fields of alteration and transmutation, and most especially in charm and other mind-based effects.”

“So, it’s... not pony magic.”

“Probably not. Granted, human magic is almost always intangible. Dealing with mental or spiritual matters, probability manipulation, that kind of thing. But there are exceptions, and alchemy is one of them. Properly done, it can... kind of bend the rules, I guess, for lack of a better term.”

Cocking her head, she added, “Still, in a sense, I suppose we should be glad.”

“How so?”

“Remember, alchemy still requires energy. It’s still magic. So, considering that we’re dealing with an alchemist who can not only create something like this, but also has the sheer raw power to just crank it out in enough quantity to affect a city’s drug trade... maybe we should be glad they decided to create Oblivion, instead of doing something far worse.”

“As far as we know.”

Twilight’s expression turned sour. “Well... yes. As far as we know.”

Rainbow Dash sighed, putting her head in her hands. “Okay, so back to the point. What I’m hearing is, basically, we can’t just cut off the supply for this stuff.”

“Correct.”

“We have to take out the cook. Nothing else will even slow it down.”

“Also correct. On the other hand, when we take down the alchemist, in theory no one else can replicate it. Remove the maker, remove the product.”

Looking up at her friend cautiously, Rainbow Dash asked, “Okay, so why is this bad news? Sounds pretty straight-forward to me. No more cook, no more Oblivion.”

“Because I think I know who the alchemist is,” Twilight said uncomfortably. “If I’m right, it’s someone who’s been studying magic for years. Someone who, in defiance of all odds or expectations, even started manifesting magic on a major physical level back when we were students.

“Someone who, when the chips were down, succeeded in an act of teleportation, one of the most difficult acts of non-ritual magic in either world. And since then, she’s had only time and opportunity to grow as a magician. And Apple Bloom warned us that she might have gained real magic in the interim.”

For a moment, Rainbow Dash just sat with her face in her hands. Then she leaned back again, staring at the ceiling with a sigh.

“Well, shit,” she said. “Just when I was hoping this would be simple.”

“Yes,” Twilight agreed, sitting in another chair nearby. “Granted, we can probably find her opium suppliers, once we get to Gabby. And if she’s got any local farms, we can destroy them, too. And of course we can imprison her dealers, try to cripple her supply chain. But at the end of the day, Oblivion won’t be off the street until we take down Trixie herself.”

Looking even more uncomfortable, she added, “Which also means dealing with whatever is giving her this level of magical power.”

Rainbow Dash nodded, putting her new glasses back on. “Uh-huh. Any ideas what that might be?”

Twilight looked away.

“Just one,” she said quietly. “And if I’m right, this may be partially our fault.”

Author's Note

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Ending Credits: Sound and Vision, by David Bowie

Episode 17. Children of Trixie: The Woman Who Sold the World.

She leaned against the lamp post under its shallow light, waiting, staring at the street and her shoes. Aquamarine hair almost obscuring her light green face.

After a while, she looked up again, trying to remember what the sky had looked like away from the city lights, how completely full of stars it had been. What it had felt like, years ago, when she’d first arrived at Camp Everfree, seeing them fully for the first time.

Then, she looked down again, trying to remember the last time she’d felt anything but misery and regret.

Probably a little after the memory stone was broken, she decided. Things had been good for a while, once that hellish thing was gone. She’d had people she could share things with. People she could do things with.

Hell, a few of them had even understood what she’d been going through. Which had been weird, but weird in a good way. Sunset and Fluttershy in particular had both known what it was like, always being on the outside, looking in.

And Twilight had found a way to measure what turned out to be, not other people just ignoring or forgetting her, but a special magic of her own. And from there, the Rainbooms had worked to help their new friend actually control her powers.

But even that memory had its thorns, and it stung her when she held it too closely.

She’d been outside with the rest of the Garden Club when the Sirens’ goons had screeched to a halt in front of the school, launching missile after missile into the building. She could still remember the sudden, jarring impact against the ground when Principal Celestia had knocked her and her fellow students down, shielding them as best she could. The deafening blast and the taste of blood, and the high-pitched whine that had followed.

Later, the green girl had found out that similar things had happened all over the campus. Luna at the far side of the building, shoving whatever students she could downstairs into the basement, screaming at them to run, to get cover. Cranky Doodle pulling others into the men’s room, shoving them into a corner, covering them with his own body. And a few others, here and there, saving whoever they could in the bare seconds before the building had been brought down upon them.

A few of the students had survived. Only a few.

But so far as she knew, none of the teachers had.

Even after that, though, she’d stayed away from the violence. Even when the Sirens had divided the city up between them. Even when Sunset and the rest had started taking up arms.

When the Siren War had started in earnest, she’d gone to college. At the time, it had seemed the best way to honor the dead, to repay them. And with that thought urging her forward, she’d taken sixteen, eighteen hours a semester, desperately racing towards the chance to make the world a little better than it was.

A while later, the Siren War was over, and the city was as saved as it was going to get. The Sirens were dead, along with Rarity, Applejack, and too many others. Twilight was comatose. And for their folly, the surviving Rainbooms were imprisoned, with Rainbow Dash slated for execution.

Which was unjust, in her opinion. And cruel. But no less than what she had expected.

And so, in the aftermath of her city’s horrors and her own, she’d mourned, grown, and ultimately graduated. Not at the top of her class by any means. But with a double major in business and ecological studies, she’d known she’d finally be able to make things better. She could fight for the environment, whether from within the government or the business sector. She could help pave the way for functional recycling, green energy, lower carbon emissions...

...and then, Trixie had found her.

As a kid, it had never occurred to the green girl to think of her own magic, so called, as anything but a curse. But after making friends with the Rainbooms and Trixie, that had changed. And in the intervening years, she’d gotten better and better at not only turning her obfuscating powers off, but at strengthening their effects when they were on.

So, when Trixie had sought her out, she’d assumed it had been as a friend; it hadn’t even occurred to her to hide until it was too late. And when she’d realized, when she’d tried to escape, tried to make Trixie just forget that she’d ever known her...

...Trixie had just given a careless wave of her hand, pinning her to the wall in an aura of jade.

And with eyes blazing their new strange, green glow, in between her prisoner’s screams of pain, Trixie had explained to her exactly how things were going to be from then on. Taken a lock of her leaf-green hair. Told her what it was for.

And then, Trixie had just... let her go. Rightfully secure in the knowledge that she would never dare show defiance again, no matter how trifling.

Back in the present, thunder growled lazily, threatening more spring rain. She sighed, hugging herself miserably. In a way, it had been her own damned fault. She’d thought she could be happy. Have a life, with friends and a career, like normal people could. Make a difference. Make things better.

Fool.

For the thousandth time, Wallflower Blush cursed alien magical stones and the price they demanded. The caustic effect that they seemed to have on the soul. First, there had been the memory stone. Now, there was the green jewel in that cloak clasp that Trixie wore, her so-called Alicorn Amulet.

In name, Wallflower was a lieutenant in the Children of Trixie, second only to Trixie herself. And if the rank-and-file worshiped Trixie as their goddess, then they certainly saw Wallflower Blush as their High Priestess.

But in reality, Wallflower was a slave. She knew it perfectly well. And rare, indeed, was the occasion that Trixie let her forget that.

The green limousine glided to a halt in front of her, breaking her out of her reverie. She winced as she heard the doors unlock.

Maybe Trixie’ll be in a good mood, she thought. Or at least, maybe she’ll punish somebody else.

Hating herself for that last thought, Wallflower Blush made herself push off the pole and climb in, there to speak with her great and powerful mistress once more.

The limo was armored, of course, though Wallflower suspected that was more for Trixie’s convenience than her protection.

Wallflower sat, closing the door behind herself, enclosing herself in the near-darkness of Trixie’s mobile throne room. As was often the case, the partition divider between driver and passengers was raised, the lights in the rear compartment dimmed. The interior was opulent, varying shades of forest, lime, and Kelly green. But in the presence of the Great and Powerful Trixie, none of that mattered.

Trixie’s eyes cast an emerald light as Wallflower sat, the same glow as the spherical jewel the magician wore at her throat. And that alien light illuminated the space more than enough, even as it deepened every shadow into a far greater darkness.

“There are things not right in the world, Wallflower Blush,” Trixie said in an almost reptilian tone, fingers steepled. “Things that should not be. Missing product. Missing funds. Followers deserting their posts. Trixie finds herself lacking what she desires, and what an upcoming step in her plans will require. You may now explain to Trixie why this is.”

Wallflower cleared her throat nervously. “Right. Um. So, I found out what happened to your dealers. Turns out somebody did a run through campus, ripping them all off and then turning them in.”

Trixie’s eyebrows raised. “Turning... them... in?”

“Um, yeah. And basically unharmed, all of them. I guess they’re being held without their rights or something, so they haven’t called... but they’re all alive. Just locked up.”

“Mmm. Trixie is confused. Are you sure that you haven’t left anything out?”

Wallflower swallowed. “Only that, since they’re all still alive, they could ID who did it. Plus, I’ve got confirmation from Gabby. He managed to get away.”

“That was the sordid shoot-up on campus that Trixie heard about, yes?”

“Um, yeah. Yeah, it was.”

The magician nodded. “Trixie understands. But tell Trixie, who was responsible for these thefts?”

Wallflower wrung her hands, then rubbed them on her pants. “It was... it was Rainbow Dash. She’s back in the game. Which can only mean that Twilight and the rest are, too.”

She paused, swallowing again before adding, “I think we should skate.”

The robed woman across from her gave a dismissive wave. “The Great and Powerful Trixie does not run from a challenge, Wallflower Blush. And she certainly does not ‘skate.’ Trixie thinks you should know that by now.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Shhhhh.” Trixie said quietly, one finger upraised as though admonishing a child. “Trixie is thinking.”

Wallflower swallowed again, and said nothing. The shadows veered wildly as Trixie looked out a side window for several moments. Then she focused her glowing orbs upon Wallflower again with an inhuman steadiness.

“Trixie has come to a decision,” she pronounced. “Twilight having her people spare those dealers is most certainly a statement. One saying that either she has become too weak to kill, or so powerful that she no longer needs to.”

“And... you’re saying she’s become that powerful?”

The magician’s smile was cold. “No, but Trixie is certain that Twilight thinks so.”

She paused, fixing Wallflower with her luminous eyes. Not for the first time, Wallflower’s mind flashed back to an old cartoon she’d seen when she was a kid. About mice that lived in a tiny church or abbey or something.

And there had been this one scene, where a serpent had been tracking the mice, hissing its own name as it hunted them, finally fixing them in its hypnotic stare. And the mice it had caught just froze, trembling. Waiting to be eaten. Too afraid to move, too afraid to look away.

She hadn’t understood what that might be like, as a kid.

She knew she understood it now.

Finally, Trixie spoke again.

“When you were gathering this information, Trixie imagines you had to do so in the police station, correct?”

“Um... yeah?”

“Did anyone see you?”

Wallflower let out the breath she’d been holding, and gave what she hoped was a suitable shrug. “Nobody who’ll remember. Half of the cameras were down, and avoiding the other half was no big deal.”

Trixie nodded, smiling. “That’s perfect. Trixie is pleased. Did you find anything else?”

“Yeah, I did,” Wallflower affirmed eagerly. “Twilight’s apparently public enemy number one so far as the cops are concerned, including her brother. He’s got a special task force just for her, including a hacker on loan from somewhere.”

“Oh? From where?”

“Dunno yet. But I got you a picture of her.”

Wallflower handed her a print-out of a young woman in glasses with crimson hair, hunched over a keyboard in a room with concrete walls. Trixie took and examined it, her smile turning more contemplative. She reached a blue hand behind her and rapped on the partition twice, and the limo began to slow.

“This is very interesting,” she said. “You have done very well, indeed. Trixie is very pleased with you, Wallflower Blush. Do keep Trixie appraised.”

“Um... yeah. I’ll do my best.”

The limo stopped. Taking Trixie’s last words as a dismissal, Wallflower opened the door. She was halfway out when Trixie spoke again, very quietly, very dangerously.

“Oh, and one more thing, Wallflower Blush.”

Wallflower froze, one foot on the curb. “Yeah?”

“Contact Gabby. Let him know... he should run.”

Wallflower’s face paled to a delicate mint color. She looked back just long enough to give a brisk nod and exited the vehicle, walking away as quickly as she dared.

Trixie had scarcely noticed Wallflower’s rushed exit, nor even when the vehicle began to move once more. For her mind was on other, more triumphant matters. Matters not of mere destiny or fate, but of absolute superiority of will.

After all, Wallflower Blush had her paltry powers by a whim of chance, nothing more. Likewise the Rainbooms, with their magic crystals from wherever. Even the Sirens, so far as Trixie could tell, had simply lucked into their magic, whether by birth or by chance.

But not she.

Not Trixie.

For it had been Trixie and Trixie alone who had looked upon the Sirens’ newfound power with something other than a common, animalistic fear. Trixie who had observed that their amulets had been replaced, not with a new set of crimson jewels, but a trio of mystical green gems. Trixie who had truly appreciated what that particular change had implied.

For Trixie had known, even then, that power possessed in the hand could be passed from one hand to another. Which meant that such power could be taken.

It had required time. And patience. Fortunately, Trixie had been both cunning and wise. For Trixie had known, even from the beginning, that all she had to do was wait for the proper moment. And then, she could claim what was rightfully hers.

The first had been the most difficult. Adagio had been the closest the three had had to a leader. The Rainbooms had targeted her first, figuring that without her, the other two would quarrel more than actually coordinate. And, Trixie had to admit, they’d been mostly right.

The hard part had been getting in at the right time: after the fight, and after the Rainbooms had departed; yet before anyone else came in to claim treasures that they could neither use nor understand. Fortunately, the Great and Powerful Trixie had by that time completely mastered every nuance regarding the art of teleportation.

There had been a close call when she’d materialized in front of a few straggling members of Adagio’s gang. But they had been dealt with

The sudden, terrified realization that they know she is there, somewhere in the billowing smoke. The sound of them drawing their guns, her panic as she empties her own into the area, terrified beyond thought, until after a time her hearing returns, and she can hear someone screaming and screaming and she realizes that it’s her...

easily enough. Then, it was simply a matter of taking the first hemispherical gem from Adagio’s unworthy corpse. For, whatever world she had come from, she was obviously unready to wield the true potential of magic.

Trixie walks past the other corpses as quickly as she can without really looking at them. But Adagio is on her side, facing away. To reach the amulet, Trixie pulls gingerly at her shoulder. The dead body rolls and Adagio’s head lolls, dead eyes staring into Trixie’s own. Trixie gasps, covers her own mouth with both hands, and runs.

Minutes later, Trixie’s stomach is beginning to cramp as she continues to vomit into the nearby corner again and again, dry heaves giving way to bitter, yellow bile. Perhaps twenty feet away, Adagio’s bullet-riddled corpse is still staring at her.

With the first segment of the gem in her possession, gathering the other two had been much easier. Two hemispheres and a disc, unjustly and ignorantly severed and divided between three unjust and ignorant people. But when brought together again, they had rejoined seamlessly at her touch.

At the touch of Trixie.

Trixie, the Great and Powerful.

The Siren’s dull, staring eyes would return in her nightmares for weeks afterwards. But only for a few weeks; her dreams being slowly, mercifully replaced one by one by the welcome, all-consuming green glow of her newfound magic.

Over a third of the city was already under Trixie’s thrall, and in a fashion that was both stable and easy to maintain. A true magician needed nothing so crass as the mind control of an emotivore.

Simple compulsion. Influence.

And above all, personal power.

Power that would only increase once she had added the Rainbooms’ magic to her own.

I just want magic, she thinks as she joins the first two pieces together. Real magic. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be able to do more, to know more, to be more.

I’m not like the Sirens, she thinks as she joins the third piece, re-uniting the sphere once more. I’m Trixie! And Trixie will always use her power to help people, help her friends, heal the wounds the Sirens have inflicted on the world.

I can be the Great and Powerful Trixie; the way Trixie always should have been.

And Trixie can finally get the recognition she deserves.

She would allow herself the distraction of taking the Rainbooms’ magic, Trixie decided. She could afford the luxury, and the potential gain would make it more than worth the delay. For with their added power, the other gangs would fall that much more quickly. It was inevitable; Trixie was too great, too powerful, and above all too wise to fail.

Once the other gangs had fallen to Trixie, what little political or economic power in Canterlot City that was still legitimate would be Trixie’s to claim. After that, expanding her reach throughout the state would be child’s play. Then the USE. Ultimately, every nation on Gaia would bow to her, in fear and adoration of their newfound queen and deity.

And then, there would only be Trixie.

And none would be so great and powerful as she.

Contemplating the future, dreaming of her impending godhood, Trixie’s eyes pulsed green in time with the spherical jewel she wore at her throat, thrumming and purring its encouragement to her as she schemed.

Author's Note

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Ending Credits: The Man Who Sold the World, by David Bowie.

Intermission 4. Wallflower Blush: Hey You.

When she first awakened, she didn’t move. Instead, she snuggled in closer, pretending that she was still part of their embrace.

But eventually, she sighed and let them go. Moved gently out from the covers, tucked them in again around the lovers she’d been sleeping with for the past few weeks.

Miranda sighed a little in her sleep, a smile momentarily glowing across her face. Her husband, Ray, unconsciously pulled her in a little closer.

And Wallflower’s heart ached.

Reluctantly, she walked to the apartment’s balcony, still nude, and stepped out into the moonlight and the cooling breeze. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to relax into the moment, the gentle wind encompassing her, drying what little sweat remained.

No one would see, of course. But that hardly mattered. She knew she wouldn’t be coming back.

Ray and Miranda had been making jokes about how maybe they should have a third key made for her over dinner, and that was as clear a hint as she could ask for that she’d worn out her welcome. Which sucked, she really liked them. And, sometimes, it had seemed like they’d really liked her.

But in the end, it was always the same. That was just how it was for her. How it always had been, even in school. Alone. Standing on the outside, looking in.

At least now they would remember her.

Sighing a little, Wallflower Blush padded to the bathroom and started the shower. She nicked a little of Miranda’s body wash, and her shampoo. She knew they wouldn’t mind. Likewise, one of the smaller towels when she was done.

Then, silently, Wallflower started gathering her scattered clothing in the darkness, smiling a little as she did. Tonight had really been something. Maybe on some level, they’d all known it was goodbye, and had wanted to go out with a bang.

She grinned a little as she fastened her bra, pulled her shirt over. Well, they’d certainly done that. She wouldn’t be surprised if the neighbors lodged noise complaints.

Her stomach growled as she was putting on her pants, and she froze. But they barely stirred. Wallflower glanced at the kitchen, then shook her head and grabbed her shoes and socks. Better not push her luck. Nobody in this equation needed to deal with a nocturnal Walk of Shame.

She sat and pulled on her footwear, then stood again with a sigh. She paused at the bedroom door again, gazing longingly at the couple. They’d shifted into spooning, and the splash of silver moonlight framed them so perfectly it hurt. They were both so beautiful.

I wish I was one of you, Wallflower thought sadly. Either one of you.

Then, she moved silently out of their bedroom, their apartment, and finally their lives, so they could get back to enjoying themselves without her.

Author's Note

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Ending Credits: Hey You, by Pink Floyd.

Intermission 5. Canterlot Police Department: Fly Like an Eagle.

White Hat woke with a start, looking around herself anxiously.

She had been dreaming of blue skies and wide, green expanses. A common dream in recent years, and the kind that made her wake up with a sigh, her heart aching as she wiped her eyes dry.

But this time, the dream had been strangely different at the end.

The wind brushing comfortingly against her hair. The ever-so-slight scent of freshly turned earth. A voice breaking gently, nervously through the clouds like a reluctant stranger.

It’s okay. I’m a prisoner, too.

Sitting up, White Hat looked around her police-issued room. Shelves of electronics, a few books, a mini fridge and the world’s tiniest electric stove. A microwave. Her computers, of course, and multiple monitors in front of her usual chair, its back towards the door.

Man, she thought, I must have been more tired than I thought.

She yawned, ran a hand through her crimson hair. Reached over to her side table, grabbed her glasses, put them on. Glanced at the door – closed and locked, as usual – and then at the clock hanging on the concrete wall.

She shrugged, stood, stretched. Yawned again, stretched again. She’d have to get up in twenty minutes anyway. Might as well get started on the day’s labors.

White Hat grabbed a ramen cup, filled it with water. Microwaved it for a couple of minutes, added one egg and spice packet, stirred. Contemplated the playlists on her phone for a moment, feeling the need for some old school. Selected NWA, hit shuffle and loop. Grabbed a soda from the fridge.

Then, into the chair and back to the salt mines, alternating between typing and munching as she worked.

For the last week, White Hat had been expanding her reach outward from the police department. Last night she’d thought she’d found some Sparkleprints (as she had come to think of them) in the airport’s security records. And it had looked pretty good at the time, but finally she’d been having trouble keeping her eyes focused and had to crash.

Now, feeling much more rested, she started again.

There was certainly some indication of computer-based interference, during the time period when the Rainbooms had been lying low. Which meant that someone important to them had been there that night.

Flying out? Flying in? Meeting someone?

She grinned.

Let’s find out.

Just tracking down the ticket itself took about an hour. White Hat was impressed; the gangster had covered her tracks well. But it remained: someone from in-town had gone there with a ticket for Flight 305.

The airport’s facial recognition, predictably, had failed to identify whoever it was. Which wasn’t surprising; Armor had told her about Sparkle’s role in that technology’s development. So, it was to be expected that using security’s identification records would be useless. But when White Hat used that failure itself as a tool of detection...

People traveling through that terminal in the span of a few hours? Hundreds, easily.

People that the system had failed to scan, here and there? A few dozen.

People that the system had failed to scan literally every single time they were on any camera on or around airport property?

Only one.

And even as craptastic as the airport’s security records were, even as low res as the existing footage of the ticket holder was... just how many yellow-skinned young women were hanging out with the Rainbooms?

Again, only one.

White Hat sipped her soda and started typing frantically.

“Oh, you are sly,” she smiled as she worked, “but so am I...”

The flight from the terminal in question had gone to Manehattan. Which made sense; from Manehattan, you could go literally anywhere. Manehattan International didn’t have any similar failures in their own facial recognition drones, so it looked like Apple Bloom had just stayed on board, taking the plane’s next flight all the way across the ocean to...

...Faraway.

Kenneth International Airport, in Faraway. Smack in the middle of southern Alkebulan.

White Hat frowned.

Okay, she thought, but why?

White Hat called up Apple Bloom’s file again. She read about her family, the farm. She read about her breaking out of prison with Twilight Sparkle. She read the entry about how Apple Bloom had helped break out Rainbow Dash. About the disguise she’d used, rhyming speech and striped body paint. And then, White Hat called up Apple Bloom’s high school records.

There it was. Freshman year, she’d been enrolled in a chemistry internship with a striped woman named Zecora.

And Zecora came from Faraway.

A few more keystrokes, and White Hat had the older woman’s photo, her current address – back in Faraway, coincidentally – and her personal history.

But again, the question remained: Why?

The next several hours were spent reconstructing the video footage from Canterlot International. The result was choppy and still low rez, but far better than anyone else could have done.

White Hat watched Apple Bloom move through the airport. Watched her pass through security and into the terminal. Watched her sit alone until it was time to board. Head down. Unmoving.

Geez, the kid looks devastated, White Hat thought. No way this is what she wanted.

Then, the blurry figure took something purple out of her purse, obviously the bow she’d been wearing in the prison footage. The figure seemed to consider it for a time, then dropped it in the trash.

White Hat stopped the playback. Leaned back, stunned.

Holy crap, she thought. They told her to leave.

One of their biggest assets, and they sent her away. Hurt her feelings in the process, too. Pretty bad, by the looks of it.

But she’s still going.

She’s leaving the Life, White Hat realized, still staring. Starting a new life somewhere else. At the other Rainbooms’ insistence.

White Hat re-opened the files she had on the teenager, skimming and cross-referencing them, frowning at what she found.

Applejack. Rarity. Sweetie Belle. Sweet Apple Acres, and the entire Apple clan.

Family and lifelong friends, all murdered.

White Hat sighed and leaned back, staring at the ceiling, thinking.

The rural neighborhood around Sweet Apple Acres, being on the edge of the city, would have been the closest thing near Canterlot to living in a small town. White Hat thought back to her own childhood in Kensington, a small Midwest town with one high school and no college. The bonds she’d shared with the folks she’d grown up with.

Her chair creaked as she settled forward again, looking at the files on her various screens.

So, yeah, she thought, the other Rainbooms told her to leave.

Doesn’t take a genius to figure out why.

When she’d been caught, White Hat had been maybe Apple Bloom’s age. Full of dreams about how she’d use her skills to be a modern-day Robin Hood. Punish the corporate CEOs who were running the world into the ground. Give money to the poor. All that nonsense.

But then, she’d gotten in too deep, let herself get blackmailed into writing code to access bank accounts and drain them dry. And afterwards, she’d been left to take the fall.

I was young, she thought to herself bitterly. Young and stupid.

For a while, she’d thought she’d gotten away with it. She’d refocused on her grades, brought them back up to where they’d been before everything had gone south. Made her mom proud, had her little sister looking up to her again.

But then the FIB had showed up at her mom’s door, and she’d known it was over.

The feds had arrested her, terrified her, threatened her and her family, and finally made her an offer: she could go to prison, or she could work for them, taking down people like the ones who had blackmailed her and set her up.

She’d been a bureau girl ever since. A special consultant, always under the careful supervision of the FIB. A monitor always on her ankle, making sure she didn’t stray.

Usually, it was set to a two-mile limit. Sometimes only one. Now, it was set to the confines of the police station. Almost certainly part of the deal the Commish had made with the feds. She was under his supervision instead of theirs, and he was certainly a friendlier prison warden than they were. But in exchange, she couldn’t even leave the building.

A kinder and gentler prison, sure. But a much smaller one. And she, as always, remained a prisoner. And freedom, while a frequent and beautiful dream, remained always a dream. A memory. And always out of reach.

But now, those days were over. She’d been handed this ridiculous, impossible case, and she’d broken it, single-handed. And not just any case, either.

She’d made the break in the biggest gangster case. In over. One. Hundred. Years.

I can lead them right to Apple Bloom, she thought. Hand her to them, gift-wrapped in a bright purple bow.

Even if the girl was in another country – which she obviously was – there were ways to capture and extradite. And from there, all they had to do was get her to talk. Even if she didn’t know where Twilight Sparkle was, she would know someone who did.

A strange kind of thrill flooded through White Hat, her face and hands growing cold.

There was no way the bureau could justify holding her anymore, she realized. Not with almost two of her five years already served. This was the kind of thing her lawyer had talked about when she’d first taken the deal. A heroic act, proof that she was a good citizen now and grounds for a commuted sentence. Between this and her non-stop good behavior...

White Hat blinked back tears.

She’d be able to see her mom again. Give her a reason to be proud of her again. Visit her dad’s grave without needing permission. Without an ankle bracelet. Without a fed squinting at her through their sunglasses the whole time. Without her little sister looking away from her in shame.

She could have a home again. A family again. Hell, she could have friends again.

What would that be worth?

With what she’d put together, they’d catch up to Apple Bloom, easy, plus the Farawayan she was with. But that was fine. She wasn’t a big fish, after all. It was Twilight Sparkle they wanted.

She could just cut a deal.

Just... just like I did.

For a while, White Hat didn’t move. She just sat, staring at the multiple screens before her.

Then, feeling a little lightheaded, White Hat very gently, very deliberately, took hold of the mouse.

She took in a fortifying breath. Let it go.

Moved the cursor to the folder containing her conclusions.

Right click. Scroll down.

Delete.

There was a quick knock at the door, and Armor was suddenly in the room.

“Some of the guys are working late,” he said, “and they’re ordering pizza. Do you want anything?”

White Hat was a little surprised by her own calm. No sense closing the files that were still visible; that would just look suspicious. And anyway, they were just walls of text.

So instead, she just frowned over her shoulder at him, asking, “Is it that late already?”

The commissioner nodded. “It’s close to ten. Let me guess: you found a lead and spent all day on it, running on nothing but that cup of ramen on your desk.”

In her own defense, White Hat held up her empty soda can.

Armor rolled his eyes.

“You’re impossible,” he said. “Can you kill the music for a second?”

White Hat picked up her phone and hit pause, freezing the live version of Fuck tha Police in mid-phrase.

“Thank you.”

“Sure.”

“So. Pizza,” he pressed. “Yay or nay?”

White Hat considered the matter.

“I think nay,” she said at last. “I’m not exactly one of the guys here. Best if I keep to myself. Besides, I’ve got plenty of provisions.”

“Well, just make sure to eat something,” he nodded. “Techie doth not live by ramen alone.”

She shrugged. “Okay, fine.”

Armor gave another slight nod, leaning against the wall next to him. “Meanwhile, find anything yet?”

White Hat shook her head. “Just a ping at the University. I couldn’t get a valid trace, but I think I’m figuring out how to compensate for the way she’s bypassing security systems. Once that’s done, tracking her should be that much faster.”

“That’s great. Let me know.” The commissioner paused, then asked, “What do you mean a ‘valid trace’? Are there invalid traces, somehow?”

White Hat smiled, swiveling her chair to face him completely. “Well, I was technically able to trace her activity on campus to an address.”

Commissioner Armor cocked an eyebrow. “And that address is?”

“Ten-sixty West Addison Street, Chicagcolt.”

Armor frowned for a moment, then winced and sighed, looking upwards for strength.

“Of course she did,” he said.

“Also, I’m not sure if it was an automatic response to the trace or not, but I was sent a digital Shazam Gas coupon. It seems genuine, guaranteeing me a full tank of gas, a half-sized pack of cigarettes, sunglasses...”

“Yes, okay, fine,” Armor grumped, waving the details away. “Just let me know when you actually have something, will you?”

White Hat nodded, turning back to her computer. “You know I will.”

“Thank you. Oh, and by the way, you left the door open.”

“I did?” White Hat frowned. She could have sworn she’d closed and locked the door as usual. Granted, the commissioner had a key, but she didn’t like the idea of his subordinates having easy access to where she slept.

Armor gave her one of his rare smiles. “Well, only in that it wasn’t latched properly. I wouldn’t worry about it. Just remember to get some rest now and then, you look exhausted. And eat something, will you?”

She smiled back. “Back atcha, boss.”

Once the door was closed, she rose and locked it. Then she sat again, pulling up the master file on everything she’d done with the airport security footage. Her mouse moved slowly at first, then faster and faster, deleting file after file of reconstructed images, trace evidence, flight plans.

Finally, she came to the blurry, heartbroken face of the wanted criminal known as Apple Bloom. White Hat contemplated it a moment longer, and then deleted it along with the rest.

Good luck, kid.

With a few more clicks, White Hat started the scrubbing process, eliminating any traces of the deleted files from her drive. Then, she leaned back again, eyes closed, imagining again and again the Midwestern sky. She imagined seeing it by herself, with a friend, even with a lover. But always she imagined herself as she had so many times before, untethered and unmonitored, free to come and go as she pleased beneath a limitless sky.

Author's Note

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Ending Credits: Fly like an Eagle, by The Steve Miller Band.

Episode 18. Children of Trixie: Run Like Hell.

At a glance, it was a surprisingly well-kept, low-rent complex. The grass was short, none of the paint was peeling, and there wasn’t even any graffiti.

But most of the parked cars were green, with some variant of five-sided stars painted on them. And sentries walked the grounds on regular patrols, dressed in varying shades of green, armed with assault rifles and machetes.

Between the complex and Mary Shelley Boulevard, there was a miniature playground. There weren’t any children there, of course; even the Children of Trixie weren’t that reckless. Instead, between it and the street, two green-clad men were tossing a frisbee, machine pistols obvious in the holsters on their hips.

But while casing the place, Twilight and Rainbow Dash had both seen people coming in and out of a few doors who hadn’t been wearing gang colors. And a few times, a small child had met their parents excitedly at the door.

Rainbow Dash frowned from where she crouched, hidden by some bushes across the street.

“Shit,” she said. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.”

“Agreed,” came Twilight’s reply. “I think the full frontal is out.”

Grinning, Rainbow Dash dropped her head, eyes closed. “Yeah, dude, that’s not what that means.”

Peering over the area from her perch on one of the apartment building’s rooftops, Twilight shrugged.

“Well, whatever. The point is that a dramatic frontal assault would be ill-advised. Even if we could be certain of the Children’s desire to keep their families safe, we don’t know about their competence. There’s bound to be crossfire.”

“Yeah,” Rainbow agreed. “And if they’ve got kids that probably means partners, relatives, you name it.”

“Which we should have expected, and didn’t,” Twilight sighed.

“Yeah, well, the Dazzlings didn’t house whole fucking families.”

“Still.”

After a brief pause, Rainbow asked, “Wanna do this at night?”

“Too risky. More people in the compound, plus any shooters may be firing blind.”

Rainbow Dash frowned. “I thought we were doing this in broad daylight to make a statement.”

“We were. The situation has changed.”

There were several minutes of silence while both women considered the matter.

“Twilight, I hate to say it, but I think we’re back to stealth,” Rainbow sighed.

“That may be our only option. Can you get to his apartment without being seen?”

“Sure. But what about you? Do I carry you in, or…?”

Twilight considered the idea, then sighed.

“No, too many variables,” She said reluctantly. “I’ll be lookout, and long-distance backup if needs be. We have good cloud coverage; I doubt anyone will notice me. I’ll need the rifle, though. Just in case.”

Moving the surrounding foliage as little as possible, Rainbow Dash unlimbered the long stunner and held it vertically beside her.

“Okay, ready,” she said.

There was a moment’s pause, and then the weapon was surrounded in a violet glow, and in an eyeblink it was jerked up into the sky.

“Okay, let me know when you’re ready for the pistol,” Twilight said.

“Hang on a sec, still counting my fingers.”

“Sorry.”

“Joke, Twilight. But yeah, as soon as it looks clear to you, drop it down.”

It took another few minutes until Twilight judged that no one would see. Then the small stunner thrust its way downward into the shrubbery in a streak of purple light, hovering just next to Rainbow Dash.

Across the street, one of the frisbee players turned towards her direction, frowning.

“Okay, I got it!” Rainbow whispered, grabbing the thing. “Leggo!”

Immediately, the glow vanished.

For several seconds, Rainbow Dash barely dared to breathe.

Then, the other player said something to the one who was staring. The second guy said something back. Then, both of them were staring.

“Um, Twilight?”

“Be ready to run,” came the reply.

But then the second guy said something else, and both of them laughed. A few seconds later, their game had started up again, with occasional pauses to do something with their phones.

“I don’t like this,” Rainbow Dash grumbled.

“Neither do I,” Twilight said. “But this may be our only chance to reach him. If Trixie realizes that we were trying to get to Gabby earlier, she may move him, increase security around him, or even just have him killed, depending on just how crazy she’s become.”

Rainbow Dash winced. “And I keep wanting to say, ‘Hey, what are you talking about, this is Trixie,’ but…”

She could hear the regret in Twilight’s voice. “Yes. So do I.”

“You know, you never did tell me what you think got to her.”

“That’s because I’m not certain,” Twilight replied. “If it’s something else, acting on assumptions could lead to mistakes later.”

“Gotcha.”

“Also,” Twilight added quietly, “I’m really hoping I’m wrong.”

Rainbow Dash said nothing. But inwardly, she had to think, yeah, how often does that happen?

The silence lasted several moments. Finally, Twilight said, “Okay, I’m in position.”

Rainbow Dash nodded. “Okay, on my mark. Three, two…”

Suddenly, there was a squealing of tires as Gabby’s van screeched out of the parking lot, spun, slid sideways onto the street, and then righted itself before peeling out towards the highway at high speed.

“…oh now what the FUCK?!?” Rainbow finished, shouting at the sky.

A variety of Children of Trixie members were exiting various doors, now, most of them jeering, pointing and cursing at the swiftly vanishing van. A few of them fired randomly into the air, shouting and laughing.

“Follow him,” Twilight said. “Keep your distance, avoid being seen if you can.”

By the time she’d finished speaking, the other woman had already vanished in a streak of rainbow-colored light.

“God damned car chases,” Rainbow Dash grumbled to herself.

Following in-town had been the hardest, with so many other cars and cross-streets, plus fucking Gabby driving like he was playing a goddamn video game. She’d ended up climbing up onto the rooftops at high speed, and then bounding across them, trying to keep out of Gabby’s rear view and his peripheral, all while keeping the blue van in view.

“God damned car chases,” she muttered to herself again. “At least the Crow got a cool soundtrack.”

Fortunately, once the city limits were behind them, things had gotten simpler.

With more wide-open spaces available, Rainbow veered far to the right. She kept the van in sight, always staying far enough behind that she wouldn’t be seen but near enough that she could close if she needed. Navigating the rough terrain maybe a hundred feet to the side of the highway while keeping an eye on the idiot she was chasing.

Sure, she could outrun pretty much anything. But the faster she made herself able to go, the slower time seemed to flow around her. Which meant she could make this quick, but exhaust herself by sprinting full out for who knows how long… or, she could keep up at a comfortable jog, treat the chase like the marathon run it was, and stay bored out of her skull for probably hours while idiot-ass Gabby Driver turtled his way across state lines.

Fuck my life, she thought for the thousandth time. In her earpiece, the low and grainy sound of Twilight’s voice continued to vibrate, probably a syllable or two of encouragement that Rainbow didn’t need.

She reached up and switched the damned things off. This was enough of a grind without spending the next several minutes listening to Twilight’s voice turned into a bad Isaac Hayes reverb.

Then, the van started to veer.

Rainbow frowned. What the hell?

Technically, Gabby had been driving recklessly the whole time. But he was also a crack driver, and the van had always been solidly in control. There had been a few times that the blue woman had considered speeding up and helping someone avoid a crash, or even grab them out of their cars, but that hadn’t been necessary thus far.

But this… this seemed different.

The van continued its agonizingly slow drift to the left, relatively sudden and unnecessary, mercifully without any other vehicles nearby.

The chassis gradually rocked side to side on its wheels, showing what in normal time would be a brief shudder as the van started its jerk back to the right.

Rainbow continued to watch carefully.

Yeah, Gabby was definitely out of control.

Rainbow Dash slowed time further, giving herself time to think. She was an okay driver, but if she jumped into the driver’s seat and tried to take over, she’d be as likely to wreck the van as to save it.

On the other hand, if she did nothing, Gabby could die. And maybe not alone.

Fuckity-fuckity-fuck.

Gritting her teeth, Rainbow Dash ran faster. She advanced on the van rapidly, hoping she’d be able to react correctly to whatever was happening when the time came.

Author's Note

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Ending credits: Run Like Hell, by Pink Floyd.

Episode 19. Children of Trixie: In the Air Tonight.

There had been a time, early in her ascension to power, when the Great and Powerful Trixie had engaged in all manner of physical pleasures. After all, why bother having resources if you’re not going to be a sensate now and then?

Such magnificent days, and such luxurious nights. The finest foods, the finest liquors, and of course the endless host of deliciously beautiful lovers at her beck and call...

But that had been at the beginning. And while she certainly did not reprove her past self for such extravagance, Trixie had long outgrown such petty concerns.

Now, the Alicorn Amulet was all she required.

She smiled to herself a secret smile, caressing her treasure. The setting was a cloak clasp, fashioned with her own hands from silver, years ago. It’d had a place for a gem in the middle, and at the time she’d had vague thoughts of using a crystal ball as its centerpiece. Of course, once jewelry class was done, she’d left it in a dresser drawer, forgotten.

But in retrospect, it was obvious that, on some level, she had known. That all her life, she’d always known. For once she’d joined the segments of the jewel together, the clasp had been a perfect fit. The mystical gem had been truly completed by the Great and Powerful Trixie, and the Alicorn Amulet had been born at last.

She had been waiting for the amulet all her life. And it, in turn, had been waiting for her.

The goddess smiled, levitating herself across the room in an exquisite green glow. Let Wallflower Blush find whatever solace she could in whatever arms would have her. Let the Children of Trixie glut themselves on food, or drink, or on whatever substances helped them feel, or remember, or forget.

For she was Trixie, the Great and Powerful. Unbeatable. Eternal. An enigma that no one could ever hope to truly know or understand. And she required nothing but the green, glowing gem that sang to her in her dreams.

Her power carried her across her sanctum, emaciated bare feet never touching the ground, billowing cloak fanning out behind her. There her altar waited; a small shrine of self-worship, devoted to her own ever-growing power.

The five candles along the altar’s edge flared to life at her approach with brilliant emerald flame. With but a gesture, a bowl of engraved silver floated before her. Meanwhile, a drawer opened, a single lock of hair gliding along the currents of her will to hover over the bowl.

A decanter floated by, tilting downward, its contents emptying in an artistic swirl. The water circled above the bowl once, twice, thrice, then poured itself into it.

The smell of brine reached her nostrils, and the Great and Powerful Trixie allowed herself a superior smile. Gabby had always said he’d liked the ocean.

Gabby Driver hit his signal as he screeched across three lanes, taking the I-435 South exit. If the Loop was a letter Q, with the circle containing most of the city, then this exit was the tail. It led further inland, away from Canterlot and the coast, away from the madness and death of Trixie and the fucking crazy-ass cult that surrounded her.

Shoulda done this months ago, he thought. Hell, shoulda done this soon as I saw the crazy bitch. Shoulda seen the cult, seen the crazy, cut and fucking run.

But the money had talked, his brain had shut off, and he’d said yes.

Stupid, he seethed at himself silently, weaving through traffic, balancing the brake and gas as he followed the curve, following the highway east.

Stupid, greedy, fucking asshole!

The money. The broads. The feeling of power. Trixie had put him in charge of more and more of her operations, and man, it had been just fucking awesome, every step of the way.

And then, the knock on his door. Wallflower. Acting all sad and shit, like she was sorry about it.

Bullshit. As soon as he’d seen her there, he’d known. He knew she’d always hated him. Her and all the rest. She might even have been the one to turn Trixie against him.

Probably was, he thought with gritted teeth. Couldn’t wait. Couldn’t fucking wait! Probably started putting a target on my back when I first come onto her, months ago. Fucking bitch. Turned me down, humiliated me, then probably laughed her green ass off when the time came, wherever she’d vanished to.

But that didn’t matter. He’d gone over the van himself, regularly, ever since he’d first been jumped in. So he knew it was clean: no transmitters, no bombs, nothing. That just left assassins, and even fanatics had their limits.

So, whatever Trixie had in mind for him, no way was it following him all the way to Manehattan.

All he had to do was get there, where she couldn’t reach. Just fucking get there!

His rear-view mirror showed red and blue lights in the distance. Highway patrol? he thought. No, that’s Canterlot. Hot pursuit out of town, ready to send in the choppers if things get too hairy. But that’s no problem.

He’d taken valuable minutes grabbing a case, filling it with money and merchandise. He’d felt stupid at the time. But now, of course, that meant he had bribe money. Even if the cops did bother to keep chasing and pull him over, a briefcase of hundred-dollar bills should make everything okay.

Unless they were in on it, of course.

After all, the whole time he’d been packing, even when he’d run out to the van, the other Children had been just grinning. Gloating. Like they knew something he didn’t.

Yeah, you betrayed the goddess! One of them had called after him, laughing as he’d run. So that’s your ass, I guess!

And now…

Fucking green bitch, he thought furiously as he cut off a sedan and floored the gas again. You sold me out, didn’t you, you fucking cunt?!?

Women were trouble, of course. Any fool knew that. And while the warm colors were bad enough, cold colors were the fucking worst. Green, purple…

And most of all, blue.

The goddess held her gaunt hand above the hovering lock of hair, palm up.

She turned her hand, palm down.

The lock fell into the bowl and dissolved away.

Then, the water itself shrank and was gone, as if drunk by some invisible demon’s proboscis.

“Good-bye, Mister Driver.”

Then the candles extinguished, leaving the room drenched in shadows, writhing as always in the green glow of her power.

The next curve was a sharp one, and Gabby did a quick heel-toe, expertly rounding it with room to spare. He was about to hit the accelerator again when the taste came up. Briney, like sea water.

He had just enough time to frown, automatically try to figure out what he might have eaten or drank to bring that taste back up. Then, his mouth filled with water, his lungs seized. He coughed, choked, saltwater spraying the dashboard.

Gabby hit the brakes, clutching at his chest. Seconds later the van careened off another turn. It bounced down the long incline below the interstate, turning, rolling, and finally settling on its side at the bottom, the white airbag deploying during the process with a firecracker sound he never heard.

Rainbow Dash reached him as the van started going over the embankment. Matching the vehicle’s speed, she carefully pulled the door open, cut his seatbelt and pulled him out as he struggled and thrashed in slow motion, water spraying everywhere.

Wait, water?

She followed the van down, avoiding sudden turns, slowing her momentum carefully. Sunset had let her read her comic book collection back in high school, and the death of Gwen Stacy had always stayed with her.

To the untrained eye, she came to a fast stop. But in actuality her speed was in absolute control. She followed the van, circled around it once, then put her prisoner on the ground. She let time flow close to normal then, maybe half speed just in case he pulled a gun or something…

…then, she froze.

For a valuable fraction of a second, Rainbow Dash could only stare in horror, the slow-motion effect making the scene even more awful: Gabby, sluggishly writhing and spasming before her, his limbs windmilling wildly as salt water sprayed from his mouth and nose while he choked and struggled to breathe, eyes wide and frantic.

Quickly, Rainbow Dash grabbed the drug dealer, flipped him over, compressed his lungs from behind. Water spewed everywhere.

She flipped him onto his back. Started CPR. More water, salt water, somehow spraying from his mouth like he’d just been in the ocean, instead of driving at high speed into the land-locked states.

As fast as she dared, Rainbow Dash rolled him over onto his side and lay behind him. Compressed his lungs. Waited for him to inhale. Compressed again.

More water. An impossible amount. Cups. Liters. More.

Urgently, she rolled him onto his back as he fought and bucked. Tried to give him mouth to mouth. But the air couldn’t go in. His lungs were, impossibly, still full.

Gabby continued to spasm as she rolled him onto his side again. He clawed at her desperately, his eyes pleading and filled with terror, saltwater spraying everywhere. And then, he shuddered. His eyes grew dim, and he went still, his hands falling to the ground.

And even then, while Rainbow Dash knelt helplessly beside his corpse, eyes screwed shut, water continued to flood impossibly out from his mouth and nose. It flowed quickly out across his face and hair, soaking into the ground beneath him, filling the area with the smell of the sea.

Twilight’s eyes grew wide as the sounds of choking, flailing, and struggle came in through her earpieces. She glanced out towards the highway, calculating the exact direction she would need to take to get to her friend’s position along the highway’s route.

“Rainbow Dash? What’s going on? Do you need backup?”

More choking. Then, the sounds of struggle stopped.

“Oh my god, I’m on my way…!” Twilight gasped, already surrounding herself with her magic.

A few seconds later, Rainbow Dash’s voice came over their connection.

“He’s dead.”

Twilight froze in the sky, bewildered. “What?”

“Gabby’s dead.”

“What? What happened?”

“I dunno! He just... he just fucking drowned!”

Looking around herself for helicopters, Twilight sought cover in the clouds. “He... wait, he what...?”

“God dammit, Twilight, he fucking drowned!” Rainbow Dash cried, her voice cracking. “I mean, one minute he’s driving, the next he’s choking, and he’s coughing up fucking salt water! His van just does a fucking Dukes of Hazzard right off the turn, and I get him out, and he... he...!”

“Rainbow Dash, are you okay?”

“Do I sound like I’m fucking okay?!?”

Twilight closed her eyes. “No. I’m sorry.”

Rainbow Dash swallowed, coughed.

“I’m sorry, too,” she managed. “God, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. It’s just, I mean, we’ve both seen some shit, but this, I mean he was still fighting, and I tried to empty his lungs, but the water, it just kept coming, and it’s still coming, and it just keeps fucking coming...!”

“Rainbow Dash...”

“What the fuck are we dealing with, Twilight?” Rainbow Dash screamed. “You’re the big brain here, what the fuck is going on? I mean, that’s like one of the worst ways to go, and Trixie what, gave him warning? Told him to run? What, she wanted him to go out tortured and scared? I mean, he was fighting, clawing at me, and, and, what the fuck, man? What the fuck?!?”

Her voice failed her. Twilight waited, silent.

“I couldn’t save him, Twilight,” Rainbow choked out at last. “I tried. I swear to God, I tried... I...!”

“I know you did,” came Twilight’s gentle reply. “But there’s nothing you could have done.”

“But—”

“Rainbow, I know you. If you could have saved him, he’d be alive right now. Now, listen to me. Are you there?”

After a pause, Twilight repeated, “Rainbow Dash, are you there.”

The reply was barely audible. “Yeah.”

“Then listen to me. There’s nothing you could have done. Do you hear me? This is not your fault! There’s nothing you or anyone else could have done to save him!”

Rainbow Dash sighed, still crouching by the staring, brine-soaked corpse.

Twilight’s voice broke in again, insistent. “Rainbow, are you listening to me?”

“Yeah,” Rainbow croaked. “Yeah, I’m listening.”

“Okay. Then I need you to go. The police are on their way. Get out of there before they show.”

Silence.

Frowning, Twilight asked, “Rainbow?”

More silence.

“Rainbow Dash?”

“Yeah, I’m here,” came the reply. “I can do this. I just needed some time is all. I’m good.”

“Rainbow, you don’t—”

“Gabby had his cell phone on him,” Rainbow Dash interrupted, just a little too loud. “It might have something we can use. And I emptied the glove box, just in case there was something there.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Yes, I fucking do, Twilight,” Rainbow Dash said through gritted teeth. “Nobody needs to die like that. We’re stopping this. Period.”

“Okay,” Twilight said quietly. “Okay. I hear you.”

Lowering herself below the clouds again, Twilight glanced back at the smirking gangsters gathered in the parking lot, all still joking and laughing. Then, she looked out towards Rainbow Dash’s position.

Meanwhile, Rainbow Dash stood, listening to the sirens’ distant approach. She gave one last, long look at the body. It lay on its side, face still contorted with horror. Sea water still flowed freely from its mouth and its nose, and now even wept out from its eyes.

Reaching up, she momentarily clicked off her earpiece’s microphone.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t know how you got here, or why. But I’m sorry.”

Far above, Twilight Sparkle watched Canterlot spread out below her like a great carpet. In the distance, she could see the flashing lights of the police, rapidly approaching Rainbow’s location.

“Hey,” she said.

Rainbow clicked the mic back on. “Yeah?”

“They’re about to crest that rise. Do you need more time? I might be able to distract them.”

Rainbow Dash took in a long breath, then released it.

“No,” she said. “No, I’m done.”

“Okay. Then let’s go home.”

Rainbow Dash took one last look at the body of the man who, not long ago, had fired at her with a machine gun on a fucking college campus. Shook her head.

Then she was gone in a streak of multicolored light, leaving what was left of Gabby Driver to the care of Canterlot’s Finest.

Author's Note

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Closing Credits: In the Air Tonight, by Phil Collins.

Intermission 6. Rainbooms: Silent Lucidity

The last few days had absolutely sucked. Maybe it had been a week, Rainbow Dash wasn’t sure.

But however long it had been, she’d pretty much just stayed in bed, either sleeping or just staring at the ceiling. She hadn’t eaten, and she’d only drank at Twilight’s insistence.

There just… there hadn’t been any reason to do anything, really.

Twilight had been sleeping with her, and that had helped. Not as much as when everybody’d first escaped, though. Maybe more warm bodies diffused things more, or something. She’d ask Twilight later.

But the point was, she was finally feeling a little more like herself. And hungry, which was also a good sign.

She propped herself up on her elbows, thinking more clearly than she had for a while. She glanced over at Twilight, and, slowly, gently, moved the purple girl’s arm off of her. Then, carefully, she scootched out of bed and stood. Stretched.

The nightmares were still gonna be there, of course. But she could deal with them alone now. She wasn’t jackknifing awake in the middle of the night anymore, coughing on bile and shaking from the memories. But when she had been, Twilight had been there like a mom or a big sister. Calming her down, cleaning her up, and helping her get back to sleep.

Not really a shock, as Rainbow Dash thought about it. They’d both seen someone drown up close and personal. Though, she was still pretty sure Twilight’s experience had been a lot worse. Rainbow hadn’t even known Gabby, after all.

She wondered for a moment if her friend would feel bad if she woke her up to move her out of her bed, and decided no. They knew each other too well for that to hurt any feelings, especially if Rainbow was polite about it.

Rainbow’s stomach growled, and she chuckled a little. Yeah, there would be time for sleeping arrangements later.

Right now, though: snacks.

Keeping most of the lights off, Rainbow Dash made her way to the fridge. And as she glanced back at Twilight, she had to smile. Even without the special bond the Rainbooms all shared, analytical Twilight would never have made the last few days weird. It wouldn’t have even occurred to her to read some kind of sex thing into it. She’d have just helped out a friend, and then left it at that, never bringing the subject up again.

Which, in Rainbow’s mind, made Twilight pretty damned special.

A quick scan in the freezer confirmed her suspicion that they were out of ice cream.

Probably Twilight hadn’t wanted to go shopping while I was still freaking out, she sighed to herself. Can’t blame her there, I was pretty messed up.

Then, opening the refrigerator door, Rainbow Dash frowned. Yeah, you could definitely tell they were overdue for a shopping trip. They were out of eggs, out of soda… hell, they were even out of pie.

As the door silently closed, the blue woman reached up to raid the top of the fridge. Packages crinkled in the silence of the place as she briefly rummaged, then pulled down her treasure with a triumphant grin.

Cookies.

Aw, yeah. The quest is saved.

Opening the refrigerator door again, she grabbed the milk, shook the carton critically, then nodded. Yeah, there should be enough left for a proper cookie binge.

Rainbow Dash spent the next hour curled up on the couch, reading Daring Do and the Forbidden City of Clouds while she munched. Sure enough, the milk lasted just long enough to wash the cookies down. Then, she tossed her rubbish into the bin, brushed the crumbs off of herself, and headed back to bed.

She hesitated. All she had to do was nudge Twilight’s shoulder a little, tell her it was okay, she could go back to her own bed. Or, if she wanted to be really cool about it – which was always the ideal – she could just crash out in Twilight’s bed.

Alone.

With… her dreams.

Finally, she crawled back under the covers with Twilight, the two women wrapping their arms around one another again as Rainbow fell back into a deep sleep.

You know. Just to be polite.

Author's Note

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Ending Credits: Silent Lucidity, by Queensryche.

Episode 20. Children of Trixie: Burn the Fields.

“This is all my fault,” Twilight said.

Rainbow Dash frowned. Twilight had spent the last something like six hours on the computer, oblivious to everything around her. Then, she’d just stopped. Like, sank back in her chair and stared at the wall for twenty minutes kind of stopped. Which was never a good sign.

Now that she’d finally said something, Rainbow Dash leaned cautiously forward from where she sat.

“What is?” she asked.

“Everything,” Twilight said in a defeated voice. “All of it.”

Rainbow looked around the fallout shelter that was their base of operations, then back to her friend.

“Um… can you be more specific?” She asked.

Twilight sighed.

“I realized, just today, that the way I helped Apple Bloom get out of the country was flawed,” she said, looking down into her lap. “Put simply, I forgot to create false positives for an individual to have been scanned in her place. I checked the airport records, and I think somebody’s already accessed them. Accessed them in the way you would if you were looking for someone who didn’t show on their security.”

Rainbow Dash’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

“There’s no sign that she’s been flagged by any law enforcement agencies yet,” Twilight added miserably. “And I covered her tracks just now, of course. But that’s too little, too late.”

She slumped, holding her face in her hands.

“I’m an idiot,” she whispered.

“Um, never in my experience,” her friend offered.

“So, I don’t dare even send a warning to her, because whoever Armor has working for him, I’m not certain I could detect if they’re watching her,” Twilight went on. She removed her glasses to wipe her eyes, then said, “So if Apple Bloom does have some sword of Damocles over her head, I’m the one who put it there.”

“Um, I’m pretty sure that would be the other hacker…”

But Twilight shook her head.

“It was my responsibility,” she said. “And it was my mistake. Which, by the way, was a stupid mistake. Careless. Like my other mistakes. And with what we’re doing, every mistake costs someone. Someone who either had nothing to do with this, or had no business being part of it. And that makes it my fault.”

“Okay, let’s say that’s true. I don’t think it is, but everybody makes mistakes, Twilight—”

“No!” Twilight was standing now. She turned to face Rainbow Dash, fists clenched, tears streaming down her face and breathing hard.

“No, that’s not good enough! It can’t be good enough!” she shouted. “When we first starting fighting the Sirens, we took on by default a higher responsibility through our use of magical power! And we failed, Rainbow Dash! Do you understand? We failed! And because we failed, innocent people died!”

Rainbow Dash opened her mouth, but Twilight overrode her, clutching the sides of her own head as she did.

“And now, it’s happening again! It’s still happening! Sweetie Belle, Apple Jack, now Apple Bloom…”

She collapsed then, and Rainbow Dash caught her as she fell, lowering her to the floor, holding her as she cried.

“And so many others,” Twilight wept. “Too many others! And now, it’s all happening again! How many people are going to die because of me now? Because of my stupid mistakes?”

For several minutes, Twilight simply cried, and Rainbow Dash simply held her. After a while, Twilight managed to speak again.

“It’s the jewel,” she said.

Rainbow Dash paused, uncertain. Finally, she said, “What?”

“It’s the jewel,” Twilight repeated miserably. “The one the Sirens divided between themselves. That’s what Trixie has been using.”

Rainbow Dash’s eyes went wide. “Are you sure?”

“I am now,” Twilight sniffed. “I found some footage of her. She was in a limo. The angle was bad, and it was badly pixilated, but when her driver opened the door I saw the green glow at her throat. It was the right size and shape. I wanted so badly for it to be something else…”

“It’s okay,” Rainbow Dash whispered, hugging her. “We’ll handle it.”

“We’ll handle it?” Twilight demanded, her head snapping up again to stare at her friend. “We’ll handle it? We’ll handle all the deaths caused by her gang? By her cult? By the mystical poison she’s been selling, calling it a drug? We’ll handle what happened to Gabby Driver, and who knows how many others before him?”

Rainbow Dash winced but said nothing.

“All I had to do – literally, all I had to do – was pick the damned thing up! Pick up the pieces and put them somewhere safe. Embed them in concrete. Drop them into the Marianas Trench. Launch them into space. Or, best of all, just fucking destroy them! And now it’s gotten on top of Trixie somehow, and it’s my fault because I wasn’t smart enough!”

Twilight took a slow, shuddering breath, let it out in a series of uneasy sobs.

Rainbow Dash sighed. Then, once again, she silently held her friend while she wept. She thought about trying to break the silence. About trying to make Twilight listen to her, somehow. And, not for the first time, she thought about tracking down some of Twilight’s old teachers at Crystal Prep and running over them with a truck.

But eventually, the tears slowed down. Twilight seemed more-or-less wrung out, and probably tired enough that she would listen. Then, and only then, Rainbow Dash broke the quiet that had grown between them.

“You weren’t the only one,” she said.

Twilight swallowed, saying nothing.

“We were all there,” Rainbow said, shifting her position slightly so her leg wouldn’t fall asleep. “All of us. Any one of us could have thought of grabbing the magic rocks they were using. But none of us did.

“And it’s not because we’re stupid. Or incompetent. I mean, okay, we all are, sometimes. But here’s the thing, Twilight: we’re not trained professionals. We never have been. This shit just came down around us, and we had to step up because literally no one else could.”

Waving an arm around them both for emphasis, she added, “I mean, look at us! We were high-school students, for fuck’s sake! We were in a band! And then shit got ill, and we’ve been playing catch-up as best we could ever since!

“And it’s not like a video game,” she went on bitterly, “where bodies dissolve and you can just walk over and collect the loot they spawn. This is real life, big as God and twice as ugly. You have to grab a fucking corpse, the bloody remains of somebody that you made dead, and then roll them around in your hands and grope your way through their shit. And, and… no. Just, fucking… no.”

“I still should have known better,” Twilight sighed. “I should have been thinking better…”

“No, you really shouldn’t have,” Rainbow Dash replied. “We’re not seasoned professional killers, any of us. We’re not even professional soldiers. And frankly, cool as it sounds from a distance, I don’t wanna be one.

“And because we’re not any of those things, we’re going to miss stuff. We’ve fucked up before, we’re gonna fuck up again. But the alternative is us not doing anything. Just letting crap like the school bombing and the Sirens’ magic go unchecked, letting it get more and more awful every day, forever. And like you’ve pointed out before, that’s even worse.”

Eventually, Twilight spoke again.

“That doesn’t fix it, though.”

“Yeah, I know,” Rainbow Dash sighed. “I don’t think anything can, the whole world’s pretty screwed.”

“Then what are we supposed to do?”

“Supposed to do? Hell, I don’t know. All we can do is our best, really. Just do our best, give people back control over their own fucking lives, and then get the hell out of the way when we’re done.”

It was close to twenty minutes later, and Twilight was back on her computer again, grimly typing away.

“Hey, you want something to eat?” Rainbow Dash offered.

Still typing, Twilight shook her head, no.

A few seconds later, Rainbow Dash set a glass of milk beside the keyboard.

Twilight looked up with an expression of mild irritation.

“Humor me,” Rainbow Dash said.

Twilight rolled her eyes, but she also took a sip before going back to her typing.

Rainbow Dash sat on one of the easy chairs nearby, cross-legged, watching.

Finally, she asked, “What are you working on now?”

Twilight shook her head again.

Inwardly, Rainbow Dash sighed. Whatever it was, apparently the Twi-brain was locked onto it hard. With nothing else to do for it, Rainbow picked up her Daring Do book and started reading. They’d talk when Twilight surfaced for air.

It was about an hour later, and the glass of milk was empty, when Twilight finally swiveled her seat around to look at Rainbow again.

“Last chapter,” the blue woman said, turning a page.

Smiling a little, Twilight rose and went to the kitchen area. She grabbed a pizza, popped it into the oven and set a timer.

As she turned back to Rainbow Dash, the blue woman set the book down again and said, “Okay, so? Whad’ya find?”

“I’ve confirmed the location of the opium farm the Children of Trixie are using,” Twilight said, running a hand through her hair. “It was the only logical place, really. I just didn’t want it to be true.”

“And?”

“Sweet Apple Acres.”

Rainbow Dash’s eyes went wide. “WHAT??”

Twilight nodded. “It’s the only suitable farmland that’s positioned such that it’s both easily accessible and easy to overlook, and also big enough for the kind of operation they’re running.”

Twilight could almost hear the pieces slamming together in Rainbow Dash’s mind.

“But…” Rainbow Dash stammered, “But… that means…”

“That means that when the cops attacked the Apple Farm, they were probably paid to do it,” Twilight affirmed grimly. “Or, at the very least, the commissioner who gave the order was.

“And no,” she added as Rainbow opened her mouth again, “it wasn’t Armor. This was before he was in charge. In fact, he wasn’t associated with the strike in any way.”

Looking uncomfortable, Twilight added, “Frankly, that’s what I was doing last. I just had to be certain that my brother hadn’t been in on it. Absolutely, completely certain.”

“And he wasn’t.”

“It’s literally impossible that he was.”

“Okay, cool,” Rainbow nodded. “First good news in a while.”

Turning and opening the fridge, Twilight continued, “The official excuse was drug charges, of course. Then the place stayed in escrow until the courts finished seizing it from Apple Bloom, by which time she was a fugitive anyway. The cops finally caught up with her at the farm, and set it on fire to smoke her out. Then Trixie bought it at a closed auction, set up a high wooden fence with guards all around it, tore down all the remaining trees, and started growing poppies.”

She tossed Rainbow Dash a beer and opened a soda for herself. Rainbow opened the bottle, drained it, tossed it into the bin.

“That’s completely fucked up,” she said.

“It is,” Twilight agreed.

“Yeah,” Rainbow nodded. “So, when do we attack?”

“I’ve had the herbicide ready for weeks, plus a flame thrower for afters,” Twilight said grimly. “Is tonight too soon?”

The limousine had pulled over to allow the goddess and her priestess to get out. The driver knelt before the vehicle, forehead pressed to the ground, waiting for her to command him further. For it was a rare occasion that the goddess saw fit to emerge into the public air, and rarer still that she did so with company. He was honored to be present for such an occasion.

Her emerald glow lifted her out of the car and towards the outer edge of the overpass. And with her servant beside her, the Great and Powerful Trixie seemed to consider carefully the far-off opium farm as it burned, illuminating the nighttime sky in crimson, orange and gold.

“It is beautiful,” Trixie said at last.

Wallflower Blush considered what was safest to say, and ultimately concluded that silence was best.

“It is beautiful,” Trixie said again. “Yet, it is also expensive. And expense is inconvenient.”

More silence. Trixie tilted her head, as if in thought.

“Trixie has determined that she is no longer amused by the Rainbooms and their antics,” she said at last.

Wallflower Blush nodded, still saying nothing.

Slowly, the robed and cloaked form rotated in the air to face her fully, green orbs blazing in the shadow of the goddess’ wide-brimmed hat. Her voice was very quiet, very dangerous.

“Find Twilight Sparkle and her Rainbooms, Wallflower Blush. Find them for Trixie.”

“Yeah, about that,” Wallflower said uneasily. “I mean, those guys all have magic, and Twilight is a genius who’s had time to plan, you know? Finding them is gonna be hard, maybe even impossible.”

The green glowing eyes narrowed dangerously, and Wallflower winced, quickly adding, “But... maybe we can lure them out.”

“Ah. You have a plan, then.”

“I’ve... got a few ideas, yeah.”

Trixie gazed at her coldly, then turned away, floating back into her waiting limousine.

“Good. Trixie is counting on you, Wallflower Blush,” she said. “Do not disappoint her.”

The door closed. Wallflower swallowed as the car started up and began to drive away.

“Yeah,” she muttered. “I’ll try not to.”

Meanwhile, Rainbow Dash watched the flames lick the buildings and fence of what was once Sweet Apple Acres. To her surprise, she found she was actually pretty relaxed about the whole thing.

Sure, gathering up the guards had been a slog. Disarming and zip-tying idiots at high speed always was. But running around the place with Twilight’s weed killer had been pretty fun, despite everything.

And burning the crops and buildings afterwards? Just taking everything that had been staining the memory of the Apple family and setting it on fucking fire?

Man, that had been fucking cathartic.

And now, she and Twilight were sitting on a rooftop maybe a half mile away, enjoying the view as Trixie’s Great and Powerful Opium Hideout burned to the goddamned ground.

She could hear Twilight on her cell phone, calling it in.

“Armor, no one, literally no one, gives a single, solitary damn what you think about this,” Twilight was saying. “The villains are tied up, the farm is gone, and you have dozens of busts just waiting for you to pick them up. You can either act on this, or not.”

There was a pause, followed by, “Do you remember Sweet Apple Acres? Well, it’s there. That’s why your noble police force of heroes raided it in the first place, Commissioner. They framed and murdered our friends wholesale so their land could be turned into a fucking opium farm. But it was all done by the right people behind closed doors, so I guess that’s not your problem, is it?”

Then she tore the phone in half and hurled the pieces into the darkness, turning and joining Rainbow Dash where she sat.

They sat together for a while, silently, just watching the farm burn.

“Sweet Apple Acres,” Rainbow Dash sighed at last. “Man, what the fuck.”

Twilight sighed as well, but said nothing, instead just looking out into the vast blaze.

Once again, for several minutes, neither of them spoke. Eventually, Rainbow Dash broke the silence.

“Twilight?”

“Hmm?”

“How the hell did we end up here?”

Twilight considered the distant inferno that engulfed the farm and its buildings.

“One decision at a time,” she said at last. “Psychology talks about how, when someone does something that goes against their self-concept, it creates a kind of crisis. Usually, you resolve it by either redefining yourself as someone who does do that kind of thing, thus creating a new self-concept that’s more likely to engage in such behavior… or you justify the act to preserve the old self-concept, which also makes such justifications easier in the future.

“There are other options, but those two are by far the most common. And neither one makes it less likely that you’ll do it again.

“Then, there’s the Foot in the Door Phenomenon,” she went on. “Which kind of weaponizes that same process against you. Remember, Anakin Skywalker didn’t become Darth Vader overnight. It was lots of smaller decisions and crises over the course of years, and he changed his self-concept or justified himself a tiny bit every time, each crisis edging him a little more into the darkness.”

Shrugging a little, she added, “Granted, when he killed Mace Windu, it created a huge new crisis… but without those other little nudges into the shadows, he would never have struck.”

“Yeah, but he did strike!” Rainbow observed in her best Pulp Fiction impression. “That mother-fucker cut his motherfucking arm off at the mother-fucking wrist!”

Grinning a little, Twilight nodded. “He did. And when he did, Palpatine offered him a justification, thus becoming a kind of living anchor for Anakin to hold onto for stability. And then later, when Anakin killed the trading guild and the younglings, he altered his self-concept on his own to better match that of Palpatine, as well as his actions as a new Sith.”

“Yeah, but he was crying, though.”

Twilight nodded. “Even while you’re resolving it, an identity crisis can hurt. And something like that would have been agony. But the point is, he was changing his ideas about who he was, in order to erase that hurt.

“So, by the time Obi-Wan found him, Anakin had changed his self-concept so much that killing his friend and mentor would no longer cause such a crisis of identity. And that was when he had truly become Darth Vader.”

“Yeah, I remember,” Rainbow nodded. “He had the Clone War, and we had the Gang War.”

“Yes.”

“Plus, we had the Sirens,” Rainbow Dash added. “Their magic also affected us. Hell, it’s still affecting some people.”

Twilight glanced at her, then looked mournfully back at the raging fire.

“We don’t have any real evidence to substantiate that,” she sighed.

Rainbow Dash drew her legs up and hugged them as she rested her chin on her knees.

“No,” she said miserably. “We don’t.”

More time passed in silence. They could hear the sirens as the fire department finally started to arrive, having ascertained that it was safe to approach the farm and fight the blaze.

“Hey, Twilight?”

“Hmmm?”

“If Obi-Wan had talked to Anakin on that river of lava,” Rainbow asked, “like, really talked to him, you think he might have reached him?”

Twilight considered this.

“Possibly,” she decided. “Anakin was still talking, and in a sense still listening. And he still felt it necessary to justify his actions. Also, he said ‘to me, the Jedi are evil.’ That’s not an absolute, it’s an acknowledgement of relativity.

“But Obi-Wan had shut himself down in his desperation to be able to kill his best friend, and that led to his condemning him. ‘Only a Sith deals in absolutes’ is itself an absolute, and a blatantly false one.

“So, yes. If Obi-Wan had appealed to Anakin logically, pointing out actual evidence for Chancellor Palpatine being the real enemy, I think he might have reached him. Especially if Anakin mentioned Padme. Obi-Wan could have pointed out how unlikely it was that the Sith actually had any power over death, especially when no one listed in the Jedi records ever had, including Yoda. And it wasn’t exactly a secret that the Sith would lie whenever they wanted to.

“But within the paradigm of our previous discussion, Darth Vader being irredeemable would have been Obi-Wan’s justification for killing Anakin. He had to believe that his friend was lost, in order to forgive himself. It was the only way he could preserve both his self-concept and his ability to take Anakin out. So, he’d stopped listening.”

“Huh,” Rainbow Dash mused. “Maybe that’s why he didn’t kill him at the end. He couldn’t quite buy his own line of crap.”

Twilight shrugged. “Maybe. Ironically, if Anakin had somehow started coming to his senses on his own, I think they could have both walked away from that, even with Obi-Wan’s determination. Sure, Anakin might have listened to Obi-Wan. But I think Obi-Wan would have definitely started listening again if Anakin had showed real remorse, or even just powered down his lightsaber.”

More silence.

“Awkward question,” Rainbow said at last.

“Awkward answer.”

“Shining Armor: Anakin or Obi-Wan?”

Twilight let her breath out in a long, regretful sigh.

“It’s not that simple,” she said. “We’re different people than that. We’re also not part of the same peacekeeping organization, and magic doesn’t seem to have a light or a dark side, even if he possessed any. Real morality’s harder than that.”

“Yeah, but,” Rainbow Dash pressed, “if he was one or the other…?”

Twilight made a sour face.

“It’s hard to say for certain,” she said. “But I hope he’s Obi-Wan.”

“Why?”

Twilight looked out at the expanse of flame that had started to engulf even the repurposed grain towers while the fire department struggled in vain to extinguish it.

“Because right now, he thinks we’re dealing only in absolutes,” she said. “And he’s stopped listening.”

Commissioner Armor stared at the phone on his desk for a long time, trying to process what he had just been told.

He’d heard about the Apple Farm raid after the fact. He’d read the file, once it had become available. And according to records, when the raid went down the place had been filled with narcotics. The main charge on the warrant had been trafficking, but with the rate of production and the amount of product stored, even that had seemed an understatement.

Plus, everyone who had been killed there had been flying at the time of the raid. Wired, heavily armed, and shooting at everything with a badge, determined to die hard. And afterwards, Apple Bloom had gone on to become a cop killer herself, dismissing any possible doubt as to her association with her family’s crimes.

At the time, he’d accepted it. With everything else that had happened, it had been just one more shock, one more heartbreak, one more betrayal.

But now…?

If the chain of events had really happened the way that Twilight said, if the property had really been sold off to the Children of Trixie right afterwards…

…then what about the raid?

What about everything?

Eventually, he realized he was still holding the receiver and hung up. Pressed a button on his desk.

“Carol?”

“Sir?” his receptionist replied.

“Send three trucks and some ambulances to the old Apple Farm, at the edge of town. Sweet Apple Acres, you’ll find the address on file. And call the fire department, if they’re not already there.”

“Yes, sir. Anything else?”

“Yes. Send in CSI, everybody we’ve got. I mean everybody. Twilight Sparkle was there, and I need every trace of everything they can get. Every burnt board, every chemical in every inch of soil, everything. If she dropped a single strand of hair and a half-eaten Chicken WacNugget into a gasoline fire, I want them both bagged, tagged, and on my desk.”

“Yes, sir.”

Clicking the intercom off, Commissioner Armor sat at his large, expensive desk for several more minutes. Then, determined, he rose. Opened the door and stepped out, pausing to glance at Carol Holiday, diligently typing away.

“Carol, I think I’ll be taking dinner in my office again,” he said. “Could you pick me up a couple of sandwiches?”

The younger woman smiled, already rising. “The usual?”

“Yeah. Actually, could you make it four? I think tonight’s going to be a long one.”

“Sure thing, Commissioner. Fries?”

“As many as you can carry.”

She grinned and nodded, reaching for her purse. “Will do.”

Armor went back into his office. Waited until he heard her leave. Then, waited longer, giving her time to get out of the building completely.

Finally, he exited his office once more. He headed downstairs to the main floor, then down to the basement level below. Down the silent, dusty, less-traveled concrete hallways. There, out of sight and away from the desks, offices, and meeting rooms of the rest of the department, waited long-term storage, old physical files, janitor supplies…

…and the hacker, White Hat.

Author's Note

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Ending Credits: Burn the Fields, by A Life Divided.

Episode 21. Children of Trixie: A Question of Honour.

As usual, there was music as Armor approached the hacker’s domain. Steeling himself for another assault on his senses by gangster rap, to his surprise it sounded more like… opera?

Hm. Apparently, White Hat had more diverse tastes than he’d realized.

Then, he heard her voice. She was moaning, as if in pain. Her moans and cries distinctly getting louder, clearer with every second, even with the music playing.

Armor broke into a run, nightmarish images assailing his mind. Someone had gotten into her room, he realized. She’d left it unlocked before. And, fresh from Twilight’s latest accusations, he had to admit to himself that White Hat wouldn’t be the first witness to be viciously beaten by the Stillwater PD.

That’s why the change in music, he thought frantically, someone just put on a random soundtrack to cover the sounds of their brutality…!

He reached the door when he heard the scream, only slightly muffled by the steel as he grabbed his keys and hastily unlocked the portal and flung it open…

There was a second’s pause as he stared, frozen in shock. Then, she opened her eyes and looked over languidly… and saw him.

Instantly, she was in motion, scrambling for her sheets, shrieking, “JESUS!” And he was on the other side of the freshly slammed door, absolutely mortified.

There were some fumbling sounds from within, and the music stopped, leaving Armor alone with what had just happened.

She’d been naked. Flushed and shaking from climax, achingly beautiful. Several years younger than he was, but definitely of age. And no matter how he tried, the questions, along with the images, just wouldn’t stop.

He knew what a dildo was, of course. But that thing had looked more like a baseball bat than a sex toy.

Wouldn’t using something like that hurt?

Where did she get it in the first place? How did she get it into the building?

Should he confiscate it as a weapon?

And if he did, how would he fill out the paperwork?

And… why was it purple?

Then, mercifully, he heard another sound coming from within.

Laughter.

Thank whatever gods there are, he thought. At least I didn’t emotionally scar the poor girl for life.

Finally, reluctantly, he rapped his knuckles on the door.

“Oh,” she laughed, “Now he knocks!”

“I am really, really sorry,” he said, eyes screwed shut. “God, I’m sorry. Can I come in? Are you decent? I am so sorry...”

There was still mirth in her voice as she said, “You can, and I’m… well, shit, what are you going to do, unsee me?”

Carefully, slowly, Shining Armor opened the door.

White Hat was sitting on her bed, still slightly aglow, ruby hair tousled. She was wrapped in a white sheet, which did exactly nothing to diffuse the situation, but mercifully the giant phallus was nowhere in sight.

“I am so, God, I am so sorry,” he said.

She chuckled a little, shaking her head. “Don’t sweat it, Boss. Honestly, I think that was harder on you than me. I mean, if you’d really wanted to watch…”

Feeling himself grow even more crimson, Armor covered his eyes with one hand. “Oh, come on, don’t do that.”

He could hear the grin in her voice as she continued, “What? You know what they say, it’s always better with someone watching…”

He covered his face with both hands, saying nothing.

“Okay, you’re right,” White Hat said, her voice suddenly compassionate. “I’m sorry. You caught me off guard, and I’m sorry. I’ll be good, it’s okay, I’ll stop making you uncomfortable. Honest. I’m sorry.”

Nodding, still blushing, he lowered his hands and stared at the ceiling, saying, “And I do apologize for barging in on you. Seriously.”

“And I accept your apology, and offer my own, equally seriously.”

“Accepted,” he said, much relieved.

White Hat nodded, saying, “Can I safely call attention to one point of irony, though?”

“I… think so?”

“If you ever had wanted to find out what I’m into, I’m pretty sure it’s all on file somewhere,” she said. “When I was caught, the FIB did a thorough investigation on all my online activities, and they threatened to defame my character with them if I went to court.”

He stared at her, horrified. “You’re kidding.”

She shrugged. “Nope. They had me dead to rights anyway, but me being into kink let them add humiliation to the equation.”

He kept staring, absolutely outraged, and a moment later she laughed again.

“Okay, now you look like a protective dad,” she said, grinning.

He winced, and she sighed.

“Sorry,” she said again. “I didn’t know.”

He shook his head. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault, it’s mine.”

She sighed again, running a hand through her hair. “I guess today is our day for tripping on each other’s land mines, huh?”

He smiled a little. “Interesting analogy. But yeah, I guess so.”

There was a moment of silence, and then she said, “So, moving on to other subjects, what beings you to my little nook?”

Nodding, Shining Armor said, “I want you to look at every file associated with the Apple family and Sweet Apple Acres. And I mean do a thorough investigation, looking for any and all signs of possible in-house tampering, as well as what was most likely really done at the time. Before, during, and after the raid. And by whom.”

Suddenly, White Hat was all business again. With a speed he hadn’t thought possible, she maneuvered under her sheet, and then emerged safely clad in a black sports bra and shorts. An instant later, she was seated in front of her setup and typing.

After a few more moments, Shining Armor said, “You haven’t asked me why you’re looking into this.”

“Nope,” she affirmed, still typing, “I sure haven’t.”

After a few more seconds, he spoke again.

“This isn’t an official inquiry.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t get caught.”

Still hovering awkwardly, he added, “It’s not part of the investigation, so you don’t have to do this.”

“I’ve read Apple Bloom’s File. And you guys just raided her family’s old plantation. And you’re worried enough that you’re asking questions off the book. So yeah, I think maybe I do.”

More silence. Finally, White Hat spoke again.

“Okay, so just to clear the air,” she said, still typing, “You’ve got a ring, and you’re a total boy scout. Also, a dad.

“Protective dad, specifically,” she added with just a hint of a smile in her voice.

Then, serious again, “But you spend most of your nights in your office. Plus, you’re a cop. So, I’m guessing married, but separated. Right so far?”

“That’s right,” he said cautiously. “Four years apart, but I’m still married.”

“Right. So, it’s been a long time – like, a really long time, Jesus Christ – for both of us.

“But,” she added, holding up a finger, “I don’t do marrieds – not closed marrieds, anyway – and you don’t fool around. That sound about right?”

Armor felt himself relaxing a little. “That’s exactly right.”

She nodded, typing again. “Okay. So, we both know what you saw. And you are hot in every way there is to be hot. We’re not children. We’re not kids. But we’re also not doing anything, and we’re not going to do anything.”

She clicked on a few things, then resumed typing, saying, “So, we’re both going to be strong, and if need be, we’re going to be strong for each other. And someday you’ll get back with your wife, and when you do you’ll feel really, really fucking good about it. Because, and this is the important part… nothing happened.”

She pivoted in her chair to face him.

“Deal?” she asked.

He smiled, holding out his hand. “Okay. Deal.”

She shook her head, turning back around.

“Nonono, no physical contact,” she said. “Not yet. I am not ready for that. You just work on getting back with your wife, and I’ll fantasize about people in spiked leather with safety words. Okay?”

“Okay. Deal,” he said again. “And… thank you.”

She smiled. “No problem.”

Then, as he turned to leave, she flashed him a mischievous grin over a freckled, cream-colored shoulder.

“So, you gonna knock next time?”

He matched her grin with a wink. “Well, only if you want me to.”

She gave him a startled look, and then she started laughing again. Armor laughed as well, and both were still laughing when he closed and re-locked the door.

She listened to the sound of his footsteps retreating along the disused concrete hall. After a minute in the silence of her workspace, White Hat sighed, leaning back.

She thought about his shoulders, the way his suits fit him when he moved. His smile. The way his abs would feel. How strong his arms probably were.

All that, plus kindness, integrity, and a sense of humor.

She shook her head in disbelief as she worked.

“I am a saint,” she muttered. “I… am a fucking… saint.”

She finished the last line of code she’d been working on, hit Enter, and sat back, staring at the far wall.

“This world does not deserve me.”

The fallout shelter reeked of dust. It seemed to cover everything. The walls, the floors… oh, Sunset had cleaned the ceiling as much as she could, and sprayed the hell out of the place to get rid of the bugs. But Wallflower suspected that if she left tomorrow, the only real traces of Sunset having been there would have been the tracks she and her equipment would leave on the dusty concrete floor.

The ancient bulbs buzzed and flickered, yellowed with age, illuminating crates of various supplies left over from the Cold War. Rusted steel shelves were stacked haphazardly along one wall, along with rolls of unused carpet, filing cabinets, and broken desks, all covered with generations worth of dust and grime.

And lastly, the familiar pile of stone ruin that lay to the side. Huge, ancient pieces of shattered stone, brought in from above, long ago. A final memento of the day that everything had changed.

Sunset Shimmer was sitting at her workstation in the middle of the room, typing away, surrounded by tables of computer equipment, food, and air purifiers.

Wallflower knocked on the huge steel doors, shave-and-a-haircut.

In a flash, Sunset was standing, pistol in hand, pointing at the huge portal. Then, frowning, she lowered her firearm.

“Wally?”

Feeling miserable, Wallflower Bush let herself be seen.

Seeing Wallflower Blush de-cloak, or whatever it was, had always been disorienting for Sunset. It wasn’t so much like she popped into view, or even faded in, so much as the mind just suddenly understood that she was there. Like being a kid playing outside, and then suddenly looking around and realizing that it was dark out, and that it had been for some time.

Sunset let out a breath, lowering her gun. “God damn it, what the hell are you thinking?”

For her part, Wallflower just shrugged.

“I mean, not that I’m not glad to see you,” Sunset added. “It’s just… you’re going to get hurt, startling people like that. It’s not like when we were in school, you know?”

Still silent, Wallflower wrapped her arms around herself protectively, looking anywhere but at Sunset.

Frowning, Sunset rose and started to approach her. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

And then, considering for a moment, she added, “Also, how did you find me? Again, not that I’m not glad to see you…”

Her voice trailed off, and she added a cautious, “I… am glad to see you, aren’t I?”

Wallflower shrugged again.

Gently, careful to avoid direct skin contact, Sunset reached out, put a hand on Wallflower’s shoulder.

“Hey?”

Finally, Wallflower spoke.

“I’ve known you were here for a while,” she said softly. “I mean, where else would you go? This is where you first came through the gate, where it all started. Where else would you feel safe?”

Sunset gave a sheepish chuckle. “Heh. Maybe I should move.”

The green woman shook her head, still looking away. “I wouldn’t worry. Somebody – I assume you – changed the school blueprints online. Officially, this place doesn’t exist, and never did. And since Armor never went to school here, the cops don’t have a clue.”

Sunset raised a knowing eyebrow. “Uh-huh. And how do you know that?”

Wallflower gave another shrug. “It’s my job to peek over the right shoulders from time to time. Especially when those shoulders are searching for you and your friends, and where you might be hiding. Which is kind of why I’m here, and kind of not.”

Sunset’s smile vanished and she took on a worried frown. “Your job?”

“You know I’m working for Trixie, right?”

“I’d… suspected.”

“Well, suspect no more. And however bad you think it is, it’s worse.”

“Do you need a place to hide? I’ve got space.”

“That won’t help.”

“But—”

Wallflower shrugged off her hand as she walked away from her, further into the room.

“Trixie’s got my hair,” she said. “It doesn’t matter where I am.”

“What? But she doesn’t have that kind of…”

“Those green amulets the Sirens had, during the gang war,” Wallflower sighed, shaking her head. “Somehow, Trixie combined them into one. Or maybe they were always the same stone, I don’t know. But her magic is super powerful now. There’s no escape. Not for me, not for any of us.”

“Wally?” Sunset whispered, growing pale.

Silence.

Sunset swallowed. “Wally, does she know where I am?”

Wallflower’s back was etched in sorrow as she shook her head again.

“If she asked, I'd have to tell her,” the green woman said. “I wouldn’t have any choice. But she's never asked.”

Then, with another sigh, she added, “Maybe she doesn't care. Maybe it's just never occurred to her. All she really cares about is that damn stone. It's taken over her life completely.”

Then, miserably, she finally turned to face Sunset, eyes filled with unshed tears.

“You wouldn't recognize her if you saw her, Sunny. She doesn't eat, she barely drinks anything… I don't think she even sleeps. She just fawns over her amulet and schemes, with the occasional break to kill somebody. It's like if a junkie’s drug was turning them into a demigod. I don’t know how long I’ve got, I…”

Sunset moved to embrace her, but Wallflower stepped back, shaking her head.

“No, no contact,” she said.

“But I wasn’t—”

“I know, but I can’t chance it. Anybody finds out too much about anything, even by accident, I’m as good as dead.”

“Then… Wally, why are you here?”

Wallflower sniffed, then looked away again.

“I’m here to lure Twilight into a trap.”

For a moment, all Sunset could do was stare.

“What?”

“Trixie wants to kill Twilight. And any other Rainbooms working with her,” Wallflower said dejectedly. “She’ll be at a set location, waiting with a small army, all armed to the teeth. And I’m here to make sure Twilight goes there.”

Despite herself, Sunset took a step back. Her sidearm, still pointed down, was nonetheless a reassuring weight in her hand.

“And I mean, sure, I want Twilight to know it’s a trap,” Wallflower went on, the tears flowing freely now. “I want her to win! And the whole way here, I kept thinking she could! But now…”

Arms still crossed, the green woman hunched over, her fingers digging into her arms as she finished, “But the more I think about it, the more I’m not sure she can, and if she can’t… Sunset, what the hell have I turned into?”

Slowly, carefully, Sunset moved to one side, so she wouldn’t be blocking Wallflower’s path to the door. She sat down cross-legged, the least threatening posture she could think of, and thought very carefully about her next words.

“I can’t tell you that,” she said at last. “I’ve never been in your position. And I sure as hell can’t look at this unemotionally. So, let me ask you this: are you deliberately trying to set up Twilight?”

Wallflower stared, putting her clenched fists to her chest.

“What? No!” she cried. “God, no!”

“Okay, then,” Sunset said, as calmly as she could. Her voice sounded cold, even to her. “Give me the information, and I’ll see to it that Twilight gets it. And I’ll make sure she knows it’s a trap, and how powerful Trixie is, and why. That’s why you’re here, right?”

Unable to speak, Wallflower nodded.

“Then just give me the information and go. The less you know from here, the better. Just in case Trixie does ask you.”

Finally, Wallflower nodded. “There’s one condition, though.”

Sunset felt a sudden, irrational surge of rage fill her.

You’re already putting Twilight into a trap, she thought wildly, one that you think is probably going to get her killed, and now you’re setting conditions?!?

Sunset grabbed the thought and the anger behind it, wrestled it down, forced it into a box in her mind. She would deal with that later. In the meantime, she hoped that her struggle hadn’t shown.

So, she kept her voice as calm and steady as she could as she asked, “What condition?”

“Twilight has to promise not to kill her. No matter what happens, Trixie lives.”

Sunset stared, and, once again, Wallflower turned away.

“You and me, we’ve both been under the influence of bad magic,” Wallflower said quietly. “So has Twilight. Remind her, if you have to. After all, the only difference between us and Trixie is that somebody was there for us. Somebody was there to help us, when we needed it the most.”

Then, looking back at Sunset, she added, “But when Trixie needed it, nobody was there for her. Not you. Not me. And so, some weird magical jewel got on top of her. Which means that everything she’s done, all of it, no matter how bad… that could have been us.”

Sunny nodded, her anger gone as suddenly as it had risen. “I’m pretty sure she won’t need reminding, but I’ll remind her anyway. And I’m sure that she’ll give her promise. And keep it.”

“And if she won’t?”

“I won’t tell her unless she does.”

Wallflower nodded. “Okay. I hope I can trust you. I mean, if I’m wrong about you, if you’ve changed for the worse, like so many others…”

Then, shaking her head, “God, I am so screwed.”

Sunset gave her a rueful look. “You know, for what it’s worth, my offer still stands.”

“No, I should go.”

Wallflower walked to the door. Then, turning back to Sunset, she said, “She’s at the steel plant. She said there would be about a hundred guys there, but figure more, and figure they’ll all be armed to the teeth and flying on something. And maybe other stuff, too. Trixie doesn’t tell me everything.”

“Okay, I’ll let her know. Thanks, Wally.”

Wordlessly, Wallflower Blush slowly pulled open the massive doors.

“You know,” Sunset said gently, “if Twilight didn’t promise, then I wouldn’t tell her. That means she wouldn’t go. And you know Trixie would take it out on you, right? You’re literally risking your life to save her. So, if you’re wondering what the hell you’re turning into, I think that’s a pretty good indicator.”

Wallflower hesitated, and for a moment Sunset thought she might say something else, or even change her mind about staying. But then she was gone, the steel portal slowly closing behind her.

Sunset looked at the gun in her hand with something bordering on disgust, and tossed it away, sending it skittering and spinning into the dust.

She rose, dusted off her jeans, walked over to the doors. Then she sat down again, her back against the cold steel that separated her from the rest of the human race.

“You’re a better friend than I am, Wally,” Sunset whispered. “Better than I’ve ever been, or ever could be. Thank you for that.”

She looked around herself at the filthy bunker that had become her life. Then, she closed her eyes, letting herself slump, forehead to her knees. Hugging her legs, she thought of her foalhood, years and worlds away. She thought of her friends, past and present. People she’d loved and hurt through the years, both living and lost.

Then, she forced her head up again.

“But that’s not today,” she said. “Today, I have things to do.”

With an effort of will, she stood, and made herself walk to her workstation once more.

“And if there’s a way that I can help make things better, then I’m going to do it.”

A minute later, she was typing again, carefully creating as traceless a virtual pathway as she could between herself and the woman who still held her heart.

Wallflower closed the massive doors, crossing her arms around herself once more. There was so much she’d wished she could tell Sunset. So much she wished she could undo, or go back and do differently, or even do differently today.

Still, it remained: there were a few things she could do, right now.

Wallflower Blush kissed her own fingertips, then touched the kiss to the door. Closing her eyes, she sent her power into the door and through it, along the concrete walls and through them, through floor and ceiling and back again. Strengthening the magic that encased the fallout shelter once again, as she had so many times before.

She sighed, letting her arm fall listlessly to her side. There were a lot of things she would have liked to tell Sunset about. Keeping her headquarters unnoticed and easily forgotten was just one of them. But the fewer who knew that she was doing anything to help at all, the better.

After all, she’d already trusted someone once, and that had landed her in chains. The second time could be fatal. And it wasn’t like Sunset would want to have anything to do with her after this, anyway.

Still hugging herself miserably, Wallflower Blush started up the broken stairs of her old school, alone as always, upwards into the ruins of her past. The shadows and dust reached out to embrace her, and then she was gone.

Author's Note

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Ending credits: A Question of Honour, by Sarah Brightman.

SEASON ONE: THE SEARCH

In which some sleepers awaken, and some of the wakeful dare to dream.

Author's Note

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Opening Credits: The Search, by NF.

Episode 7. Rainbooms: Saints.

The AI Twilight had controlling the car was sophisticated, and its task was relatively simple on the face of it. Go from point A to point B and back, along a predesignated route, without hitting anything. But there were traffic lights to be considered, not to mention pedestrians and other drivers. So, even with it drawing data from traffic cameras, it still required supervision.

Glancing at the time and the car’s position, Twilight hesitated, then called up a sound program and clicked PLAY. Opening another window, she accessed police communications, allowing the recording to broadcast along the helicopter’s radio frequency.

Security cams showed Apple Bloom and Rainbow Dash still holding their own, though the halls were filling with cops. Cell towers within range of both the hospital and courthouse were still down, though technicians were already starting counter-measures. Landlines and police radio were still under control.

Meanwhile, the hacker had neutralized the viruses in record time. Whoever they were, they were good. Really good.

Police? FIB?

Twilight frowned again.

Maybe.

Under normal circumstances, she’d have handled them easily. Maybe let them keep their computer, maybe not, depending on who they were. But gods, she’d never been so tired…

She shook herself, slapped herself a few times. She had to stay sharp. The energy drinks weren’t doing anything anymore. Twilight couldn’t remember ever feeling so drained. When she’d first awakened after the escape, she’d only felt hollow… now, she felt like her life was being sucked out a little bit more every time she so much as moved her hands.

The hacker should never have been able to get this close—

Her eyes snapped open. Oh, God! Was she sleeping? Had she just let everyone down again, one last time?

Oh, God, she thought frantically. Oh, God, please, no…!

With difficulty, she refocused on the screens surrounding her. Apparently, she had dropped off, but only for a few seconds. The automated defenses were still keeping the other hacker more or less at bay. But a message was displayed now, sent to Twilight along a courthouse server the hacker had managed to access.

PLEASE. LET ME IN. I CAN HELP YOU.

Twilight stared, what remained of her adrenaline reserves temporarily dispelling her fatigue.

After a moment’s thought, she typed in, WHO ARE YOU?

The hacker replied with a single name.

Twilight stared. It could be a trick. It had to be.

TWILIGHT?

But if it wasn’t, this was the one person who could actually help them, the way they needed the most.

TWILIGHT??

Twilight bit her lower lip, blinked back her tears. Even if it wasn’t a trick…!

TWILIGHT, PLEASE!

The prompt still hovered before Twilight: Allow Access (Y/N)? Her hands were shaking from sheer exhaustion, it was getting hard to see again. Twilight wasn’t sure she could keep the intruder out for much longer, anyway. Not with everything else she was trying to do.

Please, she thought. Please, don’t let this be another mistake.

Trembling, her hand guided the mouse to Y, and with a single click she let the intruder in.

From the very beginning, the network had set up everything to interrupt the anchorpeople on a moment’s notice with her feed, ready to scoop every other channel on the so-called ‘Trial of the Century.’ But it had been pretty clear that nothing was going to happen.

Now, Rundown looked around herself at the people milling around, the police chopper suddenly veering away from the courthouse to go God knew where. There had been a moment of something to actually report when the building alarms had gone off, and people poured out from the courthouse in a mix of confusion, panic, and indignation... all of them soaked to the bone.

Then, even as civilians were flooding out, previously hidden cops had swarmed around the courthouse. They’d forced their way through the crowds and into the building, shotguns at the ready, along with what she was pretty sure were at least a couple of assault rifles. But by the time she’d finished even describing the scene and made her own way past the crowd of people, the police were almost all inside.

She’d considered following them in, but they’d left a pair of SWAT officers at the courthouse doors. In full armor. With weapons out.

So, for several minutes, she had continued her narration as gunfire could be heard from within, even over the various alarms going off. Speculating why the city had found it necessary to send in a small army to deal with whatever was inside. Speculating why they’d apparently been expecting to need to.

Once, she’d started approaching the cops playing sentry at the doors. But when they’d stepped towards her in unbridled, silent hostility, her boss had cut in and told her to back off.

Reluctantly, she’d done just that.

And then, the network had cut back to the news desks, giving her instructions to let them know when there were further developments, and they would get her live again.

God dammit. God dammit.

Whatever was going on in there, she was shut out. City hall would put out a statement about a fire or something, and everything would go back to…

She paused in mid-seethe. Someone was speaking to her through her earpiece. Someone she didn’t recognize.

Frowning, Rundown pressed a finger against her earpiece.

“What?” she snapped. “Who is this? No, you listen! How did you…? What?”

Then, staring at her cameraman, “Nat! Go to live feed! Go to live feed right now!”

He paused, staring at his camera’s screen as he chased her down the wide stone steps. “What the hell?”

“Go to live feed!”

With a nod, he burst into action, even as she positioned herself stage center before the stone building.

“Live feed is up!” he announced as he positioned himself as well. “Okay, streaming their video with your voice and an overlay. Station is picking it up, aaaaand… go!”

Spinning to face the camera, the courthouse and its armed guard positioned behind her, the reporter immediately began speaking with professional intensity.

“This is Rundown reporting live from Canterlot City courthouse,” she said, “where we have gained access to a live feed of security from inside the building! What you are seeing is actual, live footage of Canterlot Police using indiscriminate deadly force, firing blindly into a courtroom without regard to the civilian lives within. Lives which we are told include a city justice and at least two attorneys…”

“This is your plan?” Rainbow Dash shouted over the din.

Even as she yelled, machinegun fire continued to tear through the portal between them, bullets slowly chewing through the concrete walls to either side.

“Hole up in a courtroom while they take keep spraying at us, and we’re supposed to keep deaths to a minimum?” she raged. “Great plan, you guys! Awesome plan! And where’s Twilight, on a fucking break? We should be riding into the fucking sunset by now!”

“She said she had t’finish gettin’ our evac here!” Apple Bloom shouted back. “Somethin’ about another rescue, but they’ll be here any time!”

“Well, it’s ‘any time’ now, so where the fuck are they?!?”

And then, without warning, the world simply exploded.

No, Rainbow Dash realized, not the world. She could tell it hadn’t been the world. After all, she was lying on top of things. With other things, in turn, on top of her. You need a world for that. Something about gravity? Yeah. That was a gravity thing. She was pretty sure about that.

Feeling more secure about her deductions by the second, she painfully pulled herself into a sitting position and looked around, broken plaster falling from her torso as she did. It was just the outer wall that had exploded. In an amazingly controlled burst of force, in fact, crumbling the stone far more than blasting it inward. And even with her eyes unfocused as they were, Rainbow knew that silhouette, those arms splayed outward in celebration. Just as, even with the ringing in her ears, she could recognize her friend and rescuer’s voice:

“HEEEEEEEERE’S PINKIE!”

With a relieved grin, she fell back into a prone position.

“Well, hiyo goddamn silver,” she said.

Smiling, Pinkie Pie extended both arms and pulled Rainbow and Apple Bloom to their feet, ignoring the confused groans of the others still sheltered by the judge’s bench.

“What about the cops?” Rainbow Dash asked.

“Oh, the other charge just dropped the roof on them,” Pinkie chided with a wave of dismissal, staggering slightly as she did. “They’ll be fine, silly. They’re wearing armor! Twilight distracted the helicopter, and... and did you know Adderall tastes purple?”

Apple Bloom gave her a look of concern. “What? Hey, are you…?“

“No civvies ‘n th’ hall, Twilight checked.” Pinkie interrupted, her words becoming slightly slurred. “An’ all th’ cops outside came in t’shoot at you guys, so if we leave right now, we even gedda, head start!”

“Pinkie,“ Rainbow Dash tried, “slow down. What’s…?”

“C’mon!” Pinkie chirped, suddenly brimming with energy again. “We get to rappel down to the getaway car and Twilight’s going to manage the lights and stuff, and who doesn’t love to rappel?”

“Well…” Apple Bloom started. But Pinkie had already leaped headlong out the massive hole she’d blown in the wall, her voice fading downward.

“Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeee…!”

The other two women exchanged a glance, and then shrugged.

“Aw, what the hell,” Apple Bloom said.

Shining Armor had the monitor room to himself, having sent even the security personnel to back up the SWAT teams sent in. When the double-blast had rocked the courthouse, he’d reached out to steady himself, frowning. What was that, explosives? Then, his eyes had widened with realization.

Pinkie Pie.

He hadn’t heard anything about her escape, of course. But with Twily involved that didn’t mean much. Damn it! He should have sent a unit to watch her, or even had her moved to a more secure location…

“Hey, Shining?” Twilight’s unsteady voice cut in, “Not trying to tell you how to do your job, but… do you really need that many monitors for one security room?”

Despite himself, Shining Armor smiled a little as he looked around the empty room, and then at the lone security camera above the door.

“Your tax money at work,” he said. “One building, a hundred rooms… sixteen security monitoring stations, each with its own computer.”

“And one host for the entire building,” she added, the sound of typing plainly heard in the background. “You might want to change that. Also, ‘Lycurgus2000’ isn’t really a secure password.”

“I’ll send a memo,” he said. Then, with a sigh, “You sound like hell, Twily.”

“Yes, well, keeping your friends from being killed is pretty tiring. So is staying alive while doctors and prison guards are trying to murder you. But I manage.”

He stared at the camera in disbelief. “Is that what you think you were doing here? Saving lives?”

There was the slightest pause. For a moment, he thought he’d reached her.

“I know I was,” Twilight snapped. “Rainbow Dash would have been killed if I hadn’t gotten her out. And what they were doing to Pinkie was a living hell!”

“They had their day at court! They both--!”

“Oh, cut the crap, big bro!” Twilight interrupted. “We saved people! We saved Canterlot! We even saved you!”

“Dammit, Twily, that’s not how the real world works!” Shining snapped back. “If you want to help people, be a firefighter or a cop, or join the service! Don’t--!”

“Shut up, Shining!” she spat. “You don’t get to talk to me about ‘the real world’ like I’m still a child, or like I’ve lived my entire life in some VR simulation while you had the only keys to reality!

“You want to know why we’re wanted felons? It’s because magical monsters from another world turned the city into a war zone and were taking over the planet, and we stopped them! Not the cops, not the army, us! We were outnumbered, outclassed, and overwhelmed by their magic. Magic that had become more powerful than ours. And we fought anyway, with everything we had!

“And after the school was blown up and our friends were killed and we started using the only tools we had left, your precious cops started trying to kill us! Not the Sirens, us! And do you know why?”

“Because you broke the law! Twilight, you killed people!”

She sighed again then, a tired, almost dried-out sound.

“Yes,” she said. “Yes, we did. Given the choice between killing and dying, we learned how to kill. And now, we’ve killed again. That’s not something I’m proud of. None of us are.

“But don’t fool yourself, Shining. That’s not why we’re targets now. We’re targets because throughout history, the purpose of a police force has always been to enforce normalcy. No matter what their professed intent might be, as individuals or as an organization, at the end of the day their function is to maintain the status quo. And as soon as the Sirens gained power over Canterlot and then the country, corruption and murder became normal. It became the status quo. And it has been, ever since.

“And if you’re going to protect that… then…”

There was a pause, and with an unsteady voice she finished, “…then you’re the enemy, Shining.”

“Twilight, listen to yourself!” he cried. “How can you be so blind? I have a duty to the public--!”

“You mean the same public your own cops brutalize and keep in mortal terror every day?” she demanded, fatigue finally disintegrating what little control she had left. “The public your own cops kill with impunity? I’ve seen what you call ‘protect and serve,’ we all have! So don’t try to take the high road on this one, big brother. You don’t get to pull some ‘higher office’ or ‘public trust’ card. You don’t have the public trust anymore. You haven’t for a long time.”

“What I have is a responsibility! A moral obligation to keep order through upholding the law! Do you remember what that’s like? To have morals?”

“What you have is owners, Shining! Whoever took over in the power vacuum Rich Hues and the Sirens left behind, they own you. That’s the only way you went from undercover snitch to police commissioner almost overnight. You are bought and paid for, and they’ve got three years of our lives as the receipts!”

Her voice became soft again, full of tears as she went on, “And you know what? One fine day, your office phone is going to ring. You’ll pick it up, and it’ll be whoever is pulling your strings, saying it’s time to take us down. To bring us in so we can be executed, nice and legal, as a message to anyone else who dares to fight them. And when they do, you’ll do everything in your power to make it happen.”

“What? Twily, I’d never--!”

“Why not? You have before.”

As Shining Armor stood in shocked silence, his sister’s voice became soft, filled with regret.

“And yes, we’re public enemy number one,” she said. “Thank you for that. But history has shown what happens when a person’s society and its rulers turn against them. Compare the examples of Trotsky and Alcibiades to those of Tepes and Sombra. When you’re in our position, you’ve got two options. You can either spend the rest of your life in hiding, waiting to have your head smashed in or get shot while running out of a burning house…

“…or, you can conquer.”

The Rainbooms logo began vanishing from the various monitors one by one, but Twilight’s voice continued with crystal clarity over the connection.

“So we’re taking back Canterlot, Shining,” she said. “And yes, we’re doing it for the people. But we’re also doing it for us. And if you’re smart, you’ll stay the hell out of our way.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Shining Armor barely realized he was moving as he slowly slumped into a chair. He was too dizzy to stand, too nauseous to speak. He barely noticed that the systems were again completely under local control, barely heard when the door opened again, a young officer informing him that the press were gathered outside, wanting to talk to him.

Only one thought ruled his mind.

Twilight.

Author's Note

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Ending Credits: (s)AINT, by Marilyn Manson. (Lyrics = NSFW)

Intermission 3. Rainbooms: True Colors.

“Eighteen.. nineteen... c’mon, Twi, one more sit-up.”

“Mmmmmph...!”

“It’s just one sit-up! You can do one sit-up, can’t’cha?”

“Urrrrrrrgh...!”

“C’mon, Twi, don’t wuss out on me now!”

With a wordless scream, Twilight gave a final surge of effort, connecting her elbows to her bent knees before collapsing.

In a microsecond of blurring speed, Rainbow Dash caught Twilight before her head hit the floor, cradling her in her arms even as she offered her yet another bottle of noxious green solution.

“Are you okay?” Rainbow asked anxiously. “Are you okay, did you tear anything...?”

“Hm-mm,” Twilight shook her head as she drank greedily.

Rainbow Dash watched uneasily as the liquid quickly vanished. It was almost gone when Twilight put it aside, gasping, “No... I’m good... and even if... I wasn’t... it would heal up... pretty quick...”

“Uh-huh,” said Rainbow, giving her a doubtful look. “You keep saying that. All about how you need to half kill yourself. Me, though, I need to take it easy.”

“You... ugh... gimme a minute,” Twilight managed between gulps of air, rolling unevenly onto her side. Rainbow Dash could almost hear her heart hammering in her chest. She nodded and sat back in what she hoped was an encouraging position.

“Sure, take your time. Not like you’re giving fitness nuts a bad name or anything.”

Just then, the basement door flew open, sock feet quickly padding down the concrete steps. Apple Bloom paused at their base, staring at Twilight.

“Y’know, y’could jus’ shoot a body, ‘steada scarin’ her t’death!”

Rainbow Dash turned back to Twilight, pointing at their friend.

“See?” she demanded. “Even Bloomers thinks you’re pushing too hard!”

With effort, Twilight glanced over to where Apple Bloom stood.

“Well, I did ‘bout think you was dyin’,” the younger girl allowed a little uncomfortably. “That, or in labor. Either way, glad t’see yer okay.”

Twilight gave her a weak smile. “So far.”

Rainbow Dash winced, but said nothing.

Apple Bloom looked around herself. The unfinished basement had been empty when they’d first moved in, of course. But Twilight had fixed that as soon as Pinkie’d left.

First, of course, there was the impromptu gym that Twilight’d had Dash set up. Kettle bells, free weights, a treadmill, floor mats... plus sparring pads, weighted batons, and a couple a’ kick pads. Apparently Dash had called her wife up, gotten advice about the sparrin’ gear. All told, about half the space was taken up by exercise equipment.

But then there was the other half, where the lab was. Tables, bottles, glass and plastic coils and whatnot... some of it familiar, some not. Twilight had sent Dash off with a list, a long one, of different chemicals and stuff, and it all played into the mix somehow.

Apple Bloom had always been a little proud of her tutelage under Zecora. She’d learned more from her in a year than she’d learned in a lifetime of regular schoolin’, and that was a fact. But what Twilight had put together, well, that was well beyond her.

Twi had tried to explain it to her and Dash, and Apple Bloom had thought it mighta been something like synthetic steroids, maybe? But she’d never heard of steroids working like this.

Because, god damn.

Four days.

Four days of injections, weird drinks, and eating enough for three people – plus sleeping up to twenty hours a day, anytime she wasn’t working out – and here Twilight was. Pushups, situps, squats (with Rainbow spotting), walking on the treadmill (hanging onto the bars for dear life, with Rainbow Dash half supporting her weight), you name it.

No sparring, though. Not yet. But any fool knew that was coming.

Of course, it wasn’t all inspiring. There were the muscle cramps, for instance. Sometimes Twilight would wake up screaming from them. And the first day, it seemed like she was throwin’ up more than she was keeping down.

But most of all there was that one time, looked like maybe a seizure? It had only happened once that she knew of, while Twilight was on the treadmill. Rainbow Dash had caught her, and she and Apple Bloom had exchanged terrified looks over the gal for nigh onto twenty minutes while she’d writhed and bucked, both of them just trying to keep her from smacking her head into anything.

Whatever that stuff was that Twi kept takin’, it got results, no lie. Apple Bloom just wasn’t sure they were the kind of results a body wanted.

“C’mon, Twilight,” Rainbow Dash said gently as she started to gather her up. “Back to bed, I think.”

“I can walk.”

Rainbow Dash shook her head. “Nuh-uh. I’m using my Trainer’s Veto. You hurt yourself, you get carried. You don’t like it, stop hurting yourself.”

“Fascist bitch,” Twilight smiled, her head lolling slightly as Rainbow ascended the stairs with her.

Rainbow Dash gave her a grin. “And you.”

Twilight’s bedroom was the one the women had first shared after their harried arrival. The only difference was a small pile of water bottles by the bed – all empty – a big ol’ box half-full of protein bars, and cardboard taped over the window blinds, keeping out even the smallest amount of daylight.

By the time Rainbow Dash was lowering her back into her bed, Twilight was already asleep. Rainbow and Apple Bloom gently tucked her in, refilled the empty bottles, and then closed the door behind them.

Rainbow Dash sighed, ran a sky-coloured hand through her hair.

“You okay?” Apple Bloom asked.

“Yeah, peachy,” Rainbow said with another sigh, and the two of them headed downstairs to the kitchen.

“Yeah, that sure was the ‘everythin’s fine’ kinda sigh I was hopin’ for,” Apple Bloom nodded sagely. “Yes, ma’am. Sure took a load offa my mind.”

Rainbow Dash tried to give her an angry look and failed, her expression fading into one of pure misery.

“Yeah, okay,” she said. “It’s just... that stuff she’s taking.”

“Do ya know what it is?” Apple Bloom asked softly.

“Not really,” Rainbow Dash said, “Twilight had me burn the list. Zecora might recognize the stuff that was on it, or she might not. I don’t know how much chemistry you gotta know to be a pharmacist. But Twi didn’t have me just burgle a pharmacy. She had me hit a couple of compounding places and a chemical plant, so... I dunno.”

She shrugged and continued, “Anyway, I asked Twi about it, when she first started dosing. I figured, y’know, if it was helping her it might help me.”

Apple Bloom could well imagine the scene. Twilight, happily geeking out while she mixed different compounds together... meanwhile, unseen by her, Rainbow Dash’s head slowly rising up from behind the counter almost cartoonishly, eyes locked on the glass beaker everything was getting dumped into...

But outwardly, Apple Bloom nodded. “Well, sure. You were kept in a, what, ten by ten?”

Rainbow Dash stopped, looking away.

“Maybe smaller,” she said. “I don’t know. I mean, sure, I still exercised. But there are limits. So, when Twi isn’t working out, I am.”

Then she was walking again, opening the door to the kitchen.

“But when I said that, Twilight got on my ass like... fuck, I don’t even know,” she said, shaking her head. “I mean, she was pissed. Or maybe just scared, or maybe both. I hadn’t seen her like that since... you know what, never mind,” she concluded. “The point is, she made me promise that I would never, ever get into the stuff, no matter what.”

“How come?” Apple Bloom asked, fetching down plates and glasses.

Rainbow Dash opened the freezer, contemplated the possibilities. She grabbed two bags of microwavable chicken nuggets, closed the door... then just dropped them with a sigh, turning away from her friend, leaning her hands on the wall and the fridge, her head hanging low.

Apple Bloom frowned and took a step towards her, her voice uncertain.

“Rainbow Dash?”

“I don’t know what it is or how it works, but Twilight says it’s taking years off her life. Like, a decade or more.”

“What?!?”

“Yeah,” Rainbow said miserably. “Something about ‘systemic cellular strain’ on her organs and stuff.”

Then, facing Apple Bloom for a moment, she added, “And that’s assuming she doesn’t just die of a heart attack or a stroke right there on the basement floor.”

Then she turned away completely, her voice the barest whisper.

“And then... then it’ll be my fault.”

“But... but we gotta stop her! We...” Apple Bloom’s voice fell away as Rainbow Dash slowly turned to face her again, eyes filled with pain.

“We could,” Rainbow Dash said. “It’d be easy. We could refuse to help her with it, keep her out of the basement. Keep her from plotting out her own recovery. Make her physical therapy last the years that it should, instead of weeks or less.

“Of course, then she’d be our prisoner, not our friend,” she said, looking down. “And when the cops – or anybody else – found her, and had her dead to rights, it would be our fault. Ours, and ours alone.

“And so would whatever followed.”

She raised her eyes again to meet Apple Bloom’s stricken ones.

“Or, we can recognize that it’s better to die years from now than tomorrow, and more than that, that it’s her choice.”

Suddenly, Apple Bloom had crossed the room and was holding Rainbow Dash in a fierce embrace. After the briefest of surprised pauses, Rainbow was hugging her back.

“An’ you’ve been jus’ sittin’ on this?” Apple Bloom demanded. “Fer days? Watchin’ her, helpin’ her train, knowin’...”

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess.”

“An’ it ain’t your fault!”Apple Bloom insisted, squeezing her harder. “Y’all just said it yourself, it’s her choice! What’re you supposed t’do, tie her down?”

Rainbow Dash gave a long, jagged sigh.

“I don’t know,” she said miserably. “There’s no good answer, just lots of bad ones. And I do want to help her, she’s my fucking friend, but...”

“But it ain’t fair,” Apple Bloom supplied. “She ain’t just askin’ you to watch, she’s askin’ you to help her maybe kill herself. An’ it ain’t fair.”

“But she can’t do it alone,” Rainbow whispered.

“An’ she’s gotta do it.”

“Yeah. And I have to help her.”

For several minutes, the two women simply stood there, holding each other. Eventually, Apple Bloom spoke.

“You shouldn’t a’ had to carry that yourself,” she said into Rainbow Dash’s hair. Somehow, her voice was both tender and stern. “You didn’t have to. An’ you don’t. Cuz you ain’t alone, now, Rainbow Dash. Not no more. An’ you need to remember that.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Cuz I’m gonna be in this with you, from now on. Every step of the way. You hear me?”

“Yeah, I hear you. I guess... I guess I was still kinda thinking of you as a kid.”

Pulling back, Rainbow Dash gently smoothed the younger woman’s hair out of her eyes. “And that wasn’t right. Sorry about that.”

For a what seemed like a long time, their eyes met. The words hovered on the edge of Apple Bloom’s mind as the long moment stretched between them, Please don’t think of me as a kid, Rainbow, please...

Then, Rainbow Dash turned her eyes away, beautiful shades of amaranth and vermillion, and Apple Bloom did likewise.

“Sorry about that,” Rainbow Dash said again.

“Don’t sweat it,” Apple Bloom said, picking up the bags. “High stress, folks gettin’ close, stuff is gonna happen.”

She walked over to the plates, opened the bags, dumped their contents. Arranged the nuggets on the plates, giving her hands something to do.

“An’ I do love you,” she sighed, opening the microwave. “I love all a’you. An’ I can’t speak for you, but me... it’d be dead easy, lettin’ bad times rush me into a bad decision.”

Rainbow Dash watched the younger woman as she cooked, arms crossed, leaning on the far wall.

“So, we just had a moment, and that’s it,” she said. “You’re cool with that?”

The first plate went into the microwave to be zapped.

“Yup. Long as you are.”

Rainbow Dash gave a wry grin. “You know, maturity’s pretty attractive. You’re not exactly killing the mood, here.”

Apple Bloom turned back to her, gave her a smile that was full of mischief.

“Not tryin’ to.”

She laughed while Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes.

“But seriously,” Apple Bloom went on, “I figger, once everythin’s said an’ done, an’ we’re not runnin’ a revolution an’ whatnot, maybe the three of us kin sit down an’ talk about it then. But only if you an’ me still feel the same, an’ only if Rarity’s agreeable.”

She held out a fist, adding, “Till then, whaddaya say? Best buds?”

Still grinning, Rainbow Dash pushed herself off the wall and bumped Apple Bloom’s fist with her own.

“Best Buds.”

Author's Note

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Ending Credits: True Colors, by Cindi Lauper.