Iota Force Issue #2: A Hair Out of Placeby The Iguana ManChaptersChapter 2: Parties and AfterpartiesChapter 3: Expertise and Its DownsidesChapter 4: Finding the Root of the ProblemChapter 5: Bad IdeasChapter 6: Finding KryptoniteChapter 7: The BlowoutEpilogue: Rinsing out the tasteChapter 1: A Proper Welcome to PonyvilleNext Time on Iota Force...Chapter 2: Parties and Afterparties“Hair? Like... mane hair?” asked Pip. “Mm-hm!” Replied Icy, who was the only one showing much surprise at the weirdness she was describing. It was the following day, around noon, and most of the group had gathered again in Pip's basement. Alula, Lance, Pip and Archer had listened to Icy and Truffle recount the previous night's encounter, staying quiet until they had finished, clearly thinking about what this could mean. “So, we have a filly with a prehensile mane who, from what you're saying, seems... less than entirely sane.” Alula said after a moment. “Does that sound familiar to anyone else?” “You're not suggesting...?” Archer trailed off with a dismissive shake of her head. “I mean, yeah, sounds like the Mane-iac but...” Lance raised his hoof to his eyes, then to just in front of the top of his head. “Exactly,” Archer continued, having paused while Lance moved, “Mane-iac's an adult, she'd probably have larger plans that robbing a café in Ponyville and, let's not forget, she doesn't exist!” The last statement was said with a slight forcefulness that was, Icy had learned, the closest Archer got to shouting. Alula nodded, face as impassive as it had been throughout the conversation. “Yes. Not impossible that it's her, but improbable. She's probably a copycat, but how did she gain those abilities?” “Well, couldn't see a horn on her,” Truffle said, “and I couldn't feel any magic around the hair, could you Ic- Are you alright there, Icy? Icy shook her head, realizing she'd let a bit of distaste enter her expression. She smiled apologetically. “Sorry, yeah, I'm fine. Anyway, what do we...” “'Sup!” Scootaloo's voice came from the opening door. “Sorry I'm late, guys, swung by Haute's place to see the damage. Shoulda seen the guy, he was going ballistic.” She chuckled as she came up to the table. “Was it that bad?” Icy asked, puzzled, “It didn't seem that bad.” “That's why he was screaming.” Scootaloo smirked. “Said he should be open, but the police wouldn't let him.” “Why is that?” Asked Alula. “Cause, you know, crime scene, had to cordon off-?” “No,” Alula interrupted bluntly, “why did he think he should open after a break-in?” “Oh, right,” Scootaloo winced briefly, “Forgot to say – the only thing stolen was two of their ovens.” She held up a hoof, forestalling any interjections, “Not one of the big ones, one of those with the... you know, the big light bulb.” “Halogen?” Alula guessed. “Yeah, that's the one. Anyway, what do we know?” As the others explained what she and Truffle had seen, Icy was thinking about what she'd just learned. A halogen oven... a big, super-hot bulb plus lenses... Bright light focused by lenses... it wasn't enough to bring up, sounded too implausible, even by their standards, but it could just be possible. She tried to dismiss it, but one word kept bugging her: Laser. Speaking of something bright being focussed into a burning intensity, Pinkie's party was that evening. To the average citizen of Ponyville, it was standard – a wonderful time, but no more than any of her parties. That was not an insult, by any means – each one was a unique and marvellous experience, but ranking them up against each other was difficult. After all, few besides Pinkie had ever quite grasped the difference between “Superiffic” and “Supertastic”, much to her exasperation. Or the closest she ever got to it, at least. To Pinkie, it was a rousing success, definitely a 14.834 on the Merriometer (no one had ever dared ask how she calculated this or what it was out of). She'd had a whole week to prepare, and could honestly say that it was thoroughly superiffitastimazingificent. Give or take. However, both the citizens and Pinkie were used to her normal level of party. Icy was not. As such, she was standing in the sidelines, so to speak, trying to recover her energy (and, initially, her breath) after her last foray into the epicenter. She looked to her mom, enjoying the attention, telling stories of some of the things she'd done and places she'd been. She was in her element, but not Icy's. Icy was enjoying herself, to an extent, it was just tiring. Of course, her recovery would have been easier had it not been for the filly flitting around her and talking so continually that Icy wondered if she had some Pie in her family tree. “...always make sure to come to Pinkie's parties when we're in town and this punch is amazing!” The filly – Zippo-something, as far as Icy could make out – moved thoughts without breaking flow. “Yeah, I... guess it is.” Was all Icy could think to say. She wasn't annoyed, as such, just a bit lost and floundering. “Um, do you think you coul-” “Twitchy Tail!” The entire party suddenly ground to a halt – music, conversation, everything. Icy tensed up – she'd recognized Pinkie's voice, but didn't know what it meant. She started looking for whatever was wrong, whipping her head round... CLONK! Right into the head of another filly, who'd been carrying a tray of candies in her mouth. “That's weird,” Pinkie's voice came from within the throng, “I don't have one for walking into ponies. Usually a twitchy tail means something fal-” CLANG! The tray, thrown up from the impact, landed on Icy's head. “Oh, there it is! Okay, everyone resume partying!” Everyone resumed partying. “Oh my goodneth, I'm tho thorry!” Twist picked up her fallen glasses and put them back on. “Oh, It'th you, Ithy. I’m really thorry, I...” She said, sniffling slightly. Icy quickly smiled at her. “It's okay, don't worry about it, no harm done!” She said truthfully - there probably wouldn’t even be a bruise and she could hardly blame Twist for the collision. “It's alright.” “No, it'th not!” Twist blurted out before shrinking back. “Thorry, it'th jutht... I don't know what'th wrong with me lately” She trailed off before looking at the floor. “And now I've ruined a whole tray of lemon dropth.” Icy's ears perked up unbidden. How Pinkie had known that lemon drops were her favourite sweets, she neither could nor wanted to know. She forced her ears down, though – she had no idea why Twist was this overwrought, but she couldn't help but want to comfort her. Plus, there were lemon drops on the line. She put her hoof on Twist's shoulder. “Tell you what, let's clean these up and then I'll help you make some more. Maybe we can get Truffle to help.” The corner of Twist’s lip twitched upward for a moment at the mention of Truffle - something Icy thought might happen, even if she wasn’t sure why. Twist put her hoof behind her glasses to wipe away the beginnings of tears. “R-really? No, that'th okay. Thith ith your party, you know.” Icy glanced aside at the massive crowd. “I'll... I think I'll be okay.” Together, they gathered up the scattered candies and took them to the nearest bin – back behind the storefront next to the stairs. Icy put her hoof down on the pedal, opening it up. She was about to drop the drops in before she noticed something. “Pinkie?” She called out. “Yeppers?” Barely phased at this point by Pinkie’s instant appearance, Icy pointed inside the bin. “What’s that red powder?” Sure enough, a small amount of that same red powder was sitting in there. Not much, but enough to recognize. “Dunno!” Pinkie chirped. “I came down last night for a twenty-three-to-midnight snack and stepped on something long and squishy. I couldn't see what it was - at first I thought it was one of Gummy's friends, but when I looked down, it was gone, and that powder was there. So, I picked it up, smelled it, tasted it, it wasn't nice, it tasted like...” Icy had stopped listening. Twenty-three to... Eleven Thirty-Seven. That was before her encounter with the robber. Nothing here had been stolen... and she did say she'd have to cut that night short... maybe she was scoping this place out before she... “Pinkie?” She asked slowly. “...an acceleration of around two hundred and forty metres per second per second... yes?” “This may sound strange, but... Do you think me and... some friends could help you clean up and maybe... stay the night?” Icy sighed as the clock struck midnight. “You know, I kinda didn't think a stakeout would be this, well...” “Boring?” Archer suggested. The two of them, along with Truffle and Lance were sitting on the stairs to Sugarcube Corner's second floor, peeking over the bannister and keeping an eye on the storefront. Dinky and Scootaloo had had to go home and Alula said she preferred to stay hidden from their enemies as long as she could. Icy shifted her haunch, the stair she was sitting on horizontally not being the most comfortable seat she'd ever had. “Well, yeah. I mean, don't ponies on stakeouts usually play cards or have snacks or...” She tailed off, realizing how much she sounded like a naïve fantasist. Truffle chuckled. “Sometimes, but we're not in a great position for that kind of thing, I fear. Of course, I'm positive Mr and Mrs Cake predicted the need for comfortable stakeouts when they designed their bakery, but...” “Okay, okay, sorry.” Icy interrupted. The sarcasm hadn't been malicious, but she still felt awkward because of it. “Plus,” Truffle continued, “I don’t think they’d appreciate us eating their snacks without paying. Of course, if we could… oh my!” Icy looked up the stairs to see him patting his belly, a dreamy look on his face. Of course, she’d had to strain her neck a little - because Truffle and Lance’s suits were so bright, they were high up on the staircase, past the ceiling of the ground floor so that no one could see them from outside. It was dark enough that they probably wouldn’t, but it was better not to take that chance. It helped that Icy’s pale coat and Archer’s dark-blue ensemble would blend in more, so they could be lower down. A thought occurred to Icy. “Hey, Truffle, Lance? Why are your suits so brightly coloured anyway? They do kind of stick out.” “Well, of course. That’s the point.” Truffle replied. “On a mission requiring stealth, like this one, it’s not ideal, but we’ve already seen that this filly has enough power that it’s better to have the protection. And if it does come down to a fight, then we’ll be the ones on the front lines. We want as much of the enemy’s attention on us as possible. Icy nodded. “Oh, I get it. Is that why Lance wears his fancy hat and scarf as well? She looked up to see slight movement behind Lance’s mask in the eyebrow area. He shook his head firmly, not seeming to like the implication. Icy frowned in confusion. “So, then… why do you wear them?” Lance looked to the side for a moment in thought before turning back to Icy and tapping his chest, asking her to try and punch him. Shrugging, Icy trotted up the stairs, pulled her hoof back and went to strike him - not too hard, but enough to notice through his padding. In a flurry of motion, Lance whipped his hat off his head and, holding it by the feather, put it between him and Icy. Despite seeming like an ordinary, floppy hat a second ago, Icy felt as if she’d just punched an iron plate. The hat’s fabric deformed slightly under her strike, but didn’t bend back. Before Icy had time to process this, Lance pulled off his scarf and, picking up Icy’s other front hoof, tied them together in a split second. Icy tugged at her bonds, falling onto her chest as she did so, but it felt like the scarf’s materials were far stronger than they looked. Icy blinked, nonplussed. “Well... that answers that, I guess.” Lance nodded firmly before freeing Icy’s hooves and re-donning his hat and scarf. Icy trotted back down to sit next to Archer, eyes still a little wide at what had just happened. “By the way,” Archer whispered, making sure Lance couldn’t hear her, "making ‘em look like something out of a Flyin Arrow film was my idea. Thought it’d be fun.” Icy exhaled in relief - now things made… a little more sense. After a minute or so, she exhaled longer. “And now I’m bored again.” “We could always play I Spy again.” Archer suggested, smirking. Icy rolled her eyes. There was no shortage of variety for the game, so it wasn't as boring as its reputation suggested. The problem was that, when your opponent is sharp-eyed enough to unerringly follow your eyeline and guess before you'd given the clue, it rather took the fun out of the game. Still, Archer's observational skills did come in handy, as she straightened up and looked out at the storefront. “Hold it!” she whispered. “We've got incoming.” The others all looked out at the front window, Lance and Truffle slowly poking their heads beneath the ceiling. A filly-sized silhouette hovered in front of the glass for a few seconds before backing up. Then, a cut started appearing in the glass, making a large circle, seemingly of its own volition. “What's...” Icy began. “A hair.” Archer replied – even she was squinting in order to see it. “A single hair.” Looking again, Icy could just make out one strand of hair, apparently thin and strong enough to act as a glass cutter. Soon, the circle was complete, and a few more hairs slipped through the cracks. However, they didn’t seem like they’d be enough to lift the circle out of the window. “So,” Icy muttered to herself, “if that's what she does, where does all that brok-” Without warning, more hairs started slicing the cut-out circle of glass, dividing it into smaller pieces that fell into the mass of hair. Many fell further, slipping through the gaps and breaking on the floor, on both sides of the window, but many others were caught and deposited carefully on the ground. In a few seconds, all the glass had been deposited on the ground in one way or another and the way through the window was clear, the figure floating through with an off-key chuckle. “Well, that answers that.” Icy mumbled. The figure floated over the counter and disappeared into the bakery's kitchen. The four on the stairs looked to each other, nodded and snuck after her, taking care not to make any noise (Not an easy feat for a colt in full fencing gear and another who was, in his own words, tremendously fat). As they reached the kitchen, they saw the figure ransacking the cupboards. It seemed she was looking for something specific, although what she hoped to find in a bakery, Icy couldn't imagine. The other three straightened up, Archer and Lance drawing their weapons and Truffle rolling his joints, ready for a fight. Icy decided it'd be best to do the same, though how, she wasn't sure. After a second, she settled for flaring her wings and preparing to gather her energy, however that worked. Without verbal warning, Lance reached over and flicked the lights on, not taking his sword away from pointing at the figure. With the lights on, they could see their opponent. At first, they just saw a wall of green hair before the filly's body was spun round to face them, confirming what they suspected. From the purple-and-gold bodysuit to the light purple coat to the insane grin, the filly was the image of the Mane-iac but for her age and her eyes, and the latter was only because of her goggles making them look slightly bigger. She floated up higher, looking down at her opponents. “You again?!” she exclaimed. “And more of you? You dare tangle with the Mane-iac?” Archer looked her over. “Miniac, more like. And yes, yes we do.” The costumed filly looked down over her form. “Whatever you want to call me... Utterly irrelevant.” Her speech seemed far smoother than it had the previous night, but she still occasionally halted before speaking. “After all, you'll be out of my mane in only a moment.” Without warning, tendrils of hair surged forward at the group. They scattered out of the way, but the kitchen, big as it was, didn't leave them much room to manoeuvre. Only Lance remained untouched, slashing off any hair that came near him. As more came towards him, he grabbed his scarf and threw it up like a whip. The scarf stretched as he did so and wrapped around the room’s light socket. Lance then darted off to the side and, keeping hold of the taut scarf, slowly ran up onto the wall. He circled around the room before getting high enough to leap on top of a high cupboard, crouching and preparing to defend his position. Icy fared less impressively - she managed to freeze a few tendrils, but she wasn't as experienced as the others and quickly got swamped, her wings immobilized and unable to create more freezing winds. The other two did slightly better. Archer dodged around and managed to remain free enough to fire some shots, but this Miniac was prepared, coils of hair smashing the arrows mid-flight. As for Truffle... “BANZAI!” The overweight colt had climbed onto a tabletop and, with the agility of someone half his size, leapt straight at the villain, apparently reasoning that he would be too heavy for her hair to deflect. Unfortunately, the large sack she picked up with it was a bit sturdier. She swung with it, connecting and knocking him back like a baseball. A cloud of sugar was kicked up as the sack burst on impact and the thick tendril holding it was knocked back just as hard, throwing the filly off balance and letting the pressure of her grip loosen a little around Icy. As Truffle got up and the others dodged and struggled, the wall of hair picked up several more sacks before charging out into the storefront, its body in tow. “Hold it!” Archer called out, leaping from the kitchen and nocking another arrow “Don't you get it?! You're mere children!” The Mini-Mane-iac sneered, not seeming to notice the hypocrisy. “You don't have a chance! You are but dandruff before me! You-” The lights in the bakery’s storefront clicked on, revealing Pinkie Pie at the top of the stairs. Furthermore, now that the filly had paused, they could hear sirens, distant but getting closer. “...have got me monologuing.” She finished - blaming her opponents for her own grandiosity seemed instinctive. “Very good. Bordering on clever. But unfortunately for you...” Her hair retreated, unlocking the door and rushing through it with the big sacks of sugar that were apparently her goal. “...I'm hair today, gone tomorroooooooow.” With that, her body was pulled through the door and up to the rooftops at immense speed, to be long gone by the time anyone could reach her. The group sat there, pondering what had just happened as Pinkie descended the stairs and joined them. “What a weird filly.” She said with no irony whatsoever. “I mean, wow, who'd have thought the Mane-ia-.” “Not necessarily.” Archer interrupted smoothly. “She's got the look and the power, but there are a couple of things she missed. It's... probably a copycat.” “Nopey-dopey!” Pinkie shook her head. “That's the Mane-iac, alright. I'd recognise that voice anywhere. I mean, it wasn't a filly's voice last time I heard it, and now that I think of it, she wasn't a filly at all, but other than that... yeah, the voice, the tone, the cadence, all the same.” Icy wasn't sure what Princess Cadance had to do with it, but still listened. “How do you... I mean, she's a comic book character, how could you hear her?” Pinkie smiled as a policepony poked his head round the door, switching off the siren on his back. “Maybe you should talk to the local expert on the Power Ponies.” She said, smiling in what she must have thought was a mysterious way. Author's Note So, time to go on about a pet peeve of mine, so feel free to skip this: it always bugs me a little when you have ponies that are meant to represent or reference real people (or, for that matter, people from other fictional works) and their names are just that person's real name with a pony pun in it. Oh, don't get me wrong, it can work if one is clever with it* - heck, I've used them myself a few times. But, even when they are amusing and don't stick out too much, they do kind of break the rules of the world. We know how pony names are supposed to be constructed - an ordinary word or two, usually a noun, noun phrase or including a noun and usually in some way connected or alluding to that pony's abilities, personality or background. Names like Svengallop or, to use an example I've done, Isaac Neighton... do not fit with this. I get what it's going for, but for me, it always feels more cohesive with the world, as well as more interesting, to take their name and try to turn it into a name that an ordinary pony might have. So, to use the one in this chapter for an example, while Barrel Flynn or Errol Whinny might have been a little more clear, I think Flyin Arrow works because it sounds both like the real name and like a pony name. Of course, you may disagree with me completely, but that's how I feel. And rest assured, these diatribes aren't going to be a regular feature of these stories' author's notes - just figured this one was kind of relevant. *even if the ones the show does are something a little odd - JK Rowling? Seriously? Yes, she's a writer that kids might know, but that's about the only thing she has in common with Daring Chapter 3: Expertise and Its Downsides“The castle...” Icy muttered to herself, still in awe. The giant crystal structure was a constant sight in Ponyville, its tips viewable from nearly anywhere in Town. Icy had passed it a number of times since she'd moved here. And, sure, she'd assumed she was probably going to go inside at some point, probably for a school trip or something, but so soon? And on “Official Business” to boot? She couldn't have expected that. As such, she was practically skipping down the street in excitement. Neither of her companions seemed to notice, of course – Scootaloo was busy moaning about how slow they were going, her wings buzzing intermittently and making her scooter leap forward sporadically – apparently slowness wasn't easy for her – and Alula? Well, she probably did notice Icy, but since her expression was as blank as ever, it was hard to tell. Icy looked up, seeing the castle nearing. To be honest, she didn't know why the Princess would know that much about the Power Ponies. I mean, yeah, she was a princess and a librarian, so she probably knew everything about everything anyway, but Icy had assumed she'd have better things to worry about. She looked up at the town clock tower. It was about 4:30, the time Pinkie had told them to arrive. For some reason, the boisterous mare had been tight-lipped about the meeting after Icy had mentioned meeting the princess, only giggling a little and sending them on their way. Icy didn't understand it, but since that seemed to apply to ninety percent of everything Pinkie said or did, it didn't bother her. As they neared the door, Icy scampered ahead of Scootaloo (a rare occurrence in itself) and gave a sharp knock on the door, hearing it echo around the crystalline structure. Of course, with as big as it was, it'd probably be a while before anyone... “Hello? Oh, hey there!” Icy shook her head and looked up at the pony had opened the door, only to find either someone invisible or no one. Confused, she looked down, only to be startled to find someone at her eye level. She was further surprised as she looked at him to find he was a small dragon. She blinked hard, resisting the urge to facehoof. Right, of course, her pet dragon. She'd seen him a couple of times accompanying the Princess on... Princess-stuff, she assumed, but hadn't paid him much mind. In fact, as she was rapidly realizing, she didn't even know his name. “Hey, Spike!” Scootaloo greeted him, saving Icy from the terrifying spectre of social awkwardness. She finished chaining up her scooter and joined her in front of the door “You got a moment?” “Sure, c'mon in.” Spike stood aside, holding the door open as the three fillies entered. He led them down a hallway and Icy had to stop herself from gaping at the crystal walls, else she might have lost them in the palace's corridors. “Good thing you came when you did – I've just started my break and I was afraid Twi'd call me back any minute. But now I got an excuse to take as long as I like.” Spike continued with a chuckle. Icy was about to point out that Pinkie had suggested when to come before what Spike said registered. “Wait, you've been working for her?” She asked. “On a Sunday?” “Pft, yeah,” Spike waved a hand dismissively as he opened a door with the other, “as if I'd let Twi reorganize the fiction section on her own.” He paused before muttering darkly. “Again.” Icy was about to ask about that when she realized they'd stopped. She looked around at the room they'd come to, which appeared to be... a bedroom. With a small wardrobe, a bed with a small lump under the covers and a bookcase full of comics. The sort of room she could appreciate, she had to admit, but... “Where's the Princess?” She asked. “The Library.” Spike, Scootaloo and Alula answered in unison. Spike continued, apparently not thinking the question odd. “So, what's up?” Icy was about to say something else when Alula pre-empted her. “Well, you're something of an expert on the Power Ponies, correct?” Oh. He's the expert. Icy tried not to let her expression wilt. She didn't do a very good job of it. Not that anyone seemed to notice. Scootaloo and Alula were facing away from her and Spike... well, the smile on his face and his starry eyes seemed to indicate he wasn't paying much attention to her at that point. “Well, I dunno about “expert”, but I've got so many issues... did you want to borrow the latest issue? It's really, cool, see the Mad Thespian's got this device that...” Icy tried. She really tried to contain it. But, as Spike's recounting of the story accelerated, a tiny sound escaped her mouth. Tsk. She paused, only then realizing she was in the middle of rolling her eyes, to notice everyone now staring at her. “...sorry.” She said, hoping they wouldn't linger on her reaction. No such luck. “It's quite alright – do you have a problem, Icy?” Alula asked, oblivious to Icy's silent pleas to drop the subject. “No, no, no problem.” Icy replied, a brittle smile on her face. Spike giggled. “It's fine, I know comics aren't for everyone...” “No, that's not it, I love comics!” Icy interrupted, her enthusiasm for the subject giving her enough energy to speak and enough momentum not to stop before saying: “I just never liked the Power Ponies. They always seemed kinda lame.” Spike couldn't have looked more shocked if she'd slapped him in the face with his rarest issue. “Lame? How... How could you... how are they lame?” Icy continued, unaware of how rapidly Spike's face was falling. “Well, I mean, not all of them – there've been some good stories and I kinda like Marevolous, but, like... So Zapp's got weather control and Radiance has got constructs? Well, wow, get a few pegasi or a decently trained unicorn and they can show you those “Powers”. And Matterhorn? She's got energy blasts, but that's it – when you think about it, she's less powerful than some unicorns. Or at least less versatile” Spike's face had, at this point, gone past horror and was now shifting into anger. “What about Filly Second and Saddle Rager? They've got cool powers!” “Yeah, when the writers let them use them!” Icy answered obliviously. “I mean, yeah, there's some interesting stuff you could do with them, sure, but every story, they have to come up with some reason why Filly Second can't just super speed the baddie away or Rager can't just thump them into...” “That's a bunch of horseapples!” Spike interrupted. Icy flinched back, flashed back to the stuff she'd read about dragons and suddenly remembered that, baby or not, she was still talking to a clawed, fire-breathing reptile who could bathe in molten lava. “So the writers like to be creative and don't want every villain to be taken down easily, so what? It's still one of the best comics out there!” Icy's fear was then forgotten as quickly as it had come – no way was she going to let that one slide. “No, it isn't! What about...” Fifty minutes later... “...and his son from another bad future... how can you keep track of all that continuity?” “It's not that bad. I mean, if you look at Lane Moor's run on it...” “Oh, geez!” “What? You got a problem with Lane Moor?” “Nah, it's just people always bring him up. Well, him and a few others – Nail Game, Warren Ales, Art Spigot – as if they're the only ones who write comics worth reading.” “Okay, guess so, but what about Waymark or Cut Brick or...” “SHUUUUUUUUUT UUUUUUUUP!” Icy and Spike turn their heads, their ears (Or side-head-spines in Spike's case) nearly brushing against each other after how in-each-other's-faces they were. To the side, they saw Scootaloo, her head hanging upside-down from the bed, looking bored out of her wits. Her hooves idly played with a white plushie that had presumably been under the covers. To her side, Alula was curled up, her eyes staring, unblinking. It took Icy a moment to realize that those weren't eyes, they were here eyelids shape-shifted to look like open eyes. Scootaloo huffed, bringing attention back to her. “You guys have been arguing for, like, hours or something! Can't you just give it a rest?” Icy and Spike backed away from each other a step. Each pointed a hoof or claw at the other. “But he said...” “But she said...” “I don't care!” Scootaloo yelled. “We came here for a reason, you know, and I dunno about you, but I don't wanna be here all day while you argue about nerdstuff, got it?” Icy and Spike's collective anger at the slur against comics died on their tongue as they looked at each other out of the corner of their eyes, realizing just what they'd been doing and how long they'd been doing it. They turned to each other again. “I'm sorry!” They said in unison before realizing they had and letting out a similarly-unified giggle. “Sorry about that,” Spike began, rubbing his arm awkwardly, “I just get a bit...” “No, it's fine,” Icy replied, looking away with her front hooves crossed. “I shouldn't have got so...” “Yeah, great, he's sorry, she's sorry, I'm sorry I had to listen to that, everyone's sorry!” Scootaloo interjected sharply. “Now can we please get on with what we came here to do?” Icy turned to Scootaloo, nodding. “Yeah, I guess we should...” she stopped as she noticed Alula again. “Didn't she wake up when you were shouting?” Scootaloo smirked. “Nah, Alula could sleep through a tornado. I mean, I'm pretty sure she has. But watch this!” Grinning evilly, Scootaloo slowly extended a hoof to Alula's sleeping body. When it was a couple of centimeters away from her coat, Scootaloo suddenly pressed it firmly into Alula's stomach. “Boop!” The effect was immediate – Alula's faux-eyes snapped up to reveal her real eyes (a sight that was not as disturbing as Icy felt it should have been) and she leapt a good three feet into the air, before landing on the footboard of the bed. Her body was angled away from the offending hoof, fur on end like a cat on the edge of a bathtub. After a moment of no threats becoming obvious, Alula relaxed slightly. She looked down, seeing Icy's surprise, Spike's snickering and an expression on Scootaloo's face so innocent you could practically see the halo. Alula's eyes narrowed. “You saw nothing.” “...and then Fluttershy was all like “RARGH, Fluttershy smash!” and took out the...” Icy smiled as she listened to Spike's recounting of events. Even if she didn't share his opinions, it was kind of fun to see just how excited he'd get about it. The story itself, on the other hand, she was a bit iffy on. After they told him who they had encountered, he'd starting telling them a story about him and his friends being sucked into a comic book and meeting the Mane-iac. Normally, she'd have dismissed it instantly as just an overactive imagination talking. Heck, if Pinkie had been the one to say it, she'd probably barely even listen. This may have been the reason she'd sent them to Spike. On the other hand, it did explain an awful lot. And Pinkie had sounded pretty certain that it was the same pony. Which, given what Icy had seen of her so far, might not have meant anything, but the others had assured her Pinkie wasn't that kind of crazy. Furthermore, looking over the comics Spike had foisted upon them, the similarities were uncanny. Other than the obvious age difference and some slight variation in the costume, such as the addition of goggles, the character on the page was nearly identical to filly they'd seen the previous night. The coat was precisely the same shade of purple, the mane the same green, the face the same shape, the expression the same demented glee. Even the way her hair moved and fought from panel to panel seemed the same. Overall, if you ripped the character off the page, made her 3d and shrunk her down to a filly... well, Spike would probably be mad you'd ripped up his comic and you would get the pony they'd fought. It was far too uncannily similar to be a mere copycat. As unbelievable as it was, it seemed that they really were dealing with the comic book character come to life. Which should have been impossible, but then, Icy was talking to a two foot tall dragon, so who was she to judge? “So,” Alula's voice broke Icy out of her thoughts, “we appear to have the real Mane-iac on our hooves here.” “Miniac!” Scootaloo corrected, having taken a liking to Archer's nickname. “She's the Miniac!” She was still pouting – she'd been offended when she was told that Rainbow Dash wasn't Filly Second in the comic universe. She'd been mollified somewhat by the suggestion that maybe whoever decided the roles couldn't make her any faster than she already was, but it still seemed to bug her. Alula nodded. “Very well, that would seem to be a useful way to distinguish this version. My point remains – it's definitely her.” “I don't see why not.” Spike said. “I mean, if there's an enchanted comic that can suck ponies in, why couldn't there be one that lets characters out?” “Wait,” Icy spoke up, having kept quiet for the most part (partially for fear of starting another argument), “you said a guy sold you an enchanted comic?” “Yep!” Spike nodded. “Isn't that, like,... illegal?” Icy asked. “Nope!” “...” “...” “...Okay then.” “If she did come out of a comic book,” Spike continued after the awkward pause, “it was probably one of his, come to think of it. I mean, I don't think he'd sell one that's dangerous, but maybe it... escaped or something.” “Comic books can't escape, Spike.” Alula pointed out, frowning slightly. Spike shrugged. “Neither can comic book characters.” Alula sighed. “Point.” “If you want, I can ask him – I'm going up to Canterlot on Tuesday with Twi, and I was going to stop by anyway to get my monthly pull.” He stopped, suddenly considering something. “I was going to get it last week, but the place was closed. You don't think...” “He's probably out looking for it.” Spike nodded. “Maybe. Still, I can see if I can track him down and ask.” “That would be helpful.” Alula nodded. “In the meantime, is there anything you can tell us about the Mane-iac.” Spike thought for a moment, the side of his mouth pulling back in consideration. “Not sure, most of it you probably already know – she's one of the worst villains out there.” Icy's mouth instinctively opened to dispute this, but her brain just about managed to get ahead of it and closed it again. “Don't underestimate her – she's a genius with gadgets and machines, she's an amazing fighter with her hair and she's totally insane. If she thinks she can do something, she probably can and she definitely would.” “But she is still a literal cartoon character.” Alula said quietly. Spike chuckled. “Oh yeah, she's not the most subtle villain. She loves grandstanding, traps and big weapons – freeze rays, mind control devices, weather machines... “Lasers...” Everyone else went silent and looked at Icy as she realized she'd said that out loud. After a moment, Spike nodded. “Yeah, Lasers are definitely her thing. Why... Why did you say...?” “I was just thinking about the things she's stolen.” Icy said, hesitant to speak her thoughts for fear of being laughed at. “An oven, a bunch of lenses and a few bags of sugar.” Scootaloo rattled off, apparently having been taken out of her boredom and invigorated by the mention of lasers. “Weird bunch of stuff, now you mention it, but...” “A big, hot bulb,” Icy said, gaining some confidence in her theory, “lenses to focus to the light and sugar.” “Sugar?” Alula questioned, sounding like she was giving the thought serious consideration. “What would that...?” “Energy.” Icy knew enough about chemistry to know that. “A lot of energy.” Alula's eyes widened. “Weird way to go about it, but...” Icy nodded. “And if she’s used to comic book science…” Alula nodded. “Possible.” There was silence for a few seconds as everyone considered the possibilities. By the looks on there faces, it didn't seem an enticing prospect. For most of them, at least – the hint of a grin on Scootaloo's face gave the impression worry wasn't the only emotion lasers invoked. “Right.” Spike said eventually. “Don't know what else to tell you... she's got a heck of an ego, so you could try using that.” “Yeah, I noticed that.” Icy said. “She started ranting and yelling and...” She waved her hooves in a vague imitation of the grandiose gestures the Miniac had given, letting them finish her sentence for her. Spike smiled. “Yeah, she's pretty smug and overconfident. If she thinks she's better than you, she'll let you know it. And she thinks she's better than everyone.” “Thank you.” Alula said, standing up. “You've been... less helpful than I'd hoped, but still quite helpful. But we should probably be going.” “Thanks... I think.” Spike said, walking to the door and opening it. “I should probably go help Twi again.” A muffled thump came from somewhere in the castle. “Definitely should help Twi again.” Spike amended without missing a beat. “If you find anything out or think of anything else, let us know.” Alula said, giving Spike a small smile. “Will do.” Alula went to walk out before Scootaloo rushed through the door ahead of her, as if the “nerdiness” in the room had been physically suffocating her. Alula shook her head slightly and followed. Icy went to leave as well, but stopped at the door, turning around. Seeing her out of the corner of his eye, Spike paused in his task of putting his plushie back to bed and turned to her. “Something you need?” Icy took a moment before responding. “Thank you, Spike.” Spike waved a claw. “Hey, I'm just happy to help.” “You know,” Icy said, pausing for a moment as if considering something before smirking, “Hum Drum Returns was pretty awesome. It took Spike a second to realize what she was saying before a grin spread over his face. “Well, yeah. Obviously.” His smile then turned into a frown. “Shame about French Mill's later stuff.” “Yeah.” They gave a collective shudder before Icy waved and closed the door behind her. Fortunately, she could still hear Scootaloo and Alula talking, else she was worried she'd get lost in the halls of the crystal palace. After a minute or so, she caught up with them. “So, we now know what we're up against, at least.” “Yeah, no thanks to you.” Scootaloo muttered, not quite quiet enough for Icy to miss it. “What do you mean?” Icy asked, slightly distressed by the resentment she'd heard in that comment. Scootaloo's eyes widened as she realized she'd been heard before quickly becoming contrite. “Sorry, sorry, I shouldn't have said that! I'm... I'm real sorry.” Icy breathed a sigh of relief that Scootaloo didn't hate her. “That's okay... I guess, but what did you...” She thought back over the conversation. “I don't think I did anything to stop us learning stuff, did I?” Scootaloo shook her head as they exited the castle's front doors. “Nah, not really, we did learn what we needed to... eventually.” She sighed, seeming to resign herself to brutal honesty. “After you guys spent ages shouting at each other over stuff no one cares about.” “We care about it.” Icy mumbled. It was a token protest, though – she couldn't really defend her actions from an mission-efficiency standpoint. “Of course you do. And it did no harm in the end.” Alula said, giving a mildly disapproving look. Though whether it was for her, Scootaloo or both was unclear. “Still, I will admit that whole argument was... somewhat less than fun.” “Speak for yourself!” Icy said, now smiling as she thought back to the debate. “I had a blast!” She kept walking for a few steps before she realized the others weren't next to her anymore. She looked over her shoulder to see them paused mid-stride, looking at her in surprise and confusion. She raised an eyebrow. “What?” Author's Note Incidentally, if you had absolutely no idea what and who Icy and Spike were talking about in their argument... well, then you're in pretty much the same boat as Alula and Scoots, so... operating as intended? Also, it should be noted that said argument was not intended as an indictment of Power Ponies, either the in-universe comic or the episode, nor was Icy intended as a mouthpiece. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't underwhelmed by the episode, but that was not the intent. It's simply that, since I'd established Icy as a fan of comics and Spike is canonically one, I thought it'd be fun to have them get into a little fan-argument. Also Also, since this chapter is somewhat light on plot, I was considering releasing Chapter 4 at the same time. If you think I should release it early, let me know in the comments. Chapter 4: Finding the Root of the ProblemThe next couple of days passed uneventfully in terms of super-villainous activity, with no major actions from the Miniac nor any reported sightings of her. Which, the team agreed, almost certainly meant that she hadn't done anything – as Spike had said, the demented filly was many things, but subtle was not one of them. Of course, neither was she stupid. It seemed likely that she was lying low for a couple of days, now that she knew that somepony was onto her. Admittedly, Iota Force would freely admit that they were no Power Ponies - though whether that meant better or worse varied depending on who you asked - but the Miniac didn't know that. And even if she did, being reduced to a filly, however that worked, probably made her a bit wary of attracting their attention. Fortunately, their enemy not knowing their capabilities meant they could use them to their advantage. In particular, after informing the rest of the group that this was probably the real Mane-iac rather than a copycat (though Archer still seemed unsure), they realized that whatever magic created her would probably be fairly distinctive. Thus, it was possible that they could use the Aetheroscope to track her down. As such, they made sure at least two ponies were always at Pip's house (outside of School hours, of course), keeping an eye on the scope as it passively scanned Ponyville. Tuesday evening, it finally found something anomalous. Unfortunately... “Whaddaya mean it vanished?” Scootaloo's voice came over the badge. Icy paused – since she didn't have a costume yet beyond her badge, she was ready to go the moment the call came that they'd found something. After finishing the page she was on and bookmarking it, of course. Unfortunately, in that brief time, a second call came over cancelling the alert. She'd paused, body still tensed to glide out of the window, her badge still held over her chest as Pip's voice now came over hesitantly. “Er... I mean, well... I mean it vanished. It was there one moment and gone the next. Vanished.” “Yeah, thanks, Mr Dictionary, I know what “vanish” means!” Scootaloo replied testily. “But how?” “I don't know!” Pipsqueak yelled back, exasperated, his volume causing his voice to crackle. “It just popped up for a few minutes and then went away again. “You sure it was the pony we're looking for?” Archer's voice came over, as unbothered as ever. Icy relaxed and climbed back onto her bed, placing the badge in front of her. “Well, it wasn't a kind of magic the scope had seen before,” Pip replied, “so I don't know what else it could have been. Hold on a mo'” There was a pause before Pip continued. “Lance says that maybe she's got some way to hide herself most of the time.” Another pause. “She might only show up when she's...” there was another pause and, weirdly enough, Icy could almost hear Lance shrug, “doing something maybe, I dunno, but once she stopped doing it, she went dark. I know it's not much help, but...” “Not none, though.” Alula interjected. “That might indicate that, whatever she was doing, it was quick and contained in a small area.” There was a pause before Archer piped up again. “Lotta mights and maybes in all that.” “Where did you pick up the magic?” Truffle said. “Somewhere around Sweet Apple Acres, looked like.” Truffle hummed worriedly. Which, considering that he would have had to press the comms button on the badge for them to hear him, meant he really wanted them to know he was worried. “Couldn't narrow it down any more?” “Hey, you know it's not an exact science.” Pip answered in a slightly martyred tone. “It didn't come up long enough to get anything more.” There was a pause before Dinky, who'd been quiet up until then, spoke up. “So, what do we do?” “Don't see as there's much we can do for the moment.” Truffle said. “We'll just have to wait and see if she shows up again.” Icy frowned. She'd been hesitant to speak up as well, knowing that she was the least experienced among them, but she had to ask. “Really? Couldn't we rush there and try to intercept her?” She assumed there was some reason why they couldn't that she didn't know, hence why she hadn't gotten up yet. Sure enough, Alula replied. “It doesn't work like that. The scope has a small delay in it – it takes about ten seconds to sort through all the things it sees and even then it’s only a vague area. Can’t narrow it down without more time to filter through things.” Icy tilted her head at the badge in front of her. “Well, we could at least look around the area, couldn't we? See if we find anything useful?” There was another pause before Dinky spoke again. “Er, Icy, he said it was somewhere in Sweet Apple Acres.” “Not necessarily in, either.” Alula followed up. “Around there.” Icy thought for a moment before answering. “Is that big?” “Icy,” Alula replied evenly, “what's the third word in its name.” Icy hovered her hoof over the badge as she counted. “Sweet apple...” She stopped and pushed the button to talk. “Oh. Sorry.” “Don't worry,” Dinky said quickly, her tone cheerful and encouraging, “you haven't been in Ponyville long, it's okay that you didn't know.” “Nor about the Scope's delay – I'd have said the same.” Truffle added. Icy smiled, though she was glad the others couldn't see it, as it didn't quite reach her eyes. “Thanks.” The others then started talking, arranging things about who was going to have monitor duty next and why Truffle wanted be elsewhere much of the time, but Icy didn't listen. It had already been decided that she wouldn't be asked until she was a bit more familiar with how the scope worked. Which hurt a bit, if she was honest with herself, but she couldn't exactly argue with their logic. Plus, spending ages staring at a screen couldn't be that fun. She placed her badge back on her bedside table and returned to her comic, still feeling very silly about her suggestion. Fortunately, if there's one thing comic books are good for, it's putting “being silly” into perspective. In this case, the hero had just used his spider-tracers to locate the Silver Cyclone's hideout and, of course, it was under a ferris wheel in a New Pork City fairground. Icy wasn't sure how the tracers interacted with his Spider Sense or how a schoolpig had invented such technology, of course. Still, at least he can track his enemies down right. She sighed. But it's not like there are any abandoned shampoo factories or complexes under barbers' shops our enemy can use for a hideout. She blinked a couple of times. Hideout... She thought for a while, letting the comic fall closed. It was Thursday afternoon when they caught a trace of her again. This time, it was sticking around and moving fast. “Somewhere to the east of Ponyville.” Truffle's voice came over the speakers. “Okay, I'm going that way now.” Dinky's voice came over. There was a moment's silence. “Um... which way is east again?” “Other side from school.” Pip replied. Icy pressed her hoof to the badge. “Do you want me there as well?” “Don't worry,” Scootaloo said, “I'm passing by your place anyway, I'll pick you up.” “Okay,” Icy replied, “when are you going to get here?” “Round about now.” Icy heard the sound of a braking scooter outside her window. “Okay.” She said to herself before going to the window. She paused, realizing she'd done so without thinking before turning around and going out through the door. “Mom,” she called as she went, “can I head out for a while?” “Sure, Sweetie, see you later!” Sunny called back. Icy reached the front door, having not even paused while asking. She opened it to see Scootaloo, tapping her hind hoof against her scooter and looking up at Icy's window. In the trailer sat Archer, who caught sight of her and beckoned her over with her head. Giggling silently to herself, Icy trotted over, making sure to keep out of Scootaloo's line of sight. She clambered quietly onto the trailer before speaking up. “What are you looking for, Scoot?” To her credit, Scootaloo mostly managed to stop herself from jumping, but as she whipped her head round, it was obvious she was startled. “N... Nothing, let's go, no time to lose!” She said quickly, revving her wings and speeding off before Icy could say anything else. Though not fast enough to escape her and Archer's laughter. Though she was a bit more used to transportation by pre-pubescent speed demon now, Icy was still caught somewhat off-guard by the sudden acceleration. Fortunately, Archer was a bit more prepared, activating her badge. “Got a better trace yet, guys?” “Kinda-sorta-not-really.” Pip replied. “It's moving, and at a fair old clip, too. Looks like it was on the Roaman High Road, but it's going north, now.” Taking a deep breath, Icy pressed her own badge, fully prepared to say something silly again. “Is that... is she going to Sweet Apple Acres again?” There was no answer for a moment, but Icy had barely started her self-reproach before Truffle answered. “She's certainly moving in that direction. And I don't think there's much else she could want... do you think...” “She could have a hideout there. Maybe.” Icy said, starting to smile. “Possible. Large enough area, could go to and from there without being spotted, could find somewhere to store stolen things... definitely possible.” She heard Alula say, her speech far faster than normal. “Okay,” Scootaloo yelled over her shoulder, “I'm going to try to head 'er off, tell Pip and Truff to tell me where to go!” Icy was about to ask why she couldn't do so herself before she looked over and saw both of Scootaloo's hooves on her handlebars. Probably best not to take them off to activate her own comms. As Archer did as she was asked, Scootaloo added: “Good thinking, there, Icy!” Icy blushed a little, but smiled nevertheless. “You sure this is the place?” Scootaloo asked, looking around. The place Truffle and Pip had guided them to seemed to be nothing more than a standard area of the orchard, trees stretching out into the distance in every direction. Of course, there might have been other things in the vicinity, but the amount of trees meant that visibility along the ground was fairly short and upward visibility was almost zero. “Sure as I can be.” Pip replied over the badges. “She got to that area a couple of minutes ago, then disappeared again.” “You mean she beat me here?” Scootaloo asked, frowning at the possibility. “Well,” Truffle said quickly, “She did have quite a head start and took a more direct route. Relax – she was going fast, but not as fast as you.” As transparent an attempt as it was to placate her, the answer did seem to calm Scootaloo down. Or at least bring her irritation to a mild simmer from a rolling boil that threatened to blow the lid off. “Anyway,” Pip said after a brief pause, “is there anything around you can see that she might have been using as a hideout?” “Not from the ground. Hang on, I'll take a higher look.” Archer said before casually hopping up and grabbing the nearest branch that could support her. She quickly pulled herself onto the branch and hopped up out of sight. This meant that she didn't notice the faces of her friends – the two pegasi she hadn't even considered asking to fly up and take a look. Not that either of them could have obliged such a request, they knew that, but it still hurt. “Nearest thing's a barn about a hundred yards that wa... hold on,” Archer leapt down to the ground, seemingly unbothered by the distance. She pointed a hoof to the left of the way they came. “Think we should take a look?” “Sure.” Scootaloo replied as she sped off in the direction Archer had pointed. Icy was sure she'd just forgotten to give Archer a chance to get back on the trailer. They slowed down as they approached a clearing. Coming to a stop at the edge of it, they could see a barn. Though far from run-down, it didn't look like it saw much use – much of the paint had faded, the hinges to the doors were a little rusted and the doors themselves were shut tight. All in all, it didn't look abandoned or dilapidated, just rarely used. Before they could think on it much further, their badges crackled into life. “Okay, so we found her target,” Dinky's voice came over, “she attacked a freight cart coming into Ponyville. The drivers are okay, just a bit shaken.” “Freight...” Truffle responded, “what was it carrying?” “Grain, they said.” “Grain?” Pip asked. “Oats, rice, wheat, that kinda thing.” Dinky clarified. “Oh, okay.” Pip said. “So why would she try to take grain from a shipping cart?” “She didn't.” Alula piped up. “According to the drivers, she just popped out of nowhere, pulled them out, threw them onto the side of the road, then picked up the whole cart and went off with it.” “What, just like that?” Pip said, sounding surprised but believing. “They said she struggled a bit at first, but yeah, looks like it.” “Well, that's... concerning.” Truffle said. “Archer, Icy, Scootaloo, have you gotten a look at that barn yet.” “Yep.” Archer said both from their badges and from behind them, trotting up casually behind them. If she'd been offended by Scootaloo's snub, she didn't show it. Nor even if she'd noticed. “Looks like just a barn. Bit old and worn out, but can't see anything else. You want us to take a look inside?” “Negative.” Alula's voice responded instantly. “What?” Scootaloo asked, having already started buzzing her wings. “Why not?” “Because even if she's not there now, she'd probably have set traps in case someone stumbled across it.” “Ah, traps, Schmaps, we can take whatever she comes up with.” Scootaloo said, her slowing wings somewhat taking away from her bravado. “Maybe, but it would be easier to “take them” if the whole team was there.” “I dunno...” Scootaloo said slowly. The badges activated just long enough for them to catch the tail end of a sigh before Alula continued. “Very well, once you've gotten all the information you can from outside, go up, listen at the door and, if you can't hear any activity, take a look – and I mean just a quick look – inside.” “Fiiiiiiiine.” Scootaloo moaned. Once the badges had fallen silent, Archer looked over at the barn. “Dunno about you guys, but it looks like just a barn to me.” Icy thought for a moment. “Well, I mean, it's on this farm. That means whoever owns the farm owns the barn, right?” She paused for a moment, smiling at the accidental almost-rhyme, before continuing. “Couldn't we just ask them?” “Not a bad idea.” Archer said, nodding. “Okay!” Icy said, turning around. Then continuing to turn around, going through two full rotations and looking around at the endless orchard around them. “Um... where would we find them? Is there a farm house nearby or...” “Ah, don't worry about that.” Scootaloo said, holding out a hoof to her side. “Archer, couldja get an apple down?” “Sure thing.” Archer replied, hopping up onto the back hooves and getting her bow off her back. In less than a second, she pulled an arrow out of her quiver, nocked it and fired it before falling back to four hooves. The arrow streaked straight through the stem of an apple, causing it to fall into Scootaloo's hoof. Holding the apple in front of her, Scootaloo cleared her throat before saying, in as loud and as hammy a way as she could: “Boy, I sure am hungry after that long walk! It's a good thing I'm in an orchard – there's plenty of food around and it's not like anyone would miss one apple.” She opened her mouth, put the apple just inside it, not touching her teeth, and waited a couple of seconds. Icy was about to ask what she was doing when she suddenly heard heavy hoofsteps rapidly approaching. “PUT THAT DOWN, YA THIEVIN' VARMINT! THAT'S MY LIVELIHOOD YER MUNCHIN' ON! YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST... Oh, howdy there, Scootaloo!” Icy turned to see a rather pretty orange mare in a hat trotting up to them slowly. Although, judging from the cloud of dust behind her, that slowness was an extremely recent development. She leaned against a tree and smiled at them, though there was a certain hardness in her eyes as she looked at the apple in Scootaloo's hoof. “Hope yer plannin' on payin' for that, Scoots. Though I don't see a bit pouch on ya.” Scootaloo rolled her eyes before tossing the apple to the mare, who deftly caught it. She rubbed the apple on her chest, checked it over with the care normally reserved for a jeweller looking over a diamond and then, with a smile, took a large bite out of it. Icy tilted her head. “So, you were just going to eat it yourself?” The mare looked at Icy and swallowed. “Yep.” She shrugged “'smy apple. 'Sides, I was gettin' a mite peckish.” She blinked, her face lighting up with recognition. “Say, yer that new filly in town, ain'tcha? Saw you at Pinkie's Party last Saturday.” Icy beamed. “Yep. My name's Icy Flight!” She fluttered her wings, happy at being recognized. The mare chuckled. “Well, I know 'sa little late, but welcome to Ponyville, Icy.” She lifted her hat for a moment before continuing. “Name's Applejack. Owner and proprietor of this little slice o' heaven, Sweet Apple Acres!” She looked around with a contented sigh before continuing. “But I'm sure ya didn't come here just to say hello to li'l ol' me, what can I do ya for?” Icy paused, caught off-guard a touch by the big, well-muscled, fully grown mare referring to herself as “li'l” in front of three fillies, before answering. “Well, Miss Applejack...” “Hey, no need for the formality,” Applejack interrupted before she could start, “Just call me Applejack.” “Okay, Miss Applejack,” Icy replied a little absently, “we were just wondering what you used that barn for.” Applejack looked over at the barn in question. “Ah, well, not much right now, to be honest with ya. I'm guessin' you noticed it ain't lookin' as great at the others.” She said, not looking to see if she'd guessed right. “That there's our winter storage barn – just before the pegasi bring the snow in, we store anythin' we don't use in those months – and that's most of our stuff – there till Wrap-Up. Used to use it to store any surplus apples we couldn't fit anywhere else durin' applebuck season, but since we got that new barn in the south field last year, didn't really need it this year.” She frowned slightly. “Keep meanin' to give a touch-up. I mean, we may not use it most of the year but it's still important and there ain't no reason to let it rot. But there's always somethin' comes up and it plum slips my mind. Might get Mac to take a look tomorrow, see what he thinks needs doin' 'tween now and when we use it.” She paused for a moment, seeming to commit it to memory, before her eyes flicked back to the fillies and she blushed. “Sorry 'bout that – didn't mean to ramble so much.” “That's okay.” Icy replied. She'd be lying if she'd said it was that interesting, but she did like seeing the farmer talk about something she obviously cared about. “So, you're not going to use it for a while, right?” Archer said, looking over the barn. “Not for a coupla weeks, I'd say. Why? You thinkin' of usin' it for one of your crusades, Scoots?” She said, giving a wry smile. Although, while Icy could have just been imagining it, she could swear she saw a hint of worry in her eyes. She'd heard a few stories about these “crusades” and was... a little wary of them herself. “Nah, don't worry, we were just wondering is all.” Scootaloo answered, waving a hoof. “Oh. Okay, then.” Applejack said slowly, turning to walk away. “Wait, Miss Applejack?” Icy said, suddenly remembering something. Applejack stopped and turned back. “Somethin' else, Sugarcube?” Icy blinked in confusion about why she'd been called that before shaking her head and continuing. “This may seem like a weird question, but has anything been stolen from the farm recently?” “Stolen?” Applejack replied, puzzled. “Stolen, gone missing, that kinda thing?” “Nothin' I can think of. I mean, we don't exactly check things every night.” She thought for a moment before speaking up again. “Though Apple Bloom did say a coupla milk churns were missin' yesterday. But that don't mean nothin' – that filly could lose an apple in an orange grove.” “Milk churns?” Asked Icy, not exactly up on the varieties of farm implements. “Yeah, big metal can types of things, keep milk in 'em after it comes outta the cow. I mean, they coulda been stolen, but I don't see why anyone'd go to that kinda effort for a coupla gallons of milk.” Big metal cans... Housing, maybe? And now a cart to transport it. “And you haven't seen anyone suspicious going around.” Applejack shrugged. “Can't say as I have, but again, that don't mean much – this place is so big and 'sgot so many trees, anyone coulda passed through and we wouldn'ta seen or heard 'em. 'nless of course they were scrumpin'.” Applejack finished, shooting a smirk at Scootaloo. She looked down at her scooter, only now seeming to notice the symbol on it and their costumes. Nodding, she turned around. “Well, nice chattin' to y'all, but I gotta get back to work.” She picked up her front hoof to walk away before pausing. “Oh, almost forgot.” She gave the tree next to her a light kick, causing three apples to fall in front of the fillies. “On the house.” She said, smiling at them over her shoulder. “Just try not to destroy the farm when ya bring down the bad guy.” And with that, she trotted off, leaving two fillies to pick up the apples and one a bit too confused to do so. “What a nice pony.” Icy said to herself. “Weird, but nice.” Then the last thing Applejack said registered with her. “So, is there anyone in this town that doesn't know about us?” “Oh, plenty.” Archer said, putting the apples into the scooter's trailer for later. “But there's plenty who do, too. It's kind of an open secret.” She explained as she trotted over to the doors of the barn, dropping to a whisper as she approached. “They might hear about it once in a while, but they don't really talk about it much.” “Oh, Oka...” Icy started as she followed, before wincing at her own volume. She continued quietly. “Okay, I guess that makes sense. Well, it doesn't but I don't mind. How are we doing this?” “Like Princess said, we listen in.” Archer said, pressing an ear to the door. Nodding, she continued. “And when we don't hear anything we open the door a crack,” she did just that, slowly so as not to make too much noise, “and we see if... yep!” Scampering around, Icy looked through the ajar door. It took her a moment to find it, but she did indeed see a large cart with a pile of closed sacks on top of it. By the cart's wheel, she could see several more sacks and a large glass bowl, with a bulb in its lid and a wire running off it. Weird, Icy thought, I'd have thought she'd have taken it apart and started building the laser by now. “Okay,” Archer said, still whispering, even though there seemed to be no one else there, “let's meet up with the others and come back here.” “You sure? We could just...” Scootaloo trailed off, remembering what Alula had said. “Alright, alright, let's go.” She finished in a slight huff. “Hey, I know, Scoot, I know.” Archer said as they trotted back to the scooter. “For the record, I'm pretty sure we could deal with whatever's here alone, but you know how Lance and Princess can get. Wouldn't want them to miss out, would we? And not just because of the lecture they'd give either. Besides,” she hopped into the trailer and put her back hooves on the rim, “we don't want the Miniac to know we're onto her hideout til we're good and ready.” What none of them had seen, however, not even Archer with her sharp senses, was the single strand of hair that had been stretched across the inside of the barn door. The strand that had been broken when the door had been opened, however slightly. And the box it was attached to, on which a little light was now flashing red. Author's Note Unrelated to this story but, if you haven't already, you should check out RB_'s blog post about an enterprise he's hoping to undertake. It seems like a fascinating idea that could potentially do great things, so I thought I'd do my meagre best to signal boost it a tad. Chapter 5: Bad IdeasThat evening, the seven ponies of Iota force were gathered near the barn, though a fair way into the trees in case someone was looking out. “Okay, so, what's the plan?” Scootaloo asked, her hooves twitching a little in impatience. Alula let out a hum before answering. “Well, I would suggest you, Truffle, Lance and Archer go in. Carefully.” She fixed Scootaloo with a brief glare before continuing. “You go in, check for traps or dangers. After that, the rest of us join you, helping you with any traps if we need to. Once that's done, we'll see what we need to do from there.” “You're sending them into danger first?” Icy asked, suddenly uncomfortable. She knew Alula was an intelligent and logical filly – to a sometimes disturbing degree – but that seemed a bit heartless. Of course, she wouldn't say that out loud. “Course she is,” Archer replied, shrugging, “we're expendable.” Behind her, despite his face being covered by a wire mask, Icy could just about see Lance raise an eyebrow. “No, no that's not what I meant!” Alula replied, a hint of panic showing in her voice. “I'm sorry if I... That's not it.” She took a deep breath before continuing. “It's simply that you four are better at avoiding and surviving traps, while Dinky, Icy and I are better at helping others out of them. “Yeah, guess that makes sense too.” Archer said, turning towards the barn. “You ready, guys?” Lance nodded, Scootaloo buzzed her wings and Truffle let out a deep chuckle, all in affirmation. Without saying another word, they sprung into action. Scootaloo went first, her wings going slower than normal, presumably to reduce the noise they made, but still propelling her forward at quite a speed. Then Archer and Lance went, looking to the sides, ready to intercept anything that tried to flank them. Finally, Truffle jogged after them, a little slower due to his bulk but showing no signs of struggling. Alula held up a hoof to Dinky and Icy, signalling them to wait. After five seconds, she waved it forward and cantered after them, Dinky following. Icy, meanwhile, had been a little blindsided by this sudden professionalism, so took a moment to realize she was supposed to follow as well. Once they reached the edge of the clearing, Alula held her hoof up again. Fortunately, Icy noticed this, realized she was supposed to stop and did so before she ended up walking into Alula's rump. Just. Over at the barn, she saw the others preparing to go in. Scootaloo and Truffle were a couple of meters away from the doors, both in ready stances. Archer and Lance were up against the doors, weapons out, Archer's ear against the door, as it had been earlier. After a few seconds, she nodded to the others. She and Lance placed a hoof against each door and pushed, ever so gently and carefully. Unfortunately, the thing they had forgotten about barn doors is that they tend to be rather big and somewhat heavy. As a result, the doors opened about an inch and gave off a very loud creak at they did so. Stopping the instant they heard the noise, Archer and Lance backed off a couple of steps from the door, weapons up, ready to take on anything that came out. After about fifteen seconds, it became clear nothing was going to. Relaxing a bit, though still not lowering their weapons, they turned to look at Truffle. Though his back was to her, Icy could tell the overweight colt was smiling. He took two step backwards, lined himself up, then ran at a full gallop at the doors, body checking them right in the centre and swinging them wide open. At the instant he did so, Lance and Archer followed, sweeping through the doorway and pointing their weapons on either side. An empty barn greeted them. As the four entered the barn, Icy, Dinky and Alula followed slowly, stopping by the edges of the doors and peering in cautiously. The four inside were still searching, looking and checking in every corner, turning around quickly every so often so nothing could sneak up on them and, ever so slowly, moving forward towards the cart and assorted loot. But nothing happened – no hair-rope snares, no hair tripwires, no shampoo-slicks. Nothing. Out of the corner of her eye, Icy could see Alula's face grow more and more worried. Once the team's vanguard had reached the cart, they checked it all over. Again, no trap was sprung. “Can't find anything.” Archer whispered from their badges. Alula frowned. “There has to be something, there's no way she just left all this stuff to be found.” “Maybe she just didn't think anyone would look here?” Dinky suggested. “It is pretty out of the way.” Alula gave her a flat look. “Dinky, she picked up a cart and carried it here. I doubt she was relying on stealth to defend her lair.” “Oh, right,” Dinky said, pouting a little, “sorry, that was silly of me.” Alula smiled and put a hoof on her shoulder. “No, it wasn't, I'm sorry, I should have...” She stopped mid-sentence before shaking her head and refocusing. “Anyway, I suggest we make our way in. Slowly.” Not waiting for an answer, Alula crept in through the door, Icy and Dinky following a moment later. That was when things kicked off. Something impacted on Icy's head. She only had a millisecond to register it as some kind of liquid-filled sack before it exploded with a splat, covering her in goop. At the exact same moment, she heard two other splats next to her and a number of others from the other side of the barn. Lifting a hoof, Icy got a look at the liquid covering her. It was a white with a slight yellow tint, very thick and full of little lumps. She didn't have time to consider it much further as an insane cackle came down from above them. “A very noble effort, my dear, lovable ignorami. Unfortunately, you failed to think about the one kind of trap that could thwart any precaution.” Looking up, Icy saw the Miniac, her hair grasping the barn's rafters and lowering her down slowly from an upper loft of the barn. “The living kind!” Instantly, weapons were trained on her, stances taken and energy gathered in horn- or wingtip. The Miniac smiled, pretending to check the underside of her hoof. “Oh, I really wouldn't bother with any of that. I mean, you can, but it will do you very little good. You can prepare to cut me down in any way you like. However, in but a moment,” she looked up, her smile growing, “You won't want to.” “What do you mean?” Icy asked, not liking her expression one bit. She stepped to the side, starting to walk around the Miniac to join the larger group and leaving a trail of the unknown goop behind her. She could hear Dinky and Alula following, but didn't take her eyes off her opponent. “What is this stuff?” “Oh, nothing much,” The Miniac looked up and tapped her hoof on her chin in faux-thought, “A little formula to make you... a little more compliant. Unbelievable, don’t you think, how an ordinary chemical or two can combine into something incredible? I have to admit, I did worry when I heard my hideout had been found – I'd hoped a lair out on the fringe would mean I’d have more time to make more of the formula. But I had to trim my plan and make only enough for all of you. But now that you've been... enriched by it, I think I'll have all the time in the world. And you are going to help me make and deliver it to everyone in your whole pathetic town.” She let out an insane giggle. Icy, Dinky and Alula reached the others. “Enough games! What. Is. This. Stuff?” Archer growled, sounding concerned for perhaps the first time since Icy had known her. “Hmmmm,” The Miniac drew out the hum, revelling in the tension, “I believe the appropriate term would be a... love venom.” “Love Poison?!” Scootaloo yelped, sounding even more panicked than Icy was. “Indeed. Can you feel it working yet?” As Icy's mouth hung open in shock, a drop of the liquid fell into it and onto her tongue. “Maybe you're beginning to look at me in a new light? Becoming aware of how wonderful I am, of how terribly you want to make me happy, to do anything for me?” Icy smacked her lips quietly. “How you'll do everything I tell you to do? How you'd happily die for me, if I were to command it? I'd let it happen, if I were you. You may try to fight it, but you will inevitably fail. Nopony can overcome my...” “Rice Pudding!” All the tension and fear the Miniac had evoked instantly vanished as the words left Icy's mouth. All eyes turned to her. The Miniac stared at her. “What.” Icy licked a little of the liquid off her leg. “It's rice pudding.” She swished it around her mouth a little before swallowing. “Very nice, actually.” Around her, the others all tried a little, a chorus of appreciative murmuring coming afterwards. “Mm, it is pretty yummy!” “Yeah, I'm not normally into rice pudding, but this ain't too bad.” “Could use a little cinnamon, but yeah...” “NO! IT CANNOT BE!” The Miniac screamed, a tendril of hair pulling out a crumpled piece of paper covered in messy handwriting. “The formula... It th- it definitely... GAAAAH” Her hair scrunched the paper up into a ball and threw it at Icy petulantly. Before it reached her, Alula grabbed it in her telekinesis, uncrumpled it and held out in front of them. On it, in what looked like a colt's or filly's hoofwriting, was a recipe, needing sugar, milk, rice, a couple of spices and an oven. And next to it, in large letters, was a note that said how “everyone will fall in love with it”. Alula looked up at the Miniac, her stoicism fighting a losing battle against her amusement. “You didn't really think this was some kind of super-scientific mind control formula, did you?” The Miniac just glared in response. “Oh, of course, I forgot – comic book character!” Alula rolled her eyes. “Where did you even get this.” “As it happened, I found it right in front of me when I grew out into this world.” A small smile broke through her foalish pout. “Evidently, the filly who freed me had an identical goal to me before I... hitched a ride.” Alula opened her mouth to say something before Scootaloo got ahead of her, her laughter barely contained. “Looks like she just wanted to make dessert.” She snorted, then, after a moment, burst out laughing. That broke the dam, and all of Iota Force was soon guffawing at the situation. “I mean, wow,” Scootaloo continued between laughs, “can you believe I was actually buying into that horseapples you were coming up with?” “Yeah,” Icy said, still laughing, “here I was worried you were building a laser with the stuff you'd stolen, but no,” another wave of laughter hit her before she continued, “turns out you were making the dreaded rice pudding!” “Well, I... wait, what?” The Miniac's expression, which had lost its smile and was rapidly shifting through annoyed and angry into a full-on conniption, suddenly turned to confusion. “How would I make a...” “You know,” Icy continued as the laughter began to subside, “focus the light and heat from the oven through the lenses?” The laughter trickled to a stop as Icy thought about something. “Actually, hang on, why did you steal all those lenses, anyway?” “The light from the halogen bulb...” The Miniac muttered, ignoring Icy's question. “That would... But that would take a huge amount of energy!” Had Icy not been recovering from a massive bout of laughter, she would have instantly noticed the Miniac's sudden inquisitveness and stopped talking. As it was, however, she continued without thinking. “Yeah, but then you'd use the sugar to get mm mmf... mm?” Her mouth was covered by Lances cloth-covered hoof two seconds too late. “You're right!” The Miniac exclaimed. “How could I not have reali-” Her hair darted forward. The team split down the middle, readying for a fight before they realized she was going for the loot behind them. She managed to take the oven before they realized this, but as the tendrils reached for the sacks of sugar, Icy flapped her wings, encasing both the sacks and the ends of the hair in a block of ice. A scream of rage burst forth from the Miniac. Turning to her, Icy saw her close her eyes. A moment later, the trapped strands of hair detached from her head, apparently solely by an effort of will, and more immediately grew to replace them.. The instant she did this, something extraordinary happened. Once the hairs had been disconnected from her, they started shrinking. As they did, they changed colours from the Miniac's dark green to a bright red. In less than a second, they had reduced from a length that reached clear across the barn to a fraction of a millimetre, transforming into a red powder. So that's what that was. Icy thought before refocussing on the apoplectic villain in front of her, whose eyes were focussed squarely on her behind the lenses of her goggles. Lenses! But that would mean... the Mane-iac doesn't wear... Before she could finish the thought, the Miniac spoke, her voice sounding both angry and hurt. “You... how could you? Do you have any idea how many thplit endth you jutht gave... me...?” Everyone was silent. The Miniac looked at Iota Force. Iota Force looked at the Miniac. Everything started to fall into place. ‘Hitching a ride’. Red hair. Glasses. A lisp. “Twist?!” The Miniac huffed. “Indee-” She paused mid-word before shrugging. “Yeth... and no.” Evidently she'd decided to stop avoiding s-sounds. “I'm jutht... borrowing her body and mane for a little while.” The corner of her mouth quirked up into a slight smirk. “I'm pothitive the doethn't mind. Or at least, the doethn't know. And if the doeth, there'th nothing the can do about it.” Icy heard the tautening of a bowstring behind her. Looking out at the corner of her eye, she could see the tip of a very sharp arrow. “Let. Her. Go!” Truffle said, his voice colder and more serious that Icy had ever heard. She dreaded what she would see in his eyes if she turned around. The Miniac's eyes widened for a moment before she smiled slowly, as if she was relishing every millimeter her mouth moved. “No. No, I don't think I will. In fact, I think I'm going to be leaving now. And I think you are jutht going to thtand there and let me go. You can keep the thugar, though, I'll thoon have more than I could ever need.” “Why... why would we...?” Dinky asked, her voice quiet and quivering with sorrow. “Well, you could try to thtop me if you like,” The Miniac replied, carefully enunciating every word, “but I wouldn't if I were you. Unleth, of courthe,” A thick strand of hair suddenly dived into a pocket of her costume before coming out with a straight razor, “You want your friend to die.” She held the blade against her neck, right over the jugular vein. There was a horrified pause as everyone took in what she was suggesting. “You... you wouldn't...” Dinky pleaded, sounding almost on the edge of tears. “Weeeeeeell, it wouldn't hurt me, of courthe.” The Miniac said casually. “I'd thimply need to find a new body to recondithion. Hopefully one with fewer... problemth and lowlightth. But you're right, naturally. I mean, what thort of pony would have the sheer nerve to jutht kill the body they were inhabiting.” She leaned her head back a little and looked down at them, her eyes and smile far too wide. “Why, I'd have to be thome kind of... maniac! EhehehehehehahahahahahahahaAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” She lifted herself up on her hair-tentacles, not moving the razor away from her neck. She paused for a moment until, once it became clear they weren’t coming closer, she strolled out, keeping eye contact with her opponents as she faded into the night. Once she was gone from view, the other reacted. “DAMMIT!” Archer let loose her arrow, embedding it a beam. Truffle stomped hard and bucked a partition wall, smashing a sizable hole in it. It looked like he was going crazy trying to decide whether or not to run after his possessed friend. Dinky just sat down, looking shocked at their enemy’s callousness, and Icy instinctively went over to hug her, Scootaloo revved up her wings to give chase before Alula's hoof stopped her. “Don't worry,” the shape-shifter began, “We can...” “What do you mean, don't worry?!” Truffle yelled, turning on her. His volume was enough to shake Icy down to her guts. “She's got Twist! She's possessing my… our friend! And we have no idea what she's going to...” “Whatever she's going to do, we’re gonna stop her.” Archer interrupted, his normally cool voice hard and determined. “We’re gonna free her from this… this...” She simply spat on the ground as an end to her sentence. “Besides, you're wrong about one thing,” Alula said in her usual steady tone. “I think we know exactly what she's going to do next.” “We do?” Truffle asked, a hint of hope in his voice. “She said she'd soon have all the energy she needed.” Alula paused, waiting for an answer until it became apparent not everyone found things as obvious as she did. “All the sugar she needed.” Another pause. More silence. “Can you think of anything happening soon where there'd a lot of sugar? Like, for example, in candy?” That made it click. “Nightmare night!” Icy muttered. “Exactly. It sounds like she's going to use that to power her laser.” Alula said. “And now that we know that, we can prepare for it. Let's go.” Alula turned on her hooves and started to trot away., The others, in various states of consideration, sadness and anger, quickly followed. Icy lingered for a moment. “So, hold on a moment,” She said, causing the others to stop and look over their shoulders at her, “just so I’ve got this clear in my head, we're going to stop a classmate who's being possessed by a literal comic book character from wreaking havoc using a candy-powered death ray.” Alula nodded. “Assuming that the idea you gave her would work - something we won’t take a chance on - then yes, that seems a good summary.” “Okay,” said Icy as she trotted to catch up with them, “just checking!” Author's Note Not that I expect many people to write or read comments, but if anyone does, remember to put any mention of Twist as the Miniac's host in spoiler text. Thank you. Chapter 6: Finding KryptoniteThe next day, Spike finally came back to them with some information about the comic that had caused all this. First, he informed them, with a distinctly lecturing tone, that the comic did not let anything physical out, but a disembodied spirit of the Mane-iac who would possess whoever opened the comic and transform them into a copy of herself, with the same powers and skills. It had taken a massive collective effort from all of them (as well as a couple of hooves placed over mouths) not to give an “Oh really?!” so sarcastic it might have physically cut Spike, thick scales or not. As it was, he merely wilted from their expressions. His first new piece of information was that, because the Mane-iac rarely tired, she would often take the body for joyrides when it was asleep. This would, of course, make the host very tired very quickly, which in turn would make them sleep more which would give the Mane-iac more time to play and so the cycle would continue. The response to this was a bit more low-key – shame that no one had noticed Twist's condition, even when it was right in front of them. Except for Truffle, that is, who had been spending a lot of time with her because of it. However, he was even more ashamed that he didn’t realize the extent of the problem or that it was caused by more than just sleeping problems. Fortunately, the other information Spike had was a lot more useful. For one thing, the Mane-iac brought some of her rules with her when she came out - nothing reality-shattering, but she would be able to make a lot of comic-book science work, presumably including her laser. In fact, had the recipe she’d used come from her mind rather than Twist’s, it most likely would have worked - an unpleasant thought. Also, she would be able to exert some influence over Twist at any time, such as suppressing any relevant memories, but could only control her fully when she manifested - at all other times, she was nearly undetectable. The most important piece of information, however, was that the Mane-iac could be recontained in her original comic – all they had to do was get her to go back into it. Even if she put a hoof or a single hair in (appropriately enough), she'd quickly be sucked back in, unable to leave until the next pony opened the comic and let her out. The phrase “all they had to do” was, of course, somewhat relative. Initially, there had been worry that she'd have simply destroyed the comic, but Spike had assured them that wasn't the case – the dealer had layered protection spell after protection spell onto all his most powerful or dangerous comics to prevent precisely that situation from occurring. Spike had assured them that he wasn't that dumb. Just dumb enough to let one of the most dangerous baddies in all of comics (Or so Spike said Icy thought) out of his sight to take over an innocent filly. Which made them feel much better. Furthermore, they'd quickly deduced that she would probably stash the comic somewhere she could access it quickly, both to prevent others from finding it and so she could escape into it if she ever needed to. Their first thought was in the barn, but were that the case, she would have undoubtedly retrieved it first when she escaped. Thus, Icy, Alula and Dinky found themselves outside of the only place they could think that it might be - Twist's house. “You're sure she wouldn't have come back here to get it?” Icy asked. “No, not sure, but it's unlikely.” Alula said offhandedly, her mind focussing on something else. “Once she knew that we knew she was possessing Twist, she wouldn't have come back here, since we might have been waiting for her.” “But... we weren't, were we?” Icy asked. “No, but she didn't know that.” Dinky sighed. “Her mommy and daddy must be really worried about where she is.” “No,” Alula replied, a hoof playing with her hair oddly, “they think she's at a sleepover at Ruby Pinch's house.” “Why?” Dinky asked. “Did you tell them that?” Alula paused, paying attention to the others for the first time in a while. “No. I asked them where she was. That's what they said she told them.” “Oh...” Dinky looked away, embarassed. “Sorry.” “That's alright,” Alula replied, focussing again, “if she hadn't, I might have had to.” She did not sound as if she relished the idea. “What are you concentrating on?” Icy asked. “My disguise.” Alula said. “If I'm going to fool Twist's own parents, even for as short a time as I plan to, my imitation must be perfect.” As Alula's eyes closed, a rippling greenish distortion grew into the air around her, her form becoming indistinct and blurry. The distortion continued a lot longer that Icy had seen it do before, tiny licks of green flame flashing within it every so often. Soon, Alula's form was entirely obscured. After a couple of seconds, the distortion disappeared without a noise, a bang or even a whimper. When it did, standing in Alula's place was Twist. And not the Twist Icy had met when she first came to town, but the Twist of the last couple of weeks. Her hair was even more frazzled than normal, her eyes had heavy bags under them, even her stance, expression and movement was a perfect imitation of Twist's normal bubbliness muted by heavy fatigue. Even knowing that this was Alula, Icy could scarcely believe it wasn't Twist. Shaking her head, Icy remembered what she needed to do next, scampering with Dinky around the corner of the house while Twis... Alula knocked on the door. Listening carefully, Icy heard the door open and Alula run inside. “Thorry, Mom, I'm really thorry, I forgot my thleeping bag and I can't really have a thleepover without...” As Alula-Twist rambled, Icy could hear her rushing up the stairs. “And your costume.” The voice of Twist's mother called after her. “What?” Alula-Twist's footsteps stopped. Twist's mother chuckled. “You said you wanted to work on your costume at the sleepover, then forgot to come back and get it.” “Oh...” Icy could practically hear Alula-Twist's ears flatten, “I'm really thorry!” “It's okay,” Twist's mother said gently, “just promise me you'll be careful.” “I will, Mom!” The sound of an upstairs door closing reached them. As it did, a sigh came from the front door, all the mirth draining from the mother's voice. “That does it.” A male voice said quietly. “We're taking her to a doctor – this is not normal.” “Yes. Yes we are.” Twist's mother replied, worry and pain muting her voice to practically a whimper. “But after Nightmare Night.” There was in intake of breath heralding a response before she pre-empted it. “You know how much she was looking forward to it. I don't think I could stand it if she had to miss it because of this... whatever's going on.” The front door closed, cutting Icy and Dinky off from the conversation and reminding them of their mission. Trotting round to the back of the house, they looked up to see an open window with Twist's face looking down and beckoning them. As Alula had told them, there was a tree very close to the window, it's branches mostly bare of autumnal leaves. Icy helped Dinky up the branches before using her wings to help herself up. Dinky was small enough to climb across a thin branch while Icy simply glided in through the window. Once inside, Icy took a look around the room, which was... surprisingly orderly. In fact, most of it looked like it hadn't been touched or moved in a week or so. Which it probably hadn't. The only area that was messy was the bed, where the covers and pillows were crumpled and askew. Alula-Twists hindquarters stuck out from under the duvet that hung off the side, her head under the bed, searching. Looking around, Icy began to ask “So where's the comi...” before catching sight of the bookshelf, an entire shelf of which was dedicated to them. “Where would a wise pony hide a leaf?” She muttered to herself. It wasn't a patch on her or Spike's collections, of course, but it was certainly respectable. Unfortunately, Icy thought as Dinky approached the shelf, horn aglow, that's a lot more than even I can check through before Twist's mom comes to check on her. After all, if she's just grabbing a costume and a sleeping bag, that doesn't leave me a lot of time to check... “One of these ones!” Dinky declared, pointing to an area of around 25 comics. Icy blinked. “How do you know?” Dinky gave a shy smile. “Oh, it's one of my thingies, psychomat... psycho...” “Pthychometry.” Alula-Twist responded from under the bed. “That's it.” Dinky nodded. “Though my thing isn’t psychic, it's about time, so... chronometry? Anyway, I can scan things to get an idea of their history. It's not that exact, but I knew that Twist would be too tired to read them, so the one the Miniac put there would be the most recently moved!” She finished, smiling gently with modest pride. “Nifty!” Icy smiled back. “So which one is it?” “The jutht thaid it'th not that prethithe.” Alula-Twist said, trotting away from the cardboard box she'd pulled from under the bed and going towards the room's wardrobe. “You're the quicketht comic reader of all of uth, thcan through them, we don't have much time.” “Right!” Icy nodded, immediately setting to work. It didn't take long to find – the fifth comic she checked featured a story where the Power Ponies were facing the Mane-iac for a couple of pages before she suddenly vanished for seemingly no reason. She then reappeared a couple of pages later before immediately disappearing again and staying absent for the rest of the comic. This resulted in a somewhat anticlimactic ending where the Power Ponies rounded up her minions, went back to their headquarters and had a cup of tea, discussing what in Tartarus had just happened. Either Fable Niece-Ceasar had had a substantial brain-fart with this issue or it was the comic they were looking for. Also, the fact that it was issue twenty seven but in the middle of issues one hundred and thrity eight to one hundred and sixty two was a bit of a giveaway. Evidently, the Miniac hadn't cared much about chronology when she'd hidden it. Which just made Icy want to defeat her even more. “Okay, I've got it!” Icy said quietly, going to the window. The others nodded, Alula picking up the sleeping bag she'd found in the wardrobe and Dinky trotting over and climbing onto Icy's back. Fortunately, she was small and light enough that Icy would be able to glide them back out of the window. Just. As Dinky took a breath and held it (not, as she'd said earlier, because she was afraid, but simply to stop herself from going “Wheeeeeee!”), Icy turned to Alula. “I'm not sure how we're going to force her back inside, but at least there's a chance now.” For the first time since she'd changed, a hint of Alula showed on Twist's face for a moment – a wry smile. “Well, Forthe ith a thtrong word. There are... other pothibilitieth. We just need to come up with a plan.” “Actually,” Dinky piped up, letting her breath out to speak, “I think I’ve already got one.” Author's Note Double chapter post this week, since this is a somewhat shorter chapter and the last before the climax. Chapter 7: The BlowoutFinally, Nightmare Night came. The sounds of the festivities just beginning could be heard in the direction of Ponyville, but beneath the statue of Nightmare Moon, all was quiet except for the rustling of leaves and candy wrappers. Though the traditional offering to Nightmare Moon wouldn't come until much later in the evening, there was a substantial pile of confectionery sitting beneath the statue's hooves already. Earlier that day, a young colt had been seen pulling a cart, bigger than he was and filled with candy, towards Whitetail Wood, where the statue stood. When asked about it, he simply said that he was getting the offering out of the way early so he could keep everything else for himself. No one had had the heart to point out either the illogic of getting rid of that much candy just to get a few more that night or the fact that that really broke the spirit of the night. As such, the colt made his offering and the rumour mill set to work. That said, as much candy as he had been toting, the pile that now rested in front of the statue was larger still. However, were anybody watching and wondering, this apparent incongruity would have been explained when one half of the pile, the significantly taller and wider half, whispered something. “Are you sure she'll come?” “Of course she will.” The other half whispered back. “Alula said she'd made sure people saw how much candy she was taking.” “You’re sure she won’t just wait until everyone else has made their offerings? You know, get as much as she can?” “I don’t think so. From what we’ve seen, she can wait, but she’ll want to get her power source as soon as possible, so she won’t miss an opportunity like this. She’s already had to wait inside Twist enough since she… oh, sorry, I know you don’t want to be reminded…” “It’s okay, I just… as long as this works.” “I think it will. Oh, hold on, I think I hear someone coming.” Sure enough, the leaves on the ground started crunching as they were crushed beneath ambulatory tentacles of hair. The Miniac came into the clearing. In her hooves was a large gun-like device, clearly cobbled together but still looking somewhat dangerous. It was connected by thick cables to a large canister on her back. She looked over the pile of sweets. “So, there wath an offering already made. I did not underthtand that to be a thing. How... odd.” Her hair hovered around the pile, not quite touching it, as if afraid it might bite. She waited a few moments before shrugging. “But fortunate for me.” A tendril grabbed a large clump of candy and lifted above the open canister before pausing. She had definitely felt something large and firm in that pile. Looking back towards it, she saw a patch of grey fur visible just beneath the surface. The surface which subsequently burst open. “Surprise!” Dinky and Truffle cried in unison. There was a couple of seconds of silence as the Miniac stared at the two. Her hair dropped the candy into the canister and closed the lid automatically. “That'th it? Thurprithe?” She asked. “Yep!” Dinky chirped. “You made thith bait, planted this thuthpithiouthly.. thuthpith... dubiouthly huge amount of candy here and all you were going to do ith yell “Thurprithe”? “For the moment.” Truffle replied, a sneer on his face. The Miniac stared a moment more before shrugging. “Very well, if you're that eager to die, I would be happy to oblige you.” She flicked a switch on the gun, causing a hum to emanate from the canister. “I don't think that's a good idea.” Dinky said in a tone as if she was actually trying to help the Miniac. “And why ith that?” The Miniac raised the gun, pointing at the two. “Because, at the moment, we're just the distraction.” Truffle gave her a nasty smile. The Miniac's eyes darted to the side as she heard four thumps behind her. She whirled around, coming face-to-face with Scootaloo, Icy, Lance and Archer, their weapons and abilities all readied. The Miniac took one look at the assembled forces... and burst out laughing. “AAAAAHAHAHAHAHA! Thithis your idea of a trap? Even if thith wathn't the motht hare-brained attempt at an ambuth I have ever witnethed, you theem to be forgetting one fact – the thircumthtanthes have not changed.” Hefting the gun in one hoof, she spread her arms wide, presenting her chest to her opponents. “You can fill me full of arrowth and bladeth ath much ath you like, but you will only hurt your friend.” She grinned. “There’th nothing that cutth quite as deep as a hothtage thituation, ith there?” Archer looked up, as if thinking for a moment, before shrugging and letting loose an arrow. As soon as it hit, there was a flash of light and the Miniac yelped in pain. She looked down at her chest, only to find no arrow and no wound. She poked her free hoof against the spot the arrow had impacted, wincing as the spot was still sore. She looked up questioningly. “Impact arrows.” Archer explained coolly. “You didn't think we'd only have lethal weapons, did you?” She nocked another arrow, it's end blunted and faintly glowing. “These babies don't do any permanent damage, but they hurt like a... you.” Not seeming to notice the veiled insult, the Miniac gave a snort, though her bravado was beginning to crack. “The... the might thtill feel the pain if I let her, you know.” Scootaloo shrugged. “She's a tough filly. You? Guess we’ll see.” Smirking at the growl her statement prompted, Scootaloo leaned forward over her handlebars. “Bring it!” Managing to lock eyes with the Miniac through his mask, Lance beckoned with one hoof. Letting out a roar, the Miniac surged forward, hair swinging wildly. Her enemies, though, were ready, darting to either side of her around her strikes, running behind her to cut her off from Dinky and Truffle. As she spun around to face them again, Lance lunged forward with a flurry of quick, light strikes of his sword. Like Archer's arrows, none of the strikes pierced the skin, but each sent a stinging pain through the Miniac's body, forcing her back and keeping her off balance. Once she had fallen back about ten meters and the clearing had been obscured somewhat, Lance stopped. He walked around behind his opponent and held his sword to the back of her neck, silently demanding her surrender. Chuckling darkly, the Miniac had all her hair rush behind her, the mass pushing past Lance’s parry and knocking him back a good ten feet onto his back. Whirling around, she aimed her gun at his prone form and pulled the trigger with her hoof. The hum from the canister tripled in volume for an instant as a blast of pure light shot forth from the gun's nozzle. Unfortunately, the arrow that struck the gun meant the blast enacted the Miniac’s vengeance on a young oak tree. “What?!” The Miniac cried, turning her head to see Archer just to her left, leaning against a tree and nocking another arrow. She trained her gun on the blue filly, raising it to her eye and fired with a scream. Another arrow impacted the barrel, knocking the blast up and over Archer’s head. Snorting in contempt, the Miniac landed her back hooves on the ground, keeping herself stable with a couple of thin strands of mane while the rest rushed forward in a tidal wave of hair, ready to wrap themselves around Archer and hold her in place. Unfortunately, a Scootaloo-shaped blur pulled her out of the way just before impact, causing the hair to wrap itself around the tree behind her. Before she could untangle it, a wave of cold rushed over the tree, forming ice to pin her hair in place. The Miniac tried to whirl her head around in the direction the freeze-gust had come from, but forgot to let her mane out more, meaning she only succeeding nearly yanking her scalp off. With a “hmph!”, her hoof twisted a dial on the gun before firing it at the ice, the beam going over a much wider area and melting the ice down to a thin sheet. With a flex of her hair, the remaining ice shattered. She breathed a sigh of relief and was started to pull her hair off the tree. Until another gust came over and made even more ice. At this point, the Miniac's rage had seemingly reached a point where it could noy increase any more and had plateaued into a furious calm. “I really hate you, Ithe-filly.” She stated simply before turning the dial back to where it was and firing a beam in an arc, scything through her trapped hair. She was about to turn to fire at Icy when something impacted her ribs, the buzz of wings and the squeal of tires rushing off to her left. “Hey, bed-mane,” shouted a rapidly shifting voice, “keep your eye on the birdie!” Too livid to question these orders, the Miniac started firing at the orange-and-purple blur. Each shot came up well short – Scootaloo was moving too fast to hit normally and too erratically for the Miniac to lead her shots. “Thith ith ridiculouth!” The Miniac bellowed as she fired. “You can’t outrun a lather! It moves at the speed of light.” She twisted another knob and fired the laser in a long arc after Scootaloo, all with a scream of “BY DEFINITION!” “Yeah,” Archer said off to her side as another arrow knocked the laser in the opposite direction from Scootaloo, “but you don’t.” Snarling, the Miniac turned towards Archer, but before she could train the gun on her again, the hum from the canister faded. Frowning, the Miniac pulled the trigger a couple of times experimentally, but only produced a clicking sound. She turned her head back toward the statue. “Keep her off, just a few more seconds!” Scootaloo shouted from closer to the clearing. Before the Miniac could question this, her hooves suddenly froze to the ground. Gathering her hair together for a couple of moments and tightening it into a solid ball, the Mane-iac swept it through the ice, breaking it all off in a couple of strikes, then repeating the motion for her back hooves. She showed no sign of being bothered by the attack, but it bought the few seconds that were needed before the Miniac charged into the clearing, ready to grab another bunch of... absolutely nothing. There was not a speck of candy left in the clearing. The only things there were the statue, a sweating, panting Dinky and Truffle, lying on his back with a hoof over his bulging stomach. “Oof,” he moaned, “I think that was a bit much, even for me.” “Are you going to be okay?” Dinky asked between breaths. “I'll live.” Truffle gave a weak smile. “What about you, that was a lot of impressive magic you used.” Despite her face being red from exertion, it was still noticeable how Dinky blushed at the compliment. “I'll be fine, we needed to get it done quickly.” “WHAT ITH GOING ON?!” The Miniac screeched, having somehow found an even greater level of anger. “Where ith the candy?!” As if in response, Truffle gave a low, wet-sounding belch. “You can't have...What about the wrapperth?” She yelled in desperation. “You mutht have hidden them or elthe where are all the wrapperth?” Truffle winced. “Let's just say they didn't do the taste any favours.” The Miniac stared blankly, her mouth opening and closing like a guppy fish. Her head fell behind her hair as she heard the others run up behind her. From behind that curtain of green mane, however, came a deep, unhinged chuckling. “You think you've got me, don't you? That you've thwarted my planth? Think tangling with the Mane-iac would be tho eathy? You foolth!” Suddenly, she shot up on her hair-tendrils, rushing to the side of the clearing. She turned back to her opponents, hair raised to attack anyone who came at her. “There ith an entire town full of thugar for me to capture!” She opened her mouth to continue her rant before pausing as she heard a quiet song approaching. “This is nightmare night, this is nightmare night, Pumpkin scream in the midnight blue.” The Miniac's grin turned sadistic as two tendrils of hair darted in the direction of the singing. “This is nightmare night, keep your children outta sight, Hide and shriek or the seeker's gonna come for youAAAAAH!” Pulled into the clearing, suspended upside-down in hair-tendrils, was a filly – Tootsie Flute, if Icy remembered her face right. She looked around, confused, panicked, clutching onto her larger-than-normal candy bag as if it were a life preserver. “In fact, why don't I demonthtrate?” The Miniac sniggered as she effortlessly ripped the bag from Tootsie Flute's grasp. “Of courthe, I'm well aware that I could eathily get thugar other wayth... could get energy other wayth even eathier.” She mused idly as her hair plunged deep into the bag. “Why, with a cothtume like mine, I could get adultth to give me more candy than I could ever need.” She regarded Tootsie Flute with amusement, keeping Iota Force in the corner of her eye. “But I prefer to take the thingth I want from otherth. A fringe benefit, perhapth, but it'th that little touch of pointleth cruelty that truly maketh a villain'th life meaningful, don't you agree?” She said, turning back to the group. “I dunno about that,” Archer replied, smirking, “but I know you're wrong about one thing.” “And what'th... that...” The Miniac trailed off, realizing that her hair was still plunging into the bag, far deeper than the bag actually went. Panicking, she pulled her hair out, revealing what she'd grabbed in the bag. Or rather, what had grabbed her in the bag. The open pages of a very familiar comic book. She glanced at Tootsie Flute, only for a flare of distortion to shift her form back to that of Alula, the sudden shift in size throwing the hair off of her, making her fall to the ground. The Miniac turned to Iota Force, terror paralysing her vocal cords. A hint of teeth showed in Archer's smile. “That is our idea of a trap!” “No. No!” The Miniac tried to whip her last hair-tentacle at Alula, only for it to be caught in the vortex and pulled into the comic. It was now inches away from her head, and the purple of her coat and the green of her hair began to recede from her hooves and tail, leaving Twist's cream and red. Hauling himself to his feet, Truffle strode up to her, his belly wobbling but not slowing him down. He hopped up, grabbed the comic in both his front hooves and pulled with all his might. “Get. Out. Of. My. Marefriend NOW!” He roared, pulling the comic back and making the colour-fading accelerate. Soon, only the surface of her face remained the Miniac's. Then, with a pop, even that came off, spiralling into the pages of the comic book. “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooooooooooo!” The scream faded into silence. For just a moment, in the page of the comics, one panel could be seen of the Mane-iac, now fully grown, beating against the fourth wall. Then Truffle slammed the comic shut, threw it onto the ground and spat on it, his face contorted in disgust. Silence fell over the clearing, everyone taking a moment to catch their breaths. The silence was broken by a loud sniffle. All eyes turned to Twist. Not that she could see that – her eyes were unfocused without her glasses and welling up with tears. His face instantly softening, Truffle held a hoof out to Alula. “Did you bring them?” He asked, not taking his eyes off Twist. Alula handed him a large, thick pair of glasses. Nodding in thanks, Truffle went up and slipped them onto Twist's nose. Twist looked up, now able to see Truffle in front of her, his hoof outstretched to help her up. Ignoring the hoof, Twist darted forward, wrapping her hooves around Truffle. She pressed her face into his chest and burst into noisy, messy tears, “Oh Thelethtia I am tho thorry I thouldn't have I mean I couldn't thtop her and I didn't know and the wouldn't let me remember but I do now and the and I tried to hurt you and to kill you and to kill me and I thould have been able to thtop her why couldn't I thtop her and I...” Twist babbled through her crying, her tears forming deep pools beneath her glasses. Through it all, Truffle continued to hug her tightly, patting her mane and whispering to her. It didn't stop her crying, though. Feeling a few sympathetic tears herself, Icy tore her eyes away from the spectacle and turned her attention to the comic, now lying unmoving on the grass. Catching Alula's eye, not wishing to speak, she indicated for her to lift it. Lighting her horn, Alula did so, whereupon Icy sent a short burst of freezing energy over the comic, encasing it in a thick block of ice. Nobody was going to be opening that thing for a long time. “Excellent thinking, Icy Flight.” Came a regal whisper from behind her. “Princ-” “Do not shout, I wish not to interrupt things. When young Pipsqueak told me what you were attempting, I merely came to see if there was any aid you required. It seems, however, none was necessary. You are to be congratulated.” Icy seemed not to hear the praise, looking at Twist and Truffle. “Will she be okay?” “She will.” Luna replied solemnly. “We have excellent therapists and counsellors on our staff who will do all in their power to see that she recovers from this... terrible experience.” Icy nodded dumbly. She knew, intellectually, that was a good thing, but couldn't bring herself to be happy just at that moment. “Princess?” “Yes, my little pony?” “We... we beat the bad guy again, didn't we?” “It would certainly seem that way.” “So why doesn't it feel good this time?” Luna gave no answer. Epilogue: Rinsing out the tasteThe Mad Thespian strolled down the country street. It was chaos all around him – monsters, magical creatures and assorted colourful characters rushing around, destroying, looting and generally making mischief. For most creatures, this would be a terrifying situation. He, however, was not most creatures, and for an... entrepreneur and showman such as himself, it represented a perfect opportunity to do what he wanted and take what he wanted without any pesky heroes (or hecklers, as he liked to think of them) interfering. There were extremely few such ponies around and they'd be too busy with the cornucopia of creatures around them. He smiled as he deposited his latest... box office takings into his sack - marked with the word “SWAG” in big black lettering rather than a bit sign, one can never be too explicit with one's props, after all. He adjusted his maroon velvet opera cloak, pushed his wide-brimmed hat back slightly, twirled his cane and chuckled to himself, the soft laughter soon evolving into a full belly laugh and finally a long, loud, lunatic's cackle. Unfortunately, he was so caught up in his mirth that he didn't notice the figure walking into his path until it was too late. He walked right into the figure, feeling cold metal against him for the instant before he bounced off of it and onto his behind. Rubbing his head, he looked up at the figure to see that it hadn't moved at all in the impact. It was obvious why. At first glance, the figure seemed to be some kind of robot, made of boxy metal with pipes weaving in and out of it, transporting an unknown liquid. Attached to each of the figure's front hooves was a gun-like nozzle attached to a box with wires and electronics sticking out and another pipe leading out of the back. It was only when one looked at the figure's face that one realized the nature of it. On the front of its head was a glass screen, behind which could be seen a pony's face, furless and an unnatural shade of white. Red goggles covered her eyes and her expression was unmoving, as if frozen in place. At points in the suit, a thick mist could be seen falling out, hinting at the intense cold within. A frown formed of the Mad Thespian's face, his slitted eyes narrowing. “Misty Freeze, as I doth live and breathe.” “Yes.” The figure replied simply. She fell silent after that, making it clear no apology was forthcoming. The Thespian hopped to his feet, his flared boots making a muffled thump against the path. “That suit of yours, 'tis rather unyielding, 'tisn't it?” “Yes.” Misty Freeze responded. “It tends to stop people cold.” Her monotonous voice didn't quaver as she said it, indicating that she took no joy in the pun. In fact, it was questionable whether she realized it was a pun – it could have simply been how she thought. Sighing at the lack of emotional response from his audience, the Thespian glared at Misty’s shielded face. “Well, I dost hope thee dost not intend to interfere with mine revels this night. Stay out of mine way or we may have a fight scene.” “There is no danger of that.” Misty responded, blinking slowly behind her goggles. “If your past performance against the Power Ponies is any indication, you will be put on ice before long.” “How darest thee?” The Thespian responding, hamming up his indignation as much as possible. “At least mine enemies hath numbers and incredible powers.” He continued, emphasizing the last two words as if challenging Misty to disagree. “Whereast thee dost find thouself stymied by one pony in a costume even I find excessive. Dost thou truly think such an enemy more of a threat than mine?” Mist Freeze didn't even have to think. “Yes, I do.” The Mad Thespian frowned, his claws tightening around the top of his cane. “You realize, of course, that this venue,” he indicated to the town around them, “ist only large enough for one leading player. And I dost not intend to be upstaged by thou.” “Your intentions are irrelevant,” Mist Freeze replied, the guns on her hooves beginning to emit a high-pitched hum, “your chances of victory are absolute zero.” Roaring with rage (though whether because of the insult or the pun was unclear), the Mad Thespian charged, drawing his sword cane from its sheath. As he closed with his opponent, Misty Freeze raised her freeze gun and let loose a stream of cold. “Have at thee!” “Freeze!” The thin foam sword bounced harmlessly off of Icy's armour of silver-painted cardboard at the exact moment that the rubber dart, painted white, attached itself to Spike's forehead. The two stopped moving, appreciating the tableau for a few seconds before a snort from Spike sent them both into fits of giggles. “Of course,” Icy managed once her laughter had died down, “it's not like they'd really recognise each other.” “I know, I know,” Spike said, rolling his eyes, “different companies, but I couldn't resist. Besides, it'd be nice if there were more crossovers these days.” “Well, there was JLE/Vindicators.” Icy pointed out. “Yeah, but that was an exception.” Spike replied before amending, “An awesome exception, but still an exception.” He twirled his foam sword around before thrusting it dexterously into its sheath. Icy stared at the maneuver. “Woooow!” Looking up at the exclamation, Spike smiled. “Fingers!” He said, wiggling the clawed digits for a moment. “Pretty neat things to have.” “Yeah.” Icy said, looking over the dragon. “That's an amazing costume, Mr Spike. Did you make it yourself?” “Hey, no need to Mister me, I'm just Spike. And nah,” Spike waved a claw, “Rarity made it for me.” “Huh.” Icy thought for a moment – she'd heard the name, but couldn't quite place it. “So, is she really into the Power Ponies too?” “Not really,” Spike replied, starting to walk along the path again, “if she did know the Mad Thespian, I might not have asked her to make it.” Icy frowned, trotting alongside him. “Huh? Why would that...?” “Cause it meant I had to be around her to explain it to her while she made it.” He said, giving a semi-devious smile. A smile that was lost on Icy. “Okay... I guess?” She said, not really understanding his reasoning. Shrugging, Spike changed the subject. “So, anyway, I'm surprised you're here, I thought you'd be busy with dealing with… you know.” “Oh, well, we got that wrapped up pretty early. And since Twist... couldn't be here,” Icy replied. She was smiling now, but it was a thin smile with a touch of melancholy. They both knew what had happened to the innocent filly, though Spike less intimately so. Still, Icy couldn't quite bring herself to say it, “and Truffle's staying with her tonight, we all agreed that we'd go out, get as much candy as we can and then each give some of our share to them.” Spike smiled. “Aw, that's really sweet of you guys.” Icy shrugged. “She deserves it after what she's been through. Also, Dinky said it might help make sure she doesn't get a phoba... phob...” “Phobia?” Spike suggested. “Yeah, phobia from all that.” Icy paused, looking at the young dragon. “Wow, you're really good with words, Spike.” Spike smirked. “Comes from living with Twilight. So, anyway, Misty Freeze? Why'd you go with her. I mean, even ignoring the...adaptation, there are easier Batmare villains to make, aren't there?” Rolling her eyes at the reference, Icy explained. “Yeah, but I kinda feel for him – I'm not that great with heat either. See, I...” As the two continued on, their conversation wandering from subject to subject as they wandered from house to house, Icy's mood lifted considerably. Though she didn't think about it consciously, the experience helped her put the problems they'd encountered in perspective. Because there would always be monsters, villains and threats. And sometimes, good ponies would get hurt. But as long as they had friends, old or new, close or casual, things would always get better. Author's Note So, fun fact, initially the Mad Thespian was just going to be mentioned once in chapter 3 as a quick little reference to a cartoon I love. But then I thought of him when I needed a costume and the idea of Spike speaking in butchered elizabethan english was just too amusing for me. Maybe that's just me, but I think it worked. Chapter 1: A Proper Welcome to PonyvilleIcy trotted down the street, humming a formless tune to herself. It had been a week or two since she'd helped thwart Fire Eyes's... well, she couldn't really call it a plan and he didn't seem to have any goal beyond “everyone dies”, so... efforts? Yeah, that worked. A week since she'd helped thwart his efforts, discovered her ice-generating powers and joined Iota force. She'd been given an official badge, promised a costume when it was developed, familiarized with how they did things and then... nothing. They’d explained to her that, as important as their job was, their kind of threats didn't happen every day. So, life had been relatively uneventful since then. Well, except for that giant tree monster that had come through town on Wednesday, but the princess and her friends had taken care of that. Today was a Saturday, though, and Icy was on her way to Sugarcube Corner - apparently the name of the building that had produced those aromas that she'd smelled when she first explored the town and had been taunting her at the back of her mind ever since. The previous weeks, she and her mom had been mostly concerned with settling in and she hadn't had a good chance to go back there. Upon hearing this the previous day, Scootaloo had threatened to tie Icy to her scooter and drag her there if she didn't go today. Although she was (probably) joking, Icy decided not to turn down the invitation. Bringing herself back to the present, she came up to the building, seeing sugary smoke wafting from the windows. She smiled, opened the door and had barely crossed the threshold before flavour exploded on her tongue. Her mouth took a moment to register the cupcake that had been shoved into it and the hoof holding it closed and, in that time, her tongue had decided that it didn't matter because sweetness was all that ever was, is and would be. Her eyes focused after a couple of seconds to see a bright pink pony staring at her with brighter blue eyes. Her voluminous hair practically quivered with energy and her mouth was pulled into a smile that looked like it would hurt most ponies. “I knew it! I knew it I knew it I knew it! I knew knew knew it could contain that much sugar without being lethal, or even coma-making... Comaking! Heehee! I mean, sure, it made the mixer whine and melt a bit but now we know it's possible! This'll revolutionalise cupcake technology! It may be expensive, but look at that smile!” Her eyes were locked onto Icy's face as she continued without taking a breath. “Only 21.782% dumbfounded confusion, and the rest pure deliciousness overload! And on a new pony, we can effectively eliminate 75% of that confusion and... wait a minute! New pony? And a filly, too? You know what that means!” Her tail came around from behind her, a baking tray inexplicably balancing on it. “More free cupcakes!” Icy's body locked up as more sweetness-delivery-vessels were shovelled into her mouth. Through it all, one thought managed to form: Oh, that kind of loon! After another three cupcakes had gone in and down, the pink dynamo stopped, squinting at Icy's face. “Waaaaaaaiiit a minute! You're new, and I haven't seen you before. How long have you been in town?” Discomfort and fear freed Icy's mouth to answer. “A... A couple of weeks.” “A COUPLE OF WEEKS?!” The pony's smile seemed to flip upside-down. “A whole couple... and you haven't been thrown a single party?” Tears swelled in her eyes. “How.. how could I have been so inconsiderate? Why didn't I notice you before. I'm a terrible pony.” Icy was about to try and comfort her when her tears suddenly stopped, and her face scrunched into a determined frown. “Wait, wait, I have a plan. It's a bit unorthodox, but I can think of only one way to make up for this terrible oversight. Yes... yes, I think I can do it. It's crazy... so crazy, it just might work!” She zipped to Icy's side, put a hoof over her shoulder and whispered from the side of her mouth. “Okay, just hear me out. What I'm thinking is... I could throw you A PARTY!” Confetti seemed to explode out of the vivacious pony's mane as her smile returned, stronger than ever. Icy could feel herself smile, and genuinely wasn't sure if it was sincere or terrified. “I... I guess Mom and I could-” “You have a mommy too?!” Pinkie screamed, having apparently not made that connection. “Wow, so the party will have to be superiffic enough for two! Ooh, this is gonna be tough! Gummy!” A small alligator rose slowly out of her mane. “Make a note: Party for... what's your name?” “Icy Flight.” “Party for Icy and her mommy must, underline must, be totally, absolutely, super-duper-luper-kuper-buper AMAZING!!! Yes, three exclamation marks, it's that serious!” The alligator blinked languidly. “Well, obviously! That goes without saying!” She said in apparent reply. The alligator blinked again and lowered itself back into her mane like a submarine. “Anyway, I need to talk to your mommy about this, where does she live?” “23 Saddle Lane” Icy replied before she could stop herself. “Okaythanksbye!” She heard from the after-image of pink in front of her. She blinked, returned herself to reality and looked around for her friends. She saw Dinky, Alula and Pip watching her with unconcealed amusement and staggered over to them. “Yep,” Pip said as she sat down, “Pinkie Pie'll do that to you. 'specially if she hasn't had a chance to throw you a party yet.” “So, is that why you wanted me to come here so urgently?” Icy asked. “So she wouldn't be too... like that?” Alula gave her her usual expressionless look. “It... may have had something to do with it.” Dinky put her hoof on Icy's shoulder. “But mostly, we just wanted you to try the food here. Wasn't it yummy?” Icy was about to concede the point when Pinkie Pie came up to their table. “Can I take your order?” Icy looked to the door. “Didn't you say you were going to talk to Mom?” “Yeah, I already did that, so what can I get you?” At this point, Icy's confusion had reached the end of the spectrum and, by the time the others had given their orders, had looped back around to acceptance. “Okay, could I have a chocolate muffin? Oh, and maybe some...” She trailed off as she looked out of the window. Coming around the corner of the street were several police officers, moving with a purpose and carrying... well, she wasn't sure. From what she'd read and seen, while disasters, monsters and villains were common here, actual crimes were something of a rarity. At least, the sort where the police could do anything about it. She'd seen a couple on the beat, but never actually going somewhere. “Policeponies...” She muttered to herself, thinking. “Maybe... some... policeponies, gotcha!” Pinkie said around the pencil in her mouth before she put her notebook away and zoomed into the kitchen. She'd later learn that Scootaloo was still considered the second fastest pony in Ponyville because considering Pinkie Pie for that, or indeed, for anything, was more trouble than it was worth. After a delicious lunch of a chocolate muffin and several gingerbread policemares (and one policestallion, though Icy wasn't sure how and why Pinkie made a distinction), Icy and her friends trotted down the street to see what the actual policeponies were doing. They didn't have to walk long – it turned out that the hospital was very near Sugarcube Corner, something Icy wasn't sure was coincidental – and that was where the police had set up their crime scene. Unfortunately, whatever had happened was on the other side of the building, so they couldn't see anything without getting closer. As they turned the corner, a senior-looking officer spotted them and strolled up to them. His name badge identified him as “Chief Book 'Em”. “Hey there, li'l ladies! What can I do for ya?” He smiled genially at them. He looked middle-aged, red in coat and grey in mane, but no less fit than a pony half his age. He was probably one of the bigger stallions in town (though not quite as big as the pony who'd brought Apple Bloom to school a couple of times... Yikes!), and must have worked pretty hard for it. Yet he had a gentle expression and kind demeanour that belied how determined he must have been to be ready for anything the criminal element could throw at him. No matter how small that element was. Or maybe he's just naturally like that and I've just read too many crime comics. Icy thought. She shook herself out of her thoughts as she noticed Dinky put on an expression that... well, Icy assumed it was put on. Nopony could look that cute by accident. “We just wanted to see what was going on.” She said, soulful eyes trying to drown the chief's defences in pure adorable. The chief chuckled – obviously his defences weren't up to much. He ruffled Dinky's hair, taking off his boot to do so, and turned around, leading them to the crime scene. “It's not a problem, Ms Doo. Don't think it's anything you'd need to worry about.” As they walked forward, Icy whispered to Dinky. “That was really nifty, Dinky. How did you do that?” “Do what?” Dinky asked, suddenly looking confused. “You know,” Icy widened her eyes in a pale imitation of Dinky's previous expression, “cute him into letting us see what's happening.” “I... what?” Dinky stopped walking, as if she was too baffled to continue moving her legs. “He'd have shown us anyway.” Alula said as she came up behind them. “This isn't Detrot – unless there's something really nasty happening, the police here don't see a reason to be secretive. Besides, he knows who we are and what we do.” “Oh.” Icy blinked as she realized how she'd misread the situation. “Sorry, Dinky.” “It's okay,” Dinky chirped, before reverting slightly to confusion, “...I guess.” Apparently, she still didn't know what she'd done, so she shrugged, gave Icy a quick hug and trotted after the chief and Pip. Alula came up behind Icy and clapped her on the back as she walked past. “I don't know how she does it either.” Icy blinked a couple of times and scrambled to catch up with the others. They had to walk down the length of the hospital to get to the crime scene, but they could already see a small crowd gathered around the edges, not coming in any further than they had to to see. Not because of any policeponies holding them back, but because of what the crime scene seemed to mainly consist of: glass. The area just outside one of the hospital's windows was covered in tiny shards of glass, none bigger than a bit coin. This explained the chief's boots and the crowd's distance – for a species that habitually went around barehoofed, glass could be a problem. One shard in the frog of the hoof and… well, it wouldn’t be pleasant or clean. However, the area it covered was much smaller than Icy would have thought. Especially since the window directly above it was intact, meaning one of the upper windows must have been broken. Although... “All this glass out here...” Icy pondered out loud as she came up besides the others. “Yep, break-in, looks like.” Said the chief. “Gotta say, it's one of the weirdest ones we've seen in a while.” “But the glass is all out here.” Icy had read enough detective comics to know this clue when she saw it. “Doesn't that mean the window must have been broken from the inside?” The chief looked down at her in an “impressed-at-the-child” kind of way. “Good deduction – that's what we thought too, at first.” “At first?” Icy finally looked up to the window that was smashed. Except it wasn't. Most of the window was fully intact, but a perfect circle had been cut out of it's centre, just big enough for a grown pony to squeeze through. A very neat job, it looked like from this distance. “So why...?” “All the smashed glass?” The chief finished for her. “We're not sure at the moment. Weirder still, there's just as much glass inside as out and some of the stuff inside isn’t broken. Just cut into rough squares.” “But that would mean...” Icy started, before realizing she had absolutely no idea what it would mean. The chief chuckled at her expression. “Yeah. We're not sure what happened, or why whoever did this would do it just to steal a bunch of lenses.” “Lenses?” Pip asked, having been quietly contemplating so far. Icy looked around to see Dinky working her adorable magic on a couple of other policeponies and Alula landing with wings that hadn't been there two minutes ago. “Correct, area behind window is opticians, seemed to have stolen lots of lenses for glasses. Also, hole in window was small enough that any grown pony would have to squeeze through, despite roughness of glass and presence of shards on inside of hole, would cause damage to skin or clothes. However, no remnants noticeable, indicating culprit did not touch the side. Would suggest...” She looked at the chief, who had given her his full attention. “...that culprit was smaller than adult.” Icy didn't have time to wonder about Alula's change in syntax as the Chief, for the first time, seemed to regard the matter seriously. “You think it might have been one of your...” “Possible, not definite.” Alula replied. “Right...” The Chief thought for a moment. “Well, the only major clue we found was this stuff.” He held up a small pouch full of some sort of red powder. “Was all over the place, particularly among the glass, might be something to do with that... I dunno.” “Thank you, Mister Book.” Dinky said, having rejoined them at some point during Alula's analysis. “Sorry we have to butt in like this.” And she seemed to mean it, too, but the Chief just laughed. “Not a problem, li'l miss! Always happy for the help.” As the four of them walked away, Icy was still speechless. The Chief had actually been helpful, forthcoming and thankful for their assistance. That wasn't how it was supposed to work. The police were only supposed to be a source of information or a hindrance for the detective. She snorted, and promised she would never read another detective comic again. Well, maybe one or two more, just to check… 20 issues of Batmare later, it was evening and Icy was sitting down with her mother for dinner. “...came out of nowhere to ask when our party should be, no context, just...” The conversation was on the expected topic. “...started to say we might be able to come next saturday, but she said “but that's only a week before Nightmare Night!” so I asked...” Icy was beginning to wonder if installing a panic room wouldn't be a good idea. Sure, with her newfound abilities, unfamiliar as she was with them, and her mom's experiences, they should be okay, but... “...of course, since I'm actually ten thousand spiders in a pony suit, I should be able to burn down Canterlot without a problem.” Icy shook herself out of her thoughts and looks at her mother's smirk. Sunny Flight knew her daughter and could see when she was going off on a mental tangent, so she'd made a game of how much nonsense she could spout before Icy noticed. Icy smiled apologetically. “Sorry, Mom.” At this point, the question of what she'd been thinking was unspoken between them. “Just thought we should think about... security stuff.” She shrunk, feeling silly saying it out loud. Sunny, though, just looked thoughtful. “Makes sense.” She said after a few seconds. “Especially if and when anything happens with you and your... group? Team?” They hadn't yet decided on a term that sounded neither overly- or underly-dramatic. Icy nodded. “Might happen sooner than we think.” At her mother's questioning look, she told her what she'd seen and heard at the hospital. Sunny listened carefully until Icy finished with “...and to be honest, I don't know if I want it to be something we can deal with or not.” That fact had been making her uneasy since they'd discovered the possibility. “I know it's silly, but...” Sunny smiled at her. “Not silly at all, Icy. You want excitement, to get a chance to be a part of a team and use your new... icyness!” She finished with a chuckle Icy fidgeted, but began to smile in spite of herself. “Maybe...” “Who said “May you live an interesting life” was a curse, anyway?” Sunny continued. “I'd rather have an adventure any day.” Icy rolled her eyes at her mother. “Geez, I never would have guessed.” She looked to Sunny's left ear, at where the real one ended and the prosthetic began, then down at the ravioli in front of her. “If nothing else, your meals are always an adventure.” She felt her mom's magic give her a gentle swat and giggled. Her mother’s cooking wasn't bad, by any stretch. It tasted fine, it was just... robust. It could be eaten or, in a pinch, used as building material, or possibly insulation. Of course, in some of the places Sunny Flight had been, she might have needed that, but still... As Icy went off into her thoughts again, Sunny smiled. The two continued their meal in a comfortable silence. Almost a week passed, and nothing much seemed to happen - no new thefts, no developments, no suspicious kids in school with striped shirts and sacks marked with bit signs. Icy had put forward that Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon might have had something to do with it, but it seemed unlikely (although the others had told her that that particular bit of wishful thinking was quite common among the team). Besides, that week, they were mostly picking on Twist for being slightly more clumsy than usual. None of them liked it, of course, and Truffle in particular was spending a lot of time helping and comforting her, but it did seem to indicate the two bullies had other priorities. So, it didn't seem like any children they knew were responsible and the police hadn't brought in any suspects. It was beginning to seem like a one-off robbery, if a bizarre one. Not that that stopped Iota Force from being prepared in case something else happened. There wasn’t much they could do to prepare, but they still kept their ears open. And it paid off. That Friday, Icy was just finishing settling down to bed (after only three “last” comics) when she heard a ping from her bedside table. She turned over to look and saw her Iota badge light up. “...anyone hear me?” Truffle's voice crackled out from the badge. It was soft and quick and, as such, barely recognizable as Truffle. “I heard the sound of glass breaking across the street. Took a look out and there's a window with a hole, just like at the hospital.” “D'ya see who made it?” Archer's smooth voice asked, sounding curious but not worried. “No, I'm going down to see for myself.” There was a pause, filled by the slight crackle. “It's Haute Cuisine's cafe, on Barrel Lane, anyone else close enough to er... lend their aid?” A touch of his normal boisterousness had snuck into his tone at the end there, but Icy paid it little mind. Barrel Lane was only a couple of streets away from her house. She picked up the badge and pressed down on the iota symbol. “I am, on my way.” She attached the badge to the fur on her chest, went over to her open window and glided out in the direction of Barrel Lane. She landed just as she reached to top of the street and, seeing Truffle's distinctive shape in silhouette, scurried quickly over to him. As she reached him, she saw the glass glinting in the moonlight. Just like at the hospital, it was spread around a small area below the window. Even smaller, this time, since the window in question was on the ground floor. Unlike the hospital, there were a lot of larger, more intact pieces as well, just as the chief had described. Still, the broken glass was widespread enough to stop anyone getting close without risking hurting their hooves badly. She trotted up to Truffle's side and whispered “How are we going to get to the wind-woah” Without warning, Truffle had picked her up, put her on his back and started trotting casually over the shards. She felt the material beneath her and remembered. “Right, yeah, super-suit, forgot, sorry!” she whispered, Truffle responding with a deep but quiet laugh. When they reached the window, Icy put her head and front legs through, carefully to avoid the sides of the hole, then pushed forward into a glide, landing a fair way into the cafe's interior. She turned around to see Truffle climbing through, his stomach ballooning slightly over the lip of the hole as he did so. A shuffle was heard from the kitchen, and Icy turned around to look, only now thinking that she should have brought a torch. She took a step towards the kitchen, then another, moving as silently as she could. Three steps, four steps, five ste- She stopped as she felt her hoof fall on something strange. Soft, rough... and moving. She looked down to see some sort of tendril beneath her hoof. She couldn't see exactly what it was in the darkness, but it felt like- Before she could finish the thought, the tendril writhed out from beneath her hoof and, joined by many others, wrapped itself around her legs, pinning her in place. A “What?” came from behind her and she turned as best she could to see that Truffle had been caught as well. As they struggled, a small, dark form floated from the kitchen door, hanging off a massive tendril seemingly attached to its back. “Well, well,” the figure said in a filly's voice, her red and green eyes shining in the darkness behind a pair of goggles, “even here, in... in a new world, there are... there'd be a meddling do-gooder or two looking to cut me off early.” Her words came out strangely haltingly. It was as if she needed to continually check her own words. “Not that it... would matter, it would appear.” The tendrils around Icy's legs seemed to vibrate as the figure laughed insanely. “It appears not.” Truffle said, not seeming bothered. “It seems we're at your mercy, Miss... sorry, do I know you?” A hissing chuckle came from the figure. “Could it be? Could it truly be that I am not known here? That my reputation… didn’t reach here? Not even a highlight? Well, don't you worry.” Icy could feel the tendrils sliding up her legs and beginning to tighten. “Your world will find out... quickly enough. A pity you won't be around to...” A longer pause, this time, as another large tendril emerged from the kitchen and slithered through the hole in the window, carrying something Icy couldn't see, “behold it.” “I'm sure!” Replied Truffle casually, despite the strain audible in his voice. “If only these things were a bit more brittle.” He emphasized the last word while looking Icy in the eye. It only took a moment for his meaning to register, and another to gather the energy in her wingtips before she flapped them at Truffle's legs, the tendrils around them freezing. The figure screamed as Truffle quickly smashed his way out of his bonds. “NO! Do you have any idea how badly the cold can damage my-” Icy felt the tendrils around her hooves start to tighten, threatening to crush them before they stopped. “No matter.” At the sudden change in the filly’s tone, the main tendril on her back, which Icy could now see all the others came from, slid out of the hole in the window. “No matter at all. I'll have to trim my plan tonight, but we'll meet again! That I guarantee. AAAAHahahahahaha.” And with that, the tendril yanked her out of the window, her laugh echoing into the distance. Immediately, Icy felt her bonds shorten into nothingness. She looked down at her hooves, just about seeing powder fall in the moonlight. No doubt the same red powder as they had seen at the hospital, though she still had no idea what it was. One thing she did have an idea of, though... “Truffle? That stuff she was holding us with? Was that...?” she looked at him, and he just nodded. “Hair!” They said in unison. Author's Note Credit for Chief Book 'Em's name goes to Darth Link 22. Admittedly, when I asked him for permission to use it, he informed me that he got it from the english dub of the Kirby anime. However, I was not aware of this and gained my fondness for the name from his stories, thus he gets credit for it. Also, I've heard some people say that Pinkie Pie is difficult to write well. Personally, I didn't find her that bad, so I presume either that I failed at writing her and don't know it (damn you, Dunning–Kruger effect!) or that I might be closer to her mentality than I thought. Not sure how to feel about that. Next Time on Iota Force...“A very nasty encounter.” The young colt said to himself, waving a hoof over the scrying globe to shut it off. “Lucky I found it. After all, a defeated villain, a hurt friend and a new member – I think it's time Iota force and I had another little... sparring match.” Trotting over to a small filing cabinet, the colt pulled the middle drawer open and started riffling through the folders within. “Let's see... P... Ponyville, Pony... Ah hah! Ponyville!” He cried as he pulled out one of the thinner folders. He trotted back to his desk and threw the folder onto it, opened it and spread out the papers within. On each one was the details of a specific place in Ponyville – what it was for, what it contained and what security it had in place. The colt hummed to himself as he looked over the papers. “Of course, I forgot just how little of note there is in that town. Very little corporate, noble or industrial presence. No major museums or galleries, too close to Canterlot for most to bother. The bank's always a possibility but I did that last time. Wouldn't want them to think I'm falling into a rut, now would I? Oh dear.” He paused in his musings. “It's a lovely town, to be sure, but not much there for a young criminal mastermind to really sink his teeth into.” He sighed. “I'd have thought they'd have something... Wait, of COURSE!” Seized with inspiration, he shifted a few papers to find a specific one. Once he found it, he scanned over it, his smile widening. “Yes, that could work. Of course, I'll have to wait until they have… but that shouldn't take long. Yes, this should be most exhilarating.” He grabbed a loose piece of blank parchment and started sketching, his mind already drafting his first message. Dear Iota Force, I have a puzzle for you...
Chapter 2: Parties and Afterparties“Hair? Like... mane hair?” asked Pip. “Mm-hm!” Replied Icy, who was the only one showing much surprise at the weirdness she was describing. It was the following day, around noon, and most of the group had gathered again in Pip's basement. Alula, Lance, Pip and Archer had listened to Icy and Truffle recount the previous night's encounter, staying quiet until they had finished, clearly thinking about what this could mean. “So, we have a filly with a prehensile mane who, from what you're saying, seems... less than entirely sane.” Alula said after a moment. “Does that sound familiar to anyone else?” “You're not suggesting...?” Archer trailed off with a dismissive shake of her head. “I mean, yeah, sounds like the Mane-iac but...” Lance raised his hoof to his eyes, then to just in front of the top of his head. “Exactly,” Archer continued, having paused while Lance moved, “Mane-iac's an adult, she'd probably have larger plans that robbing a café in Ponyville and, let's not forget, she doesn't exist!” The last statement was said with a slight forcefulness that was, Icy had learned, the closest Archer got to shouting. Alula nodded, face as impassive as it had been throughout the conversation. “Yes. Not impossible that it's her, but improbable. She's probably a copycat, but how did she gain those abilities?” “Well, couldn't see a horn on her,” Truffle said, “and I couldn't feel any magic around the hair, could you Ic- Are you alright there, Icy? Icy shook her head, realizing she'd let a bit of distaste enter her expression. She smiled apologetically. “Sorry, yeah, I'm fine. Anyway, what do we...” “'Sup!” Scootaloo's voice came from the opening door. “Sorry I'm late, guys, swung by Haute's place to see the damage. Shoulda seen the guy, he was going ballistic.” She chuckled as she came up to the table. “Was it that bad?” Icy asked, puzzled, “It didn't seem that bad.” “That's why he was screaming.” Scootaloo smirked. “Said he should be open, but the police wouldn't let him.” “Why is that?” Asked Alula. “Cause, you know, crime scene, had to cordon off-?” “No,” Alula interrupted bluntly, “why did he think he should open after a break-in?” “Oh, right,” Scootaloo winced briefly, “Forgot to say – the only thing stolen was two of their ovens.” She held up a hoof, forestalling any interjections, “Not one of the big ones, one of those with the... you know, the big light bulb.” “Halogen?” Alula guessed. “Yeah, that's the one. Anyway, what do we know?” As the others explained what she and Truffle had seen, Icy was thinking about what she'd just learned. A halogen oven... a big, super-hot bulb plus lenses... Bright light focused by lenses... it wasn't enough to bring up, sounded too implausible, even by their standards, but it could just be possible. She tried to dismiss it, but one word kept bugging her: Laser. Speaking of something bright being focussed into a burning intensity, Pinkie's party was that evening. To the average citizen of Ponyville, it was standard – a wonderful time, but no more than any of her parties. That was not an insult, by any means – each one was a unique and marvellous experience, but ranking them up against each other was difficult. After all, few besides Pinkie had ever quite grasped the difference between “Superiffic” and “Supertastic”, much to her exasperation. Or the closest she ever got to it, at least. To Pinkie, it was a rousing success, definitely a 14.834 on the Merriometer (no one had ever dared ask how she calculated this or what it was out of). She'd had a whole week to prepare, and could honestly say that it was thoroughly superiffitastimazingificent. Give or take. However, both the citizens and Pinkie were used to her normal level of party. Icy was not. As such, she was standing in the sidelines, so to speak, trying to recover her energy (and, initially, her breath) after her last foray into the epicenter. She looked to her mom, enjoying the attention, telling stories of some of the things she'd done and places she'd been. She was in her element, but not Icy's. Icy was enjoying herself, to an extent, it was just tiring. Of course, her recovery would have been easier had it not been for the filly flitting around her and talking so continually that Icy wondered if she had some Pie in her family tree. “...always make sure to come to Pinkie's parties when we're in town and this punch is amazing!” The filly – Zippo-something, as far as Icy could make out – moved thoughts without breaking flow. “Yeah, I... guess it is.” Was all Icy could think to say. She wasn't annoyed, as such, just a bit lost and floundering. “Um, do you think you coul-” “Twitchy Tail!” The entire party suddenly ground to a halt – music, conversation, everything. Icy tensed up – she'd recognized Pinkie's voice, but didn't know what it meant. She started looking for whatever was wrong, whipping her head round... CLONK! Right into the head of another filly, who'd been carrying a tray of candies in her mouth. “That's weird,” Pinkie's voice came from within the throng, “I don't have one for walking into ponies. Usually a twitchy tail means something fal-” CLANG! The tray, thrown up from the impact, landed on Icy's head. “Oh, there it is! Okay, everyone resume partying!” Everyone resumed partying. “Oh my goodneth, I'm tho thorry!” Twist picked up her fallen glasses and put them back on. “Oh, It'th you, Ithy. I’m really thorry, I...” She said, sniffling slightly. Icy quickly smiled at her. “It's okay, don't worry about it, no harm done!” She said truthfully - there probably wouldn’t even be a bruise and she could hardly blame Twist for the collision. “It's alright.” “No, it'th not!” Twist blurted out before shrinking back. “Thorry, it'th jutht... I don't know what'th wrong with me lately” She trailed off before looking at the floor. “And now I've ruined a whole tray of lemon dropth.” Icy's ears perked up unbidden. How Pinkie had known that lemon drops were her favourite sweets, she neither could nor wanted to know. She forced her ears down, though – she had no idea why Twist was this overwrought, but she couldn't help but want to comfort her. Plus, there were lemon drops on the line. She put her hoof on Twist's shoulder. “Tell you what, let's clean these up and then I'll help you make some more. Maybe we can get Truffle to help.” The corner of Twist’s lip twitched upward for a moment at the mention of Truffle - something Icy thought might happen, even if she wasn’t sure why. Twist put her hoof behind her glasses to wipe away the beginnings of tears. “R-really? No, that'th okay. Thith ith your party, you know.” Icy glanced aside at the massive crowd. “I'll... I think I'll be okay.” Together, they gathered up the scattered candies and took them to the nearest bin – back behind the storefront next to the stairs. Icy put her hoof down on the pedal, opening it up. She was about to drop the drops in before she noticed something. “Pinkie?” She called out. “Yeppers?” Barely phased at this point by Pinkie’s instant appearance, Icy pointed inside the bin. “What’s that red powder?” Sure enough, a small amount of that same red powder was sitting in there. Not much, but enough to recognize. “Dunno!” Pinkie chirped. “I came down last night for a twenty-three-to-midnight snack and stepped on something long and squishy. I couldn't see what it was - at first I thought it was one of Gummy's friends, but when I looked down, it was gone, and that powder was there. So, I picked it up, smelled it, tasted it, it wasn't nice, it tasted like...” Icy had stopped listening. Twenty-three to... Eleven Thirty-Seven. That was before her encounter with the robber. Nothing here had been stolen... and she did say she'd have to cut that night short... maybe she was scoping this place out before she... “Pinkie?” She asked slowly. “...an acceleration of around two hundred and forty metres per second per second... yes?” “This may sound strange, but... Do you think me and... some friends could help you clean up and maybe... stay the night?” Icy sighed as the clock struck midnight. “You know, I kinda didn't think a stakeout would be this, well...” “Boring?” Archer suggested. The two of them, along with Truffle and Lance were sitting on the stairs to Sugarcube Corner's second floor, peeking over the bannister and keeping an eye on the storefront. Dinky and Scootaloo had had to go home and Alula said she preferred to stay hidden from their enemies as long as she could. Icy shifted her haunch, the stair she was sitting on horizontally not being the most comfortable seat she'd ever had. “Well, yeah. I mean, don't ponies on stakeouts usually play cards or have snacks or...” She tailed off, realizing how much she sounded like a naïve fantasist. Truffle chuckled. “Sometimes, but we're not in a great position for that kind of thing, I fear. Of course, I'm positive Mr and Mrs Cake predicted the need for comfortable stakeouts when they designed their bakery, but...” “Okay, okay, sorry.” Icy interrupted. The sarcasm hadn't been malicious, but she still felt awkward because of it. “Plus,” Truffle continued, “I don’t think they’d appreciate us eating their snacks without paying. Of course, if we could… oh my!” Icy looked up the stairs to see him patting his belly, a dreamy look on his face. Of course, she’d had to strain her neck a little - because Truffle and Lance’s suits were so bright, they were high up on the staircase, past the ceiling of the ground floor so that no one could see them from outside. It was dark enough that they probably wouldn’t, but it was better not to take that chance. It helped that Icy’s pale coat and Archer’s dark-blue ensemble would blend in more, so they could be lower down. A thought occurred to Icy. “Hey, Truffle, Lance? Why are your suits so brightly coloured anyway? They do kind of stick out.” “Well, of course. That’s the point.” Truffle replied. “On a mission requiring stealth, like this one, it’s not ideal, but we’ve already seen that this filly has enough power that it’s better to have the protection. And if it does come down to a fight, then we’ll be the ones on the front lines. We want as much of the enemy’s attention on us as possible. Icy nodded. “Oh, I get it. Is that why Lance wears his fancy hat and scarf as well? She looked up to see slight movement behind Lance’s mask in the eyebrow area. He shook his head firmly, not seeming to like the implication. Icy frowned in confusion. “So, then… why do you wear them?” Lance looked to the side for a moment in thought before turning back to Icy and tapping his chest, asking her to try and punch him. Shrugging, Icy trotted up the stairs, pulled her hoof back and went to strike him - not too hard, but enough to notice through his padding. In a flurry of motion, Lance whipped his hat off his head and, holding it by the feather, put it between him and Icy. Despite seeming like an ordinary, floppy hat a second ago, Icy felt as if she’d just punched an iron plate. The hat’s fabric deformed slightly under her strike, but didn’t bend back. Before Icy had time to process this, Lance pulled off his scarf and, picking up Icy’s other front hoof, tied them together in a split second. Icy tugged at her bonds, falling onto her chest as she did so, but it felt like the scarf’s materials were far stronger than they looked. Icy blinked, nonplussed. “Well... that answers that, I guess.” Lance nodded firmly before freeing Icy’s hooves and re-donning his hat and scarf. Icy trotted back down to sit next to Archer, eyes still a little wide at what had just happened. “By the way,” Archer whispered, making sure Lance couldn’t hear her, "making ‘em look like something out of a Flyin Arrow film was my idea. Thought it’d be fun.” Icy exhaled in relief - now things made… a little more sense. After a minute or so, she exhaled longer. “And now I’m bored again.” “We could always play I Spy again.” Archer suggested, smirking. Icy rolled her eyes. There was no shortage of variety for the game, so it wasn't as boring as its reputation suggested. The problem was that, when your opponent is sharp-eyed enough to unerringly follow your eyeline and guess before you'd given the clue, it rather took the fun out of the game. Still, Archer's observational skills did come in handy, as she straightened up and looked out at the storefront. “Hold it!” she whispered. “We've got incoming.” The others all looked out at the front window, Lance and Truffle slowly poking their heads beneath the ceiling. A filly-sized silhouette hovered in front of the glass for a few seconds before backing up. Then, a cut started appearing in the glass, making a large circle, seemingly of its own volition. “What's...” Icy began. “A hair.” Archer replied – even she was squinting in order to see it. “A single hair.” Looking again, Icy could just make out one strand of hair, apparently thin and strong enough to act as a glass cutter. Soon, the circle was complete, and a few more hairs slipped through the cracks. However, they didn’t seem like they’d be enough to lift the circle out of the window. “So,” Icy muttered to herself, “if that's what she does, where does all that brok-” Without warning, more hairs started slicing the cut-out circle of glass, dividing it into smaller pieces that fell into the mass of hair. Many fell further, slipping through the gaps and breaking on the floor, on both sides of the window, but many others were caught and deposited carefully on the ground. In a few seconds, all the glass had been deposited on the ground in one way or another and the way through the window was clear, the figure floating through with an off-key chuckle. “Well, that answers that.” Icy mumbled. The figure floated over the counter and disappeared into the bakery's kitchen. The four on the stairs looked to each other, nodded and snuck after her, taking care not to make any noise (Not an easy feat for a colt in full fencing gear and another who was, in his own words, tremendously fat). As they reached the kitchen, they saw the figure ransacking the cupboards. It seemed she was looking for something specific, although what she hoped to find in a bakery, Icy couldn't imagine. The other three straightened up, Archer and Lance drawing their weapons and Truffle rolling his joints, ready for a fight. Icy decided it'd be best to do the same, though how, she wasn't sure. After a second, she settled for flaring her wings and preparing to gather her energy, however that worked. Without verbal warning, Lance reached over and flicked the lights on, not taking his sword away from pointing at the figure. With the lights on, they could see their opponent. At first, they just saw a wall of green hair before the filly's body was spun round to face them, confirming what they suspected. From the purple-and-gold bodysuit to the light purple coat to the insane grin, the filly was the image of the Mane-iac but for her age and her eyes, and the latter was only because of her goggles making them look slightly bigger. She floated up higher, looking down at her opponents. “You again?!” she exclaimed. “And more of you? You dare tangle with the Mane-iac?” Archer looked her over. “Miniac, more like. And yes, yes we do.” The costumed filly looked down over her form. “Whatever you want to call me... Utterly irrelevant.” Her speech seemed far smoother than it had the previous night, but she still occasionally halted before speaking. “After all, you'll be out of my mane in only a moment.” Without warning, tendrils of hair surged forward at the group. They scattered out of the way, but the kitchen, big as it was, didn't leave them much room to manoeuvre. Only Lance remained untouched, slashing off any hair that came near him. As more came towards him, he grabbed his scarf and threw it up like a whip. The scarf stretched as he did so and wrapped around the room’s light socket. Lance then darted off to the side and, keeping hold of the taut scarf, slowly ran up onto the wall. He circled around the room before getting high enough to leap on top of a high cupboard, crouching and preparing to defend his position. Icy fared less impressively - she managed to freeze a few tendrils, but she wasn't as experienced as the others and quickly got swamped, her wings immobilized and unable to create more freezing winds. The other two did slightly better. Archer dodged around and managed to remain free enough to fire some shots, but this Miniac was prepared, coils of hair smashing the arrows mid-flight. As for Truffle... “BANZAI!” The overweight colt had climbed onto a tabletop and, with the agility of someone half his size, leapt straight at the villain, apparently reasoning that he would be too heavy for her hair to deflect. Unfortunately, the large sack she picked up with it was a bit sturdier. She swung with it, connecting and knocking him back like a baseball. A cloud of sugar was kicked up as the sack burst on impact and the thick tendril holding it was knocked back just as hard, throwing the filly off balance and letting the pressure of her grip loosen a little around Icy. As Truffle got up and the others dodged and struggled, the wall of hair picked up several more sacks before charging out into the storefront, its body in tow. “Hold it!” Archer called out, leaping from the kitchen and nocking another arrow “Don't you get it?! You're mere children!” The Mini-Mane-iac sneered, not seeming to notice the hypocrisy. “You don't have a chance! You are but dandruff before me! You-” The lights in the bakery’s storefront clicked on, revealing Pinkie Pie at the top of the stairs. Furthermore, now that the filly had paused, they could hear sirens, distant but getting closer. “...have got me monologuing.” She finished - blaming her opponents for her own grandiosity seemed instinctive. “Very good. Bordering on clever. But unfortunately for you...” Her hair retreated, unlocking the door and rushing through it with the big sacks of sugar that were apparently her goal. “...I'm hair today, gone tomorroooooooow.” With that, her body was pulled through the door and up to the rooftops at immense speed, to be long gone by the time anyone could reach her. The group sat there, pondering what had just happened as Pinkie descended the stairs and joined them. “What a weird filly.” She said with no irony whatsoever. “I mean, wow, who'd have thought the Mane-ia-.” “Not necessarily.” Archer interrupted smoothly. “She's got the look and the power, but there are a couple of things she missed. It's... probably a copycat.” “Nopey-dopey!” Pinkie shook her head. “That's the Mane-iac, alright. I'd recognise that voice anywhere. I mean, it wasn't a filly's voice last time I heard it, and now that I think of it, she wasn't a filly at all, but other than that... yeah, the voice, the tone, the cadence, all the same.” Icy wasn't sure what Princess Cadance had to do with it, but still listened. “How do you... I mean, she's a comic book character, how could you hear her?” Pinkie smiled as a policepony poked his head round the door, switching off the siren on his back. “Maybe you should talk to the local expert on the Power Ponies.” She said, smiling in what she must have thought was a mysterious way. Author's Note So, time to go on about a pet peeve of mine, so feel free to skip this: it always bugs me a little when you have ponies that are meant to represent or reference real people (or, for that matter, people from other fictional works) and their names are just that person's real name with a pony pun in it. Oh, don't get me wrong, it can work if one is clever with it* - heck, I've used them myself a few times. But, even when they are amusing and don't stick out too much, they do kind of break the rules of the world. We know how pony names are supposed to be constructed - an ordinary word or two, usually a noun, noun phrase or including a noun and usually in some way connected or alluding to that pony's abilities, personality or background. Names like Svengallop or, to use an example I've done, Isaac Neighton... do not fit with this. I get what it's going for, but for me, it always feels more cohesive with the world, as well as more interesting, to take their name and try to turn it into a name that an ordinary pony might have. So, to use the one in this chapter for an example, while Barrel Flynn or Errol Whinny might have been a little more clear, I think Flyin Arrow works because it sounds both like the real name and like a pony name. Of course, you may disagree with me completely, but that's how I feel. And rest assured, these diatribes aren't going to be a regular feature of these stories' author's notes - just figured this one was kind of relevant. *even if the ones the show does are something a little odd - JK Rowling? Seriously? Yes, she's a writer that kids might know, but that's about the only thing she has in common with Daring
Chapter 3: Expertise and Its Downsides“The castle...” Icy muttered to herself, still in awe. The giant crystal structure was a constant sight in Ponyville, its tips viewable from nearly anywhere in Town. Icy had passed it a number of times since she'd moved here. And, sure, she'd assumed she was probably going to go inside at some point, probably for a school trip or something, but so soon? And on “Official Business” to boot? She couldn't have expected that. As such, she was practically skipping down the street in excitement. Neither of her companions seemed to notice, of course – Scootaloo was busy moaning about how slow they were going, her wings buzzing intermittently and making her scooter leap forward sporadically – apparently slowness wasn't easy for her – and Alula? Well, she probably did notice Icy, but since her expression was as blank as ever, it was hard to tell. Icy looked up, seeing the castle nearing. To be honest, she didn't know why the Princess would know that much about the Power Ponies. I mean, yeah, she was a princess and a librarian, so she probably knew everything about everything anyway, but Icy had assumed she'd have better things to worry about. She looked up at the town clock tower. It was about 4:30, the time Pinkie had told them to arrive. For some reason, the boisterous mare had been tight-lipped about the meeting after Icy had mentioned meeting the princess, only giggling a little and sending them on their way. Icy didn't understand it, but since that seemed to apply to ninety percent of everything Pinkie said or did, it didn't bother her. As they neared the door, Icy scampered ahead of Scootaloo (a rare occurrence in itself) and gave a sharp knock on the door, hearing it echo around the crystalline structure. Of course, with as big as it was, it'd probably be a while before anyone... “Hello? Oh, hey there!” Icy shook her head and looked up at the pony had opened the door, only to find either someone invisible or no one. Confused, she looked down, only to be startled to find someone at her eye level. She was further surprised as she looked at him to find he was a small dragon. She blinked hard, resisting the urge to facehoof. Right, of course, her pet dragon. She'd seen him a couple of times accompanying the Princess on... Princess-stuff, she assumed, but hadn't paid him much mind. In fact, as she was rapidly realizing, she didn't even know his name. “Hey, Spike!” Scootaloo greeted him, saving Icy from the terrifying spectre of social awkwardness. She finished chaining up her scooter and joined her in front of the door “You got a moment?” “Sure, c'mon in.” Spike stood aside, holding the door open as the three fillies entered. He led them down a hallway and Icy had to stop herself from gaping at the crystal walls, else she might have lost them in the palace's corridors. “Good thing you came when you did – I've just started my break and I was afraid Twi'd call me back any minute. But now I got an excuse to take as long as I like.” Spike continued with a chuckle. Icy was about to point out that Pinkie had suggested when to come before what Spike said registered. “Wait, you've been working for her?” She asked. “On a Sunday?” “Pft, yeah,” Spike waved a hand dismissively as he opened a door with the other, “as if I'd let Twi reorganize the fiction section on her own.” He paused before muttering darkly. “Again.” Icy was about to ask about that when she realized they'd stopped. She looked around at the room they'd come to, which appeared to be... a bedroom. With a small wardrobe, a bed with a small lump under the covers and a bookcase full of comics. The sort of room she could appreciate, she had to admit, but... “Where's the Princess?” She asked. “The Library.” Spike, Scootaloo and Alula answered in unison. Spike continued, apparently not thinking the question odd. “So, what's up?” Icy was about to say something else when Alula pre-empted her. “Well, you're something of an expert on the Power Ponies, correct?” Oh. He's the expert. Icy tried not to let her expression wilt. She didn't do a very good job of it. Not that anyone seemed to notice. Scootaloo and Alula were facing away from her and Spike... well, the smile on his face and his starry eyes seemed to indicate he wasn't paying much attention to her at that point. “Well, I dunno about “expert”, but I've got so many issues... did you want to borrow the latest issue? It's really, cool, see the Mad Thespian's got this device that...” Icy tried. She really tried to contain it. But, as Spike's recounting of the story accelerated, a tiny sound escaped her mouth. Tsk. She paused, only then realizing she was in the middle of rolling her eyes, to notice everyone now staring at her. “...sorry.” She said, hoping they wouldn't linger on her reaction. No such luck. “It's quite alright – do you have a problem, Icy?” Alula asked, oblivious to Icy's silent pleas to drop the subject. “No, no, no problem.” Icy replied, a brittle smile on her face. Spike giggled. “It's fine, I know comics aren't for everyone...” “No, that's not it, I love comics!” Icy interrupted, her enthusiasm for the subject giving her enough energy to speak and enough momentum not to stop before saying: “I just never liked the Power Ponies. They always seemed kinda lame.” Spike couldn't have looked more shocked if she'd slapped him in the face with his rarest issue. “Lame? How... How could you... how are they lame?” Icy continued, unaware of how rapidly Spike's face was falling. “Well, I mean, not all of them – there've been some good stories and I kinda like Marevolous, but, like... So Zapp's got weather control and Radiance has got constructs? Well, wow, get a few pegasi or a decently trained unicorn and they can show you those “Powers”. And Matterhorn? She's got energy blasts, but that's it – when you think about it, she's less powerful than some unicorns. Or at least less versatile” Spike's face had, at this point, gone past horror and was now shifting into anger. “What about Filly Second and Saddle Rager? They've got cool powers!” “Yeah, when the writers let them use them!” Icy answered obliviously. “I mean, yeah, there's some interesting stuff you could do with them, sure, but every story, they have to come up with some reason why Filly Second can't just super speed the baddie away or Rager can't just thump them into...” “That's a bunch of horseapples!” Spike interrupted. Icy flinched back, flashed back to the stuff she'd read about dragons and suddenly remembered that, baby or not, she was still talking to a clawed, fire-breathing reptile who could bathe in molten lava. “So the writers like to be creative and don't want every villain to be taken down easily, so what? It's still one of the best comics out there!” Icy's fear was then forgotten as quickly as it had come – no way was she going to let that one slide. “No, it isn't! What about...” Fifty minutes later... “...and his son from another bad future... how can you keep track of all that continuity?” “It's not that bad. I mean, if you look at Lane Moor's run on it...” “Oh, geez!” “What? You got a problem with Lane Moor?” “Nah, it's just people always bring him up. Well, him and a few others – Nail Game, Warren Ales, Art Spigot – as if they're the only ones who write comics worth reading.” “Okay, guess so, but what about Waymark or Cut Brick or...” “SHUUUUUUUUUT UUUUUUUUP!” Icy and Spike turn their heads, their ears (Or side-head-spines in Spike's case) nearly brushing against each other after how in-each-other's-faces they were. To the side, they saw Scootaloo, her head hanging upside-down from the bed, looking bored out of her wits. Her hooves idly played with a white plushie that had presumably been under the covers. To her side, Alula was curled up, her eyes staring, unblinking. It took Icy a moment to realize that those weren't eyes, they were here eyelids shape-shifted to look like open eyes. Scootaloo huffed, bringing attention back to her. “You guys have been arguing for, like, hours or something! Can't you just give it a rest?” Icy and Spike backed away from each other a step. Each pointed a hoof or claw at the other. “But he said...” “But she said...” “I don't care!” Scootaloo yelled. “We came here for a reason, you know, and I dunno about you, but I don't wanna be here all day while you argue about nerdstuff, got it?” Icy and Spike's collective anger at the slur against comics died on their tongue as they looked at each other out of the corner of their eyes, realizing just what they'd been doing and how long they'd been doing it. They turned to each other again. “I'm sorry!” They said in unison before realizing they had and letting out a similarly-unified giggle. “Sorry about that,” Spike began, rubbing his arm awkwardly, “I just get a bit...” “No, it's fine,” Icy replied, looking away with her front hooves crossed. “I shouldn't have got so...” “Yeah, great, he's sorry, she's sorry, I'm sorry I had to listen to that, everyone's sorry!” Scootaloo interjected sharply. “Now can we please get on with what we came here to do?” Icy turned to Scootaloo, nodding. “Yeah, I guess we should...” she stopped as she noticed Alula again. “Didn't she wake up when you were shouting?” Scootaloo smirked. “Nah, Alula could sleep through a tornado. I mean, I'm pretty sure she has. But watch this!” Grinning evilly, Scootaloo slowly extended a hoof to Alula's sleeping body. When it was a couple of centimeters away from her coat, Scootaloo suddenly pressed it firmly into Alula's stomach. “Boop!” The effect was immediate – Alula's faux-eyes snapped up to reveal her real eyes (a sight that was not as disturbing as Icy felt it should have been) and she leapt a good three feet into the air, before landing on the footboard of the bed. Her body was angled away from the offending hoof, fur on end like a cat on the edge of a bathtub. After a moment of no threats becoming obvious, Alula relaxed slightly. She looked down, seeing Icy's surprise, Spike's snickering and an expression on Scootaloo's face so innocent you could practically see the halo. Alula's eyes narrowed. “You saw nothing.” “...and then Fluttershy was all like “RARGH, Fluttershy smash!” and took out the...” Icy smiled as she listened to Spike's recounting of events. Even if she didn't share his opinions, it was kind of fun to see just how excited he'd get about it. The story itself, on the other hand, she was a bit iffy on. After they told him who they had encountered, he'd starting telling them a story about him and his friends being sucked into a comic book and meeting the Mane-iac. Normally, she'd have dismissed it instantly as just an overactive imagination talking. Heck, if Pinkie had been the one to say it, she'd probably barely even listen. This may have been the reason she'd sent them to Spike. On the other hand, it did explain an awful lot. And Pinkie had sounded pretty certain that it was the same pony. Which, given what Icy had seen of her so far, might not have meant anything, but the others had assured her Pinkie wasn't that kind of crazy. Furthermore, looking over the comics Spike had foisted upon them, the similarities were uncanny. Other than the obvious age difference and some slight variation in the costume, such as the addition of goggles, the character on the page was nearly identical to filly they'd seen the previous night. The coat was precisely the same shade of purple, the mane the same green, the face the same shape, the expression the same demented glee. Even the way her hair moved and fought from panel to panel seemed the same. Overall, if you ripped the character off the page, made her 3d and shrunk her down to a filly... well, Spike would probably be mad you'd ripped up his comic and you would get the pony they'd fought. It was far too uncannily similar to be a mere copycat. As unbelievable as it was, it seemed that they really were dealing with the comic book character come to life. Which should have been impossible, but then, Icy was talking to a two foot tall dragon, so who was she to judge? “So,” Alula's voice broke Icy out of her thoughts, “we appear to have the real Mane-iac on our hooves here.” “Miniac!” Scootaloo corrected, having taken a liking to Archer's nickname. “She's the Miniac!” She was still pouting – she'd been offended when she was told that Rainbow Dash wasn't Filly Second in the comic universe. She'd been mollified somewhat by the suggestion that maybe whoever decided the roles couldn't make her any faster than she already was, but it still seemed to bug her. Alula nodded. “Very well, that would seem to be a useful way to distinguish this version. My point remains – it's definitely her.” “I don't see why not.” Spike said. “I mean, if there's an enchanted comic that can suck ponies in, why couldn't there be one that lets characters out?” “Wait,” Icy spoke up, having kept quiet for the most part (partially for fear of starting another argument), “you said a guy sold you an enchanted comic?” “Yep!” Spike nodded. “Isn't that, like,... illegal?” Icy asked. “Nope!” “...” “...” “...Okay then.” “If she did come out of a comic book,” Spike continued after the awkward pause, “it was probably one of his, come to think of it. I mean, I don't think he'd sell one that's dangerous, but maybe it... escaped or something.” “Comic books can't escape, Spike.” Alula pointed out, frowning slightly. Spike shrugged. “Neither can comic book characters.” Alula sighed. “Point.” “If you want, I can ask him – I'm going up to Canterlot on Tuesday with Twi, and I was going to stop by anyway to get my monthly pull.” He stopped, suddenly considering something. “I was going to get it last week, but the place was closed. You don't think...” “He's probably out looking for it.” Spike nodded. “Maybe. Still, I can see if I can track him down and ask.” “That would be helpful.” Alula nodded. “In the meantime, is there anything you can tell us about the Mane-iac.” Spike thought for a moment, the side of his mouth pulling back in consideration. “Not sure, most of it you probably already know – she's one of the worst villains out there.” Icy's mouth instinctively opened to dispute this, but her brain just about managed to get ahead of it and closed it again. “Don't underestimate her – she's a genius with gadgets and machines, she's an amazing fighter with her hair and she's totally insane. If she thinks she can do something, she probably can and she definitely would.” “But she is still a literal cartoon character.” Alula said quietly. Spike chuckled. “Oh yeah, she's not the most subtle villain. She loves grandstanding, traps and big weapons – freeze rays, mind control devices, weather machines... “Lasers...” Everyone else went silent and looked at Icy as she realized she'd said that out loud. After a moment, Spike nodded. “Yeah, Lasers are definitely her thing. Why... Why did you say...?” “I was just thinking about the things she's stolen.” Icy said, hesitant to speak her thoughts for fear of being laughed at. “An oven, a bunch of lenses and a few bags of sugar.” Scootaloo rattled off, apparently having been taken out of her boredom and invigorated by the mention of lasers. “Weird bunch of stuff, now you mention it, but...” “A big, hot bulb,” Icy said, gaining some confidence in her theory, “lenses to focus to the light and sugar.” “Sugar?” Alula questioned, sounding like she was giving the thought serious consideration. “What would that...?” “Energy.” Icy knew enough about chemistry to know that. “A lot of energy.” Alula's eyes widened. “Weird way to go about it, but...” Icy nodded. “And if she’s used to comic book science…” Alula nodded. “Possible.” There was silence for a few seconds as everyone considered the possibilities. By the looks on there faces, it didn't seem an enticing prospect. For most of them, at least – the hint of a grin on Scootaloo's face gave the impression worry wasn't the only emotion lasers invoked. “Right.” Spike said eventually. “Don't know what else to tell you... she's got a heck of an ego, so you could try using that.” “Yeah, I noticed that.” Icy said. “She started ranting and yelling and...” She waved her hooves in a vague imitation of the grandiose gestures the Miniac had given, letting them finish her sentence for her. Spike smiled. “Yeah, she's pretty smug and overconfident. If she thinks she's better than you, she'll let you know it. And she thinks she's better than everyone.” “Thank you.” Alula said, standing up. “You've been... less helpful than I'd hoped, but still quite helpful. But we should probably be going.” “Thanks... I think.” Spike said, walking to the door and opening it. “I should probably go help Twi again.” A muffled thump came from somewhere in the castle. “Definitely should help Twi again.” Spike amended without missing a beat. “If you find anything out or think of anything else, let us know.” Alula said, giving Spike a small smile. “Will do.” Alula went to walk out before Scootaloo rushed through the door ahead of her, as if the “nerdiness” in the room had been physically suffocating her. Alula shook her head slightly and followed. Icy went to leave as well, but stopped at the door, turning around. Seeing her out of the corner of his eye, Spike paused in his task of putting his plushie back to bed and turned to her. “Something you need?” Icy took a moment before responding. “Thank you, Spike.” Spike waved a claw. “Hey, I'm just happy to help.” “You know,” Icy said, pausing for a moment as if considering something before smirking, “Hum Drum Returns was pretty awesome. It took Spike a second to realize what she was saying before a grin spread over his face. “Well, yeah. Obviously.” His smile then turned into a frown. “Shame about French Mill's later stuff.” “Yeah.” They gave a collective shudder before Icy waved and closed the door behind her. Fortunately, she could still hear Scootaloo and Alula talking, else she was worried she'd get lost in the halls of the crystal palace. After a minute or so, she caught up with them. “So, we now know what we're up against, at least.” “Yeah, no thanks to you.” Scootaloo muttered, not quite quiet enough for Icy to miss it. “What do you mean?” Icy asked, slightly distressed by the resentment she'd heard in that comment. Scootaloo's eyes widened as she realized she'd been heard before quickly becoming contrite. “Sorry, sorry, I shouldn't have said that! I'm... I'm real sorry.” Icy breathed a sigh of relief that Scootaloo didn't hate her. “That's okay... I guess, but what did you...” She thought back over the conversation. “I don't think I did anything to stop us learning stuff, did I?” Scootaloo shook her head as they exited the castle's front doors. “Nah, not really, we did learn what we needed to... eventually.” She sighed, seeming to resign herself to brutal honesty. “After you guys spent ages shouting at each other over stuff no one cares about.” “We care about it.” Icy mumbled. It was a token protest, though – she couldn't really defend her actions from an mission-efficiency standpoint. “Of course you do. And it did no harm in the end.” Alula said, giving a mildly disapproving look. Though whether it was for her, Scootaloo or both was unclear. “Still, I will admit that whole argument was... somewhat less than fun.” “Speak for yourself!” Icy said, now smiling as she thought back to the debate. “I had a blast!” She kept walking for a few steps before she realized the others weren't next to her anymore. She looked over her shoulder to see them paused mid-stride, looking at her in surprise and confusion. She raised an eyebrow. “What?” Author's Note Incidentally, if you had absolutely no idea what and who Icy and Spike were talking about in their argument... well, then you're in pretty much the same boat as Alula and Scoots, so... operating as intended? Also, it should be noted that said argument was not intended as an indictment of Power Ponies, either the in-universe comic or the episode, nor was Icy intended as a mouthpiece. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't underwhelmed by the episode, but that was not the intent. It's simply that, since I'd established Icy as a fan of comics and Spike is canonically one, I thought it'd be fun to have them get into a little fan-argument. Also Also, since this chapter is somewhat light on plot, I was considering releasing Chapter 4 at the same time. If you think I should release it early, let me know in the comments.
Chapter 4: Finding the Root of the ProblemThe next couple of days passed uneventfully in terms of super-villainous activity, with no major actions from the Miniac nor any reported sightings of her. Which, the team agreed, almost certainly meant that she hadn't done anything – as Spike had said, the demented filly was many things, but subtle was not one of them. Of course, neither was she stupid. It seemed likely that she was lying low for a couple of days, now that she knew that somepony was onto her. Admittedly, Iota Force would freely admit that they were no Power Ponies - though whether that meant better or worse varied depending on who you asked - but the Miniac didn't know that. And even if she did, being reduced to a filly, however that worked, probably made her a bit wary of attracting their attention. Fortunately, their enemy not knowing their capabilities meant they could use them to their advantage. In particular, after informing the rest of the group that this was probably the real Mane-iac rather than a copycat (though Archer still seemed unsure), they realized that whatever magic created her would probably be fairly distinctive. Thus, it was possible that they could use the Aetheroscope to track her down. As such, they made sure at least two ponies were always at Pip's house (outside of School hours, of course), keeping an eye on the scope as it passively scanned Ponyville. Tuesday evening, it finally found something anomalous. Unfortunately... “Whaddaya mean it vanished?” Scootaloo's voice came over the badge. Icy paused – since she didn't have a costume yet beyond her badge, she was ready to go the moment the call came that they'd found something. After finishing the page she was on and bookmarking it, of course. Unfortunately, in that brief time, a second call came over cancelling the alert. She'd paused, body still tensed to glide out of the window, her badge still held over her chest as Pip's voice now came over hesitantly. “Er... I mean, well... I mean it vanished. It was there one moment and gone the next. Vanished.” “Yeah, thanks, Mr Dictionary, I know what “vanish” means!” Scootaloo replied testily. “But how?” “I don't know!” Pipsqueak yelled back, exasperated, his volume causing his voice to crackle. “It just popped up for a few minutes and then went away again. “You sure it was the pony we're looking for?” Archer's voice came over, as unbothered as ever. Icy relaxed and climbed back onto her bed, placing the badge in front of her. “Well, it wasn't a kind of magic the scope had seen before,” Pip replied, “so I don't know what else it could have been. Hold on a mo'” There was a pause before Pip continued. “Lance says that maybe she's got some way to hide herself most of the time.” Another pause. “She might only show up when she's...” there was another pause and, weirdly enough, Icy could almost hear Lance shrug, “doing something maybe, I dunno, but once she stopped doing it, she went dark. I know it's not much help, but...” “Not none, though.” Alula interjected. “That might indicate that, whatever she was doing, it was quick and contained in a small area.” There was a pause before Archer piped up again. “Lotta mights and maybes in all that.” “Where did you pick up the magic?” Truffle said. “Somewhere around Sweet Apple Acres, looked like.” Truffle hummed worriedly. Which, considering that he would have had to press the comms button on the badge for them to hear him, meant he really wanted them to know he was worried. “Couldn't narrow it down any more?” “Hey, you know it's not an exact science.” Pip answered in a slightly martyred tone. “It didn't come up long enough to get anything more.” There was a pause before Dinky, who'd been quiet up until then, spoke up. “So, what do we do?” “Don't see as there's much we can do for the moment.” Truffle said. “We'll just have to wait and see if she shows up again.” Icy frowned. She'd been hesitant to speak up as well, knowing that she was the least experienced among them, but she had to ask. “Really? Couldn't we rush there and try to intercept her?” She assumed there was some reason why they couldn't that she didn't know, hence why she hadn't gotten up yet. Sure enough, Alula replied. “It doesn't work like that. The scope has a small delay in it – it takes about ten seconds to sort through all the things it sees and even then it’s only a vague area. Can’t narrow it down without more time to filter through things.” Icy tilted her head at the badge in front of her. “Well, we could at least look around the area, couldn't we? See if we find anything useful?” There was another pause before Dinky spoke again. “Er, Icy, he said it was somewhere in Sweet Apple Acres.” “Not necessarily in, either.” Alula followed up. “Around there.” Icy thought for a moment before answering. “Is that big?” “Icy,” Alula replied evenly, “what's the third word in its name.” Icy hovered her hoof over the badge as she counted. “Sweet apple...” She stopped and pushed the button to talk. “Oh. Sorry.” “Don't worry,” Dinky said quickly, her tone cheerful and encouraging, “you haven't been in Ponyville long, it's okay that you didn't know.” “Nor about the Scope's delay – I'd have said the same.” Truffle added. Icy smiled, though she was glad the others couldn't see it, as it didn't quite reach her eyes. “Thanks.” The others then started talking, arranging things about who was going to have monitor duty next and why Truffle wanted be elsewhere much of the time, but Icy didn't listen. It had already been decided that she wouldn't be asked until she was a bit more familiar with how the scope worked. Which hurt a bit, if she was honest with herself, but she couldn't exactly argue with their logic. Plus, spending ages staring at a screen couldn't be that fun. She placed her badge back on her bedside table and returned to her comic, still feeling very silly about her suggestion. Fortunately, if there's one thing comic books are good for, it's putting “being silly” into perspective. In this case, the hero had just used his spider-tracers to locate the Silver Cyclone's hideout and, of course, it was under a ferris wheel in a New Pork City fairground. Icy wasn't sure how the tracers interacted with his Spider Sense or how a schoolpig had invented such technology, of course. Still, at least he can track his enemies down right. She sighed. But it's not like there are any abandoned shampoo factories or complexes under barbers' shops our enemy can use for a hideout. She blinked a couple of times. Hideout... She thought for a while, letting the comic fall closed. It was Thursday afternoon when they caught a trace of her again. This time, it was sticking around and moving fast. “Somewhere to the east of Ponyville.” Truffle's voice came over the speakers. “Okay, I'm going that way now.” Dinky's voice came over. There was a moment's silence. “Um... which way is east again?” “Other side from school.” Pip replied. Icy pressed her hoof to the badge. “Do you want me there as well?” “Don't worry,” Scootaloo said, “I'm passing by your place anyway, I'll pick you up.” “Okay,” Icy replied, “when are you going to get here?” “Round about now.” Icy heard the sound of a braking scooter outside her window. “Okay.” She said to herself before going to the window. She paused, realizing she'd done so without thinking before turning around and going out through the door. “Mom,” she called as she went, “can I head out for a while?” “Sure, Sweetie, see you later!” Sunny called back. Icy reached the front door, having not even paused while asking. She opened it to see Scootaloo, tapping her hind hoof against her scooter and looking up at Icy's window. In the trailer sat Archer, who caught sight of her and beckoned her over with her head. Giggling silently to herself, Icy trotted over, making sure to keep out of Scootaloo's line of sight. She clambered quietly onto the trailer before speaking up. “What are you looking for, Scoot?” To her credit, Scootaloo mostly managed to stop herself from jumping, but as she whipped her head round, it was obvious she was startled. “N... Nothing, let's go, no time to lose!” She said quickly, revving her wings and speeding off before Icy could say anything else. Though not fast enough to escape her and Archer's laughter. Though she was a bit more used to transportation by pre-pubescent speed demon now, Icy was still caught somewhat off-guard by the sudden acceleration. Fortunately, Archer was a bit more prepared, activating her badge. “Got a better trace yet, guys?” “Kinda-sorta-not-really.” Pip replied. “It's moving, and at a fair old clip, too. Looks like it was on the Roaman High Road, but it's going north, now.” Taking a deep breath, Icy pressed her own badge, fully prepared to say something silly again. “Is that... is she going to Sweet Apple Acres again?” There was no answer for a moment, but Icy had barely started her self-reproach before Truffle answered. “She's certainly moving in that direction. And I don't think there's much else she could want... do you think...” “She could have a hideout there. Maybe.” Icy said, starting to smile. “Possible. Large enough area, could go to and from there without being spotted, could find somewhere to store stolen things... definitely possible.” She heard Alula say, her speech far faster than normal. “Okay,” Scootaloo yelled over her shoulder, “I'm going to try to head 'er off, tell Pip and Truff to tell me where to go!” Icy was about to ask why she couldn't do so herself before she looked over and saw both of Scootaloo's hooves on her handlebars. Probably best not to take them off to activate her own comms. As Archer did as she was asked, Scootaloo added: “Good thinking, there, Icy!” Icy blushed a little, but smiled nevertheless. “You sure this is the place?” Scootaloo asked, looking around. The place Truffle and Pip had guided them to seemed to be nothing more than a standard area of the orchard, trees stretching out into the distance in every direction. Of course, there might have been other things in the vicinity, but the amount of trees meant that visibility along the ground was fairly short and upward visibility was almost zero. “Sure as I can be.” Pip replied over the badges. “She got to that area a couple of minutes ago, then disappeared again.” “You mean she beat me here?” Scootaloo asked, frowning at the possibility. “Well,” Truffle said quickly, “She did have quite a head start and took a more direct route. Relax – she was going fast, but not as fast as you.” As transparent an attempt as it was to placate her, the answer did seem to calm Scootaloo down. Or at least bring her irritation to a mild simmer from a rolling boil that threatened to blow the lid off. “Anyway,” Pip said after a brief pause, “is there anything around you can see that she might have been using as a hideout?” “Not from the ground. Hang on, I'll take a higher look.” Archer said before casually hopping up and grabbing the nearest branch that could support her. She quickly pulled herself onto the branch and hopped up out of sight. This meant that she didn't notice the faces of her friends – the two pegasi she hadn't even considered asking to fly up and take a look. Not that either of them could have obliged such a request, they knew that, but it still hurt. “Nearest thing's a barn about a hundred yards that wa... hold on,” Archer leapt down to the ground, seemingly unbothered by the distance. She pointed a hoof to the left of the way they came. “Think we should take a look?” “Sure.” Scootaloo replied as she sped off in the direction Archer had pointed. Icy was sure she'd just forgotten to give Archer a chance to get back on the trailer. They slowed down as they approached a clearing. Coming to a stop at the edge of it, they could see a barn. Though far from run-down, it didn't look like it saw much use – much of the paint had faded, the hinges to the doors were a little rusted and the doors themselves were shut tight. All in all, it didn't look abandoned or dilapidated, just rarely used. Before they could think on it much further, their badges crackled into life. “Okay, so we found her target,” Dinky's voice came over, “she attacked a freight cart coming into Ponyville. The drivers are okay, just a bit shaken.” “Freight...” Truffle responded, “what was it carrying?” “Grain, they said.” “Grain?” Pip asked. “Oats, rice, wheat, that kinda thing.” Dinky clarified. “Oh, okay.” Pip said. “So why would she try to take grain from a shipping cart?” “She didn't.” Alula piped up. “According to the drivers, she just popped out of nowhere, pulled them out, threw them onto the side of the road, then picked up the whole cart and went off with it.” “What, just like that?” Pip said, sounding surprised but believing. “They said she struggled a bit at first, but yeah, looks like it.” “Well, that's... concerning.” Truffle said. “Archer, Icy, Scootaloo, have you gotten a look at that barn yet.” “Yep.” Archer said both from their badges and from behind them, trotting up casually behind them. If she'd been offended by Scootaloo's snub, she didn't show it. Nor even if she'd noticed. “Looks like just a barn. Bit old and worn out, but can't see anything else. You want us to take a look inside?” “Negative.” Alula's voice responded instantly. “What?” Scootaloo asked, having already started buzzing her wings. “Why not?” “Because even if she's not there now, she'd probably have set traps in case someone stumbled across it.” “Ah, traps, Schmaps, we can take whatever she comes up with.” Scootaloo said, her slowing wings somewhat taking away from her bravado. “Maybe, but it would be easier to “take them” if the whole team was there.” “I dunno...” Scootaloo said slowly. The badges activated just long enough for them to catch the tail end of a sigh before Alula continued. “Very well, once you've gotten all the information you can from outside, go up, listen at the door and, if you can't hear any activity, take a look – and I mean just a quick look – inside.” “Fiiiiiiiine.” Scootaloo moaned. Once the badges had fallen silent, Archer looked over at the barn. “Dunno about you guys, but it looks like just a barn to me.” Icy thought for a moment. “Well, I mean, it's on this farm. That means whoever owns the farm owns the barn, right?” She paused for a moment, smiling at the accidental almost-rhyme, before continuing. “Couldn't we just ask them?” “Not a bad idea.” Archer said, nodding. “Okay!” Icy said, turning around. Then continuing to turn around, going through two full rotations and looking around at the endless orchard around them. “Um... where would we find them? Is there a farm house nearby or...” “Ah, don't worry about that.” Scootaloo said, holding out a hoof to her side. “Archer, couldja get an apple down?” “Sure thing.” Archer replied, hopping up onto the back hooves and getting her bow off her back. In less than a second, she pulled an arrow out of her quiver, nocked it and fired it before falling back to four hooves. The arrow streaked straight through the stem of an apple, causing it to fall into Scootaloo's hoof. Holding the apple in front of her, Scootaloo cleared her throat before saying, in as loud and as hammy a way as she could: “Boy, I sure am hungry after that long walk! It's a good thing I'm in an orchard – there's plenty of food around and it's not like anyone would miss one apple.” She opened her mouth, put the apple just inside it, not touching her teeth, and waited a couple of seconds. Icy was about to ask what she was doing when she suddenly heard heavy hoofsteps rapidly approaching. “PUT THAT DOWN, YA THIEVIN' VARMINT! THAT'S MY LIVELIHOOD YER MUNCHIN' ON! YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST... Oh, howdy there, Scootaloo!” Icy turned to see a rather pretty orange mare in a hat trotting up to them slowly. Although, judging from the cloud of dust behind her, that slowness was an extremely recent development. She leaned against a tree and smiled at them, though there was a certain hardness in her eyes as she looked at the apple in Scootaloo's hoof. “Hope yer plannin' on payin' for that, Scoots. Though I don't see a bit pouch on ya.” Scootaloo rolled her eyes before tossing the apple to the mare, who deftly caught it. She rubbed the apple on her chest, checked it over with the care normally reserved for a jeweller looking over a diamond and then, with a smile, took a large bite out of it. Icy tilted her head. “So, you were just going to eat it yourself?” The mare looked at Icy and swallowed. “Yep.” She shrugged “'smy apple. 'Sides, I was gettin' a mite peckish.” She blinked, her face lighting up with recognition. “Say, yer that new filly in town, ain'tcha? Saw you at Pinkie's Party last Saturday.” Icy beamed. “Yep. My name's Icy Flight!” She fluttered her wings, happy at being recognized. The mare chuckled. “Well, I know 'sa little late, but welcome to Ponyville, Icy.” She lifted her hat for a moment before continuing. “Name's Applejack. Owner and proprietor of this little slice o' heaven, Sweet Apple Acres!” She looked around with a contented sigh before continuing. “But I'm sure ya didn't come here just to say hello to li'l ol' me, what can I do ya for?” Icy paused, caught off-guard a touch by the big, well-muscled, fully grown mare referring to herself as “li'l” in front of three fillies, before answering. “Well, Miss Applejack...” “Hey, no need for the formality,” Applejack interrupted before she could start, “Just call me Applejack.” “Okay, Miss Applejack,” Icy replied a little absently, “we were just wondering what you used that barn for.” Applejack looked over at the barn in question. “Ah, well, not much right now, to be honest with ya. I'm guessin' you noticed it ain't lookin' as great at the others.” She said, not looking to see if she'd guessed right. “That there's our winter storage barn – just before the pegasi bring the snow in, we store anythin' we don't use in those months – and that's most of our stuff – there till Wrap-Up. Used to use it to store any surplus apples we couldn't fit anywhere else durin' applebuck season, but since we got that new barn in the south field last year, didn't really need it this year.” She frowned slightly. “Keep meanin' to give a touch-up. I mean, we may not use it most of the year but it's still important and there ain't no reason to let it rot. But there's always somethin' comes up and it plum slips my mind. Might get Mac to take a look tomorrow, see what he thinks needs doin' 'tween now and when we use it.” She paused for a moment, seeming to commit it to memory, before her eyes flicked back to the fillies and she blushed. “Sorry 'bout that – didn't mean to ramble so much.” “That's okay.” Icy replied. She'd be lying if she'd said it was that interesting, but she did like seeing the farmer talk about something she obviously cared about. “So, you're not going to use it for a while, right?” Archer said, looking over the barn. “Not for a coupla weeks, I'd say. Why? You thinkin' of usin' it for one of your crusades, Scoots?” She said, giving a wry smile. Although, while Icy could have just been imagining it, she could swear she saw a hint of worry in her eyes. She'd heard a few stories about these “crusades” and was... a little wary of them herself. “Nah, don't worry, we were just wondering is all.” Scootaloo answered, waving a hoof. “Oh. Okay, then.” Applejack said slowly, turning to walk away. “Wait, Miss Applejack?” Icy said, suddenly remembering something. Applejack stopped and turned back. “Somethin' else, Sugarcube?” Icy blinked in confusion about why she'd been called that before shaking her head and continuing. “This may seem like a weird question, but has anything been stolen from the farm recently?” “Stolen?” Applejack replied, puzzled. “Stolen, gone missing, that kinda thing?” “Nothin' I can think of. I mean, we don't exactly check things every night.” She thought for a moment before speaking up again. “Though Apple Bloom did say a coupla milk churns were missin' yesterday. But that don't mean nothin' – that filly could lose an apple in an orange grove.” “Milk churns?” Asked Icy, not exactly up on the varieties of farm implements. “Yeah, big metal can types of things, keep milk in 'em after it comes outta the cow. I mean, they coulda been stolen, but I don't see why anyone'd go to that kinda effort for a coupla gallons of milk.” Big metal cans... Housing, maybe? And now a cart to transport it. “And you haven't seen anyone suspicious going around.” Applejack shrugged. “Can't say as I have, but again, that don't mean much – this place is so big and 'sgot so many trees, anyone coulda passed through and we wouldn'ta seen or heard 'em. 'nless of course they were scrumpin'.” Applejack finished, shooting a smirk at Scootaloo. She looked down at her scooter, only now seeming to notice the symbol on it and their costumes. Nodding, she turned around. “Well, nice chattin' to y'all, but I gotta get back to work.” She picked up her front hoof to walk away before pausing. “Oh, almost forgot.” She gave the tree next to her a light kick, causing three apples to fall in front of the fillies. “On the house.” She said, smiling at them over her shoulder. “Just try not to destroy the farm when ya bring down the bad guy.” And with that, she trotted off, leaving two fillies to pick up the apples and one a bit too confused to do so. “What a nice pony.” Icy said to herself. “Weird, but nice.” Then the last thing Applejack said registered with her. “So, is there anyone in this town that doesn't know about us?” “Oh, plenty.” Archer said, putting the apples into the scooter's trailer for later. “But there's plenty who do, too. It's kind of an open secret.” She explained as she trotted over to the doors of the barn, dropping to a whisper as she approached. “They might hear about it once in a while, but they don't really talk about it much.” “Oh, Oka...” Icy started as she followed, before wincing at her own volume. She continued quietly. “Okay, I guess that makes sense. Well, it doesn't but I don't mind. How are we doing this?” “Like Princess said, we listen in.” Archer said, pressing an ear to the door. Nodding, she continued. “And when we don't hear anything we open the door a crack,” she did just that, slowly so as not to make too much noise, “and we see if... yep!” Scampering around, Icy looked through the ajar door. It took her a moment to find it, but she did indeed see a large cart with a pile of closed sacks on top of it. By the cart's wheel, she could see several more sacks and a large glass bowl, with a bulb in its lid and a wire running off it. Weird, Icy thought, I'd have thought she'd have taken it apart and started building the laser by now. “Okay,” Archer said, still whispering, even though there seemed to be no one else there, “let's meet up with the others and come back here.” “You sure? We could just...” Scootaloo trailed off, remembering what Alula had said. “Alright, alright, let's go.” She finished in a slight huff. “Hey, I know, Scoot, I know.” Archer said as they trotted back to the scooter. “For the record, I'm pretty sure we could deal with whatever's here alone, but you know how Lance and Princess can get. Wouldn't want them to miss out, would we? And not just because of the lecture they'd give either. Besides,” she hopped into the trailer and put her back hooves on the rim, “we don't want the Miniac to know we're onto her hideout til we're good and ready.” What none of them had seen, however, not even Archer with her sharp senses, was the single strand of hair that had been stretched across the inside of the barn door. The strand that had been broken when the door had been opened, however slightly. And the box it was attached to, on which a little light was now flashing red. Author's Note Unrelated to this story but, if you haven't already, you should check out RB_'s blog post about an enterprise he's hoping to undertake. It seems like a fascinating idea that could potentially do great things, so I thought I'd do my meagre best to signal boost it a tad.
Chapter 5: Bad IdeasThat evening, the seven ponies of Iota force were gathered near the barn, though a fair way into the trees in case someone was looking out. “Okay, so, what's the plan?” Scootaloo asked, her hooves twitching a little in impatience. Alula let out a hum before answering. “Well, I would suggest you, Truffle, Lance and Archer go in. Carefully.” She fixed Scootaloo with a brief glare before continuing. “You go in, check for traps or dangers. After that, the rest of us join you, helping you with any traps if we need to. Once that's done, we'll see what we need to do from there.” “You're sending them into danger first?” Icy asked, suddenly uncomfortable. She knew Alula was an intelligent and logical filly – to a sometimes disturbing degree – but that seemed a bit heartless. Of course, she wouldn't say that out loud. “Course she is,” Archer replied, shrugging, “we're expendable.” Behind her, despite his face being covered by a wire mask, Icy could just about see Lance raise an eyebrow. “No, no that's not what I meant!” Alula replied, a hint of panic showing in her voice. “I'm sorry if I... That's not it.” She took a deep breath before continuing. “It's simply that you four are better at avoiding and surviving traps, while Dinky, Icy and I are better at helping others out of them. “Yeah, guess that makes sense too.” Archer said, turning towards the barn. “You ready, guys?” Lance nodded, Scootaloo buzzed her wings and Truffle let out a deep chuckle, all in affirmation. Without saying another word, they sprung into action. Scootaloo went first, her wings going slower than normal, presumably to reduce the noise they made, but still propelling her forward at quite a speed. Then Archer and Lance went, looking to the sides, ready to intercept anything that tried to flank them. Finally, Truffle jogged after them, a little slower due to his bulk but showing no signs of struggling. Alula held up a hoof to Dinky and Icy, signalling them to wait. After five seconds, she waved it forward and cantered after them, Dinky following. Icy, meanwhile, had been a little blindsided by this sudden professionalism, so took a moment to realize she was supposed to follow as well. Once they reached the edge of the clearing, Alula held her hoof up again. Fortunately, Icy noticed this, realized she was supposed to stop and did so before she ended up walking into Alula's rump. Just. Over at the barn, she saw the others preparing to go in. Scootaloo and Truffle were a couple of meters away from the doors, both in ready stances. Archer and Lance were up against the doors, weapons out, Archer's ear against the door, as it had been earlier. After a few seconds, she nodded to the others. She and Lance placed a hoof against each door and pushed, ever so gently and carefully. Unfortunately, the thing they had forgotten about barn doors is that they tend to be rather big and somewhat heavy. As a result, the doors opened about an inch and gave off a very loud creak at they did so. Stopping the instant they heard the noise, Archer and Lance backed off a couple of steps from the door, weapons up, ready to take on anything that came out. After about fifteen seconds, it became clear nothing was going to. Relaxing a bit, though still not lowering their weapons, they turned to look at Truffle. Though his back was to her, Icy could tell the overweight colt was smiling. He took two step backwards, lined himself up, then ran at a full gallop at the doors, body checking them right in the centre and swinging them wide open. At the instant he did so, Lance and Archer followed, sweeping through the doorway and pointing their weapons on either side. An empty barn greeted them. As the four entered the barn, Icy, Dinky and Alula followed slowly, stopping by the edges of the doors and peering in cautiously. The four inside were still searching, looking and checking in every corner, turning around quickly every so often so nothing could sneak up on them and, ever so slowly, moving forward towards the cart and assorted loot. But nothing happened – no hair-rope snares, no hair tripwires, no shampoo-slicks. Nothing. Out of the corner of her eye, Icy could see Alula's face grow more and more worried. Once the team's vanguard had reached the cart, they checked it all over. Again, no trap was sprung. “Can't find anything.” Archer whispered from their badges. Alula frowned. “There has to be something, there's no way she just left all this stuff to be found.” “Maybe she just didn't think anyone would look here?” Dinky suggested. “It is pretty out of the way.” Alula gave her a flat look. “Dinky, she picked up a cart and carried it here. I doubt she was relying on stealth to defend her lair.” “Oh, right,” Dinky said, pouting a little, “sorry, that was silly of me.” Alula smiled and put a hoof on her shoulder. “No, it wasn't, I'm sorry, I should have...” She stopped mid-sentence before shaking her head and refocusing. “Anyway, I suggest we make our way in. Slowly.” Not waiting for an answer, Alula crept in through the door, Icy and Dinky following a moment later. That was when things kicked off. Something impacted on Icy's head. She only had a millisecond to register it as some kind of liquid-filled sack before it exploded with a splat, covering her in goop. At the exact same moment, she heard two other splats next to her and a number of others from the other side of the barn. Lifting a hoof, Icy got a look at the liquid covering her. It was a white with a slight yellow tint, very thick and full of little lumps. She didn't have time to consider it much further as an insane cackle came down from above them. “A very noble effort, my dear, lovable ignorami. Unfortunately, you failed to think about the one kind of trap that could thwart any precaution.” Looking up, Icy saw the Miniac, her hair grasping the barn's rafters and lowering her down slowly from an upper loft of the barn. “The living kind!” Instantly, weapons were trained on her, stances taken and energy gathered in horn- or wingtip. The Miniac smiled, pretending to check the underside of her hoof. “Oh, I really wouldn't bother with any of that. I mean, you can, but it will do you very little good. You can prepare to cut me down in any way you like. However, in but a moment,” she looked up, her smile growing, “You won't want to.” “What do you mean?” Icy asked, not liking her expression one bit. She stepped to the side, starting to walk around the Miniac to join the larger group and leaving a trail of the unknown goop behind her. She could hear Dinky and Alula following, but didn't take her eyes off her opponent. “What is this stuff?” “Oh, nothing much,” The Miniac looked up and tapped her hoof on her chin in faux-thought, “A little formula to make you... a little more compliant. Unbelievable, don’t you think, how an ordinary chemical or two can combine into something incredible? I have to admit, I did worry when I heard my hideout had been found – I'd hoped a lair out on the fringe would mean I’d have more time to make more of the formula. But I had to trim my plan and make only enough for all of you. But now that you've been... enriched by it, I think I'll have all the time in the world. And you are going to help me make and deliver it to everyone in your whole pathetic town.” She let out an insane giggle. Icy, Dinky and Alula reached the others. “Enough games! What. Is. This. Stuff?” Archer growled, sounding concerned for perhaps the first time since Icy had known her. “Hmmmm,” The Miniac drew out the hum, revelling in the tension, “I believe the appropriate term would be a... love venom.” “Love Poison?!” Scootaloo yelped, sounding even more panicked than Icy was. “Indeed. Can you feel it working yet?” As Icy's mouth hung open in shock, a drop of the liquid fell into it and onto her tongue. “Maybe you're beginning to look at me in a new light? Becoming aware of how wonderful I am, of how terribly you want to make me happy, to do anything for me?” Icy smacked her lips quietly. “How you'll do everything I tell you to do? How you'd happily die for me, if I were to command it? I'd let it happen, if I were you. You may try to fight it, but you will inevitably fail. Nopony can overcome my...” “Rice Pudding!” All the tension and fear the Miniac had evoked instantly vanished as the words left Icy's mouth. All eyes turned to her. The Miniac stared at her. “What.” Icy licked a little of the liquid off her leg. “It's rice pudding.” She swished it around her mouth a little before swallowing. “Very nice, actually.” Around her, the others all tried a little, a chorus of appreciative murmuring coming afterwards. “Mm, it is pretty yummy!” “Yeah, I'm not normally into rice pudding, but this ain't too bad.” “Could use a little cinnamon, but yeah...” “NO! IT CANNOT BE!” The Miniac screamed, a tendril of hair pulling out a crumpled piece of paper covered in messy handwriting. “The formula... It th- it definitely... GAAAAH” Her hair scrunched the paper up into a ball and threw it at Icy petulantly. Before it reached her, Alula grabbed it in her telekinesis, uncrumpled it and held out in front of them. On it, in what looked like a colt's or filly's hoofwriting, was a recipe, needing sugar, milk, rice, a couple of spices and an oven. And next to it, in large letters, was a note that said how “everyone will fall in love with it”. Alula looked up at the Miniac, her stoicism fighting a losing battle against her amusement. “You didn't really think this was some kind of super-scientific mind control formula, did you?” The Miniac just glared in response. “Oh, of course, I forgot – comic book character!” Alula rolled her eyes. “Where did you even get this.” “As it happened, I found it right in front of me when I grew out into this world.” A small smile broke through her foalish pout. “Evidently, the filly who freed me had an identical goal to me before I... hitched a ride.” Alula opened her mouth to say something before Scootaloo got ahead of her, her laughter barely contained. “Looks like she just wanted to make dessert.” She snorted, then, after a moment, burst out laughing. That broke the dam, and all of Iota Force was soon guffawing at the situation. “I mean, wow,” Scootaloo continued between laughs, “can you believe I was actually buying into that horseapples you were coming up with?” “Yeah,” Icy said, still laughing, “here I was worried you were building a laser with the stuff you'd stolen, but no,” another wave of laughter hit her before she continued, “turns out you were making the dreaded rice pudding!” “Well, I... wait, what?” The Miniac's expression, which had lost its smile and was rapidly shifting through annoyed and angry into a full-on conniption, suddenly turned to confusion. “How would I make a...” “You know,” Icy continued as the laughter began to subside, “focus the light and heat from the oven through the lenses?” The laughter trickled to a stop as Icy thought about something. “Actually, hang on, why did you steal all those lenses, anyway?” “The light from the halogen bulb...” The Miniac muttered, ignoring Icy's question. “That would... But that would take a huge amount of energy!” Had Icy not been recovering from a massive bout of laughter, she would have instantly noticed the Miniac's sudden inquisitveness and stopped talking. As it was, however, she continued without thinking. “Yeah, but then you'd use the sugar to get mm mmf... mm?” Her mouth was covered by Lances cloth-covered hoof two seconds too late. “You're right!” The Miniac exclaimed. “How could I not have reali-” Her hair darted forward. The team split down the middle, readying for a fight before they realized she was going for the loot behind them. She managed to take the oven before they realized this, but as the tendrils reached for the sacks of sugar, Icy flapped her wings, encasing both the sacks and the ends of the hair in a block of ice. A scream of rage burst forth from the Miniac. Turning to her, Icy saw her close her eyes. A moment later, the trapped strands of hair detached from her head, apparently solely by an effort of will, and more immediately grew to replace them.. The instant she did this, something extraordinary happened. Once the hairs had been disconnected from her, they started shrinking. As they did, they changed colours from the Miniac's dark green to a bright red. In less than a second, they had reduced from a length that reached clear across the barn to a fraction of a millimetre, transforming into a red powder. So that's what that was. Icy thought before refocussing on the apoplectic villain in front of her, whose eyes were focussed squarely on her behind the lenses of her goggles. Lenses! But that would mean... the Mane-iac doesn't wear... Before she could finish the thought, the Miniac spoke, her voice sounding both angry and hurt. “You... how could you? Do you have any idea how many thplit endth you jutht gave... me...?” Everyone was silent. The Miniac looked at Iota Force. Iota Force looked at the Miniac. Everything started to fall into place. ‘Hitching a ride’. Red hair. Glasses. A lisp. “Twist?!” The Miniac huffed. “Indee-” She paused mid-word before shrugging. “Yeth... and no.” Evidently she'd decided to stop avoiding s-sounds. “I'm jutht... borrowing her body and mane for a little while.” The corner of her mouth quirked up into a slight smirk. “I'm pothitive the doethn't mind. Or at least, the doethn't know. And if the doeth, there'th nothing the can do about it.” Icy heard the tautening of a bowstring behind her. Looking out at the corner of her eye, she could see the tip of a very sharp arrow. “Let. Her. Go!” Truffle said, his voice colder and more serious that Icy had ever heard. She dreaded what she would see in his eyes if she turned around. The Miniac's eyes widened for a moment before she smiled slowly, as if she was relishing every millimeter her mouth moved. “No. No, I don't think I will. In fact, I think I'm going to be leaving now. And I think you are jutht going to thtand there and let me go. You can keep the thugar, though, I'll thoon have more than I could ever need.” “Why... why would we...?” Dinky asked, her voice quiet and quivering with sorrow. “Well, you could try to thtop me if you like,” The Miniac replied, carefully enunciating every word, “but I wouldn't if I were you. Unleth, of courthe,” A thick strand of hair suddenly dived into a pocket of her costume before coming out with a straight razor, “You want your friend to die.” She held the blade against her neck, right over the jugular vein. There was a horrified pause as everyone took in what she was suggesting. “You... you wouldn't...” Dinky pleaded, sounding almost on the edge of tears. “Weeeeeeell, it wouldn't hurt me, of courthe.” The Miniac said casually. “I'd thimply need to find a new body to recondithion. Hopefully one with fewer... problemth and lowlightth. But you're right, naturally. I mean, what thort of pony would have the sheer nerve to jutht kill the body they were inhabiting.” She leaned her head back a little and looked down at them, her eyes and smile far too wide. “Why, I'd have to be thome kind of... maniac! EhehehehehehahahahahahahahaAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” She lifted herself up on her hair-tentacles, not moving the razor away from her neck. She paused for a moment until, once it became clear they weren’t coming closer, she strolled out, keeping eye contact with her opponents as she faded into the night. Once she was gone from view, the other reacted. “DAMMIT!” Archer let loose her arrow, embedding it a beam. Truffle stomped hard and bucked a partition wall, smashing a sizable hole in it. It looked like he was going crazy trying to decide whether or not to run after his possessed friend. Dinky just sat down, looking shocked at their enemy’s callousness, and Icy instinctively went over to hug her, Scootaloo revved up her wings to give chase before Alula's hoof stopped her. “Don't worry,” the shape-shifter began, “We can...” “What do you mean, don't worry?!” Truffle yelled, turning on her. His volume was enough to shake Icy down to her guts. “She's got Twist! She's possessing my… our friend! And we have no idea what she's going to...” “Whatever she's going to do, we’re gonna stop her.” Archer interrupted, his normally cool voice hard and determined. “We’re gonna free her from this… this...” She simply spat on the ground as an end to her sentence. “Besides, you're wrong about one thing,” Alula said in her usual steady tone. “I think we know exactly what she's going to do next.” “We do?” Truffle asked, a hint of hope in his voice. “She said she'd soon have all the energy she needed.” Alula paused, waiting for an answer until it became apparent not everyone found things as obvious as she did. “All the sugar she needed.” Another pause. More silence. “Can you think of anything happening soon where there'd a lot of sugar? Like, for example, in candy?” That made it click. “Nightmare night!” Icy muttered. “Exactly. It sounds like she's going to use that to power her laser.” Alula said. “And now that we know that, we can prepare for it. Let's go.” Alula turned on her hooves and started to trot away., The others, in various states of consideration, sadness and anger, quickly followed. Icy lingered for a moment. “So, hold on a moment,” She said, causing the others to stop and look over their shoulders at her, “just so I’ve got this clear in my head, we're going to stop a classmate who's being possessed by a literal comic book character from wreaking havoc using a candy-powered death ray.” Alula nodded. “Assuming that the idea you gave her would work - something we won’t take a chance on - then yes, that seems a good summary.” “Okay,” said Icy as she trotted to catch up with them, “just checking!” Author's Note Not that I expect many people to write or read comments, but if anyone does, remember to put any mention of Twist as the Miniac's host in spoiler text. Thank you.
Chapter 6: Finding KryptoniteThe next day, Spike finally came back to them with some information about the comic that had caused all this. First, he informed them, with a distinctly lecturing tone, that the comic did not let anything physical out, but a disembodied spirit of the Mane-iac who would possess whoever opened the comic and transform them into a copy of herself, with the same powers and skills. It had taken a massive collective effort from all of them (as well as a couple of hooves placed over mouths) not to give an “Oh really?!” so sarcastic it might have physically cut Spike, thick scales or not. As it was, he merely wilted from their expressions. His first new piece of information was that, because the Mane-iac rarely tired, she would often take the body for joyrides when it was asleep. This would, of course, make the host very tired very quickly, which in turn would make them sleep more which would give the Mane-iac more time to play and so the cycle would continue. The response to this was a bit more low-key – shame that no one had noticed Twist's condition, even when it was right in front of them. Except for Truffle, that is, who had been spending a lot of time with her because of it. However, he was even more ashamed that he didn’t realize the extent of the problem or that it was caused by more than just sleeping problems. Fortunately, the other information Spike had was a lot more useful. For one thing, the Mane-iac brought some of her rules with her when she came out - nothing reality-shattering, but she would be able to make a lot of comic-book science work, presumably including her laser. In fact, had the recipe she’d used come from her mind rather than Twist’s, it most likely would have worked - an unpleasant thought. Also, she would be able to exert some influence over Twist at any time, such as suppressing any relevant memories, but could only control her fully when she manifested - at all other times, she was nearly undetectable. The most important piece of information, however, was that the Mane-iac could be recontained in her original comic – all they had to do was get her to go back into it. Even if she put a hoof or a single hair in (appropriately enough), she'd quickly be sucked back in, unable to leave until the next pony opened the comic and let her out. The phrase “all they had to do” was, of course, somewhat relative. Initially, there had been worry that she'd have simply destroyed the comic, but Spike had assured them that wasn't the case – the dealer had layered protection spell after protection spell onto all his most powerful or dangerous comics to prevent precisely that situation from occurring. Spike had assured them that he wasn't that dumb. Just dumb enough to let one of the most dangerous baddies in all of comics (Or so Spike said Icy thought) out of his sight to take over an innocent filly. Which made them feel much better. Furthermore, they'd quickly deduced that she would probably stash the comic somewhere she could access it quickly, both to prevent others from finding it and so she could escape into it if she ever needed to. Their first thought was in the barn, but were that the case, she would have undoubtedly retrieved it first when she escaped. Thus, Icy, Alula and Dinky found themselves outside of the only place they could think that it might be - Twist's house. “You're sure she wouldn't have come back here to get it?” Icy asked. “No, not sure, but it's unlikely.” Alula said offhandedly, her mind focussing on something else. “Once she knew that we knew she was possessing Twist, she wouldn't have come back here, since we might have been waiting for her.” “But... we weren't, were we?” Icy asked. “No, but she didn't know that.” Dinky sighed. “Her mommy and daddy must be really worried about where she is.” “No,” Alula replied, a hoof playing with her hair oddly, “they think she's at a sleepover at Ruby Pinch's house.” “Why?” Dinky asked. “Did you tell them that?” Alula paused, paying attention to the others for the first time in a while. “No. I asked them where she was. That's what they said she told them.” “Oh...” Dinky looked away, embarassed. “Sorry.” “That's alright,” Alula replied, focussing again, “if she hadn't, I might have had to.” She did not sound as if she relished the idea. “What are you concentrating on?” Icy asked. “My disguise.” Alula said. “If I'm going to fool Twist's own parents, even for as short a time as I plan to, my imitation must be perfect.” As Alula's eyes closed, a rippling greenish distortion grew into the air around her, her form becoming indistinct and blurry. The distortion continued a lot longer that Icy had seen it do before, tiny licks of green flame flashing within it every so often. Soon, Alula's form was entirely obscured. After a couple of seconds, the distortion disappeared without a noise, a bang or even a whimper. When it did, standing in Alula's place was Twist. And not the Twist Icy had met when she first came to town, but the Twist of the last couple of weeks. Her hair was even more frazzled than normal, her eyes had heavy bags under them, even her stance, expression and movement was a perfect imitation of Twist's normal bubbliness muted by heavy fatigue. Even knowing that this was Alula, Icy could scarcely believe it wasn't Twist. Shaking her head, Icy remembered what she needed to do next, scampering with Dinky around the corner of the house while Twis... Alula knocked on the door. Listening carefully, Icy heard the door open and Alula run inside. “Thorry, Mom, I'm really thorry, I forgot my thleeping bag and I can't really have a thleepover without...” As Alula-Twist rambled, Icy could hear her rushing up the stairs. “And your costume.” The voice of Twist's mother called after her. “What?” Alula-Twist's footsteps stopped. Twist's mother chuckled. “You said you wanted to work on your costume at the sleepover, then forgot to come back and get it.” “Oh...” Icy could practically hear Alula-Twist's ears flatten, “I'm really thorry!” “It's okay,” Twist's mother said gently, “just promise me you'll be careful.” “I will, Mom!” The sound of an upstairs door closing reached them. As it did, a sigh came from the front door, all the mirth draining from the mother's voice. “That does it.” A male voice said quietly. “We're taking her to a doctor – this is not normal.” “Yes. Yes we are.” Twist's mother replied, worry and pain muting her voice to practically a whimper. “But after Nightmare Night.” There was in intake of breath heralding a response before she pre-empted it. “You know how much she was looking forward to it. I don't think I could stand it if she had to miss it because of this... whatever's going on.” The front door closed, cutting Icy and Dinky off from the conversation and reminding them of their mission. Trotting round to the back of the house, they looked up to see an open window with Twist's face looking down and beckoning them. As Alula had told them, there was a tree very close to the window, it's branches mostly bare of autumnal leaves. Icy helped Dinky up the branches before using her wings to help herself up. Dinky was small enough to climb across a thin branch while Icy simply glided in through the window. Once inside, Icy took a look around the room, which was... surprisingly orderly. In fact, most of it looked like it hadn't been touched or moved in a week or so. Which it probably hadn't. The only area that was messy was the bed, where the covers and pillows were crumpled and askew. Alula-Twists hindquarters stuck out from under the duvet that hung off the side, her head under the bed, searching. Looking around, Icy began to ask “So where's the comi...” before catching sight of the bookshelf, an entire shelf of which was dedicated to them. “Where would a wise pony hide a leaf?” She muttered to herself. It wasn't a patch on her or Spike's collections, of course, but it was certainly respectable. Unfortunately, Icy thought as Dinky approached the shelf, horn aglow, that's a lot more than even I can check through before Twist's mom comes to check on her. After all, if she's just grabbing a costume and a sleeping bag, that doesn't leave me a lot of time to check... “One of these ones!” Dinky declared, pointing to an area of around 25 comics. Icy blinked. “How do you know?” Dinky gave a shy smile. “Oh, it's one of my thingies, psychomat... psycho...” “Pthychometry.” Alula-Twist responded from under the bed. “That's it.” Dinky nodded. “Though my thing isn’t psychic, it's about time, so... chronometry? Anyway, I can scan things to get an idea of their history. It's not that exact, but I knew that Twist would be too tired to read them, so the one the Miniac put there would be the most recently moved!” She finished, smiling gently with modest pride. “Nifty!” Icy smiled back. “So which one is it?” “The jutht thaid it'th not that prethithe.” Alula-Twist said, trotting away from the cardboard box she'd pulled from under the bed and going towards the room's wardrobe. “You're the quicketht comic reader of all of uth, thcan through them, we don't have much time.” “Right!” Icy nodded, immediately setting to work. It didn't take long to find – the fifth comic she checked featured a story where the Power Ponies were facing the Mane-iac for a couple of pages before she suddenly vanished for seemingly no reason. She then reappeared a couple of pages later before immediately disappearing again and staying absent for the rest of the comic. This resulted in a somewhat anticlimactic ending where the Power Ponies rounded up her minions, went back to their headquarters and had a cup of tea, discussing what in Tartarus had just happened. Either Fable Niece-Ceasar had had a substantial brain-fart with this issue or it was the comic they were looking for. Also, the fact that it was issue twenty seven but in the middle of issues one hundred and thrity eight to one hundred and sixty two was a bit of a giveaway. Evidently, the Miniac hadn't cared much about chronology when she'd hidden it. Which just made Icy want to defeat her even more. “Okay, I've got it!” Icy said quietly, going to the window. The others nodded, Alula picking up the sleeping bag she'd found in the wardrobe and Dinky trotting over and climbing onto Icy's back. Fortunately, she was small and light enough that Icy would be able to glide them back out of the window. Just. As Dinky took a breath and held it (not, as she'd said earlier, because she was afraid, but simply to stop herself from going “Wheeeeeee!”), Icy turned to Alula. “I'm not sure how we're going to force her back inside, but at least there's a chance now.” For the first time since she'd changed, a hint of Alula showed on Twist's face for a moment – a wry smile. “Well, Forthe ith a thtrong word. There are... other pothibilitieth. We just need to come up with a plan.” “Actually,” Dinky piped up, letting her breath out to speak, “I think I’ve already got one.” Author's Note Double chapter post this week, since this is a somewhat shorter chapter and the last before the climax.
Chapter 7: The BlowoutFinally, Nightmare Night came. The sounds of the festivities just beginning could be heard in the direction of Ponyville, but beneath the statue of Nightmare Moon, all was quiet except for the rustling of leaves and candy wrappers. Though the traditional offering to Nightmare Moon wouldn't come until much later in the evening, there was a substantial pile of confectionery sitting beneath the statue's hooves already. Earlier that day, a young colt had been seen pulling a cart, bigger than he was and filled with candy, towards Whitetail Wood, where the statue stood. When asked about it, he simply said that he was getting the offering out of the way early so he could keep everything else for himself. No one had had the heart to point out either the illogic of getting rid of that much candy just to get a few more that night or the fact that that really broke the spirit of the night. As such, the colt made his offering and the rumour mill set to work. That said, as much candy as he had been toting, the pile that now rested in front of the statue was larger still. However, were anybody watching and wondering, this apparent incongruity would have been explained when one half of the pile, the significantly taller and wider half, whispered something. “Are you sure she'll come?” “Of course she will.” The other half whispered back. “Alula said she'd made sure people saw how much candy she was taking.” “You’re sure she won’t just wait until everyone else has made their offerings? You know, get as much as she can?” “I don’t think so. From what we’ve seen, she can wait, but she’ll want to get her power source as soon as possible, so she won’t miss an opportunity like this. She’s already had to wait inside Twist enough since she… oh, sorry, I know you don’t want to be reminded…” “It’s okay, I just… as long as this works.” “I think it will. Oh, hold on, I think I hear someone coming.” Sure enough, the leaves on the ground started crunching as they were crushed beneath ambulatory tentacles of hair. The Miniac came into the clearing. In her hooves was a large gun-like device, clearly cobbled together but still looking somewhat dangerous. It was connected by thick cables to a large canister on her back. She looked over the pile of sweets. “So, there wath an offering already made. I did not underthtand that to be a thing. How... odd.” Her hair hovered around the pile, not quite touching it, as if afraid it might bite. She waited a few moments before shrugging. “But fortunate for me.” A tendril grabbed a large clump of candy and lifted above the open canister before pausing. She had definitely felt something large and firm in that pile. Looking back towards it, she saw a patch of grey fur visible just beneath the surface. The surface which subsequently burst open. “Surprise!” Dinky and Truffle cried in unison. There was a couple of seconds of silence as the Miniac stared at the two. Her hair dropped the candy into the canister and closed the lid automatically. “That'th it? Thurprithe?” She asked. “Yep!” Dinky chirped. “You made thith bait, planted this thuthpithiouthly.. thuthpith... dubiouthly huge amount of candy here and all you were going to do ith yell “Thurprithe”? “For the moment.” Truffle replied, a sneer on his face. The Miniac stared a moment more before shrugging. “Very well, if you're that eager to die, I would be happy to oblige you.” She flicked a switch on the gun, causing a hum to emanate from the canister. “I don't think that's a good idea.” Dinky said in a tone as if she was actually trying to help the Miniac. “And why ith that?” The Miniac raised the gun, pointing at the two. “Because, at the moment, we're just the distraction.” Truffle gave her a nasty smile. The Miniac's eyes darted to the side as she heard four thumps behind her. She whirled around, coming face-to-face with Scootaloo, Icy, Lance and Archer, their weapons and abilities all readied. The Miniac took one look at the assembled forces... and burst out laughing. “AAAAAHAHAHAHAHA! Thithis your idea of a trap? Even if thith wathn't the motht hare-brained attempt at an ambuth I have ever witnethed, you theem to be forgetting one fact – the thircumthtanthes have not changed.” Hefting the gun in one hoof, she spread her arms wide, presenting her chest to her opponents. “You can fill me full of arrowth and bladeth ath much ath you like, but you will only hurt your friend.” She grinned. “There’th nothing that cutth quite as deep as a hothtage thituation, ith there?” Archer looked up, as if thinking for a moment, before shrugging and letting loose an arrow. As soon as it hit, there was a flash of light and the Miniac yelped in pain. She looked down at her chest, only to find no arrow and no wound. She poked her free hoof against the spot the arrow had impacted, wincing as the spot was still sore. She looked up questioningly. “Impact arrows.” Archer explained coolly. “You didn't think we'd only have lethal weapons, did you?” She nocked another arrow, it's end blunted and faintly glowing. “These babies don't do any permanent damage, but they hurt like a... you.” Not seeming to notice the veiled insult, the Miniac gave a snort, though her bravado was beginning to crack. “The... the might thtill feel the pain if I let her, you know.” Scootaloo shrugged. “She's a tough filly. You? Guess we’ll see.” Smirking at the growl her statement prompted, Scootaloo leaned forward over her handlebars. “Bring it!” Managing to lock eyes with the Miniac through his mask, Lance beckoned with one hoof. Letting out a roar, the Miniac surged forward, hair swinging wildly. Her enemies, though, were ready, darting to either side of her around her strikes, running behind her to cut her off from Dinky and Truffle. As she spun around to face them again, Lance lunged forward with a flurry of quick, light strikes of his sword. Like Archer's arrows, none of the strikes pierced the skin, but each sent a stinging pain through the Miniac's body, forcing her back and keeping her off balance. Once she had fallen back about ten meters and the clearing had been obscured somewhat, Lance stopped. He walked around behind his opponent and held his sword to the back of her neck, silently demanding her surrender. Chuckling darkly, the Miniac had all her hair rush behind her, the mass pushing past Lance’s parry and knocking him back a good ten feet onto his back. Whirling around, she aimed her gun at his prone form and pulled the trigger with her hoof. The hum from the canister tripled in volume for an instant as a blast of pure light shot forth from the gun's nozzle. Unfortunately, the arrow that struck the gun meant the blast enacted the Miniac’s vengeance on a young oak tree. “What?!” The Miniac cried, turning her head to see Archer just to her left, leaning against a tree and nocking another arrow. She trained her gun on the blue filly, raising it to her eye and fired with a scream. Another arrow impacted the barrel, knocking the blast up and over Archer’s head. Snorting in contempt, the Miniac landed her back hooves on the ground, keeping herself stable with a couple of thin strands of mane while the rest rushed forward in a tidal wave of hair, ready to wrap themselves around Archer and hold her in place. Unfortunately, a Scootaloo-shaped blur pulled her out of the way just before impact, causing the hair to wrap itself around the tree behind her. Before she could untangle it, a wave of cold rushed over the tree, forming ice to pin her hair in place. The Miniac tried to whirl her head around in the direction the freeze-gust had come from, but forgot to let her mane out more, meaning she only succeeding nearly yanking her scalp off. With a “hmph!”, her hoof twisted a dial on the gun before firing it at the ice, the beam going over a much wider area and melting the ice down to a thin sheet. With a flex of her hair, the remaining ice shattered. She breathed a sigh of relief and was started to pull her hair off the tree. Until another gust came over and made even more ice. At this point, the Miniac's rage had seemingly reached a point where it could noy increase any more and had plateaued into a furious calm. “I really hate you, Ithe-filly.” She stated simply before turning the dial back to where it was and firing a beam in an arc, scything through her trapped hair. She was about to turn to fire at Icy when something impacted her ribs, the buzz of wings and the squeal of tires rushing off to her left. “Hey, bed-mane,” shouted a rapidly shifting voice, “keep your eye on the birdie!” Too livid to question these orders, the Miniac started firing at the orange-and-purple blur. Each shot came up well short – Scootaloo was moving too fast to hit normally and too erratically for the Miniac to lead her shots. “Thith ith ridiculouth!” The Miniac bellowed as she fired. “You can’t outrun a lather! It moves at the speed of light.” She twisted another knob and fired the laser in a long arc after Scootaloo, all with a scream of “BY DEFINITION!” “Yeah,” Archer said off to her side as another arrow knocked the laser in the opposite direction from Scootaloo, “but you don’t.” Snarling, the Miniac turned towards Archer, but before she could train the gun on her again, the hum from the canister faded. Frowning, the Miniac pulled the trigger a couple of times experimentally, but only produced a clicking sound. She turned her head back toward the statue. “Keep her off, just a few more seconds!” Scootaloo shouted from closer to the clearing. Before the Miniac could question this, her hooves suddenly froze to the ground. Gathering her hair together for a couple of moments and tightening it into a solid ball, the Mane-iac swept it through the ice, breaking it all off in a couple of strikes, then repeating the motion for her back hooves. She showed no sign of being bothered by the attack, but it bought the few seconds that were needed before the Miniac charged into the clearing, ready to grab another bunch of... absolutely nothing. There was not a speck of candy left in the clearing. The only things there were the statue, a sweating, panting Dinky and Truffle, lying on his back with a hoof over his bulging stomach. “Oof,” he moaned, “I think that was a bit much, even for me.” “Are you going to be okay?” Dinky asked between breaths. “I'll live.” Truffle gave a weak smile. “What about you, that was a lot of impressive magic you used.” Despite her face being red from exertion, it was still noticeable how Dinky blushed at the compliment. “I'll be fine, we needed to get it done quickly.” “WHAT ITH GOING ON?!” The Miniac screeched, having somehow found an even greater level of anger. “Where ith the candy?!” As if in response, Truffle gave a low, wet-sounding belch. “You can't have...What about the wrapperth?” She yelled in desperation. “You mutht have hidden them or elthe where are all the wrapperth?” Truffle winced. “Let's just say they didn't do the taste any favours.” The Miniac stared blankly, her mouth opening and closing like a guppy fish. Her head fell behind her hair as she heard the others run up behind her. From behind that curtain of green mane, however, came a deep, unhinged chuckling. “You think you've got me, don't you? That you've thwarted my planth? Think tangling with the Mane-iac would be tho eathy? You foolth!” Suddenly, she shot up on her hair-tendrils, rushing to the side of the clearing. She turned back to her opponents, hair raised to attack anyone who came at her. “There ith an entire town full of thugar for me to capture!” She opened her mouth to continue her rant before pausing as she heard a quiet song approaching. “This is nightmare night, this is nightmare night, Pumpkin scream in the midnight blue.” The Miniac's grin turned sadistic as two tendrils of hair darted in the direction of the singing. “This is nightmare night, keep your children outta sight, Hide and shriek or the seeker's gonna come for youAAAAAH!” Pulled into the clearing, suspended upside-down in hair-tendrils, was a filly – Tootsie Flute, if Icy remembered her face right. She looked around, confused, panicked, clutching onto her larger-than-normal candy bag as if it were a life preserver. “In fact, why don't I demonthtrate?” The Miniac sniggered as she effortlessly ripped the bag from Tootsie Flute's grasp. “Of courthe, I'm well aware that I could eathily get thugar other wayth... could get energy other wayth even eathier.” She mused idly as her hair plunged deep into the bag. “Why, with a cothtume like mine, I could get adultth to give me more candy than I could ever need.” She regarded Tootsie Flute with amusement, keeping Iota Force in the corner of her eye. “But I prefer to take the thingth I want from otherth. A fringe benefit, perhapth, but it'th that little touch of pointleth cruelty that truly maketh a villain'th life meaningful, don't you agree?” She said, turning back to the group. “I dunno about that,” Archer replied, smirking, “but I know you're wrong about one thing.” “And what'th... that...” The Miniac trailed off, realizing that her hair was still plunging into the bag, far deeper than the bag actually went. Panicking, she pulled her hair out, revealing what she'd grabbed in the bag. Or rather, what had grabbed her in the bag. The open pages of a very familiar comic book. She glanced at Tootsie Flute, only for a flare of distortion to shift her form back to that of Alula, the sudden shift in size throwing the hair off of her, making her fall to the ground. The Miniac turned to Iota Force, terror paralysing her vocal cords. A hint of teeth showed in Archer's smile. “That is our idea of a trap!” “No. No!” The Miniac tried to whip her last hair-tentacle at Alula, only for it to be caught in the vortex and pulled into the comic. It was now inches away from her head, and the purple of her coat and the green of her hair began to recede from her hooves and tail, leaving Twist's cream and red. Hauling himself to his feet, Truffle strode up to her, his belly wobbling but not slowing him down. He hopped up, grabbed the comic in both his front hooves and pulled with all his might. “Get. Out. Of. My. Marefriend NOW!” He roared, pulling the comic back and making the colour-fading accelerate. Soon, only the surface of her face remained the Miniac's. Then, with a pop, even that came off, spiralling into the pages of the comic book. “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooooooooooo!” The scream faded into silence. For just a moment, in the page of the comics, one panel could be seen of the Mane-iac, now fully grown, beating against the fourth wall. Then Truffle slammed the comic shut, threw it onto the ground and spat on it, his face contorted in disgust. Silence fell over the clearing, everyone taking a moment to catch their breaths. The silence was broken by a loud sniffle. All eyes turned to Twist. Not that she could see that – her eyes were unfocused without her glasses and welling up with tears. His face instantly softening, Truffle held a hoof out to Alula. “Did you bring them?” He asked, not taking his eyes off Twist. Alula handed him a large, thick pair of glasses. Nodding in thanks, Truffle went up and slipped them onto Twist's nose. Twist looked up, now able to see Truffle in front of her, his hoof outstretched to help her up. Ignoring the hoof, Twist darted forward, wrapping her hooves around Truffle. She pressed her face into his chest and burst into noisy, messy tears, “Oh Thelethtia I am tho thorry I thouldn't have I mean I couldn't thtop her and I didn't know and the wouldn't let me remember but I do now and the and I tried to hurt you and to kill you and to kill me and I thould have been able to thtop her why couldn't I thtop her and I...” Twist babbled through her crying, her tears forming deep pools beneath her glasses. Through it all, Truffle continued to hug her tightly, patting her mane and whispering to her. It didn't stop her crying, though. Feeling a few sympathetic tears herself, Icy tore her eyes away from the spectacle and turned her attention to the comic, now lying unmoving on the grass. Catching Alula's eye, not wishing to speak, she indicated for her to lift it. Lighting her horn, Alula did so, whereupon Icy sent a short burst of freezing energy over the comic, encasing it in a thick block of ice. Nobody was going to be opening that thing for a long time. “Excellent thinking, Icy Flight.” Came a regal whisper from behind her. “Princ-” “Do not shout, I wish not to interrupt things. When young Pipsqueak told me what you were attempting, I merely came to see if there was any aid you required. It seems, however, none was necessary. You are to be congratulated.” Icy seemed not to hear the praise, looking at Twist and Truffle. “Will she be okay?” “She will.” Luna replied solemnly. “We have excellent therapists and counsellors on our staff who will do all in their power to see that she recovers from this... terrible experience.” Icy nodded dumbly. She knew, intellectually, that was a good thing, but couldn't bring herself to be happy just at that moment. “Princess?” “Yes, my little pony?” “We... we beat the bad guy again, didn't we?” “It would certainly seem that way.” “So why doesn't it feel good this time?” Luna gave no answer.
Epilogue: Rinsing out the tasteThe Mad Thespian strolled down the country street. It was chaos all around him – monsters, magical creatures and assorted colourful characters rushing around, destroying, looting and generally making mischief. For most creatures, this would be a terrifying situation. He, however, was not most creatures, and for an... entrepreneur and showman such as himself, it represented a perfect opportunity to do what he wanted and take what he wanted without any pesky heroes (or hecklers, as he liked to think of them) interfering. There were extremely few such ponies around and they'd be too busy with the cornucopia of creatures around them. He smiled as he deposited his latest... box office takings into his sack - marked with the word “SWAG” in big black lettering rather than a bit sign, one can never be too explicit with one's props, after all. He adjusted his maroon velvet opera cloak, pushed his wide-brimmed hat back slightly, twirled his cane and chuckled to himself, the soft laughter soon evolving into a full belly laugh and finally a long, loud, lunatic's cackle. Unfortunately, he was so caught up in his mirth that he didn't notice the figure walking into his path until it was too late. He walked right into the figure, feeling cold metal against him for the instant before he bounced off of it and onto his behind. Rubbing his head, he looked up at the figure to see that it hadn't moved at all in the impact. It was obvious why. At first glance, the figure seemed to be some kind of robot, made of boxy metal with pipes weaving in and out of it, transporting an unknown liquid. Attached to each of the figure's front hooves was a gun-like nozzle attached to a box with wires and electronics sticking out and another pipe leading out of the back. It was only when one looked at the figure's face that one realized the nature of it. On the front of its head was a glass screen, behind which could be seen a pony's face, furless and an unnatural shade of white. Red goggles covered her eyes and her expression was unmoving, as if frozen in place. At points in the suit, a thick mist could be seen falling out, hinting at the intense cold within. A frown formed of the Mad Thespian's face, his slitted eyes narrowing. “Misty Freeze, as I doth live and breathe.” “Yes.” The figure replied simply. She fell silent after that, making it clear no apology was forthcoming. The Thespian hopped to his feet, his flared boots making a muffled thump against the path. “That suit of yours, 'tis rather unyielding, 'tisn't it?” “Yes.” Misty Freeze responded. “It tends to stop people cold.” Her monotonous voice didn't quaver as she said it, indicating that she took no joy in the pun. In fact, it was questionable whether she realized it was a pun – it could have simply been how she thought. Sighing at the lack of emotional response from his audience, the Thespian glared at Misty’s shielded face. “Well, I dost hope thee dost not intend to interfere with mine revels this night. Stay out of mine way or we may have a fight scene.” “There is no danger of that.” Misty responded, blinking slowly behind her goggles. “If your past performance against the Power Ponies is any indication, you will be put on ice before long.” “How darest thee?” The Thespian responding, hamming up his indignation as much as possible. “At least mine enemies hath numbers and incredible powers.” He continued, emphasizing the last two words as if challenging Misty to disagree. “Whereast thee dost find thouself stymied by one pony in a costume even I find excessive. Dost thou truly think such an enemy more of a threat than mine?” Mist Freeze didn't even have to think. “Yes, I do.” The Mad Thespian frowned, his claws tightening around the top of his cane. “You realize, of course, that this venue,” he indicated to the town around them, “ist only large enough for one leading player. And I dost not intend to be upstaged by thou.” “Your intentions are irrelevant,” Mist Freeze replied, the guns on her hooves beginning to emit a high-pitched hum, “your chances of victory are absolute zero.” Roaring with rage (though whether because of the insult or the pun was unclear), the Mad Thespian charged, drawing his sword cane from its sheath. As he closed with his opponent, Misty Freeze raised her freeze gun and let loose a stream of cold. “Have at thee!” “Freeze!” The thin foam sword bounced harmlessly off of Icy's armour of silver-painted cardboard at the exact moment that the rubber dart, painted white, attached itself to Spike's forehead. The two stopped moving, appreciating the tableau for a few seconds before a snort from Spike sent them both into fits of giggles. “Of course,” Icy managed once her laughter had died down, “it's not like they'd really recognise each other.” “I know, I know,” Spike said, rolling his eyes, “different companies, but I couldn't resist. Besides, it'd be nice if there were more crossovers these days.” “Well, there was JLE/Vindicators.” Icy pointed out. “Yeah, but that was an exception.” Spike replied before amending, “An awesome exception, but still an exception.” He twirled his foam sword around before thrusting it dexterously into its sheath. Icy stared at the maneuver. “Woooow!” Looking up at the exclamation, Spike smiled. “Fingers!” He said, wiggling the clawed digits for a moment. “Pretty neat things to have.” “Yeah.” Icy said, looking over the dragon. “That's an amazing costume, Mr Spike. Did you make it yourself?” “Hey, no need to Mister me, I'm just Spike. And nah,” Spike waved a claw, “Rarity made it for me.” “Huh.” Icy thought for a moment – she'd heard the name, but couldn't quite place it. “So, is she really into the Power Ponies too?” “Not really,” Spike replied, starting to walk along the path again, “if she did know the Mad Thespian, I might not have asked her to make it.” Icy frowned, trotting alongside him. “Huh? Why would that...?” “Cause it meant I had to be around her to explain it to her while she made it.” He said, giving a semi-devious smile. A smile that was lost on Icy. “Okay... I guess?” She said, not really understanding his reasoning. Shrugging, Spike changed the subject. “So, anyway, I'm surprised you're here, I thought you'd be busy with dealing with… you know.” “Oh, well, we got that wrapped up pretty early. And since Twist... couldn't be here,” Icy replied. She was smiling now, but it was a thin smile with a touch of melancholy. They both knew what had happened to the innocent filly, though Spike less intimately so. Still, Icy couldn't quite bring herself to say it, “and Truffle's staying with her tonight, we all agreed that we'd go out, get as much candy as we can and then each give some of our share to them.” Spike smiled. “Aw, that's really sweet of you guys.” Icy shrugged. “She deserves it after what she's been through. Also, Dinky said it might help make sure she doesn't get a phoba... phob...” “Phobia?” Spike suggested. “Yeah, phobia from all that.” Icy paused, looking at the young dragon. “Wow, you're really good with words, Spike.” Spike smirked. “Comes from living with Twilight. So, anyway, Misty Freeze? Why'd you go with her. I mean, even ignoring the...adaptation, there are easier Batmare villains to make, aren't there?” Rolling her eyes at the reference, Icy explained. “Yeah, but I kinda feel for him – I'm not that great with heat either. See, I...” As the two continued on, their conversation wandering from subject to subject as they wandered from house to house, Icy's mood lifted considerably. Though she didn't think about it consciously, the experience helped her put the problems they'd encountered in perspective. Because there would always be monsters, villains and threats. And sometimes, good ponies would get hurt. But as long as they had friends, old or new, close or casual, things would always get better. Author's Note So, fun fact, initially the Mad Thespian was just going to be mentioned once in chapter 3 as a quick little reference to a cartoon I love. But then I thought of him when I needed a costume and the idea of Spike speaking in butchered elizabethan english was just too amusing for me. Maybe that's just me, but I think it worked.
Chapter 1: A Proper Welcome to PonyvilleIcy trotted down the street, humming a formless tune to herself. It had been a week or two since she'd helped thwart Fire Eyes's... well, she couldn't really call it a plan and he didn't seem to have any goal beyond “everyone dies”, so... efforts? Yeah, that worked. A week since she'd helped thwart his efforts, discovered her ice-generating powers and joined Iota force. She'd been given an official badge, promised a costume when it was developed, familiarized with how they did things and then... nothing. They’d explained to her that, as important as their job was, their kind of threats didn't happen every day. So, life had been relatively uneventful since then. Well, except for that giant tree monster that had come through town on Wednesday, but the princess and her friends had taken care of that. Today was a Saturday, though, and Icy was on her way to Sugarcube Corner - apparently the name of the building that had produced those aromas that she'd smelled when she first explored the town and had been taunting her at the back of her mind ever since. The previous weeks, she and her mom had been mostly concerned with settling in and she hadn't had a good chance to go back there. Upon hearing this the previous day, Scootaloo had threatened to tie Icy to her scooter and drag her there if she didn't go today. Although she was (probably) joking, Icy decided not to turn down the invitation. Bringing herself back to the present, she came up to the building, seeing sugary smoke wafting from the windows. She smiled, opened the door and had barely crossed the threshold before flavour exploded on her tongue. Her mouth took a moment to register the cupcake that had been shoved into it and the hoof holding it closed and, in that time, her tongue had decided that it didn't matter because sweetness was all that ever was, is and would be. Her eyes focused after a couple of seconds to see a bright pink pony staring at her with brighter blue eyes. Her voluminous hair practically quivered with energy and her mouth was pulled into a smile that looked like it would hurt most ponies. “I knew it! I knew it I knew it I knew it! I knew knew knew it could contain that much sugar without being lethal, or even coma-making... Comaking! Heehee! I mean, sure, it made the mixer whine and melt a bit but now we know it's possible! This'll revolutionalise cupcake technology! It may be expensive, but look at that smile!” Her eyes were locked onto Icy's face as she continued without taking a breath. “Only 21.782% dumbfounded confusion, and the rest pure deliciousness overload! And on a new pony, we can effectively eliminate 75% of that confusion and... wait a minute! New pony? And a filly, too? You know what that means!” Her tail came around from behind her, a baking tray inexplicably balancing on it. “More free cupcakes!” Icy's body locked up as more sweetness-delivery-vessels were shovelled into her mouth. Through it all, one thought managed to form: Oh, that kind of loon! After another three cupcakes had gone in and down, the pink dynamo stopped, squinting at Icy's face. “Waaaaaaaiiit a minute! You're new, and I haven't seen you before. How long have you been in town?” Discomfort and fear freed Icy's mouth to answer. “A... A couple of weeks.” “A COUPLE OF WEEKS?!” The pony's smile seemed to flip upside-down. “A whole couple... and you haven't been thrown a single party?” Tears swelled in her eyes. “How.. how could I have been so inconsiderate? Why didn't I notice you before. I'm a terrible pony.” Icy was about to try and comfort her when her tears suddenly stopped, and her face scrunched into a determined frown. “Wait, wait, I have a plan. It's a bit unorthodox, but I can think of only one way to make up for this terrible oversight. Yes... yes, I think I can do it. It's crazy... so crazy, it just might work!” She zipped to Icy's side, put a hoof over her shoulder and whispered from the side of her mouth. “Okay, just hear me out. What I'm thinking is... I could throw you A PARTY!” Confetti seemed to explode out of the vivacious pony's mane as her smile returned, stronger than ever. Icy could feel herself smile, and genuinely wasn't sure if it was sincere or terrified. “I... I guess Mom and I could-” “You have a mommy too?!” Pinkie screamed, having apparently not made that connection. “Wow, so the party will have to be superiffic enough for two! Ooh, this is gonna be tough! Gummy!” A small alligator rose slowly out of her mane. “Make a note: Party for... what's your name?” “Icy Flight.” “Party for Icy and her mommy must, underline must, be totally, absolutely, super-duper-luper-kuper-buper AMAZING!!! Yes, three exclamation marks, it's that serious!” The alligator blinked languidly. “Well, obviously! That goes without saying!” She said in apparent reply. The alligator blinked again and lowered itself back into her mane like a submarine. “Anyway, I need to talk to your mommy about this, where does she live?” “23 Saddle Lane” Icy replied before she could stop herself. “Okaythanksbye!” She heard from the after-image of pink in front of her. She blinked, returned herself to reality and looked around for her friends. She saw Dinky, Alula and Pip watching her with unconcealed amusement and staggered over to them. “Yep,” Pip said as she sat down, “Pinkie Pie'll do that to you. 'specially if she hasn't had a chance to throw you a party yet.” “So, is that why you wanted me to come here so urgently?” Icy asked. “So she wouldn't be too... like that?” Alula gave her her usual expressionless look. “It... may have had something to do with it.” Dinky put her hoof on Icy's shoulder. “But mostly, we just wanted you to try the food here. Wasn't it yummy?” Icy was about to concede the point when Pinkie Pie came up to their table. “Can I take your order?” Icy looked to the door. “Didn't you say you were going to talk to Mom?” “Yeah, I already did that, so what can I get you?” At this point, Icy's confusion had reached the end of the spectrum and, by the time the others had given their orders, had looped back around to acceptance. “Okay, could I have a chocolate muffin? Oh, and maybe some...” She trailed off as she looked out of the window. Coming around the corner of the street were several police officers, moving with a purpose and carrying... well, she wasn't sure. From what she'd read and seen, while disasters, monsters and villains were common here, actual crimes were something of a rarity. At least, the sort where the police could do anything about it. She'd seen a couple on the beat, but never actually going somewhere. “Policeponies...” She muttered to herself, thinking. “Maybe... some... policeponies, gotcha!” Pinkie said around the pencil in her mouth before she put her notebook away and zoomed into the kitchen. She'd later learn that Scootaloo was still considered the second fastest pony in Ponyville because considering Pinkie Pie for that, or indeed, for anything, was more trouble than it was worth. After a delicious lunch of a chocolate muffin and several gingerbread policemares (and one policestallion, though Icy wasn't sure how and why Pinkie made a distinction), Icy and her friends trotted down the street to see what the actual policeponies were doing. They didn't have to walk long – it turned out that the hospital was very near Sugarcube Corner, something Icy wasn't sure was coincidental – and that was where the police had set up their crime scene. Unfortunately, whatever had happened was on the other side of the building, so they couldn't see anything without getting closer. As they turned the corner, a senior-looking officer spotted them and strolled up to them. His name badge identified him as “Chief Book 'Em”. “Hey there, li'l ladies! What can I do for ya?” He smiled genially at them. He looked middle-aged, red in coat and grey in mane, but no less fit than a pony half his age. He was probably one of the bigger stallions in town (though not quite as big as the pony who'd brought Apple Bloom to school a couple of times... Yikes!), and must have worked pretty hard for it. Yet he had a gentle expression and kind demeanour that belied how determined he must have been to be ready for anything the criminal element could throw at him. No matter how small that element was. Or maybe he's just naturally like that and I've just read too many crime comics. Icy thought. She shook herself out of her thoughts as she noticed Dinky put on an expression that... well, Icy assumed it was put on. Nopony could look that cute by accident. “We just wanted to see what was going on.” She said, soulful eyes trying to drown the chief's defences in pure adorable. The chief chuckled – obviously his defences weren't up to much. He ruffled Dinky's hair, taking off his boot to do so, and turned around, leading them to the crime scene. “It's not a problem, Ms Doo. Don't think it's anything you'd need to worry about.” As they walked forward, Icy whispered to Dinky. “That was really nifty, Dinky. How did you do that?” “Do what?” Dinky asked, suddenly looking confused. “You know,” Icy widened her eyes in a pale imitation of Dinky's previous expression, “cute him into letting us see what's happening.” “I... what?” Dinky stopped walking, as if she was too baffled to continue moving her legs. “He'd have shown us anyway.” Alula said as she came up behind them. “This isn't Detrot – unless there's something really nasty happening, the police here don't see a reason to be secretive. Besides, he knows who we are and what we do.” “Oh.” Icy blinked as she realized how she'd misread the situation. “Sorry, Dinky.” “It's okay,” Dinky chirped, before reverting slightly to confusion, “...I guess.” Apparently, she still didn't know what she'd done, so she shrugged, gave Icy a quick hug and trotted after the chief and Pip. Alula came up behind Icy and clapped her on the back as she walked past. “I don't know how she does it either.” Icy blinked a couple of times and scrambled to catch up with the others. They had to walk down the length of the hospital to get to the crime scene, but they could already see a small crowd gathered around the edges, not coming in any further than they had to to see. Not because of any policeponies holding them back, but because of what the crime scene seemed to mainly consist of: glass. The area just outside one of the hospital's windows was covered in tiny shards of glass, none bigger than a bit coin. This explained the chief's boots and the crowd's distance – for a species that habitually went around barehoofed, glass could be a problem. One shard in the frog of the hoof and… well, it wouldn’t be pleasant or clean. However, the area it covered was much smaller than Icy would have thought. Especially since the window directly above it was intact, meaning one of the upper windows must have been broken. Although... “All this glass out here...” Icy pondered out loud as she came up besides the others. “Yep, break-in, looks like.” Said the chief. “Gotta say, it's one of the weirdest ones we've seen in a while.” “But the glass is all out here.” Icy had read enough detective comics to know this clue when she saw it. “Doesn't that mean the window must have been broken from the inside?” The chief looked down at her in an “impressed-at-the-child” kind of way. “Good deduction – that's what we thought too, at first.” “At first?” Icy finally looked up to the window that was smashed. Except it wasn't. Most of the window was fully intact, but a perfect circle had been cut out of it's centre, just big enough for a grown pony to squeeze through. A very neat job, it looked like from this distance. “So why...?” “All the smashed glass?” The chief finished for her. “We're not sure at the moment. Weirder still, there's just as much glass inside as out and some of the stuff inside isn’t broken. Just cut into rough squares.” “But that would mean...” Icy started, before realizing she had absolutely no idea what it would mean. The chief chuckled at her expression. “Yeah. We're not sure what happened, or why whoever did this would do it just to steal a bunch of lenses.” “Lenses?” Pip asked, having been quietly contemplating so far. Icy looked around to see Dinky working her adorable magic on a couple of other policeponies and Alula landing with wings that hadn't been there two minutes ago. “Correct, area behind window is opticians, seemed to have stolen lots of lenses for glasses. Also, hole in window was small enough that any grown pony would have to squeeze through, despite roughness of glass and presence of shards on inside of hole, would cause damage to skin or clothes. However, no remnants noticeable, indicating culprit did not touch the side. Would suggest...” She looked at the chief, who had given her his full attention. “...that culprit was smaller than adult.” Icy didn't have time to wonder about Alula's change in syntax as the Chief, for the first time, seemed to regard the matter seriously. “You think it might have been one of your...” “Possible, not definite.” Alula replied. “Right...” The Chief thought for a moment. “Well, the only major clue we found was this stuff.” He held up a small pouch full of some sort of red powder. “Was all over the place, particularly among the glass, might be something to do with that... I dunno.” “Thank you, Mister Book.” Dinky said, having rejoined them at some point during Alula's analysis. “Sorry we have to butt in like this.” And she seemed to mean it, too, but the Chief just laughed. “Not a problem, li'l miss! Always happy for the help.” As the four of them walked away, Icy was still speechless. The Chief had actually been helpful, forthcoming and thankful for their assistance. That wasn't how it was supposed to work. The police were only supposed to be a source of information or a hindrance for the detective. She snorted, and promised she would never read another detective comic again. Well, maybe one or two more, just to check… 20 issues of Batmare later, it was evening and Icy was sitting down with her mother for dinner. “...came out of nowhere to ask when our party should be, no context, just...” The conversation was on the expected topic. “...started to say we might be able to come next saturday, but she said “but that's only a week before Nightmare Night!” so I asked...” Icy was beginning to wonder if installing a panic room wouldn't be a good idea. Sure, with her newfound abilities, unfamiliar as she was with them, and her mom's experiences, they should be okay, but... “...of course, since I'm actually ten thousand spiders in a pony suit, I should be able to burn down Canterlot without a problem.” Icy shook herself out of her thoughts and looks at her mother's smirk. Sunny Flight knew her daughter and could see when she was going off on a mental tangent, so she'd made a game of how much nonsense she could spout before Icy noticed. Icy smiled apologetically. “Sorry, Mom.” At this point, the question of what she'd been thinking was unspoken between them. “Just thought we should think about... security stuff.” She shrunk, feeling silly saying it out loud. Sunny, though, just looked thoughtful. “Makes sense.” She said after a few seconds. “Especially if and when anything happens with you and your... group? Team?” They hadn't yet decided on a term that sounded neither overly- or underly-dramatic. Icy nodded. “Might happen sooner than we think.” At her mother's questioning look, she told her what she'd seen and heard at the hospital. Sunny listened carefully until Icy finished with “...and to be honest, I don't know if I want it to be something we can deal with or not.” That fact had been making her uneasy since they'd discovered the possibility. “I know it's silly, but...” Sunny smiled at her. “Not silly at all, Icy. You want excitement, to get a chance to be a part of a team and use your new... icyness!” She finished with a chuckle Icy fidgeted, but began to smile in spite of herself. “Maybe...” “Who said “May you live an interesting life” was a curse, anyway?” Sunny continued. “I'd rather have an adventure any day.” Icy rolled her eyes at her mother. “Geez, I never would have guessed.” She looked to Sunny's left ear, at where the real one ended and the prosthetic began, then down at the ravioli in front of her. “If nothing else, your meals are always an adventure.” She felt her mom's magic give her a gentle swat and giggled. Her mother’s cooking wasn't bad, by any stretch. It tasted fine, it was just... robust. It could be eaten or, in a pinch, used as building material, or possibly insulation. Of course, in some of the places Sunny Flight had been, she might have needed that, but still... As Icy went off into her thoughts again, Sunny smiled. The two continued their meal in a comfortable silence. Almost a week passed, and nothing much seemed to happen - no new thefts, no developments, no suspicious kids in school with striped shirts and sacks marked with bit signs. Icy had put forward that Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon might have had something to do with it, but it seemed unlikely (although the others had told her that that particular bit of wishful thinking was quite common among the team). Besides, that week, they were mostly picking on Twist for being slightly more clumsy than usual. None of them liked it, of course, and Truffle in particular was spending a lot of time helping and comforting her, but it did seem to indicate the two bullies had other priorities. So, it didn't seem like any children they knew were responsible and the police hadn't brought in any suspects. It was beginning to seem like a one-off robbery, if a bizarre one. Not that that stopped Iota Force from being prepared in case something else happened. There wasn’t much they could do to prepare, but they still kept their ears open. And it paid off. That Friday, Icy was just finishing settling down to bed (after only three “last” comics) when she heard a ping from her bedside table. She turned over to look and saw her Iota badge light up. “...anyone hear me?” Truffle's voice crackled out from the badge. It was soft and quick and, as such, barely recognizable as Truffle. “I heard the sound of glass breaking across the street. Took a look out and there's a window with a hole, just like at the hospital.” “D'ya see who made it?” Archer's smooth voice asked, sounding curious but not worried. “No, I'm going down to see for myself.” There was a pause, filled by the slight crackle. “It's Haute Cuisine's cafe, on Barrel Lane, anyone else close enough to er... lend their aid?” A touch of his normal boisterousness had snuck into his tone at the end there, but Icy paid it little mind. Barrel Lane was only a couple of streets away from her house. She picked up the badge and pressed down on the iota symbol. “I am, on my way.” She attached the badge to the fur on her chest, went over to her open window and glided out in the direction of Barrel Lane. She landed just as she reached to top of the street and, seeing Truffle's distinctive shape in silhouette, scurried quickly over to him. As she reached him, she saw the glass glinting in the moonlight. Just like at the hospital, it was spread around a small area below the window. Even smaller, this time, since the window in question was on the ground floor. Unlike the hospital, there were a lot of larger, more intact pieces as well, just as the chief had described. Still, the broken glass was widespread enough to stop anyone getting close without risking hurting their hooves badly. She trotted up to Truffle's side and whispered “How are we going to get to the wind-woah” Without warning, Truffle had picked her up, put her on his back and started trotting casually over the shards. She felt the material beneath her and remembered. “Right, yeah, super-suit, forgot, sorry!” she whispered, Truffle responding with a deep but quiet laugh. When they reached the window, Icy put her head and front legs through, carefully to avoid the sides of the hole, then pushed forward into a glide, landing a fair way into the cafe's interior. She turned around to see Truffle climbing through, his stomach ballooning slightly over the lip of the hole as he did so. A shuffle was heard from the kitchen, and Icy turned around to look, only now thinking that she should have brought a torch. She took a step towards the kitchen, then another, moving as silently as she could. Three steps, four steps, five ste- She stopped as she felt her hoof fall on something strange. Soft, rough... and moving. She looked down to see some sort of tendril beneath her hoof. She couldn't see exactly what it was in the darkness, but it felt like- Before she could finish the thought, the tendril writhed out from beneath her hoof and, joined by many others, wrapped itself around her legs, pinning her in place. A “What?” came from behind her and she turned as best she could to see that Truffle had been caught as well. As they struggled, a small, dark form floated from the kitchen door, hanging off a massive tendril seemingly attached to its back. “Well, well,” the figure said in a filly's voice, her red and green eyes shining in the darkness behind a pair of goggles, “even here, in... in a new world, there are... there'd be a meddling do-gooder or two looking to cut me off early.” Her words came out strangely haltingly. It was as if she needed to continually check her own words. “Not that it... would matter, it would appear.” The tendrils around Icy's legs seemed to vibrate as the figure laughed insanely. “It appears not.” Truffle said, not seeming bothered. “It seems we're at your mercy, Miss... sorry, do I know you?” A hissing chuckle came from the figure. “Could it be? Could it truly be that I am not known here? That my reputation… didn’t reach here? Not even a highlight? Well, don't you worry.” Icy could feel the tendrils sliding up her legs and beginning to tighten. “Your world will find out... quickly enough. A pity you won't be around to...” A longer pause, this time, as another large tendril emerged from the kitchen and slithered through the hole in the window, carrying something Icy couldn't see, “behold it.” “I'm sure!” Replied Truffle casually, despite the strain audible in his voice. “If only these things were a bit more brittle.” He emphasized the last word while looking Icy in the eye. It only took a moment for his meaning to register, and another to gather the energy in her wingtips before she flapped them at Truffle's legs, the tendrils around them freezing. The figure screamed as Truffle quickly smashed his way out of his bonds. “NO! Do you have any idea how badly the cold can damage my-” Icy felt the tendrils around her hooves start to tighten, threatening to crush them before they stopped. “No matter.” At the sudden change in the filly’s tone, the main tendril on her back, which Icy could now see all the others came from, slid out of the hole in the window. “No matter at all. I'll have to trim my plan tonight, but we'll meet again! That I guarantee. AAAAHahahahahaha.” And with that, the tendril yanked her out of the window, her laugh echoing into the distance. Immediately, Icy felt her bonds shorten into nothingness. She looked down at her hooves, just about seeing powder fall in the moonlight. No doubt the same red powder as they had seen at the hospital, though she still had no idea what it was. One thing she did have an idea of, though... “Truffle? That stuff she was holding us with? Was that...?” she looked at him, and he just nodded. “Hair!” They said in unison. Author's Note Credit for Chief Book 'Em's name goes to Darth Link 22. Admittedly, when I asked him for permission to use it, he informed me that he got it from the english dub of the Kirby anime. However, I was not aware of this and gained my fondness for the name from his stories, thus he gets credit for it. Also, I've heard some people say that Pinkie Pie is difficult to write well. Personally, I didn't find her that bad, so I presume either that I failed at writing her and don't know it (damn you, Dunning–Kruger effect!) or that I might be closer to her mentality than I thought. Not sure how to feel about that.
Next Time on Iota Force...“A very nasty encounter.” The young colt said to himself, waving a hoof over the scrying globe to shut it off. “Lucky I found it. After all, a defeated villain, a hurt friend and a new member – I think it's time Iota force and I had another little... sparring match.” Trotting over to a small filing cabinet, the colt pulled the middle drawer open and started riffling through the folders within. “Let's see... P... Ponyville, Pony... Ah hah! Ponyville!” He cried as he pulled out one of the thinner folders. He trotted back to his desk and threw the folder onto it, opened it and spread out the papers within. On each one was the details of a specific place in Ponyville – what it was for, what it contained and what security it had in place. The colt hummed to himself as he looked over the papers. “Of course, I forgot just how little of note there is in that town. Very little corporate, noble or industrial presence. No major museums or galleries, too close to Canterlot for most to bother. The bank's always a possibility but I did that last time. Wouldn't want them to think I'm falling into a rut, now would I? Oh dear.” He paused in his musings. “It's a lovely town, to be sure, but not much there for a young criminal mastermind to really sink his teeth into.” He sighed. “I'd have thought they'd have something... Wait, of COURSE!” Seized with inspiration, he shifted a few papers to find a specific one. Once he found it, he scanned over it, his smile widening. “Yes, that could work. Of course, I'll have to wait until they have… but that shouldn't take long. Yes, this should be most exhilarating.” He grabbed a loose piece of blank parchment and started sketching, his mind already drafting his first message. Dear Iota Force, I have a puzzle for you...
