The rest of the day went normally, with little or no weird happenings. Especially from the new student.

Eventually, the final bell rang out, and students filed out from their classes to the central courtyard. Either to catch home-bound busses, to drive home themselves, or to head home on foot if it was close enough.

This time, however, there was something new. At the edge of the curb in an open space, was a dark blue motorcycle! It was expensive, with a pattern vaguely resembling a dragon painted on the body in gold paint.

Most students ignored it for the most part. Maybe one of the seniors decided to bike instead of drive? After all, while not as prestigious as Crystal Prep, Canterlot High was one of the top schools in the county, so one of the students could afford such a thing.

"Wow, that's a fancy looking bike!" Pinkie exclaimed.

"Hmm...Eastern brand. The paint job isn't half-bad. Good quality. Must cost a fortune!" Sunset admitted as a small crowd of students surrounded the motorcycle to see who owned it. "Twilight? What do you think?"

"I was never one for motorcycles. My standard is if its safe to drive, and practical use, its fine by me," Twilight admitted.

"Hmph, Ah admit I gotta agree with Twi," Applejack shrugged.

"'Scuse me! Comin' through. Excusez-moi, Mademoiselles et monsieur. Pardon Moi!" A new voice said as Marc shoving his way through the crowd, stumbling as he exited out, all eyes falling onto him. "Sorry. I had to get to my bike."

He then walked up to the Motorcycle and took out a small blue key and plugged it in, the bike humming to life.

"This is your bike?" Velvet asked in shock.

"Damn right," Marc smirked, closing his trench coat before taking out a motorbike helmet. It was painted blue and gold with hints of white, but there were some parts of the paint were chipped off, and showed to be black underneath, with the visor itself just a plain black. He put pushed his hair out of his eyes, before placing the helmet onto his head.

"Au revoir!" Marc said before the bike peeled down the road.

The group stared as he went down the road, before filing to their busses and cars once again, eager to get home.

Velvet Breeze exited the bus she had taken to get home, and trudged up the steps of her apartment.

It was a decent apartment, with a cheap enough rent. The landlord was a nice older man and his family. Velvet had found work in the city mall recommended to her by Sunset. She just needed to attend in the following days. Before this, she just borrowed money from Sunset and the Rainbooms. Rarity was also a kind donor, more than willing to help the girl when she needed it.

She trudged up to the second floor and unlocked her door, closing behind her and kicking off her shoes. She had a rack on the wall next to the door, fo hanging up coats and the like. Her door led directly to the living room, in which was a TV with a ZCube game console and controller, as well as a cable box and subsequent remote.

There was an opening to the left of the living room which led to a small dining room, which had the kitchen right next to it, and her bedroom and bathroom separated by a single wall.

She sighed as she collapsed on the sofa, clicking on the TV as a news anchor began their next report.

"...ports of brutal kidnappings are still being reported in from all over the Eastern Seaboard, along with sightings of these so-called superheroes. Whether this is all one big hoax, or something sinister is afoot, we still have yet to see!"

"Same old story," Velvet sighed, switching the channel to one of those Eastern Cartoons. It showed a young man in a school uniform in some sort of warehouse before getting cornered by some sort of mech, and he attempted to force the pilot out from the mech with his powers, but they wouldn't work, so he proceeded to persuade her to get her out so he could see her eyes, and then used his mental powers and took her mech.

"Huh, Cipher Curse," Velvet mused, bringing up the title of the show. "Might watch it later."

Deciding she had nothing else to do, she took out the odd book she had found earlier that day and proceeded to read the next chapter.

Chapter ii

I apologize f'r the odd text from hither on out. I did opt to useth mine own pen rather than a quill f'r the rest of this autobiography of mine.

life in medieval canterlot is relatively halcyon. Thither art the occasional ogres and manticores at which hour I headeth out f'r supplies, as well as bandits. Yet mine own main fear is the fir laimhe liath, a group of druids did dedicate to the downfall of canterlot, leadeth by Duncan. Whilst their quest is destin'd to end in defeat, with moon tide and mistress emerald edge, of which the latter hadst only just arriv'd last week, killing Duncan, I still fear yond destiny may not wend the way t shouldst.

I am, quite simply, a sir out of time. I assume yond by the time readers receiveth their hands on this novel, time travel fiction shall has't becometh mainstream. So, if 't be true t hast, taketh a moment to bethink of things like the doctor who is't, back to the future, the time machine, bethink of those folk all. Bethink of the effects of a sir out of time on the time stream.

history can changeth easily. Easier than most things. While time wanteth to befall as t didst, as bizarre as yond sounds, if 't be true thee changeth certain events enow, then 'twill changeth. Heavily. F'r all I knoweth, mine own being hither and writing this can maketh history different than t is did suppose to playeth out.

but, thither is another option.

I couldst beest did suppose to beest hither. T couldst beest a time loop, 'r a bootstrap paradox. or, causal loop.

f'r those of thee who is't knoweth not what yond is, imagine. thee enjoy a classical music composer. Like, very much like t. So much so yond thee've memoriz'd every single note of every single symphony they've putteth out. Anon imagine yond thee've somehow gotten thy hands on a time machine. So, humor like meeting thy hero, thee wend back in time and asketh 'round f'r the composer, only to findeth yond, they exist not! so, f'r the sake of history, thee becometh the composer.

and this is only one example of a bootstrap paradox. Anyone of these possible scenarios couldst beest did apply hither.

thither art other paradoxes yond couldst beest did apply hither. But, yond's bethinking linearly. By being hither, I couldst beest simply creating another universe. Similar to the original, but with an unknown new factor: me.

this is wherefore thither art laws on chronal travel!

I heareth yond the mage moon tide calleth f'r me. I shall continueth anon.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

I returneth!

t seemeth some bandits wast mucking 'round at one of the villages of canterlot, yet they hadst nay knights available, so they did request mine own holp. So, I didst what I doth most wondrous and hath killed those folk all and did free the village, and they reward'd me with some quaint coin.

peradventure this is a lucrative business option. One yond couldst beest exploit'd until I findeth a way to leaveth this time.

after all, I needeth coin to survive in this ordinary. Yond is a sooth, nay matter the time I findeth myself in

Velvet sighed before closing the book. Time had passed quicker than she thought, with it now being close to sunset, a deep twilight. She stared at the blue ink, before closing the book and resting it on her end table on which a lamp was illuminating the room, the anime having been switched for an odd show with an old scientist with spikey blue hair, and his young sidekick with a yellow shirt.

She walked out of the apartment and onto the sidewalk, having strapped on her old wrist blade on her left forearm, and pocketing a switchblade.

She had often found herself taking late-night walks after that whole Friendship Games mess. They helped her clear her head and think, the weapons were in case anyone tried attacking her. While she wasn't in a bad part of town per say, its never a bad thing to be prepared.

She walked further down the sidewalk, before she heard hushed voices speaking in an alleyway. It was an empty street, with only a few lamps illuminating it, the one she was closest to was broken, leaving her wreathed in darkness.

"...OK, Agent. What is it?" A familiar voice asked, Velvet stopping suddenly and listening intently.

"Well, Yang. I have reason to believe that the Seven are being targeted by...Him. And we have a few theories as to what dimensions got merged," a second voice replied. One that was also oddly familiar.

"All right, Agent Night. What can you give me?" Yang replied.

There was a brief sound of paper rustling.

"Huh. DC and M. Knew those kidnappings were the handiwork of one of those bastards...." Yang sighed. "Head back to base, Frigid. I'll look this over."

Velvet gasped, before covering her mouth.

"Yes, sir," The voice replied as a man stepped out from the shadows of the alley. One all too familiar to the Ex-Assassin. He had dark yellow skin, and a mop of silver hair. He dressed in a dark grey coat with a hood. Yet, the only off thing about him was his eyes. They were now a piercing gold, rather than the original teal blue.

Frigid Night? Velvet asked herself in shock. The last time he saw him, he had died on the floor of a safe house during the Assassin-Templar war, thinking of the woman who betrayed him. How?! Is this some sort of interdimensional stuff? Like, is this Mirror World Frigid? But I thought we'd know if someone came through.

Her musings were cut short as the second member, Yang stepped out of the alley. It was difficult to see him in the low lighting, so Velvet activated her Eagled Vision, the world becoming grey and Yang highlighted gold. Yet as hard as she looked, she couldn't find Frigid anywhere.

Looking back at Yang, who hadn't disappeared, she began to trail him. He was paranoid, often looking over his shoulder, but not giving Velvet a look at his face. He covered it with a brown trench coat and its collar, and a low matching fedora. She wouldn't be surprised if he was wearing some kind of mask either.

They continued on, till they got to an even darker part of town, nearing the border to the slums.

"I know your there," he called to the darkness. "I don't know who you are, or what you intend to accomplish by attacking me. So I suggest you come out and we can talk this out, or we can continue on like this and when you do eventually attack, it will end in either a hospital bill, or funeral service."

Velvet raised an eyebrow, before stepping out, pulling her hood over her head as she did.

"Your rather cocky," She chided,

Yang turned around to face her, his eyes were a piercing sea green, but that was all of his face she could see. The rest was shrouded in darkness.

"No. I've just been through this sort of thing too much. Now, who are you? Do you work for the Council of Shadows?" Yang asked. "Or Nebulon? Because if you do, this might get complicated fast."

Velvet kept a calm demeanor, but confusion took her. "The heck is a Nebulon?"

"OK. So your not a field agent..." Yang trailed. "Young, moderate build, a hidden blade on the left wrist with a switchblade in the right pocket, that means your an Assassin and are right-handed. I-...Velvet?"

Velvet's confusion quickly turned to anger. "How do you know about the Assassins?! And how do you know who I am!?"

"Oh, dear. This wasn't supposed to happen. At least not for a while...damn it," Yang sighed. "Look, you don't know me, but I know you. As you saw, I work with Frigid Night."

"And how in the hay is he even alive?! I saw him die!" Velvet said angrily.

"About that...." Yang trailed, but she had had enough. She took out her switchblade and pressed it, revealing the knife and then slashed at Yang, who skillfully dodged out of the way.

"Look. There's no need for violence," Yang tried, but Velvet then switched her grip, and managed to cut his leg just above the knee, cutting deep. He winced, and mumbled a swear in an odd language, before shifting his weight, blood starting to stain his jeans. "Damn...that hurts...."

Velvet was about to give the finishing blow, but Yang somehow summoned up enough energy to grab her wrist, and twist it, prompting a groan of pain from the fighter, and the switchblade to drop onto the sidewalk. She unsheathed her hidden blade and slashed at his face, feeling flesh give way, but Yang only removed his grip and rubbed his cheek, blood dotting his fingers.

"OK. I need to end this quickly..." He muttered, before putting his index and middle fingers together. Velvet went in for another slash, but Yang dodged out of the way just in time, before tapping his fingers on her forehead and issuing a command.

"Sleep," He said clearly.

"What? What...was.....that...?" Velvet asked, shaking her head as her eyes became heavy, like lead. Her body swayed from side to side, before she fell towards the right, Yang catching her as to make sure she didn't hit her head. Her eyes shut, and light snoring came from the ex-Assassin.

"That was close," Yang sighed. "She's not gonna forget this. Fuck."

Velvet awoke back in her apartment with a start. She shot up on her couch and went to ready her hidden blade, but found that it was no longer on her wrist. Rather, the blade and knife were resting on the end table. The key to her apartment also resting there.

Her door was closed, and her television had been turned off.

"Whoever that Yang was, he sure was considerate. Taking me home after a fight.....but just who the Hell is he? And how is Frigid alive?" Velvet sighed. "And what does all this have to do with Marc?"

Feeling too tired to keep musing on these questions, she fell into her couch, getting a few more winks of sleep.

Author's Note

Can you see the references? Note for this and any future stories, I use digenetic references as a form of foreshadowing, so if you see the references spoken out, it could be hints for things to come.