The Life and Times of the Equestrian Dragon

Chapters

The Dragon
The Girls
The Business
The Man
His Life
The Next Steps
A Show of Talent
Once More... With Feeling
The Apple-Spike Connection
Music of the Brine Dragon
Looking For Friends
Discord's Back In Town
Healers
Buckstreet's Back
MANDATORY WARNING Before Reading
Legends and Myths

The Dragon

Magic is all around us. But it goes unseen, invisible to most mortals. There is a delicate separation between the two realms, between mythical creatures and humanity. They must exist side by side and in perfect harmony. But there is great wickedness in this world, a dark force that seeks to upset that fragile balance. And I am the only one that can keep the evil at bay.

Long before recorded history, humanity faced an evil of unimaginable power. And since the dawn of time, I have moved secretly through the centuries. Living many lives, struggling to reach the time when the few who remain will battle to the last. No one has ever known I was among you... until now.

This is my territory, and I alone am responsible for the many magical creatures living within it. From the centaur, centauress and centaurette herds of Vanhoover, to the floor of the secret Leprechaun Stock Exchange in Manehattan, from the gargoyle nests high atop the Chrystaller Building, to the kelpies of San Franciscolt, North Califoalnia and Horseolulu, Haywaii. I am their guardian and their protector.

My name is Master Kebroath Gilspotten Heathspike, and I am the Equestrian Dragon.

All this has happened before, and it will probably happen again, but this time it happened in Equestria, a special place in the time and the life of a male purple dragon. And tucked away, deep in the heartland of Equestria, was a community rich in tradition.

It was here that the dragon made his home.

And he chose this particular place because there were people here who believed in him.

The day was August 17, 1998.

It was a Monday.

A black and white police car slowly crept through the Business District of New Canterlot City; a conurbation of tall buildings and large skyscrapers, asphalt streets and electric lampposts.

The squad car had push bars, lights, antennas and a spotlight mounted on the windshield pillar; hemmed in with radio consoles and a laptop terminal on a bracket, and the laptop screens showed GPS maps of the city. The doors had a silver shield painted on them with New Canterlot Police Department scrolled across the middle. To Protect was written at the top of the escutcheon, with And Serve added at the bottom. The two officers inside--Windstorm and Valkyrie--both had long, light hair tied back, black uniforms and gold badges pinned over their left breasts. They were fit, lean, tanned, athletic, neat and tidy.

The car went slow--barely 20 miles an hour--as Valkyrie, the one in the passenger seat, reached for the radio.

“This is Car 54 with our second sweep of Sector 12,” she reported in, clearly and calmly.

“Go ahead, 54,” the female dispatcher answered. “What’s your status?”

“All clear here, dispatch. Re-engaging for another pass,”

“Roger that, 54. Hey, you see him tonight?” she asked hopefully.

“Sorry, not tonight. We’ve got no sign of the Equestrian Dragon,”

“All right, you let me know if you see him, will you?”

The officers didn’t reply and continued with their patrol.

Ever since the dawn of Time, dragons were rarely seen—sometimes whole centuries went by without even a single sighting—but when they did appear, they made their presence known immediately. They would lay waste to entire civilizations, and then take up residence in a highly visible location, as if provoking humanity to retaliate. And this new “Equestrian Dragon” was an infuriating enigma to say the least, having been spotted in every major city from Fillydelphia to Applewood in southern Califoalnia.

At that same moment, high on a hilltop overlooking the peaceful countryside stood a majestic castle, one of the most spectacular estates anywhere in the world. And within those colossal walls, a muscular male awoke. He was tall, six-foot-two, strong, with broad shoulders, chiseled features, and dark hair.

Rising from his large four-poster bed with blue draperies (which hung high above, creating a deep shadow over the pillows), carefully as not to disturb her, Spike Zenith reached in the dark for a black T-shirt and blue jeans. He pulled them on, thankful that his dark-colored clothes blended in with the shadows, and quietly made his way to the Prench doors that opened out onto his balcony. Easing them open carefully, Spike grimaced a bit at the squeaking noise they made and glanced back towards his bed.

One of his companions, Celestia Soleil, was sleeping, snoring softly, not even two feet away, and he didn’t want to wake her up. Her steady breathing told him that she was in deep slumber. Then she murmured something in her sleep, like she was having a conversation with herself. It was not the first time he had seen her (or her sister) do that, so it didn’t take him by surprise. She turned over on her side, away from him. A sigh of relief escaped from between Spike’s lips and he stepped out onto the balcony.

“I’ll be back before she wakes up in the morning,” he thought.

Celestia and her sister Luna were nice and all, but Spike was not sure he had much in common with them. From what he had seen, their world had seemed perfect. Ever since he first met them, many centuries ago, they had friends, fans, admirers, and they had him, the ideal life. But they had gone out of their way to be nice to him. It could have been because of his great wealth, but Spike didn’t think so. He really thought they were genuinely good women. He didn’t have time for friends, but if he did, they would be a good place to start.

The master bedroom, his bedroom, was on the fourth floor of his castle estate, so the drop to the gravel driveway below wasn’t really an option. He had thought about exiting through one of the many skylights in the roof and giving himself a moment to look out at the city in the distance—New Canterlot. Unfortunately, the city streets were too well lit for his purposes that night. He looked across the roof to the fire escape on the far end of the castle, to the West, over the fields to the forest beyond. And then Spike half-crouched, lowered his fist toward the ground.

Suddenly, a series of purple and green reptilian scales began to take form and creep up and down his arms and legs, covering his body in a sleek and smooth coat. The scales coated Spike’s shoulders then moved up his neck. They covered Spike’s chin and crept to his mouth and nose, which contorted and extended into a sharp snout. The fingers on his hands and the toes on his feet shot out and transformed into long, talon-like claws with very sharp points while a long, lizard-like tail protruded from where his lower back and his glutes met. As his body was changing, his clothes disappeared, and Spike said a silent thank you for Elven magic, knowing that they would return when he would transform back. He was every bit the dragon he had been born, including the bold confidence that came from a dragon’s strength. He rotated his head atop his long, sinuous neck; vertebrae cracked, and then he lowered his head.

Finally, a pair of huge, leathery, bat-like wings shot out from his upper back. They started flapping and he took off from the balcony and flew over the pastures, through the night sky. The clouds curled away from his speeding form as he skimmed above them. He twisted upward and hovered with the full moon’s clear light shining on him. His wings fanned out from his back like a frozen cape. Then he rocketed down, pulling a huge funnel of clouds down behind him. It might have only been a few days since he last transformed, but somehow, it didn’t seem like days, or even months or a few years. His body felt rusty, as if he hadn’t used it in centuries.

Four minutes later and he was in the woods—five miles into Unicorn territory. He knew it was their domain because of the glyphs that had been scratched into the bark of trees, signifying that the area was under their protection as well as Spike’s.

Unicorns were celestial creatures that wandered the realms, warding away evil and preserving and protecting sacred places like the enchanted forests they dwelled in. And-- unrelated to the horses they resembled--they sported a single spiraling horn that protruded from its brow, whose magical touch could heal the sick and injured. Their ears caught the words and whispers of the creatures that shared their domain, and they knew the languages of elves.

A unicorn’s forest was a place where nothing escaped their notice. They heard each tune sung by the birds that resided amid the treetops, and they sensed where every caterpillar spun its cocoon and each leaf and branch where a tired butterfly rested its wings. From wolves and foxes to birds, squirrels and tiny insects, the creatures of a unicorn’s domain seemed quite tame. Under the unicorn’s protection, they felt safe from outside threats.

They allowed good-hearted creatures to enter their woods to hunt and gather food, but they held evil at bay. Foul-hearted creatures seldom left a unicorn’s domain alive.

His plan was to start off with an hour of running. After that, he would work on his karate, then try a bit of meditation and observation. There was a clear, full moon shining through the trees, so the forest was a bit brighter than he’d hoped it would be. But the light was not really an issue for him. It was still very warm for the middle of August, and it reminded him of the day he was born.

Spike was not born in Equestria. In fact, his parents came from across the Celestial Sea. His mother was from the mainland of the old continent, somewhere between Germaney and Prance. His father was from Loch Neighss, masquerading as a shepherd.

It was a hot and dry day in July – 4:32 in the morning to be exact – in the Scolttish Highlands, when Kebroath Gilspotten Heathspike came into this world. Great name, I know. Dragons believed that a good, strong name would frighten off gnolls and ogres... as if their fearsome demeanor wouldn’t do that. Spike, as he was more commonly known, was the long-awaited first (and only) child of Locke and Barb Zenith; and at ten stones exactly (fourteen pounds per stone), was proclaimed the handsomest baby dragon in the world.

From the moment they were hatched, Dragons had been fending for themselves... and Spike was no exception. He was a born fighter, destined for greatness. But even though dragons came into the world fighting, Spike was born into a life of great wealth, prestige, power and privilege. And yet he was assuredly his parents’ most valuable treasure. Unlike human babies, dragons could walk as soon as they were born, and Spike had learned to climb when he was only a week old.

A sea serpent, and brother of the infamous Loch Neighss Monster (“Nessie” they called her—who bore a great physical resemblance to the now extinct Plesiosaur), fell in love with a blazing winged dragoness. Some say that when that sea serpent was still just a hatchling, he popped a Highlander’s head clean off his shoulders. Do I believe that? Yes. Yes I do. Taking human form, the sea serpent and the dragoness courted and he stayed by her side for two centuries, and long after she gave birth to a son. From the day Spike left the nest, his mother and father undertook to show their son all that was good in life. Although Spike’s father spent countless hours overseeing his vast, ever-growing horde and empire, he still found time to share simple pleasures with his son. Language and writing were made available, from poetry to philosophy, and he also came to know the pleasantness of female company.

Most of Spike’s knowledge came from books, he spoke over seventeen thousand languages, and he excelled in history, science, mathematics and literature. As he grew, Spike developed a keen interest in the creation and development of several key athletic events. He had everything a male dragon could want. Although at the age of three years, his flying skills left something to be desired. With combat training and various forms of martial arts, however, Spike displayed quite a precocious talent; which (as the years progressed) become more than just a favorite pastime. Truly, there never was a dragon with a more headstrong disposition... or a more spirited sense of honor and fair play.

After Locke and Barb married and she give birth to Spike, they settled in Scoltland after the Wars of Scoltish Independence. It wasn’t until sometime after, when Spike got separated from them, that he claimed Pendragon Castle as his own and had it moved stone by stone to Equestria, where he had lived ever since.

The Equestrian Dragon was broken from his thoughts by a ringing that came from the military-grade hands-free device that hung on his right ear. He was getting a phone call from his other companion. A mere thought allowed him to answer the device and the holographic image of a woman’s face appeared before his eyes.

“Yes, Luna?” he asked.

Luna was a beautiful woman, but she was nothing next to her sister. Celestia had a light in her eyes so warm that it made Luna just about invisible sometimes.

“I have a question that simply will not wait, Sir,” she began.

“Which is?” the Equestrian Dragon asked.

“I was inquiring as to what suit Spike Zenith might need pressed for his meetings tomorrow,” she said.

“And that couldn’t wait?” His tone was embittered.

“These are the things that keep me up at night, Spike,” Luna told him.

“Was there anything else, Luna?”

“I was wondering how long your training would go,” she said. “I’ve made Coq au vin.”

The Equestrian Dragon gagged slightly after sniffing the air.

“Looks like I’ll be late,” he growled softly. “I’ve got work to do.” The Equestrian Dragon growled again after he ended the call. “Tirek!”

He recognized that demonic centaur’s foul stench anywhere.

“What’s he doing here?” he asked himself in thought.

Looking at the ground, the Equestrian Dragon slowly began to put the pieces together: the centaur’s cloven hoof prints headed north from south on the night of a full moon. And they were in a forest that was home to a herd of unicorns.

The Equestrian Dragon inhaled sharply. “He’s hunting them!”

He knew unicorns were majestic beasts; a unicorn’s horn was the focus of its power. A shard of divine magic, it’s what gave them their magical abilities... and because unicorn horns were the equivalent of ivory in the magical world, they were an extremely valuable commodity on the Magical Black Market.
Suddenly, the Equestrian Dragon heard a twig snap on the ground behind him. He ducked behind a tree as quickly as he could. Then he heard a voice about four yards away. He couldn’t make out the words, and as the voice came closer, he took a chance and peaked low, above the grass line. He recognized the demonic centaur--a horse’s body, cloven hooves, with dark red skin and a black furred torso, white hair, a goatee beard, curved, dark horns atop a bull-like head, and muscular, like all centaurs, he was an intimidating sight.

He was treading to a clearing up ahead; a pair of white unicorns with pale manes and tails were drinking from a pond at its center. Tirek cautiously moved from tree to tree until he was a few short yards from them. The Equestrian Dragon had seen a lone unicorn hold its own against a pack of six Timberwolves, but Tirek was a force to be reckoned with. He had to help them.

“Now, you shall add to my power,” Tirek said.

The Equestrian Dragon narrowed his eyes as he crept through the trees.

“Taste my Dragon Breath, dirt bag!” he growled.

He grunted and exhaled a stream of emerald green fire, which startled Tirek and distracted him long enough for the unicorns to gallop away to safety. The Equestrian Dragon could hear Tirek cursing as the two unicorns ran.

Perturbed at his prey escaping, Tirek turned his anger on his attacker.

“Dragon magic...” he thought, “... even better!”

“You’re not going anywhere, Tirek!” the Equestrian Dragon stated.

“That’s Lord Tirek!” he bellowed. “And who’s going to stop me, you?”

The Equestrian Dragon padded forward, glaring, as Tirek glowered, two fangs jutting from his upper jaw. The Equestrian Dragon breathed fire at Tirek again, knocking the demonic centaur back. The villain ducked and dodged more of the Equestrian Dragon’s fireballs; he even deflected some of them with the silver gauntlets on his arms, before conjuring an orange energy orb from between his horns. The orb grew to the size of a boulder and Tirek took aim. The Equestrian Dragon ducked under the blast, which burned a line through the trees behind him, and Lord Tirek charged.

“What?” the Equestrian Dragon thought. “You’re not tired? You just burned own a mile and a half of forest!”

He evaded Tirek’s fists and flew into the trees before bursting back out again and spitting a fireball that hit Tirek square in the chest. Tirek stumbled back and shot more fiery beams from between his horns, and two of them struck the Equestrian Dragon to the ground. With a smirk, Tirek conjured another flaming orb, which hovered above his right hand, but the Equestrian Dragon got back up and dodged the attack.

“You’re going to have to be a lot quicker than that!” the Dragon shouted.

Suddenly, something struck the Equestrian Dragon from behind, knocking him back to the ground. It was a pale pink Pegasus with a curly blue mane and tail!

“What the-?! What’s a Pegasus doing helping Tirek?” the Dragon thought.

The pink Pegasus positioned herself between Lord Tirek and the Equestrian Dragon, and she gave the latter a hateful glare as he slowly got up.

“You wanna go?” the Equestrian Dragon shouted at her. “Is that what you want?! Well, let’s go then!!”

The Equestrian Dragon flew at the pink Pegasus and kicked her across her muzzle, stunning her, before ricocheting off a tree, back towards Tirek. He grabbed the centaur by his horns and slammed him forward into a cluster of hanging vines, which tangled around his horns like a Cat’s cradle. One of the vines had wrapped around Tirek’s left wrist, which the Equestrian Dragon (now standing on the evil centaur’s head) pulled on like a puppet string, and made Tirek repeatedly punch himself in the face with it.

“Why are you hitting yourself?” he asked. “Why? Why? Why? WHY!?!”

After eight solid punches, Tirek was in a daze, his tongue hanging out of his mouth, which gave the Equestrian Dragon the opportunity he needed. Tirek wobbled and fell forward, flat on his face. Then the Equestrian Dragon rode Tirek’s head like a surfboard down the cliff, impaling the centaur’s horns through two different trees.

“Had enough yet, Rhino-Rump?!” the Equestrian Dragon shouted.

Instead of simply pulling his horns free, Tirek tore the trees from the ground, right down to their roots, and tossed them aside, freeing himself.

“Seriously?” the Equestrian Dragon thought. “All that and you’re still not winded?”

Tirek was about to charge up another energy attack when something small and sharp flew past him—barely an inch from his face—and sank into the trunk of the tree beside him, and the demonic centaur turned to see what it was.

It was a knife. Then Tirek, the pink Pegasus and the Equestrian Dragon all looked up, into the trees, where it had been thrown from, and they saw a female figure with pale violet eyes, clad in white from head to toe. More knives were tucked into her robes and she carried a sword at her hip.

“Aww, you started without me,” she mock pouted.

She somersaulted off the branch that she had been perched on, and stuck the landing on the ground, next to the Equestrian Dragon, whom she stood alongside.

“This is not over, Dragon!” Tirek swore as he and his Pegasus sidekick disappeared in a blazing inferno.

“That’s right, you better run!” the newcomer shouted as the blaze went out. “If we catch you in this forest again, you will wish we’d finished this here!”

Once she was certain that their enemies were gone, the woman removed her mask, revealing a porcelain face and a mane of long, light hair. She turned just in time to see the Equestrian Dragon shooting a brief glance at the woman he knew as Fleur de Lis.

One of New Canterlot’s socialites, Spike met Fleur the way he met most people: not in a board room, or a bar, or in the back of a limousine somewhere, but in a prison, where they both fought to survive. She enjoyed being the center of attention, but she used her high position on the social ladder to draw that attention to the charity efforts she supported.

“I didn’t need your help,” he grunted. “I was doing just fine.”

“I thought that’s why you asked me to join you on these little outings,” Fleur replied. “Spike, when are you going to learn you don’t have to go it alone?”

But he didn’t listen; presently, all his attention was focused on getting home.

Already he could picture the dragon-sized bed in his master bedroom, slipping between the sheets buck naked, burrowing into the warmth of the down comforter.

“Tomorrow, I’m stepping up my training,” the Equestrian Dragon told himself.

“That was a weird team-up, wasn’t it?” Fleur asked.

“Them? Or us?” he countered and he flew back to his castle.

Fleur raised an eyebrow, smiled, and said, “Touché.”

Once the Equestrian Dragon touched down on his balcony, a ball of emerald fire enveloped him as he transformed back into his human form. His wings retracted back into his shoulder blades, and his purple and green scales faded away. Then the Dragon’s snout, claws and tail shrank and curtailed until they were a human nose, mouth and chin, fingers and hands, and toes and feet once more. His clothes also reappeared, but were quickly discarded when he climbed back through the balcony doors and he heard Celestia stir in her sleep.

He lay down in his bed and closed his eyes.

The Girls

Spike Zenith’s days always started at 4:27 a.m. sharp. He was awakened by a gentle nuzzle from a gray wolf named Sandra, who rested at the foot of his bed.

As he slept, Spike was overcome by a feeling that there was something outside of his window... just standing there on the balcony, someone watching, and waiting for him. Of course, he knew that was impossible. He knew there was nothing there. Still, the feeling remained. He couldn’t help but look... And when he woke up, he regretted it. It was always the same thing.

Outside, Milky Way, the milkmaid from Trottingham—a beautiful woman with enormous breasts—jogged back to her truck, three empty glass milk bottles in her hands, and drove away. Back inside, Sandra whimpered as she shook her head and got out of bed.

Using her nose, she pushed the door to the master bathroom open and walked in. Then, using her paw, she turned the faucet, turning the water on, and pulled the shower curtain closed with her teeth. She returned to Spike’s bed, dragged the covers off Spike, and nuzzled him again.

After Sandra woke him, Spike groggily rolled over in his bed and reached to turn off the radio on his military-grade alarm clock.

“The biggest move of the day, Zenith Industries. The stock is up $8.63, sparked by reports that Spike Zenith intends to purchase a prime section of Downtown Applewood real estate...” a voice reported over it.

Lacking the sharp night vision he had--and enjoyed--in his dragon form, Spike lay back down for a moment and glanced down at himself before finally getting out of bed and locking himself in his bathroom.

He had slept alone the remainder of the night, but his bedroom door wasn’t locked, and he thought that his companions might try to walk in on him. He needed breakfast, but first he needed to bathe. Then he would need to find some clean clothes. As Spike took a long, hot shower, he couldn’t stop thinking about Tirek and his pink Pegasus sidekick. He unlocked the bathroom after brushing his teeth and looking himself in the mirror; more specifically, looking himself in the eyes. They were the same fiery emerald color they’d always been.

He told the maid to not make up his bed then he walked across his bedroom to the touch-screen computer (the very first of its kind) next to his walk-in closet to pick out his clothes--always a tough decision. Dragons didn’t need such silly accoutrements; humans did. He browsed through its databanks, through images of dozens of neckties, collared shirts and pressed pants, lining them up to create an ensemble. He kept browsing until he finally came across a black leather jacket and navy blue Wranglers.

It felt like a black leather kind of day.

Adding in accessories, the program dressed up a three-dimensional image of Spike and selected the clothes from his wardrobe’s automated conveyor system. The racks in his wardrobe revolved electronically, past the dozens of nearly identical black suits that hung side-by-side, until they receded into one dozen identical black leather jackets. He slid a black T-shirt over his head, the short sleeves clung to his well-defined biceps; followed by a pair of black socks, the jeans, black boots, and then he buckled his belt. He finger-combed his hair and exited the walk-in, walked back through his room, and downstairs to the kitchen. It was warm.

Celestia Soleil, a glamorous woman with long flowing hair and dressed in a transparent white lace nightgown, was flipping pancakes—tossing them high into the air and catching them without looking—while making a long shopping list and watching a recording of one of Spike’s old late night television interviews with Dr. Hearthswarmer in Neigh York. Spike had known Dr. Hearthswarmer since she was a sniper in the army... but that was a long, long time ago. Back then, he had known her (and called her) by her codename: “Hot Lips.”

“I have just two words to say about our guest tonight: Spike Zenith,” her co-host said.

“That sexy man, Spike Zenith? On my show? Right here? And I can touch him? Kiss him, maybe? Fabulous!”

Needless to say, the good doctor was ecstatic.

“You know, not only is he one of the biggest names in the world, he’s dated the most beautiful women across Equestria, he owns a baseball team, his own dinner theatre, a series of restaurants, his own corporation, and he’s still an eligible bachelor,” her co-host said. “And speaking of bachelors, census reports tell us that there are 21 billion more singles now then there were in the 1970’s, and somebody designed a convention specifically for them: the Single in Neigh York Exhibition.”

Every word he said was true, especially about Spike.

When Spike wasn’t fighting magical creatures by night, he was the head of his own organization by day. As well as being a rare antiquities dealer and an expert on ancient artifacts, Spike was a semi-professional archaeologist, a world-class treasure hunter, a lawyer, honorary volunteer firefighter, the owner of the city’s largest manufacturing corporation, a notorious businessman, a soldier-turned-mercenary, medical doctor, a successful male model, a spokesman for several big name products, an international sex god and a world-renowned professional fighter. Many people found him scary, even terrifying, but that was mostly because he got no less than a thousand bucks an hour just to fight other people.

Spike didn’t pay much attention to the T.V., at least not at first. Instead, he noticed a plate of center cut hickory smoked bacon and scrambled eggs, and a bowl of grapes, strawberries and sliced apples on the kitchen table, and a note right next to them.

In an effort to inspire the all-important Equestrian Dragon to take time out of his busy schedule and actually consume a reasonable amount of sustenance, I have taken the liberty of composing a menu for today’s scheduled meals. It is my high hope that these elegantly prepared courses will not share the fate of their predecessors: resting cold and untouched on a computer console. - Luna

Spike then glanced at the menu she had made.

Breakfast: six scrambled eggs, bacon, mixed fresh fruit bowl, freshly squeezed orange juice (no pulp) and whole milk.

Lunch: chicken breast and thigh with garlic seasoning, oven-baked golden herb potato, and streamed broccoli.

Dinner: sirloin steak, asparagus with garlic butter, and roasted red pepper soup with smoked Gouda.

He was quick to notice that pancakes were not on the menu—or on his plate—but Celestia had made everything else (including the bread for the week) except the orange juice. She had even brought in the bottles of milk and cream.

Spike’s ears finally tuned into the interview Celestia was watching.

“Tell me about yourself, Mister Zenith,” Dr. Hearthswarmer said.

“Well, there’s not much to tell,” Spike replied.

“What do you do for a living?” she asked.

“I do nothing. I am rich,” he answered.

Spike could barely listen to a word of what was being said. He decided that he’d heard enough when his past self (the one in the interview) shared that he didn’t believe in sun tanning—artificial or otherwise—because he knew how dangerous ultraviolet radiation was.

He took the T.V. remote from Celestia and changed the channel.

“You just woke up and you’re already in a mood?” she asked.

“In some parts of the world, it’s considered good to know what’s really going on,”

The screen displayed the current events as Celestia started making the orange juice.

“Currently in New Canterlot City, it’s a sunny 75 degrees. The winds are calm, and the relative humidity is 23 percent...”

“Sounds like good weather to be under,” Celestia thought.

“We’re all familiar with the illegal poaching of endangered animals in the wild but never before has an animal in captivity been slaughtered for its pelt. Animal protection groups that monitor the international trade in game contraband have further told us that a white tiger is so rare that the offer of a pelt would surely draw the attention of law enforcement agencies. Shortly before dawn this morning, security staff at the Canterlot Zoo in Trotland discovered the excoriated carcass of its prized three-year-old female tigress. Police sources have suggested that the killing was contracted by a private collector. If the battle to preserve endangered species has moved into the urban zoological park, we must ask ourselves if any animal in the world is safe,”

Spike growled as Celestia asked, “Who would do a thing like that?”

“In other news, officials at a Quested Aerospace research facility in Equestria have denied the rumors that twelve cases of missing Equestrium were in fact stolen from their vaults two weeks ago. A Neigherian terrorist group had claimed responsibility for the alleged theft. However, officials are attributing the discrepancy to a simple clerical error. The E.B.I., which is investigating the matter, had no comment,”

Spike finished his tumbler of milk after wolfing down his breakfast, and grabbed his lunch (which was in a sealed container) from the refrigerator, just as Celestia finished pouring the orange juice into a tall glass.

“Celestia, please, don’t start with the juice again,” he said.

“Spike, you need your Vitamin C,” she told him. “Here’s your briefcase.”

“I don’t need my briefcase,” he protested.

“It’s been a couple of months now, so I say we go out to Malibuck,”

“Don’t tell me those lowlifes have been calling again,” he growled in reply.

“They are your renters. Also, your appointment with Dr. Fauna is tomorrow, don’t look for an excuse to try and cancel or get out of it. Oh, and Fancy Pants is finally back in town. He’s coming over for dinner tonight.”

“Why?” Spike groaned.

“He’s your C.E.O.!”

Spike growled again as he headed for the door to his multi-car garage.

“Here,” she said, trying to give him the juice.

“Forget it!” he said as he tried to leave.

Celestia gave Spike a quick peck on the cheek as he grabbed a ring of keys from a hook on the wall, walked through the adjacent door, and peered into the shadowy space as the lights turned on overhead. He marched into the vast, concrete tiled garage, past a fleet of souped-up muscle cars and other classic high-performance luxury vehicles--including a golden 1966 Dodge Charger, two 1969 Dodge Darts (one blue, one green), a green 1969 Plymounth Road Runner, a red 1970 Plymounth Barracuda, a yellow 1990 Lamborghini Diablo, a black 1998 Porsche 911 Carrera [996], a black 1957 Coltillac, a red 1958 Plymounth Fury, a heavily modified 1971 Lincolt Continental Mk III, a customized 1980 Panther De Ville, several Cords and two cherry red Ferraris--towards the section that he had set aside for his motorcycles.

Spike passed a dark purple Suzuki B-King streetfighter, a black-and-red 2002 Triumph Speed Triple 955i, a massive rad Chopper motorcycle--royal purple with an emerald green flame paint job--and selected the royal blue Aprilia RSV 1000 R.

As his own seat met the seat of the motorcycle, Spike’s pager went off. He checked it and saw a message from the woman from the night before, asking Spike if he was still planning on coming into work that day.

“It’s not even 6:30, and Fleur is already paging me,” he groaned in thought as he clamped his pager back to his belt.

Spike put on his modular helmet, kicked the engine to life, dropped the clutch, and the motorcycle raced forward. A hatch and drawbridge disguised as a grassy hill opened downward into the front lawn and the motorcycle leapt out from a tunnel beneath the castle, and sped down the highway toward New Canterlot City.

Long ago, New Canterlot City had been a small, sturdy town by a wide, deep river and a large lake in a small part of a big Midwestern state. There wasn’t so much wilderness around that one couldn’t see the city; on the other hand, there wasn’t so much city that one could not see, touch and feel the wilderness. It had been there for over 200 years, but every single building was new. Built on reclaimed prairieland in 1786, it was the home of Equestria’s best-dressed store window. They had hunting, fishing, and a charming view of the sunsets. But it was known mostly for its affordable housing originally meant for young couples and happy families... now it was infested with hateful old codgers that simply refused to die and bitter, middle-aged divorcees that attracted wilderness lovers, a few loners and the occasional drifter. If a man was looking for a woman, New Canterlot City was the place. The winters were cold and lonesome, and there wasn’t a higher female-to-male ratio outside of Ponyville or Maretropolis. Oh, there were men in New Canterlot... just not many.

Make no mistake, though. The well trimmed gardens and calm façade hid a very frustrated environment... one full of paranoia and general hostility, where crime--especially marital infidelity--festered. But some refused to give in to sin... no matter how many new faces their temptations were given. The only real problems were the pests: mice, moths, mosquitoes... and monsters. Most people would leave, and a few already had, but not the rest of them. It was a community of almost exclusively Scolttish descent (many of them former Highlanders); they had stubbornness issues.

And even though New Canterlot’s total population was only 1,600 actual registered citizens--not counting the over one thousand college students and thousands of other people that commuted from other areas for work--it was still large enough that it had two baseball teams, the New Canterlot Knights and the New Canterlot Stallions, a basketball team, the New Canterlot Mustangs, an Equestrian football team, the New Canterlot Broncos, and an ice hockey team, the New Canterlot Bucks.

On the right was the drive in, the drive-thru, the drive-up and the dry cleaners; on the left, Big Tex’s Burgers, home of the “two-pound, double-bacon, double-cheese tongue-tantalizing, people-pleasing ton of fun on a bun.” The museum had the fastest turtle, seediest apple, and the only known prehistoric horse skeleton. It also had a high school, grade school, preschool, summer school, cemetery, aviary, and the home of Chunky Berry.

And Spike Zenith hated all of it.

He hated New Canterlot City.

It was a place full of memories that he would rather forget.

There was no place in the world he would rather not go ever again.

He didn’t fit in; he didn’t fit in anywhere.

Not only that, but nothing seemed to make him happy.

But he went into the city, anyway.

He didn’t know why; force of habit, more than anything.

And as he drove, Spike wondered if anything would ever change and for the better.

“Will that day ever come?” he asked himself in thought.

He doubted it.

Everywhere he went, the women were immodestly covered. Even though it was near autumn, many sported bare legs and pants so tight he saw the separation between their butt cheeks. His groin stirred, his cock hardening, as he crossed the stone bridge over the quiet pond in Beaumount Park and arrived at New Canterlot University.

Originally a prestigious school best known for their exclusively skirt student body, New Canterlot University (NCU) was infamous for accepting female students from New Canterlot High School and Crystal Prep Academy. It had become coed only a few years ago, when the newly appointed Dean Cadence Amore announced that she was changing the admissions practices of the school. Dozens of young men and women who never dreamed of going to college signed up immediately. Abacus Cinch, the greedy former headmistress of the University, naturally flipped. The sole reason she allowed the school to become co-ed was because she was convinced that more students attending would mean more money. However, the former all-female institute still retained a 70% female population, keeping them in the majority.

Spike’s motorcycle slowed as he rounded the turn, and he paused as he saw the dozens of young men and women in identical uniforms walking up the low hill toward the main building.

There were two types of uniforms for the women: long-sleeved jackets or sleeveless vests. Since it was August, most of them were wearing the jacket; a basic black with a chic design, giving out an elegant look, with the school’s emblem on the pocket above the left breast. Add the red ties, and the good gets better. And finally, the pleated black-and-red plaid skirts, which varied in length, as did the black socks.

“This is as scratchy as tweed,” one of the girls complained about hers. “A sack of potatoes has more panache! It’s criminal, downright oppressive!”

The boys’ uniforms were much simpler; black suit jackets with red trim and black slacks. Aside from their hair color, the kids look like they had just come off an assembly line. But Spike recognized six of the young men: Tender Taps, Rumble, Pipsqueak, Featherweight, Snips and Snails. Tender Taps was a very shy but very skilled dancer who unfortunately suffered from crippling stage fright; Rumble was a determined kid with a lot of heart who dreamed of following in his older brother’s footsteps as a fighter pilot, Pipsqueak, or “Pip” for short, was a brown-haired, brown-eyed foreign exchange student from Trottingham; Featherweight was an aspiring young reporter working as a part-time intern at the New Canterlot City Tribune, and Snips and Snails were a fat and skinny pair reminiscent of any of the old comedy duos.

At the moment, they were talking to a group of six older girls standing--and sitting--together around the fountain before class. Spike started to look longingly at the six young women. They were all smart, pretty and different in their own unique ways... and Spike had befriended each of them very, very gradually.

The first girl was Applejack Smith; a tall, deceptively strong, extraordinarily lovely farmer’s daughter with a long blonde ponytail and Southern drawl. She was third-year student and recent transfer who didn’t believe in anything that she couldn’t see with her own two eyes. She reminded Spike of the Amarezon warriors.

The fiery redhead was Sunset Shimmer, a beautiful former bully and bad girl of many talents and interests with an even more beautiful heart.

Fluttershy, a kind, timid, gentle, pale, breathtaking young babe of a woman as lovely as her name, sweeter than any honey, who was known for her big bust size, her collection of stuffed animals... and her bikini-clad photo spreads in Equestria Weekly magazine, courtesy of the photographer (and former classmate) Photo Finish.

Then there was Pinkie Pie, a very positive, energetic, chipper, talented baker and chemistry major who loved every shade of pink from hot pink to soft pink, but unfortunately had a bad habit of taking her clothes off at the most inappropriate moments (mostly because of her lack of shame).

Rainbow Dash, a tomboy whose boldness and tan complexion made her stand out among the other girls, was the captain of literally every female sports team at New Canterlot City University--except cheerleading--who prided herself on “being one of the guys” and also held the college’s title of “Heaviest Drinker”.

And finally, Rarity St. Germaine, a lovely lady with almond-shaped eyes and always perfectly brushed purple hair, ranked high on the “Most Eligible Bachelorettes” list, she was the resident drama queen and man-eater, yet had a reputation for staying single. The first time she saw Spike, it didn’t start out well... and it only got worse.

Presently, Rarity was nibbling on a low-fat mini-muffin while Pinkie Pie gorged herself on orange juice, a cheesy frittata, a chocolate biscotti and a box of bacon-flavored doughnuts.

“Early morning, sweetest part of the day,” Pinkie said with a sigh, “quiet, peaceful, just me... and these succulent little babies, right here. You gals want some?”

Sunset Shimmer looked at Fluttershy, who was repeatedly running one of her hands through her pale pink hair, and asked, “Hey, did you get your hair cut? Why’d you get a haircut?”

“It’s because she hopes Spike will be here today, right?” Applejack teased.

“Spike has nothing to do with it,” Fluttershy lied.

“Wait, Spike’s back in town?” Pinkie asked. “As in ‘hot babysitter Spike’?”

Fluttershy blushed and nodded as she remembered the man in question tucking her into bed one night while her parents went out to dinner. She was just a little girl back then, but now she was a young woman, and Spike... well, Spike was a man of the world.

“Who?” Featherweight asked, as if he didn’t know (because he didn’t).

“Spike Zenith, of Zenith Industries and the Zenith Foundation; also known as Spike Zenith, the richest man in the world,” Fluttershy said.

“We used to beg our parents to call him,” Pinkie said. “I think Fluttershy even chipped in her allowance once!”

Fluttershy blushed again.

They all knew Fluttershy was bashful, diffident, self-conscious, timid and coy. She was so demure and skittish, she couldn’t help acting shy. And they all knew the reason why.

Spike Zenith stepped out of every woman’s dream. He had the kind of body that would shame bodybuilders and a face that would make any man proud... and he cooked and sewed as well. In martial arts he was beyond compare, once threw a bull at the county fair, superior at boxing and lifting weights, and outfought the champs of every single one of the Equestrian States. They had never known anyone even a fraction as skilled and talented as he was.

He had the world at his feet.

His life was everyone’s envy.

He’d never had a want, and he never would.

He lived like a king, with his hands covered in big gold and silver rings, full of emeralds, rubies, sapphires, diamonds and pearls, and girls, girls, girls, girls, girls.

In their minds, he did whatever he felt like doing all the time. Spike did what he wanted, when he wanted, and how he wanted it. He was the epitome of freedom.

“Ah, Spike,” Sunset sighed.

“What’s so great about Spike?” Rumble asked. “I mean, seriously, what do you girls see in that guy?”

“Should we start with his feet and work our way up?” Sunset asked.

“Or his hair and work our way down?” Pinkie added. “He’s a super mysterious hunk with good looks and a perfectly sculpted body; a strong chest, broad shoulders, a chiseled chin, a handsome nose, and the faintest hint of a Scolttish accent. He’s just such... a man. Such class, such distinction... Not to mention, he’s so suave and sophisticated and handsome--”

“I’m just as handsome as he is!” Snips interjected. “If I had his chin and his chest... and his abs... and his muscles, and his deep voice...”

“Hey! You forgot his cute dimples!” Pinkie told him.

“He is pretty cool, all right,” Applejack admitted.

“Um, don’t you mean... cute?” Fluttershy asked.

“Spike rocks!” Pinkie continued. “Hard worker, sharp dresser, you gotta respect that.”

“Respect,” Sunset agreed.

When they first met Spike, there was very little known about him. What people did know about him was that he was a stunningly wealthy, extremely wealthy man. He collected everything from vintage automobiles to fine wines; he was living a life that most people dream about. Not only did he own a castle valued at over one trillion Equestrian dollars, he had (among many other things) a massive 30 million dollar house in South Flankida, one of the largest townhouses in New Yoke City, an entire apartment building in Mareis, Prance; his own private, permanently reserved V.I.P. box at the Kentbucky Derby; several private islands (plural) in the Carriagebean, a sprawling ranch in New Mexicolt, helicopters, airplanes, mines full of diamonds, and an endless supply of clams and oysters for harvesting pearls. And even though he was no longer the chief executive officer, he was still the founder and owner of Zenith Industries, the dominant economic force in New Canterlot City.

They had also heard that Spike practiced and taught all kinds of martial arts, so not only was he super-manly, but super tough, too. All the male students at New Canterlot University idolized him and the female students practically fell at his feet. He was a friend to animals as well as a philanthropist, plus he had been named “Sexiest Man Alive” multiple times in all of the most popular magazines. He was a modern day knight in a world overrun with brainless morons. But he was so popular that he seemed to show no interest in dating at all. That being said, that didn’t keep women from continuing to confess their love to him.

“Would all of you stop?” Rainbow Dash snapped. “Sure, there’s no question that Spike’s a twelfth-degree stud with great hair, dreamy eyes, and a cute smile, but that doesn’t change the fact that...” Rainbow Dash paused, startled, and felt a peculiar sensation sweep along her spine. Her lips parted into a soft gasp. “He’s standing right behind me, isn’t he?” she asked.

“No, just over there,” Pinkie said, pointing across the courtyard.

They all swung around and whitened; for they saw that the subject of their conversation had pulled up along the curb across the way.

“He’s got a motorcycle?” Dash grinned when she saw it. “Now that’s hot.”

Being an athlete, Rainbow Dash was markedly attracted to such things. Plus it was against the University’s rules for students to come to school on a motorbike—it gave Spike kind of a bad boy vibe—which Dash liked (in fact, it made her like him even more).

Spike removed his helmet, revealing wavy green hair that topped the most handsome face they had seen outside of a movie, feathered away from those piercing emerald eyes, which gleamed even when narrowed against the sunlight, above the sharp, handsome nose, firm jaw, and the strong chin, which whispered of his Europonean ancestry. At six-foot-two, with strong arms and long legs, he was as smoking hot as the motorcycle he rode. His smile was also perfect. His hands were large and manicured and his face seemed to have been frozen in time, untouched by the developments of style and technology. But, despite the fact that he was very well-built, his movements were elegant and graceful like a big jungle cat.

Transcendent and gorgeous were just a few of the first words that sprang to mind. He cut an imposing figure, his well-honed physique shown to best advantage in that custom black leather jacket. His dark blue Wranglers were brand new, perfectly tailored, and his black boots unscuffed. He reminded them of Flint Westwood back in his spaghetti Western days. Anyone would have to be legally blind and brain-dead to not see how unforgettable he was.

As he walked slowly away from his motorcycle, and made his way across the courtyard, he was met with multiple passionate gazes and sighs from the female students and a collective “Whoa,” from the guys.

“Hey, check out that guy...”

“Wh-who’s that?”

“I don’t know,”

“He is fine!”

“Wow, he’s hot!”

“He’s, like, really hot,”

“He’s beyond hot!”

“He’s way too hot to be a student here,”

“He’s like a model,”

“Is he a model?”

“I like him,”

“I love him!” one woman said.

“It’d be great if someone like him was my boyfriend,” said another woman.

“Who is he?!”

These weren’t the first girls to check him out (and they wouldn’t be the last, either). It wasn’t Spike’s fault he was a hard man to ignore—but his height and broad shoulders made it hard to hide in a crowd. His green hair, emerald eyes and clear skin added to the striking looks that had a bad habit of attracting female attention. Almost all women took a second look.

He was a pheromone-arousing package of good-looking male.

“Like, wow,” they all thought. “Just wow.”

Needless to say, he was easy on the eyes... very easy.

Suddenly, the mob of girls stampeded toward him as if he were a rock star, trying to touch him or just to get a glimpse of the famous young man. Some even wanted autographs.

“Wh-who are you?” one of them asked timidly.

“Do you have a brother?”

“Or even a half-brother?”

“Wh-What’s your name?”

“Zenith,” he answered. “Spike Zenith. Nice to meet you.”

His voice was rich like dark chocolate, mature and extremely soothing. And just like that, their heads were swimming. When he looked at them, all their normal thoughts, their priorities, their feelings... all seemed to just vanish into thin air.

“Like, wow!” they sighed.

“Rrrrroow!” others purred.

“Oh, my God, you are such a hottie!”

“Are you single?”

“Are you free? Do you wanna hang out with us?”

“You’re so handsome! Do you want to go out with me?”

“Don’t go out with her, go out with me!”

“Go out with me! Please!”

“Please go out with me!”

“No, go out with me!”

“No, with me!”

“With me!”

“I only have eyes for you!”

“Marry me!”

“Or you could just be my husband!”

No less than two dozen of the female students surrounded him, almost screaming, “No, with me! With me!”

“As if!” Spike thought as he gently shoved them all away.

Spike Zenith didn’t date women younger than himself... especially not college girls. They were like puppies—or some other hyperactive animal that jumped on and slobbered all over him—always in constant need of attention.

Dragons were notoriously picky.

“Here he comes,” Snips said. “Betcha he says hi to me.”

“Nah, not his style,” Snails replied. “Spike doesn’t say ‘hi.’ He’s too cool for... ‘Hi.’”

“Hi, Spike,” Snips said. “He blinked! Did you see that?”

“He totally ignored you,” Snails replied.

“Blinked,”

“Ignored,”

“Hold on, that’s Spike Zenith?” Pipsqueak asked. “I thought he was just a myth.”

“I heard he scored five cheerleaders, the coach and the coach’s two daughters all in the same summer!” Rumble said.

“All the girls at dance camp knew about him,” Tender Taps shared.

“Come on, guys, those are just rumors,” Featherweight told them.

For a brief moment, Spike couldn’t help but think about their lives and how nice it must be to just be normal eighteen, nineteen, or twenty-something kids about to finish school. But then he thought of how his meditation techniques really needed some work, and of how he could use a couple of hours concentrating on his breathing control.

At first he thought, “Why should I make friends with humans, people who would kill me if they knew what I was? What if I give myself away?”

But the yearning continued.

It was then that Spike realized that he did not know how to make friends.

He had always had other dragons around him, dragons that now hid in their separate caves. There had always been dragons. He had never had to reach out for company, it was always there. They were still around, of course, but now he couldn’t bear to be with them, and they could never just be his friends, either. The males and females all saw each other as potential mates—be nice to one, and the others would sulk and snap. Fight, fight, fight, that’s what paying attention to them meant.

“I want other friends,” Spike thought.

But no one seemed to want him.

He was tall and striking, like his father, with a full chest, slim waist, and strong hips... enough to show he was male. His skin was gently pale; it had always been pale, and his hair was thick and green.

So why did most people stop talking whenever he approached them or answered his openings with terse words that killed any conversations that he tried to start? Was he too good-looking? Was that the threat they saw? He was a handsome specimen, he knew—the dragonesses roared for him—but what did human eyes perceive?

Spike knew he had an uncontrollable appeal to women.

The human females, young girls and adult women, nudged each other when he passed; he’d seen them out of the corner of his eye. They noticed him. And he understood why they blushed and stammered if he talked to them. There were always shy girls who would die if any guy noticed them. But where were the bold ones?

But male or female, humans resisted him.

He was halfway across the courtyard when he was stopped by another trio of cute girls.

The first was Apple Bloom, a redhead with a pink bow in her hair, who was Applejack’s younger sister, and she was currently dating Tender Taps. The second girl was Sweetie Belle. As well as being Rarity’s younger sister, she had some kind of love-hate relationship with Rumble (they weren’t dating, but no one really knew for sure exactly what it was). And finally, Scootaloo, another tanned tomboy who looked up to Rainbow Dash like a big sister and had really grown since last summer (she was beginning to think she’d never need a bra). She was an Aussie, but she didn’t talk like one (no accent). The buzz about her was that her parents had an arrangement with her father’s sister and her partner so that whenever Scootaloo wasn’t going to school she spent part of the year in Chicoltgo with the aunts and the other part in Austailia (that’s AusTAILia, not Australia) with her mom and dad. But for now, she was happy in New Canterlot City with her friends.

“Why am I even coming to this stupid orientation with you two if I’m not even sure I’m going to college?” Scootaloo asked them. “College is no guarantee of a job. It’s a useless waste of time. I mean, Spike never went to college and he makes lots of money making weapons for the military... and he always drives a nice car.”

“Speaking of whom, looks like you’re a little late again today,” Sweetie Belle told him.

“So?” Spike replied indifferently.

“Well, we’d just like to see ya for more than a few seconds before ya have to go to work, that’s all,” said Apple Bloom.

“Oh? You’re starting to sound like you want to go out with me or something,” he replied.

Spike managed to keep his expression bland, but his piercing gaze made her blush.

Damn. She’d inadvertently drawn his attention to her major flaw: redheads were notorious blushers. On the other hand, only a blind man would miss Apple Bloom’s brazen hair.

“It’s not just ‘any’ or ‘something,’ I do want to go out with you, Spike,” Sweetie Belle said quietly, her face heating with her own blush. “That is, if you want to.”

“Zenith, don’t make any of them cry!” Rumble warned him. “If you do, you’ll have their big sisters coming after you!”

“Oh, don’t worry!” Sweetie Belle told him. “We are not crying, at all!”

“Spike Zenith!” Applejack shouted.

Spike ducked as Applejack threw a textbook at his head. It flew across the courtyard and landed in a tree behind him, scaring the birds that had been nesting in it.

“Ya’ll have got some nerve, pickin’ on my little sister, ya dirt bag!” she said as she grabbed him by the collar of his leather jacket.

“Will you calm down?” he asked. “I was only talking to her.”

“That’s right, sis! He wasn’t pickin’ on me,” Apple Bloom said. “We were just talkin’.”

Applejack relaxed and slowly let go of his jacket. As tough as she was, AJ deeply cared for her younger sister... but she cared for Spike just as much (even if she did have an odd way of showing it). He was one of the few good things in her life, in all of their lives. And she cherished every moment with him, every touch.

And feeling his leather in her hand was one of those many moments.

Spike shrugged as he readjusted his jacket and looked toward the other girls, and Fluttershy smiled a big smile as she waved at him.

“Yo, Spike,” Rainbow Dash greeted him. “What’s cracking?”

“What’s up, Dash?” he replied.

“Spike, what’s up?” Pinkie asked. “You want some bacon-flavored doughnuts?”

“Thanks, I’m good,” he politely refused.

They were soon joined by another girl. Trixie Lulamoon, daughter of the famous stage magician, Jack Pot, and one of Spike’s fewest, oldest and closest friends. She had grown up to be every bit the magician her father was, both on and off the stage.

She shuffled the playing cards she was holding and told Spike to draw three from the deck: the Queen of Spades, the Ten of Diamonds, and the Ace of Hearts.

“Looks like you’re going to be late again tomorrow,” she told him. “On your way to work, you’ll have a romantic meeting with a sweet girl. You’ll forget all about the time, and that’s why you’re going to be late.”

“Seems to be oddly specific,” he thought.

“Is that so?” Applejack smiled.

“And just what is that supposed to mean?” he asked her.

“Nothin’ at all, lover boy,” Applejack replied, patting his shoulder.

Spike brushed off her comment as he looked at Fluttershy again, who raced over and hugged him, clinging to him tightly. He noticed that she didn’t have her lunch with her. He gave her his meal—the garlic chicken with the golden potato and broccoli—and remembered that it was the exact same meal he was eating when she last saw him.

It was a couple of years back, when Spike was walking along the wall of the University’s main building. He had been debating with himself on where to eat when he looked into the courtyard and saw a beautiful, demure girl with very, very long hair and delicate, pale skin sitting alone beneath one of the trees. She was a third year student, maybe even a little older than that, even if she didn’t look like it. She was at least two years older than the rest of the students, including Applejack. Her eyes were as blue as the sea and as skittish as a newborn filly’s.

“Hi,” he said as he sat down beside her.

His voice was deep and smooth, calm but firm. It was the voice of a handsome man, the kind of masculine baritone that always made her heart beat a little faster. Yet it complimented his boyish good looks almost perfectly.

As she looked up at his perfect face, his fierce yet gentle gaze seemed to consume her.

“Are you eating alone?” he asked.

“What do you want?” she asked in the softest, sweetest voice he had ever heard.

It was the barest, breathless whisper, but Spike heard it.

“Nothing,” he replied. “I was just wondering why you were eating lunch alone.”

“The leaves sure are pretty, aren’t they?” she asked, looking up at them. “They really take my breath away.”

“They’ll be gone soon,” he said. “Just wait. By this time next week, it’ll be like they were never here in the first place.”

“That’s true. But they’ll come back next year. And the year after that, and the year after that... if only for a while, they’ll be beautiful again,”

Spike removed the lid from the box containing his food and the girl’s mouth started to water from the aroma.

“Did you make that?” she inquired.

“No, one of my servants did,” he replied. “Would you like some?”

She appreciated his kind offer. Then he quickly remembered that he had only one set of eating utensils with him... so he gave her his whole meal.

“It’s really good,” she said after tasting some of the potato and broccoli.

He smiled in reply.

She had trouble meeting his eyes directly because his gaze was so strong.

He had a fire in his eyes that wouldn’t let go—intense emeralds that were thousands of years old and had seen everything.

“Let me ask you something. Do you like this place?”

“No, not really,” he answered.

“I have to say that I love this place very, very much. I used to have friends I could talk to and teachers I was close to. But now, it’s just... I had to take the year over so everything’s changed. I was sick, out of school for a long time last year, so everything’s different. Everybody that I knew is graduated and moved on with their lives, so there isn’t anyone I know here anymore. Fun things, happy things, they’ll all... they’ll all eventually change someday. But can you still love this place?”

She tried to keep the trembling from her voice.

Spike listened hard, for her voice was still the softest whisper.

“All you have to do is just go out there and find more,” he said. “It’s not that difficult.”

She laughed to herself, a light, melodic sound that lifted Spike’s heart and made him think of happier days.

“Oh! I’m sorry. I’ve only just met you and I’m telling you all this!”

“It’s okay,” he smiled.

“I have to admit, I’ve always been shy and kind of clumsy. Everybody I’ve known used to always tease me about it,” she said. “I guess I don’t stand out much, even in my own classes.”

“Well, if you’re always looking so sad, you won’t make any friends. Aren’t you in any of the clubs?” he asked her.

“Well, I really wanted to join the Midsummer Theatre, but I don’t know,” she shared. “Physically, I’m weak, so I can’t be very active. I don’t think I’d get any parts.”

“If that’s the case then just do what you can,” Spike told her. “Why not at least check them out after class?”

She did... only to find the room that its members usually met in was empty.

She also learned that the Midsummer Theatre had been on hiatus since Charity Kindheart retired in March of the previous year. And even though it (technically) was headed by one of the students, Miss Coco Pommel, it had been disbanded because there weren’t enough people interested in it to keep it going.

“I had heard they’d always had few members,” the girl admitted.

“But they can get going again once all the requirements are met,” Spike said. “Why don’t you just hang in there a little bit longer? I’ll help you.”

“Can I ask you something? I’m sorry, but I don’t understand why you’re being so nice to me? You only just met me a little while ago,”

“Why am I being nice? Don’t know, good question,”

She coughed, trying to push aside the girlish thoughts that were beginning to bubble inside of her. And when she finally smiled at him, Spike’s breath caught in his throat at the gentle curve of her lips. He was struck by her beauty. It was a soft, gentle beauty that grew with each second he looked at her. She was stunning.

Spike couldn’t help but notice that her quiet competence around him was a direct contrast to her behavior around other people. He’d always had a way with other beings—they instinctively trusted him. But humans were a distinctly different species, especially the women. This girl didn’t need any great perceptive skills to realize that the others treated him like a pariah. For most women, that would be a steer-clear clue that he was a man to be avoided, and with his height and size, the last instinct he usually aroused in females was security. Yet she treated him as if she’d instantly labeled him “safe,” no one who was going to cause her trouble.

Fluttershy could see right from the start Spike had a good heart.

“Well, I have to go,” he said.

He stood up to leave, telling her that she could keep the rest of his meal.

“By the way, my name is Fluttershy Breeze,” she stood up and properly introduced herself. “What about you?”

“Does it matter? I’m just a guy who decided to share his lunch with you,”

“It might not mean much to you, but if I ran into you again and didn’t know your name I would feel bad,” she told him.

Seeing her point, Spike smiled at her again. He couldn’t help it. She just made him smile; it was like an infection... a good kind.

“I’m Spike Zenith,” he said.

“It’s very nice to meet you,”

“Yes, same here,”

She extended her hand to him and he took it, careful not to crush it. Humans were so delicate. That’s when Fluttershy noticed a dark mark on the back of his right hand, at the base of his scarred knuckles. It curled around his wrist, all the way up his right forearm and ended just short of the elbow.

“Hey, that’s a really cool dragon tattoo,” she complimented.

“Actually, it’s a birthmark, believe it or not,” he replied.

They heard the school bell ring and Fluttershy bid him farewell before taking off for class. At the time, Spike didn’t think much of it. But now that he looked back, he realized that was not the first time he’d met Fluttershy.

That morning...

The next time Spike saw Fluttershy, he found her standing in the courtyard with a broom, sweeping up by herself. After she had finished, they talked and they talked. Somehow, the conversation shifted to the point where Spike shared that he had been a member of the city’s boxing club. But when he said that he’d quit, Fluttershy asked if he’d come to hate sports because of that. He told her no, but he also told her that he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d put on the gloves.

“Hey, Spike, why not spar with me?” she asked. “Teach me how to box. I’ll wait for you in the boxing gym after class tomorrow.”

The following day, Spike stood at one of the colossal windows of his mansion, looking out at the cloudy sky.

Fluttershy’s words still echoed in his ears.

“Teach me how to box.”

He thought that, because it was raining, there was no way she would be there... just waiting for him. But he decided to go to the gym anyway. And when he did, he found her standing in the rain... without a coat and without an umbrella.

“What are you doing out here?” he shouted. “You should have gone home!”

“But if you came after I left, I wouldn’t have been able to meet you to box,”

“There was no guarantee that I would come, was there?”

“But you did, didn’t you?”

Spike’s face softened, and his anger was quickly replaced with shock.

“You’ve always been there for me,” Fluttershy said. “I thought the least I could do was spar with you to pay you back. At least show me how to punch and how to block. I’ve never seen a boxer throw a punch up close...”

He nodded and they went into the locker rooms to change.

Spike came back out, and not a moment too soon, because he saw the exact moment that Fluttershy was being harassed by two thugs.

“Hey, where you going, baby?” one of them chuckled. “Come on!”

Fluttershy’s face wasn’t flushed, it was stark white. Even from yards away, Spike could see her expression wasn’t flustered or embarrassed, but downright scared, and she ran as the pair approached her. She quickened her pace as a third punk joined in the chase and they trapped her with her back to a corner.

Spike recognized the bullies as Hoops Dunkington, Dumb-Bell and Score. They were all jocks, but not good ones. They could run well, but they couldn’t hold onto a ball even if it had a handle. Hoops said something—undoubtedly some kind of vulgar compliment, because it made Dumb-Bell laugh.

“Are you here alone?” Hoops asked.

“You’re pretty cute,” Dumb-Bell added as he tried to grab her by the shoulder.

“Do you wanna have a little fun with us?” Score asked.

Spike saw when Hoops hooked an arm around Fluttershy’s waist and Score snatched something from her neck.

“That’s mine! Give it back!” she shouted.

“Admit it!” Score taunted her. “You believe in dragons!”

“So what if I do?” she asked.

“Everyone knows they’re just fairytales!” Dumb-Bell added.

“Get off me!” she shouted as she lashed out with her hands and feet.

She tried to fight them, but they easily overpowered her.

“You’ve got really nice tits. The real deal,” Hoops said as he reached for them. “And dressing like this make you even cuter—”

Protectiveness flared deep inside Spike. All his attention was on her when he stalked over, his step so quiet that no one even realized he was there—until he suddenly appeared, positioned himself between Hoops and Fluttershy, then he reached out and smacked Hoops’ hand away. It was as if he’d just appeared out of nowhere.

“She may look cute but that doesn’t give you permission to touch her, you bastard!”

The three bullies were taken aback by Spike’s sudden interference and Fluttershy gasped as she watched as her assailants were dragged away by Spike!

“Get lost,” Hoops told him.

He had a beer flush and the adrenaline of rage was flashing in his eyes.

“I said, leave her alone!” Spike growled as her bullies, the reason for her panic, approached again.

How dare they even consider touching her.

Spike rose to his fullest height and his widest stance; the better to protect her.

“If you don’t know how to respect a woman I’ll have to teach you,” he said. “I will do anything to get what I want. And I want you on your knees, begging forgiveness from this lady.”

Spike didn’t really want to fight them... unfortunately, getting their butts handed to them was the only way those three were going to learn their lesson.

“I should warn you, I promised my mother a long time ago. I had to give people a chance to walk away,” he said.

“You a momma’s boy?” Hoops asked.

“She liked to see fair play,”

“There’s three of us and one of you,”

“You can still walk away,”

“You can’t take us three-on-one,”

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe one of you will stay on your feet long enough to get to me. But which one of you will it be? You have no way of knowing. One of you will be taking the other two to the hospital for a six-month stay. You want to take those odds?”

Spike’s hands were down at his sides, his feet apart, securely planted. He could feel the earth through the soles of his shoes. He folded the fingers of his left hand flat against his palm, raised the hand, very slowly, brought it level with his shoulder, palm out. The three bullies stared at it; the way Spike’s fingers were folded made them think he was hiding something. But what?

He snapped his fingers open. There was nothing there. In the same split second, he moved sideways, heaved his right fist up, and caught Hoops with a colossal uppercut to the jaw. The massive impact snapped his jaw shut, lifted him up off the ground, and dumped him back down in a vertical heap on the ground, like a marionette with its strings cut, unconscious before he even hit the ground.

Score and Dumb-Bell sprang back and apart into wide defensive stances, crouched and fists ready. They weren’t total amateurs. They reacted well and pretty fast.

“Now it’s two against one,” Spike said as he landed a right cross to Score’s nose.

“What the Tartarus?” Score exclaimed as he cradled his face with his hands.

“Didn’t your mothers tell you to fight fair?” Spike asked them.

Enraged, Score ran at Spike with his head low, aiming for Spike’s chest; looking to drive him backward and have him stumble and fall to the ground, whereupon Dumb-Bell could pile in with him and stomp Spike and kick him to their hearts’ content.

That was a big mistake.

Score charged and Spike turned slightly sideways, bent his knees a little, timed it just right, and drove all his weight up and forward off his back foot through his shoulder straight into Score’s face, breaking his already bleeding nose.

Spike had hardly moved at all, but Score bounced back, stunned, staggering on stiff legs, desperately trying to stay upright.

The two punks spread out and Spike proceeded to give them a beat down.

First, he head-butted Score... then he delivered an elbow to Dumb-Bell’s jaw.

He practically danced around them.

“How’d he do that?” Dumb-Bell thought.

Spike rehearsed his next moves; main difficulty would be limiting the damage. Careful restraint would be required. He stepped in and kicked Dumb-Bell in the groin, but with his left foot. Right-footed, he would have popped bits of the guy’s pelvis out through his nose.

“A rotten way to win in a fight, but it’s effective,” Spike thought. “One day that big soft heart of yours is what’ll get you killed…” he added, “... but not today.”

Then Score pulled a switchblade.

“A cowardly choice of weapon,” Spike thought.

While Spike’s back was turned, Hoops (having regained consciousness) pulled out a TASER and zapped Spike from behind with it... but the shock had absolutely no effect on him. Then Spike turned and punched Hoops square in the jaw after he took the stun gun from him and crushed it in his bare hand.

Hoops gasped and swore that he saw fire coming from Spike’s mouth, but he couldn’t be sure because before he could even throw another cheap shot, Spike had crouched, spun around and swept Hoops’ legs out from under him. Spike spun back with an elbow to the head for Dumb-Bell, ducked under the inevitable roundhouse swing coming from Score, let him follow through, and put an elbow in his kidney, forcing him to drop his knife.

In the end, except for the TASER attack, Spike was untouched... and Hoops, Score and Dumb-Bell all ended up on their backs.

“Up on your knees, insects... Now!” Spike said. He picked up Score’s switchblade and tore the fabric of the bullies’ shirts with it. “When I get bored with tearing your clothes, I’ll tear out your hearts.”

Another cut in the fabric and the whites of their eyes were wide with satisfying fear.

“Swear you will never touch her again,” Spike told them.

“We swear,” Hoops, Score and Dumb-Bell replied. “Forgive us!” they added.

“Now get out of here,” Spike growled.

The trio slowly got to their feet, still groggy from their injuries, then turned and ran back the way they’d come.

Spike discarded the ugly blade into a nearby trashcan and turned to see Fluttershy still cowering in the corner.

He asked, “Are you all right?”

Fluttershy was breathing heavily as she looked at him.

“It’s all right,” he said. “You’re safe now.”

That’s when Spike saw the tears in her eyes.

“I-I’m sorry. I-I-I didn’t mean...” she cried softly. Her voice shook as she said it. “I’m always... I’m always causing you trouble... I’m...”

Fluttershy suddenly felt lightheaded, like she was overcome with a fever. She fainted as Spike reached out and caught her before she hit the ground; his muscular arms around her felt oddly familiar, almost like they were meant to be there.

The last thing she heard before passing out was Spike calling her name.

Spike bowed his head in acquiescence, his strong arms wrapped around her, pressing her against a chest as warm and hard as sun-soaked stone, followed by his wings, as he felt her go limp in his arms. Never had he held anything more precious than her trembling form, and he would protect her with every part of his being. He began to whirl her around, spinning in a tight circle that only seemed to squeeze her harder, smother her, until she could no longer breathe and darkness took her, and they were transported to a room with a pink-swathed single bed.

This was where she slept.

Spike unfurled his wings, so that he could carry her to her bed. Her scent filled the air between them, winding its sweet, floral fragrance about him as securely as any spell. He didn’t want to let her go.

She gave a little sigh, as if she shared the sentiment.

But sentiment was all it could ever be.

He was her protector. It was his duty to keep her safe.

He tugged off her shoes and covered her with the duvet as triumph swelled in his chest. He had successfully protected her; maybe not perfectly, but he’d gotten her home safe.

Rustling from the bed told Fluttershy she was awake. When she opened her eyes, she was lying in her bed at home with her parents, Gentle Breeze and Posey Shy, looking at her with great concern.

“Fluttershy, we were so worried,” her mother began.

“Your trainer told us you had collapsed,” her father added.

Fluttershy’s memory of that day was so murky she could barely remember it.

“My... my trainer?” she asked weakly.

“Your trainer who said he was teaching you self-defense,” her mother, Posey, replied. “Fluttershy, why didn’t you tell us you were taking a self-defense class?”

“It’s okay,” Gentle Breeze gently jumped in. “He also told us that he was teaching you free of charge, so don’t worry about it. And because he was so quick in getting Doctor Horse to come here, you’re going to be all right... Try to rest now,” he said, kissing his daughter’s forehead before leaving.

Before they left her to rest, they also told Fluttershy that the doctor had told them that she needed to stay in bed for a few days. What her parents didn’t tell her was that as soon they got home, Spike was on his way out. That’s when he introduced himself to them as Fluttershy’s self-defense trainer and explained to them what had happened. Then they told him that as a thank you for his kindness in saving their daughter’s life they were forever in his debt. If he ever needed anything, all he had to do was ask.

Posey Shy had insisted Fluttershy stay home, in her old bedroom, as if she were still a child and not a young woman trying to finish college. And Fluttershy had considered telling her parents that she was still sick, so that she wouldn’t have to go outside the house and risk seeing her bullies again. But those thoughts quickly dispersed when Fluttershy turned her head and saw a long white and green striped garment neatly folded on top of her nightstand.

Spike had left her his scarf.

The scarf he had been wearing earlier that day.

She smiled, settled down again, before snuggling back down under the quilt, and drifted back to sleep.

Fluttershy had never been strong as a child, and not just physically.

She had been depressed for a very long time. At cleanup time at school, the whole class would work together at first; but before Fluttershy knew it, she would be left all alone. She tried to get over her depression without anyone’s help. She had lived like that her whole life. But then, when she met Spike, she realized that it wasn’t enough. Thanks to him, she felt much better. He made her so happy that she wasn’t depressed at all anymore.

After that, Spike started going to the boxing gym again... and he started teaching Fluttershy more than just self-defense. Their hearts pounded wildly every time they trained together. Eventually, Fluttershy’s health improved to the point that she wasn’t sickly at all.

Then one day, after their sparring session, Fluttershy said, “I never really thanked you for coming to my rescue.”

“It was nothing,” he replied.

“I-I’m so glad... so glad that I got up the courage to talk to you,” she went on. “I thought you wouldn’t forgive me... after-after I let you get hurt that day.”

“I’m the one who should be apologizing to you,” he told her. “I’m really sorry those guys tried to take advantage of you like that.”

There was a moment of silence before she asked, “I’m so silly, aren’t I?”

“Yes, but you’re also sweet,” he said.

“You think so?”

“We’re more alike than you think. Things may be hard sometimes, but instead of crying alone, call me,”

Fluttershy smiled as she wiped away her tears with the back of her hand, but not before two of them fell onto her chest.

That’s when Spike noticed the piece of gold hanging from the necklace that she was wearing. It was a tiny gold figurine of a dragon with ruby eyes.

“Where did you get that?” he asked.

“It’s none of your business,” she snapped, suddenly defensive.

“Where did you get it?”

When she still wouldn’t answer him, Spike decided to change the question.

“Fluttershy, did you have some kind of childhood experience with dragons?”

She looked away, smiling rather sheepishly.

She remembered that night all too well... the night she first saw the dragon.

A full moon was hanging in the midnight blue sky over Fluttershy’s childhood home and a comet trailed magical light as it shot over the trees in the neighborhood.

Inside the house, a breeze blew through the curtains of Fluttershy’s bedroom window as she slept. She awoke, sat up, and noticed a strange shape being cast from her window and onto the wall across from it. She glanced over her shoulder, threw off her covers, and climbed out of bed. Fluttershy gaped as she peered out her window to see a purple and green dragon land on the lawn in the middle of her backyard. The Equestrian Dragon sniffed the air, looked around, walked past a shrub, and then hid something underneath it. He hid another object further down and then hurriedly flew off.

Excited, Fluttershy, still in her pajamas, grabbed her camera, ran downstairs and hurried outside, only to find the dragon already gone. She glanced over her empty yard then looked down to find two big emeralds in the grass and a tiny gold dragon-shaped pendant on a chain lying between them. Fluttershy picked up the gold dragon necklace and studied it. She glanced around again, returned her fascinated gaze to the piece of jewelry, and placed it around her neck.

That night was almost twenty years ago...

Shy Fluttershy liked her quiet life... until it was turned upside down when she saw the huge creature outside her house. A creature she’d only heard about in books, a creature so terrifying that people only spoke of it in a whisper.

She had kept the two emeralds and the gold dragon necklace, which she always wore. She never took it off, not when she went to sleep... not even to bathe. Now, she collected dragon figurines and other related memorabilia. She even had a stuffed baby dragon plush doll that she loved to cuddle with. It was one of the things that she almost never let her mother wash. And to this day, she still slept with that plushie under her arm every night.

Fluttershy had been infatuated with dragons ever since, even though people made fun of her for believing that they weren’t just fairytales.

Since then, she also dabbled in cryptozoology as well as mythology; she was like a mythical creature fan girl. She read books on dragons and dragon folklore all the time -- strictly small press. Of course, it had been over 1600 years since the last confirmed dragon sighting (every one since then was unconfirmed) but humanity still viewed them as a threat, as monsters.

“‘Monster’ is in the eye of the beholder,” Fluttershy once said. “They fight us because we keep trying to kill them.”

She would have even gotten a pet dragon, if that were possible... but she settled for a green tree python she’d named Rupert. And Fluttershy’s friendship with Spike flourished as well; he’d even introduced her to Dr. Fauna, the city’s veterinarian, a good doctor for Rupert. And speaking of Rupert, that’s who was slithering up Rarity’s leg, causing her to shriek.

“Calm down, you’re scaring him!” Fluttershy exclaimed.

“Scaring him?” Rarity asked.

“He was just giving you a hug,” Fluttershy said calmly.

“I don’t know why you have to bring that thing with you!” Rarity shouted. “You know I hate that thing. It could have bitten me!”

“Rupert is a python,” Fluttershy corrected her. “He doesn’t bite, he squeezes. Besides, I can’t leave him alone at home. Wherever I go, he goes.”

“Yuck!” Rarity gagged as Fluttershy kissed the top of Rupert’s head.

As gross as Rarity thought Fluttershy’s pet was, Fluttershy thought that Rupert was the cutest, most adorable thing in the world... besides Spike, of course.

“Come on, Rupert, say hello,” Fluttershy said as he coiled around her neck. “Tell Rarity you want to be friends.”

Spike smiled again as he glanced at Sunset Shimmer’s homework.

The week before, they had been discussing how many animals, rather than living alone, lived in groups to survive. One could call this self-interest, but some life forms, such as ants, would sacrifice themselves for the good of the colony. And wolves would instinctively place themselves between their newborns and a threat. Such traits were vital to the survival of many species, something from which humanity could learn a lesson.

The quick look at her books told him that they were learning about the ancient pyramids of South Equestria.

“You know, some people believe that the South Equestrians didn’t even build the pyramids,” Rumble commented. “They think it was aliens.”

“Actually, it was goblins,” Spike muttered under his breath.

“What?” Tender Taps asked.

“Nothing,” Spike said quickly.

“It is Mythology 101,” Applejack said. “But we’re talking about stuff like elves and unicorns, stuff that isn’t even real.”

“If she only she knew the truth,” Spike thought.

Being a dragon secretly living among humans, Spike had a more than thorough knowledge of the many truths behind history’s greatest mysteries, especially those connected to magical creatures. And since humanity in general had little to no realization of these facts or events, he had to be careful with what he said and who he said it to... but every once in a while, he would slip up. Even a dragon trained to curb his tongue had to be mindful of such things.

But the girls didn’t argue with him; all they could focus on were those gorgeous green eyes of his.

“So, any of you got plans after class?” he asked.

“The city finally reopened the downtown skate park,” Rainbow Dash said. “I’m gonna hit dat! So, you in or are you in?”

“Sounds sweet,” Spike replied, “but I’ve got to work.”

“No! Not again! This is the eleventh time this month you’ve blown us off!” Pinkie said.

It was true; ever since Spike fully embraced his responsibilities as the Equestrian Dragon, he flaked out on them on a regular basis and (in the process) had acquired a reputation for being just plain weird.

“Maybe next time,” he told them.

“Alright, but I’m telling you, you’re missing out,” Dash replied.

“I’ll see you all around,” he said as he started to walk back across the courtyard, toward his motorcycle. “Oh, Fluttershy!”

He smiled as he tossed her a chocolate peppermint, which she caught with both hands.

“Spike...” Fluttershy sighed dreamily.

“He’s so sweet,” she thought.

“That was a slick move, tossing you a gift just as he’s leaving,” Rainbow Dash said.

“He is quite a charmer,” Sunset Shimmer agreed.

“And a hunk,” she added in thought.

“Tasty treat,” Pinkie Pie joined in. “His eyes have a certain warmth, like a New Trotland sunrise, handsome as a lion... and don’t get me started on that ass,” she carried on as she bit her knuckle. “You should have seen yourself,” she told Fluttershy. “How you held that candy in your hands with a look of love all over your face... It was so cute!”

“Was it really that obvious?” Fluttershy asked, blushing.

“I just wish I had a camera to capture that beautiful moment!” Pinkie sighed with a smile.

“On videotape or in a photograph?” Sunset Shimmer inquired.

“Ooh, good one!” Pinkie replied. “I could watch that forever,” she sighed again as her eyes zoomed in on Spike’s backside.

“I’d much rather sit and look at Spike all day than listen to another one of Juniper Montage’s presentations on the existence of ‘magical creatures’,” Dash put in.

Ah, Juniper Montage. Film director Canter Zoom’s niece, who dreamed of becoming an actress herself one day, her poor people skills and social awkwardness made her oblivious to the discomfort she caused others. She came off as a know-it-all; obsessive, extremely ambitious, highly resourceful, and desperate to prove herself, especially to her uncle, who she openly resented for not taking her seriously.

Suddenly, a dark cloud settled over the courtyard as everyone turned their heads and saw Juniper Montage chewing out a group of boys whose uniforms were “not up to standard.”

“How many times do I have to tell you? Shirts are to be buttoned and belts fastened at the waist!” she shouted.

Almost as soon as Juniper was done ripping into them, she started ripping another group of boys: Hoops Dunkington, Dumb-Bell and Score—the same trio that used to bully Fluttershy—who were looking at a magazine. Hoops, the one that was holding the magazine, snapped it shut.

“Is that pornographic material you’ve got there?” Juniper asked them.

“No, it’s just a magazine,” Hoops said. “It’s got some bikini pin-ups, but they’re tasteful, we swear!”

“Confiscated!” Juniper shouted as she snatched it out of his hands.

“That is so unfair!” Hoops exclaimed. “You girls get to do whatever you want, but we guys get punished for every little thing?”

“Talk about inequality of the genders,” Dumb-Bell grunted.

“If you’re gonna be tough on us you have to be tough on the girls, too!” Score added.

Juniper scowled. “You’re right. But inappropriate content is banned, no matter who is in possession of it,” she said. She glanced at Spike out of the corner of her eye and yelled, “What are you looking at?!”

He snorted in reply as he started his motorcycle and sped off as the school’s bell rang.

“Isn’t he just the cutest?” a charmed Fluttershy gushed.

“I dunno, he seemed really down,” Rainbow Dash noticed. “Sometimes I wish I could figure him out.”

“I know,” said Pinkie. “He acts so together, but he’s really very lonely. The poor guy...”

“It must be cool to have everything,” Sunset added.

“Well, I wouldn’t know!” Rarity remarked rather covetously.

“Go easy on him, Rarity,” Applejack said. “It’s not easy growin’ up an orphan.”

The girls—especially Applejack, Sunset and Fluttershy—all watched him go with feelings of great sympathy. For as long as they’d known him, Spike had been a fighter. He’d always had to fend for himself. And it was because of this that they saw themselves as the closest thing to family Spike had. In their minds, they were the closest things he had to friends.

They simply could not imagine what it was like being the wealthiest, and handsomest, philanthropist in Equestria’s history. From the outside, Spike’s life was a dream.

He had the freedom to pick and choose what—and whom—he wanted. He enjoyed the freedom that came with bachelorhood. Yet, for all of his public prestige, Spike Zenith was a very private man who rarely discussed personal topics. And because he was such a recluse, he was seen as an incredibly snobbish, self-centered and uncaring elitist prick.

Nevertheless, Spike saw this as a small price to pay to keep the truth secret, to make sure no one would ever associate him with the Equestrian Dragon.

But all of that was about to change...

The Business

In addition to his life of wealth, luxury and privilege, Spike Zenith was obligated to undertake responsibilities far beyond those of any normal human man.

He presided over Zenith Enterprises, a multinational corporation that started out as a simple charitable foundation and grew into one of the largest of both in the world. With several thousand branches across all the known nations, they specialized in everything from eradicating plagues to ending starvation. Hundreds of small businesses and thousands of factories once bankrupt—and hundreds of thousands of jobs about to disappear forever—were given a new lease on life thanks to that handsome businessman and philanthropist. As for Spike himself, he was an oil tycoon, an industrialist, and the owner of Equestria’s largest gold, silver and diamond mining operations. He owned buildings all over the world, model agencies, the Miss Equestria Pageant, jetliners, golf courses, casinos, and private resorts.

But his first action as head of Zenith Enterprises was changing the name of his charity organization to the Zenith Foundation—which was created to help those less fortunate (mostly single fathers who needed financial support).

When Spike was a much younger dragon, he got separated from his parents when he was helping them save the citizens of a small village from an attacking army that burned their homes to the ground. Spike’s mother, Barb, kept on fighting while Spike and his father, Locke, got the children of the village to safety and drew the monsters away so that the humans would live. On that day, Spike vowed revenge against all who chose to wish others harm. He worked to fulfill this vow by travelling the globe, learning various skills and trades from the world’s most renowned fighters, visionaries and heroes.

After his visit to New Canterlot University, Spike drove to an airbase located in the heart of the forest. A private jet displaying the purple and green logo for Zenith Airlines was taxied on the tarmac while a tall, stately Trotishman in a black suit and two Trotish Special Forces signet rings (one on each hand), with slicked back blue hair and a thin moustache, stepped out of a shiny black limousine. He buttoned his suit jacket as he waited patiently by the vehicle parked in front of the aircraft hangar. A tractor pulling luggage carts stopped next to him and the driver glanced at the airplane.

“Zenith, huh?” he asked. “Must be a real bigshot.”

“You would be surprised how big,” the man in the suit replied.

Still wearing his helmet, black leather jacket, jeans and boots, Spike drove his motorcycle down the long runway, towards the hangar, and stopped.

“All this for him?” the tractor driver asked.

The man in the suit nodded.

“Geez,” the driver replied.

With a broad smile, the man at the limo waved and strode over to Spike and Spike smiled back as he got off his motorcycle.

“Glad to see you, Mister Zenith,” he said.

“Glad to see you too, Fancy Pants,” Spike replied.

Zenith Industries’ Chief Executive Officer and Senior Vice-President, Fancy Pants was one of the very few people in this world that Spike thought of as more than just an acquaintance or employee. He was Spike’s ally, loyal counsel, trusted friend and steady right hand. Throughout his life, he had been a servant with varied skills, from valet to personal chef, tailor, repairman, and army field medic. Now, he mostly helped with enforcing Spike’s boorish persona, even going so far as to organize his boss’s social calendar.

But Fancy Pants was much more than Spike’s extra eyes and ears within the company. He was the Equestrian Dragon’s behind-the-scenes jack-of-trades, tending to the numerous high-tech computers, vehicles, and gadgets at Spike’s disposal (which he had a tremendous understanding of--for both operating duties and repair purposes). He even executed fake Equestrian Dragon sightings when Spike was out of the country. But most importantly, not only did he keep tabs on their allies and enemies, Fancy always lent an ear to his old, dear friend.

As the two men approached the hangar, the big doors slid open to reveal to a massive cargo plane parked inside. They lifted their gaze to the back of the aircraft as it opened, descended and unfolded into a ramp. Under their watchful eyes, a vehicle slowly backed out of the plane and onto the ramp.

It was a modified military vehicle—one of Zenith Industries’ latest creations.

Fancy Pants handed Spike a remote control device and the pair stepped back from the vehicle. Spike flipped a switch on the controller and the vehicle turned in reverse. He flipped another switch and the vehicle moved forward and sped off. Then he started making the vehicle do doughnuts on the runway before it accelerated back into the hangar.

“Excuse me, Master Zenith,” Fancy Pants interrupted, “but it’s time for your weekly visit to Zenith Industries.”

Spike groaned. “Do I have to?”

“Sir, a schedule is like a house of cards: take one away, and they all come tumbling down,” Fancy Pants said.

“All right,” Spike said as he put his helmet back on and remounted his motorcycle.

As he cruised through the countryside, Spike traveled along a paved road bordered by trees. He passed Fancy Pants’ limo when they reached the heart of New Canterlot City and they pulled into the parking lot of Zenith Towers--a pair of sprawling, high-tech steel and glass skyscrapers that towered above everything surrounding them, and served as the corporate headquarters of Zenith Industries.

Built in 1909, the Twin Towers of Zenith Industries were built on 51 acres of volcanic soil, rich in deposits of quartz, silver and iron, and stood no less than 100 stories high, making them New Canterlot City’s highest structure. Needless to say, the building had had many upgrades and renovations since its construction, most notably the entrances above and underneath the main structure which Spike had personally installed so the Equestrian Dragon could get in and out without being seen. As the decades rolled by, more floors were added as the company expanded. Its chief exports were wheat, corn, potatoes, oil, cotton, textiles, pottery and many varieties of weapons. Each floor housed the administrative offices of one of Zenith’s sub-divisions, everything from mining to steel, and Fancy Pants, as C.E.O., oversaw ALL of those assets. The board of directors handled most of the business, but Spike was still the owner and majority stockholder, meaning his approval was still needed before any major decisions could be made. If ever in doubt, he always went to Fancy for advice, as he was familiar with the company’s inner workings.

The two men entered the dome-shaped lobby, which bustled with activity. Spike shrugged his black leather jacket off his shoulders and tossed it toward the nearby coat rack, where it landed perfectly on one of the hooks. Then he approached the reception desk, where Fleur de Lis—the woman in white from the previous night—now wearing a very revealing skirt suit, was answering the phone.

“Good morning, Zenith Industries, please hold. Good morning, Zenith Industries, please hold,” she said into her headset over and over. “Zenith Industries. Please hold. Zenith Industries. I’ll connect you. Monsieur Zenith is on vacation. Would you like his voicemail?”

“Spike, are you still growing?” a sweet voice suddenly called out to him. “You look taller than you did last year.”

He turned and found himself nose-to-nose with an attractive young woman with eyes like sapphires and matching dark hair.

“Minuette?” he asked.

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you,” she said. “You’re not busy tonight, are you?”

“What you talkin’ about?” he asked.

“Moon Dancer’s birthday party?” she replied. “You arranged the whole thing, remember? You are going, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because sometimes you say you’re going to go to stuff and then you turn into Major No-Show,” Minuette answered. “I’m just saying, you know how sensitive she is. You missed her last party and she got really upset.”

“I promised her that I would be there, and I will be there,” Spike stated.

“Well, did you get her that thing that you were going to get her?” she inquired.

“I was just about to put the finishing touches on her gift,” Spike told her. “You didn’t get her another book that she already owns, did you?”

“No, I made her a mix CD to listen to after she studies,”

“Great. Hey, why don’t you call the elevator and I’ll take you down to the labs?”

Minuette sighed wistfully as she sauntered across the lobby to the elevator bank.

Spike’s plan would be to show her what he’d been working on then he would devote the rest of his afternoon to a little research work.

“Damn it!” he cursed once she was out of earshot. “I completely forgot.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Fleur asked as she reached under the receptionist desk and produced a small box wrapped with red paper and a bright yellow bow.

She had even written “Happy Birthday” on it in her best cursive handwriting.

“You are not just a saint, you are an angel,” he said. “I should get you something nice.”

“Too late, you already did,” she replied, showing him the silver watch on her left wrist.

“I always do the classy thing, don’t I? Phone calls?”

“Davenport closed the Vanhoover Deal,”

“Good. Call Balboa and Sons and have them begin development as soon as they have access to the site,”

“Miss Inkwell has things in hand with the Rolling situation, but requires an additional hundred thousand to tie up loose ends,”

“Wire her two hundred thousand,” Spike said. “Those loose ends are to stay tied up.”

“Miss Still Sky hasn’t returned our calls,” Fleur went on.

“Is she even in Quilina?” Spike asked.

“The phone we gave her is,” Fleur replied.

Spike sighed.

“Cutting Edge has decided he wants more for the facility in Maredrid,” she went on.

“I thought Stoker had that under control?”

“Word is that Mr. Edge learned that Stoker’s company is a proxy of Zenith Industries,”

Spike wasn’t sure if he should be irritated by or in admiration of Cutting Edge’s corporate intelligence people.

“What’s he hiked the price by?” Spike asked.

“Fifty percent,” Fleur said.

Spike was definitely irritated.

“Message to Stoker: walk away,” he stated. “We’ll build our own factories and drive Cutting Edge out of business.”

“Oui,” Fleur replied as she escorted Spike to the elevator. “Mr. McManely phoned to confirm your meeting tomorrow.”

“Call back, tell him I’m swamped. Dinner’s looking iffy. What’s going around now?”

“Germane measles,”

“Of course, even though it’s been over 50 years since the war ended, nobody shies away from taking shots at Germaney,” Spike growled.

“And Filthy Rich,”

“How many people are going to try to suck my dick before they realize that Zenith Industries and I do not need business partners?!” he groaned. “Tell his secretary something came up at the last minute and I had to be taken out and shot.”

“What if the governor calls again?”

“Take a message. Any other business?” he asked as followed Minuette and Fancy Pants into the elevator.

“Those were the highlights. The daily reports are in your mailbox. But other than that, it was a quiet night,” Fleur concluded.

Spike thanked her as the elevator doors closed and the trio descended into basement levels of Zenith Industries; an apparatus so vast that it staggered the imagination.

Zenith Industries was a vast assortment of machine shops and immaculate experimental laboratories where most of Equestria’s state-of-the-art technology was developed. With a series of gadgets, security guards, and other protective measures that made it a perfect safe haven for potential young inventors and investors.

In one of the multi-level underground labs, some of the company’s stockholders—a group from Canter Zoom Studios—were looking at the scientists’ latest breakthrough: a new substance ten times stronger than the strongest adhesive known to man. Spike, Fancy Pants and Minuette passed a group of men in pinstripe suits, Itailian mobsters, also checking up on their investments, with a few of them cashing in and cashing out.

They then walked past a mustached man hammering glowing iron in the metal shop. At the moment, he was making hand grenade paperweights. Every third one would be live.

“How nice of you to join the party,” he told Spike.

In another room, scientist Joy Rider, a microphysicist who specialized in molecular fusion, busily moved about as other women in crisp white lab coats worked around a series of giant mixers. One of them carefully added a beaker of green liquid to a purple concoction that would genetically adjust women’s bodies to maximum attractiveness, thus transforming them into “super beauties” cute enough to attract men like Spike.

Two flasks bubbled and a centrifuge spun as different colored chemical powders flowed through glass tubes from wall-mounted tanks and into clear jars below. One woman scooped powder from an evaporating dish onto a balance scale while another (wearing protective goggles and a breathing mask) added inky liquid from a test tube into a beaker of clear fluid wafting vapor, and a third woman stirred an orange mixture in a mortar with a pestle.

“Lookin’ good, ladies,” Spike said. “Keep up the good work.”

“Hey, Spike,” Joy Rider smiled in reply.

They walked past a huge arsenal of rockets, rocket launchers, missiles and guns while other liquids were poured into giant vats, hunks of rock on conveyor belts were carved into statues. Men in hardhats piloted pods with rotating bases that dispensed empty metal shells onto a circular counter, which emptied into a central hole. A flatbed truck carrying four missile shells drove up to a row of dragon-shaped dispensers, and a woman worked the control panel for the dozens of mechanical arms that filled each of the shells with explosive payloads.

On another assembly line, four men used the robotic arms of four large machines to fill several rocket launchers. They fitted the rockets into the launchers, which a crane claw added to a much larger launcher. A spring-powered plate on a machine bearing fifty nozzles pumped out batch after batch of lead-filled bullets. One of the bullets almost tipped over but a mechanical claw kept it upright as a man inspected the bullets with the most advanced electron microscope in the world. Then the bullets were loaded onto the back of a truck, which drove away.

An aerial lift carried weapons past a display of spiders in a series of transparent plastic cages. Only they weren’t real spiders; they were perfect lifelike listening devices with tiny microphones and built-in super-powered transmitters.

Finally, they approached a thin, mild-mannered young man with a mop of vivid red hair and a matching goatee, standing near a conveyor, operating a mechanical arm with a clamp. He was wearing a white lab coat, which was dirty and covered in various stains, and a pair of round glasses rested on the tip of his nose. Originally a slacker and a bum with almost no goals or ambitions, Sunburst Flare was the head of the head of Zenith Industries’ Research and Development Department and Covert Operations. With his computer expertise as an information broker—and being one of the foremost experts on nanotechnology in the world—he provided Spike (and the Equestrian Dragon) with a constant stream of data in the field to help him in his battle against evil.

Spike had mainly given Sunburst the job as a favor to Sunset Shimmer because, like his sister before him, he had shown great promise. He excelled in programming and electronics; theoretical sciences and physics were also strong points. He was smart. His mother just wished he’d apply himself.

It was one night, almost a year ago, when Stellar Flare looked down the table, to her lanky, scruffy, shaggy-haired son, and asked him, “How did that job interview go?”

“Oh, I totally tanked it,” he replied.

Sunburst’s mother gave a nod to Sunset Shimmer, who nodded in reply.

“Sunburst, you need to do something,” Sunset told him. “You need to get on with your life, you need to get a job, and you need to move out.”

“I did move out. And I had a job!” Sunburst shouted. “Are you going to tell me that it’s my fault the company downsized?”

“That was over a year ago,” Stellar Flare said calmly.

“Now, that’s just crass,” Sunburst answered.

He would have stayed with his mother, but she became furious at his lack of motivation and kicked him out.

“Sunburst, wait--” Sunset attempted as she followed him out of the house.

“You knew about this, didn’t you?” he asked her.

“And what if I did?” she retorted, as if to add, “What are you going to do about it?”

“Of course you did,” Sunburst stated. “I don’t know. Maybe I shouldn’t have quit. I mean, you’d never just give up like that. Would you?” he asked.

“You’re darn right, I would! You should’ve ditched that dead-end from the get-go! No brother of mine is gonna flip burgers! It’s demeaning!” Sunset replied. “Now look, the rules of this intervention state that I am not allowed to help you, so you can’t tell Mom what I am about to do. It’s not much, but I can get you a meeting for an entry-level position at Zenith Industries.”

Sunburst’s eyes widened and he gave her an open-minded shrug.

He knew that Sunset kept Spike company while he worked... she had also once said she’d enjoy working under Spike, no matter what her position.

Ignoring the obvious double-entendre that brought to mind, Sunburst said, “Okay, I’m not gonna lie, that does sound cool. All right, if it means that much to you, I will be there.”

“No, you won’t just ‘be there,’” Sunset stated. “It means that you shower, you shave and you show up. Sunburst, you have got to start your life.”

“You know what? You’re right. In a couple of years--a couple of months, you are gonna see a whole new me. By the turn of the century!” he promised. “The year 2000 is a little over two years from now. By New Year’s Day 2000, I am going to have a job, a house and a life.”

So Sunburst showered and shaved, and he showed up at Zenith Industries just as Spike was concluding his business with Panasonic, the “King of the Big Screen.”

“Timing’s perfect,” he said. “Three new contracts, it’ll be great.”

Spike had been making his weekly inspection. He’d spent half of it on the phone.

Turns out, Sunset had not only convinced Spike to meet Sunburst, she had explained the situation to him in advance.

“Spike, my brother has been looking for a job,” she had said. “I was hoping you could help him out.”

Sunburst let out a sigh as he entered Spike’s office and Sunset introduced them.

“Sunburst Flare, may I present Mr. Spike Zenith?” she began.

“I’ve heard so much about you,” Spike said. “Sunset tells me you’re quite the genius.”

“A great honor to meet you, sir,” Sunburst replied. “I read your research on nanotechnology, really brilliant.”

“And you understood it?” Spike asked.

“I wrote a paper on it,”

“Impressive. Your mother must be very proud,” Spike replied. “Let me start off by saying that a young man willing to work and maintain a degree of integrity, sobriety and honor has a bright future in Zenith Industries. I need a few like you here. I hope you’re ambitious.”

“Yes, sir,” Sunburst replied. “I’ve even heard that in New Canterlot a job in Zenith Industries is a step towards government positions.”

“A good thing to keep in mind,” Spike told him.

“Look, I appreciate you taking the time to meet with me, but couldn’t accept this,” Sunburst said. “I like to earn what I get. I can find my own work. I’ll be fine.”

“You want to make it on your own steam. I respect that,” Spike said in understanding. “But it’s no problem. I’ll at least make a few calls.”

Before Sunburst could reply, Spike had another idea.

“How would you like to be my apprentice at Zenith Industries?” he asked.

At Sunset’s urging, Sunburst agreed.

“You won’t start for 48 hours,” Spike said. “Until then, have a look around the company, familiarize yourself with it.”

“It was nice to meet you, sir,” Sunburst said again. “He didn’t seem so bad,” he whispered to Sunset on the way out.

“Yeah, well, it helps that you’re a genius,” she whispered back.

Now, as Spike stood beside him, he watched as Sunburst flipped a switch on a remote control and rows of small robots with spidery legs, which stood on a nearby table, came online... and they proceeded to destroy the table. In time, those robots could be programmed to destroy anything from vehicles to the world’s most vital communication and military infrastructures: boats, tanks, airplanes, missile guidance systems, even biological weapons.

“So, Sunburst, you got anything down here that actually works?” Spike asked.

“Follow me,” he said, and he led them past a tour group listening intently to one man’s lecture on the pathetic medieval obsession of trying to turn ordinary metal into precious metal.

“Since the Dark Ages, humanity has tried to alter the molecular structure of metal and transform it into gold...” he was saying.

The first thing Sunburst showed Spike was a tri-weave battle suit (version 8). Flexible titanium-dipped mesh plates over a layer of MR fluid-based liquid body armor designed to move faster, hit harder, and look scarier while doing so, the Zenith-Tech MR-fluid hardened in response to impact. With that kind of shock absorption, the wearer would be able to put more force into counterattacks and use the maneuverability to take out multiple foes in quick succession. Minuette wondered why Spike didn’t put it into production and Sunburst told her that Spike wanted to but couldn’t because the majority of the company’s shareholders didn’t believe that the average soldier’s life was worth half a million dollars (which was the absolute least that a single suit would cost to manufacture).

The second project—and the one that Sunburst was most proud of—was a set of clothing made entirely out of nanobots. Microscopic robots that could disassemble themselves into a stream of nanites, enabling them to fit into and travel through extremely small spaces and reshape themselves almost instantly, they were designed by Sunburst to serve as an alternative to battle armor. He had the mechanical part figured out, but he still needed to work on the biology; more specifically, putting in safety measures that would prevent the nanobots from gaining sentience and going rogue and/or taking over humans’ bodies.

That process would include having to link the nanites directly into one’s nervous system, which would allow them to control the robots via their very thoughts (as well as magic), much like Spike already did with most of his tech. To put it simply, the nanobots would become an outfit that could change into literally any form of attire their wearer could think of... for virtually any occasion. And because the nanobots were capable of self-cleaning, there would be no need for new clothes, laundry soaps, drier sheets, OR washer-driers. But until then, Spike would have to settle for his wardrobe full of extraordinary clothes that had been made by his Elven tailors.

“That’s fantastic!” Minuette said.

Sunburst then led them past another group of scientists and a chain of assembly lines for guns, handheld automatics as well as rifles and other weapons, and showed them a piece of clothing boasting a small arsenal of miniaturized gadgets, gear, weapons and deterrents to help Spike battle his foes and survive a range of hostile environments.

“Now pay close attention,” Sunburst told Spike. “Your new belt: black leather with pure silver buckle, notch, and utility compartments outfitted with all the latest features: antitoxins, handcuffs, first-aid kit, gas pellets, micro-camera, rebreathers, wireless transmitters, lockpicks, stop-glue, helium-neon laser, grappling hook, and cinnamon-flavored breath freshener. The grappling hook has a 75-foot rappelling cord built into the buckle. Fire, and out shoots a piton followed by a high-tensile wire designed to support your weight.”

Spike smiled as he put it on.

Whether he was reaching for a piece of gum or the antidote to a lethal poison, he never went anywhere without his trusty accessory strapped around his waist.

“Now, you see the shoes that I’m wearing?” Sunburst asked. “To the normal eye, a pair of ordinary Oxfords, but in actuality...”

He clicked his heels together and a flat knife blade shot out from the tip of the right shoe.

“That. Is. Sick,” Minuette replied.

“It’s coated in Komodo Dragon venom, one of the deadliest natural toxins known to man. Makes quite a handy weapon,” Sunburst said.

He clicked his heels together two more times and the blade retracted back into the shoe. Sunburst then picked up an aerosol can of what looked like ordinary insect repellant and walked up to a crash-test dummy that was wearing a suit and standing up against a glass wall on the far side of the chamber.

“Now this makes any fabric instantly impervious,” Sunburst said as he sprayed the dummy. “Dirt-proof, stain-proof, waterproof, fireproof, puncture proof and... Micro Chips!”

The group looked toward another young man with thick glasses, purple eyes and a bird’s nest of hair. A tech specialist working on a cold fusion reactor, Micro Chips aided the Zenith Industries team in testing their newest inventions.

Micro nodded as he walked over to a cluttered workbench nearby and picked up a machine gun that was lying on top of it. Spike, Sunburst, Minuette, Fancy Pants and everyone else moved out of the way as Micro Chips took aim and fired at the suited test dummy.

When Micro Chips stopped shooting, Sunburst approached the dummy and unbuttoned the suit to reveal that none of the rounds had gone through the fabric. It wasn’t dented, or torn, it wasn’t even scratched.

“Bulletproof!” Sunburst proclaimed.

“Remarkable,” Minuette breathed.

“Speaking of ‘bulletproof’...” Sunburst said as he moved to the Plexiglas wall behind the dummy. “Four-inches thick... one seemingly-ordinary ring... twist like so...” He pressed the palm of his hand against the glass, shattering it. “And voilà, one ultra-high frequency sonic agitator unit. Now, the cuff links I’m wearing... Each one fires a single pin-sized dart coated with sodium thiophene; works almost instantly, knocks out your victim for 12 hours, but does no permanent damage. Why don’t you take a pair, Spike?”

“Now that you mention it, I could use a new set,” he said.

“Blades in shoes, bulletproof spray, sonic rings, cuff link darts... What else have you got?” Minuette inquired as they moved on to another myriad of high-tech gadgets, including a new type of lightweight explosive hidden within the hem of a lady’s skirt.

“We’ve had a lot of fun with these,” Micro Chips proudly confessed as they approached a rack of writing pens.

“What do they do?” she asked.

“Color-coded for your convenience,” Micro went on, “the sapphire ones are outfitted with electrodes that deliver a shock of 50,000 volts; the silver ones are Class-4 hand grenades.”

“Shut up!” Minuette said.

“Three clicks arms the four-second fuse. Another three disarms it,”

“They always said, ‘The pen is mightier than the sword,’” Spike quoted.

“Thanks to us, they were right,” Micro replied. “But if pens aren’t your style, you can always use one of these cigarette lighters. Filled with a lifetime supply of butane gas compressed inside, the spark wheel acts as a timer. Each notch represents five minutes, so theoretically you can set it for any length of time you want.”

“Of course, the Jockeypanese will copy it and undersell us, but that’s the beauty of free enterprise,” Spike said.

Fancy Pants picked up a golden pen and examined it.

“Reminds me of my old service-issue ballpoint,” he recollected. “I remember when every agent of the Trotish Secret Service would carry a pen that looked just like this. Completely innocent to the untrained eye, but click it twice...”

He did so, which caused the pen to fire a single silenced shot that thankfully didn’t hit anyone. Then Fancy Pants went a little pink in the cheeks as Sunburst took the pen from him and proceeded to show them a number of specialized vehicles parked in the corner, including airplanes, boats, cars and motorcycles, all built from advanced technology engineered at Zenith Industries. And Spike smiled smugly at one in particular: a combination muscle-and-sports car.

“Your new ride, appropriately christened... El Draque,” Sunburst said. “Billions and billions of dollars have been spent, and teams of scientists and engineers have worked day and night, to develop the ultimate in Equestrian engineering and weapons technology. Adaptive camouflage: micro-sized cameras on all sides project the image they see onto a light-emitting polymer skin on the opposite side so that to the untrained eye it’s virtually invisible. Agile with all the other usual refinements: all-points radar, military-grade sonar, GPS tracking and remote control driving systems, as well as the very latest in interception countermeasures; bulletproof titanium armor, smokescreen, oil slick, target-seeking machine guns, rockets, missiles, and torpedoes behind the headlights and tail lights to shoot down mobile objects, four-wheel drive, dual side airbags, a monster sound system and six beverage cup holders.”

Sunburst opened the driver’s door and lifted the armrest between the driver and passenger seats to reveal a panel of buttons inside. He pushed one of the buttons and metal spikes (dubbed “knee-cappers”) shot out of the hubcaps on the tires. Then Micro Chips walked over, this time brandishing an automatic pistol, and fired it at one of the car’s tires, which quickly re-inflated. Needless to say, all of these tricks would give Spike an edge, leaving all the less-than-impressive vehicles in the dust.

“Just try to not hurtle off the road. She’s one of a kind,” Sunburst said. “We should have some more upgrades ready soon.”

“Now, I know what you’re thinking,” Spike said to Minuette. “‘How can you spend Equestria’s tax dollars on toys like these?’ They may be toys to you, but to me they represent hard work, perseverance, Equestrian ingenuity, and good old-fashioned know-how.” Suddenly, his pager beeped, and after glancing at it, he told Fancy Pants, “Cancel the rest of my afternoon.”

“Already done,” Fancy replied.

“My motorcycle,”

“Is idling out front,”

“What’s today’s Garfield?”

“He tells Jon that ‘as the cat of the house, I get to ignore you,’”

Spike laughed. “I love that cat! I’d love to show you around the rest of the place,” he told Minuette, “but I have a schedule to keep. I’ll see you later.”

“You mean there’s more?” Minuette asked.

“It keeps these kids off the streets,” Spike said, “and from smashing in my windows.”

Fancy Pants just shrugged and shook his head as he followed Spike back to the elevator.

The Man

Pendragon Castle stood on the outskirts of New Canterlot City. It was the only Equestrian castle ever imported stone by stone from Scoltland, and Spike was tremendously proud of it. It was his home, and it was more than what most people imagine. A magnificent colossal bastion that looked like it had been carved out of charcoal and black onyx, adorned with marble statues (mostly angels and dragons), this impressive structure was by all odds the finest home in Equestria, and yet some of the people felt it gave the country a certain licentiousness. With so many chimneys, the roof seemed a vast cemetery, each flue signifying the burial place of some old forgotten deity of fire. And every detail from the driveway to the lawn was expensive. But the most impressive thing about it all was that it stood near the base of Mount Drago, a majestic, pyramid-like mountain with a snowcapped peak.

Spike drove his motorcycle around the stone lions that spat water into the fountain out front, parked in front of the Castle’s main entrance, swung off his motorcycle after he shut off the engine and left it in the driveway, knowing that it would be parked in the garage later. He walked up the stone steps to the large, heavy, oak double doors emblazoned with dragons, and they opened into a vast, dark foyer with a large crystal chandelier and marble columns on either side of him.

He went inside, taking his shoes off as soon as the doors shut behind him. It was silent. Spike could hear nothing but the sound of his own footsteps as he walked along the imposing marble-floored hall, which the maids were currently polishing, shedding his clothes piece by piece until he was in the buff.

Luna, clothed in a form-fitting black suit coat and skirt, greeted him as he passed the conservatory filled with almost every plant imaginable, from wild red rose bushes to giant Venus fly traps.

“Welcome home, Sir,” she said, trying hard to not look down at his crotch. “You must be exhausted. Shall I bring you something to drink?”

“Just cocoa,” Spike replied as he stepped further into the house. “With dinner,” he added. “Thank you.”

“Certainly,” said she. “I’ll start making it right away.”

The inside of Pendragon Manor was fabulous, huge and beautifully furnished. A dozen silver-trimmed emerald green tapestries with the same image of a purple dragon embroidered on them hung from the high ceiling on either side of the grand staircase.

In addition to three new guest bedrooms, Spike had five 100% marble bathrooms installed and each had a combination shower bathtub with gold-plated showerheads and faucets. The living room area, with a large table and armchairs in the middle, had a polished hardwood floor, veined mahogany walls, and a grand piano that was always kept tuned.

Most of the objects in and around Spike’s home he had acquired over many years, including a collection of Reneighssance paintings, several dozen Kirin vases, thousands of Aquastrian coins (all priceless), and a tropical fish tank full of Jockeypanese fighting fish; beautiful, graceful, elegant, yet single-minded in purpose, and deadly when they found what they wanted. A stuffed boar’s head was mounted on the wall of the west wing above a line of suits of medieval armor wielding axes, and a cuckoo clock of the castle (built to scale). A figurine of Spike in his dragon form emerged from the tallest tower and the dragon breathed a small green flame with each chime of the bell before retracting.

The kind of things you see in rich people magazines.

Celestia, in a translucent white gown, was reclining on the chaise longue in the lounge and sipping a cup of tea when Spike walked to the rotary dial phone that rested comfortably on a tiny table made of Brayzilian rosewood. He frowned as he noticed the blinking red light on the answering machine, hit the play button, and began to listen to the voicemails.

“You have four new messages,” the machine said. “Message one...”

“Spike? It’s Nosey, Nosey News. Are you there? I know you’re listening to these messages. Look, if it’s about that article, blame Inky Quills. I had nothing to do with that, I swear... Call me, okay? I miss you, Spikey.”

“‘Spikey’?” Celestia echoed.

“Message two...” the machine went on.

“Spike, it’s Sweet Biscuit. You do remember me, right? I had so much fun the other night. You are nothing like what I read in the papers. Anyway, call me when you get this. I got a couple of cute friends who can’t wait to meet you...”

“Message three...”

“Mr. Zenith, Filthy Rich calling. I apologize for going via your direct line, but I grow tired of this routine. Rich Enterprises Incorporated has made a very generous offer for Zenith Industries’ Experimental Tech and Weapons Division, yet your persistent unavailability begins to look less like a busy social schedule and more like deliberately antagonistic behavior. Come now, meet with me. I’m sure we can come to an agreement. A man of your refined taste doesn’t need an Experimental Tech and Weapons Division. He needs another trillion dollars,”

Filthy Rich was a fine businessman, but a bit of a thug. Fortunately, his bark was worse than his bite. Unfortunately, Spike had experienced both.

“Message four...”

“Spike, it’s Bonbon. You’re coming to Moon Dancer’s birthday party next week, aren’t you? No one’s seen you in months, Spike. And you taught me the importance of keeping up appearances.”

That message was several days old, as were all the others; proof that Spike didn’t check his home phone very often.

“End of messages...”

Spike had had a very long day, and it still wasn’t over. After Celestia finished her tea, she changed into a white sports bra with golden trim and matching shorts and joined Spike (who had put on a black T-shirt and shorts) in his private gym to train.

As well as a keen analytical mind, Spike had a body schooled in every known fighting discipline known to mankind. Part of his training was an extensive workout routine he picked up in his time in Feudal Jockeypan from a Ronin—a samurai without a master—named Midnight. It was Monday, which meant it was a day for self-control, balance and coordination. He had started with a 30-minute jog in the morning followed by 30 minutes of traditional kata (with focus on his Jockeypanese forms). Then in the evening, it was 5 sets 20-foot rope climb, 30 minutes gymnastic rings (work on muscle ups in particular), high box jumps—12 reps/8 sets, crunches—50 reps/5 sets, 30 minutes heavy bag, 30 minutes flexibility, and 30 minutes target practice.

Tomorrow would be Tuesday, which meant he would start with a 30-minute jog in the morning, followed by 30 minutes of yoga instead of meditation. And for the evening: a ½ mile swim, heavy dead lift—5 reps/7 sets at 620 lbs., followed by a lighter dead lift—30 reps at 310 lbs., and finally 30 minutes of sparring.

There was a time when the word “dragon” was synonymous with “sexy.” They were creatures of immense magical power, some of the most powerful creatures in all the realms. But in order to unlock his full potential, Spike had to master the fundamentals: Dragon Fire (his ability to breathe it and use it as a weapon), Dragon Fangs (a strong bite for self-defense as well as offensive attacks), Dragon Snout (sense of smell), Dragon Eyes (gaze for intimidation), Dragon Ears (hearing), Dragon Wings (flight), Dragon Claws (combat and climbing), and Dragon Tail (balance and coordination)... not to mention Dragon Tongue and Dragon Penis (to both attract and orally pleasure potential dragoness mates and bear them with child/a suitable heir) one at a time.

Unfortunately, their great power made them emotionally volatile. That’s why Spike had to always keep his emotions in check.

After his workout, Spike wiped his brow with a towel. He pushed open the huge oak door to his private study, entered, then closed and locked the door behind him, leaving the key in the keyhole. There was a huge globe on the floor nearby, a massive, polished desk cluttered with photos and documents, as well as envelope bearing cursive handwriting, and every shelf was lined with books. It was a handsome and masculine room.

Spike walked over to the bookcase built into the wall behind his desk, touched one of the fireproof hardcover books in one of the recessed shelves, the title of which said, The Dragon’s Roar, and tugged on it. A section of the bookcase rotated into the wall, revealing a retinal scanner with a mechanical iris at the back. A red laser projected a grid pattern onto Spike’s eye and scanned his pupil. Then the wall slid open, and Spike ducked through the secret passage as the hidden door closed up behind him.

He hurried down a winding staircase and entered a small room with hanging chains. He pulled on one of the chains, causing the floor beneath his feet to retract, and he fell through into a spiraling tube. As he slid down, a series of hanging torches illuminated the seemingly never-ending ride. Eventually, he landed in a massive subterranean cavern filled with smaller caves, Gothic-style columns, structures and metal catwalks. And a series of torches lit up around the cavernous chamber at the sound of his voice.

It stood in the center of a wide plateau of natural rock, one of many workstations occupying different levels in the vast caverns located beneath Pendragon Castle. Lights placed strategically in the vaulted ceiling shone down on an array of highly sophisticated computers and an interlocking arrangement of laboratories furnished with state-of-the-art equipment, all designed to provide the best in crime-solving techniques. Ramps connected the workstations to a gallery of strange souvenirs and trophies from the past—hundreds of items of immense magical power and various mementos from his enemies, including mortar cannons and cannonballs, and a giant wagon full of Union and Confederate uniforms, as well as relics from the First Great War (the Thousand Year War), the Second Great War (World War I according to mortal/human history books), the Equestrian Revolutionary War, the Equestrian Civil War, and the Third Great War (World War II)—not to mention an assortment of high-tech vehicles that provided unparalleled transportation capabilities in the air, on or beneath water, and on the highway.

One level was filled with nothing but clear, tube-shaped display cases, each one housing a different keepsake from Spike’s many exploits; including a wide variety of axes, blades, arrows, giant harpoons, caltrops, poison darts, invisibility potions, scrolls, magic orbs, telescopes, compasses, tabards, capes, chainmail shirts, gloves, scabbards, 869 metal and wooden shields, 70 pairs of tall black leather boots (designed for all types of weather), 976 daggers, 765 sets of leather armor, over thirty-five-hundred training manuals, fourteen-hundred crystal shards (from deep underground caverns), 203 meteor fragments, 32 tornados in jars, bars of iron and steel, bottles of oil, pieces of cloth, common herbs, several lengths of rope and bits of string.

Another level housed a hall of trophies, which consisted of glass jars filled with various body parts from the numerous monsters and mythical titans Spike had defeated over the years (everything from Dragon Roosters to Harpies). His latest additions were the remains of two water dragons--their tails, two fangs, one’s skull, both their beaks, their spines and their hearts; two “stoneskin” dragons--one’s skull, one’s tail, one’s shell, a fang and both of their spines; and two red dragons--two tails, one beak and one spine... for a grand total of 282 shells, 227 fangs, 325 tails, 239 eyes, 274 beaks, 239 plumes, 280 spines, 81 hearts, and 60 skulls.

More torches lit the massive space as Spike exited the armory, where he kept a collection of various suits of armor--modern as well as ancient--as part of his study of military history; including ones worn by Medieval Europonean knights, desert nomads, and Jockeypanese Samurai warriors throughout the centuries, as well as the remains of a purple speckled egg (his egg that he had hatched from), and made his way to the cavern’s inner sanctum, where a computer screen the size of a billboard hung over the precipice. He slumped into the chair in front of the console, turned on the news feed, and started typing.

“The Senate is expected to vote on this tomorrow,” Inky Quills reported. “It was another brutal week in Equestria. A string of home invasions rippled through New Canterlot’s already crime-infested South Side. And we have breaking news tonight—five terrorists are in custody after an attempted break-in at the Capitol Building. The notorious Equestrian Dragon was on the scene... In thirty years’ time, our nation’s crime rate has risen to a worldwide high. And according to the latest national poll, fear of dragons is at an all-time high. How long must our country live under siege? Is there no hero among us? Who can stop the Equestrian Dragon? Join us tonight for an in-depth report.”

“Next up, trillionaire Spike Zenith contributed an unprecedented sum to New Canterlot City’s hospitals,” Nosey News said. “And in other news, tonight is the grand opening of Club Pegasus, New Canterlot City’s newest nightspot. Count on high society to flock to Cozy Glow’s very exclusive opening night celebration.”

“Which Spike Zenith will be there to endure,” Spike thought to himself.

As Spike searched the computer’s database, Fancy Pants approached the nearby wet bar and poured himself a brandy. As Fancy lifted the glass and uncorked the decanter, his ears perked when he heard Spike say that Cozy Glow had been working her way into New Canterlot City’s big league with the opening of her new nightclub.

As much as Spike hated to admit, it was a massive feat of architectural engineering. Built by the only surviving member of a wealthy high-society family, Cozy Glow had invested her inheritance and seven years of her life to construct it. Spike soon realized that Cozy Glow had made a grave mistake by building it on the sacred burial ground of Vladimir M. Balmer, otherwise known as the legendary vampire Zudak the Barbarian. Of course, Balmer/Zudak had been dead (or rather, undead) for quite some time and his crypt remained undisturbed. But the sounds and vibrations from the energy above would awaken him sooner or later, and Spike would have to prepare for that eventuality.

Spike pulled up everything he could find on Cozy Glow. There wasn’t much to go on except that she was an internet idol of the exhibitionist kind. She posted all kinds of pictures of herself from sort-of-sexy to naughty bikini shots; stuff that was right up Score, Dumb-Bell and Hoof Dunkington’s perverted alley. To most people, she was of the pure-hearted angel variety with a bit of a mischievous side. At present, she was the most famous of all the net idols; the number of visits to her website alone was scary. And because of that, she could easily manipulate anyone. All men were completely under her spell; they were absolutely powerless against her.

As Spike looked at the photos on Cozy Glow’s website, he couldn’t help but think that she looked strikingly similar to the pink Pegasus he had seen with Tirek the night before, but he couldn’t be one hundred percent sure. And what little info Spike had been able to dig up on Club Pegasus itself was that it served hors d’oeuvres as well as cocktails, the music was mostly electronic or “progressive” rock, and all the bouncers were six-foot-four ex-wrestlers.

“Pendragon Castle has the master bedroom, 75 guest bedrooms, 67 bathrooms, a living room, a den, a smoking lounge, two dining halls, four kitchens, three ballrooms, five libraries, a conservatory, a billiard room, a music room, a drawing room, a private study, a 30-lane bowling alley, and a home movie theater,” Fancy Pants said as he picked up a silver jigger. “And yet I always find you down here... in a cold, wet hole in the ground.”

“You know I’m more at home here than the rest of the castle put together,” Spike told him. “I’ll leave as soon as I’m finished. People with regular jobs can do their work anywhere, but for me... this is my office.”

“I agree, it isn’t ‘normal’ work,” Fancy Pants said as he sipped his brandy. “Even worse, the best outcome is that no one ever finds out you’ve done it.”

“Yeah, well, good deeds often go unnoticed,”

“Though not unappreciated,” Fancy said as he watched the news.

“Chief Ganache, can you verify rumors that it was the Equestrian Dragon who apprehended crime boss Maretini and his gang?” one reporter inquired.

New Canterlot City’s Chief of Police, Chocolate Ganache, was the exact opposite of the rest of his department: thin dirty hair with sky-high blood pressure and the blotchy red and gray complexion of an unfit, overweight mess... in short, an incompetent waste of space.

“Do you know of anyone who’s actually seen this Equestrian Dragon?” The fat police chief spoke in a wheezing gasp which would have been a shout if it hadn’t been strangled by bad lungs. “Of course not, because he is what’s called an ‘urban myth.’”

The local police knew little about the Equestrian Dragon, the criminal elements were beginning to realize that he was threat to them, there was still a widespread speculation and skepticism regarding his existence, and conflicting reports if he was only one man or many.

“Why that cheeky...” Fancy Pants began.

“It’s all right, Fancy,” Spike said. “The Equestrian Dragon is exactly where he likes it: hovering just below the radar.”

“You were never one to bask in glory, sir,” Fancy Pants replied.

In addition to Spike and Fancy Pants, the cavern was host to numerous other inhabitants, their presence signaled only by the faint, ceaseless rustling of their leathery wings high above. Fancy Pants turned and crossed the plateau toward the man working intently at the long lab table on the other side of the huge cave. Spike didn’t look up as Fancy joined him; he was focused on his work. Fancy raised a thin, dark eyebrow as he peered over Spike’s shoulder.

“May one inquire as to what that is?” he asked, pointing at the object in Spike’s hand.

Spike brushed a lock of dark hair back from his forehead. He was poking at a fragment of discolored glass with a tiny pair of forceps.

“It’s a piece of the windshield from the late Ragamuffin’s boat,” Spike said as he placed the shard under a specially designed microscope.

Spike reached out and pressed a small button on the console in front of him. To his right, a rectangular section of metal flipped open. He placed the glass fragment into the shallow chamber and pushed the lid shut. With his left hand, he tapped rapidly on the computer’s keyboard. An enlarged image of the glass shard appeared on the monitor above the lab table, the degree of amplification specified in blue numbers in the lower right-hand corner of the computer screen. Other information was given in green on the left. The numbers and letters changed rapidly as Spike’s hand played over the keyboard and the magnification increased until he could see the chemical makeup of the greasy substance covering the glass.

“There’s a residue baked onto it,” he mused thoughtfully. “Some kind of chemical... a dense long-chain macromolecular polymer... adaptogenic...”

“Of course,” Fancy agreed, humoring his boss as he turned with a miniscule shrug.

The cylindrical elevator that connected the cave to the castle above slid open, revealing Celestia, who had showered and was now dressed in a tight, white mini dress that barely covered her thighs (one that was made for clubbing).

“You look lovely,” Spike told her.

“Thank you,” she replied. “Just my old dress made over, but it did turn out rather nicely.”

Dinner at Pendragon Castle was served precisely at 4:00 p.m. and traditionally consisted of a grass-fed local sirloin steak, well done; an oven-baked golden potato, asparagus sautéed in garlic butter, roasted red pepper soup with smoked Gouda.

Luna came in carrying Spike’s and Fancy Pants’ meals on a large silver platter: the sirloins, potatoes, asparagus, and two bowls of the red pepper soup. And for Spike, a cup of hot chocolate and two little white pills on a small dish to the side of the tray.

“The soup is hot, the steaks are well done, the cocoa made with whole milk, and the extra strength painkillers are for your migraine,” she said, motioning to each of them after setting them down on the console next to Spike.

Spike sniffed the cocoa appreciatively, smiling at the milk at the top that had foamed to form the image of a heart, and raised the mug to his lips.

“Thank you,” he said gratefully. “Some days I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“For starters, you would do your own laundry,” Luna replied. “By the way, Spike Zenith is expected to appear at Moon Dancer’s birthday party at the grand opening of Club Pegasus tonight. I’ve laid out your clubbing suit and shined your best shoes. They are waiting for you in your bedroom upstairs, as is your invitation.”

“That’s tonight already?” he asked.

He’d already forgotten, even after Minuette had been at his office to personally remind him a few hours earlier.

“Yes, sir, and since the party was planned by Spike Zenith, and you are the one who paid for said party, it would be impolite for you not to make an appearance,” Luna advised before she headed toward the spiral staircase that led back up to the castle. “We shall be taking the Buick this evening. It will be idling out front with a full tank of gasoline.”

Spike started to protest when Luna added, “For the Equestrian Dragon to remain below the radar, Spike Zenith must occasionally venture above it. The party is in exactly one hour. Let’s try not to be late, as usual.”

Spike tore himself away from his investigation before anything started to get cold.

As he watched Luna leave via the stone steps that led up to the secret passage hidden behind the grandfather clock in the main library, Spike couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. She and Celestia both loved him very much, and he hated himself because he felt that he did little more than take them for granted. Deep down Spike knew that some days he couldn’t even find a pair of matching socks without their help.

“How does she put up with me?” he thought out loud. He turned to Celestia, gazing at her passionately, and asked, “How do you put up with me?”

“Well, you do have $27 nonillion dollars in gold, silver and precious gems, a castle with indoor and outdoor Coltympic-size swimming pools, a car for every day of the year, your own personal fleet of private jets, a submarine with its own ZIP code, and no less than two of everything else,” she replied.

“Are those the only reasons?” he asked her.

She kissed him strongly on the lips. “No. You also have the sexiest ass I have ever seen on any male... dragon, mortal or otherwise.”

Celestia followed her sister, and Spike couldn’t help but smile at her words.

“Fancy Pants, did you hear that?”

“Indeed, sir,” he replied, somewhere between smiling and stone-faced. “Miss Soleil worships your ass. I am most delighted for you.”

After they ate dinner in the cave, Spike and Fancy Pants went up the stone steps—a different set that led to the kitchen.

Later, in his master bedroom upstairs, Spike disrobed once more and took a quick shower. Then he put on the clothes Luna had laid out for him.

Like his private study, Spike’s boudoir was a masculine room. It offered every amenity and elegance, but it retained a manly air. There was a huge trunk at the foot of the bed, and there were matching armories in the two rear corners. Across from the fireplace and facing the windows was a large oak desk, and closer to the sunlight was a small round table covered simply in white linen. An open doorway led to a dressing room. Spike strode to the doorway and stepped through. To the far rear of the small room was a rack hung with coats and other apparel.

He then picked out a full length black Crombie that just barely touched the ground, fit snugly above his waist, had a 40-inch chest because he needed the sleeve length, and draped out into an A-line below. Spike then straightened his immaculately knotted tie as he walked back to the bathroom and looked himself in the mirror... and saw his father staring back at him.

The words “I will not be around forever,” still echoed in his ears.

Locke had explained to his son that dragons were not the only magical creatures living on earth and that some humans had been born immortal. Spike also learned that the Immortals had been waging a secret war since the Thousand Year Conflict, fighting and killing each other until the last remaining few would meet at a yet-to-be-determined point in time to fight for some “grand prize.”

He helped Spike to gain better control of his powers and strengthen his abilities, which would came in very handy when he’d be confronted by his many enemies.

“Were you seen?” he asked Spike after he’d survived his first real battle.

Spike shook his head.

“In this you must never lapse. Even those who would be your allies would not understand. Your domain is the shadow, stray from it reluctantly. For when you do, you must strike hard and fade away... without a trace,”

“I lost a fang,”

“Then it is lost,”

“I can get it back--”

“Spike... let it go,” his father had said. “Your skills are reaching their peak. Only one truly important lesson remains, but must wait. I know how difficult it has been for you. Your mind is broad and eager, but you must never stop trying to better yourself. You are still young, but one day, I will be gone. Use my teachings wisely.”

Spike was a Dragon, like his parents were before him, their parents before them, their parents, and six generations back. And he missed out on many things; while his friends went to parties and the movies, he was battling everything from giants and demons to hairy, twelve-eyed spiders and bullywugs (nasty, brutish humanoid frogs armed with tridents). And the worst of it all was he couldn’t even share that info with anyone.

“This is your burden, and you must bear it alone. It is your destiny. I know you can rise to meet it,” his father had said.

And as time went by, Spike grew and became the wealthiest guy in the world. He was the handsomest, most available bachelor, and he owned the biggest, most successful company, as well as being able to change into his dragon form... and nobody knew that the dragon was him.

Spike shook off the memories and looked at a portion of the bathroom wall next to the mirror, where he had punched a hole in it years ago. It had since been repaired, but the memory kept coming back.

“Great, another thing I have to fix,” he’d grumbled to himself.

That’s when Celestia had walked in on him.

“Spike, I know this has been hard on you,” she had said. “I mean, first, you find out you’re a dragon...”

“Oh, I’ve always known that,” he’d told her. “It was the whole, ‘Oh, and by the way, you’re responsible for the protection of an entire magical underworld’ that’s got me so upset.”

“Well, that’s why it’s so important for you to master your powers,” Celestia had told him. “Believe me, I know Star Swirl can be eccentric at times, but you just have to trust him.”

And trust him Spike did... up until the day he died, when Spike witnessed the wizard’s murder at the hands of an evil necromancer.

Now, as the Equestrian Dragon (one of the world’s most loyal defenders), Spike patrolled the Equestrian mainland and its surrounding territories—from sea to shining sea—using his mental strength and physical superiority as a dragon to bring his enemies to justice.

Once again, Spike was brought out of his memories by Celestia, who placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“What were you thinking about just now?” she asked.

“I was thinking about the last time we were here,” he replied. “Just like this.”

Celestia smiled knowingly and said, “Come on. Let’s go.”

The pair made their way downstairs, where Fleur was making fun of Fancy Pants as he put on his gold cuff links.

“You’re kind of feminine, you know that?” she asked him.

Not at all startled by the cheap insult, Fancy Pants countered with, “Oh, and which of us can only go to cool parties because her man was invited?”

“Touché,” Fleur replied.

The group made their way out the front door and down the steps, ready to go to the party. They each opened a door handle and climbed inside the Buick—Spike took the driver’s seat, Celestia the front passenger side, Fleur de Lis sat behind her, and Luna took the back seat behind the driver (Spike), with Fancy Pants wedged in between Fleur and Luna.

“Luna, would you hold Moon Dancer’s present until we get there?” Spike asked.

“I still fail to see why I have to attend a party of one of your cohorts,” Luna told him.

“Because men find you attractive, sister,” Celestia answered.

“Shut. Up,” Luna replied.

“It’s true, Lulu. Everyone thinks you’re beautiful,” Celestia said.

“Now, listen up,” Spike told them before they took off. “Moon Dancer is my friend, and I flake out on her enough with all the fights I get into, so all four of you had better behave.”

The charismatic quartet nodded in reply as Spike turned the keys in the ignition and he drove them back to the city.

His Life

Late that night, colorful lights shined from Club Pegasus (located between the far east side of the West Side Suburbs and the sleazy Industrial District), where a crowd of very beautiful women gathered on the sidewalk outside the incredibly exclusive nightspot. The line was already snaked around the corner of the block, while Bulk Biceps, a hulking white man with a blond crew cut, stood behind a stanchion with velvet rope, guarding the door.

“No one gets in unless they’re on the list,” he said.

“I came all the way from Tenneighssee--!” one of the women shouted.

“I don’t make the rules, I just enforce ‘em,” he told them as he folded his thick arms across his barrel chest. “You aren’t on the list, back of the line!”

The crowd clamored as a luxury car pulled up to the curb.

“Is that a Buick?” one girl, wearing a sheer black dress, asked.

“My grandpa used to drive a Buick,” one of the others commented.

“That’snot your grandpa,”

Camera shutters clicked as Celestia Soleil exited the vehicle, followed by Luna St. Selena, Fleur de Lis and Fancy Pants, and finally Spike Zenith, who left the keys with the valet.

“Careful,” he said. “I just had it detailed.”

Celestia and Luna’s high heels clicked loudly as they strode past the line, arm in arm with Spike sandwiched between them, with Fleur and Fancy close behind. They strolled up to the front door and he said, “Zenith. Spike Zenith,” before the bouncer even asked, “Name?”

“Thought I recognized you,” Bulk Biceps grinned. “I’m a big fan. Go right in,” he said as he let them past the velvet rope.

“Thank you,” Spike grinned back.

One of the young women scoffed.

“Oh, come on! They literally just got here! We’ve been waiting in line for two hours!”

“Obviously someone rich and famous,”

“Wait. Was that Spike Zenith?”

“Holy crap, we just saw Spike Zenith!”

Spike’s black trench coat billowed as he and his entourage entered the building and rode the elevator up to the top level, and Spike found himself struggling with a voice inside his mind.

“Steeped in denial... the daily grind... a mutual struggle... for shared ground...” it was saying. “They’re for themselves... It doesn’t matter what they say. They promise the world then take it away from you... It’s safe to say, they’ll break you down...”

And what was worse, Spike found himself agreeing with it.

“They’ll try to take from me... I’m just another one for them to break down...”

There was a time when the world was ruled by Dragons. To protect and serve was their mission, and for thousands of years, humanity and magical creatures prospered because of it. But some of the Dragons grew arrogant, and began to fight among themselves for power... now they had been in conflict with humans for control of the earth.

Spike had hoped magical creatures and humans could learn to get along... or at least not kill each other... whatever it would take to settle peace on this city, and the world, once and for all. The mortal world had enough troubles without stirring up things that might spill over into the magical realm.

Spike’s own needs had been held back by centuries of strife, and the hate-filled threats, deadly bombings and other attempts on his life continued to pile up. He couldn’t think of a worse way to spend his night than at the grand opening of the newest nightclub in New Canterlot City.

As the elevator buttons counted to the top, Spike began to dream of a world for him and his kind: a world where the air he breathed was his, there was nothing to overwhelm him and nothing to cloud his mind. He could be anyone, try and do anything he’d ever want, where Time did not exist, and humanity could stick its standards where the Sun didn’t shine!

The elevator doors slid open and Spike, Celestia, Luna, Fleur and Fancy Pants slid into a massive throng of people. Club Pegasus pulsed with neon laser lights, floor-vibrating music, and the sway of men and women clothed in skimpy leather and drenched in sweat. The bar was pure glass, lit from within by electric tubes—very modern, but it cast an eerie glow and threw plenty of shadows for the brief, anonymous couplings that stank up the room. Bathed in the lasers, Spike watched the crowd, scanning dozens of faces and grinding bodies, their movements incongruous, yet somehow hypnotic as the deep bass pounded out its steady rhythm. The spotlights overhead rotated their pervading colors--red, orange, yellow, green, blue and purple--circling through the sea of flesh and sheer fabric as they moved through the crowd.

A girl in a skimpy sailor suit danced on one of the elevated platforms, next to a giant lava lamp that stretched to the ceiling, while a ditzy blonde in a light gray halter top eyed Spike seductively as bubbles rained down around her. Meanwhile, on the dance floor, Flashdancer (starlet of her own movie from 1983) and Azure Velour bopped, shimmied and throbbed to the music while Pacific Glow (a cute girl who bore a striking resemblance to Pinkie Pie, only with twin ponytails) sucked on a pacifier and pumped her fists in time to the beat. These people had no clue about the forces at play all around them—and it was Spike’s job to keep it that way.

The hot press of bodies said business was good.

The manager of the club suddenly appeared at Spike’s side. The man was small compared to Spike’s large frame, and his trim black silks shined with blue light.

“Ringside table, Mr. Zenith?” he asked.

“Anything I can do for you, sir?” one of the cigarette girls inquired. “Check your coat?”

Spike fought the sudden urge to tell them to get out of his face—the rampant sexual energy of the place stirred his blood in a way that was painful, his own needs had gone unsatisfied for far too long—and said, in a calm and controlled tone, “I’m hosting the birthday party up in the VIP section.”

The manager nodded and the quintet followed him upstairs as Spike mouthed the final chorus of the song DJ-Pon3 was playing on her turntables: “I will never die!”

Unlike the rest of Club Pegasus, the VIP section echoed with the sounds of soft music and laughter. Half a dozen waiters moved carefully along their assigned routes from one side of the room to the other, carrying trays laden with pale Champagne and colorful delicacies.

Captain Shining Armor looked out its large window, which offered a full view of the dance floor, and surveyed the crowd below, noting the usual mixture of young politicians, media personalities and wealthy entrepreneurs. He watched for a few moments then turned back toward the group of attractive young women shaking their hips, scanning them with a watchful eye. Almost every one of his sister’s former classmates was there: Minuette Colgate, Lemon Hearts, Twinkleshine, Lyra Heartstrings, even Amethyst Star. He also noted that their host, Spike Zenith, was absent. Shining Armor was a little surprised by that. Spike had worked as hard as anybody here to make sure Moon Dancer had a happy birthday.

For all that the newspapers went on about “billionaire playboy Spike Zenith,” he was very committed and very dependable. If Armor could get a few more people with Zenith’s resources working for New Canterlot, he could turn the city around in no time. He must have had a good reason for being late, Shining Armor thought after he’d helped himself to the victuals: a couple of sliders, some pigs in a blanket, and a handful of crab puffs.

He turned and saw Spike, whose eyes were locked onto the birthday girl, the beautiful redhead wearing the purple skirt and black top, which struggled to contain her massive breasts.

“Spike, you made it!” Moon Dancer exclaimed, smiling and happy as her arms wrapped around him in a tight, warm embrace.

“Sorry we’re late,” he apologized.

“You’re always late,” Twinkleshine said casually.

As Fleur, Fancy Pants, Celestia and Luna mingled, Spike remembered the first time he laid eyes on Moon Dancer: she was sitting barefoot on the floor of the University’s library immersed in a book. Her lashes were as dark as her hair and lay against her moonlight pale skin, her shoes and socks rested on the floor beside her, and a cushion was propped under her derrière.

She didn’t notice him at first as he glanced at the mountain of books around her. They were very advanced textbooks, too expensive and too specialized for any public library. The thickest one had Astrophysics: From Past to Future on the cover.

“Hi. I’m Spike Zenith, Zenith Industries,” he’d said. “You’re Moon Dancer, right?”

She stopped reading, turned and looked straight into his eyes as if he were an old friend.

“Why, yes, as a matter of fact, I am,” she smiled faintly. “Have we met before?”

Curious from a young age, Moon Dancer was the smartest girl on campus. She ranked in the Top 10 in every subject on every standardized test in Equestria. When issued an aptitude test by the school district’s psychiatrist, it was discovered that she had a mind-bashing I.Q. of 216.

She was a legend in her own time.

“So she’s a genius,” Spike wondered. “Well, that explains why she seemed so odd.”

Sure, she may have been a little peculiar, but that’s how most prodigies were.

When someone with Moon Dancer’s level of intellect was forced to slow down to the pace of average people, they were bound to lash out. She didn’t like to go outside much; the furthest she would go was her own yard. She didn’t invite friends over to her house, either. In school, she was easily and constantly bored—almost all the time—to the point of frustration, and she often dreamed of leaving the classroom to pursue her intellectual development on an independent basis. She was so smart that the university’s faculty didn’t even make her attend classes; she was free to cut class anytime and study whatever she wanted. She did as much or as little of the assignments as she felt she needed to.

As well as having a huge vocabulary, she already had a master’s degree in journalism from Coltumbia University, and she did crosswords to keep her mind sharp.

Spike tried his best to make conversation with her.

“Listen, my board of directors is looking for a receptionist to replace someone at my company who is supposed to move up to be my executive administrative assistant,” he said. “I can’t stand her. So do me a favor. You be my assistant, and I’ll tell them I just hired outside the company. I need you! Please say yes.” Sensing her reluctance, he added, “If I can finish that crossword puzzle in less than two minutes, will you help me?”

“All right,” she had said.

“There’s no way he has a better vocabulary than I do,” she’d added in thought.

Spike’s knowledge of words may have had its limits (he hadn’t used the word “precipice” since the year 426, “threshold” since 431, “brink” since 435, and “imperative” since 527), but he did it in 90 seconds—in pen—and didn’t scratch anything out.

“I don’t believe this!” Moon Dancer breathed. “It’s perfect.”

“So, will you please think about it?” he asked.

“We made a deal,” she said. “Of course I’ll think about it.”

“I don’t want to force you,” he told her.

“Don’t worry about it. I always keep my word,” she smiled softly. “And Spike... it was good to see you again.”

Now, as Spike stood in the corner of Club Pegasus’ huge VIP section—in the middle of three beautiful women who seemed to be involved in a contest to see which could stand closest to their wealthy host—he looked totally bored, despite the trio’s beauty.

“Oh, come on, Spike!” Minuette chirped as she suggestively grasped his tie, pressing her hip against his. “All alone in that big castle, with rooms for days and all those toys... Haven’t you ever thought of marriage—not even once?”

“Oh! Never say the ‘M’ word in front of Spike,” Twinkleshine giggled as she reached up on tiptoe to playfully brush an imaginary eyelash from Spike’s face. “It makes him nervous.”

“What about the ‘I’ word?” Lemon Hearts innocently cooed, still trying to figure out a route past her competition and into Spike’s arms.

Spike turned to regard her quizzically, his attention snared.

“The ‘I’ word?” he wondered aloud.

“‘Ingagement,’” Lemon Hearts answered, batting her long lashes.

Spike gave her a crooked half-smile as he recalled the time she somehow got a beaker stuck on her head... and the nearby onlookers laughed.

“Go on, Spike,” the one imprisoned inside his mind was telling him as his gaze swept over the undulating bodies that surrounded him. “Pick one. They’re ripe for the taking tonight. Come on. Any of these beauties would fall in love with you in a single night.”

Spike’s sexual appetite was, in fact, normal for a dragon. He felt the same raging needs humans did, but his past drained any encounters with humans of the pleasure they should have.

He knew better.

The last thing he wanted was to revisit the images and the screams, all the things that would be resurrected if he found himself in the arms of a woman again... even if it was just to seek a quick release, which for dragons was no time at all, not in this pheromone-infused environment.

Bachelorette number three was preparing to pursue her advantage with a frontal attack, when another woman approached and elbowed her sharply in the ribs.

The fourth woman, dressed in tight pants and a revealing tube top, stepped past Lemon Hearts to stare up at Spike. She was also beautiful; her skin was a perfect pink, her eyes dark blue, and her long straight hair as black as a raven’s wing. She carried a glass of red wine in her hand and didn’t look too happy to see Spike surrounded by his female friends.

“I’d watch out for Spikey if I were you, girls,” she began sardonically. Her voice had the first traces of an alcohol-induced slur. “First he wines and dines you. Makes you think you’re the only woman he’s ever been interested in. And just when you’re wondering where to register the wedding gifts...” She paused dramatically, her lips drawing back from perfect white teeth. “He forgets your phone number!”

Spike smiled weakly for a moment. He had been watching the proceedings with a casual detachment. It wasn’t the first time one too many trips to an open bar had caused this kind of confrontation with one of the women he had briefly been with. But this one had been engaged. She’d kept the ring—in fact, she wore it proudly—even after she learned of its true, and rather modest, worth, at which point she broke off the engagement and returned to New Canterlot City for better prospects.

Spike waited with an air of faint amusement for her to run out of steam.

Then a look of fury appeared on her carefully decorated features as she hauled her slim arm back and then threw her wine in his face.

“That’s Spike Zenith’s style!” the black-haired woman concluded angrily.

Then she gave her head a short, sharp nod as she spun on her heel and stalked away from them in the direction of the bar.

There was a mutual gasp as Spike’s trio of admirers drew back in horror then looked in embarrassment at the dripping wet playboy, who stood stone-faced and still.

Spike politely excused himself with a small bow to the three women and headed toward the men’s room.

“Friend in need?” he heard someone say.

Spike recognized the polished tone before he saw the face... or the form-fitting white silk cocktail dress with just enough cleavage showing so that everyone checked out her 34DD breasts and matching leather gloves... then New Canterlot City Councilwoman Vignette Valencia appeared at his side, dangling a linen handkerchief in front of Spike’s face. He took the square of cloth and swabbed at his eyes and cheeks.

“Councilwoman,” he said with a nod. “How goes the vigilante bashing?”

“Better than your love life,” she replied, her eyebrows raised at the scene of Spike’s recent dampening. “Seriously, Spike, it’s like you pick them deliberately because you know there’s absolutely no hope for any kind of a serious relationship.” A man hoved into view bearing a tray of Champagne flutes. The councilwoman plucked one from the tray as it passed by, earning herself a sideward glance of disapproval from the proper server. “At least not since that one girl, what was her name?” Vignette screwed her face up in an expression of exaggerated concentration. Then she smiled lazily. “Ember Drago!”

Spike had been dabbing at his collar with the handkerchief when he winced at the sound of the name. He’d almost managed to forget about Ember for the evening; his memories of her were never too far from his mind. And thanks to Vignette, they were stating to flood back.

Sensing she had touched a nerve, Vignette continued, “Now, there was a sweet little number. How’d you ever let her get away?”

In response, Spike carefully folded the sopping wet handkerchief, his eyes to the floor.

“Thanks for the handkerchief, Vignette,” Spike said, in his low, controlled voice. “You know where you can stick it.”

He reached out and stuffed the stained, damp cloth down the front of her dress, deep between her enhanced breasts, and then walked off, passing Fleur as he entered the men’s room.

Spike locked the door behind him, then stood before the sink and looked at his reflection in the mirror, a dark expression on his face. As he stared at the man that was staring back at him, he recalled his first encounter with the woman whose memory so troubled him now...

Spike the Dragon stood on an ashy hill on the Isle of Dragons. He frowned as he threw punches at an imaginary opponent, replaying his moves of the night before, his face a mask of concentration. He pivoted his body and launched a pair of vicious kicks into the air. He dropped back to a defensive stance then fired off a dozen punches in rapid succession.

Elsewhere on the island, a blue dragoness practiced her hunting skills on an orange dragoness. The blue dragoness, Princess Ember, leaped over a gorge, back flipping in the air. She landed lightly then flipped forward, cutting off the orange dragoness’s path, much to the other dragoness’s annoyance.

Spike twisted his neck to look at Ember, while maintaining his current pose, balancing on one clawed foot with both arms extended rigidly in front of him.

He stood still, his fists clenched.

Then he abruptly turned away from her and began to work through a new series of positions, thrusting his fist out, into the air. His perfect form wavered for a moment, but he recovered his balance, assumed a new position, and jabbed three more times as he shifted his weight from his left foot to his right and back again.

Ember stared coyly at Spike as she seductively walked around him. Smiling, she lunged, tripping Spike up and he fell onto his back. Standing up, he met her gaze as she started to walk away from him. Shaking his head, he followed her.

The most beautiful dragons were the most independent. They tended to find themselves in trouble, but they didn’t need anyone to rescue them. There was no problem they couldn’t overcome on their own.

And Ember was a very spirited female.

As much as Spike hated to admit it, he found Ember charming... in a stubborn and irritating way. Not only was she beautiful, but she was smart, strong and fearless.

In one word: pulchritudinous.

Suddenly, Spike jerked back sharply when he lifted his head and saw the orange dragoness standing beside Ember.

“Hello,” she said.

Spike backed away as the orange dragoness giggled and batted her big, blue eyes at him. He stumbled backward as Smolder eagerly stepped toward him, flicking her tail as she teasingly pretended to pounce. He leaned against Ember and peered out at the other dragoness, who continued to pursue him.

“Hello, Spike,” she said again.

“Well, aren’t you going to answer her?” Ember asked as Spike hid behind her.

He shook his head at the Dragon Lord’s daughter.

“You’re not afraid, are you?” Ember asked.

Scowling, Spike shook his head again.

“Well, go ahead, then,” Ember said as she nudged him toward Smolder. “Say hello.”

“Hello,” Spike said in a small, small voice as he shyly hung his head.

Smolder giggled as she romped around him.

She leaned forward and licked his face, causing him to trip over a stone and fall into a pool of lava. Looking up at her, Spike glared as Smolder licked his cheeks again and he furiously wiped his face. When she licked him again, Spike charged angrily, storming out of the lava.

Smolder flew away as fast as she could, and Spike chased after her, over the rocky hillocks. She raced up the smooth face of a boulder, which looked out over the open ocean. When Spike finally caught up to her, breathless, the island suddenly filled with male dragons flying over the rocks. Two of the males challenged each other, crashing their horns together like young bucks locking their antlers. The dragons leapt gracefully from the jutting tip of a rocky ledge, their long bodies stretched mightily as they took to the air once more in almost perfect sync as Spike followed them along the upper ridge. Then the air grew still with a sudden chill as the dragons came to an equally sudden stop.

A solitary dragon appeared at the mouth of the volcano. His back was broader and his scales were thicker than all of the other dragons, and his legs and chest radiated with power. A massive crown of red stones adorned his noble head, and he held a sapphire scepter topped by a polished red gemstone. As the mighty dragon approached the horde, the male dragons stood almost perfectly still. Only their heads moved to watch him as he passed.

He stopped and looked at Spike, who stood barely as tall as the great dragon’s finger.

The Equestrian Dragon swallowed as the great dragon stared at him before walking on.

Everyone shied away from him because they respected him. For of all the dragons in the world, not one had lived half so long. He stood regal and stoic, as a ruler should be. He was very brave and very wise, and that’s why he was known as the Dragon Lord.

Spike was berated by the other dragons for his smaller size, but he had proven he was a real dragon when he tried to cannonball into a volcano... and bellyflopped face first into the lava pit, his arms and legs sprawled out.

The other dragons all groaned and winced as he slowly sank into the red-hot lava... only to rise up triumphantly, lava dripping off of him as if it was water.

“Whoa, that was amazing!” they all praised him, astounded by his endurance.

“Dude... that was awesome!” a red dragon named Garble admitted. “Nobody could withstand a fall like that. You’re one tough dragon.”

And it was because of this, they had allowed Spike to accompany them to the Mating Ball—a nesting pit, where the males arrived first and waited for the females.

“I’ll handle this,” Garble said as Smolder, his sister, approached with a scarlet dragoness named Mina. “Hey... Hey... That’s all I’ve got.”

“Wow,” Spike said. “I can not believe Mina didn’t just fall all over you.”

“You think you can do better?” Garble asked.

“The next dragoness that comes up that hill, she’s mine,” Spike stated.

Spike was about to eat his words when he saw Ember emerge into a ray of moonlight.

“Whoa,” he thought. “I’ve never seen her look that good.”

“Forget about it, Spike,” Smolder said. “You know the rules. She’s the Dragon Lord’s daughter. You’re not allowed to roar with her.”

There were many customs which the Dragon Code commanded them to obey, but none was as important as the roar. Each month, on the night of the full moon, every dragon and dragoness that had come of age climbed to the top of the volcano and roared their mightiest cry, signifying their official ascension from adolescence into adulthood.

“We’re still friends,” Spike reminded her.

“Exactly, just friends,” said Mina. “You can eat together, and you can fly together, but you can’t roar together. End of story.”

Spike glanced at Ember and she eyed him softly as they walked off together.

Suddenly, without warning, Ember moved up behind Spike. Then she ducked in quickly, set one hand on his shoulder, grabbed Spike’s claw and pulled it. She twisted Spike’s wrist behind his back and pushed him forward. Then shifted her weight, flipped him effortlessly, and he crashed to the ground.

“Got a few moves of my own,” she said, dusting off her palms as she towered over him triumphantly... but not for long.

Spike propped himself up on his elbows, staring up at her without expression. Then the corner of his mouth curled up, and the next moment he started chuckling.

“He laughs!” Ember exclaimed, her mouth dropped open in mock astonishment. “And from a supine position... Now, that takes training and discipline.”

Spike stopped laughing, arched an eyebrow at Ember, then swept his leg under Ember’s feet in a wide arc, tripping her, and Ember fell to the ground. She tumbled backward and before she could move, Spike had her pinned down, nose to nose. She looked up at him in surprise as they broke into matching grins.

“Nice footwork,” she smiled. “Can you dance, too?”

Spike looked deep into Princess Ember’s eyes. She had the eyes of a lioness, all the right moves, and she had exactly the right attitude.

Maybe she could be the one. Maybe she was the one. She was definitely strong enough.

Maybe...

“She might be the one.” The whisper of it seemed to haunt him. “She might be the one.”

But he would have to seduce her, convince her to love him.

Spike’s grin grew thoughtful as he lowered his face to her. His clawed hands slid down to her hips as he leaned in and kissed her shoulder then her neck. She smelt of sweet honeysuckle, he of pie and ale.

“You filthy sod,” she said. “You’re all muck and muscle!”

“Aye, lass,” he replied. “The way you like it.”

And even though it was against the Dragons’ Law for the Dragon Lord’s daughter to roar with him, the couple began to roar together.

“You can do that to me forever if you like, my lord,” she said. “Will you, Spike?”

“Aye, Ember,” he told his love. “I will.”

At that moment, the Dragon Lord appeared and took in the scene of love with surprise.

His shadow crept over the two smitten dragons, and he yanked Spike away from Ember.

“Can I talk to you in private?” Torch asked.

Knowing that it was an order and not a request, Spike nodded and said, “Aye, sir,” and followed the Dragon Lord to the top of the volcano.

“Who is the Dragon Lord?” Torch asked him.

“You are, Your Lordship,” Spike replied.

“I know you’re Ember’s friend, Spike,” Torch said. “But she will be the future leader of our kind. That is our custom, the way of the horde.”

Spike’s smile faded.

The Dragon Lord chuckled and he placed a claw on Spike’s shoulder. “No doubt you’ll be a clever leader yourself one day... and remind us all to keep the peace.”

Spike stood in the men’s room in the VIP section at Club Pegasus, his thoughts lost in memory. He sighed as he thought about Ember. It had been close to ten centuries, and yet it seemed like only yesterday.

He raised his head, called back to the present by a burst of laughter from behind the door.

Reluctant to rejoin the revelers, he turned from the mirror and sighed once more.

“Time to play the elusive trillionaire again,” he thought.

He straightened his clothes, pressed his hair back, and exited the restroom, back to the party in progress. On the way out, he bumped into Lyra Heartstrings and her girlfriend, Bonbon.

But Spike knew the latter as Special Agent Sweetie Drops, the Woman from S.M.I.L.E. (a secret agency whose acronym stood for the Secret Monster Intelligence League of Equestria, who dealt with monsters, monster hunters, and other monster-related activity).

“Ladies, what’s the good word?” he inquired.

“You know us, Spike. Living the life, living the dream,” Bonbon answered. “Lyra and I were just talking about what we did last night.”

“I wish we knew you were coming,” Lyra added. “I’d let you buy us dinner.”

Sweetie Drops leaned in close to Spike and whispered into his ear, “Anything new on our mutual monster friends?”

“Nothing yet,” he whispered in reply. “I’ll let you know.”

That’s when he caught sight of Shining Armor at the end of the bar.

Shining Armor debated ignoring Spike but turned to face the bar instead. Spike made eye contact with the bartender, a pretty, petite blonde who was human—and had the scent of at least two men on her already—and ordered a double Scotch.

Spike leaned into the bar next to Shining Armor, who looked up, his face graced with the hint of a smile. He had learned, through years of public service, to keep as pleasant an expression on his face as possible... even if there was no good reason to smile at all.

The bartender set a glass tumbler filled with amber liquid before Spike and he downed it in one swallow. Alcohol had minimal effect on him, even in his human form, but he hoped the burn would mask the smell of the club, and the scents of the willing females that hung on everything. They were so easily drunk on pheromones, the most potent of which was Spike’s own dragon pheromones. It was clear most had already done more than taste their first partners of the night... and they surely would not be the last.

“Good evening, Captain Armor,” Spike said formally, and he signaled for another drink.

“If you say so, Zenith,” he replied. “I hate these kinds of things. I spend the entire time dodging people who think I can fix the potholes on their block.”

“Well, at least the building is impressive,”

“I guess so. But why build it? It might just be the cop in me, but I think Cozy Glow’s up to something,”

The minute Spike first met Shining Armor he knew he wanted him on his side. He was an honest cop, a proverbial needle in the haystack... and a fellow troublemaker. He was exactly the kind of person Spike needed fighting from inside the lines.

As part of Police Chief Chocolate Ganache’s new “recruitment drive,” Shining Armor (previously of Chicoltgo’s finest) was greeted by Ganache in what was actually a homecoming for Armor, who transferred from New Canterlot City to Chicoltgo as a fresh-faced patrolman over two years before. The details behind Armor’s transfer back from Chicoltgo remained spotty at best, as was the reason for his original departure from New Canterlot in the first place.

But Spike knew the truth.

While just a rookie cop, Shining Armor shot a criminal in a clear cut case of justifiable homicide. What he didn’t know at the time was that that particular criminal also carried a badge at his day job. The shooting was swept under the rug, and Armor was transferred to Chicoltgo by Ganache, his then-captain at the time.

Shining was a good cop who had worked his way through the ranks until being kicked upstairs by the city’s crooked ex-mayor and his administrators. He was a blue-collar cop in a white-collared world. He’d made that perfectly clear when he showed up for his first day as captain in his patrolman’s uniform to remind them that he was not one of them and that he wasn’t going to kowtow to them. He also had a clear dislike for fools, especially rich ones, and a strong dislike for Spike Zenith, who in turn pretended to find Armor a boring underclassman that got lucky and he hid his respect for Shining.

Hard-nosed and by-the-book, Armor had recently been appointed the head of the city’s Vice squad and he took his job very seriously. The Equestrian Dragon was no friend to the police and he had to tread with extreme caution when engaging its officers, particularly since many of them maintained criminal associations. As yet Armor’s record remained clean, but it remained to be seen if he could be trusted. Shining Armor believed that the Equestrian Dragon was trying to help New Canterlot City, even if he was operating outside of the law. However, unknown to Spike, Shining secretly dreaded the day he would have to arrest the Equestrian Dragon.

“Why did you invite me here?” Shining Armor asked.

Spike downed half his Scotch before answering. “I like you, Captain, and I don’t want to see you get hurt, but the way you’re going--”

“You think I should keep my mouth shut?” Shining asked. “That I should accept bribes like my coworkers and look the other way? I believe in--”

“Sure. You believe that there is good and bad, right and wrong. You believe that if we all become good little socialists and work for the greater good, everything will be sunshine and rainbows. Well, I’d like to be living in a fantasy too, but this isn’t flying monkey land; it’s reality. Take a good, long look around here, Captain, because this is reality,”

Spike hoped, somehow, that Shining Armor could make a difference. But he had seen others like Armor before him—bright, idealistic, and full of fervor—try to reform the beast that they called New Canterlot City. Most of the time, the beast got the reformer, not the other way around. There were too many ins and outs, too many temptations... and now, too much damn politics. Spike’s own hands weren’t as clean as he wished they could be. But he was still there, a survivor, and with luck he could still do some good.

“See the big guy wrestling with the brunette?” Spike asked him.

“Oh, my God, that’s Walt Strider! The Mayor of New Canterlot City is here?!”

“Right; and the woman with him is not his wife. She’s Domino Song, arrested seven times for prostitution. To their left, Chief Detective Gray ‘Ratchet’ Graft from your Ad Vice Squad; the creep he’s schmoozing is Cain ‘Coke’ Lamount, he runs half the brothels this side of New Yoke. And then we have Szechuan Sauce, industrialist. Headmistress Amore organized demonstrations that closed down three of his sweatshops last year,”

As Shining Armor looked around the club, he also recognized two other members of the city council, a union official, at least one off-duty cop, and a lawyer.

“Lamount was the one who most likely did the deal, Szechuan would have put up the fee, Ratchet made sure the cops were looking the other way, and the mayor... he just sits back and takes a percentage,” Spike said. “The real war, Captain, is what you see right in front of you.”

“I get the message, Zenith,” Shining said. “You think we can’t beat them... that we can never win. Well, I am not going to turn a blind eye or run away from a fight.”

“Suit yourself,” Spike rumbled a deep growl, shook his head and finished his drink.

“Spike? Spike Zenith,” an attractive young woman in a blue dress and jeweled necklace called out as she approached them.

“Good evening, Headmistress Amore,” he greeted her.

“‘Headmistress Amore’?” she echoed. “How could you, Spike? We’re all friends here, practically family. Call me Cadence.”

“Of course, Cadence,”

As they talked, Spike remembered when he first met her, when she approached him outside Zenith Industries.

“Mr. Zenith? Mr. Zenith. Hi. I’m Cadence Amore. I’m the Dean at New Canterlot University,” she had introduced herself.

“Well, that can’t pay very much,” he’d dismissively replied.

“I’m not interested in money,”

Spike’s face darkened. “Wait a minute. You’re Cadence Amore? You’re the fanatic who lies in front of my wrecking balls. You attacked the Flimflam Brothers outside their offices--”

“It wasn’t my fault they walked under a waving protest sign,” she’d said.

“So you’re not here for a job?”

“No, I’m here representing the New Canterlot Community Center--”

“Look, I’m sorry, it was very nice to meet you, but Chancellor Neighsay has the inside track,” he said, trying to brush her off.

“No, no, Mr. Zenith, you don’t understand. I lived there as well as my parents and I know Flitter Flutter, who’s on the Committee Board, and if you can guarantee the preservation of this community center, I can guarantee you the build,”

“So, why me? Why Zenith?” he inquired.

“Because the Flimflam Brothers have a restraining order and you are the only person who can get in to see the Chancellor without an appointment,”

Suddenly, a man with a notebook ran over saying, “Mr. Zenith? Mr. Zenith. Mr. Zenith, do you have a moment?”

“I’m sorry. I’m very late,”

“You’re supposed to be taping with Regis Fillybin in half an hour, and Playgirl magazine needs a quote on the challenges of urban planning for the article on you,”

“Quote: ‘What I love about architecture is its ability to shape a community. It turns strangers into neighbors; and how the right design for a school building can be functional and beautiful so that children feel engaged instead of imprisoned.’ End quote,”

Spike’s chauffeur, a Kirin woman known simply as Park, held open the door of Spike’s limo as he got in the back seat.

He told Cadence, “Jump in,” and she climbed in beside him.

“So, do we have a deal?” Cadence asked.

“No,” Spike stated in reply. “I want something else from you.”

“Oh, no, I am fully aware of your reputation, and there is no way you’re getting that,”

“I’m not talking about sex. I need a new chief legal counsel,”

“Well, I-I think I’d prefer the sex. I mean... you couldn’t possibly want me. I’ve spent my entire life working against people like you,”

“Well, maybe if you work for me, you’ll win for once in your life,” he stated. “Fine, if you won’t take the job, at least find me someone who will and I promise to save your precious community center. On top of which, they can direct all of my pro bono efforts. That’s billions of dollars at their charitable disposal.” He handed her his embossed business card. “Here is my number at Pendragon Castle.”

“You live in a castle,”

“I own the Castle and I live in it. My life is very much like that board game... and I know you wouldn’t care, but I’ll start them at $250,000 a year,”

As Cadence left, Spike’s chauffeur rolled down her window and said, “There’s also a very nice Hearth’s Warming bonus.”

Cadence was a rare rose among the weeds. She understood the way the world worked... and the corruption that flowed through it. She was also one of the very few who seemed to understand the Equestrian Dragon’s goals and supported his efforts. She had lost her parents--both police officers--to New Canterlot City’s criminals, shot and killed in the line of duty. She grew up in a rough neighborhood, so she knew firsthand what criminal lifestyles did to good people. And while she had mixed emotions about Spike Zenith, she found herself working with him often and he became fond of her due to their similar pasts. The irony was that she originally hated Spike and all he stood for, thinking he was everything wrong with the wealthy and that he was deaf to the problems the poor faced.

As well as being the Headmistress at New Canterlot City University, she helped the city’s Coalition for the Homeless and Legal Defense Fund. She was also a volunteer at her church and had ambitions to have children of her own. However, the zealousness with which she tried to expose corruption could get her into trouble. So Spike watched her carefully for her own safety.

“Have you met our hostess?” he asked her. “This place is really something.”

“Cozy Glow?” she said. “Horrible little woman, nowhere near as wealthy as you, and so odd. I’ll fetch her for you. Oh, I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure,” she added, eyeing Shining.

“How rude of me,” Spike said. “Cadence Amore, this is Police Captain Shining Armor.”

Cadence smiled sweetly at him before looking down demurely and Shining Armor gave her a reassuring smile in return.

“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure,” Shining Armor began.

“The pleasure is mine,” Cadence replied as she linked her arm in his.

“Ooh. Feel that muscle,” she thought.

She was enthralled.

It was then that Spike caught sight of a younger woman with pale, curly hair and decked out in frilly clothes walking toward them. The flush on her face was from either sexual activity or anger. It was hard to tell in the odd light and drowning scents; the washed-out blue light of the club had turned her face ghoulish.

“Spike Zenith, meet--” Cadence began.

“Cozy Glow,” the other woman replied. “The pleasure’s all yours, I’m sure. Can you appreciate my club, Mr. Zenith? It’s one of the city’s tallest buildings. Almost as tall as your nest, the Zenith Industries’ Twin Towers, unless I’m mistaken.”

“It certainly is impressive,” Spike admitted. “Did I hear that you’re planning to lease out everything below this club? It stands to reason, developments like this aren’t cheap.”

“Many thought it was impractical to open a nightclub so close to the suburbs, but it turned out fantastic!” Cozy Glow effused in a way that set Spike’s teeth on edge, but he just nodded in return. “I’d say my business is safe.”

She continued to speak—she was the kind of being who could make an Immortal wish for an early grave—but Spike ignored her, shifting his eyes and ears to scan the club again.

“Did you see her? She is so disgusting!”

“Building or no building, she’s not one of us,”

“That freak? Never,”

“And that hairstyle? Dreadful!”

Clearly, they thought little of Cozy Glow.

When Spike finally decided to start listening to her again, she had changed the subject to Spike’s charitable contributions.

“Now, I’m all in favor of charity, but your donations are costing your corporation over a trillion dollars a year. And one can’t help but wonder... What are you getting out of it?”

“What am I getting out of it?” Spike asked. “Zenith Aviation, Zenith Airlines, Zenith Automotive, Construction, Demolition, Electric, Energy, Foods, Oil, Pharmaceuticals, Shipping, Steel, Biotech, Weapons... not to mention clinics and shelters for the homeless.”

“Which is why your recent acquisition of Canter Zoom Studios makes no sense to me,” Cozy Glow said. “You should be getting rid of dead weight, not acquiring it.”

Spike wasn’t a dragon to waste anything, especially not treasure; and he appreciated a shiny investment as much as the next man, but he wouldn’t fund a new business regardless of its potential return. Besides, he was only there to make an appearance.

But the woman made a point. Despite critical acclaim, the now former actress Golden Harvest’s films Chairwoman of the Board (she’d been using her stage name “Carrot Top” at the time) and Quest for Canterlot had recovered less than a quarter of their inflated budgets in the few months since their release. Such high-profile failures, combined with increased attention from the IRS, meant that Canter Zoom Studios was no longer a viable business.

“I agree,” he replied. “That is why I am getting rid of Canter Zoom Studios.”

“Spike, all those people and their jobs!” Celestia exclaimed.

“Ah, Spike, that is brilliant!” Cozy Glow said. “You buy the studio in bankruptcy, level the sound stages, subdivide... Why didn’t I think of that?”

“No,” Spike answered. “I am keeping the film studio open like I said.”

“Well, of course. Then you go in, bust up the union, slash benefits, and then sell the company?” Cozy assumed.

“No,” Spike said. “I give it away.”

“You what?” she asked flatly.

“I modernize and retool it into Zenith Studios, Zenith Entertainment, Zenith Records, Zenith Television... and then I turn control of the studio over to the workers,” Spike concluded.

“Spike, that’s a wonderful plan!” Luna said.

Cozy Glow’s gaze wandered to Desert Sage, who was mingling with another of Spike’s old friends, a tall, impressive, powerfully-built male with dark hair. Right now, she was taking in the sight of his muscles, practically on display through his tight shirt.

“Oh, Scorpan, you really must let me throw you a party,” she was saying.

“Perhaps Scorpan has other plans,” Spike put in.

“On the contrary, sounds like fun,” the other man replied. “Will you include Mr. Zenith?”

“Oh, no,” Desert Sage sneered in reply. “Spike is having a fling in Tahayiti. He has his own parties.”

“Yes, I’ve read about some of his parties,” Scorpan answered.

“Oh, they’re wonderful,” said Fleur. “I have never known a man like him. He can keep a hundred women in the air at once and make each one happy.”

“Yes, amazing,” Desert Sage droned. “Sort of a contemporary Casanova...”

Spike visibly cringed at that; nobody had called him Casanova since 1343.

“No, there is a difference,” Celestia disagreed. “Spike’s predecessor was forced to climb balconies and fight duels, and, as I understand it, keep his women separate and apart. Now Spike, on the other hand, drives a motorcycle, enters with a key, and resorts to collective bargaining.”

“But they both have something in common,” Desert Sage said.

“And what is that, Miss Sage?” Luna asked.

“Maybe it’s best forgotten,”

“Spike doesn’t mind,” Fleur said. “Everyone takes a shot at him sooner or later.”

“Go ahead,” Spike dared her.

“Well, it seems to me, that any bachelor who has never desired the basic rewards of wife and family, who finds it necessary to occupy the major portion of his life making one conquest after another is trying to prove something that he can never possibly prove,” Desert Sage said.

“And what’s that?” Spike asked.

“That he’s a man,” she stated. “It’s somewhat complicated, but basically sound.”

“Not very original; that theory has become a tired cliché,” Fleur retorted.

“But true,” Desert Sage said about Spike.

“I wouldn’t know; I’ve never been on the couch,” he countered.

“That’s part of your problem,” she said saucily.

“Spike, are you going to take that?” Fleur asked.

“Yes, as a matter of fact. My wound is hurting rather badly. Now excuse me. I feel ill,” he said as he deliberately turned his back on the bitch in tight pants and strode off into the crowd.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Scorpan said.

Spike looked like he was genuinely upset.

“I can’t believe you!” Cadence said at Desert Sage.

“Well, that just goes to prove there’s a first time for everything,” she replied.

There was no need for Spike to stay—he had talked to the owner, paid his respects, and made his appearance. Nothing more was required of him, and the scents were starting to crawl under his skin. He’d had enough of the throbbing music, the pervasive pheromones, and the absolute knowledge that he would not be partaking of female flesh tonight—or any night—while scum like Desert Sage would find some pleasure here. If Spike stayed, he would only snuff the incipient peace he represented. And he could not allow his frustrations to needlessly stoke a war with his human antagonists, not now. Unfortunately, his path to the exit lay through the myriad of bodies clutching drink-filled glasses in sweaty hands.

Spike tried to leave, but Celestia caught up to him. “Why do you have to go?” she asked.

She was clearly wondering Spike’s intent as she gave him a concerned look, even more so since he’d forgotten his human manners.

“I have to go because life is unfair and I have responsibilities,” he stated in reply.

“Do you wish me to accompany you, my liege?” she added in a whisper.

“No. Tell Fleur and Fancy Pants to watch over the party. Alert Luna and Scorpan once they’re finished,” He scanned the room once again, but Cozy Glow was nowhere in sight. “I have a feeling our hostess showing her face here was a ruse; Tirek is still out there... he may be scouting his next target. And I am no one’s lord here, Tia. I am Spike Zenith, rich playboy.”

Celestia gave him a sharp nod then he turned his back on her and strode away, his father’s words rushed through his mind: “This is your burden and you must bear it alone. It is your destiny. I know you can rise to meet it.”

The trillionaire socialite’s tall figure melted into the crowd... and quickly through it.

Moon Dancer’s smile faded as she looked at Spike’s gift when he took off.

Within moments he was nowhere to be found.

Spike disappeared through a pair of service doors marked for employees only, ran down the deserted service corridor, then down the stairwell, quickening his pace with every step.

The sounds of the party drifted down from high above as the playboy exited Club Pegasus in silence... and became something else.

“I’m sorry to leave you, Moon Dancer,” he thought.

As soon as Spike was out the door and around the corner, his senses sharpened, as they always did for battle. It was an ancient reflex, but one that served him well, even now in the modern city of New Canterlot. He snuck into the doorway of the building next door as Lucky Clover and Wild Fire approached from the other end of the sidewalk, and he watched as a single unsavory figure stepped out from the shadows behind them. Then five more emerged from various hiding places and surrounded the young couple, blocking their path.

One of the thugs slugged Lucky Clover to the ground while the others grabbed his girlfriend, passing her between them, one to another, until they threw her against the rough brick wall of the alley. The other five thugs—let’s call them Jaded, Tracks, Shielding, Gruff and Fish—closed in on her while the sixth, E-Jump, was already going through Lucky Clover’s pockets to see what he could find.

“Hey, all right. Equestrian Express card,” he chuckled as he fingered the notes inside the wallet. “Don’t leave home without it.”

Shielding, one of the attackers as well as E-Jump’s butt buddy, couldn’t help looking around, even though there was nothing there but darkness.

“I’m getting out of here,” he said. “I feel like someone’s watching us.”

“You always feel like someone’s watching you,” E-Jump replied.

“It’s different this time,”

“I’ve heard that one before too,” Jaded commented.

“I’m serious. There’s something out there. Something bad,” Shielding went on. “They’re saying there’s this... this thing... walks the streets at night, taking people.”

“What do you mean ‘thing’?” Tracks asked.

“Some kind of creature,” Shielding said. “It’s got horns, flies... Some say it talks, and that it used to be a person.”

“What’s it want?” E-Jump asked.

“Nobody knows,” Shielding replied. “After what happened to Flare Spark--”

“Hey, look, man, Flare Spark was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. No big loss,”

“No, man. That ain’t what I heard at all... I heard that the Dragon got her,”

“The Dragon? Give me a break,”

“Five stories straight down. There wasn’t no blood in her body,”

“No, shit! It was all over the pavement!” E-Jump exclaimed. “It’s just a story!”

“Are you kiddin’?”

“Think about it. Everyone’s always saying something different. He’s ten feet tall, he’s got fangs, powerful coils like a snake, lightning-fast reflexes, stunning good looks, and he can fly... It’s just people making excuses for getting their asses handed to them!”

“Oh, he’s real. And he’s dangerous. And he’s not gonna stop till he’s taken all of us down. It’s only a matter of time before he comes for us, too,”

“Listen to me. That ain’t no such thing as an ‘Equestrian Dragon’!” E-Jump shouted. “Now, you want your cut of this or not?”

While they were arguing, Fish’s eyes flicked to Wild Fire’s breasts as tears streamed down her face and she screamed, not wanting to die.

“Shut up. Shut up!” Gruff yelled.

His rank breath hit her face as he unfolded a knife and pressed the blade to her throat as Tracks glanced toward the corner of the alley.

Something caught his eye.

Movement, at the corner of his field of vision.

Suddenly, a roar came from behind the warehouse window.

It was so loud it made their ears ring.

Then a claw half the size of the young woman’s body smashed through the window, carving through the glass as if it were paper. She ducked, flattening herself against the wall, just in time to see an immense dark shape charge out and into Gruff, the thug that had threatened her. It punched him in the head, knocking him out cold, and the other thugs turned to face whatever it was that had just crashed their mugging.

They whipped their heads around and their gaze focused on something that made the blood drain from their faces. Something darker than the night...

It was their attacker.

For a brief moment, nothing in the alley moved. E-Jump and his boys were awestruck. A man was stepping out of the shadows... no, not a man.

At first, it seemed nothing but shadow and silhouette, something that didn’t look human.

It stepped unerringly toward them, moving at a deliberate, slow pace that was more frightening than speed. It had no need to hurry.

A giant, winged creature, neither man nor beast, towered over them.

It had a scaled body as tall as the first story of the nearby buildings and almost as wide as the sidewalk itself. They saw the great leathery wings folded against the beast’s sides. They saw a long snaky neck that ended in a great wedge of a head, the same deep purple as the rest of the creature, and it had blazing emerald eyes and a mouth full of teeth like railroad spikes.

And their minds grasped the meaning of those attributes:

Dragon.

The mighty Equestrian Dragon stood unmoving, his wings billowing in the night breeze. Then the Dragon’s eyes narrowed, his mouth tightened, his claws on his front legs slowly balled into fists. In the silence of the night, those gestures spoke louder than any words ever could.

Wild Fire thought she should have kept screaming, maybe it would bring help, though she couldn’t image what sort of help would be effective against a dragon. But her throat was tight, numb.

This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening.

“You’re a dead man!” E-Jump shouted as he grabbed his fallen comrade’s knife. “Come on, let’s get him!”

Through the Equestrian Dragon’s eyes, Time seemed to slow and a series of flashes highlighted the various weapons that appeared in each of the bastards’ hands; a pipe wrench, a wooden baseball bat, the knife, a broken glass bottle, and a crowbar.

The guy with the crowbar, Shielding, was the first to try his luck. The Dragon easily took him down by slamming the cretin’s head into the tail light of a car parked at the curb nearby, smashing bits of it into the thug’s face, and he dropped to the pavement. The Dragon ducked under a swing from Fish, the one with the monkey wrench, who smashed in the car’s rear window. The Dragon punched Fish in the back of his head, took the wrench from him, and struck the bottle-wielding Jaded in the leg with it. Then the Dragon took the bat-wielding Tracks’ weapon from him, whacked Tracks in the knee, threw the wrench in the guy’s face, then followed up with a roundhouse kick, knocking the poor sucker over the car and into the street behind him. The Dragon then kicked the knife-holding E-Jump in the chest, bashed Jaded in the face with one of his claws, then turned and punched E-Jump in the teeth, sending blood flying from his mouth and through the air, as he landed roughly on the sidewalk at the end of the alley.

Then something came from inside E-Jump, a hopeless sound... the sound of somebody who was about to die... as he felt the Dragon’s claw crushing down onto his head, drawing two tiny streams of blood from the idiot’s nostrils.

“Don’t kill me! Don’t kill me, please!”

The Dragon growled. “You would think that!”

His voice sounded like he was biting into steel.

The punk managed to look up at the Dragon’s face. Where the monster’s eyes should have been were two mirrors, twin reflections of the thug’s fear. He cried at the sight of the Dragon’s teeth... then he slumped to the ground, out cold.

The Equestrian Dragon stood over the unconscious punks, head tilted down, eyes shut, breathing steadily. He turned to look straight at Wild Fire. She was a fighter—that much was clear—but she still gaped at him, watching with a horror that befit what had just happened before her eyes. She was a treasure—he could see that as plain as day in this dark alley—just as sure as he knew he couldn’t leave her there. He dashed to her boyfriend’s side and knelt.

The Dragon scooped Wild Fire and Lucky Clover’s inert body into his arms and lifted them from the ground. With a snap of his tail, a mobile phone in one of the thugs’ pockets was quickly freed. Still using his tail, the Dragon dialed 911 and tossed the device into the dirt. The police would track the signal and they would come for them, but he and the young couple could no longer be here.

The Dragon flapped his wings as he gripped the young woman and her boyfriend in his claws and lifted them into the air. He flew them to the nearest hospital, setting them down gently on the helicopter pad up on the roof, then his wings unfurled once again to grab the light breeze and loft himself up through the jungle of the buildings of downtown. The cool night air washed away the scent of the club, and the churning agitation inside him stepped down a notch. His claws tucked tight and his wings spread broad, he stretched his neck, easing the last of the tension, as he took off into the sky.

What he really needed was a good hard fly, over the distant mountains and the Celestial Sea back to the Highlands where he belonged.

But his duty was here. He existed for the sole purpose of keeping the mortal and immortal worlds apart, as they should be. For thousands of years, a treaty between magical creatures and dragon kind had protected the soft, delicate humans.

The Equestrian Dragon swooped over the highway and circled out over the countryside, leaving the city behind. He stretched his senses out to the forest and all the living species it held, searching for the demonic centaur.

Five minutes later, two and one quarter miles into Unicorn territory, the Dragon picked up Tirek’s scent, the stench of smoke and sulfur—the whiff of something magical.

He instinctively banked toward the scent, tracking it like the hunter he was. He dipped toward the trees of the forest, but his enhanced senses of smell and hearing found the source before his eyesight.

Tirek was literally beating the life out of his victim.

“I’m going to ask you one last time,” he said. “Where is the Equestrian Dragon?”

“Right behind you,” the Equestrian Dragon growled lowly.

The Equestrian Dragon had tucked his wings tight for maximum speed, landed, and unfurled his wings and stomped hard to get Tirek’s attention. His wings shot out to break his fall, then tucked hard and fast to furl against his body.

The demonic centaur turned away from the white unicorn and was about to engage the Equestrian Dragon when the pink Pegasus stepped between them.

“Allow me,” she told Tirek. “I have unfinished business with this one.”

The pink Pegasus flew at the Equestrian Dragon, who spat a fireball into his right claw and threw it at her like a baseball. She rolled to the side and the fiery fastball flew by her. Then she ran at him and he swept her legs out from under her with his tail. The pink Pegasus leapt at the Equestrian Dragon, who deftly blocked and dodged her attacks. She then ran along the spines across his back until his tail wrapped around her neck like a noose and he hurled her into a tree.

“Enough!” Tirek shouted. “Equestrian Dragon, prepare to become a pair of boots!”

The demonic centaur began to conjure an energy bolt when the Equestrian Dragon spat three fireballs in rapid succession at Tirek, and the demonic centaur quickly blocked them with his gauntlets. The first two bounced off his arms but the third knocked him back. Then the Equestrian Dragon breathed a jet of fire at Tirek, sending him to the forest floor. He repelled more of the Equestrian Dragon’s fire attacks as he got to his hooves, and fired more bolts of magical energy. The Dragon evaded them by flying between the trees and spat another fireball at Tirek, striking the demonic centaur’s shoulder. Tirek tumbled back and threw more orange energy bolts, two of which struck the Equestrian Dragon, knocking him down.

Tirek ducked and dodged more of the Equestrian Dragon’s fiery breaths. Then the demonic centaur lunged and tried to punch the Equestrian Dragon, but the Dragon flew out of the way. Tirek swung again, missed, and wound up punching the ground. Then the Equestrian Dragon struck Tirek across the face and spat three more fireballs, which Tirek deflected before conjuring up more orange orbs between his horns. The Equestrian Dragon flicked three of them away with his tail, caught the fourth and destroyed it with his fire breath.

“Is that all you’ve got?” he asked Tirek.

As Lord Tirek conjured more orange bolts, the Equestrian Dragon blocked them with a breath of emerald fire as the stream of flame and the zigzagging bolts met in the center of the clearing. Tirek’s face twisted in concentration and his bolts overcame the Equestrian Dragon, driving him to the ground yet again.

“No one defeats Lord Tirek, boy!” Tirek shouted as grabbed the Equestrian Dragon by his wings and repeatedly struck him across the face.

With an evil smirk, Tirek conjured an orange orb with both hands, which grew larger and larger as the Equestrian Dragon struggled to stand.

“At least you learned one lesson before your end,” Tirek said. “You’re not strong enough to beat me on your own!”

“You’re right,” the Dragon groaned. “I’m not... but they are.”

As he breathed fire at Tirek, the demonic centaur blocked it and was struck from behind by Celestia, Luna, and a handsome brown gargoyle wielding a magic Staff.

“Scorpan!” Tirek snarled.

“Hello, brother,” the gargoyle replied.

Tirek slapped Scorpan backhanded across the cheek as Scorpan landed a right hook to Tirek’s face, and Tirek reeled back when Celestia and Luna delivered a series of flying kicks and magic-infused punches to the demonic centaur and his Pegasus sidekick. Then, while Celestia and Luna fired a massive blast of their light and dark magic upon them, Scorpan took his medallion, held it out in front of him along with his Staff, and began to chant an incantation.

“Acum în lumea interlopă cu tine! Acum în lumea interlopă cu tine! Acum în lumea interlopă cu tine!” which roughly translated meant: “To the underworld with you!”

In other words, Scorpan was banishing his brother to Tartarus. And thus, Tirek and Cozy Glow were expelled in an explosion of fire and lightning.

When the flash of the combined banishment spell subsided and the smoke finally cleared, the Equestrian Dragon stumbled, fighting to stand.

“Spike, are you all right?” Celestia asked.

“No, I am in a staggering amount of pain,” he grunted as he tried to get to his feet.

He had beaten Lord Tirek but not without great cost.

His left shoulder throbbed with a fierce burning that caused him to fall against a nearby tree with a groan, and he ran his fingers over his wound.

“That banishment spell will not hold them forever,” Spike said. “They’ll be back.”

“And we will be ready for them,” Luna replied.

Spike reeled on her and Celestia, his mouth curled back in a snarl about to snap at them when he stopped short. But they stood their ground and stared right back at him as though he were not intimidating at all.

“Stop trying to help me,” he said.

“We will not,” Luna stated as she planted her hands on her hips and stuck out her chest.

Spike could see the well-defined curves of her breasts under her sweat dampened armor, her hard abs beneath flowing into well-rounded thighs. He clenched his jaw so tight it ached.

“Let’s get you back to the castle so we can patch you up,” Celestia said.

The Dragon growled as he squared his shoulders, determined to fly away again.

“Scorpan... thank you,” he said at last.

The gargoyle prince nodded as he tended to the injured unicorn and Spike knew that the two sisters were still standing behind him, watching him as he took to the sky.

And so we begin... a long, long, upward climb...

Author's Note

To the one that genuinely likes what they have read so far, there is plenty more to come: In the chapters ahead, as well as Lord Tirek, Spike the Equestrian Dragon will battle Discord, the Master of Chaos; Chrysalis, Queen of the Changelings; Sombra, King of the Umbrum; and Grogar, the Father of Monsters... all of them and more.

The Next Steps

New Canterlot City was sick... maybe dying. The shadows of chaos were spreading, sinking their talons into whatever bit of flesh they could find. Demons, cultists, sorcerers, the enemies of the light were multiplying, waiting to strike...

The Equestrian Dragon landed and uncloaked at the same time, conjuring his clothes to cover his naked human form and stomping hard with black boots on the pavement, and his wings retracting into his upper back to complete the transformation.

After his battle with Tirek, Spike ran along the dark streets of New Canterlot City. The stars were shining like diamonds high above, but he didn’t pay much attention to them or where he was going. As he ran through the empty Beaumount Park, there wasn’t a soul to be seen.

His mind was racing; Equestria needed to get back on its feet. He had watched the hatred convulse from afar, hoping humanity and his dragon brethren could settle their differences without intervention... or an excess of bloodshed. Interference created its own problems—keeping the mortal and magical worlds separate was best accomplished when the humans were blissfully unaware, or at least skeptically unbelieving. If the humans couldn’t handle knowing that a few monsters, immortals and magic users existed in their midst...

Spike paused for a moment when a sudden vapor of scent crossed his nostrils, bringing the taste of soap-scrubbed skin and floral shampoo... and the fresh cotton shirt clinging to her ample chest. His mind filled with her scents.

Spike could smell and even taste magic... and his magic tasted all of her.

His senses flared, and if he were merely human, he wouldn’t have seen the flash of cyan eyes or the swish of pale hair or the press of rose-colored lips.

Spike heard her voice—she sounded frightened—as he checked his running speed, confused. He scanned the young woman again—the smell of human was on her for certain... just the delicious human scent that was all her, the scent wrenched his heart.

It was Fluttershy and she was standing, talking with another young woman, under a street lamp in the park, which shined down on them like a spotlight.

She was little more than twenty-years-old and extremely petite. Her skin was pale, she had slim hips, tiny hands, and she had a short bob haircut that framed a face with a high forehead and enormous eyes. Her eyes were a light cyan and looked like twin pools of tragedy, and under them were a small nose and small mouth.

“I’m sorry, Coco. But my heart already belongs to someone else,” Fluttershy said.

“W... What do you mean by that?” Coco asked. “I can’t believe it! Who is it?!”

Her voice matched her physique: small and delicate.

“He’s... Well... When I was a little girl... I got hurt and started crying. This nice boy came over and asked me if I was all right. That man... I want to see him again and tell him how I really felt at that time. But I can’t remember what he looked like!!”

Coco gasped. “No! How can you find him if you don’t remember what he looks like?”

“You may be right. But if I see him again... I believe I would recognize him. I’d just be able to... sense it. Something like this only happens once in a lifetime!”

Fluttershy bit one corner of her lower lip as she glanced around the park... and there he was. She stared in awestruck rapture at the hulking figure. The morning light reflected in his green eyes accentuating the gold flecks making them shimmer.

“Spike, what are you doing out here this late at night?” she asked.

“I was just out for a walk,” he lied. “What were you doing just now?”

“Rehearsing lines from a play,” Fluttershy replied.

“Those were just lines from a play?” he asked.

Spike’s expression was serious, but it wasn’t like the almost businesslike serious he had on back at the university. For the first time in a long time, there was a distinct air of earnestness about him as he gazed at her.

“Coco and I always come here to practice,” she said. “It’s a really beautiful story I want to do if I can revive the University’s Theatre department.”

“That was beautiful,” he breathed.

“Would you like to come in for cocoa?” Coco asked. Her heart pounded as she pointed across Beaumount Park. “I’m just one block over.”

Spike smile as he replied, “Yes, please.”

When Coco Pommel agreed to meet Fluttershy in the park that morning, she had no idea it would end with taking a sexy stranger back to her apartment. She didn’t know what possessed her to make the offer to him. In fact, she didn’t know why she continued to talk to him or allow him to follow her.

She immediately sensed something different about this guy. She could tell there was something otherworldly and ancient about him, something that made him stand out from others. He didn’t have the same air about him that she was used to seeing in everyone else who lived in New Canterlot City. This distinct difference captured and held her attention.

He was gorgeous. When he unfolded his tall body, she swooned. His green hair was disheveled like he’d been through Tartarus. His striking emerald eyes were impossible not to notice. His clothes were dirty and stained with blood. His face was all hard lines and razor-sharp angles and all she wanted was to run her fingertips over them to see if she’d come away with cuts on her skin.

Twenty minutes later, they made it to the front steps of her building and Coco jogged up to open the door.

It was a Bronclyn-style brownstone, a nice place to live.

Coco inhaled as she unlocked the front door to the building and pushed it open.

When she turned back, she could see his concentrated effort to pull himself up the stairs, his white-knuckled hand on the steel handrail as he took one step then another until he made it to the top. His face was bathed in a fine sheen of sweat. She could hear his labored breathing and knew it was taking a lot out of him.

Spike and Fluttershy followed her inside and they slipped into the elevator.

Her apartment was on the second floor, and it was laid out the way Spike had guessed.

The den seemed to be the heart of the home. It was a pretty space, ordinary brick walls with painted cabinets and the kitchen counters were tidy but there was enough disarray to make the place feel lived in. There was no evidence of a second person living in the apartment.

“Please, have a seat,” Coco said.

Spike sat down on the sofa as Coco walked to the kitchen, and instead of rinsing and filling her kettle, she took out a small sauce pan and filled it with whole milk instead of water. As the milk heated over a low flame, she prepared a sterling silver tea service.

She opened one of the cabinets, took out two white teacups made of perfectly delicate material with lips almost as thin as paper, placed them right side up on two saucers, and spooned cocoa into the cups. After whisking the milk, she carefully poured it from the pan into the silver teapot and placed it on the silver serving tray, along with a silver cream pitcher and a matching sugar bowl filled with miniature marshmallows.

Meanwhile, Fluttershy had trotted off to the bathroom. She paused for a brief moment to check her reflection in the mirror after washing her hands. Frowning, she splashed a little cold water on her reddening face—from embarrassment—and she fluffed up her hair with her hands before joining him on the sofa in the living room area.

A minute later, Coco came back with the tea service. She carried it across the room, gently set it down on the coffee table, filled the cocoa-filled cups from the silver teapot, and immediately from the aroma Spike knew it was going to be a great one.

“Here you go,” she said.

Coco carefully placed the two teacups, both still balanced on saucers, in front of Spike and Fluttershy then backed away and sat down in the armchair across from them.

Spike raised the cup and took a sip of the cocoa—he believed that a dish ought to serve its contents—it was perfect: hot, strong, smooth, and a great cup.

He looked across the table at Coco and said, “It’s excellent. Thank you.”

Coco paused; the corners of her mouth softened like the beginning of a smile, and she said, “You’re welcome.”

She had a pretty smile but didn’t use it often. As he looked at her, Spike could see other emotions in her eyes: fear, shyness, loneliness... and horniness.

God, she was horny... and stupid.

She felt stupid for taking him back to her apartment. She knew better than to pick up a strange man in the park. She also knew better than to want to pick up a strange man in the park and want him to fuck her senseless.

Had she lost her mind? She didn’t know him. All she knew was that Fluttershy knew him and something drove her to make sure that he was okay.

“So, you’re Spike Zenith?” she asked.

“Yes,” he replied. “And unless I’m mistaken, this used to be the city’s library, wasn’t it?”

“It still is,” Coco answered. “All the books that don’t get read much are kept in storage here for safe keeping. I guess you could call it the city’s archive building. We even have old videos, records, cassette tapes, even micro film.”

Spike was glad to hear that. “I was under the impression that this building had been converted into another damn coffeehouse.”

“I get all sorts of people in this building,” Coco shared.

She took Spike’s cup from him and refilled it. Then she topped off Fluttershy’s cup before sitting down again. This time, he drank slowly.

That’s when he noticed a flyer on the table, beside the tea service, advertising an outdoor production held at Beaumount Park.

Spike remembered that Charity Kindheart was a well-known costume designer on Bridleway who started the Midsummer Theatre as a way to share her passion for theater with the neighborhood. No matter how busy she was, she always made time for it. But after she moved away to be closer to her grandchildren, New Canterlot lost the special tradition she had started... and its sense of community along with it.

Coco was very upset.

When Spike asked if anyone had stepped in to take over for Charity, Coco said that she had tried, but she wasn’t the type who could handle such things easily... and her lack of volunteers had made it even more difficult.

“‘Please help us revive our long-lost but beloved tradition, the Midsummer Theatre. Guest performances by local theater troupes, including The Method Men, as well as games, food, and much more, this event promises to bring our neighbors together and restore our sense of community, but there’s so much to do...’” Spike read the flyer out loud. “Okay, first of all, you should drop that last bit. You won’t get anywhere unless you get volunteers, but you don’t want to come across as desperate, either. Talk to me as if I had just come to check things out for the first time,” he instructed. “Keep calm, breathe and enunciate carefully.”

“Welcome. I am Coco Pommel. Thank you so much for coming today,” she began.

Spike raised his hand as if to ask a question.

“Why do you want to do drama, anyway?”

“Ever since I was little, I’ve missed all the schools’ plays, because I was always sick,” Fluttershy answered. “I was so set on joining the Drama Club in high school, but I was absent for most of my senior year so I couldn’t even participate in practices. Even now in college, I’m not able to go to class much, but I’ve always wanted to do a play. I think it would be fun for everyone to come together, working together with everyone to create something beautiful... I think that’s a wonderful thing.”

“I think that’s perfect,” Spike told her. “You were able to say exactly what you wanted to because you spoke from your heart. I think you should tell them that at the briefing.”

“No, you should be the leader,” Coco said to him.

“I’m only helping you out. Zenith Industries has no interest in the Midsummer Theatre. Even if it is revived, I won’t join,” he replied. “You’re the one who should be in charge of the activities. In the end, it’s the leader who makes the decisions. There are plays you want to do, aren’t there? You said there was one you wanted to do? What sort of play is it?”

“It’s the story of a girl, haunted by the memory of the man of her dreams, and she is determined to wait until she finds him again,” Fluttershy said. “You may cry, but I hope that everyone will be touched by it...”

When Spike glanced out the window, Coco asked, “Is something wrong?”

“I was just thinking there are some really unique characters in this city,” he said. “Thank you for the cocoa.”

It took some effort for her to form words. “You’re welcome.”

“I’ll see myself out,”

Coco and Fluttershy watched him go, a sudden pain of loss shooting through them. They pressed their lips together, refusing to call out to him. They didn’t want to sound like a couple of desperate women, but they didn’t want to see him leave either.

As he walked out the door and out of her building, Fluttershy received message on her pager. It was from Photo Finish, once one of New Canterlot University’s foreign exchange students, now a young, up-and-coming fashion photographer.

“Fluttershy, I have just bought a new camera. Please, let me film you again.”

Photo Finish loved to take pictures and record videos--the former was more than just a hobby--and Fluttershy was her favorite model.

Fluttershy was flattered, naturally, even though she felt that there had to be somebody, anybody, more qualified, more into fashion and more comfortable in the spotlight than she was and/or ever could be.

“Wouldn’t it be easier for her to film something more interesting?” she asked. “There must be something more exciting for her to take pictures of than me.”

“There isn’t anything more interesting, or cuter, than you Fluttershy!” Coco said.

It was true. Nobody had her beauty, grace, elegance and poise.

Fluttershy blushed.

Spike walked under a cloudy sky, alone, to Dr. Fauna’s office.

He didn’t mind having to go see Dr. Fauna, mostly because she was a babe.

Being a dragon, he couldn’t go and see a regular doctor; among other things, his innate strength and resilience had been growing steadily since birth, but his natural fight-or-flight response created a hyper-stimulated state, which manifested as incendia respiro (fire breathing).

Suddenly, Spike heard something, something distinct, like the sound of a motorcycle, and someone calling his name. He jumped out of the way, flattening himself against a chain link fence, as a young woman on a blue motorbike dubbed “the Aviator” passed him.

It was Scootaloo. She was wearing her old dirt bike riding outfit—white leather with red accents shaped like lightning bolts—and black fingerless gloves.

She braked hard, taking off her helmet, and asked, “Are you all right?”

“Were you trying to kill me?!” he yelled at her. “You should watch where you’re going!”

Scootaloo wiped a tear from her eye with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry. I’m not used to driving this thing,” she said truthfully. “I just got my license last week.”

“You better be grateful that I don’t have you arrested for gross negligence and attempted manslaughter!” he told her. “From now on, be more careful.”

She promised, putting her helmet back on, and sped off.

After she was gone, Sandra the wolf bounded out from the bushes, her excitement clear as she nuzzled against Spike’s leg, her tail wagging, seeking his attention.

The waiting room was deserted when they walked into the veterinary clinic. Except for Candy Mane, the receptionist, there was nobody else there. Normally, there would have been a kid with a snake, a farmer with one of his pigs, someone with an exotic bird and a magician with a tiger by now.

“Spike and Sandra to see Dr. Fauna,” he told Candy.

“Please take a seat, Mr. Zenith,” she replied. “I will call you when she’s ready.”

Spike was there for a routine check-up. He was the one getting the check-up, but he had to bring Sandra along to keep up the charade.

Seven and a half minutes later, Candy led the way to the examination room.

The room was pleasant and bright.

“Dr. Fauna will be with you in a moment,” she said.

Sandra sat in the corner of the room while Spike sat on top of the large, stainless steel examination table; his green eyes flickered around the room, looking for quick escape routes. Then he watched apprehensively as Dr. Fauna entered and locked the door behind her.

She did not want to risk the possibility of anyone walking in on them.

“Well, hello,” she greeted him, almost flirtatiously. “It’s good to see you.”

Dr. Fauna smiled warmly at him as she approached the end of the table. She was tall and supple, with brown eyes and short hair pulled into a ponytail. She was really attractive; her blouse did little to conceal her pert breasts, confined within a black, lacy bra. Her smile usually made other people smile in response, but Spike’s expression didn’t change.

His eyes met hers for an instant... then he turned his head away to stare out the window.

“I gotta say, when I saw your name on my schedule today I was really excited,” she said. “Don’t worry, just relax, get comfortable, and I will take care of you.”

As she leaned in close to him, fighting the sudden urge to kiss him, Spike was treated to a glimpse of her tight, round ass. Her eyes flashed as she caught him peeking and shot him a knowing glance, followed by another small smile.

“Well, I can see that your eyes are as gorgeous as ever,” she told him. “Now let’s check your breathing.”

Spike knew the drill. He growled softly as he turned his face away from her again, cleared his throat, and reached for the buttons on his shirt.

“You know, you don’t have to take your shirt off for this first part,” she said.

“You’re just going to ask me to do it later,” he replied. “I figured I might as well.”

“Open wide,” she said as she looked down his throat. “Thank you. Now...”

Dr. Fauna’s chest heaved; her breathing came in short, rapid bursts, as she placed a thermometer between Spike’s lips—he was thankful that she was taking it orally—then placed her stethoscope over his ribcage and listened to his heart.

She did all the usual things: checking his vitals, took his pulse, normal; his blood pressure was a little high, and heart rate, which was strong and steady.

His core temperature was 2,500 degrees, which he assured her was normal for dragons.

“Ooh, my goodness!” she breathed. “Okay, let me get some gloves on...”

She explored his body, almost caressing his skin, from his strong shoulders all the way down his abdomen. Then came her favorite part of the exam: where he stood up, dropped his pants and showed her what was between his legs.

He failed to see how that was relevant to his examination, but she told him it was.

“Wow,” Dr. Fauna whispered.

Spike was a beautiful physical specimen... and he would be lying if he didn’t think her body was beautiful.

Dr. Fauna’s eyes were transfixed on Spike as she felt around his loins. She massaged his penis, gently cupping his testicles with one hand, then he winced as she gingerly ran a finger between his buttocks with her other hand.

It was then that Spike began to notice that Dr. Fauna’s breathing had become much heavier... and the look on her face said, “Yes, I am enjoying this too.”

But it wasn’t until Spike inhaled deeply that Dr. Fauna realized just what she was doing. She gasped and slowly drew back, apologizing profusely for crossing an ethical line, and told him that he could put his clothes on.

“I wish all of my patients were like you,” she said. “And it does not hurt that you’re easy on the eyes,” she added to herself.

Spike snorted black smoke as he asked, “You want to say that a little louder? I think the receptionist out in your waiting room didn’t quite hear you.”

“You don’t have anything to worry about,” she said, showing him the silver ring that he had given her. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

She wore it on her finger like an engagement ring, but it was the symbol of her loyalty.

“So, we’re done here?” he asked, straightening his pants.

“Well, I think that we have got to get you out more,” she went on. “Have you given any more thought about having dinner with me some night?”

“I don’t feel safe around you,” he replied. “Besides, you might yawn yourself to death.”

After what she had just done, he didn’t think that would be very professional.

It was never a good idea to start romantically seeing someone one met on a regular basis.

“Why would someone like you ever want to go out with someone like me?” he asked.

“You’re smart, sweet, brave, warm, loyal and kind... when you want to be,” she said.

Spike was surprised by that.

“All right, if it means that much to you... I’ll go out with you,” he said.

She gasped. “Really?”

“I hate to see grown women cry,” he said, “especially ones who take pity on suffering, dumb animals like me.”

“There. Now, was that so bad?” she asked.

“Oh, just give me the treat,” he replied as he finished putting his shirt back on.

Dr. Fauna gave him a kiss on the cheek... and her personal number before he left.

“If you ever need anything... even after hours... just give me a call,” she said hopefully. She kissed him again as he left and added, “It’s always a pleasure.”

As Spike walked through the parking lot, up to the entrance to the University’s basketball gym, he could feel the students eyeing him. They were such simple-minded humans it was too easy for Spike to figure out what they were thinking.

“Look, it’s the gorgeous Zenith guy!”

“He always looks so perfect,”

“It’s weird, because I really want him to like me but I also kinda want him to die a little,”

“Um, e-excuse us, we just wanted to say g-good morning. That’s all,” Ocean Spray said.

“Well, hello,” Spike replied as he walked on.

“He’s so hot,” Berryshine sighed. “His smile is perfect, too.”

“He’s got to have, like, a way hot girlfriend,” Golden Harvest added.

“She must be awesome,” Daisy agreed.

“I don’t know,” said Rose. “He doesn’t seem the sort to be madly in love with anybody.”

“Come on, I know there’s more going on there,” Lily replied.

As Spike entered the gymnasium, he nodded to Applejack, Fluttershy, Sunset Shimmer, Pinkie Pie, Rainbow Dash and Rarity, who were dressed in workout clothes, doing aerobics, and they waved back at him, catching the attention of a trio of jerks who glared at him.

The first was Zappityhoof, the slim, smug and vicious de facto leader of the gang, and as such was usually the most sensible in making important decisions, yet was very childish for the most part despite her intelligence. Then there was Goldcap, whose frizzy hair made her stand out in any crowd; slender, mischievous and fierce, but rude and dim-witted. And finally Decepticolt, the toned, short-tempered muscle of the trio—and to a greater extend the harshest and most aggressive, even more so since he had only one ear.

To everyone else, they were just a group of young punks who suddenly arrived in New Canterlot City one day with the belief that they would be automatically accepted into high society, but Spike knew them as three power-hungry, obsessed witches that had lost their magic long, long ago and caused nothing but trouble.

Although the three hung out together, they didn’t like most other people and they enjoyed making them miserable... and they especially liked harassing Spike.

Before Spike had walked in, Decepticolt had given one of the teachers a slip of paper and said, “Doctor’s note.”

“Again?” Coach Miller asked. “Your doctor already got you out of basketball.”

“Twisted ankle,”

“Volleyball,”

“Pulled a hamstring,”

“Soccer,”

“Concussion,”

“Dodge ball,”

“Appendix removed,”

“Baseball,”

“Ruptured spleen,”

“Badminton,”

“Salmonella,”

“And tiddlywinks,”

“Tuberculosis scare,”

Now, the three witches marched up to Spike and Decepticolt got right in his face.

“What the Tartarus do you want?” Spike asked as they approached him.

“I didn’t appreciate having the police knock on my door,” Decepticolt said. “I don’t like people making me look bad, Zenith. Especially jerks like you.”

“You mean making you look bad in front of your whores,” Spike countered. “I still can’t believe you’re scared of them.”

“You think you’re better than me?” Decepticolt asked.

“Everyone’s better than you. Accept it,” Spike replied. “And what is that smell, did you bathe in raw sewage this morning? Do the world a favor: go through the car wash... with your mouth open. Now, it’s time for your line. It should go something like this: ‘Duh!’”

“You and me, outside, now!” Decepticolt shouted.

Suddenly, Fluttershy slapped Decepticolt and he turned and stared wide-eyed at her.

“Keep your hands off him, Decepticolt,” she said firmly. “Just leave him alone.”

“Decepticolt, hit the showers!” Coach Miller stated. “You’re done.”

“She hit me!” Decepticolt shouted.

“And I will deal with it,” Miller said. “You, hit the showers.”

Decepticolt towered over Fluttershy and told her, “One of these days, Fluttershy, with or without Spike, something really bad is going to happen to you.”

That’s when Coach Miller grabbed Decepticolt by his one ear and led him away, saying, “Well, Fluttershy, you can throw down when you want to.”

Straightening her shirt, Fluttershy turned and said, “Sorry, Spike, that wasn’t--”

“Thanks,” he cut her off.

As he turned from her, Fluttershy didn’t miss the way he brushed against her. The way his sleeve whispered across her breasts. Her nipples instantly went hard and erect, hardening into painful peaks beneath her shirt for the whole world to see.

She was grateful that no one saw it... except him.

She wanted Spike to see but he had ignored it as he started to walk off.

A sigh escaped Fluttershy as a curl formed at the corner of Spike’s mouth. A shiver of pleasure traveled down her spine and she subconsciously licked her lips as he walked away. His scent of smoky wood and smoked meat filled her nostrils, making her dizzy. His touch made her want to lose all self-control; it made her feel pure happiness and ecstasy. It ignited a fire inside her that threatened to consume her and everything she held dear.

Spike and Fluttershy were each other’s protectors. She was one of the very few women willing to approach him. He was always too serious, too intense, mostly because everyone else found him so unnerving... but she still couldn’t figure out what was bothering him.

Then her fantasies came to an abrupt end when she heard Applejack taking a bite out of an apple and saying, “Fluttershy, don’t tell me ya’re still obsessin’ over Spike.”

The crunch had shaken her out of her reverie and she cleared her throat, trying her best to act natural. It was hard to do when her traitorous body wanted to melt into a puddle at his feet.

“I am not,” she replied hastily.

“Oh, please! It’s so obvious that you’re crushing on him,” Rarity went on. “He is so far out of your league--”

“He’s like Dragonuv burning the 18th at Death Valley, and you’re like 9-putting the windmill at Poney Island mini-golf,” Pinkie told her.

“If you’re still hot for Spike, just ask him out already and end this suffering,” said Sunset.

“Ask him out?” Fluttershy asked. “Right here, right now in the gym? What if he said no? I don’t know if I could take that kind of rejection.”

Fluttershy felt so ridiculous whenever Spike was around that she could barely even form sentences when she talked to him. It was like jumping into the deep end of really cold pool.

“If you don’t ask him out, I’m gonna literally kick your ass,” Rainbow Dash scowled.

Fluttershy muttered something as she checked her reflection in the small glass window of one of the gym’s doors. She looked like Tartarus. There was no way he’d be attracted to her. She was sweaty from her morning exercises and she smelled like a kid who had been outside all day long. She tugged down her hair, which was tied into a ponytail, but it didn’t seem to help. It would have to do. And just as Dash was about to raise her foot and kick her friend in the butt, Fluttershy took a deep breath... and went for it.

“Here it goes,” she thought.

“What’s up, Spike?” she began. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to you since... since...”

But he still wasn’t paying attention to her. His eyes were fixed on Rarity, who was now standing in front of one of the vending machines.

He walked up to her after she’d made her selection and asked, “You’re not seriously planning to drink that, are you, Rarity?”

Rarity gasped as she uncorked her soda using the machine’s built-in bottle opener.

Hearing her name from his mouth--for the first time in a long time--was almost more than she could bear.

“Mind your own business, Mister Zenith,” she replied haughtily. “Not all of us have the time to properly cook full meals. Besides, sustenance is sustenance, no matter how one takes it.”

“Do you really believe that?” Spike asked. “If you do, then prove it.”

“What?” she asked.

“I thought we should get better acquainted,” he said. “If I didn’t, would I be offering to have dinner with you?”

“Huh?” Rarity asked, rather stupidly.

“I thought we might have dinner tonight,” he elaborated. “Tonight, my place, eight o’clock, I am going to make dinner for you as guests in my home.”

“Wait a minute, ‘guests’, plural as in ‘more than one’?” Pinkie inquired.

“That’s right. You’re all invited. I’ll pick you up after class,” Spike said.

Then he exited the gym.

Rarity’s mouth hung open in pleasure. She had never expected to be invited to the home of one of the most powerful men in Equestria, the one who made other men quake with fear and women tremble with desire. She swallowed slowly, trying to gather her thoughts.

“Wait. Spike lives in that really big mansion, right?” Rainbow Dash asked.

“Yes, Pendragon Castle,” Fluttershy stated in reply.

They were surprised that she actually knew its official name.

“You’ve heard of it?” she asked them.

“You mean he actually lives there?” Sunset asked in disbelief.

“I know it looks creepy from the outside,” Fluttershy admitted. “But, inside, I think it could be kind of... cool.”

“Yeah, if you drink blood,” Rarity commented.

“I do not kill God’s creatures,” Fluttershy told her.

“We eat creatures others kill in order to survive,” Applejack reminded her.

“I do not eat God’s creatures,” Fluttershy stated. “The thought nauseates me.”

“Unusual eating habits draw attention,” said Pinkie Pie, who knew this better than most.

“Then I will pretend to eat whatever is served,” Fluttershy replied.

“Pretending is good,” said Sunset, “but what will you do if served haggis?”

“Haggis? What is haggis?” Rarity asked.

“It’s a sheep’s stomach stuffed with meat and barley,” Sunset answered.

“And what do you do with it?” asked Dash.

“Ya eat it!” Applejack told them.

“How revolting!” Rarity exclaimed.

As the girls returned to the locker room, their minds filled with eager thoughts of Spike’s home; they had always wanted to see the inside of it.

Their excitement was mixed with nervousness.

After his trip to the University’s gym, Spike made a brief stop at the boys’ dormitories just off campus. When he walked in, he watched as the school’s rugby team beat up Rumble for turning the volume on his CD player all the way up day after day.

“I swear, every day it’s the same thing,” Spike said.

“Don’t just stand there!” Rumble exclaimed. “Do something! Help me!”

That’s when Headmistress Cadence came charging down the hallway, waving a broom over her head like it was a sword.

“Will you idiots knock it off?!” she shouted.

Some of the rugby players returned to their rooms, but most of them ran outside, trying to avoid Cadence’s assault.

“Those stupid boys,” she said. “I’m the one all the damn neighbors complain to!”

“It’s not easy being Headmistress and a dorm mother, is it?” Spike asked her.

“Cadence, you should have come sooner to save me!” Rumble whined.

“You are just as much at fault!” she told him. “I hope you’ve learned your lesson.”

“Yes, ma’am...”

As Spike helped the kid back to his room, he could help but feel a little sorry for him.

Rumble was a kind guy who cared for his friends, plus he had a lot of guts. Aside from being hardheaded, he was relatively laid back but scary when he got angry. He got into New Canterlot University on an athletic scholarship (like a lot of the male students); he had been the soccer team’s star midfielder... until he was forced to quit partway through the season.

During his final game he totally snapped and got in a fight with one of the opposing players. To this day no one knew exactly what it was that set him off, but this much is fact: he knocked out all of the opposing team’s front teeth and when his own coach stepped in to stop him, Rumble kicked him in, well... a tender spot. As a result, he was thrown off the team.

Now he was little more than a pathetic deadbeat. The dorm Rumble was staying in was supposed to be reserved for students on athletic scholarships, but even though he got kicked off the team he was not budging an inch. And he was always bragging about how long the school had been trying to evict him.

In his own words, Rumble had no choice: his parents were poor and he was lazy.

At any rate, Spike was the only other person who talked to him.

“Damn those rugby team jerk-offs...” Rumble grumbled. “They can’t expect me to get a job, pay rent and go to school all at the same time!”

“You know no one can hear you when you whisper,” Spike told him. “Damn those rugby team jerk-offs!”

“Who said that!?!” someone shouted from somewhere in the building.

“Are you trying to get me killed?!” Rumble shouted.

“You are such a wimp, you know that?” Spike asked.

“If it was just one of those guys, I wouldn’t give in,” Rumble replied. “But just wait, I’ll get all of them just before graduation day. Then, Spike Zenith, I’ll let you watch my back.”

“Lucky me...” Spike droned sarcastically.

“You’re not gonna do it!”

“To be honest, I’m more on their side than yours,”

“Since when?”

“Since that day when you--”

“Keep it DOWN, will ya!?”

On his way out, Spike came across two more of the University’s students.

“You saw it, right?” Featherweight asked.

“Yeah, so I guess it’s really true,” Tender Taps replied.

“What’s going on? What are you two talking about?” he asked as he approached them.

“Spike, it was here just now. The ghost of that girl everyone’s been talking about,” Featherweight replied.

“She comes up to you, and then gives you something with a curse on it,” Tender Taps went on. “She looks like an average girl, but there’s something about her where you can tell she’s not quite right.”

The New Canterlot City Bank was constructed in 1908 and was the first of two established in the city’s Financial District. They managed many accounts of some of Equestria’s richest citizens, including Spike Zenith. A lot of the original architecture had been preserved, which meant the high ceilings and arches provided good vantage points and perches in case the Equestrian Dragon ever needed to stealthily infiltrate the building.

Of course, Spike did business with multiple banks around the world, so that if anything were to be stolen, it would be a small loss. He had given up keeping count of the number of times someone had tried to rob this particular bank... and failed. Spike had also created accounts for each of the girls on his scholarship program in case of emergency; Fancy Pants had the accounts’ information.

After Spike went inside, two heavyset businessmen in top hats, Claude and Stinky Bottom, co-owners of the Puppet and Hat Emporium in Manehattan, entered the bank with the intention of opening an account.

Honey Harvest, the president of the bank, introduced herself and asked if there was anything she could do to help them.

“Well, we had planned on opening a branch office in this city, but I don’t think you have the proper facilities,” Claude began.

“Our bank may be small, but our assets are over twelve billion bucks,” she told them.

“What about cash on hand? Say I wanted to cash a check for... one million dollars?”

“No problem at all,” she replied.

“What about security against robberies, holdups?” Stinky Bottom inquired.

“All of our tellers are armed, including--and especially--the women; the police department, which we wholeheartedly support, is directly across the street; and in the balcony, there are no less than three Equestrian Army soldiers with M-16 rifles,” Honey Harvest stated, very, very proudly.

“A nice little bank you have here,” Claude commented. “Do you give calendars at Hearth’s Warming time?”

“For the ladies, every year, twelve months, each a different picture of Mr. Spike Zenith, the owner,” Honey Harvest said proudly.

She pointed in the direction of the man in question, who had entered the vault to check on one of his safety deposit boxes. When Spike came back out, he spotted Amber Hays, a female con artist well-known in the city. He thought about tossing her out, but decided against it.

“Not here, not in a public place,” Spike reminded himself. “I’ve got more important things to take care of right now.”

“My partner and I’ll discuss it and let you know,” Claude told Honey Harvest.

And they left the bank, as did Spike.

Somewhere in the vast dockland slums of New Canterlot, Inky Quills tried not to breathe too hard. He had been rushing down the alley near the train yard, anxious to get to the scene of the crime. That was before he heard Sergeant Spearhead talking to the paramedic around the corner. Sometimes, Quills considered, one could be the best damn reporter in the world by just taking an extra minute to get there.

“You know what that guy says he saw?” Night Watch began incredulously.

“Don’t tell me, let me guess,” Spearhead replied. “A gigantic, menacing, supernatural shape... kind of like a dragon, am I right?”

“That’s it,” was the other man’s reply. “What do you think?”

Spearhead dismissed it. “They’re all OD’d on LSD.”

“It’s still weird, Sergeant,” Night Watch, the paramedic, allowed.

Inky Quills stepped forward with a big grin. “I hear we just had another Dragon attack.”

Spearhead winced and Quills’ smile got even wider.

“That’s, what, eight sightings in just under a month now? I hear Captain Shining Armor’s even opened a file. True?”

“Sorry, Quills,” Spearhead muttered in a half-whisper. “These guys are on acid.”

Sometimes Spearhead gave away tidbits without even knowing it. Quills wondered if there was any way he could sneak in a question or two with the crooks involved.

That’s when one of them, E-Jump, got dragged past by a pair of cops. For a minute, Quills thought that Spearhead might be right. This guy sure looked as though he could have been on drugs. What clothes he had left were torn in half a dozen pieces, the skin beneath crisscrossed with the dull brown of dried blood. His hair was matted with blood, too.

“A dragon, I’m telling you, man, a dragon!”

Quills kept grinning, his most important question having just been answered.

Then Spearhead let his irritation show. “Don’t go writing this crap in the newspaper, Quills. It’ll ruin your already useless reputation.”

“Sergeant, every punk in this town is scared stiff. You know what they’re saying? They say he drinks blood. They say he can’t be killed!”

“And I say you’re full of shit, Quills,” Spearhead said as he walked away without looking back. “Feel free to quote me on that.”

But Inky Quills didn’t give up that easily.

“Sergeant, is there a ten-foot dragon in New Canterlot?” he shouted after him. “And if so, is he on the police payroll?”

There was no answer. Quills hadn’t really expected one. He thought about pursuing the police officer for a second, but decided it would be better if he didn’t.

It didn’t pay to be too annoying.

Besides, he had gotten what he really wanted.

A short time later, Spike arrived at the train yard. But he wasn’t there for the crime that had taken place, at least not originally. He was there to inspect his new personal armored train.

An impregnable beast of steel weighing over twelve-hundred tons and 430 meters long, it was more than just a mode of transportation. Pulled by two shiny black locomotives, a coal car right behind, with sixteen state-of-the-art passenger cars and luxury coaches (each weighing 60 tons, equipped with the highest and very best technology of the day, including heating, air conditioning and state-of-the-art bathrooms), protected by four 20mm antiaircraft batteries onboard, and an armored caboose, it was a veritable fortress on rails.

After he’d inspected his new train, he inspected the area the police had roped off... when the officers weren’t looking. This one had the department baffled.

The poor man was shredded, almost in two. Razor-sharp blades, more like claws, surely the work of the enemy... but a high and mighty city council member in this part of town?

“I’ll wager he wasn’t here for the atmosphere,” Spike thought as he started going through the man’s pockets.

He still had his watch, and the cash and credit cards were still in the wallet, so whoever did this wasn’t after his money... and they left a set of fingerprints behind on the wallet.

Spike scanned the leather then tapped the military-grade earpiece on his right ear and said, “Fancy, I’m uploading some fingerprints for analysis.”

“Searching now...” Fancy Pants replied. “They belong to one Almond Sweet. He’s a rather unremarkable criminal. Small jobs, mostly... That’s strange. Almond Sweet is dead. His body was recovered from the Financial District just under an hour ago.”

“Looks like someone’s tying up loose ends... Thanks,” Spike said and ended the call.

As he sniffed the air again, the distinct odors of blood and alcohol invaded his nostrils. And a cold sensation went up the back of his neck as he glanced around and saw a group of people standing and listening to an oration about their hardships.

“What’s going on over there?” Spike asked.

“Cadence Amore rousing the comrades,” Inky Quills replied.

It was amazing. Even though she worked as headmistress and was dorm mother to one of the University’s athletic teams, she still had time to organize and lead her protests.

“Five years ago, Neighsay was telling you that your jobs were secure. Since then, more than thirteen million of you are out of work!” she shouted. “We’ve seen the army, his army, on the streets, using tanks and live ammunition against citizens whose only crime is their poverty! Do you think there’s going to be any real change? The only thing they’re debating is the most efficient way to turn your blood and sweat into a profit.”

There was truth in what she said: Chancellor Neighsay crushed all opposition.

“Get down off your soapbox, Princess!”

Cadence turned in the direction of three men forcing their way through the crowd: Rover, Spot and Fido; a small team of violent career criminals, extortionists and hit men that were part of the Diamond Dog Gang.

“You don’t like the way we do things in Equestria, you are more than welcome to get on a boat and go join your comrades in the Hooviet Union,” Rover said. “I’d even help you pack... if you asked nicely.”

“The last time I checked, the Constitution of this country protected my right to freedom of speech,” Cadence replied.

“Say cheese, fellas,” Inky said as he aimed his camera in their faces and took their picture, momentarily blinding them with the flash.

“Whaddaya know?” said Spot. “Inky Quills, poking his nose where it doesn’t belong as always.”

“Do you boys want to see your mugs all over the Gazette tomorrow?” he asked them. “Or are you going to back off and let these people go about their business?”

Spike should have obeyed his first impulse to turn around and walk away, but something about this guy... the sheer stubborn, righteous anger in him... it reminded Spike a lot of himself.

“How about I smash your damn camera?” Fido asked. “And then your fingers, one at a time? How ya gonna write this up then, smart guy?”

“Back off, Fido,” Rover ordered. “You know he’s off-limits.”

Fido looked at Rover then at Inky and said, “Careful, Quills, you’re pushing your luck.”

And the Diamond Dogs barreled through the crowed, back the way they came.

“When we gonna give that prick what’s comin’ t’him?” Fido demanded.

“Soon enough,” Rover replied. “Soon enough...”

After their classes had ended, Applejack, Fluttershy, Pinkie Pie, Rarity, Rainbow Dash and Sunset Shimmer changed out of their uniforms, showered, put on their street clothes, and were now standing in front of the University, waiting for Spike to pick them up for dinner. Fluttershy in particular couldn’t help but feel a surge of adrenaline coursing through her veins.

She began to think about the tales that had spread about Spike. She liked to imagine him as a dragon, hiding far away in his lair, hoarding his treasures. She laughed at the thought of a dragon asking her and her friends to dinner. Strangely, it made Spike seem less formidable, since he was more like a prisoner in her imagination.

Suddenly, a stretch limousine rounded the corner and stopped at the curb. It was a shiny black, with glowing chrome and tinted windows. Its sleek, dark form took their breath away, every inch of it exuding luxury and expense. It instantly cast an aura of wealth around the man in its back seat. The girls approached the passenger door then stopped before reaching the handle.

How many horror stories started out like this?

A group of not-so-innocent young women, being picked up by a kind, handsome stranger with a soft, deep voice who took them to a place in the middle of nowhere. And then, some creep started to pick them off... one by one.

Then each girl reminded herself that they weren’t in a horror movie.

“If this were a horror movie, there would be more guys. And they would be much cuter than him,” thought Rarity.

That’s when the door opened on its own and Spike offered his hand to them.

When Fluttershy instinctively wrapped her hand around Spike’s arm, something sizzled between them. At first, she thought it was her overactive imagination. But she realized it was his skin burning through the sleeve of his shirt that was so hot to the touch. It was a startling turn on and she could not deny the throbbing, sex-deprived lust pounding through her. She didn’t mistake the sharp intake of his breath when she touched him. Nor did she mistake the sudden urge to wrap her legs around his waist, to feel what was beneath his pants.

And when she touched him again, she felt that same sizzle. He seemed to have felt it, too.

It was enough to make her panties melt right off.

Expensive leather welcomed the girls as they slid into the back seat, the feel of luxury all around. Applejack smiled at the scent of the interior, which had always been a turn on for her. It brought to her mind an image of Spike, a muscular, half-naked cowboy, taming a wild stallion. For some reason, her mind automatically transitioned to being bent over her own saddle and being taken just as hard and wild by that cowboy.

She shook her head. The buttery soft leather was a far cry from the hard leather of her fantasy. Then she looked at the man on the seat beside her.

Spike had always had that old-fashioned, classically handsome movie star look. He’d always looked handsome on T.V., but he was even better looking in real life.

“Buckle up,” he told them.

“You’re kidding, right?” Rainbow Dash asked.

“One thing you will learn about me is that I do not kid, or jest, or joke, or jape, or quip,” Spike said. “This vehicle will not move until we have a completely secure cabin. Buckle up.”

Fluttershy giggled nervously, chiding herself for the schoolgirl sound. Nevertheless, she obediently reached for her seatbelt and strapped it across her body... as did Applejack, Sunset Shimmer, Pinkie Pie and Rarity.

“Looks like we’re waiting on you, Miss Dash,” Spike said.

Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes.

“I saw that,” Spike stated.

Rolling her eyes again, she finally complied and buckled her seatbelt.

“I saw that too,” he said. “I see everything.”

“You ladies are very fortunate Mr. Zenith could fit you into his schedule,” Park said from the driver’s seat. “He has lot of responsibilities, especially in his current business ventures.”

“Keep your one good eye on the road,” Spike told her. “Remember, one scratch and it’s coming out of your salary.”

She nodded in understanding then the car took off, and as it did the girls hoped Spike’s home was far, far away.

The drive was filled with anticipation as the black limousine travelled down winding roads lined with stately trees, nestled among the green, rolling hills. As they seemed to ascend higher and higher, the scenery and landscape transformed into a mesmerizing vista of lush plowed fields with haystacks and prosperous farms, which dotted the landscape. The only significant drawback was that they seemed to be in the middle of nowhere; they hadn’t seen another car for miles. It was completely absent of 18-wheelers and vacation traffic.

The limousine slowed as it turned off the desolate highway, neared a set of tall iron gates, which swung open on their own, and drove past a sign bearing the following words: NO SOLICITORS, NO PANHANDLERS, NO ZEALOTS, NO SMOKING, NO TRESPASSING, NO LOITERING, and NO HUNTING.

“Spike must really hate salesmen,” Pinkie thought.

“Your house is quite far,” Fluttershy said. “Aren’t we there yet?”

“Technically, we are there,” Spike replied. “We’ve been driving on the grounds for a little while now.”

“Ya mean all this land is yours?” Applejack asked.

“Aye, lass,” he replied. “The castle and the hills further than the eye can see have been mine for a long, long time.”

Rarity gasped when she saw a mammoth structure, shining like a jewel, sitting on a mountainous hill up ahead.

“Who has a house that obnoxiously huge?!” Rainbow Dash thought.

“He’s even richer than we imagined!” thought Sunset Shimmer.

“Not bad,” Pinkie said, looking at her wristwatch. “Only thirteen minutes and two seconds from the city limits to Casa Spike.”

Park drove the limo up the driveway and stopped between twin columns topped by stone lions. Spike opened the door for the girls, who stepped out of the vehicle and gaped up in awe.

They had never seen a manor like it, for a strange spell seemed to hover over the gloomy estate and they couldn’t help but wonder what lurked within those cold, foreboding walls.

“Well, this is it,” Spike told them.

“You live here?” Rarity asked. “You live here?”

“I am the owner of Zenith Industries,” he said. “I’m therefore expected to live up to certain standards. An apartment doesn’t exactly cut it.”

As the girls walked up to the imposing, stalwart fortress, Rarity thought Spike had way more than he deserved. Not only was the castle miles away from the city, it was beautiful. The battlements rose high, nearly to the clouds it seemed. The large-winged gargoyles looming overhead--that once proudly adorned its rooftops--were darkened with age.

They didn’t have long to admire the view as Spike led them up the front steps of the medieval castle to the large double doors much higher than they were.

“Say, that’s quite a set of knockers,” Pinkie commented on the dragons upon the doors.

Spike took a solid gold key out of his pocket and was about to insert it into the lock when the doors swung open, into the front hall, to reveal a beautiful, statuesque woman in a pristine white tank top and matching white short shorts.

“Oh, Spike! I didn’t know you were home yet,” she said.

“Hey, Tia, I guess you’re taking another personal day?” he assumed.

“Who is she?!” Rarity exclaimed in thought. “Is she his girlfriend? She is pretty! Does this mean Spike’s used to being around beautiful women!?”

Celestia smiled when she saw the girls standing behind Spike. She threw her arms around him, pressing her breasts into his chest, and whispered into his ear, “I am so proud of you.”

The girls’ mouths hung open when Celestia invited them in, and their eyes went wide as they took in everything around them. They had thought the outside was impressive, but the inside was even more so.

Everything in the castle was large, but neater and cleaner than can be told. The tremendous hall was silent as a tomb, and everything was richly furnished from the suits of armor, to the silver weapons on the walls, and the heavy red curtains. Rarity was quick to notice the large portraits with gold frames that hung on either side of the hall. Most of them were of a man whose features bore an uncanny resemblance to Spike, clothed in everything from a judge’s robe to gold medieval armor, dark waistcoats, and military uniforms and regalia—attire unmistakably from other centuries—as well as various, priceless paintings, including the Rococolt girl smiling on a swing, Broncocelli’s Venus de Marelo covering her modesty with her long wavy hair, and a serious shepherd holding his crook in one hand while holding what looked like a dragon’s egg aloft in the other. Coats of arms with swords and axes were peppered in among them and the ancient tapestries, all hanging from strong walls of gray stone.

Pendragon Castle truly was an immense place, full of pomp and splendor... not to mention priceless wonders from every continent. Of course, being in a strange place like that, the girls didn’t know what to expect.

“What a pad,” said Sunset.

“Spike, your place is awesome,” Rainbow Dash added.

“Shoes off at the door, please,” he told them.

Dash gave him a look that said, “You’re serious?”

“If you’re not going to take your shoes off, put these over them,” he said as he held out protective booties.

“Aw, come on,” she protested.

“My house, my rules,” he stated.

“All right! Sheesh!”

As the girls stepped barefoot into the red-carpeted hallway, they were greeted by three meek, sweet, smooth-faced and utterly loyal maids--Red Ribbons, Twinkleworks and Tote Bag--and two rather young butlers--Lemony Crumble and Cobalt Stone--that exuded elegance.

“Welcome home, Master Zenith!” they said as one. “Hello, ladies. And welcome to Pendragon Castle.”

“Whoa...” Rainbow Dash said.

“He’s extremely wealthy!” Rarity thought.

They couldn’t believe Spike employed men and women like that.

Aside from their uniforms, they didn’t look like servants at all... and yet, they had served Spike happily and faithfully for years.

“Six more for dinner,” Spike told them.

“Very good, sir,” Lemony Crumble replied.

The maids all nodded and smiled adoring smiles as Spike began to walk determinedly past the conservatory towards the colossal staircase that stood at the far end of the great hall.

The girls gazed in speechless wonder as Spike led them into the main living room, almost afraid to breathe. As they took a look around, they were quick to notice the elegant furniture, including a sofa made of the finest leather hide from Itaily. A giant fireplace was at the center of one of the walls (it almost took up the entire side of one third of the room), and inside the hearth, a fire was crackling, casting light and warmth that filled the entire chamber.

As Rarity stared into the flames, her imagination began to run wild. She imagined a cold winter night, her and the one she loved, snuggling under silk sheets, her wearing something sleek and scandalous, maybe a little incense, soft candlelight, romantic music, a Prench dinner... and he would whisper sweet nothings in her ear.

Then Fluttershy gasped at the polar bearskin rug in front of the burning embers.

“This room is crazy huge!” Rainbow Dash said. “And it’s just for Spike, all by himself?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lemony Crumble replied. “This is just the living room area. The master’s bedroom and personal study are separate... you are adorable for thinking that, though.”

As the girls warmed themselves close to the fire, they continued to look around. They never saw such a place. The most fantastic grandfather clock they ever laid their eyes on, music boxes carved out of wood, each one a work of art on its own; and more paintings of several different things: two bright stars shining through clouds at night above Canterlot, a pirate ship, a herd of buffalo, and a Native Equestrian tribe in a wooded encampment.

“Mighty nice set-up ya got here,” Applejack said. “And it was mighty nice of ya to invite us here, too. Ya really got this all to yourself?”

Spike nodded.

“Dude, this is some crib! Seriously, my church isn’t this big!” Rainbow Dash joked.

Pinkie Pie admired the huge wood mantel adorned with a formidable collection of souvenir snow globes Spike had acquired over the years, gallivanting around the world.

“Wow! So pretty,” she said as she shook one. “Where in Equestria did you get these?”

She answered her own question when she saw the words upon the bronze plaque at its base. She gently put it back with the others, including ones from Manehattan, Fillydelphia, New Horseleans, San Franciscolt, West Califoalnia; and Albuckuerque, New Mexicolt. And there were not just ones from Equestria; but ones from Casaflanka, Moroccolt; its sister city Casabronco, Maredrid, Spony; Mareis, Prance; Thrace, Keneighya, Germaney, Yokohayma and Trotkyo, Jockeypan; Rio de Janeighro, Brayzil; Caneighada, Tahayiti, Neighrobi, Rome, Itaily; and Shanghayi... twenty-six in all.

“Who did you have to kill to get all this stuff?” Pinkie asked.

Spike secretly wished she hadn’t worded it like that.

He collected a lot of interesting things, and not just art, but miscellaneous knickknacks and collectibles from other countries: porcelain figurines, marionette puppets, and a doll that could only talk if someone gave her string a pull.

“I haven’t seen one of these in years,” Pinkie said.

“They don’t make dolls like that anymore,” Applejack shared. “Not since the Sweetheart Toy Company almost went out of business 14 years ago.”

Originally named Schätze Toy Company, before the War Against the Reich, it was the largest toy manufacturer in Germaney.

“When I was a little girl, my mother would take me down to the Sweetheart Toy Factory each year at Hearth’s Warming time,” Applejack recalled fondly. “She wanted to impress upon me how lucky we were to give and receive.”

“By collecting toys from the factory and donating them to charity,” Fluttershy guessed. “My mother did the same thing. She still does. For years, the Zenith Foundation has continued this tradition, even after they prevented the Sweetheart Toy Company from closing.”

Then Fluttershy gasped at a tiny plush lobster toy on a little pedestal by the mantle.

“A Pinchers!” she exclaimed.

“That’s right,” Spike said. “You collect Beanie Babies®?”

“Well, I’ve seen them at the mall,” Fluttershy laughed nervously. “No big deal.”

“Seen them? We went wild for those little things,” Pinkie shared. “So, who’s your favorite? Mine’s Dazzler, obviously. Oh, so cute,” she giggled.

“What was that one you would never let your mom wash?” Sunset Shimmer asked Fluttershy. “A purple dragon, that’s it. You still sleep with that little guy, don’t you?” she chuckled (almost evilly).

“You will pay for that,” Fluttershy thought.

“I’m a collector,” Spike admitted. “I thought they were a good investment.”

While the other girls were talking about their toys, Rainbow Dash’s eyes were drawn to the liquor cabinet.

“Sweet mother of pearl,” she thought. “Each of these is probably worth a fortune on its own. Screaming Eagle ale, hard cider, Wolf beer... Roaring Dragon Wine?! Bucking jackpot! I didn’t think this stuff really existed! I would get sooo hammered...”

Spike’s tastes were as refined as they were mysterious.

Taking a small gold key from his pocket, Spike approached the liquor cabinet, unlocked it, and carefully selected a brandy bottled in 1783.

“Seventeen eighty-three was a good year,” he said as poured two glasses. “Mozcart wrote his great mass, the Mountgolfillyer Brothers went up in their first balloon, and Trotland officially recognized the independence of Equestria.”

He offered the second glass to Rainbow Dash, who held it with both hands. They raised their glasses and each took a sip.

“Smokey...” Dash said.

“It’s got a Tartarus of an after-burn!” she added in thought.

As she continued to sip her drink, she joined Fluttershy at an aquarium built into the wall opposite of the fireplace, filled with tropical marine fish, many of them not native to Equestrian waters—Beta, Clownfish, Lemonfish, Roughy, Rubyscale, Bass, Archerfish, Darter, Arrowfish, Goldfish, Trout, Carp, Grouper, Hatchetfish, Silverfin, Steelbelly, Luminette, Perch, and even a Jockeypanese Tang—as they swam around a small decorative castle inside.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” Spike asked.

“Yes, they-- they are,” Fluttershy replied.

“No matter what’s going on in my life, I can always look at them and be totally at peace,”

Just then, Fancy Pants walked in and said, “Excuse me, sir. Telephone call for you in the study; it’s the Chancellor.”

“What country?” Spike inquired.

“This one, sir,”

“Neighsay? Ugh! Probably needs another loan,” Spike groaned. He turned to the girls as they watched him go and he told them, “This shouldn’t take too long. Please, feel free to look around and touch things while I’m gone.”

As soon as Spike disappeared from their sight, the girls cautiously began to explore his castle, their curiosity aroused.

Applejack trudged along the grand hallways of Spike’s castle until she arrived at a big oak door, opened it, and peeked inside. Turning on the light switch, she saw that the room was filled with weapons and more gruesome machines, everything from stocks and pillories to blowguns and hand grenades. Broadswords hung on the walls. It looked as though Spike had every weapon known to man in this place. She stepped over to a tall, upright box in the corner--which had metal spikes on the inside--to have a closer look at it. That’s when she realized it was an Iron Maiden.

“Who is this guy?” she thought as her eyes roamed around the room. “He gives to humanitarian causes and collects all this.”

There were glass cases on one wall, and Applejack’s jaw dropped when she saw what they contained: an assortment of whips, chains, handcuffs, birch whipping rods, branding irons, a wooden horse, restraints (black leather as well as metal), and other torture devices she could not even begin to identify. She could tell that Spike was an adventurer, tried everything once.

As she backed out of the Armory, she found herself in the garage, where a red convertible was parked near the workbench, and it was covered in tools, including a solid gold twenty-seven piece ratchet set with Spike’s initials engraved into them.

“Ya can’t put a price tag on this kind of hardware,” Applejack said.

She turned away, wondering what else she would find.

At the same time, Sunset Shimmer wandered into one of the vast libraries, which was furnished with bookcases full of everything from modern hardback best sellers to weathered, leather-bound tomes of forgotten lore, all held up by handsome golden stallion and dragon-shaped bookends... all of which were fireproof. The scent of aged paper and leather filled the air, adding to the mystique surrounding the collection.

Sunset’s eyes lit up as she examined the books, their pages yellowed with age and their covers adorned with intricate designs reminiscent of a bygone era. Spike had the latest up-to-date dictionary, scrolls from the Buffalo philosopher Plato, plus textbooks on chemistry, biology, medicine, plastic surgery, and a history of make-up, as well as books about bats, lizards, snakes, and even ogres.

As Sunset approached one of the bookcases, her fingers brushed a set of feathered arrows in a quiver and she studied one of the many shelves of curios. Her gaze drifted past a small dragon carved out of white marble and a glass box full of carefully preserved iridescent butterflies before scanning a row of books, surveying the titles. She spotted a collection of hefty hardbacks featuring the most fabulous characters in Trotish literature, including Robyn Hood, King Pendragon, Bucky Sharp, Shamrock Honeycombs and Olive R. Twist, among many others.

She slid one of the novels out, read the golden title on its embossed cover--Gone with the Wind--and carefully opened it, half-expecting a mighty gust to erupt from the pages. Her eyes flashed as she closed the book and slid it back into its spot on the shelf when she saw Lemony Crumble staring at her from the doorway leading out to the hall.

Her eyes met his as she asked, “How did you come to work for Spike?”

“I answered an ad for a summer job five years ago. I’ve been with him ever since,” he replied. “Summers in Mareis, winters all over Europone, and the rest of the year in Equestria... but I’m living his life, not mine.”

Meanwhile, Fluttershy opened the door to the conservatory and peered inside. It contained bushes of roses of almost every color, and rare hybrids including the result of a lily being bred with a Venus flytrap, appropriately dubbed a flytrap lily.

She had never, ever seen another plant of its kind.

And when a fly buzzed overhead, the fanged flower chomped.

She chose another door and she couldn’t believe her eyes.

The door opened to reveal a whole room covered in nothing but gold coins. And not just gold, but treasure chests and velvet sacks stuffed to their brims, each full of pearls, jewels and other magnificent treasures. And in the center of it all were a lump of amber and a gold nugget bigger than herself--extremely big, extremely heavy and extremely valuable--sitting on top of a large anvil also made out of solid gold (and showing little signs of wear).

Fluttershy had heard the expression “worth his weight in gold,” and Spike was so rich that he was literally rolling in dough. Truly, it was a mighty collection.

She quickly closed the door.

That room was obviously private. Tartarus, it should have been locked.

But instead of greed or even her usual lustful hunger for Spike, curiosity filled her.

The man was shrouded in even more mystery.

She continued down the hallway, away from the gold room, and then paused when she spotted another portrait of a man. His expression was severe, his pose dignified, as if he was still guarding secrets long past. His piercing eyes were familiar, echoing the intensity she’d seen in Spike. And she began to lose herself in the mystery of the man’s stern, attractive gaze. The quiet of the castle amplified her thoughts as she turned away and gazed out a nearby window.

“I must be imagining things. For a moment, I thought I saw a tiger in Spike’s backyard,”

While Fluttershy was taking in her intimidating surroundings, Pinkie Pie was all but literally bouncing off the walls. There was one room full of nothing but plush pillows, another room that was literally a ball pit, and a storage room with an old chest full of old costumes.

“Somebody around here must have been in show biz,” she said. “He has a soda fountain in his den!” she squealed. “Stables, helipad, pools, a sauna, a hot tub, a Jacuzzi, and a bowling alley, oh my!” she exclaimed before she peeked into the laundry room, where the three maids bustled around the ironing board.

As they worked, Pinkie caught glimpses of Red Ribbons making a huge feather bed with silken sheets and Twinkleworks folding fine linens while Tote Bag mended a hole in a shirt. Pinkie was also quick to notice they had a picture of Spike in their quarters; it was a pinup from when he was Mr. July on the Playgirl calendar.

She eventually found the kitchen. Traditionally, a more feminine room, Spike’s kitchen had a more masculine touch to it—cloves of garlic and sun-dried ancho, chipotle and chili peppers hung from the ceiling in long wreaths, while racks filled with every spice, herb and seasoning lined the counters.

“I could cook the most wonderful meals in a kitchen like this!”

Then she stopped to bask in the glory of the refrigerator.

“It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” she breathed.

Rainbow Dash checked out the workout room, which looked more like a Jockeypanese dojo, before she stumbled across Spike’s man cave.

The entertainment center had everything from a gigantic high definition big screen T.V. with six-speaker hi-fi surround sound system, 250 channels and PlayStation hookup--with the latest video games--to a VCR/DVD combo player, shortwave and long-wave radios, 8-disc CD player, 8-track player, vibrating massage recliners, a mini bar, toaster oven, microwave, two dozen pinball machines (each with its own theme) and no less than six billiard tables.

“Damn!” Rainbow Dash swore. “That’s a nice T.V.!”

Celestia had arranged for it to be delivered three days early--it arrived a little over an hour ago--and it was so big that the instruction manual alone was bigger than the old T.V. set.

Surrounding it were shelves upon shelves filled with old film reels, VHS tapes and DVDs, one had the complete works of Arnold Frankfurter—except the one where he got pregnant—another was covered with trophies, ribbons and medals... all covered in dust.

“When did they make that a sport?” she wondered.

There were baseballs under glass--one signed by Mickey Manetle, another by Joe DiManeggio... and one autographed by Duke “Silver Fox” Snyder and the rest of the 1955 Bronclyn Dodgers, including Joe Black, Sandy Co Fax, “Don” New Comb, Dixie Howl and Pee Wee Reese. But the thing that really caught Dash’s eye was an autographed poster of pro skateboarding sensation and spokesman Pony “Birdmane” Hawk. She saw him compete in the Rage at the Badlands in 1985.

He was the reason Dash got into extreme sports in the first place.

This room put all of her favorite hangouts and sports bars to shame!

All that was missing were the posters of half-naked women in bikinis up on the walls.

Outside Pendragon Castle, Rarity walked the length of the area stretching across the back of the estate, and ruefully passed three dozen sculptures by the outdoor pool. Stone statues of old Chicoltgo gangsters with Tommy guns mingled with steel soldiers shaped like playing cards, very lifelike topiary animals, a bronze sculpture of a man with the head of a bull, and other unsightly statuary.

It looked like the exhibits of a museum that had been condemned.

Spike had a well-rounded collection, not because he thought that fine art was a good investment, and it made Rarity start to think what it suggested about the finances of the lord of the château.

“Old world colonial... It’s elegant yet casual, sophisticated yet tasteful,” she thought.

And yet, she couldn’t help but think how pretentious the man was.

“I’ll wager his pillows are stuffed with money and his boxers are made of silk,” she added to herself. “Assuming he even wears undergarments, that is.”

As she made her way back indoors, she became enchanted with the notion of living in such a big place... with an aromatherapy room, a private steam bath, heated floors, a custom-made armoire, a chifforobe and mirrored walk-in closets, all in oak, maple and mahogany.

She could grow accustomed to this lifestyle... living like Queen Neighfertiti.

“Remember, Rarity, the more they have, the less they’re worth,” she reminded herself. “And this guy must be the most worthless man in Equestria.”

She didn’t buy his pretending-to-be-a-proper-gentleman act. Spike may have looked innocent, but in private, he got hot and heavy with Celestia... or so Rarity believed.

She pulled open the door that led to the music room, which was filled with instruments, most of which began with the letter “B”, including a bass guitar, a banjo, a bassoon, a bugle, bongos, balalaika and bagpipes. Sheet music sat on a table next to an old gramophone and a lot of old vinyl record albums with music by Bach, Beethooven and Brayhms.

Intrigued by the grand piano tucked elegantly in the corner, Rarity walked over to it and gently lifted the fallboard to expose its keys. The dark wood was so polished that it seemed to invite her touch. Then she quivered as she imagined Spike bending her over the piano, her milk white breasts pressing against the fine mahogany cover.

Her gaze drifted from the piano to a canvas on an easel with a paint palette and a cup of brushes on the table beside in. Then she was drawn to a fiery red gemstone in the shape of a heart contained within a large glass bell jar.

Rarity had never seen anything more beautiful. She’d always been a true romantic, a materialistic girl enslaved to pretty things: new clothes, new shoes, new lingerie, expensive smells, the salons, shiny jewelry and designer handbags... but now she wanted to keep this close and admire it forever.

She lifted the glass cover, and reached in to touch the jewel, when a little voice inside her said, “I don’t think you should do that. It’s not yours, after all.”

Rarity was quick to replace the glass cover.

The next room she found was nothing pictures and photographs on the walls. Among them were photos from Spike’s time in the Himalhayan Mountains near the border of Kirina and Neighpal. His three months studying with the high holy monks of Kathmanedu were invaluable. There were also more whimsical, colorful illustrations of various characters in fantastical situations, and circus posters featuring images of Spike with the caption, “The Unkillable Man”, as well as framed newspaper headlines, article clippings and magazines with Spike on the covers: EQ (Equestria Quarterly), Modern Male, and Newsday... among many, many others.

PENDRAGON MANOR DESTROYED

Pendragon Castle Sold To Private Owner

Young Billionaire Buys Up 435 Prime Acres

New Man in TOWN! Who’s Your Daddy?

Zenith-Mania Sweeps Nation

Zenith Plays Hardball, Board Takes Pay Cut

Zenith, the Commander in Chief of Military Hardware, Takes Command

Zenith Saves South Equestrian Ambassadors From Assassination

Learn The Secret to Not Getting Your @ss Kicked!

The Ultimate Romance: Spike Zenith. He’s Hot, He’s Cool, and He’s SINGLE.

Sexiest Man Alive: Strong, Secure, and Squared Away. At Last, A Real Man.

Then Rarity froze when she saw the plethora of framed black-and-white photos on one wall that featured Spike with almost all of the 20th Century’s internationally known superstars, including most of the biggest stars in Applewood: everyone from Dr. Maretin Luther King Jr. and Mane Allgood, to Detectives Sniff and Couscous, the slipperiest sleuths in all of Moroccolt and masters of disguise. Spike stood with Humphrey Bocart and Sidneighy Greenstreet (the three of them in suits) on the sets of The Mangalese Drake and Casaflanka, lighting the cigars of W. C. Fields and E. G. Robinson, singing alongside Flank Sinatra, Dean Maretin and the rest of the Rat Pack, shaking hands with Care E. Grant and Clark Stable, and posing with the Marks Brothers; Grouchy, Chunky and Harpy, as well as Paul Newmane and Mareilyn Monroe, plus Dalton Whinny and his “Nine Old Men.” He sat beside directors Hitchcock, Spielberg and Olive R. Stone, as well as other big names like Shirley McLane, Burt Reinolds, Marelon Brayndo, Arnold Frankfurter, Sylvester Stallione and Flint Westwood, having steaks with Mr. T and the rest of the A-Team, training with Nureinyev and Baryshneighkov, and standing on the set of The Goodfillies with Maretin Scorsese, Bray Liotta, Robert De Neighro and Joe Pescolt (the latter before he became Mayor of Manehattan).

The list seemed to go on forever: there was Trigger, the “Smartest Horse in the Movies”; Mark Haymill, Rita Mareno, Harvey Kormane, Sandy Duncanter, Twiggy, Rich Little, Steve Maretin and Maretin Short, Brook Shields, Farrah Faucet and Princess Diana of Bales... Not to mention all the various singing sensations such as Maretin Day, Flankces Langford, the Dining Sisters (Jean, Ginger, and Patty), Warring and his Pennsylmaneians, the short-lived Rhythmares, and the even-shorter-lived Starlighters, the Spice Girls and the Buckstreet Boys, Vanilla Ice, an up-and-coming group known as Complex Strategy... and other bands whose names were protected under First Amendment parody rights. And in the center of it all more black-and-whites of Spike sitting next to former Chancellor Neighxon at a baseball game, shaking hands with former Chancellor Reingan, and standing in the middle of all of the then-Supreme Court Justices: Marshal Law, “Really Big Guns” Gunsburg, Scoltia, Junta, Kenneighdy, “Iron Will” Reinquist, Scouter, Brayer, and O’Day.

But Rarity didn’t see any photos of Spike’s family.

“You need photos only when you want to remember something,” he had once said.

It was like he refused to move into the twenty-first century.

Then her eyes focused on a single glossy of him holding a drink in one hand while staring off into the distance... at nothing in particular.

Damn, that tie looked good on him! At least he had good taste—impeccable taste, really.

“Spike really does have it all,” she thought jealously as she left the room before anyone saw her. “Money, awards... all that’s missing is a late-night talk show and fanatical female fans breaking into his home.”

But even with all that, Spike was a male of more questions than answers.

While all of this was going on, Celestia listened through the door to Spike’s study as he discussed economic policy to the Equestrian Chancellor over the phone.

“Neighsay, if the government spends more money than it takes in, it goes into debt,” Spike explained.

After that call, Spike conference called a few of the members of his board of directors.

“Knows, how is Rich Enterprises doing with their development in Brayzil?” Spike asked.

“It’s not,” Knows replied. “Filthy just learned that in order to build Club Rich the way his wife envisions, they would be forced to cut down six thousand of the one hundred million acres of the Brayzilian Rainforest’s jungle, which you just bought for Zenith Industries.”

“And...?” Spike asked.

“If they try to cut down any of that forest, they would have to displace us, and Spoiled Rich could cause trouble,” Knows elaborated.

Spoiled Rich was a first-class bitch.

Naturally, Mr. Rich wouldn’t like to hear his wife referred to as such, but there was nothing first-class about Spoiled Rich except for that.

And she was so full of plastic--from her nose job to her breast implants--that she was practically recyclable.

“Well, she’s not going to want anything to do with that land anyway,” Spike replied.

“Why not?” he asked.

“No ‘real’ night life. Now, how are we doing with our development in South Flankida?”

“Well, sir, we have a problem in Fort Laud-Her-Ale,” Hard Pitch reported. “In order to make room for the magnificent, largest-in-the-world shopping mall, we’re going to have to tear down a nursing home for the aged. At present, there are 200 very old people living there... and most of them are invalids, bedridden and dying... it wouldn’t look good in the papers.”

“Tell them about the nuclear reactor that was standing there before it,” Spike told him.

“Excellent,” Hard Pitch replied.

When Spike finally exited his study, Celestia was quick to notice the change in his eyes.

For some reason, unrelated to his work, Spike was not as cheerful as usual.

“Something’s wrong,” Celestia thought. “His mood is even darker today.”

A Show of Talent

After their dinner with Spike, Pinkie invited the other girls back to her apartment to cram for their midterm exams... which turned into a late night session of pedicures, face masks, and talking about boys.

Applejack, Rainbow Dash, Sunset Shimmer, Pinkie Pie, Fluttershy and Rarity didn’t really have anything that defined them. They all played instruments in a band, but they weren’t “band geeks”; almost all of them played some kind of sport, but they weren’t really athletes; and most of them got good grades, but they weren’t “nerds”. All they really had in common was that they liked each other and enjoyed each other’s company. They had fun together even in the midst of studying... and it was nice to relax for a while with familiar friends.

At the moment, Rainbow Dash was trying to study while Applejack did bicep curls, Rarity and Fluttershy played Scrabble®, and Pinkie painted Sunset Shimmer’s toenails while they listened to the radio.

“That was The Legend of the Steel Driving Man, and you’ve been listening to Beneath the Beats with Vinyl Scratch on NCAB, the voice of New Canterlot University,” the female disc jockey crooned. “That wraps up another night. So until tomorrow night at 6:00 p.m. when NCAB comes back on the air, this is DJ-Pon3 signing off.”

“G-R-I-F-F-O-N,” Rarity said as she placed her tiles on the board. “Fourteen points.”

“What’s a griffon?” Pinkie asked.

“It’s a mythical creature with the head and wings of an eagle and the body of a lion,” Rainbow Dash answered, not looking up from her textbooks.

“What, it couldn’t make up its mind?” Sunset joked.

“Ba-dum-bum,” Pinkie said, imitating a rim shot.

“‘Oxidize. Verb, meaning ‘to combine with oxygen,’ O-X-I-D-I-Z-E, oxidize,” Fluttershy said. “Twenty-four points plus triple word score plus 50 points for using all of my letters.”

Sunset totaled up the score. That last play was worth 122 points, which meant she won.

Rarity heaved a heavy sigh. She hadn’t really wanted to play, anyway. She was more interested in why Rainbow Dash was the only one studying while the rest of them were having fun. On the other hand, it was good to see Dash finally taking an interest in her schoolwork... even if she did tend to gripe about it.

“What are you doing?” Rarity asked.

“Trying to write my paper for Philosophy class,” she answered.

“Looks to me like you’re copying out of those books,” said Sunset.

“I changed a few words here and there,” Dash replied.

“That’s plagiarism,” Sunset stated.

“Copying out of one book is plagiarism,” Dash countered. “Copying out of several books, that’s research.”

“Ya’re only cheating yerself, ya know,” Applejack put in.

“As Shining Armor’s sister used to say, ‘the value of an education is in the learning,’” Rainbow Dash replied mockingly. “And I am learning plenty.”

“Yeah, how to lie,” Applejack replied.

“Cheat,” Sunset added.

“Steal,” Pinkie jumped in. “Wait, what are we talking about again?”

“Hey! Everybody cuts a few corners, bends a few rules now and again: politicians, businessmen, even Spike,” Dash told them. “When you break the rules, like copying someone’s test answers, that’s cheating.”

“Exactly. We have had this conversation before,” Rarity stated. “You do realize that if you fail, you won’t graduate with the rest of us, right?”

Rainbow Dash sighed. “But what if... I’m not that smart?”

“Hey! Who was the one who found the class pet in first grade after we’d all given up?” Pinkie asked. “And who figured out how much cake the average woman could eat without puking? And videotaped it for a science project that got a solid eighty percent!”

“You?” Dash asked.

“No! I may have helped you with that last one, but that was all you, Dashy!” Pinkie exclaimed. “Just because you’re athletic doesn’t mean you’re not smart,” she went on. “You can do anything you put your mind to.”

“And besides, how are you ever gonna pass if you keep dozing off in class?” Sunset Shimmer asked her.

“Philosophy, how can you stay awake?” Rainbow Dash replied then she burped.

Rarity sighed. “Why do we always have to go through this every time we come here?”

“That’s easy: if we stayed where we were, we won’t be where we are,” Pinkie replied. “And consequently, if we aren’t where we are, then where are we?”

“You just need to manage your time a little better,” Sunset said. “We all have something we can work on. If we agree to help you get back on track, do you promise to study?”

“You’d do that for me?” Dash asked.

“Yes,” Applejack, Sunset Shimmer, Pinkie Pie and Rarity all said.

“Okay, I’ll do it,” Dash promised.

Now it was Fluttershy’s turn to sigh. “I wonder what Spike’s doing right now,” she said.

This time, all six girls sighed. It had been only a few hours since they were with him... and he all but threw them out because he believed that they had insulted his house staff. It was his first time inviting someone into his home in a long time—he really tried to make an effort at his relationships with them—but they still felt bad.

They all had some kind of adoration, or infatuation, with him.

Rainbow Dash had a crush on Spike since the day Fluttershy’s brother, Zephyr Breeze, said that Dash’s bathing suit made her butt look fat. Spike overheard him, and pushed him into the pool, and Dash had liked Spike ever since.

“Too bad you don’t like climbing trees,” Dash replied.

“What does climbing trees have to do with--” Rarity gasped. “Are you serious? Why didn’t I think of that?”

“You’re actually into it?” Dash asked.

“Are you kidding? I have the perfect spy-on-Spike outfit!”

Meanwhile, inside the New Canterlot City Police Department, Officer Silver Sable was having another argument with Chief of Police Chocolate Ganache and Ad Vice Captain Shining Armor--not what Shining Armor needed at the end of a long day, which was quickly turning into the start of a longer night.

“We didn’t authorize this statement, Sergeant,” Shining Armor said about the Gazette’s latest headline.

“Come on, Captain,” Sergeant Spearhead replied. “Somebody asked us a few questions; we gave them a few answers.”

“You gave them without approval!” the round-faced Chief of Police shouted. “If you had kept your damn mouths shut, the Dragon wouldn’t know we’re moving AGAINST him!”

Even through all the shouting, Chief Ganache had a conceited look of authority.

“I’ll find him,” Silver Sable said. “I just need a little extra help, sir.”

“What kind of help?” the Chief inquired.

He already knew what Sable wanted: she wanted her own squad for the sole purpose of throwing a net over the vigilante... but Chief Ganache had already denied her “request”.

“Nobody is taking a strike force onto my streets,” he had said.

“The Dragon is bad for the morale of the force, sir,” Silver Sable stated. “And we’ve got to stop it once and for all!”

Silver Sable cast a dark shadow. Not madness, exactly... but definitely obsession.

“And I might suggest the opposite, Officer Sable,” Captain Armor said. “This ‘Dragon’ is actually good for morale. It doesn’t hurt, for some of the men, at least, to know we’re not out there on the street alone.”

“And real cops should not have their pride stripped away and have their noses rubbed in by some vigilante who’s twice the criminal as the scum he’s stealing from us!” she shouted.

“‘Stealing’ from us--?”

“You know what I mean, Captain,”

“Actually, I don’t, Officer Sable,” Shining Armor replied. “Now, if you all will excuse me, I’m late... for a T.V. appearance, of all things.”

Later that night, under a starry, black sky, the girls headed back to Pendragon Castle.

Their bicycles skidded to a halt outside the large iron gates.

“Ya know, trespassin’ is against the law too,” Applejack said.

Ignoring her words, Pinkie Pie crawled underneath the gates while Rainbow Dash and the other girls quickly climbed over them. Then they shimmied over the shrubs and crept stealthily across the grass toward the old, spooky-looking Pendragon Castle. They figured the odds of Spike seeing them were slim, but they were sure the foliage from the trees and shrubs in his yard, combined with the darkness of the night, adequately concealed them. They were not at all worried he might see them.

Applejack followed the other girls as they sneaked around, ducked behind a thick evergreen, then climbed up the tree, carefully choosing branches as they went up. Then they climbed around the trunk of a much larger tree that split to form a V-shape, grabbed hold of the larger tree and hopped over. Fluttershy and Rarity sat in the V of the trunk while Applejack, Rainbow Dash, Sunset Shimmer and Pinkie Pie straddled a long bough, and gazed through the branches at the fourth-story windows of the Castle from their high perch.

Rarity peered through a pair of binoculars when a loud crunch caught her attention and she glared at Pinkie Pie, who apologized.

“Sorry. Carrot,” she said.

“Why are you eating a carrot?” Rarity asked.

“Vitamin A. It helps you see in the dark,” Pinkie explained.

“Well, try to crunch quietly,” Rarity said. “We don’t want anyone to know we’re here.”

Pinkie nodded... then pulled some kind of contraption out of her hair.

“What is that?” Sunset Shimmer inquired.

“It’s an infrared scope,” Rainbow Dash said. “Snipers use it for night-vision.”

“Très convenient,” said Rarity.

“What is Pinkie doing with it?” Sunset asked. “And what are we going to do with it?”

“We shouldn’t be doin’ this,” Applejack said.

“What are you, a ‘fraidy-cat?” Dash asked.

“No. We just believe that you all have gone off the deep end,” Sunset told them. “I mean, carrots, infrared night-vision scopes? What are we gonna do next, tap his phone line?”

“Oh, that can be arranged,” Dash said.

As Applejack glanced at her friends, and then back at the castle across the way, she couldn’t help but think how perverse they were being. She was more of a skeptic, basically grounded in reality and didn’t want to believe that people were up to anything strange because if they were, she would be the one who would have to deal with it. Meanwhile, many others believed that Spike was evil and that he was building a dungeon in his basement.

They were just going to take a teensy-weensy peek inside his window and see what the charming fellow was up to. Their mouths fell open as they peered through the master bedroom windows and caught sight of Spike lifting his black T-shirt over his head, exposing his long, lean form, showing off porcelain skin, a broad chest without a single hair (dark or otherwise) and abs they could literally bounce a quarter off.

Spike used his shirt to wipe his brow before dropping it to the floor then he opened the double doors of his walk-in closet. It was still August, and hotter than ever.

“Good God,” they all thought.

The girls’ hearts pounded with a near madness of lust and desire as they admired his physique. They could see why Spike had so many female admirers: his tall, muscular frame and broad, strong shoulders were very appealing. It was his arms and shoulders that always gave them their first thrill. His handsome face and bulging biceps glistened from the sheen of perspiration that had developed there, as well as along his fine back and chest, which they longed to put their faces into.

As the girls watched Spike unzip and strip off his denim blue jeans, and watched his taut buttocks disappear, each realized that her panties were damp. Spike’s body always had that effect on them, but seeing his bare chest and buttocks made them wetter than usual. They could feel their juices churning like butter as they waited impatiently for him to return—and, God willing, see his beef bayonet—as they found themselves imagining those broad shoulders under their hands, the taste of his sweat on their tongues.

Rarity panted, scolding, as she touched herself. She was a lady and ladies did not do this sort of thing. But she became very warm and wet the more she did it. She undid the button of her pants and slid her hand down her panties. She was leaking so much that her inner thighs were soaked. But before she could orgasm, she let out a loud, involuntary moan... one loud enough that Spike turned his head toward his window.

Snapped out of their reverie with a primal flush of heat, the six young women froze, almost too afraid to move. Suddenly, they scampered down the trees, ran back across the lawn, and jumped over the wall to safety, hardly believing what they had just done.

“That was a close one, ladies and gentlemen,” Rainbow Dash said as they all got back on their bikes and pedaled like their lives depended on it. “Unfortunately, in every contest, there must be a loser. Loo-hoo... se-her!”

It was the middle of the night when Celestia awoke... just in time to catch a glimpse of Spike’s human silhouette as he passed by her open doorway and disappeared down the stairs.

On nights like this she would hear him murmuring something in his native tongue, Draconic. Celestia didn’t know why he did that, and if she ever asked him about it, he would just shrug and say he was just thinking out loud. She put on her robe and followed him downstairs, into the living room. Peeking from behind a high-backed red chair, Celestia found Spike standing alone in the dark, in front of the fireplace, sipping from a glass of Cognac, staring into the roaring flames, smoke curling from the hearth and swirling around his legs. Then she realized it wasn’t the fire that was roaring... it was him.

“Spike, are you all right?” she asked.

“Obviously not if you have to ask that question,” he snapped in reply.

She approached him cautiously, blinking with concern as she rubbed his arm.

“It’s awfully late. Why didn’t you come to bed?” she asked. “Did everything go okay at the office? Did anybody say something to upset you?”

“I’m not upset,” he said with a snort. “What’s there to be upset about? I’m fine.”

“You are not ‘fine,’” she told him. “Did you have another nightmare? I know you’ve been having more and more lately. Something is bothering you. Spike... I’m worried about you.”

He sighed as his fingers grazed the pendant on her gold necklace and said, “I remember when I gave this to you.”

“How long is it going to take for you to be honest with me?” she asked.

Spike didn’t want to tell Celestia what was going on, but she followed his gaze to a stack of half a dozen newspapers on the settee. So many bad stories: a car crash, no fatalities; a girl caught shoplifting, rumors of more drug rings... and a memo that said all police officers that were not working active cases were to attend a sexual harassment lecture at the human resources training center. The female officers could not sit through another one of those; many of them had already threatened to shoot themselves.

“‘Equestrian Dragon Strikes Again’, ‘Police Declare War on Dragon,’” Celestia read the headlines. “I take it you’ve been reading How to Make Friends and Influence People.”

“Somebody’s setting me up,” he told her.

“You mean it wasn’t you tossing guards out of windows that night?” she asked.

“There were two similar incidents at other power plants earlier last week--a coal burning plant and a nuclear reactor. Nobody hurt like last night, but property damaged all the same,”

“And you suspect a pattern,”

“It’s not just them,” Spike said. “It’s this...”

He reached for a remote control on a nearby side table, and turned on the T.V. set.

“From New Canterlot Nighttime, with reporter Inky Quills...” the announcer said.

“Good evening,” Quills began. “Tonight’s topic of discussion is: ‘The Equestrian Dragon: Savior or Scourge?’ With me here in the studio are our guests... New Canterlot Mayor Walt R. Strider, Police Captain Shining Armor, and prominent psychiatrist Dr. Hue Blackburn.”

The mayor, Walt R. Strider, was a greedy, hard-hearted, two-faced, triple-chinned, four-flushing tub of lard who held absolute power and influence over New Canterlot City; while Dr. Blackburn was a stern-faced man whose receding brown hair was slicked back. Compared to them, Shining Armor was the only one who looked like a real human.

“A T.V. show -- the last place a cop is needed,” Shining Armor thought. “Might as well be in church.”

Hot lights, but no yawning allowed.

“Let’s start with you, Mr. Mayor,” Inky Quills said. “What are your feelings about this bizarre new vigilante?”

“My position was, is, has been, and always will be clear and firm,” Strider began. “Although there are those who perceive this shadowy figure as a kind of godsend who fights fire with fire, my responsibility is to put out all the fires. In New Canterlot, no one is above the law.”

Shining Armor thought the man was a pompous ass.

“How can anyone listen to him?” he asked himself in thought. “Why am I even here?”

The truth was Strider hated the Equestrian Dragon for being beyond his control, but never made a firm stand against him for fear of losing any pro-Dragon voters.

“Besides, what do we really know about this dark entity?” the politician asked.

“Dr. Blackburn, perhaps that falls into your area of expertise,” Quills said. “What do we know about this ‘Dragon’?”

“Well, psychologically speaking, I would say he is extremely obsessed and he craves individual power, indicating a paranoid mistrust of others,” he said expertly.

“Let’s take the obsession first, Dr. Blackburn,” Quills said. “Obsessed with what? Stopping criminals, making the police appear foolish and inept?”

“All of that... and more,” Blackburn replied. “Obsessed with the night, with darkness, and with vengeance. I wouldn’t be surprised if he or a loved one was the victim of a crime -- a crime committed in darkness. The very genesis of this tormented figure might well be traced back to the traumatic events of a single key moment... a night that haunts him, and may well haunt him forever.”

“Be that as it may, Doctor, and at this point there’s hardly proof--you mentioned obsession with individual power,” Inky Quills said. “Why?”

“His turf,” Shining Armor thought. “And he knows it damned well.”

“It isn’t obvious?” Blackburn replied. “He hasn’t chosen to join the police force, has he? He’s a rogue who acts alone. And here is the curious part, the fascinating aspect... He does not wish to share his victories and accomplishments, yet he insists on remaining anonymous. He craves fame, wants to be a star, but not as himself--only as this fictional construct, ‘The Dragon.’ This indicates both schizophrenia and a split personality.”

“Have you ever considered that his anonymity is utilitarian and necessary?” Shining Armor interjected. “He can’t do what he does without the disguise. He couldn’t operate without anonymity. He’d be arrested immediately. He might suffer reprisals.”

“Quite so, Captain,” Blackburn agreed, “but the form of his disguise suggests anything but utilitarian motive. Just look at the image he’s chosen. The iconography of a mythological monster. Clearly, he exults in the dark power of this terrifying apparition to--”

“Oh, for Scorpan’s sake! He just wants to scare the shit out of people!” Shining Armor exclaimed. “And nothing strikes terror into people’s hearts like a dragon!”

“Forgive me, Captain Armor, but it almost sounds as if you’re apologizing for this vigilante,” Inky Quills observed, “even defending him. Is that your intent?”

“No,” Shining Armor stated. “If he breaks laws, or takes the law into his own hands, he must be brought to justice... just like anyone else.”

Mayor Strider cleared his throat. “Captain Armor is a very pragmatic, no-nonsense officer, and he gets results. Which is why I am pleased to announce the creation, formation, and authorization of the new top-priority Major Crimes Unit, who will be charged with bringing in all vigilantes, to put a stop to this Dragon once and for all!”

“What is he--?” Shining Armor thought.

“With Captain Armor here as its commander,” Strider stated.

“Me? So that’s why I’m here with him -- instead of the Chief of Police,” Shining thought.

It was going to be his responsibility that the urban legend didn’t become a folk hero.

“Well, this is news, Mr. Mayor,” Inky Quills said. “And may I say you’ve certainly chosen a very public forum I which to deliver your announcement.”

“On the other hand, Quills, this ‘psychological profile’ business may also have some merit,” Strider went on. “I don’t mind saying I’m impressed by Dr. Blackburn’s insights, since it is also my opinion that this Dragon is some sort of deranged power-freak.”

“And on that note, I’m afraid we are out of time,” Inky Quills cut in. “So I’d just like to thank our guests and say good night, and a better tomorrow.”

The shirtless dragon in human form switched off the television then rested his agonized face in his hands.

“Why did he get to me? Because some of what he said may be somewhat true...? No... just another modern witch doctor on a screen... and I have other things to worry about. But... was it true? Must I act alone? Is my ego that huge? My obsession that great? What would it take for me to trust someone? And who could I trust?”

Spike slowly turned to look at Celestia, his gaze moving from her sleeveless baby blue nightgown to her smooth, youthful face. He thought she and her sister would have stayed with him only until that first spring thaw and be on their way. But one thing he had learned about them was that they didn’t change their minds once they had decided on something... and they seemed Tartarus-bent on staying with him until the end of Time.

He threw Celestia down onto the settee with such ferocity that it surprised her, even more so when he climbed on top of her. Her breathing became ragged, and she writhed beneath Spike as he forcefully grabbed one of her breasts and lowered his lips to her rosy nipple. His tongue met the bud with such vigor that it left Celestia breathless for a moment. He bit and suckled with a fervor he had never displayed before, and her whimpers of pleasure were quickly turning into screams of ecstasy.

“Please, don’t tease me,” she told him.

Celestia stopped moaning when Spike’s mouth left her nipple... and then he stopped moving entirely. Her breasts were heaving with each breath, her eyes begging him to continue.

She looked at him with love as he gazed back at her with longing in his own eyes, but he remained silent. He didn’t think this would make her anxious, but Celestia began to think that Spike was mad at her.

She couldn’t stand when he was mad at her.

Celestia wanted to please him, make him happy.

Her arms were crossed enticingly beneath her breasts, lifting them as if in offering, as she looked at him with eyes on the brink of tears. Her warmth melted into him and her curls teased him ceaselessly. He’d stopped counting the number of times he’d almost buried his face in her hair. What the Tartarus had he been thinking, telling her he wouldn’t approach her again? Now, every inch of his being rebelled against his own oath...

“Spike, what have I done wrong?” she pleaded sadly. “I’ve always done what you’ve asked of me. Why do you torment me? Please, tell me... I love you.”

Spike hated to see a grown woman cry; he hated hearing Celestia beg even more.

“Nothing,” he sighed as he lifted her chin so she could look at him. “You’re beautiful.”

It was true. She looked like the woman he’d always had: a voluptuous goddess in lingerie. Spike knew that he should be overjoyed to have this fallen angel at his beck and call, but he always held back.

He knew that this was wrong.

Celestia had been perfect for getting out all of his centuries of pent-up frustration, but she barely satisfied his emotional needs. Spike swore that he would never raise a claw to her, never use her, or abuse her, to satisfy his own carnal desires.

“What am I doing?” he asked himself aloud. “I attacked you, threw you down, almost took you by force, and for what? A temporary solution to my--?”

Spike couldn’t even finish his sentence, he was so ashamed.

It wasn’t just those sensations, though. It was also the way this fallen goddess had said she felt about him. She had said she loved him and wanted to be with him. But Spike understood that she wasn’t just using the words; it was what she was willing to do with him that she felt something much stronger than physical attraction.

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed.

His head came to rest on Celestia’s breast and she gently stroked his hair as he listened to her heart beat, and he stayed in her arms until he fell asleep.

Back at the T.V. station, Mayor Strider chewed on a piece of key lime pie as he looked at Shining Armor thoughtfully.

“Brilliant idea, eh, Captain?” he said at last. “And announced with maximum publicity. You can start picking your men tomorrow.”

“But--” Shining Armor tried to protest.

“I think Chief Ganache can spare a few men,” Strider said. “After all, you do have a reputation for getting results. Anything else, Captain?”

“No... just make sure the D.A.’s office can give us an airtight case,” Armor replied.

“If you catch him, I’ll put him in jail for you,” the district attorney, a golden-haired maiden named Dane Tee Dove, stated with a smile.

“Dr. Blackburn?” Strider called out. “If I could have a moment? I really did like your observations, Doctor. In fact, I’d like to explore the possibility of you serving as a consultant to the Major Crimes Unit.”

“Well, now...” Blackburn said.

“He’s buying it -- eating it up with a spoon -- as if he could figure out who the Dragon might be...” Shining Armor thought. “God. The Dragon... he’s more effective than fifty cops on the street. What do I do? Even if I could stop him... how can I?”

In the morning, the students at New Canterlot University assembled in the auditorium to discuss the list of remaining preparations for the school’s open house carnival coming up that weekend. Juniper Montage, in particular, wanted to profit off this opportunity and encourage more girls to enroll.

“Ray? Ray? Here, boy,” Sunset Shimmer called out.

“Hey, Sunset,” Pinkie greeted her.

“Shh! Ray has gone missing,” Sunset said.

“You don’t suppose he went into hibernation early, do you?” Fluttershy asked.

“Not likely,” Sunset replied. “The University’s open house festival is this weekend. If the little guy missed it, he’d be crushed. Huh? Oh! Hey! Hey!”

Sunset started giggling as she reached into her jacket’s breast pocket and pulled out a handsome leopard gecko.

“Ray!” she exclaimed happily.

“Sunset, have you ever thought about getting a normal pet?” Rarity asked.

“Like what?” Sunset replied.

“Something not reptilian,” Rarity said.

Ray stuck his tongue out at her like he was blowing a raspberry.

“You don’t deserve to be kissed by a handsome reptile,” Fluttershy told her.

It was then that Juniper Montage stomped in, and instead of “good morning,” she started by tearing into them.

“Okay, the school’s open house festival is this weekend!” she began. “And the theme for this year is ‘New Students’. The open house is our best chance to prove that New Canterlot U is the only logical choice. Right now, we’re perceived as stuck-up, elitist and socially exclusive. By this time next year, we will improve the school’s image by getting as many new students as possible! It’s going to be up to all of you to make this fantasy a reality!”

Unfortunately, there were more than a few problems with that.

New Canterlot University was a university for college kids. There was no pressure to excel, but the faculty didn’t want the students slacking off, either. They studied as much or as little as they wanted to... which, more often than not, was just enough to get by. And because New Canterlot University expected so much less from its students, the professors could spend time on other pursuits: novels, research projects, sorority girls... and because New Canterlot U was the only game in town, they didn’t have to worry about losing grant money or other funding due to academic performance.

And since many of the students were heirs to the various small businesses around town (the ones that weren’t a Zenith Industries property), the cultural festival served as an opportunity for them to demonstrate their skills in management and budgeting through how well they set up and organized the activities.

“So, any ideas on what your classes can contribute?” Headmistress Cadence asked them.

“I don’t know, something awesome?” Rainbow Dash retorted.

“Maybe we could sell food?” Lily suggested.

“What if we put together a little café?” Rose asked.

“If we’re gonna do a café, we should make it a maid café!” Pinkie Pie said.

“No! No! Nooo!” Rarity protested. “I don’t want that at all!”

“I’m with Rarity,” Sunset Shimmer put in. “I don’t want to do a maid café, either.”

“I think we should so something more appropriate,” Daisy went on.

“Then let’s do a butler café!”

“Does anyone besides Pinkie Pie have any ideas?!” Juniper Montage asked.

Pinkie studied comedy and was very adept at gags; from stupid puns to wicked jokes, her style was comical, unusual and whimsical. She was also good at dancing.

However, problems had arisen with many of the college’s younger students because Juniper Montage had vetoed any and all activities she considered ridiculous. She felt they’d over-thought things, trying to come up with something “fresh” and new... even the ideas proposed by the girls that were little more than attempts to exploit the boys. When the boys marched in, they were not happy.

“So, did you finally manage to come up with a proper proposal this time?” she asked.

“Yes,” the chubby Snips conceded. “Even though our last idea was cool and amazing, we may have gone a little overboard. So, we toned it down and this is what we came up with.”

He nodded to his lanky buddy Snails, who stepped forward and unfurled a lengthy scroll... with a single idea.

“‘A Rock, Paper, Scissors Tournament’? Rejected,” Juniper said.

“Why?!” Snips asked. “We’ve always had one of these!”

“There is no such tradition,” Juniper argued.

“We did it last year and it was a big hit, right?” asked Snails.

“Only with all of YOU, it was,” she snapped.

“And what’s wrong with that?!” Rumble shouted.

“The open house fest is for all of us to enjoy!” Shady Daze added.

“Do you even hear yourselves when you talk?!” Juniper Montage screeched. “Have you morons even been listening to a single word that I have said!? Your class is the only one that hasn’t decided yet. Get out and don’t come back until you can bring me a real idea! One that will ATTRACT students NOT send them running for the hills!”

“You keep rejecting everything, and not just the good ones!” Snips bickered.

“Because every single thing you have suggested has been totally worthless!”

“So... I’m guessing a photo shoot, costume contests and coed self-defense seminars are all out?” Pinkie Pie asked.

Ultimately, Juniper decided that the second-years would host a coffee shop as suggested by Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo--the top three female students in the class.

“Headmistress Amore, say something!” the boys begged.

At first, Cadence didn’t want to—she really want to do it—she wanted them to settle this among themselves. If she had known that this is what she would have to deal with, she wouldn’t have accepted the job. She felt more like a high school principal than a college headmistress.

It wasn’t until after the boy students started chanting her name that she finally stepped up to Juniper Montage and asked, “Okay, what am I supposed to tell her?”

“Say, ‘let them do the Rock, Paper, Scissors Tournament,’” Snips replied.

“Fine. Let them do the Rock, Paper, Scissors Tournament,” she echoed unemotionally.

“No, no, Headmistress, you have to say it with conviction,” Snails told her.

“Honestly, I don’t really care one way or the other,” she admitted.

“What?!” the boys cried.

“Still, that being said, they make a fair point,” she said to Juniper Montage. “Couldn’t you at least listen to the guys a little more and try to take their opinions into consideration?”

“I can’t argue with that,” Juniper thought.

While Headmistress Cadence Amore was dealing with her students, Police Captain Shining Armor was dealing with his own childlike subordinates.

“What I need is someone I can trust... but not have a lot of faith in,” he thought as he entered the police station’s gym room. “A good cop, but one who’s not that good... someone clean, on the straight-and-narrow, and tough... A real go-getter, but one who doesn’t necessarily get anyplace--dedicated, but strictly by-the-book... Blinded by a gutful of personal hate... and none too bright in the first place...”

“Officer Sable, how are you feeling about the Dragon today?” he asked.

“The Dragon?” she replied as she looked at herself in the mirror while lifting weights. “I want to murder him, that’s how I feel!”

“Then congratulations, you’re being tapped to serve as second-in-command on the new Major Crimes Unit,” Shining Armor said. “I want you to prepare a list of ten plainclothes officers for my approval.”

“That’s it?” she asked. “That’s all you want me to do?”

“A unit can’t do much of anything until it’s been formed, now can it?”

She understood, nodded and said, “All right, you’ll get your list.”

On his way to his office, Shining Armor was stopped by Sergeant Spearhead.

“The mayor’s office wants everything on the Dragon, Captain,” he said. “I think it’s for that shrink Hue Blackburn.”

“You can tell Strider he’ll have what he wants by tomorrow,” Shining Armor answered.

“And don’t forget everything on the vigilante, Captain--all nineteen alleged sightings to date, including Monday night,” Spearhead said.

Thirty minutes later, at the newsstand near Zenith Industries across town, Minuette Colgate--in a black suit jacket and matching skirt--bought a copy of Melee magazine and skimmed the pages as cars blocked the intersection to the highway and North 4th Street.

Riding his motorcycle, Spike--wearing a black helmet and black leather jacket--weaved through the traffic. The light turned green but the vehicles remained at a standstill. He turned onto the clear street and parked in the small space between two Trans Ams--one black, one white--at the curbside, and Minuette eyed him seductively as she walked past.

At the same time, members of Animals Need Universal Support (formerly known as Citizens Opposed to the Mistreatment of Animals) crowded around outside the entrance to Zenith Industries, trying to do an exposé on the company’s meatpacking plant.

After a breakfast of bacon, sausage, ham and scrambled eggs, the last thing Spike wanted to deal with was animal rights activists. And unfortunately for him, the only way to his office was through them. So he marched straight toward the blockade of protestors... led by an old, gray-bearded, morbidly obese bastard in a wheelchair that went by the name of Green Scare.

“What have you got against animals?” he demanded.

“What have you got against him?”

The crowd looked behind Spike to see a ripped female with white hair and amber eyes step out of the white Trans Am. She wore ripped blue jeans, brown leather boots, a tight white tank top under a brown bomber’s jacket, and black fingerless gloves. And she was accompanied by two other, similar young women, who got out of the black Trans Am.

The second woman also had white hair, but the tips of it were frosted a light shade of emerald. She wore jeans and a brown leather jacket, but over a sleeveless latex halter top that showed off her neck and sharp athletic shoulders. The third woman was smaller and younger, with darker hair and dressed in gray, from her coat to her boots, like she was ready for winter.

“What exactly is your problem?” their leader asked. “A man your age, throwing a fit like a punk kid, you are the one who should be ashamed!”

She grabbed the fat protester by his shirt, hauled him out of his wheelchair, and she pulled out a switchblade and held under his greasy chin before he could even try to fight back.

“Now, you listen to me, you oversized rat jackass. If I ever catch you harassing Spike again, if I catch you ANYWHERE NEAR him again, Tartarus, if I so much as see your face in this town again, you’re dead!” she swore. “I am gonna gut you like a fish! I will cut your belly open, slice your heart in half, and drink your blood! Then I’m gonna peel your face off your head and use it to wipe my butt after I take a shit down your throat. GOT IT!?”

The fat protestor choked, “I... Who are you?”

“The name’s Gilda,” she stated. “I’m a friend of Spike Zenith. And, since I’m in a very good mood right now, I’m gonna cut you a break. Today only. Now why don’t you make like Michael Jackass and beat it!”

And she threw him back into his wheelchair, which crunched under his weight.

“I’ll just assume you said what I thought I heard you say,” a new voice said.

Spike and the crowd turned again, this time to see Silver Sable and a dozen other uniformed officers approaching them.

As Gilda met the policewoman’s gaze, her sneer turned into a genuine smile. Then she gave up her switchblade and assumed the position--hands behind her head.

The police ordered the protestors to disperse as Silver Sable read Gilda her rights and shoved her into the back of a nearby black-and-white patrol car.

“Want my advice? Shut up. If you behave, I might give your pig-sticker back when we get to the station,” she told her.

After the crowd was gone and the remaining officers made sure Spike was unharmed, he led Gilda’s accomplices--named Greta and Gabby--into Zenith Industries main building, where a security guard handing Spike a pair of small silver devices shaped like crescent moons.

“You’ll have to wear these tracking pins,” he said. “We’ve had some security issues in the city recently and we wanna make sure you stay safe.”

“What kind of issues?” Gabby asked.

“Nothin’ we can’t handle,” Spike answered.

Gabby and Greta followed Spike into the elevator, up to the main conference room, for discussions with the section heads of his various operations. He would be updated on the morning’s progress; he gave few orders, mostly observed, and let the teams get on with their work. The only demand he made was no smoking.

He had arrived a few minutes before the staff meeting was supposed to begin.

“Morning, ladies,” he greeted them. “What’s up, T-Bone?”

Spike kicked off his boots then kicked his bare feet up onto the conference table. Then the rest of the section heads took off their shoes and sat down.

“All right, let’s get started,” he said. “First, Quills and Sofas?”

“No problems,” Davenport replied.

“Photo department?” Spike asked Photo Finish.

“Under control,” she answered.

“Fashion?” he asked.

“As tight as your butt,” Prim Hemline said.

“Bagel and orange juice?”

“Already on your desk,” Fancy Pants stated.

“This was the best meeting so far,” Spike told them. “Dismissed.”

After they all collected their shoes, Greta and Gabby continued to follow Spike as he walked down the corridor and into his private office. They glanced around the room. Bigger than most apartments, it was all black leather furniture and mahogany walls with soft, plush red carpet; luxury upon luxury.

Spike locked the doors behind them then took a wad of cash out of his pocket as he walked over to one of the bookshelves behind his desk, and opened a book titled The Highland Dragon. The pages were cut away and computer discs filled the hollow inside.

Greta let out a squawk as Spike put the money inside, walked over to the mini-bar across from the bookcase, poured himself a Scotch, and took a sip of the liquor, anxious to transform and spread her wings.

Griffons were ferocious, aggressive and territorial carnivorous avian beasts that engaged in brutal aerial combat. When they attacked, they were as swift as eagles and struck with a lion’s might and savage grace. Griffons also laid eggs only once every thousand years, which were very beautiful and very valuable... and because griffon eggs were so rare, there were a lot of undesirables who would love to get their hands on one.

A griffon raised from an egg could be trained to serve as a mount. Once trained, the griffon was a fierce and loyal steed. However, such training was time consuming, expensive--mostly for the ample food the creature required--and dangerous. Expert trainers well versed in the griffon’s legendary ferocity were the only ones able to raise the creatures safely.

That’s how the Equestrian Dragon had first met Gilda, Greta and Gabby, when he had been tasked with helping them guard a griffon egg until it hatched. It didn’t belong to any of them—meaning, it wasn’t theirs—but long story short, the egg was stolen and it led them on a frenzied romp through New Yoke City.

Griffons were just as greedy as Dragons, they had the same vulnerability to Sphinx hair... and they retained ravenous appetites for meat. Normally, Gilda grilled her own meat, but they had a particular fondness for horsemeat, which is what Spike took from a mini-fridge beneath the mini-bar and offered it to the two lady griffons.

Gabby blushed. “For me?” she asked sweetly as she batted her eyelashes at him. “Spike, you shouldn’t have, but I’ll take it anyway.”

“Girls, do you have any idea why my company is so successful?” Spike asked them. “I am successful because I give the people what they want.”

“Well, maybe they’re smarter than you think,” Greta said. “Maybe they want something more than ‘ten easy ways to kill a man by using only one finger.’”

“Well, that’s not a risk I’m willing to take,” Spike stated. “I am Zenith Industries. I am guns, bombs, cars, food, oil, real estate, exports, steel and now diamonds and silver.”

He belched a cloud of smoke, which formed a dollar sign, and the two leather-clad griffon girls looked Spike up and down (practically stared at him) as he stepped behind a privacy wall, took off his T-shirt and changed into a black button-up.

“Our mission is to celebrate the life you have, instead of dreaming of someone else’s... and everyone shares in the riches,” he went on. “Which brings me to the business I called you here for: helping me to organize the fundraiser for the Zenith Industries Job Fair and Barbecue.”

Spike handed Greta a big, thick, weathered book and she read the cover.

“‘The Zenith Industries Steak Dinner Bible,’” she said.

“I created this in 1789 and have honed and perfected for over two centuries,” Spike told them. “Now, before every job fair my employees gather and feast upon this winning formula.”

“‘Guns and Ammo must never sit at the same table as Gift Wrapping.’ ‘Fulltime employees must face the north, part-time the south.’ You have got to be kidding!”

“Greta, I never joke about my work,” Spike stated.

As she began to read, Gabby leaned in, touching her cheek to his.

“They’re watching us,” she said. “I know why you’re here. I know what you’ve been doing. I know why you hardly sleep, why you live alone, and why, night after night, you sit at that computer. You’re looking for him. I know, because he found me. And when he did, he told me to warn you. He’s out there, Spike. He’s looking for you... and he will find you.”

Meanwhile, in the combination ad agency-law firm on the twelfth floor of the building, Miss Diamond Mint was meeting with her colleagues to discuss potential clients and contracts.

There was Prim Posy a cute blonde with an excellent insight into romance; then there was Drizzle, an arrogant, over-sexed and openly promiscuous blonde with degrees in astrophysics and biochemistry; and Serena, a young, white-haired advertising executive looking to branch out from her usual remit by leading a prestigious ad campaign.

“Oh, good, Serena’s here. We can begin,” Diamond Mint said. “Okay, on to pressing business. Word has come to us that iron and steel magnate, Spike Zenith, has dismissed his current tax lawyers.”

“Spike Zenith, born and raised in Loch Neighss, Scoltland, immigrated to the Equestrian States, where he’s been residing to today,” Prim Posy briefed them.

“Now, we’ve all heard that Mr. Zenith has a penchant for thriftiness, and that he brings new meaning to the term ‘conservative,’” Diamond Mint told them. “It’s not going to be easy. He’s suspicious of everyone and generally paranoid.”

“I’m his girl,” Drizzle said quickly. “I’m single. I’ll give him nights, weekends...”

“Aren’t you getting married soon, Drizzle?” Serena asked.

“I’m flexible,” Drizzle grinned. “And I wouldn’t want this to interfere with your vacation to Haywaii. Go. I got it all taken care of.”

“Well, that’s very admirable of you, Drizzle,” Serena replied. “I mean, you definitely are an ass... et to this company, especially at the annual softball game... but to an archconservative Scoltsman? What we will do is not charge Mr. Zenith one cent for his estate planning. Why? Because we do not care about that measly little fee; instead, we use it as a loss leader to get his corporate business, the multitrillion-dollar Zenith Diamonds and Silver conglomerate.”

Five minutes after the meeting ended—and leaving her colleagues to think over what she had just proposed—Serena was in her office talking with forewoman Florina Tart, one of Applejack’s cousins; a pale blonde secretary named Spring Forward, and the company’s beefy gofer/office boy T-Bone, who had just come from the staff meeting with Spike upstairs.

“Congratulations on turning it around in there,” Spring Forward said.

“Well, you were right,” Florina Tart added. “Zenith Diamonds and Silver is looking for a new attorney and ad agency. Diamond Mint wants to move on it aggressively.”

“Yes!” Serena hissed. “Oh, this is a good day. This is a good day. Girls, did you know that diamonds are about as common as taxis in Manehattan? The value is entirely sentimental... maintained by supply, demand and advertising. Now, Zenith dominates the world diamond and silver markets. Meaning if I represent him, I basically represent the entire industry.”

T-Bone gave a disgruntled groan and said, “Diamond Mint gave it to the preds.”

“Shears and Grey, they’re already on it,” Florina Tart confirmed.

“No! No way!” Serena exclaimed.

“Yeah, well, you know she’s kind of partial to big, beautiful men, for some reason,” Florina mumbled.

“And we’re the sneakers and beer division,” T-Bone went on. “Precious metals and precious gems aren’t exactly our forte.”

“Ox and Bull are over at a dudes’ magazine right now,” Serena said. “I gotta get to Zenith before they sink--”

“You can’t,” Spring Forward replied. “They’ll be on a plane leaving for Chicoltgo soon, and it’s too late anyway because Diamond Mint’s meeting them for drinks at Maretini’s next week to discuss their idea--”

“This isn’t happening, you know why?” Serena asked. “This was my tip. It’s going to be my pitch, my account, my campaign. This is my baby. They will not ace me out of this.”

“That’s what I’m talking about,” said T-Bone.

Shortly after, he rushed down to the grounds outside the building where the Zenith Industries’ Job Fair would be held and showed Spike the barbecue’s menu.

“How about you show me what you’ve got?” Spike began.

“We tried to think of things that would be easy for us to make ourselves,” T-Bone explained. “Also, could you take a look at the job fair’s layout?”

Spike went back and forth between the two sheets and said, “It would be better to separate the guests from the cooking area. Also, there’re too many items on this list. You should avoid using any of the more elaborate dishes. The more requirements there are on the kitchen, the longer your turnaround time will be. And if you leave the finishing touches to the wait staff, it will create more interaction with the customers... two birds, one stone.”

“Wow, Boss, you know a lot about this,” T-Bone said. “You sound like an expert.”

At the same time, in Zenith Industries’ Building C, the slaughterhouse, Caramel was shouting, “Coexistence is a fucking joke!”

“You want to say that a little louder?” Lucky Clover asked. “I think the soldiers on the other side of the continent didn’t quite hear you.”

“He took me off the active roster! I don’t give a shit if the whole planet hears me!!”

Caramel was lucky he hadn’t been fired for gross negligence.

“Hey, I’m just as upset as you are about being demoted from forklift operator and delivery driver to practically slave labor,” Lucky Clover retorted. “I just don’t have the worry lines to prove it. Look, this isn’t the time for my stinging barbs or your lame comebacks. I’m losing my power base. I’m over a barrel, like you at that charity hoedown.”

“What’s it matter?” Sugar Grape asked them. “Speak or not speak, it makes no difference. But it wasn’t always like this, was it? There was a time when Equestria flourished without cruelty and fear... the time of Dragons. No one could defeat them. Until, that is, a necromancer named Grogar decided to take their power for himself and cut down anyone who opposed him. And one day, he will pay for his crimes. The time of Dragons will come again.”

Ignoring her, Caramel and Lucky Clover went back to packing boxes.

Despite Caramel’s outbursts, he wasn’t as bitter about his demotion as he was before.

“I’ve been wondering about something, though. Have you ever wanted to be a company vice-president?” he asked Sunburst.

“Never,” Sunburst replied.

“You must’ve been surprised when you were scouted by Spike,” Sugar Grape said. “You can only work for Mr. Zenith if he hires you personally. He’s very selective about those he considers ‘worthy of representing his company.”

“Yeah, I believe that’s called ‘headhunting,’” Lucky Clover replied.

There was a certain truth to what was being said. It seemed that only those with--at least in Spike’s eyes--certain circumstances could join... and Zenith Industries was a cornucopia of unique personalities.

“Take them, for example,” Sugar Grape said, pointing to a group of three men across the warehouse. “Iron Hammer is a former Hooviet officer who comes from a long line of tailors in Moscolt. Sergeant Flash Flood used to be a safecracker, pickpocket, forger and headlining escape artist back in his home country of Trotland. And Water ‘One Cut’ Burns, the city’s barber, used to give thousands of crew cuts to the new recruits of our own nation’s military.”

The list seemed to go on and on.

“Wow. Zenith really does have one of everything, doesn’t he?” Caramel asked.

“And yet, we’re still short a tenor for the men’s quartet,” Lucky Clover replied.

They were as much a ragtag group if there ever was one.

Some people thought Spike had his work cut out for him.

They all had made mistakes.

But Spike gave them a second chance, and they had proven that they would never do anything to jeopardize that or hurt him.

“Does that mean even Spike has something he can’t tell anyone, a secret he doesn’t want to let anyone know?” they thought.

At the New Canterlot City Police Department, Gilda was still sitting in an interrogation room, having been taken in for questioning by Officer Silver Sable, when Captain Shining Armor finally got a chance to speak to her.

“Captain Armor? Inky Quills from the Gazette is on the line,” Officer Windstorm said.

“Tell him I passed away,” he replied before he entered the interrogation room.

The door closed behind him and he sat down at the table across from Gilda.

Brow furrowed, Shining Armor stared unblinking at Gilda who, with a look of irritation, slammed her handcuffed fists down on the table and shouted, “What?”

“Just what were you thinking?” he asked. “Were you even thinking at all?”

Silver Sable, who had been standing in the corner since she brought Gilda in, said, “We should put you in lockdown for the night! Maybe that would do you some good, because that’s what happens to bitches that pull knives on people who don’t have a crime boss like Spike Zenith backing them up! We toss them in jail!”

Gilda leaned forward and asked, “You know what really burns me up, dweebs?Yes, I did pull a knife on somebody. And you know what? You never asked me why. Maybe someone attacked me or tried to harm me. You never asked. I pulled a knife because this insult to retardation was attacking Spike Zenith for no reason. Guy just went up to him and got right in his face! And nobody was doing anything about it. Nobody! Not you, not the other people on the sidewalk, no one. And this idiot was going to keep harassing Spike unless someone stopped it. So I stopped it. You look me right in the eye and you tell me that I did the wrong thing. You tell me, pigs! And I would do it again in a second! So you might as well lock me up and throw away the key! My one phone call will be to Spike Zenith, attorney at law.”

From the other side of the two-way mirror, Shining Armor’s subordinates saw the look on the Captain’s face. They could see that he was weighing his options. For a moment, Shining was at a loss. Spike Zenith and Zenith Industries were the police department’s sole benefactor, they couldn’t risk going up against the one man who gave them the funding that they needed.

If her one phone call was going to be to the very same guy she was protecting, she would make bail no question.

So they had no choice but to let Gilda go.

“She was protecting him from whale huggers?” Valkyrie asked.

“They’ve been bugging Spike for weeks,” Windstorm replied.

“Why don’t we just shoot ‘em?” Valkyrie asked.

Spearhead chuckled. “I’ve been tempted. Boy, do they stink! ‘I am a whale, an endangered mammal. Hug me!’”

“Okay, blubber head, but you can’t be a whale unless you have a spout!” Windstorm said.

And they all had a good laugh.

That afternoon, Rainbow Dash joined her band mates on the outdoor stage for practice. Guitar in hand, she plugged into an amplifier and approached the microphone.

Pinkie clacked her drumsticks together over her head, shouted, “One... two... three!” and they rocked out to “Awesome As I Want To Be!” as Headmistress Amore watched them, smiling.

“Hold on,” Sunset said. “My guitar’s out of tune.”

“Trust me, Van Halen, it’s not the guitar,” Dash told her.

“At least I can keep the beat,” Sunset replied.

“Well, Pinkie Pie doesn’t even know which song we’re practicing!” Rarity argued.

“I go where the music takes me,” Pinkie answered.

“Come on, girls! Tryouts for the open house’s talent competition are tomorrow. Can we please try and get through one song?” Fluttershy asked them.

“Your folks are the only ones who have heard us play and Granny Smith made us soundproof the barn,” Applejack said. “We stink.”

“You stink!” Rainbow Dash retorted. “I carry all five of your no-talent butts!”

“It might’ve been your idea to start this band, but it isn’t just your band, ya know,” Applejack reminded her.

“Applejack, you play bass in the background,” Dash countered. “It’s a miracle anyone even notices you exist.”

“Perhaps we should take a short break,” Rarity suggested.

“Argh! All right. Take five!” Dash shouted.

As they went their separate ways, Sunset Shimmer and Pinkie Pie watched as Snips and Snails set up Trixie’s props for her own act for the talent competition. Suddenly, she appeared in a puff of smoke, wearing a blue silk sequin leotard, fishnet stockings, a black tuxedo jacket with matching cape, and a blue top hat.

“Voilà! The Great and Powerful Trixie is here!” she announced. “This magic show is going to be the greatest thing New Canterlot City has ever seen! This is my year. I can feel it. This year’s grand prize is going to be mine!”

“Prize?” Sunset asked.

“Oh, yes,” Trixie replied. “We’re competing for a lovely grand prize. Pinkie, tell Sunset Shimmer what she could win.”

“Yes, it’s a beautiful bicycle featuring deluxe saddles for increased comfort, low step-through frame, and a really loud horn,” Pinkie Pie said, pulling a magazine from her hair. “Furnished by the Regal Catalog. Chicoltgo, Illineighs, 60609.”

“You really wanna win this thing, huh?” Sunset asked Trixie.

“More than I want air to breathe!” she exclaimed.

Ever since the seventh grade, when she learned that her great-grandfather was the great Harry Hoofdini, Trixie had wanted to be a magician. Unfortunately, her magic acts tended to go awry. The worst one that had happened was when her magical handcuffs failed to open. Lately, she had been working on her card tricks, namely one where she could tell the future with them.

“The three of diamonds,” she told Pinkie. “That means you’re going to be rich.”

Juniper Montage, who was passing by, walked over and decided to try the trick.

“Okay, fourth card from the top is yours,” Trixie said as she shuffled and dealt them. “Ace of spades... that’s the Death card.”

“Yeah, right,” Juniper grunted as she shuffled this time and Trixie cut the deck again. “I can see it now. Cars, cash, big houses, boats...”

“Death,” Trixie said, showing the ace of spades again. “That’s twice in a row... ta-da?”

“How very underwhelming,” Rarity yawned.

“If you want a crowd pleaser, cut someone in half!” Rainbow Dash added.

As Juniper Montage stormed off, Trixie began to prepare for a more dangerous magic trick, one previously pulled off by Hoofdini. She dragged out an old steamer trunk that was behind the stage curtain, reached into the trunk, pulled out an egg timer and a straightjacket—just like the ones used in the old mental hospitals—and asked Snips and Snails to help her into it.

“That’s it, nice and tight,” Trixie said as they tied the straightjacket.

“You gonna ask us to stick swords in the box?” Snips asked.

“No, too easy,” Trixie replied. “Now, will you kindly assist me into the trunk?”

Snips did as he was told and helped her into her steamer trunk.

“Thank you. Now, Snails, you will close the lid and lock it,” she instructed. “Once the lid is locked, Snips, you will set the timer for ten seconds. And when the timer goes off, I shall appear at the side of the stage. Prepare to be amazed!”

Trixie bent down so that she fit inside the trunk, then Snails closed the lid and locked it, and Snips started the countdown. From outside the box, the group could hear Trixie grunting, struggling with the straightjacket. The timer dinged, a cloud of smoke exploded from inside the trunk and the grunting stopped. But when the smoke cleared and everyone looked off to the sides of the stage, Trixie wasn’t there.

“Trixie?” they called out when she failed to appear.

“Reset the timer!”

And the group slowly turned back to the trunk... where Trixie’s voice had come from.

As all this was going on, Spike had made his way over to the New Canterlot University’s student union building after Greta the Griffon had briefed him on one of the city’s gang’s activities there.

“Every year, New Canterlot U has a cultural day where all the different clubs will do stuff like set up booths, pass out pamphlets, give away couscous, whatever,” she had said. “Anyway, some of Legerdemain’s people are gonna be there to do recruiting for the Raven Cartel. If you hurry up you can take all those assholes out.”

Spike knew all about the University’s open house that weekend... he also knew about Legerdemain and his Ravens.

Legerdemain was backed by the largest drug cartel out of Coltombia in South Equestria. That, combined with the fact that he had survived no less than a dozen drive-by shootings, made him scary... He was also the only one stupid enough to try to muscle in on Boss Wolf.

While Spike was on the lookout for potential recruiters, his eyes and ears picked out Headmistress Amore talking to police Sergeant Spearhead and his partner, Officer Windstorm.

Spike’s hearing was very enhanced, far better at picking up sound than human ears.

“I really wish we could tell you more, Headmistress Amore,” Windstorm told Cadence. “But the perpetrator escaped before we could even slap the cuffs on him.”

“He was ranting on and on about the trophies like a madman, though,” Spearhead added.

“Vandals,” Cadence sighed. “From now on, I’ll be storing the trophies somewhere safe.”

As Spike stepped backward into the bushes, he turned and stared at the brick building behind him, and quietly transformed into his dragon form. Then he placed his clawed hands on the wall one after the other, and started to scale the side of the building with ease, his scaly fingertips sticking to the surface as he made his way up.

The Equestrian Dagon climbed up the side of the University’s main building and across Dean Parenthesis’ balcony. He hopped over the side of the balcony and watched through the windows as Parenthesis entered his office. Then Parenthesis fell off his chair when he spotted something outside. He got up, but saw that the balcony was clear, and when he ran out onto it, he looked straight down into the empty street and courtyard below. Out of sight, the Equestrian Dragon braced himself in a window beneath Parenthesis’ balcony.

Leaving the door open, Parenthesis went back inside and the Equestrian Dragon continued to scale carefully along the side of the building, and then snuck into Headmistress Amore’s office next door through the open window. He climbed inside, cut through the power cord to security camera with his claw, and the camera’s red light went out.

Then he began to look around her office.

The first thing he noticed was a make-up container on the desk.

“What’s this doing here?” the Dragon asked himself aloud.

“Obviously, it belongs to Cadence,” he thought... at first. Then he thought, “No. She didn’t have any make-up on at Club Pegasus’ opening the other night. And if you don’t wear make-up to an event like that you definitely don’t wear it while you’re working, especially not in a school... maybe confiscated from one of the students...”

Suddenly, he heard Headmistress Amore’s voice coming from outside her office door.

“Rest assured, Parenthesis, the trophies are safe,” she told him as she and the Dean entered her office. “The next--and only--people to get their hands on them will be the winners of the talent show.”

Still in his Equestrian Dragon form, Spike clung to the ceiling and noticed a bit of perspiration trickling along his snout, ready to drop... and it did... right into the Dean’s cup.

Cadence’s ears picked up the sound of the drop of Equestrian Dragon sweat landing in the coffee and she said, “I wouldn’t drink that. You may not like the flavor.”

“Miss Amore, relax,” Parenthesis replied.

As he sipped his coffee, Cadence gagged.

“Interesting brew,” Parenthesis said. “Is this Prench roast?”

“Scolttish, I think,” Cadence replied.

As Parenthesis turned and walked out, Cadence raised her eyes to the ceiling. She looked around the room then headed for her open window. She leaned over her balcony, looking down, and then up, only to find nothing.

The Equestrian Dragon was nowhere to be seen.

He was long gone.

Back outside, Amethyst Star continued to oversee the preparations for the open house, going over her clipboard with a list of booths, rides, even artist raffles. Her leadership skills and calming presence had given her plenty of experience defusing tense situations.

Moon Dancer led the choir, boys and girls, in singing a rendition of the Hallelujah Chorus from “Handel’s Messiah” while Daisy, Lily and Rose watered the plants and flowers. Cherry Berry raked leaves, Lemon Hearts and Twinkleshine put up decorations, Ditzy “Derpy” Doo helped Golden Harvest and Berryshine hang a banner, and Sugarberry dipped brushes into buckets of green and blue paint and proceeded to paint the proscenium arch of the stage, the columns at its sides, and the decorative molding at the top.

“How’s this?” Golden Harvest asked about the banner.

“Yeah, I think it looks good,” Amethyst Star smiled in reply.

“Okay then, here’s the next one,” said Ditzy.

“Keep up the good work,” Amethyst Star told them. “I wonder how the other girls are doing,” she thought out loud.

That’s when she noticed Spike selling tickets for his company’s barbecue and job fair... only five bucks.

“I’ll see you later, girls,” he said.

After he’d left to fulfill his duties, Fluttershy turned to Rainbow Dash and asked, “You’re going, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, well, I thought I’d check it out,” Dash admitted. “I don’t have the same issue you do and I want to see what Zenith Industries has to offer.”

“Well, frankly, I am shocked,” Zappityhoof said at Fluttershy. “I can’t believe you would even consider going to a barbecue, and after totally wrecking everyone’s lunch hour! Wouldn’t it be hypocritical to take part in that when you’re so anti-meat? What about your principles?”

A few short yards away, Pinkie Pie, who was now wearing a cheerleading leotard made entirely of pink sequins so tight it made her booty look like a pink mirror ball at a discothèque, was practiced her baton twirling. She twirled it with amazing speed... until she threw the baton up into the air and it landed on Zappityhoof’s head, which sent her running.

“Whoa! I’ve never seen Pinkie drop her baton before. She’s a pro,” Rainbow Dash thought. “But sometimes she’s a real klutz.”

Pinkie started sniffing the air. Then she asked, “Was Spike just here again? Oh, I missed the big ‘D’?”

“You can smell him?” Rarity asked.

“I can do many things,” Pinkie replied.

“I dig Spike Zenith!” Golden Harvest said.

“I love Spike Zenith!” Ditzy swooned.

“I worship Spike Zenith!” Berryshine sighed.

“He’s brave,” said Rose.

“He’s fearless,” added Daisy.

“He can do anything!” Lily exclaimed.

Then Juniper Montage shouted, “He’s just some guy!”

And they all replied, “He is not just ‘some guy’! Spike Zenith is my hero!”

Rolling her eyes at them, Juniper Montage decided to see what the other classes had come up with. The first-year students had converted the auditorium into a planetarium where couples could hold hands and get lovey-dovey in the dark.

“What the Tartarus is this supposed to be?” she demanded.

“I thought it was a great idea,” Twist said.

“This is the exact opposite of what we’re going for!” Juniper told them. “You were to put together a wholesome planetarium that welcomes people! These extra ‘props’ are not needed!”

The third-year students had decided on a haunted house. There had been some dispute about doing a “haunted café” staffed by zombies, but since the second-years were already doing a café, they stuck with the original choice.

“I thought I said boys aren’t allowed to dress up like monsters,” Juniper Montage stated.

“Why the Tartarus not?!” Hoops demanded.

“Because last year, some idiot chose to latch onto one of the girls and refused to let go of her!” Juniper shouted.

“We’d never do that!” Dumb-Bell replied.

“We look super scary, though, right?” Parasol asked.

“I hope I didn’t frighten you too much,” Sea Swirl said. “But I spent weeks studying horror movies just to get into character for this... and I didn’t want to do a second-rate job.”

“I swear...” Juniper grumbled.

The next group she checked on was Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo, who were running a café while wearing adorable meido costumes.

Since their “debate” earlier that day, the second-year boys never complained, which Juniper Montage thought was suspicious, even more so now that they were all skipping class.

She couldn’t imagine them just giving up, at least not without a fight.

“Are you sure it was okay for you to just choose for them like that?” Scootaloo asked. “I mean, will they be all right? They looked pretty mad when you said they couldn’t use their idea.”

“It had to be done,” Juniper Montage replied. “If I hadn’t, your class would have been unable to participate. They’ll get over it.”

“We just want to work with the boys to make sure everyone has a good time at the open house,” Apple Bloom said.

“That’s what’s important,” Sweetie Belle added.

“Don’t worry,” Juniper practically promised them. “I’m sure it will be a fun festival.”

She returned to the outdoor stage hoping to find Trixie still working on her routine, but she was nowhere to be seen.

“Is everything all right?” she asked Sunset Shimmer.

“We’re fine,” she answered.

“Where’s Trixie?”

Behind the curtain, the other girls heard what was being said. Then Sunset Shimmer joined them saying, “She won’t talk to anyone other than Fluttershy or Applejack.”

“That’s because she knows they’ll squeal,” Rainbow Dash replied.

“Do you really have so little faith in me?” Fluttershy asked.

“Yes!” Dash and Sunset replied.

“So don’t tell her, stupid,” Dash added.

“We didn’t do anything,” Fluttershy said.

“She’s locked in a box,” Dash said. “Who do you think she’s gonna blame?”

But Juniper had already forced her way backstage, demanding to know where Trixie was.

“I’ll give you three guesses,” Rainbow Dash told her.

Shaking her head, she walked right up to the locked trunk and asked, “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Trixie replied (from inside the box).

“She told us to put her in there,” Snips stated defensively.

“They are speaking the truth,” Trixie said. “They are completely innocent... this time.”

“If we get the trunk high enough and drop it, it’ll break open,” Snails thought aloud.

“Gang, we’re in some kind of trouble,” Applejack said, looking at the truck. “These are reinforced polycarbonate Equestrian butt hinges.”

“This is why I hate people,” Juniper growled. “You think you can do whatever you want to others, regardless of whether they hate it or not.”

“How prejudiced,” Rarity commented.

By this time, Headmistress Amore had joined them.

“There’s no need to yell, Miss Montage,” Cadence told her. “Juniper, if you treat and regard others like they are your enemies, don’t you think that they’ll be antagonistic toward you as well?” she asked.

“I don’t care!” Juniper shouted. “I hate them, so them being ‘antagonistic’ is fine by me!”

“Well, okay, then,” Cadence replied. “I’m just saying you should be careful, or soon, you may find that you have dug yourself into a deep hole with no way out... and no one to help you.”

Unknown to Headmistress Amore and the rest of the school, many of the male students were having their own, secret, meeting on the other side of the gymnasium. They were not going to let Juniper Montage boss them around anymore.

“This is perfect,” Shady Daze whispered.

“I know, right?” Rumble replied. “We should have done this in the first place. Everyone suited up and ready to go?”

“Sir, yes, sir!” they shouted in reply.

“This is what we’ve all worked so hard for!” Rumble stated.

“Pistachio even sewed our costumes by hand!” Featherweight said, showing them his classmate’s bandages fingers.

It was obvious that he was not used to making his own clothes, especially so many.

Suddenly, they snapped to attention when they saw that Spike was among them.

“So... which of these is mine?” he asked.

“You mean you’ll do it with us?” the boys asked.

“Now we can’t possibly lose,” Rumble said.

The boys each contributed a piece of their samurai costumes—bits of armor, leggings, large spaulders for the arms, a chestplate—until they had assembled a whole suit of armor, complete with a katana sheathed on his left hip.

“Is this it?” Tender Taps asked.

“Spike, it’s you!” Rumble stated.

“We have a winner!” Snips exclaimed.

“The sword may be a fake, but he looks the real deal,” Snails added.

“So, I’ll have to wear one of these too, right?” Spike asked about the helmet.

“No! No way!” they all protested.

“Someone, find something that suits him! Hurry!” Pistachio exclaimed.

“Thanks, but I think I’ll just wear one of my old uniforms,” he told them.

And the boys cheered, as they felt they had just scored their strongest ally.

Later that night, as Fluttershy was having dinner with her parents and brother—beef brisket and a salad with cucumbers, carrots and Thousand Island dressing—her mother observed that her daughter was not eating.

“Aren’t you hungry?” she asked.

“Yes, but I can’t eat this,” Fluttershy replied.

“It’s one of your favorites,” Posey Shy reminded her.

“Not anymore,” Fluttershy said. “I’m a vegetarian.”

Zephyr Breeze blinked. “Huh? You’re kidding, right? What about protein?”

“There are other ways to get protein, Zephyr,” Fluttershy snapped. “Look it up.”

“Remember when you were six and just ate food that began with the letter ‘C’?” her father, Gentle Breeze, asked. “I think you’re just going through another one of your phases.”

“It’s not a phase! I will no longer be a party to the killing of helpless animals,”

This was the first time she had really defied her parents. She had also started hanging out with some “radical vegans”. They met every Thursday night at seven o’clock. The big difference between vegans and vegetarians was that while vegetarians didn’t eat meat—poultry, fish or seafood—vegans didn’t eat any kind of animal or animal-related products. That included dairy and eggs. They didn’t even eat Jell-O because gelatin was made from cows’ bones.

(The cartilaginous fibers from the bovine ptella structure, which gelatin was extracted from, gave it that fun, bouncy quality.)

“Well, that’s it for today, but before you go, I just want to remind you about our booth at New Canterlot University’s open house this weekend,” Sandalwood had said at their last meeting. “Are you going to go?” he’d asked Fluttershy. “We’ll hand out free samples of meatless hotdogs and burgers. People really love it and it’s a lot of fun.”

“Count me in,” Fluttershy replied.

Elsewhere in the city, Spike was tracking down leads on Legerdemain. After the looking for recruiters at the preparations for NCU’s open house turned out to be a bust, he decided he try talking to some of the Ravens’ known associates. He approached a vacant basketball court... only to find that it wasn’t completely vacant. A couple of guys had climbed over the padlocked chain link fence to play a little one-on-one. It was a pair he recognized as the Mustard Twins—Dijon and Poupon—brothers, one arrested for petty larceny, the other for fraud; both never convicted... otherwise no criminal record.

“You gonna kick our asses out, too?” Dijon asked.

“Nope,” Spike replied.

“You’re 5-0, aren’t ya?” Poupon asked.

“I’m worse,” Spike answered.

“‘Worse’?” Dijon asked.

“Yeah, right,” Poupon scoffed.

“Big fence to climb over,” Spike said.

“Whatchya want?” Dijon asked.

“To get this lock off the gate... No one should have to hop a fence just to shoot hoops,”

“You got heat to do something about it?” Dijon asked.

“Maybe you do,” Spike replied.

“Maybe we did,”

“It’d be better with lights,” Spike said. “Just one question... Give me the right answer, you have my word this lock will stay off and these lights will come back on. Give me the wrong answer, I can’t help you.”

“Get outta here, Fed!” Dijon spat.

Poupon pulled his brother aside and asked, “Whatcha doin’, bro?”

“He’s a narc, man. He’s trying to get us to say Legerdemain’s dealin’,”

“So tell the cop what he wants to hear if it gets us our lights back,”

Dijon paused, thought about it, and then nodded. But when he and Poupon turned around, they saw that Spike had already hopped the fence and was standing right behind them.

“You want the question?” he asked them.

“I know the question,” Dijon replied. “You ain’t gonna like the answer.”

“I will if it’s the truth,” Spike countered.

“We could lie,” Poupon said. “How you gonna know?”

“Oh, believe me, I’ll know,” Spike told them.

Finally, Friday morning--the day of the college festival--had arrived. But before New Canterlot University officially opened for its open house, Sunburst, Fleur and Fancy Pants were helping Spike go over the checklist for the Zenith Industries Job Fair and Barbecue.

“Hard apple cider...?” Sunburst asked.

“Sweetened with sugar and molasses and stirred by the youngest living member of the Apple-Smith Family: Apple Bloom,” Spike smiled.

“Okay. Corn...?”

“Hand-shucked, soaked in butter and served with matching corn-on-the-cob holders,”

“Steaks and burgers...?” Fleur asked.

“Two thousand, grass-fed, all donated by the guys in Building C, propane grilled at 350 degrees for 21 minutes, each flipped three times at seven minute intervals and individually branded with each employee’s initials,” Spike stated proudly.

“Chili...?” Fancy asked.

“Meat-to-bean ratio, one pound of browned pork sausage for every two cans of red AND kidney beans, a quarter cup of chipotle chili powder, one tablespoon of Worchester sauce, a little garlic powder, a dash of oregano and just a pinch of cumin, cooked on low from sundown to sunup,” Spike replied.

“You’re scaring me,” Sunburst commented. “Grilled-cheese sandwiches for the kids...?”

“Equestrian sharp cheddar cheese made with milk from Equestrian cows, homemade bread with a generous dollop of oleo spread, and fired up with our own patented Zenith 2000 Turbo Ignition Switch Blowtorch,” Spike said. “And as for the shish kebabs, alternated meat and vegetables, ESDA choice cube steak, campari tomatoes, pearl onions, green bell peppers and summer squash, lightly dusted with a hint of sage and tarragon.”

After checking the food, Spike checked the decorations.

“Purple and green tapestries with silver trim and fringes, solid gold wine goblet filled with grass from the front lawn of the opposing company’s C.E.O., Filthy Rich; dragon and sea dragon statues in attack position...” he said.

Shortly after that, the employees and their families began to arrive, even a few of the retired former employees.

“Good to see you,” Celestia and Luna greeted them. “Glad you could make it.”

As they began to eat, Spike noticed that Fluttershy’s parents had brought Zephyr Breeze and his girlfriend, Tree Hugger, who said, “I, uh, don’t feel very hungry.”

“Sit down!” Distant Star stated quietly. “If our boss took the time to prepare this food, you can take the time to eat it.”

“Wait a minute. You’re one of the protestors that were in that crowd the other day!” Comet Tail shouted. “And now you’re insulting Mister Zenith, who thoughtfully donated all the food and slaved over this event for days? This isn’t a political demonstration!”

Just then, a faint snarl alerted Spike to the presence of a monster lurking nearby.

It moved with quickness through the garbage, trying to quench its burning hunger.

It stopped, its instincts taking over.

Sensing the kill, it waited until the right moment.

Then it attacked!

It was about to feast, when it spotted even bigger rats.

“No...” Spike thought. “It can’t be. Not that. Please--not the Manticore.”

“Spike, what’s wrong?” Celestia asked as he headed out, toward the parking lot and the University beyond. “Spike?!”

She started to go after him then suddenly stopped.

She had seen him like this before. There wasn’t much she could say.

When Spike became obsessive, she knew that his mind was starting to pull and tug.

She also knew that Spike was the Equestrian Dragon.

He had gone through many trying times.

He was a hero.

He was strong.

Nothing could put him over the edge.

At the same time, there was a huge turnout of visitors at New Canterlot University.

“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, lads and ladettes, it is I, Pinkie Pie, your demigoddess of parties and mistress of merriment!” she announced. “Come one, come all. Step right up to the 27th New Canterlot University Open House Festival! Thrills, chills, unidentified spills... all that and more!”

The people could smell the yummy goodies within: cotton candy, snow cones, caramel apples, peanut brittle, funnel cakes, popcorn, fourteen blueberry pies and other delicious tidbits.

“Yes. So, come on and join in the fun,” Pinkie said. “There’s something here for everyone. You’ll find rhythm and romance, reason and rhyme, something ridiculous and something sublime!”

After Pinkie Pie’s proclamation, Headmistress Cadence stepped forward with a pair of scissors and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, let the Open House Festival begin!”

And she cut the red ribbon to begin the festivities.

There were many different games, including a dunk tank and a ring toss. One of the students, Watermelody, sat in front of an easel and painted portraits while others served food, from catfish to watermelon. There was even a puppet show.

Near the center of the school’s carnival, eight men lined up at a kissing booth with Rarity and Sweetcream Scoops at the front, but all the men stood in Sweetcream’s line.

Rarity sulked as she watched Sweetcream kiss a boy, and he gave her a dollar.

Sweetcream excused herself, saying she needed to touch up her red lipstick, and Rarity watched her go as she left the booth then she strut over to take her place.

“Roll up. Roll up!” Pinkie barked. “Get your very own kiss from Rarity, only one buck.”

“Make that all the kisses you want,” Rarity told Spike when she saw him. “No charge.”

“In. Your. Dreams,” he stated in retort.

Six minutes later, inside the University’s main building, Juniper Montage was checking on the second year students. When she found them, they were dressed in various male military garb... with Spike, in his old formal Air Force uniform, leading them out.

“What the Tartarus is this?!” she demanded.

“The boys were more interested in my company’s job fair-slash-barbecue, so I offered to personally escort them to it,” Spike explained.

“Stay away from me!” she snapped.

“Careful or I’ll see up your skirt,” he said. “Besides, kicking is in poor taste.”

“All of you... in the hallway. Now,” Juniper Montage stated.

The boys had never seen her so livid.

She hadn’t been this pissed off since she was still working as her uncle’s assistant and she shoved that Prench extra off a cliff... into a lake that was sixty feet below.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” Juniper demanded.

“We wanted to enjoy the festival, too!” Snips replied.

“We even listened to the girls’ opinions,” Snails added.

“There are other ways to enjoy it, aren’t there?” she scolded them. “Why don’t you make yourselves useful instead of carrying on like a bunch of idiots?!” she shouted.

There was maybe one second of silence before Rumble looked Juniper straight in the face and said, “Fuck. You.”

Juniper staggered backward in shock at his words.

“Do you honestly believe we’ll do anything you say when you order us around with that bitchy attitude?” he went on.

“It doesn’t matter what we say or do,” Snips put in. “She never listens, anyway.”

“After all, she’s nothing but a man-hater,” Snails added. “Right?”

“Let’s go,” Featherweight said at last.

As they turned and were led away by Spike, Juniper remembered Headmistress Amore’s words to her a few short days ago:

“Still, that being said, they make a fair point. Couldn’t you at least listen to the guys a little more andtry to take their opinions into consideration?”

“I’m just saying you should be careful, or soon, you may find that you have dug yourself into a deep hole with no way out... and no one to help you.”

She realized that Cadence was right.

“It’s my fault that things came to this,” Juniper said quietly. Then she called after them, “Wait a minute. Please, wait!”

They stopped, only to glare when they turned their heads to look at her.

“Please help me,” she said humbly.

She was begging.

Rumble said, “You had your chance.” And he and the boys continued to follow Spike, leaving their female classmates to run the cosplay coffee shop alone.

At that precise moment, back outside, Rarity was puckered up for the next person in line.

“It’s me, stupid!” said Rainbow Dash.

“Holy what the Tartarus?!” Rarity exclaimed. “Why are you here? I don’t want my first kiss for Spike to be with you!”

“Quit yelling! I didn’t even do anything!” Rainbow Dash shouted.

“I’m sorry,” Rarity apologized. “I just didn’t want to fall into a situation where I would have to start calling you my girlfriend.”

“That doesn’t even make sense,”

“So, start talking, girlfriend. Where’s Spike?”

“Don’t call me that,” Dash stated. “I couldn’t find him anywhere.”

“What? Where did he go?”

Once he saw the boys safely to the Zenith Industries Job Fair and Barbecue, Spike doubled back to New Canterlot University. As the Equestrian Dragon, he ran on all fours across the city’s rooftops, leaping across the gaps between them. Now, from a roof overlooking the University’s outdoor stage, he scanned the area, looking for anything other than humans.

An audience stood as Headmistress Amore, Dean Parenthesis and one other professor sat at a judges’ table before the stage, while Lemon Hearts operated a video camera, and they all watched as the curtain parted to reveal Pinkie Pie.

“I’m sure you have seen every old card trick. But this magician is beyond that old shtick,” she began as a fanfare played. “I’d like to present someone who will totally, completely, exactly, thoroughly, entirely, indescribably, wholly enrapture you!”

“My, what a buildup,” Rarity said, unimpressively.

“Behold... the magic of the Great and Powerful Trixie!” Pinkie exclaimed.

On cue, Trixie made her entrance via appearing in a puff of smoke.

She delighted her audience by starting with some classic sleight-of-hand illusions: shooting fire from her fingertips then pulling a small bouquet of flowers out of her hat.

“Not bad,” Sunset Shimmer admitted.

“Thank you. Thank you,” Trixie said. “For my next trick, I shall make something disappear before your very eyes.”

She pulled a red silk handkerchief out from her jacket pocket and caused it to change colors—from red to yellow and back to red again—by simply passing it through her empty hand before making the handkerchief vanish without a trace. Unfortunately, only one person clapped while another coughed.

“That’s fake as a three-dollar bill!” one guy shouted.

“We know you use mirrors or something!” the woman who was with him added.

“A nonbeliever and its bitch,” Trixie replied. “She we convert them?”

The crowd turned to look at the rude couple, thinking that Trixie was going to cast a spell on them so that they would switch bodies and/or brains, but all she did was cause them to magically switch clothes, at which the audience laughed.

“And now, as I prepare for my next trick, a little amazing magic music... Maestro?” she asked the student body orchestra, which began to play a drum roll. “Ladies and gentlemen, to conclude the performance of this great show, the Great and Powerful Trixie, that’s me, shall perform something you will absolutely refuse to believe!”

Trixie directed everyone’s attention to the stage’s curtains behind her, and they watched in awe as the curtains rose to reveal a monster that had a vaguely humanoid head, the body of a lion, and the wings of a bat! A bristling mane stretched down the creature’s back, and its long scorpion tail ended in a cluster of 24 deadly points like porcupine quills, which could impale targets even at impressive range.

“Oh, marshmallow,” Pinkie swore.

“What in the Tartarus is that?” Rainbow Dash exclaimed.

It was a Manticore!

A monster in every sense of the word, manticores were fierce killers that hunted far and wide, and they worked together to take down particularly large or dangerous creatures—hunting as a pack often had the advantage of greater numbers—sharing the meal once a kill was made. They served wicked masters that treated them well and provided regular prey, like providing aerial support for an orc horde or a hobgoblin army. Another could serve as a hunting companion for a hill giant chief, or guard the entrance to a lamia’s lair.

Yet despite possessing a malevolent nature and the ability to converse, manticores weren’t particularly bright. In the course of attacking, they denigrated their foes and offered to kill them swiftly if they begged for their lives. If a manticore saw an advantage to be gained by sparing a creature’s life, it did, asking for a tribute or sacrifice equal to its loss of food. Indeed, this one was big, mean-looking and hungry; and as a man-eater, they left no remains... not even bones or clothing. Their greatest territorial rivals included chimeras, griffons and wyverns. In addition to these creatures, manticores feared dragons and avoided them.

The manticore inhaled deeply and roared, causing several members of the audience to gasp and others to run away, screaming in fear.

“Don’t worry,” Trixie told them. “Everything is under control.”

The manticore looked as though it was about to go on a rampage when a large, scaly creature of purple and green flew down from up on high and attacked the manticore with a strength which staggered the beast’s mind, and a savagery far beyond that of any wild animal!

“So the tales of the Equestrian Dragon are true...” Fluttershy breathed.

“Dragon! Dragon! Oh, dragon! Big dragon!” Pinkie cried. “Big dragon! Teeth! Teeth! So many teeth! Ooh! Ooh! Big teeth! Big teeth! Rows and rows and rows of teeth!”

And Juniper Montage, who had just happened to be passing by as the show was going on, ran up to the judges’ table, shouting, “Magical creatures! There are magical creatures onstage!”

“It is a magic show,” Dean Parenthesis said.

“I mean real magical creatures!” she kept shouting. “Living, breathing-- fire-breathing, for that matter!”

“Oh, don’t be absurd,” Cadence told her. “It’s all smoke and mirrors, pyrotechnics.”

“Pyrotechnics, my eyes!” Juniper Montage cursed. “It’s real, and I’ll prove it!”

Meanwhile, at the police station across town, Greta and Gabby had paid Gilda’s bail and had left the building when Officer Windstorm’s voice came across the police radio.

“Windstorm calling Silver Sable, come in Silver Sable,” she said.

“This is Sable, go ahead,” she replied.

“The Equestrian Dragon was just sighted at New Canterlot University. Thought you’d be interested,” Windstorm stated.

“I want my squad there, backed by S.W.A.T. and the choppers, and as many other uniformed officers as you can get!” she ordered. “You’re mine now, Dragon!”

The manticore roared again as it bounded from building to building and began its attack with a volley of tail spikes. Since it was outdoors and outnumbered, it used its wings to stay aloft, attacking the Equestrian Dragon from a distance with its tail spikes until they were almost completely depleted, and then it landed back on the outdoor stage.

The Equestrian Dragon grunted as he landed in front of the manticore, cracked his knuckles and said, “Come on, take a piece of me.”

The manticore snarled as it charged and began to use its claws and bite. Hooking one of his front claws under the manticore, the Equestrian Dragon heaved it away from the crowd. He didn’t want to kill the monster, but he didn’t want anyone else to get hurt either. As the manticore pounced on the Dragon, his right wing whacked a nearby tree and he hissed out a curse. Out of patience at this point, the Equestrian Dragon gripped the other monster’s tail then his clawed foot stomped on manticore’s back and it made contact with the other creature’s spine.

“Stay down,” the Dragon growled.

Out of the corner of his eye, the Equestrian Dragon saw Juniper Montage running straight toward them. Using its one remaining tail spike, the manticore flung it at the scaffolding above the stage. It tore through the fire curtain and a rope connected to one of the sandbags, both of which fell. And when the Equestrian Dragon tried to knock Juniper Montage back with his own tail, he got hit by the falling sandbag. The people all screamed as the Dragon slammed to the ground in front of the stage and, after succumbing to the pain, fell unconscious.

“Dragon down!” Pinkie exclaimed.

Worried, Fluttershy rushed to the Equestrian Dragon’s side—instead of running or fainting as Rarity just had—and cried, “Wake up. Come on, wake up. Oh, please, wake up!”

Juniper Montage pounced on the manticore’s tail and the creature spun. It whipped Juniper Montage off and she landed on one of the nearby tents, which collapsed beneath her.

Having dealt with her, the manticore sprung to its feet and advanced on the crowd, and Pinkie Pie stumbled back, screaming, “I’m too young to die! I don’t even taste good! I eat too much cake! Everyone always tells me how unappetizing I am!”

While the manticore was distracted by Pinkie, Rainbow Dash grabbed one of the blueberry pies from one of the food stands, gagged, and then hurled it at the monster.

The pie hit the manticore in the head and she shouted, “Your mother was a panther and your breath smells like moldy gooseberries!”

The monster roared at Rainbow Dash’s taunts, its fury increased. As far as monsters went, manticores were incredibly easy to distract. It turned its attention to her, swiping at her, as three huge flying creatures--two brown, one gray--dropped down from the sky to the ground and surrounded the manticore.

“More dragons?” Applejack asked.

“Those aren’t dragons, they’re griffons!” Rainbow Dash shouted.

The three griffons made sure the humans ran to safety before focusing their full attention to the manticore, which reared on its hind legs, turning its onslaught on the griffons. The gray griffon circled the manticore overhead, practically pinning it to the ground so that it couldn’t fly away, while the two brown griffons pelted it with rocks and food from the stalls surrounding them, their speed and agility equal to the manticore’s own.

As the gray griffon glanced at Fluttershy, who was still standing close by, the manticore swiped the young griffon to the ground. Then the manticore ran at Fluttershy who, instead of trying to forcibly subdue it, stepped into the manticore’s path and held out her hand. But the monster didn’t slow down. In fact, it did the exact opposite. The gray griffon covered her eyes as the manticore’s powerful legs propelled it forward... then it suddenly halted.

The air fell quiet as Fluttershy and the manticore stared at each other, and the three griffons looked at them in confusion.

The manticore purred as it offered Fluttershy its paw, and she saw something stuck in it.

“That’s a good kitty,” Fluttershy said after she pulled the thorn out.

While they were all sidetracked, the Equestrian Dragon came to and slithered away, completely out of sight, into the shadows, and shifted back into human form.

Suddenly, the air became filled with a noise completely unlike the manticore’s purring.

“What’s that?” Applejack asked.

“It sounds like helicopter blades,” Pinkie said.

“Well, it’s not the Eye Witness News Team,” Sunset Shimmer commented.

The people panicked as a police helicopter hovered close to—and opened fire on—the manticore just as Trixie struck a dramatic pose and chanted, “Abbigo airee agee attomb!”

Then, as the manticore launched itself back into the air, knocking the helicopter into a spin, the beast and the three griffons vanished in a poof of smoke, and the crowds gasped and then cheered.

“Awesome!” Rainbow Dash shouted as people threw money and roses at Trixie, who blew kisses to them.

It was obvious who had this talent show locked up.

“No contest,” Headmistress Cadence said. “The Great and Powerful Trixie wins!”

As she presented Trixie with the trophy, Applejack, Sunset Shimmer, Fluttershy, Pinkie Pie, Rainbow Dash and Rarity gathered outside the University’s main gate.

“Did you see what I saw?” Sunset Shimmer asked.

“Yeah, I saw it,” Dash replied. “And I’m going back to find out what it was.”

“We can’t. It’s gone!” Pinkie Pie exclaimed.

Police officers swarmed the University’s grounds as paramedics saw to any wounded, but the manticore, the three griffons and the Equestrian Dragon were nowhere to be seen.

They had all vanished without a trace!

Meanwhile, Juniper Montage, who had finally forced her way out of the collapsed tent, approached Lemon Hearts and shouted, “Tell me you got that on tape!”

“I did!” she replied. “The camera was running the whole time.”

Juniper tore the video camera from Lemon Hearts’ hands and hit the rewind button, but when she played it back... nothing but static.

It had been erased.

“But-- but how?” Juniper Montage asked.

“Perhaps I can help,” Spike said as he, Gilda, Greta and Gabby stepped forward, out of the shadows. “I am a trained and licensed medical practitioner.”

“You’re a doctor?” Ditzy Doo asked.

It was true. In addition to owning a multitrillion-dollar corporation, Spike just happened to be a Ph.D. from Buckeley.

“Yes, I am a doctor, and I’m afraid I must tell you that all I saw was this fire curtain fall. It must have been loose. I’m sorry, but there are no such things as monsters or dragons. I suspect that between the combination of lights and the dark, coupled with the long day you’ve just had, you didn’t quite see what you thought you saw. It could have been a rare type of fatigue-induced group hypnosis... I’d recommend cutting back on the caffeine as well,”

Fuming, Juniper Montage stalked up to him and asked, in a surprisingly controlled voice, “What kind of fool do you take me for?”

“Don’t know,” Ditzy replied for him. “How many kinds are there?”

After staring Juniper Montage down, Spike joined the emergency responders.

He asked the girls if they were okay, and Fluttershy said, “Oh, Spike, I loved that dragon. Those eyes, there was something very familiar about them, as if I had seen them before... it was like I already knew him. It was so real. It made me believe he really exists.”

“He does exist, Fluttershy,” Spike told her. “Up here,” He pointed to her head. “And in here,” he said, pointing to her heart.

Back in the courtyard, Juniper opened the camera to get a closer look at the videotape.

Then she noticed something on the side of the video camera.

A small, round device that looked like the rest of the camera, but it wasn’t.

It was an electromagnet.

Before being put on tape, video was little more than a magnetic recording, and the electromagnet rearranged all the low magnetic sequencing that created the image.

Juniper Montage heaved a colossal sigh. “They can’t tell me what I’ve seen, because only I know what I’ve seen!”

Spike, Gabby, Gilda and Greta walked back to Zenith Industries as the City’s Finest and the EMTs did their jobs and eventually dispersed. Spike would be sore for the next few days, but he hadn’t suffered any permanent damage. Fortunately, the University was able to close out their open house with the Rainbooms playing under a fireworks display.

Things didn’t work out so well afterward, though. The open house weekend had been an all but complete waste. In the end, New Canterlot University’s female-to-male student body ratio went from a 70/30 split to 80 percent female and 20 percent male.

Later that night, Mr. Pink entered a club in a dark alley in Manechester, Connecticolt. He hated clubs, especially this club. It was a jarring combination of pretentious snobbery and weird techno shit—like a millionaire nerd had got bored and decided to build a place where he could hang out with the cool kids. Normally, he wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like this, but it was one of the only safe (and neutral) places to meet with bounty hunters. There weren’t many of his kind in a mostly human city like Manechester, a place smack dab in the middle of the New Trotland wilderness.

Pink sat on a fake leather stool at the bar and spoke to the man that was already there.

“He’s there... in New Canterlot. One second they weren’t listening to a word I said but as soon as I mentioned his name... they couldn’t hear enough,” Pink said as he lit a cigarette. “And suddenly they got very interested in who you were. So I laid the story down nice and thick.”

“How thick?” the bounty hunter asked.

“Pretty thick,” Pink replied. “I told them you were the biggest guy I’d ever seen... Okay, so I blew it out of proportion a little, but they bought it. If they aren’t shitting bricks by now, they will be soon,” he promised.

“Where do I go?”

“The Main Street Bar & Grill would be a good place to start. Just don’t turn it into another massacre like last time,”

“That wasn’t my fault. They started it,”

“Of course, whatever,” said Pink. “Just remember, Grogar is the one you want. He has plenty of underlings, but without them, he’s as good as dead. So try to save your bullets.”

“Suddenly... you’re my only friend,”

“Well, I do feel some responsibility for you,” Pink said. “Just one question: What happens when Grogar’s dead?”

“When Grogar’s dead... it’s over. He’s the last one,”

“End of payback, an eye for an eye... Are you finally going to be satisfied?”

“Yes,”

“I hope so, because I don’t have the stomach for this anymore,”

“You never did,”

Once More... With Feeling

It was a bright and sunny Monday morning as Sextant—a man who became a bazillionaire selling gooey fast-food products but lost sight of everything important to him, including his relationships with his friends, and was now Filthy Rich’s accountant—sat before a group of IRS agents who were accusing his employer of filing false returns on his taxes.

“Tax fraud?” he asked. “Oh, no, this is a miscalculation, a misunderstanding, I’d even go so far as to say that it was bad judgment, really bad judgment, but certainly not tax fraud.”

“We will be meeting with you and your boss at his office tomorrow morning at ten o’clock. Otherwise, warrants will be issued. Property gets attached and seized, everything gets very ugly... and you don’t want ugly, do you?”

“No, sir, I don’t,” Sextant replied.

It was 0619 hours when the Equestrian Dragon woke up that very same day.

He peered at his surroundings, and blew out a sigh, followed by steam, smoke, and fire.

“Thanks be to the Almighty, the Great I Am,” he thought. “I’m still in my cave. It smelled right, but I wasna certain. How long did I sleep?”

As he transformed back into his human form, Spike made his way to the surface, the words of his father echoing in his ears: “What’s done is done. We can’t change what happened. We can only move forward. No one must find out what you are. You know how persistent humans can be, completely dedicated. You are the chosen one. It will all work out. Everyone has a past they can work from. Trust me.”

After putting on a single-breasted dark gray suit and a black cashmere V-neck shirt (no tie required), Spike entered the main kitchen in Pendragon Castle, toasted a single piece of white bread with his fire breath and ate it.

Then he saw the morning paper: “College Open House Spreads Hate and Violence”.

“Police and campus officials are still trying to sort out exactly what took place near the student union as New Canterlot University’s ‘Open House Day’ turned deadly when the Equestrian Dragon descended upon the festivities in a rain of fire. Witnesses say it’s possible the Dragon was after drug dealers working for Legerdemain, but the resulting chaos claimed the lives of both gang members and students alike. A candlelight vigil is scheduled to be held outside the student union later this week.”

Spike hadn’t spoken to Fleur since the manticore’s attack at the University, and Fancy Pants had suggested that a visit to Zenith Industries might be in order... if nothing else but to make sure nothing untoward had happened there. But until 8:00 a.m., the Zenith Industries Towers were totally locked down—the only way in would be using a secret elevator hidden in the underground parking garage. Of course, that wasn’t a problem.

Taking his silver Series 1 roadster, Spike drove to New Canterlot City, into the Zenith Industries’ underground parking lot, parked in his reserved space—clearly marked “Don’t Even Think About It”—entered the secret elevator, and pressed the button for the top floor.

When he exited the elevator, Fleur de Lis was surprised at his arrival.

“Good morning, Monsieur Moneybags,” she greeted him. “I didn’t think you would be coming in today. Is something wrong?”

“Morning, Fleur,” Spike replied. He suddenly stopped and asked, “You smell that? That’s diesel fumes. That’s a turbo diesel, sixteen speeds, Tatum axle... that’s a delivery truck.”

“You can smell all that?” Fleur asked.

Instead of his usual, “You’re damn right I can,” Spike didn’t reply.

“Hey, why the long face? You must be worth your weight in gold. Cheer up!” she said.

“Any messages for Equestria’s most eligible?” Spike asked.

“No, but there is someone here to see you,” she replied.

“Who is it?” he inquired.

Just then, police officer Windstorm exited the public elevator, accompanied by two men. They both wore black uniforms which had more than just a passing nod to Third Reich tailoring.

“The Army,” Fleur said.

Spike recognized the insignia on the military officers’ caps and shoulders, but he knew only the younger of the two men by name: Cutter. He was a 28-year-old Captain when Spike first met him. He was 37 and a Major now, and one of the best officers serving in the Equestrian States Armed Forces and the Military Crime Investigative Service.

MCIS, as it was more commonly known, was a worldwide federal law enforcement organization whose mission was to protect and serve the Equestrian States Armed Forces and their families. But in order to counter the ever-evolving threats around the world, the MCIS had implemented a new, proactive strategic plan which emphasized the following priorities:

1: Prevent terrorism and related hostile acts against Equestria’s forces and installations.

2: Protect Equestrian systems and information against compromise.

3: Reduce criminal activity and mitigate its impact on military operational readiness.

Outside of that list, everything else was classified... and they were led by an arrogant, square-jawed ex-paratrooper named General Hackmane.

“Am I under arrest, General?” Spike asked.

“Mr. Zenith, we need to talk,” Hackmane said.

Spike nodded to Fleur, who returned the gesture. Then she led them into her office and closed the doors behind them.

“Word’s all over the capitol by now,” Hackmane began. “So the logical conclusion is that military and government information is leaking to our enemies from the area around here.”

“In the middle of Equestria?” Officer Windstorm asked. “That’s impossible.”

“Don’t contradict me,” Hackmane admonished her.

“I am inclined to agree with the General’s conclusion,” Major Cutter said.

“Again, it’s impossible,” Windstorm repeated.

“Don’t contradict him, either,” Hackmane told her. “In fact, don’t contradict anybody without permission from me.”

“Yes, sir,” Windstorm replied as they continued with the meeting.

“Mr. Zenith, ever since you came back to New Canterlot, strange things have been happening,” Cutter explained as he directed their attention to a local area map pinned up on the wall. “Our intelligence people have an agent planted here in the city. He reports to us through certain channels that there is a flow of information from this area. Here, a government supply train was robbed and then exploded. Here, an army tank was stolen. And here, a whole ammunition depot was blown up. Every mark on this map... an unsolved act of sabotage in the last six months--six months--all in a circle around this point!”

Officer Windstorm gulped when she took a closer look at the map... and she saw what was in the center of that circle.

“Major,” she said, “your finger is on New Canterlot City.”

“And my finger is on you, Zenith,” General Hackmane said.

“You were also the only one of us not present when the Equestrian Dragon attacked the University last Friday, making you a person of interest,” Major Cutter added.

“Just what are you implying?” Spike asked them.

“I am implying nothing,” Hackmane replied. “I am stating the fact that strange things keep happening. Government supply trains are robbed of their contents and then blown up, a tank suddenly appears in this city, blows up a few buildings, and then is returned to us... from a locked box my cigars vanish!”

Unfortunately for Spike, trying to pin down the source of the sensitive information leaks was not the only reason the MCIS was in New Canterlot City. Major Cutter had telephoned Spike over the weekend, shortly after the body of an Army lieutenant who vanished in the spring of 1994, four years prior—along with a million bucks in gold and precious jewels—was discovered in the Everfree Forest.

A deer hunter stumbled across what appeared to be a sarcophagus with the body inside it. At first, he thought it was an unexploded bomb or missile, until he tapped the side of it. Fortunately for him, it was hollow. He cleared some of the leaves away and opened the top, that’s when he saw the body. It was in remarkable condition; it appeared almost mummified. The container was airtight, creating a hermetic environment, which meant nothing could get inside it: no air, no bugs, no animals and no bacteria. Dog tags confirmed the victim’s identity as one Lieutenant Tone. The cause of death was massive internal hemorrhaging. That kind of bleeding could only have occurred when he was still alive, which meant that he not only bled to death, but he was murdered and then stuffed into the case that preserved him until he was found.

To make a long story short, Hackmane and his staff had reopened the investigation.

They had already pulled Tone’s service record: he was reported MIA near the end of a six-month deployment overseas. The lieutenant was believed to have absconded with the stolen military funds. He was declared a deserter and received a dishonorable discharge after being charged “in absentia with theft of government property” for allegedly deserting his position.

But the treasure was nowhere to be found.

General Hackmane believed that Tone stole the money; it was clear that he was going to stand by that. But if Tone had stolen the gold and jewels, he didn’t do it alone. Whoever took the treasure murdered him for it, and that meant he was either killed by an accomplice or killed catching the real thief in the act.

Major Cutter had spent three hours sorting through squadron records to locate the former members of Tone’s old unit: Lt. Commander Worth, Lieutenant Bronze “Lynch” Tan, a Mexicolt pilot named Maretinez, and the pilot’s Radar Intercept Officer, Lieutenant Mark Wiles.

Lt. Commander Worth had been killed in a ramp strike two years before; Hackmane had crossed him off the list of accomplices. And Cutter had already talked to Wiles, whose story checked out. But just because the Army cleared him didn’t mean they trusted him. He managed a skeet shooting range, he rented a house, he drove a car that was six-years-old and he had a child that went to public school.

“You think I would live like that if I had a million bucks lying around?” he’d asked.

It turned out Wiles had married Tone’s widow. After almost five years, she had Tone presumed dead. Finding his body had ended the vicious gossip and rumors that he had started a new life with the money and a new woman. Of course, the widow didn’t receive death benefits or child support because of his dishonorable discharge.

Back in ’94, Maretinez filed a TFOA (Things Falling Off Aircraft) report--squadrons had kept files on those going all the way back to the first biplanes--but he was found murdered in a hotel room in Mexicolt. And as for Bronze Tan, she was a hottie who had enlisted to catch an officer. She didn’t marry money, and she sure as Tartarus didn’t come from money either.

Cutter had tracked her down to New Canterlot City. That’s why they were there.

She was the only suspect left on their list—the only other one that was still alive—and they were wondering if she was Tone’s murderer. They were closing in on her.

“Well, if Tone stole that money, General, where is it?” Spike asked.

“We searched everywhere for him and the money,” Hackmane answered.

“How long did you search?” Spike inquired.

“Two days,” Cutter stated.

“Who searched, was it finders keepers?” Spike asked. “Frankly, I am curious how you manage to claim you searched every inch of a 95,000 ton, 24-story tall, 1,049 foot-long aircraft carrier in 48 hours,” he said. “If you’re going to accuse me of being responsible for any of this, do it already! This beating around the bush routine is insulting to me and it’s insulting to you.”

General Hackmane grimaced in disgust at Spike’s insolence.

“You didn’t search every inch,” Spike went on. “So, as far as you know, that money could still be there.”

“It could be, but it isn’t,” Cutter replied in earnest.

“Another assumption, Major, or do you know this as fact?” Spike asked.

“We are going to get to the bottom of this,” General Hackmane said at last.

“With your permission, sir,” the Major began, to which the General nodded. “General Hackmane has evolved what I consider to be a simple, yet brilliant plan.”

“So do I,” Officer Windstorm replied.

“You haven’t heard it yet,” Hackmane said.

“Yes, sir, I haven’t heard it yet,”

“We will plant military information at New Canterlot City,” Major Cutter explained.

“False information, of course,” General Hackmane added. “False but so tempting that the culprit, whoever it might be, can’t pass it up.”

“If someone, anyone acts on it, we can then be sure that the leak is somehow coming from this city,” Cutter stated.

“You will very carefully put out the information we give you,” Hackmane instructed Windstorm. “No one must suspect it is fraudulent. Do you think you can do it properly?”

“Of course, sir,” she replied.

“Now, it is my turn to contradict you,” Hackmane said, doubtfully.

He then began to explain how he intended to capture the Equestrian Dragon—by leading him into a trap at “the only strategic target in the area the Equestrian Dragon had not hit yet”—with Spike’s help, they were hoping.

“No time,” Spike said. “I’ve got to deal with a paper jam on level four and level six, then I’ve got to go inspect my new automobile and helicopter factories, plan a new line of action figures, and put a down payment on Europone.”

“After we finish questioning you and your people, Mr. Zenith,” Hackmane snapped in reply. “Your social life will have to wait.”

“Hackmane, it’s late, and so am I,” Spike stated.

“I don’t take orders from you,” Hackmane said.

“And I don’t take orders from you, either,” Spike countered. “But you will follow this order.” He looked over at Fleur, who was standing close to the telephone on her desk, and said, “Miss de Lis, call Chancellor Neighsay... direct.”

“Well, that’s not fair,” Windstorm commented.

“Neither is convicting a man to cover up a sloppy investigation!” Spike stated. “Losing someone you love is bad enough, but being accused of a crime without proof... that’s worse.”

When Hackmane attempted to argue, Spike abruptly ended their meeting.

“Leave! And do not ‘sir’ me,” Spike told him. “I work for a living.”

Hackmane grumbled as he marched out, whereas Cutter nodded respectfully to Spike before following the General, and Officer Windstorm calmly went after them.

“I didn’t know we had the Chancellor of Equestria on speed dial,” Fleur said to Spike after the two (technically, three) officers left her office.

“We don’t,” Spike replied. “But they didn’t know that.”

Fleur smiled and asked, “Do you know Major Cutter?”

“Yep,” he answered.

“I thought you would. Even though he’s considerably younger than you are,”

“What do you consider ‘considerably’?” Spike inquired.

“Just how old are you?” she asked.

“It doesn’t matter how old I am,” he stated.

“You’re embarrassed to tell me, a woman you met during the days of Emperor Caesar Salad and the Romane Empire, how old you are?” Fleur asked.

Spike shook his head and said, “Not at all.”

“How long did Cutter work for you?”

“He didn’t work for me,” Spike replied. “I worked with him.”

“You two served in the same unit?”

“For five years,”

Fleur could tell from the tone of his voice that Spike genuinely missed the man. Not only was Cutter an amazing agent, he was also an incredible athlete, one of the very few that could keep up with him. Fleur knew Spike was more than just an influential man, he was a cultural icon; the living embodiment of Equestria’s strength and power. His knack for reflecting these qualities back on almost everyone around him was more than enough to draw a devoted circle of admirers. But to Major Cutter, Spike wasn’t just a great officer. He was the squadron’s good luck man, a living lucky charm.

He always seemed to dodge the bullets.

Just last week, a car had run a red light and hit Spike dead on. His collarbone ached for a day, maybe two, but he was fine... other than that, not a scratch. An injured clavicle hurts like Tartarus and took more than a couple of days to heal. So either Spike was taking an extreme amount of painkillers or... there was more to him than met the eye. Of course, if anyone in the Equestrian military knew the truth about Spike, they didn’t tell.

Semper Fi. Always faithful.In other words, “You rat, you fry.”

As he stepped outside and walked through the above ground parking lot, towards his staff car, Hackmane felt that Spike should never have brought the Chancellor into this.

Spike was hiding something, but Hackmane wasn’t sure what.

“Talking to me like I’m a cadet, who the Tartarus does he think he is?” he muttered angrily. “Cutter, I said we are going to get to the bottom of this, and I meant it.”

“Yes, sir,” Cutter said emphatically.

“This turn of events is unfortunate,” Hackmane admitted. “We must accelerate our plan.”

“Sir, do you honestly suspect Zenith of treason?” Cutter asked.

“Treason? Never. Vanity, always!” the General said as he got in his car and drove away.

He and Cutter would continue to investigate the murder, working with Windstorm and the local police, who would also be tasked with tracking down the missing military funds. As for Spike... he was about to take matters into his own hands.

In the few minutes since they had left his office, Spike had become obsessed with clearing Lieutenant Tone’s name, but more importantly, he was devoted to ensuring the dead soldier’s former wife and young child receive his death benefits.

Before retracing his steps out of Zenith Industries, Spike called Pendragon Castle.

“Need I remind you we are not all creatures of the night?” Fancy Pants, who had just woken up, asked when he answered.

“Fancy, I’m on my way to the golf course. I need you to prepare a few things,”

“Sir, is something wrong?”

“A friend is in trouble,” Spike said, hanging up. “Hold on, Windstorm.”

The New Canterlot City Golf Course (NCCGC) wasn’t a private club... mostly because it was a nine-hole municipal facility, and a single membership cost several hundred bucks.

Major Cutter, eager to make up for his and his superior’s mistakes, had dropped Spike a hint that Maretinez and Bronze Tan may have had something going on with one another. In other words, they were screwing around. It was no coincidence that Maretinez was the pilot on the plane that dropped the pod carrying Tone’s body.

“That low-down, no-good Bronze Tan,” he had said.

“Who?” Spike asked.

“Bronze Tan!”

“Gesundheit,”

“She’s a gold digger! She lied to me!”

“Conned you?”

“Tricked me!”

“Fooled you,”

“Led me for a sap,”

“Made you look like a complete buffoon!”

“Alright, let’s not get bogged down on this point, Commander,” the Major told Spike.

So, with Cutter’s help, the Equestrian Dragon decided to start his own investigation. He arrived at the golf course (still in human form, and in the silver roadster) later that morning to confront Bronze Tan—who he’d learned was living a luxury-filled life—accompanied by Fleur de Lis, who interrupted Spike’s teeing-off by shouting, “Fore!”

“Never do that again!” he stated.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t--”

“It’s an automatic reflex when one is a golfer,” he told her. “Don’t yell when I have a niblick in my hand.”

“‘Niblick’?” she echoed.

“It’s what a nine iron used to be called,” he explained, “when golf was the province of Scolttish nobles, not the democratic ‘lovely walk spoiled’ by the weekend duffer.”

That’s when Spike and Fleur spotted Bronze Tan, exactly the same color as her name, sitting in the shade and sipping a margarita.

“We’ll have to split up. Take these,” Spike said, giving Fleur the keys to the roadster and a red carnation to wear. “We’ll meet later. Recognition code: knock three times and recite bippity-boppity-boo. Got it?”

“Got it,” Fleur replied. She approached Tan’s table and began with, “Who are you?”

“You’ve never heard of Bronze Tan? The fastest, strongest, smartest, most politically correct woman south of Liberal?” the other woman asked.

“Should I have?” Fleur countered, almost in retort.

After several minutes of chatting, Fleur lowered her voice, appearing to confide in Bronze Tan, and she casually mentioned the MCIS and how their presence had the whole town stirred up. Bronze Tan tried to act nonchalant, but Fleur noticed that the other woman looked uncomfortable. Bronze Tan finished off her drink, and then, after claiming that she had to use the ladies’ room, took the opportunity to quietly slip away... only to be confronted by Officer Windstorm, who had come to the golf course to check out her own lead in the investigation.

“That Windstorm is one femme courageuse,” Fleur said as the officer pursued Bronze Tan through the clubhouse.

“If by ‘brave woman’ you mean feisty and bold, yup, that’s her,” Spike replied.

“Freeze!” Windstorm shouted. “Hands where I can see ‘em! Turn around slowly!”

“You are making a big mistake, Officer,” Bronze Tan replied.

“She’s right,” Spike told Windstorm. “She’s more dangerous than she looks.”

“Look out!” Fleur shouted.

Bronze Tan grabbed Windstorm, taking the police officer’s weapon, and shot a warning shot at Spike and Fleur, who quickly ducked behind a corner.

As Bronze Tan left the clubhouse, holding the officer at gunpoint, Spike whispered, “Eye of the Dragon,” and shifted his sight to scan the area. His dragon vision was better to pierce the darkness and tricky lighting than his human eyes. Between that and the tracking device Windstorm had on her uniform—all the police officers had them—he kept his gaze upon them as they went through the parking lot outside.

Fortunately for Spike, the golf course had no security system, nor was anyone else looking after the first gunshot, so he didn’t have to worry about anybody seeing him transform. Once he became the Equestrian Dragon again, he exited the clubhouse and chased Bronze Tan into the parking lot. She was still using Officer Windstorm as a human shield.

“Let her go,” the Equestrian Dragon growled.

“How did you find me?” Bronze Tan demanded.

“I know that you murdered Lieutenant Tone,” the Dragon said bluntly.

Bronze Tan protested vehemently, pointing out that there was no proof.

“You also killed Maretinez because you didn’t want to share the wealth,” he added.

“There’s nothing wrong with living out a fantasy, especially when I can make it a reality,” she remarked.

Losing patience, the Equestrian Dragon got straight to the point.

“Someone had to move his body without being seen,” he went on. “Not an easy thing to do on a base filled with six thousand souls. So, how did you do it? I’m thinking you and Maretinez stuffed him into a mail sack and then dragged him in plain sight. But if that’s true, how come nobody noticed? You used to turn a lot of heads whenever you walked by. Who would have noticed someone dragging a mail bag with you walking by?”

“Look, maybe we can work something out?” Bronze Tan said. “I have a lot of money.”

“Stolen from the deaths of others!” the Equestrian Dragon roared. “Major Cutter saw the Lieutenant’s gold wedding band, he talked to his widow. She has a nine-year-old daughter, and she’s as pretty as her mother. You stole that money, set Tone up to take the fall, murdered him and cheated his wife and daughter out of the death benefits they deserve! You can tell it any way you want, but I will take you down. A Dragon doesn’t forget, nor get rid of, anything.”

The shocked Officer Windstorm was almost beyond words as the Dragon snarled at Bronze Tan and said, in a very icy voice, “I’ll give you a sporting chance.Run.”

In a desperate attempt to escape, Bronze Tan shoved Officer Windstorm toward the Equestrian Dragon and made a beeline for her red convertible. The Equestrian Dragon spat a fireball at the car, causing the fuel in its engine and gas tank to ignite and explode.

His anger having gone into overdrive, the Equestrian Dragon leapt at Bronze Tan. He tackled her, disarmed her, and pinned her to the ground, ready to melt her face off. But instead, he just used one of his claws to press down on her throat, suffocating her into submission while Officer Windstorm radioed for backup and he took off just before it arrived.

“I don’t know what’s dumber,” Windstorm said as she handcuffed Bronze Tan after the other woman had regained consciousness, “a criminal who breaks the law... or a criminal who breaks the law and believes that the police are as dumb as she is.”

“You all right, partner?” Sergeant Spearhead asked.

“Batting .500,” she replied. “While one monster almost killed me... one saved me.”

A short time later, Spike was in the library at New Canterlot University, where he found Moon Dancer, sitting on the floor, barefoot, cushion propped under her slender legs, thin arms, surrounded by books, one open and on her lap... as he always did.

“So fast,” Spike thought as he watched her eyes while her pale hands flipped through the pages. “That’s a genius for you.”

He gazed at the words in the book and his eyes widened.

The pages were printed in Prench! She was studying another language.

He said, “Excusez-moi.”

Moon Dancer stopped reading, looked up at him and smiled.

“Eh bien, quelle agréable surprise,” she began. “Bonjour, Spike. Comment vas-tu?”

He was surprised.

As well as unworldly, she was oddly friendly to him.

She tugged the hem of her short skirt down as she repositioned herself on the cushion.

“Vous parlez Français?” he asked. “Moi, je parle un peu Français.”

“J’ai habité à Paris un an,” she replied.

“Paris--la Ville Lumière, c’est le pays L’amour,”

“Bien sur,”

“C’est bien que je vous aie rencontree, parce que je n’ai pas eu la chance de pratiquer,”

“Su te veux, nous pouvons pratiquer beaucoup de choses ensemble,” she said. “Mon amour. Tu auras toujours une place dans mon cœur.”

“You speak beautifully,” he told her.

“So do you,” she replied as she got up and walked over to a nearby table, where she had left her lunchbox.

Spike asked, “What’s the matter?”

“To be honest, I had a feeling you might come and join me for lunch instead of going to the Café, so I made enough for two,” she replied.

“But what if I hadn’t come?” he asked.

“I didn’t think about that,” she said as she offered him a pork cutlet sandwich. “But it doesn’t matter. You came.”

The big difference between pork tenderloin and wiener schnitzel was that the former was made exclusively using pork loin and was deep fried instead of pan fried... and was typically served with fries, which she had made.

“You can have some more,” Moon Dancer said. “Spike, I also baked you some cookies--to thank you for fixing my front door.”

She also presented him with a stack of ginger snaps, carefully enclosed in a delicate white wrapping paper tied at the top by a ribbon. She knew he loved ginger snaps.

“Thank you,” he said.

“Here. If you like, take the rest. I’ve got plenty,” she said, handing him the whole bag.

“Are you sure? Well, thanks, Moon Dancer,”

Just saying that lit up her face. She seemed really happy.

At the same time, Rainbow Dash, Sunset Shimmer, Pinkie Pie, Applejack, Fluttershy and Rarity were trying to decide on their own lunches in the University’s cafeteria.

“I officially give up,” Dash said. “What is it?”

“Jockeypanese, Moroccoltan, Coltcuttan...” Sunset Shimmer listed them off.

“Dash only eats plain food,” Pinkie replied. “You know, like burgers and pizza.”

“Come on, Rainbow Dash, live a little,” Sunset said. “You can’t go through life ordering through a clown’s head.”

“Oh, yeah?” she asked. Dash turned to Pinkie Pie, opened the party girl’s mouth with her hands, and shouted into it, “Cook some food!”

And she and Pinkie had a good laugh together.

“But seriously, what would you recommend?” Dash asked Pinkie.

“It all looks so good,” she replied. “We’ll take an order of everything with a side of everything else... my treat.”

“Eh, what the hay? I ain’t paying for it,” Dash said with a shrug.

“That’s my girl,” Pinkie smiled. “Hey, Cookie, you think you could splash some yellow paint on that, and a couple of red wagon wheels?” she inquired about the Sloppy Joe.

“Just try and stop me,” he replied.

“Wonderific!” Pinkie said as she loaded up her tray. “I’ll have one of these, two of these, two of those, four of these, twelve of those...”

She helped herself to soup and stew, pizza, lasagna, lamb, veal, chop suey, tacos, knockwurst, pastrami on rye, chocolate pie and tapioca pudding and she helped Fluttershy finish off the last of those delicious tarts left over from their dinner the night before.

Meanwhile, Dash had four onion rings and four big raviolis.

“So, what do you all feel like doing tonight?” Sunset asked them.

“Perhaps a nice walk in the forest,” Fluttershy suggested.

“Been there,” Rainbow Dash replied.

“How about a game of cards?” Applejack asked.

“Done that,” Dash said. “What I’d really like is a dad who lets me borrow his Ponyrsche. But we don’t always get what we want.”

“Like a certain someone who thinks she can figure out who the Equestrian Dragon is?” Sunset Shimmer asked.

“You might think my theories about the Equestrian Dragon are crazy, but you watch, I’ll prove you wrong,” Pinkie said.

As they ate, Rarity (who had seen Spike walking into the library earlier) couldn’t help but wonder how Spike felt about Moon Dancer.

“So, obviously he will chase any female wearing a skirt,” she thought out loud. “But, I mean, Moon Dancer? What is with that? You don’t think he like-likes her, do you?”

“Seriously? I had no idea you were such a wuss, Rarity,” Rainbow Dash said. “Did you ever think that maybe she’s just a friend? All they did was have lunch together.”

“You didn’t see him with her. It was a big love-fest in there... She baked him cookies!”

“So? That doesn’t necessarily mean she’s his girlfriend!” Dash replied. “Spike’s not the kind of guy who just forces himself on every woman in sight, you know.”

“It’s kind of sad that there’s absolutely no way to argue with her,” Rarity thought.

After the girls finished their meal, they saw Spike walking down the hall with a beautiful, busty young woman with glasses and long, red hair.

“That girl?” Dash asked. “Wow. She is cute,” she admitted.

Then they heard Moon Dancer ask, “How about tonight?”

“Then it’s settled,” Spike replied. “You’ll come to my house.”

“Sounds like a plan,” she said. “See you later.”

“His place?! Tonight?! What?!” Rarity exclaimed.

This caused the girls to ponder the current predicament while Rarity had reduced herself to drowning her sorrows with soda.

“I just don’t get it! You know what? I don’t care who Spike spends his time with!”

“Look, there’s no way she can be his girlfriend,” said Dash. “If she was, he would have told us about her before he invited us over for dinner.”

“Then what should I do?” Rarity asked.

“We’re going back to Pendragon Castle. Tonight,” Sunset Shimmer stated. “You want to know the truth, don’t you?”

“I don’t think I could handle the truth,” Rarity replied, scared. “I mean, are you sure about this? Just marching into his home uninvited? What if something happens? We might get into a huge fight.”

“Fine then, we won’t go. Just let her have Spike,” Dash told her. “We’re gonna be right there with you! Now, let’s go!”

Later that night, the six girls arrived at Pendragon Castle and saw that Spike—along with Celestia, Luna, Fancy Pants and Fleur—had prepared a barbecue for Moon Dancer... as well as Minuette, Lemon Hearts and Twinkleshine.

“Thanks for having us,” Minuette said.

“Another round of hot cocoa on Spike!” Lemon Hearts exclaimed.

Applejack, Fluttershy, Pinkie Pie, Rainbow Dash, Rarity and Sunset Shimmer all started drooling... then their stomachs growled, which Spike heard.

“Someone must be starving out there...” he started to say. But when he saw the girls standing outside the steel fence, he asked, “What’re you doing here?”

“Drop the act,” Pinkie said, deathly serious. “We know you’re the Equestrian Dragon.”

The other girls, and everyone inside the yard, all gasped and stared at her with wide eyes.

“Gotcha!” she said. “You, the Dragon! That’s funny!”

Pinkie’s laughter was like music to Spike’s ears... even though no one was laughing at what she had just said.

“If you think that’s funny, I’d hate to see what your idea of hilarious is,” Rarity said.

“Well, did you ever notice how you never see Spike and the Equestrian Dragon in the same place at the same time?” Pinkie asked.

“What an odd and completely random thing to say,” Rarity replied. “I mean, a lot of people have never been in the same place as the Equestrian Dragon. We haven’t.”

“It was just an observation,” Pinkie said. “Excuse me for living.”

“Believe us, if anyone here had anything to do with the Equestrian Dragon we would be the first to know about it,” Luna told them.

Celestia smiled as she invited them in to join the cookout while Moon Dancer went inside, and Spike was shocked when he saw Major Cutter pull up in General Hackmane’s staff car... without Hackmane. Instead, he was accompanied by Sergeant Spearhead and Officer Windstorm, and they were all in civilian clothing.

“Cutter?” Spike asked. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, my flight to Pearl Harbor’s not till 9:00 in the morning. And since I’m here, I thought that...” The Major’s voice started to trail off. “Well, I could not be in New Canterlot City and not see my former C.O., and after what you did for my daughter--”

“Cutter, please, those would-be kidnappers had it coming,” Spike said, and he ushered the three officers in.

“You know, in all the time I’ve known Mr. Zenith, he’s never shaken my hand once,” Spearhead said.

“We were in the same unit three years before he even looked me in the eye,” Cutter shared. “Four years before he called me by name... He must really like you.”

After dinner, as Fleur and Fancy Pants worked to clear the dishes, the rich aroma of spiced apple pie filled the air. Moon Dancer had returned carrying a large, round dish covered by a simple white cloth, and she pulled it off to reveal that it was an apple pie.

“I made it for the first time,” she told them. “I know it won’t taste as good as the ones Buttercup Smith used to make, but...”

Applejack was surprised to hear her mother’s name mentioned, especially by Moon Dancer of all people. She was even more surprised when Moon Dancer cut the pie into pieces and offered Applejack the very first slice.

Applejack was impressed.

“Wow. This is amazing!” she said. “Did ya really make this for the first time?”

“I used Jonathan apples and brushed the top with a glaze made with apricot jam and rum,” Moon Dancer said.

“I never would have thought of that,” Applejack admitted.

It was delicious. Even Rainbow Dash, who couldn’t stand the thought of pie, stomached a tiny bite from Pinkie’s slice. As they enjoyed the dessert, the girls’ gazes kept straying to Spike and Moon Dancer. They saw how devoted she was to him.

“She’s hooked,” Fluttershy breathed.

“Eeyup,” Applejack agreed. “Like a wide-mouthed bass.”

“Spike,” Moon Dancer said. “I don’t know how to ask this, but I was wondering if you’d mind... if you want to, maybe... you would like to... you and I... maybe we... What time did you want to come over on Saturday to help me put up my bookshelves?”

“Well, is nine o’clock too early for you?” he asked.

“No, that’s perfect!”

All the other girls stared in shock as Moon Dancer quickly averted her eyes. They were even more surprised when she lost her balance and almost fell to the ground with Spike’s arm around her waist, but he quickly helped her to her feet.

“Nice catch, Spike!” Minuette exclaimed.

Applejack, Sunset, Pinkie, Dash, Fluttershy and Rarity were aghast as Moon Dancer coyly batted her dark eyes at Spike, her red lips smiling softly, and his own shy smile melted into a moony grin.

“Wait. She’s never even told Spike how she feels?” Rainbow Dash asked.

“It’s been close to ten years,” Celestia said. “There’s nothing going on between them. It would be too awkward, they’re practically family.”

“Well, Spike’s not the only dense one around here,” Rarity and Dash both thought.

As Dash refilled her drink, she couldn’t help but say, “Almost a whole ten years, huh? Talk about devotion.”

“Who cares how long he’s known her?” Rarity spat. “That doesn’t mean anything. Plus, I’m so much prettier than her. She’s a nerd!”

“She’s a very modest, hot nerd,” Sunset Shimmer corrected her. “Plus she cooks and she’s known him for practically a decade. On top of that, her boobs are, like, ridiculously huge, and you’re a B-cup who brags about her pretty looks and relies on her sexual charms.”

“Shut up! I do not do that!”

“I don’t think Spike even knows Moon Dancer likes him,” Fluttershy said honestly.

“And it’s not like he’s grossed out by her,” Applejack added. “If she told him how she felt, would they start dating?”

Rarity groaned as an image of Spike and Moon Dancer cuddling popped into her head.

“This sucks so much,” she said. “Do men really only go out with any woman as long as she has big breasts?”

“Now, Rarity, don’t judge Spike too harshly,” Pinkie told her. “After all, he really does care about each of us very much.”

Thankfully, the other guests didn’t hear any of what they had said. Frankly, they were more focused on Officer Windstorm, who dreamily stared off into the pink sunset, which slowly turned orange as it went down behind the beautiful rolling hills.

“What’s the matter with her?” Rarity inquired.

“Post-traumatic stress caused by her encounter with Bronze Tan?” Spike guessed.

“No, sir, it’s much worse than that,” Spearhead replied. “She glimpsed him for only a moment, and she’s hopelessly in love with him... her unknown savior, the Equestrian Dragon.”

The Main Street Bar & Grill had come under new ownership three times in the same number of months. It was first known as the “Beautiful Soul Bistro”, after that the “New Canterlot Pastry Emporium”... now, it was the Shadowbolts’ hangout, a place where the local lowlifes could just sit and have a beer.

The Shadowbolts were a group of street punks who had either been kicked out or dropped out of Crystal Prep Academy, took the school’s mascot as their own, and worked with the Raven Cartel as dope peddlers. Its three core members consisted of a young woman named Nightshade, and two guys, Descent and Shadow Surprise, and they rode dirt bikes instead of motorcycles.

Suddenly, a well-built man with black hair, wearing a black wide-brimmed hat and black leather overcoat, the high collar of which obscured his jaw line, walked into the establishment.

And he was carrying a black doctor’s bag.

He walked in like he owned the place, approached the bar, but he didn’t say anything.

Then the bartender asked, “You lost? ‘Cuz I ain’t got time for tourists.”

“Me? I’m just a simple doctor in search of a new practice,” the stranger said. “Perhaps you can help me find some work?”

“There’s no work here,” the bartender replied.

“I see. Something to drink, at least?”

“You got something in the bag?”

“Yeah,”

The bartender’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

“A bomb,” the doctor scoffed.

That pissed off the bartender.

Just then, a dagger flew across the room and stuck into a wanted poster adorning a picture of a man known as Doc McColt, a gun for hire who didn’t ask too many questions and always got the job done—the same man who had just walked in.

“I’m not looking for trouble,” he said.

“The only thing you will find tonight is trouble, Doctor,” one of the patrons, Nightshade, said as she ripped the wanted poster off the wall and crumpled it up. “If one of us was to tell the local sentry you’re in town, we could split the reward.”

Another patron, Shadow Surprise, gripping a knife, crept up behind the stranger, McColt, who reached into his black bag, pulled out a gun—and not just any gun, but a Colt Buntline Special, a hand cannon with one of the longest barrels ever conceived—and shot the blade out of Shadow Surprise’s hand.

“Two things you should know about me: I don’t steal from women or children,” McColt stated as he held the gun under his would-be assailant’s chin. “And I do not steal from houses of worship, either!” he added with a growl.

Shadow Surprise (the man that McColt had just disarmed) cleared his throat and said, “Well, the only other game left in town is the Equestrian Dragon.”

“Shh!” the bartender exclaimed. “Are you crazy?”

“The what?” McColt inquired.

Nightshade whispered, “Word is the murderous Equestrian Dragon has gotten his claws on... the Elements of Harmony.”

“Do not talk to me about dragons OR the Elements!” McColt shouted. “Do not even joke about that with me! I wasted half my life searching for both. They. Do. Not. Exist.”

“No. We have seen him,” Descent protested as he rolled up his jacket sleeve, revealing a crude tattoo of the purple dragon of myth. “He is said to have riches without end and the greatest jewel of all: the Dragon’s Eye... a ruby the size of your fist. A job like pulling a heist from a dragon’s hoard could set someone up for ten lifetimes! But only one with a death wish would try to take down a dragon, much less steal from one.”

The only wish McColt had was to repay an old debt.

“This could be my chance,” the Doctor thought.

“Where do I find the Equestrian Dragon?” he asked.

Nightshade shrugged as if to say, “It’s your funeral.”

Then she said, very carefully, “The Dragon lives on the peak of Mount Drago. Not many go up there... and even fewer return.”

Author's Note

Next time: The girls remember the day Spike returned to New Canterlot City and their first impressions of him.

The Apple-Spike Connection

The black four-door Mustang slowly prowled down the puddled road, its headlights shining before it in streaks of yellow-gold. An owl hooted twice from the oak that towered at the edge of the cemetery, took flight, and flapped off into the sky. Leaves blew across the damp pavement as the Mustang pulled up to the gates and stopped.

The front doors opened and two men climbed out. One was stocky, with thick shoulders and an imposing figure, the other tall and grim-faced. The man on the driver’s side stretched and nudged his door shut as the other man carefully scanned the area. The driver moved to the rear door and pulled it open, and a half-smoked cigarette dropped out onto the pavement with a faint sizzle. Then a small, thin man in his early thirties exited the car and stood, pulling on a pair of expensive leather gloves.

“Flash” Sentry—known as Brad Sentry only on his birth certificate and driver’s license—glanced at one of his former band mates now bodyguards and held out his left hand expectantly.

The New Canterlot City cemetery was about as far from Pendragon Castle as one could get and still be within the city limits. As lively as New Canterlot City was at night, that was how dead this place was—at least, that was what Flash Sentry thought when his car entered the cemetery grounds. He had come to the cemetery to pay his respects to an old acquaintance and business associate who had met a tragic end just a few days before at the hands of a vigilante.

Flash felt guilty for missing his friend’s funeral, but it was too dangerous for him to be seen there. Who knew who might have been there to scope out young underworld types like himself; the press, the cops, the Feds, even the Dragon. Better to visit Ragamuffin one-on-one. Nobody snoops on you at two in the morning.

Still, to be on the safe side, Flash had brought his former band mates along for the ride. The big man, Brawny Beats, reached back into the passenger seat and handed his boss a funeral wreath studded with small velvet bows. Flash transferred the wreath to the crook of his right arm and held out his left hand again. This time, Brawny handed Flash a large silver flashlight. Flash clicked the flashlight on and waved it experimentally at the nearest trees.

“You guys wait here,” Flash said as he walked off.

This would only take a minute.

“Yes, sir, Mr. Sentry,” Brawny Beats replied with a vigorous nod.

He and Ringo leaned back against the car and watched as their boss headed off through the big iron gates. The owl hooted again from somewhere inside the cemetery and Brawny Beats’ eyes darted left and right as thunder rolled in the distance.

“They’re sayin’ the Dragon killed this guy,” he said.

“I know,” Ringo replied as he pulled out a cigarette, stuck it in his mouth and struck a match. “Who’d a’ thought.”

Just then a rustling sound came from the bushes just inside the iron fence.

“What was that?”

The two men craned their necks at the line of dark foliage.

“I dunno, but it—oww!”

Ringo shook his hand as the match burned the ends of his fingers. Both match and cigarette dropped to the ground.

“Jeez,” he said.

Inside the cemetery, Flash Sentry followed his flashlight beam along the narrow path.

A yellow moon illuminated the graveyard dotted with stone crosses. There was no sound except the crunching of his shoes on the coarse gravel.

Soon, Flash found the gravestone. The pale beam picked out the newly installed grave with a single dime-store vase of red and white carnations at its base. Flash played the light over the granite monument, stared at it a moment, then looked at the wreath in his hand.

“Tsk, tsk. Ragamuffin, Ragamuffin...” Flash shook his head and heaved a sigh as he tossed the wreath at his former associate’s final resting place. The dark ring sailed through the air like a life preserver and struck the base of the small vase, tipping it over onto its side. Water and carnations spilled onto the grass. “You always were such a loser.”

Then he turned back toward the path that led back to his car.

He had only walked a few steps when he heard something. Not a voice, exactly, but a faint sound that seemed to drift on the wind. He listened. It sounded like... his name.

“Flash...”

Flash stiffened and reached into his coat pocket for his gun.

“Who’s there?”

Startled, Flash spun around, shining his flashlight in a wide arc in the direction of the sound, over the dozens of gravestones littering the field around him. He took several steps backward. His heel hit something solid and he turned to shine the light down on the vase lying near Ragamuffin’s headstone. When he lifted the flashlight again in the direction of the ring of graves, he raised his free hand to his head and scratched his scalp. No one was there—just the owl staring at him through the darkness.

Flash sighed in relief. That last thing he wanted, or needed, was to come face-to-face with the Equestrian Dragon.

He returned to the path, but stopped dead in his tracks when he was confronted by a mist billowing up out of the ground between him and the church. He stared at the roiling cloud, frozen with fear, as it parted before him. A pale flash of movement showed suddenly at its center, as if rising directly from the netherworld. Then a figure appeared within.

The cemetery was poorly lit, and the figure was far away, so Flash couldn’t be sure. But he thought it was the Dragon. As the figure came closer, it seemed to glide on the black cloud that surrounded it. Flash didn’t remember seeing any smoke tailing the Equestrian Dragon, but that didn’t mean he didn’t use it.

A steel-tipped cane swiped through the remainder of the smoke, revealing a ghastly being in a black suit, and it stepped toward Flash Sentry, the flashlight wavering in his grip.

“You aren’t the Dragon!”

Flash wasn’t taking any chances. While the figure was still too far away to do anything about it, Flash pulled out his gun, took careful aim, and fired. His first shot hit the figure dead-on. So did the second shot, and the third, but still it kept coming. Flash emptied all his bullets into the thing—still it came. What was this guy made of?

Flash didn’t have long to wait to get his answer. A moment later he was face-to-face with the strange being. And now he could see that it wasn’t even human. Flash didn’t think it was possible, but this black-suited figure, with a grinning skull-like face, was more frightening than the Dragon ever was. Flash was terrified—and his fear grew when the creature spoke.

“Flash Sentry,” it said in a haunting, unearthly whisper. “I have come for you.”

Flash stepped back as the thing moved forward, as if it were floating on the black mist. He wanted to keep shooting but remembered his gun was empty. Instead, he swung his weapon at the figure. Flash’s attacker lifted an arm, and Flash felt a flash of pain as the gun was torn out of his hand. Flash looked toward the gun on the ground—and saw it had been sliced in half!

“Get away from me, you freak!” Flash shouted, his boyish features contorted in fear. “Who are you? What do you want?”

In response, the figure pointed its cane at Flash. There was a curved, razor-sharp blade, like a scythe, attached to the head of it.

“I am Death,” he said. “And I want you, Flashy-boy.”

As Death raised his scythe-cane over Flash’s head, Flash turned and ran in terror. He raced past Ragamuffin’s headstone, his heavy shoe scattering the carnations, crushing red and white petals into the newly turned earth. His labored breathing broke the stillness of the cemetery as he raced over the sloping lawns, his flashlight beam darting frantically in front of him. His heart pounded in his chest as he mounted an unfamiliar rise.

“Brawny! Ringo! Guys!” he called out.

“Come on!” Brawny Beats shouted.

Flash ran deeper into the cemetery, tripping over tombstones and staggering through gnarled tree branches. He had to put distance between him and the smoke that followed him until he could think of some way to defend himself against his assailant.

Soon he found it—more precisely, he tripped over it. As he fled the grim-faced reaper, down the other side of the hillock, Flash’s knee collided with something hard. He crashed into a wheelbarrow piled with sod and digging implements. As he fell, his flashlight flew out of his hand, into the air, and it shattered when it hit the ground. Flash pitched over onto his side, his arms flailing as he fought for balance, coming down hard against the dirt-filled wheelbarrow. He ended up on his back, the wheelbarrow upside down on the lower half of his body. And even though he knew the flashlight wouldn’t do him any good, Flash groped along the ground in a vain attempt to retrieve it. As he tipped the wheelbarrow back onto its wheel and pushed himself up from the damp grass, his hand brushed against a sturdy wooden handle. He felt along its length, encountering a perpendicular sweep of cold metal. Then, when his eyes finally adjusted to the moonlight, he saw what it was: a pickaxe! Flash crawled to his feet, grabbed the implement, lifted it with a small grunt of satisfaction, and kneeled behind the wheelbarrow, waiting for Death to appear before him.

“Time to pay for your sins, Flash Sentry,” an eerie voice suddenly spoke out.

Flash gulped.

This time the voice came from much closer.

It was coming from directly behind him!

Flash stood perfectly still for a moment, brandishing the pickaxe like a weapon. Then, in one motion, he hefted the pick over his head, whirled around, and charged toward the sound of the voice, but the reaper drifted back into the mist and vanished.

Flash wiped the sweat from his brow as the thing reappeared in the shadow of a grove of tall dark trees with skeletal branches. He sliced through the mist with the pick, but Death was ready for him. As the pickaxe came down, Death raised his right arm, swiped his wicked blade through the air. The metal flashed in the darkness and it connected with the pick, slicing it neatly in half with a crack, just below the blade. Flash staggered back as a sudden jolt traveled up his arms. His eyes bulged as the metal head of the pick sailed through the air and embed itself into the ground in front of a small tombstone, leaving Flash holding only the handle.

Flash looked at the shaft he still gripped in his hands. Out of breath and full of fear, he stiffened when he heard his name again. He lowered the wood, clutching it protectively in front of his chest. And not a moment too soon: Death was in front of him now, coming straight at him, floating on the dark mist. Flash wavered but stood his ground. He was prepared.

“All right, creep. Catch!”

Flash drew his arm back as the apparition neared him... then flung the shaft of wood like a spear with a cry of rage. It made contact with the black-shrouded figure, plunging deep into its chest and out its back. Death raised his ragged arm and pulled the stick out of his torso and threw it to the ground at his feet. Then, his face contorted with rage, Death started to advance on the helpless boy once again.

“What the--?” Flash asked.

Flash turned and stumbled off into the darkness. He ran without looking back, until his heart and lungs could stand no more. He collapsed on his knees at the side of a weathered headstone, trying to catch his breath until a small sound at his back made him look over his shoulder, eyes wide with panic. Death was still coming!

“He was up here!” Brawny Beats shouted.

“Boss! Flash, where are you?” Ringo called out.

“Guys! Hurry!” Flash shouted as he ran deeper and deeper into the cemetery.

He had no flashlight, no gun, no pickaxe; nothing to help him defend himself or escape. He squinted in the moonlight. All around him were gravestones and statues.

He leaned heavily on one of the gravestones, then took a deep breath and pounded up a low hill to his right. He must be nearing the fence. He saw a figure standing near the top of the hill. It was dressed in pale garments, its head turned away from him, and there was no mist billowing around its legs. Was it a caretaker, a gravedigger? Maybe it was one of the boys, come looking for him. Could he be close to the gate? He trudged up the hill, squinting intently at the dim outline. When he was a few feet away he saw it was a huge stone angel, its arms raised in an attitude of prayer.

He took another step forward... and then the ground gave way.

Flash Sentry fell into an eight-foot long rectangular hole, six feet down, and his face slapped against mud when he landed, face down on the patch of wet ground, with a heavy thud. He raised his head, mud dripping from his cheek and brow, and pushed himself to his feet. He was frightened, dazed, the wind knocked out of his heavy body, and then he looked up. On the ground directly above him, the eight-foot-tall marble angel looked down on him, looming pitilessly over the open pit. Flash gasped in horror as he staggered back to the other end of the hole. He’d fallen into an empty, freshly dug grave!

He heard a soft snapping sound and turned to look at the other end of the grave. He reached up, trying to lift himself out, when a cloud of smoke began to billow across the ground above him, over the edge of the opening as he watched, obscuring the night sky. As it dispersed, the tall dark figure with a pale skull for a head became gradually visible, and Flash held his breath as Death appeared at the end of the grave.

“You always were a loser, Flash Sentry,” Death said as he looked down on Flash.

In desperation, Flash turned and stumbled the short distance to the head of the grave, where the statue stood. He reached up and began to claw at the soft loam above his head, trying to grab hold of anything that would help him get out. His fingers pulled clods of earth loose from under the statue’s base, down onto his mud-streaked face, as Flash tried to scramble up the wall.

Flash continued trying to paw his way out of the hole, but it was no use. All he’d succeeded in doing was digging away the dirt at the edge of the grave. He looked back toward Death at the opposite end of the grave, but Death just stood there. Then Flash’s right hand struck the base of the stone angel and he began to sob.

“Farewell, Flash Sentry,” Death’s voice faded as the apparition disappeared into the mist.

Flash turned around to find the far end of the pit empty except for a haze of dispersing mist. He blinked up at the stars for a few seconds, dumbfounded, confused.

“That’s it?” he wondered. “He’s just gonna leave me here?”

Flash Sentry gasped.

He thought he heard another sound, faint, nearby. He looked back and forth between the ends of the trench. Nothing. Maybe the thing had just wanted to frighten him, after all. He leaned his palm against the side of the pit for support as he fished for a handkerchief in his coat and wiped the cold sweat from his forehead. The faint sound came again. He searched the edges of the trench where the apparition had stood, eyes narrowed.

Then Flash noticed something strange. Behind him, a tiny curl of black smoke reappeared next to the towering stone angel and wound itself around the base. A pebble slipped forward and dropped into the grave with a muffled sound as the base tilted slightly. Flash looked over his shoulder as the shadow of the angel crawled up his back. Slowly, the statue began to tilt forward and Flash screamed as he raised his arms in a futile gesture as the angel fell toward him.

And Flash Sentry kissed the angel.

A short time later, Flash’s old band mates finally found their boss. They were able to follow the dark prints his rapid footsteps had left in the dewy grass. After searching through the graveyard for several minutes, a muffled crash sounded, then all was silent, and they came upon a curious sight: a marble angel had fallen face first into an open grave. They mounted the low hill near the heart of the cemetery, looking around anxiously. The stars seemed cold and tiny, and the rim of the dark sky was shrouded with pale clouds.

The footprints led them to the partially filled trench. One of them shined his flashlight into the hole—and that’s when they saw their boss.

“Oh, man!” Brawny Beats said as he turned away in horror.

As Ringo peered downward at the edge of the pit, his flashlight slipped from his nerveless fingers.

“Jeez,” he said.

As they walked back to the car, they saw a flash of movement out of the corner of their eyes. That’s when they spotted a dark, shadowy figure standing atop a far-off hillock, next to a gnarled tree in the moonlight. They lifted their guns and started firing furiously at it.

The shadowy figure stood perfectly still for a second, then turned and disappeared in a cloud of smoke, leaving the two bodyguards to draw one conclusion.

“It’s the Dragon!” Brawny Beats yelled. “It was the damn Dragon!”

The nineteenth-century town house was located not far from Livingston, the once-fashionable section of downtown New Canterlot City now known as the Projects. Because of its proximity to an area where burglary and murder were almost daily occurrences, the windows of the old brownstone were covered with thick bars of wrought iron, making it obvious that whoever owned the place wanted to keep any uninvited visitors out. It also lent a prisonlike air to the somber building, which persisted even in the bright light on the morning following Flash Sentry’s death.

Inside, a single ray of sunlight fell in measured blocks onto the worn arabesques and faded geometries of an ancient Saddle Arabian rug inside the shadowy den that centered the top floor apartment. The room was silent except for the irregular clinking sound caused by metal against porcelain and the equally irregular susurrus of an old man’s breathing.

Timber Spruce sat hunched over in a big comfortable chair that had grown much too large for him. His face was an unhealthy color, the sallow skin pulled parchment-tight across the planes of bone beneath. A plastic tray stood before him on spidery metal legs, and on the tray were his morning cup of pale yellow tea, a bowl containing one half of a small pink grapefruit, and a copy of the New Canterlot Gazette. The painfully thin man stirred the spoon in his tea, took the spoon from the cup, and set it carefully on the saucer. Then he reached for the newspaper as he brought the cup to his pursed lips and sipped at its rim.

Timber Spruce reseated the cup with trembling fingers and turned his attention to the pinkish hemisphere that constituted his breakfast. He maneuvered a slice of the tart fruit onto his spoon and mumbled it past his lips as he unfolded the paper. He blinked in surprise as he scanned the front page... then his blood ran cold.

In the center of the page was a file photograph of a thin-faced young man with warm eyes and a cocky sneer: Brad “Flash” Sentry. Timber Spruce’s eyes grew wide with terror and recognition in their sunken sockets as he read the bold headline above the photo:

SECOND MAN SLAIN!

It couldn’t be!

His eyes darted over the page before focusing on a sketch artist’s charcoal rendering of a dramatic figure shrouded in dark shadows, which appeared next to the second caption:

EQUESTRIAN DRAGON GONE WILD!

The spoonful of grapefruit slipped unnoticed from the man’s skeletal fingers and clattered onto the plastic tray. Then the cup of tea fell from the tray, shattering as it hit the floor. Timber Spruce began to wheeze, bolting out of the chair, clutching at his throat in pain, the newspaper falling to one side as the tray collapsed on the other. His glance darted from window to doorway, his wheezing growing more frantic as he staggered back to the overstuffed chair and leaned on it for support. Clutching his chest with one hand, he felt at the back of the chair with the other, for the cool surface of the oxygen tank resting on the floor. Then, like a man dying of thirst, he dragged it out, fumbling with the plastic mask before he pressed it up against his face to cover his nose and mouth, and took big greedy gulps of the life-giving gas.

Soon the tightness around his chest began to fade. Trembling, exhausted by his exertions, he slumped back into his chair, breathing in spasmodic gasps from his ordeal. His rheumy eyes stared down in horror at the newspaper lying scattered on the rug. The picture of the Equestrian Dragon seemed larger than life. It filled up his field of vision, sending chills down his spine. He kicked it aside and shook his head in despair.

Timber Spruce was a man with a problem.

Councilwoman Vignette Valencia was angry. But her anger was kind of amusing, Captain Shining Armor thought as the young female politician paraded back and forth in front of the captain’s desk at the police department.

“What do you mean you won’t?” Vignette shouted. “I’m sure the Dragon means well, but he’s still a vigilante. And by the definition of law, that makes him a criminal just like the rest. You have to go after him!”

“He didn’t do it. Period,” Shining Armor stated impassively, making Vignette’s histrionics seem all the more out of place.

Several other high-level police officers exchanged glances as they watched the encounter between their boss and his outraged adversary.

“You have two eye-witnesses—” Vignette snatched a double ribbon of polygraph recording paper from the large hands of Sergeant Spearhead, each length attached to an unflattering mug shot of one of Flash Sentry’s henchmen. “—and their lie detector results.” She flung the records down on Armor’s cluttered desktop. “What more do you need?”

Sergeant Spearhead shook his head as Shining Armor rose from behind his desk, his own anger finally beginning to show on his face. He swept the tangle of Dragon-related newspaper clippings and photographs off his desktop and dropped them into the wastebasket with a savage wave of his arm.

“It’s all garbage, Miss Valencia,” he resounded matter-of-factly. “You want him? You get him. There’s no motive, no proof, and I’ll have no part of spending the taxpayers’ money to bring him in.”

The already fuming councilwoman sneered as she jerked the door open and marched out of Shining Armor’s office. The door shut behind her with a resounding slam. The assembled officers flinched, Sergeant Spearhead eyeing the door’s pebbled glass window as if waiting for it to shatter. When it remained intact, he pulled a toothpick from his jacket and stuck it in the corner of his mouth with a sigh.

Officer Silver Sable and two more uniformed policewomen stood waiting in the reception area outside. Vignette Valencia smiled at them as she plucked a small container from the inside pocket of her jacket, confidently popped a small, white breath mint into her mouth and asked softly, “Well, ladies, any ideas?”

Half an hour later, Captain Shining Armor’s Dodge Challenger barreled away from New Canterlot toward the cemetery. On the outskirts of the city, the sleek black car parked outside the grounds where Flash Sentry had met his angel of death for the first and last time.

Strips of yellow police tape cordoned off the scene of Flash Sentry’s demise. The massive statue hung suspended above the trench in a thick bundle of chains attached to a crane.

Along with Sergeant Spearhead, the Captain began by retracing Sentry’s trail from his car to the gravesite. It was a real mystery who was responsible... and not only who, but why.

“Flash Conceptions is a real estate development company,” Shining Armor said. “Could be he was on somebody’s hit list for one of his projects.”

“Maybe,” Sergeant Spearhead replied. “But for the past several years the company’s been dealing primarily with urban development--condo conversions, updating retail space, and the like. This hardly seems like the kind of target anyone would single out.”

“Aside from the shell casings belonging to Sentry’s weapon, no signs of other shooters present,” Shining went on. “Whoever did this didn’t use a gun. They chased him into a hole and used a statue to crush him. That doesn’t sound like business to me... that sounds more personal.”

“You think they’re trying to make a statement?” Spearhead asked.

“Most definitely, but in doing so they’re also creating a pattern,”

Far from the tatters of police tape, out of sight, the Equestrian Dragon had begun his own investigation. He started by surveying the scene of the overturned wheelbarrow. Soon, he stood over the grave of Dick Ragamuffin. He knelt down to feel the ground around the headstone.

“There seems to be some kind of residue on the lawn,” he spoke softly into a portable tape recorder. “It could match the traces I found on the fragment of boat glass at the pier. It’s not much to go on, but then again, it’s been that kind of a day,” he concluded as he clicked off the tape recorder.

While searching around the graveyard for other clues, something caught his eye and he turned his head in surprise, looking at his surroundings as if seeing them from a new angle. The Equestrian Dragon suddenly realized he had wandered into a familiar section of the cemetery. He marched up the short but steep hill, his pace quickening as he realized his destination.

He strode through the grounds, between many granite obelisks of people that had been given rather gruesome deaths—one man executed by firing squad, another torn apart by four wild horses, and one that had been buried alive—until he eventually stood before the marble memorial he had erected in honor of his parents: a large monument with a statue depicting a man and a woman riding a chariot being pulled by two horses rearing up.

The Equestrian Dragon bowed his head respectfully after reading his family’s credo:

“Bidh sinn gu toilichte a’ sgrios an fheadhainn a tha airson ar sgrios.”

“Libenter eos perdimus, qui nos perdere volunt.”

“We gladly destroy those who want to destroy us.”

Not just pretty words... a way to live.

He had visited hundreds of times before, but never in the form he had chose to wage the war on evil that he fought in their (and his fallen allies’) names. He hoped that somehow they could see him standing there and prayed they would be proud of him. He prayed for something else too—and an instant later, his prayers were answered.

“Ya’d think they could afford a weed-eater,” a woman’s voice murmured. “Sorry, Mom, Dad, but the whole world’s goin’ to seed.”

The Equestrian Dragon’s head came up in shock. He took a step back, turned, and peered through the dimness between two other stone markers.

A young woman was standing not far from the monument.

She knelt at a neglected grave, her fists tugging at a clump of stubborn weeds that had sprouted at the base of the headstone.

It was Applejack Smith! He began to step forward—but then stopped himself.

“I’m not Spike Zenith now,” he thought. “I’m the Equestrian Dragon! If she saw me like this... She would hate me. And why shouldn’t she?”

He stepped back, and as he did, his back hind claw crunched a small stick on the ground.

Startled by the sound of the twig snapping, Applejack rose to her feet, the weeds dropping from her fingers. She turned to look over her shoulder and came face-to-face with a man clothed in black, standing in the shadows of a tall, stone angel.

“Spike?” she asked. “What’re ya doin’ here?”

“You would never believe me if I told you,” he answered as he stepped out from the shadows of the monument.

A look of barely controlled anguish was visible on his face.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he apologized as he turned to leave.

“Spike, wait,” she said. “I just wasn’t expectin’ to see anyone out here. Are ya okay?”

“I’m creeping around a cemetery in the middle of the night. Does this strike you as normal behavior?” he asked her.

“Hey... I’m here, too,” she told him. “Seriously, Spike. Why are you out here?”

“Applejack, have you ever felt like your life was supposed to be something different?”

She nodded.

As her fingers traced the names carved into the stone, she and he both remembered the last time they were here together.

New Canterlot City Cemetery, 1988... Ten Years Before.

In a strange way, Spike found the cemetery comforting. After several years of constant travelling abroad, he had recently returned to Equestria. Now he was faced with an endless stream of parties, dinners, and get-togethers that never allowed him a moment’s peace. He knew what he was going to do with the rest of his life. He just wasn’t sure how he was going to do it. And with all the social engagements he’d been subjected to, he doubted he would ever have enough time to himself to figure it out. So he decided to come here whenever he could; to stand before the graves of his fallen allies, pay his respects, and silently ask for their advice.

It was late autumn then, too. Brown and gold leaves blew through the cemetery as Spike stood with a brooding expression on his face before the marble monument that was his parents’ marker. The wind had pushed his collar askew and his dark hair was disheveled. He held a pair of long-stemmed sunflowers in his hand.

As he knelt solemnly to lay them on the manicured grass at the foot of the headstone, he heard a voice nearby.

“That’s right,” it said. “And if Granny gets any more protective, she might as well dig a moat around the farm.”

Spike lifted his head in surprise and turned to see a young woman he once knew--but didn’t recognize--standing among a group of tombstones a short distance away. She was nearly as tall as him, which meant she was close to six feet, she smelled like apples, and her hair was the color of summer wheat. Her back to was to him, and even though there was no one else there, Spike could only conclude that the woman was talking to someone else besides herself.

“She isn’t talking to me,” he thought. “She’s probably talking to someone in her heart.”

Spike nervously stepped closer as she continued.

“It’s time like these I wish you were around to—” She stopped suddenly as the breeze lifted her blonde hair. She was reaching up a hand to smooth it back when Spike’s shadow crept into view on the ground beside her and she turned around to face him. “Yes?” she inquired.

Spike’s eyes widened. Finely arched blonde eyebrows drew together over a straight nose and cheeks dotted by the most beautiful freckles he had ever seen. Her voice was a silky Southern drawl, soft and feminine, and as strong as everything else about her.

“Excuse me,” Spike stammered under her stare. He was struck by her beauty. “I thought you were saying something to me.”

The young woman raised her eyes as if gauging the distance between her and him.

“No,” she answered shortly and abruptly turned away.

“I’m sorry, my mistake,” Spike said uncomfortably.

He stood for an awkward moment, looking at the graceful lines of her back.

He’d obviously interrupted something and figured he’d better leave.

From the corner of her eye, the young blonde woman spotted Spike walking off. A mischievous gleam appeared in her eye. She looked at the gravestone at her feet and smiled.

“Do ya know who that was?” she asked, just loud enough for Spike to hear. “Spike Zenith—ya know, Zenith Industries. I’ve seen him around campus. Very moody. Kinda cute, though. Don’t ya think?”

Spike couldn’t help himself. Again, he stopped to listen. And again, when she looked back over her shoulder, she looked somewhat displeased.

“Yes?” she asked.

“I heard my name,” Spike said. “I thought—who are you talking to?”

The young woman brushed a wisp of hair back from her cheek and answered, “My parents.”

She pointed to the grave at the foot of the tree and Spike looked at the words chiseled upon the stone:

In Loving Memory
Bright Macintosh Smith, July 2, 1942 – February 1, 1984, Devoted Son, Husband, Father
Buttercup Smith, July 3, 1942 – February 1, 1984, Beloved Daughter, Wife, Mother
Gone But Never Forgotten

Spike flushed with embarrassment.

“Oh,” he replied, looking from the marker to the bright-eyed young woman. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“That’s okay,” the young woman said. “They don’t have much to say today.”

It was then that Spike caught the scent of her: sweeter than magnolias. She spoke her mind with a saucy accent, knew what she wanted, and knew how to get it.

She caught his sidelong glance.

“I’m not the only one who talks to their loved ones, ya know,” she said defensively. “It’s just that when I talk to them out loud, I can imagine how they’d reply. I can hear ‘em, like they’re right here. Sometimes I dream I’m at school, waitin’ for my Granny to pick me up. But she doesn’t come. Instead, my parents drive up, and we get in the truck and we drive back to my real life in Ponyville. That’s usually when I wake up. But for a moment, I’m happy... till I realize that I’m still alone.”

Spike understood, all too well.

He looked at the blonde, and he looked at the grave, and then--in his heart--he knew just what her parents would say.

“Your dad thinks you’d be a shoo-in for rodeo queen... and your mom wants you to know that you’re never alone. They are both always looking out for you,”

She smiled at him... then turned and headed for the path.

Spike hesitated for a moment before following her. He caught up to her and they continued side by side down the path toward the cemetery gate.

“And what about you?” she asked. “Were you here to talk to somebody?”

“I made a promise,” he said solemnly as they walked.

“A secret promise?” she guessed.

He nodded as she turned to study his face.

“Have ya kept it?” she asked.

His expression stayed sober. “So far.”

They reached the street outside the cemetery. A staid pickup was parked at the curb in front of Spike’s convertible roadster. She walked over to the truck and opened the driver’s door. Then she turned to Spike and extended her hand in a formal gesture. “Applejack Smith.”

He shook her hand. “Spike Zenith.”

“I know. ‘The richest man in Equestria,’” she said with a wry smile. “So tell me, with all that money and power, why do ya always look like ya want to jump off a cliff?”

Spike smiled in spite of himself. “Why should you care?”

“I don’t.” She slid into the driver’s seat, turned the key, and the truck roared to life. “Dad was askin’.”

Applejack put the truck in gear, put her foot to the gas pedal, and pulled away from the curb... and Spike smiled to himself at the thought of running into her again.

A few short years later, on the main street outside New Canterlot University, a black Rolls Royce, the vanity plate of which read FNGRICH, pulled up to the curb. In an effort to curb their daughter’s “wild antics”, the parents of Diamond Tiara Rich were sending her to NCU.

“Randolph, can you drive around the corner, please?” Diamond Tiara asked.

“Why?” her father, Filthy Rich, asked. “The entrance is right there.”

“Dad, these are public school kids,” his daughter replied. “I’m not showing up for orientation in the Rolls.”

“What, you want us to trade in our car for a helicopter, just because you flunked out of every private school we ever sent you to?” her mother, Spoiled Rich, inquired, staring at her daughter with cold, mean eyes. “You’re starting new here, that means no more parties. You know what it did to your marks at Grant. This time, you’re going to concentrate on your schoolwork. I see another D, you don’t see another check.”

“You’ve had too much to drink,” Filthy told his wife. “I hate it when you drink.”

“I drink to get through the day,” she replied. “I was a talented, well-educated woman. I could have been someone--”

“This wasn’t for me,” Diamond Tiara commented.

“Of course it was,” Filthy Rich said. “Don’t ever be ashamed of who you are.”

“I’m not ashamed of who I am. It’s just...”

“Just what, Diamond?” Spoiled asked her daughter.

“Forget it,” she said as she clambered out.

“I should have driven Diamond Tiara up myself,” Filthy Rich thought.

Although he did his best to try to be a kind and devoted father, and gave his beloved child every luxury and comfort, he still felt she needed a mother’s care.

“I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to face my friends again,” Spoiled Rich told herself.

“Just pretend they’re a mirror,” Filthy Rich retorted.

“You’re so funny, honey. Actually, I’ll confess to them that I’m married to a moron. And that way, they’ll feel sorry for me and forgive me,”

“This ‘moron’ built you this fabulous life,”

“Oh, that again, I forgot. That’s right, honey. You did everything and I did nothing,”

“Refresh my memory, will you, please? What exactly have you done in the past five years? I know. You’ve done lunch. You’ve done chemical peels. You’ve done collagen. You’ve done liposuction. And you’ve done breast implants. Without me, you would be nothing,”

“Here’s a thought, darling. Since you’re so good with fire, maybe you should write a cookbook: How To Roast Your Own Nuts. What do you think?”

“You know what I think? I think I’m tired of busting my ass while you sit around on your ever-widening one, criticizing everything I do,”

“I have spent the last six months busting this ever-widening ass, and for what?”

“What is this really about, Spoiled?”

“I am pissed off because if I had just stayed in school instead of wasting my time on you, I would probably have my own business by now. I gave it up to help you,”

“Oh, please, you gave it up because you were afraid you might actually have to finish something!” Filthy Rich heaved a sigh. “I am tired of this. What used to work in this marriage just doesn’t work anymore.”

“Oh, God, here it comes: the divorce talk again,”

“Spoiled, we’re both wasting our time. What’s the point?”

“If you want out, just say the word,” she told him. “Do you want a divorce?”

“I need a divorce!” he shouted.

“Good! And we’ll split everything!”

“Split what? We don’t own anything. All we have is debt. I’d be glad to split that with you fifty-fifty,”

“Fifty-fifty? Not on your life!”

“Then it’ll get ugly,”

“I can do ugly. I’ve done you for the last twenty-six-and-a-half years,”

“You stopped doing me after ten,” he stated.

Inside, as the students assembled in the auditorium for orientation, Rainbow Dash skidded into her seat just as the bell rang.

“Oh, yeah!” she exclaimed. “I am good!”

“You may have made it this time, Miss Dash,” the Headmistress, Abacus Cinch, said. “But you had to break three rules to do it: no skates on school grounds and no food in class.”

“That’s only two,” Dash snapped in reply with her mouth full.

She finished her green apple, hurled its core at the trashcan across the room... and missed.

“Littering; three,” Professor Youngermane stated.

After the students settled down, Abacus Cinch introduced the key members of the faculty. As well as Dean Cadence Amore, the head of student discipline, there was Miss Diamond Rose, languages; Miss Lemony Gem, etiquette and social graces; Miss Harmony Melons, literature and art studies; Professor Youngermane, mathematics and applied sciences; and Dr. Trotland, history and social studies.

“Before you begin your individual class orientation, I have one announcement to make,” Headmistress Cinch said. “There will be a T.V. crew and accreditation committee here on Wednesday. I would like four of you to help me show them around the school, to represent New Canterlot University.”

All the while, the school’s janitors, custodians and groundskeepers spent the majority of the morning scrubbing, dusting, sweeping, mopping, sanitizing and sterilizing, cleaning the cobwebs out of the corners, raking up leaves and weeding the flower beds. Abacus Cinch wanted the University to look extra good that day because a potential new benefactor was coming.

“I haven’t seen so much elbow grease in a dog’s age,” Applejack said as they exited the assembly room. “Ya’d think royalty was comin’.”

“Just who is this guy, the Chancellor?” Rainbow Dash asked.

“He might as well be,” Sunset replied. “Heard of Spike Zenith? He’s got serious bank.”

The name ran through Rarity’s mind, finally sliding into place. She had heard of him, at least by reputation. What little people did know about him was the fact that he was a very reclusive, secretive, conceited, extremely grouchy snob who grumbled and growled at everything and everybody. And not only was he very wealthy, he lived in a big castle with a pond out back. In the winter, he could skate on his frozen pond, but he didn’t. He lived alone in that big old house; he wouldn’t even let someone come in to help him clean it. And he didn’t believe in having friends.

He also owned an enormous manufacturing company that supplied the entire Equestrian military with weapons to fight the government’s wars. Almost every business he touched turned a solid profit. But in this area, he was especially famous for his extremely generous charitable contributions and scholarship endowments. Just last week she had glimpsed him on the news, handing a ten thousand dollar check to Fluttershy, who volunteered at the animal shelter.

That’s when Rarity realized that this was the same man whose scholarship program they were all on, and so--in a sense--was paying for them to go to school there.

“Spike Zenith? The Spike Zenith?” she inquired. “He’s the richest man in the state, and the richest man in Equestria, if not the world.” She sighed. “Now there’s someone who’ll never have to work.”

“Ugh, I don’t even know the guy and I hate him already,” Rainbow Dash said.

“So he’s back from bein’ overseas, huh?” Applejack asked.

“He’s an only child but his parents were, like, shepherds or something,” Sunset said.

“Whoa, time out! Isn’t Zenith the name of that company that makes those awesome T.V. sets?” Rainbow Dash asked.

“Electronics, as well as aircraft, motorcycles and luxury watches,” Pinkie replied.

“Then why does he work if he’s already loaded?” Dash asked. “I wouldn’t!”

Suddenly, they heard a rustling behind a stack of boxes in a corner.

“What was that?” Dash asked.

“Shh, be very quiet!” Sunset Shimmer whispered.

“What is it?” whispered Fluttershy.

“I think it’s over there,” Sunset kept whispering. “I hope it’s not that. It couldn’t be.”

“What?” Dash and Fluttershy both asked.

Sunset motioned for them to come closer and said, “Yesterday, I read that a panther escaped at the zoo.”

“Yeah, right,” Dash scoffed.

“I’m not kidding,” Sunset replied. “Don’t make any sudden moves, just head toward the door. It could be anywhere.”

“It’s probably just a mouse or somethin’,” Applejack said dismissively.

“What if it’s not a mouse?” Fluttershy asked. “It could be a snake.”

“Hey! There’s nothing funny about snakes! Don’t joke about that!” Rarity told her. “There is nothing funny about slimy reptiles! Nothing!”

“Maybe it’s a big, huge python,” Dash chuckled.

“Enough!” Rarity shouted. “It’s a mouse. Snakes are supposed to live in the wild.”

“Well, this whole area used to be woods, but as we have taken over their habitat, the snakes have become suburban dwellers,” Fluttershy said. “They could be living right in our own backyards... or somebody could be breeding them. All one would need is a cardboard box and a light bulb.”

“Why would anyone want to breed snakes?” Dash asked.

“Well, snakes are clean, low-maintenance pets,” Fluttershy shared.

Rainbow Dash shook her head as they made their way outside and Rarity asked, “So, Fluttershy, any chance I can borrow your cashmere belly sweater tomorrow?”

“Sure,” she replied. “That’s what best friends are for.”

“Hey!” Pinkie exclaimed. “What about me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Pinkie Pie,” Rarity replied. “We can’t wear Fluttershy’s sweater at the same time, we’ll stretch it out.”

“No, Rarity, I meant, aren’t I your best friend, too?” Pinkie asked.

Rarity blinked and then smiled.

“Aww! Well, of course you are, sweetie,” she said as she hugged Pinkie. “And that’s why I’m going to borrow your leopard-print sandals tomorrow.”

Suddenly, Rarity gasped and then froze, her lips slowly parted.

A suave, young-looking man with chiseled features casually swung his blazer over his shoulder, atop a fitted black shirt tucked into perfectly pressed pants.

“Who is that?” she thought. “Who is that man covered with the abundance of pheromones?! That man oozes sex appeal from every pore!”

Rarity gazed at him longingly, transfixed with rapture, as her mouth hung open. Her legs weakened at the first sight of him. With his confident manner, roguish good looks, and tall and powerful body, he exuded authority and—God help her—such potent sensuality. Forbidden yet so soothing for the eyes; he made her heart and body ache.

“Rarity, what is it?” Pinkie asked. “What’s wrong?”

“Yeah, you’re starting to drool,” Sunset added.

“I think... I think... I’m in love!” Rarity sighed. “I must find out... who he is!”

“Getting a man of that caliber to fall for me sure would feel good,” she added in thought. “It would be like winning a trophy.”

Rarity could easily get any man under her spell—they were all powerless against her.

A sly smiled played at her lips as she strolled over to him.

“Is it just me, or does Rarity fall in love more often than Spoiled Rich maxes out her credit card?” Sunset asked them. “And don’t I know him from someplace?”

“I’m Rarity. Nice to meet you,” she began as she approached the man at the fountain.

“I doubt it,” he replied. “But it’s polite of you to say so.”

His words were courteous enough, even though his tone was not—and she didn’t miss his quick once-over as he glanced at her legs and her blouse, perfectly cut to show off her curves without being overly revealing.

“Wow. How badly have your previous girlfriends been treating you that you don’t even recognize common decency when you see it?” Sunset Shimmer asked him.

“I have never had a girlfriend,” he stated rather crudely.

“Oh, is that so?” Rarity asked.

“Dating is not for everybody. On the other hand, living in a deluded fantasy is probably the only way to survive this Tartarus on Earth,” he answered.

“So, what do you say we go out after class?” she asked him coyly, tucking her hair behind her ear, leaning in close to him as she did so. “I’ll even let you buy me a nonfat latté.”

“Sorry, but I’ve already got plans,” he said. “I’m going to the mall with Applejack.”

“Applejack?!” she thought. “Are they going out!?”

Rarity felt as if she’d been struck with the blunt end of a claymore (the sword, not bomb).

“Well, no big deal,” she replied. “I was only trying to be nice since you’re new in town.”

Spike shook his head as he walked away from Rarity, who was rejoined by her friends, as well as two other students, Coco Pommel and Sassy Saddles.

“I envy you,” Coco told Rarity. “You actually got up the nerve to talk to him.”

“So, come on,” Sassy said. “Tell us, what kind of guy is he? I bet he’s stuck-up, right?”

“No, actually, he’s more... well...” Rarity started.

Then she hung her head as she reflected on her experience with him thus far:

1: He was polite, at first, and not particularly warm.

2: His overall tone conveyed a general lack of interest (especially in her).

3: He said that he’d never had a girlfriend.

4: He told her he had plans with Applejack.

“If there was no #4, I’d call him obnoxious,” she thought sadly. “Maybe I’ll just tell them he’s weird.”

“Don’t worry, Rarity,” Fluttershy said. “I’ll buy you a nonfat latté after class.”

“Besides, wouldn’t you rather hang out with us, your friends, than some dimwit playboy?” Sunset Shimmer asked.

“I guess so,” Rarity replied half-heartedly. “Only I just can’t help it! He wants me.”

“You think every guy wants you,” Rainbow Dash told her.

“I know, but Spike’s different. And call me crazy, but I just have this thing for unattainable men. I’ve got to find a way to get his attention off of Applejack and onto me!”

“Girl, I admire your pluck,” Pinkie said, “but Spike Zenith is way out of your league.”

Rarity didn’t have to worry about competition from Pinkie Pie or Rainbow Dash, and Sunset Shimmer didn’t seem to be interested in Spike either—she believed that girls of such low character could never be a threat to her. But Rarity did have a very one-sided rivalry with Fluttershy. The kindest, quietest, and most mature of them, she was still the perfect balance between cute and innocent. But her thick thighs, shapely calves, and slender ankles, combined with her newfound affinity for high heeled shoes made for a stunning combination, turning heads all around town.

Her other rival was Applejack. A small-town beaut with a yen for horses and a room full of rodeo ribbons – hardworking, honest and responsible, sweet as blackstrap molasses, sharp as pine needles, and as beautiful as a cloudless Cartolina sky – all the things Rarity wasn’t.

“I’m not jealous,” Rarity said.

“Curious thing about jealousy, it usually stems from insecurity,” Pinkie told her.

“There’s no insecurity here. However much I’m not jealous, I’m twice as much not insecure,” Rarity replied. “I just have to find a way to get closer to him. If I can find something he and I have in common, he’ll toss her like a day-old muffin and come running straight to me!”

“Yeah, I do not get your taste in men, like, at all,” Rainbow Dash commented.

Just then, the intercom beeped and Dean Amore’s voice echoed through the halls.

“Will the following students please report to the Headmistress’s office immediately? Applejack Smith, Fluttershy Breeze, Rainbow Dash Hothoof, Pinkie Diane Pie, Rarity St. Germaine and Sunset Shimmer, thank you.”

Abacus Cinch was a woman of good family, but all she had ever learned as a child was how to dictate, how to intimidate, and to keep her nose high in the air... oh, and how to keep others on their toes. When she was still the principal of Crystal Preparatory Academy, Cinch held the students to very high standards, as well as a very strict code of conduct.

She had made that clear when she first “welcomed” them to Crystal Prep.

“I am not here to be your friend,” she had said. “I am only here to educate you.”

It was upon the untimely death of New Canterlot University’s last headmaster, however, that Abacus Cinch’s true nature was revealed... after she somehow got his job. Cold, cruel, and bitterly jealous of her students’ charm and beauty, she was grimly determined to forward the interests of herself and her own “precious reputation.”

Thus, as time went by, the university fell into disrepair. For the generous contributions and scholarship funds were squandered upon the vain, selfish and stupid athletes, while Cinch became a shameless sycophant when it came to anyone who showed any kind of interest in giving the school money.

Now, as Applejack, Fluttershy, Rainbow Dash, Pinkie Pie, Rarity and Sunset Shimmer stood across from the headmistress--who had been pacing back and forth behind her desk until the six girls walked in--they could clearly see that the arrogant Cinch didn’t pay much attention to what anyone else wanted, only to what she wanted. That’s why she was happiest of all in that office, where nobody could question her orders and everything was just so.

“Comfortable?” she asked them.

“Not particularly,” Pinkie answered.

“Anything I can get you, juice, coffee, rack of lamb?”

“Just what did you want to see us about?” Sunset asked.

“Let me answer that question with another. Why are you trying to destroy my school?”

“Excuse you?” Rainbow Dash countered.

“Do any of you know who Marego Oneupher is?” Cinch asked them.

“Oh, yes. She’s New Canterlot University’s most accomplished alum and a lovely woman who so generously donates money to help fund the history department,” Rarity replied.

She was all that and then some.

Not only was Marego Oneupher captain of the cheerleading squad, voted “most likely to never do anything for herself” and a winner of New Canterlot University’s science fair--Cinch made a clock powered by potatoes, Oneupher made a prototype portable music player--but in their class’s production of The Blizzard of Claws, Marego was cast as the beautiful Evil Queen, while Cinch was Tree #3. Marego also snagged the university’s biggest dreamboat, Champ Hunk, plus she got the whole school to call Abacus Cinch “Pigeon Legs.”

“Wrong!” Cinch stated. “She was this school’s most accomplished alum and was the woman who used to fund our history department... before she was hospitalized for nearly swallowing a toad.”

“Not a toad, a frog,” Fluttershy corrected her. “Frogs are green and cute, whereas toads are larger, heavier, uglier, and give you warts. What we witnessed was five thousand healthy frogs bred from a genetically deficient hereditary line.”

Cinch pursed her lips as she approached her file cabinet, pulled open one of the drawers, pulled out each of the girls’ permanent records, and began to read from them.

“Miss Dash, chronic tardiness, talking in class, repeated loitering by the boys’ locker room... and Miss Breeze, I see here that, from past performance, as well as your parents’ somewhat limited financial resources, you have been admitted on scholarship... with no severe mischief before today. So, ladies, tell me, why did the two of you conspire to smuggle the frogs for dissection out of the biology lab?”

None of the young women responded.

“Now listen to me carefully, my little write-offs!” Cinch growled at them. “For years, you six have single-handedly alienated every wealthy donor we’ve had! Welding schools are outdrawing us! We’ve lost so much money that red is our school color! Inner city schools have better computers than we do! Bosneigha wants to give us money!”

This was bad.

The University had only one decent benefactor and they had (unintentionally) driven that hard-to-get money away. New Canterlot City and the University needed new blood.

“Now I’m going to set up a meeting with Spike Zenith--are you even listening to me?!”

“Yes, ma’am,” they finally answered.

“Spike Zenith is the last rich man in this city! He is also a history buff who is considering donating a ten billion dollar grant to this school. And I want that money! If you do anything to mess this up, I swear I will...” Cinch quickly recomposed herself. “Just remember, your futures depend on it. I’ll let you know how to handle it, since I’ll be watching you. Now go!”

As they left, Cinch took a sip from her coffee mug, grimaced, then pushed a button on her desk’s phone and said, “Dean Cadenza, the cream has turned again.”

Later, after classes had ended for the day, Rarity returned home just in time to hear her mother announce that she was off to her day at the local spa.

“You girls behave yourselves,” Cookie Crumbles told them, “and Sweetie Belle, don’t bother your father. He’s finally cleaning out the basement.”

As her mom headed out to the car, Rarity ran after her and asked, “I’m in charge, right? You did tell them I’m in charge?”

“Calm down, Rarity,” her mother said. “Nobody has to be in charge.”

“But what if there’s an emergency?” Rarity asked.

“Like what?”

“What if a meteor falls out of the sky and crashes into the house?”

“If that happens, you’re in charge,” Cookie Crumbles replied.

Rarity walked toward the backyard to find her sister sitting at a drafting table she had set up there while Apple Bloom and Scootaloo constructed some wild contraption.

“Mother said I’m in charge conditionally,” Rarity stated.

“Whatever,” Sweetie Belle replied.

“What are you doing?” Rarity inquired.

“Homework,” Apple Bloom answered.

“The school year just started,” Rarity said.

“That’s cool. You wait till the last minute, then,” Scootaloo countered.

“Well, I’m watching you three,” Rarity said as she headed back into the house. “And Mother said I’m in charge... conditionally!”

Rarity was just about to call up one of her friends on telephone when it rang, and when she answered, it turned out to be the very same friend she was planning to call.

“Hello? Oh, hi, Sassy! No, I can’t go to the mall right now. Mother just went to the spa. She left me in charge. Well, you know, conditionally. Oh, if you go, can you see if Spike’s there? No, he’s the cute one that runs Zenith Industries. Yeah, he totally glanced at me the last time I was there. I just about died. No, I told you, I can’t. I’m watching my sister and her friends. Yeah, and they never get into trouble because Mother never catches them. One of these days, though, I’m going to see to it that she catches them red-handed... Will you hold it down? I am trying to use the phone!” she shouted before continuing her conversation with Sassy. “I mean, I’ve been a friend of Coco’s longer than Berryshine, so I should have been invited to that party first. I don’t care if they were lab partners. We were locker neighbors, and locker neighbors trumps lab partners every time... I told you, I can’t go!”

That’s when Sassy suggested that Rarity bring Sweetie Belle and her friends with her. Then Rarity hung up and darted outside, announcing that she was taking them to the three-story palace where wall-to-wall shopping and bargains abounded.

Out of the 99 kiosks at the New Canterlot City Central Mall, there were 60 restaurants, 20 screens at the movie theater,19 clothing stores, and three beauty boutiques as well as the same number of nail salons. From Apple Democracy to Celestia’s Secret, there was everything from lingerie to luggage and shoes galore, food, fun, fashion and so much more. And the doors were all on a magnetic time lock, so once they shut at night there was no way out until morning.

After arriving at the mall and discussing their plans (and by “discussing their plans” that meant “Rarity deciding to split and meet up with her own friends for shopping and manicures after lunch”), Rarity gave Sweetie Belle some money--only five bucks--and told her, Apple Bloom and Scootaloo to meet her back where they were in two hours.

And she promptly ditched them to peruse for great clothes and great deals.

Rarity ran until she caught up with Pinkie Pie, Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy and Sunset Shimmer, who were standing in front of her favorite store.

“I’m here!” she called out to them. “Sorry I’m late!”

“It’s about damn time!” Rainbow Dash exclaimed. “Interrupting my afternoon snack and nap, you’re the one who wanted to go shopping, not me.”

“I said I’m sorry,” Rarity replied.

“So, what’re you gonna buy?” Pinkie asked.

“A dictionary,” Rarity stated.

“What? Why? Can’t you use the one you already have?” Fluttershy asked.

“Well, no, not anymore. Not since I may, or may not, have defiled it by highlighted all of the sexual terms in red,” Rarity answered.

“Seriously?!” Dash shouted. “You’re like a seven-year-old boy!”

As they spoke, Rumble and another boy walked up to them.

“Hey, there,” Rumble told Rarity. “Has anyone ever told you you’re cute?”

“Are you free?” his friend asked. “Do you wanna hang out with us?”

This kind of stuff always happened whenever the other girls were out with Rarity.

“So, what do you wanna do?” Sunset asked her.

After a brief moment of silence, Rarity finally said, “I’m sorry, who are you?”

“Whyte Lox, from school,” he told her. “You said you were interested in meeting some new guys. Well, here I am!”

“You must have misunderstood,” Rarity replied. “We were talking about men, not boys.”

And Lox hung his head as he turned and walked away, crushed.

“Remember how I’m always telling you that you’re too picky?” Rainbow Dash asked Rarity. “This is what I’m talking about, and also why you can’t find yourself a boyfriend.”

It was true. Sure, bewitching them was easy enough, yet Rarity’s lascivious nature and her own insecurities caused her to reject every guy that attempted to make a move on her. In order to hurdle this mental barrier, she had begun a search for an inexperienced male whom she would bestow “the right” to be her first.

“Do I, or do I not, have the right to choose a good-looking guy?” Rarity huffed in reply. “But it just seems like all the good-looking ones are so used to having sex. There probably aren’t any hot guys left on Earth who are still virgins. Finding one is practically impossible.”

“You are seriously messed up!” Rainbow Dash shouted. “You know that?”

Giggling, Pinkie Pie led them through a sea of thigh-high boots and crystal-encrusted flip flops, to get to the sale items at the back of the store.

Rarity searched through the various marked-down displays until something caught her eye: a corduroy button-down fleecy tee.

“Some twit put this on the wrong rack,” she snapped. “It’s not half-price.”

She never paid retail.

Grinning, Rarity bit her lip as she approached the clerk at the register, a slender poindexter with dark brown hair, blue eyes behind large glasses, and a peach-hair mustache.

“Excuse me, Gizmo--such a handsome name--but this garment seems to be hung incorrectly. It was on the half-price rail. And even though the stitching is subpar, and the color is off by at least one shade from the designer’s runway prototype, I am willing to negotiate a reasonable price that would benefit us both,” she flirted with a flip of her hair.

And she charmed him into selling her the shirt she desired.

Meanwhile, Rarity’s little sister and her friends sat at a table in the food court on the other side of the mall, in front of Carnivore King. Originally founded by the true YMCA (Young Males’ Carnivorous Association), it was known as “the restaurant where the carnivore is king.”

“For a limited time, you can choose from the new voracious value pack, a bucket of popcorn shrimp, or the classic carnivore night owl combo, a tender cut of juicy bacon-wrapped filet, two jumbo shrimp kebabs, and a six-pack of tall boys,” one of the employees advertised. “That’s twelve cans to any average person.”

“How does Rarity expect me to have fun on the little bit of money she gives me?” Sweetie Belle was saying.

“I don’t even get the little,” Scootaloo replied, “just the bit.”

“I can’t do anything with the fifty my father gives me,” Diamond Tiara, who had just happened to be passing by, put in.

“Fifty cents?” Apple Bloom laughed. “I guess I shouldn’t feel so bad.”

“That’s fifty bucks, penny pinchers!” Diamond Tiara replied as she walked off.

Truth be told, after getting her hair and nails done, and buying a double decaf latte with mocha sprinkles and a new purse, Diamond Tiara was two dollars in the hole.

Sweetie Belle continued to flip through the pages of the Apple Democracy magazine she’d been reading until she stopped on the page featuring the picture of a trendy, new limited-edition green leather jacket.

“Cool,” said Rainbow Dash as she, Fluttershy, Pinkie Pie, Sunset Shimmer, Rarity and Rumble joined them.

“Thank you,” Sweetie Belle told her. “Can you explain that to my father who believes that I don’t need it?”

Of course her dad, a former professional football player, had plenty of money. But he was not about to buy it for her. Even if he wasn’t a parent, he believed that people--and especially children--needed to understand the value of money. So if Sweetie Belle wanted that cute jacket, she would have to earn it.

“Well, if you need it, I have a suggestion,” Rainbow Dash said as she pointed to the “Help Wanted” sign in front of Taco Hut across the food court.

“A job?” Scootaloo asked. “Between my friends and your friends the best idea we can come up with is minimum wage? Ugh!”

“You’re missing the point,” Dash told them. “There’s a big difference between earning an honest wage and begging mommy and daddy for more allowance money.”

“Well, forgive me if I can’t see you taking responsibility for anything more than yourself,” Rarity replied.

“Hey, I learned everything I need to know from cop shows and music videos,” Dash said.

“It’s true,” Pinkie confirmed. “That’s how she learned to speak Trotish.”

Just then, Fluttershy’s brother, Zephyr Breeze, walked up, holding a big piece of cardboard that had “Will work for movie tickets” written on it in big black marker.

“Zephyr, what are you doing?” Fluttershy asked.

“Trying to raise me some quick dough so I can see a movie,” he answered. “You want to help your little brother out?”

“We don’t have anything to give away,” Rainbow Dash replied.

“I’ll work for it,” he told her. “Do your nails? You know you need it. Or how about I do your hair?”

There were plenty of places where they could work even if finding a job would be tough. But the competition for anything that was a Zenith Industries property is fierce.

Everyone wanted to work for Spike.

“In case you haven’t noticed, there’s a thousand businesses in this town,” Dash said.

“Actually, the exact number is nine-hundred-thirty-six,” Pinkie corrected her. “What? I counted one day out of sheer boredom!” she told them.

That’s when Pinkie spotted Mr. Zenith himself, buying an extra-tall hot chocolate with whipped cream, and he thanked the barista as he handed her a fifty dollar bill.

“So that’s what General Grant looks like,” Dash said, admiring the man’s currency.

He pocketed the cash but dropped the rest of change, which rolled across the ground, but Pinkie was quick to scoop it up and return it to him.

“Is this yours? How come it’s so shiny? What’s your favorite color? Do you like juice or milk with your cookies? Do you play hopscotch? And what is that smell?” she asked. “It’s you! Ooh you smell so good, or do you smell this good all the time?”

Fluttershy giggled. “Sorry. Pinkie is really curious.”

“Yeah, hi there, I’m Pinkie,” she introduced herself properly. “Oh, you know that already. What comes next? Oh! What’s your name?”

“I’m Spike,” he replied. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Pinkie sneezed and Spike reached into his jacket for a handkerchief.

He held it out to her and said, “Here, have a tissue.”

“Tissue? I don’t even know you!” Pinkie laughed. “Get it?”

It took a moment, but Spike got the joke.

Pinkie, who thought he was pretty cute, tried to strike up a conversation with him, but she could tell that he was way too busy.

“Maybe we can get together later?” she asked.

“Actually, I would be tickled pink,” he said honestly.

“Oh, my favorite color,” Pinkie giggled.

Spike would have said more, but he stopped and turned when he heard the sound of motors revving outside the building, and Dash, Pinkie, Rarity, Sunset, Fluttershy and Rumble all followed him as walked out into the parking lot.

A short distance away, two thugs on a pair of low-slung motorcycles were doing doughnuts in the parking lot. The two men were uniformly tall, burly, and clad in black leather.

Suddenly, the two tapped the kickstands down with their heels and sat straddling their bikes as they spotted Applejack, who was still in her New Canterlot University skirt uniform and walking straight toward them.

“Why is this happening?” Fluttershy asked.

“The schools here have some of the highest graduation rates in the country,” Spike told her as he removed his jacket. “There are a lot of people who are upset by that.”

“So, what, are you gonna help her?” Rumble asked.

Fluttershy clutched at Spike’s arm as he started forward.

“I can’t just stand by and watch,” he said.

“You don’t have to worry about Applejack,” Sunset Shimmer told him.

“That’s Applejack Smith?” Spike inquired.

For a brief moment, Spike had forgotten that this was the same beautiful blonde that he met in the cemetery all those years ago. It had been so long, he almost didn’t recognize her.

“You know her?” Pinkie Pie asked. “She just transferred here as a junior.”

“She’s really super strong,” Dash said. “If you butt in, you’ll only be getting in her way.”

“But she’s outnumbered,” Spike stated.

For a moment, Applejack and the bikers simply scowled at each other.

“Is she gonna lecture them?” Rumble thought.

“I don’t want any fuss out of ya’ll,” she told them. “Get outta here or ya’re gonna get hurt! I won’t trouble ya’ll if ya just leave peacefully. Ya don’t want to get hurt, do ya?”

Enraged, the first biker, whose hair was pulled back into a greasy ponytail, started up his engine and shouted, “Hope you got yer insurance paid up, babe!”

The second biker, who had a shaved head and a face like a pug, took a tire chain from the back of his bike and looped it around his hand several times before swinging the other end of it over his head while the first guy produced a six-inch switch blade from inside his jacket.

Fluttershy watched the display of weapons with growing terror. She jammed a knuckle into her mouth to keep from crying out. Then the two bikers stepped on the gas and shot toward Applejack with their weapons ready.

Behind Applejack, on the sidewalk, the girls watched in horror as the biker with the chain revved his engine and charged Applejack. And she just stood there, not moving a muscle, as the thug barreled toward her.

An instant later, Applejack did start to run. But she began racing toward the motorcycle thugs. Fluttershy raised both of her hands to her mouth in fear—but just as Applejack was about to crash head-on into the motorcycle, she jumped onto the bike’s front fender. The thug barely had time to understand what happened as Applejack landed a solid punch on his nose, knocking the chain out of his hand as he fell back.

Out of control, the motorcycle skidded out from under Applejack and the biker, sending them both flying through the air. The biker crashed to the ground in a heap—but Applejack instinctively somersaulted through the air and delivered a pinwheeling roundhouse kick to the second biker (the one wielding the switchblade) in the head, knocking the blade from the other man’s fingers, and him to the ground with his accomplice, before gracefully landing on her feet just behind the fallen thugs.

The ugly knife went skittering along the pavement and stopped right at Spike’s feet as Applejack returned to him, but not before telling the guys on the ground, “Don’t call me ‘babe’.”

“Thank God, you’re all right!” Fluttershy said. Her face was white. “I was so frightened.”

Rainbow Dash gave a hoot of victory, pumping her fist into the air as she heard the sound of police sirens in the distance.

“Cheese it!” one of the thugs shrieked. “It’s the cops!”

“Every man for himself!” shouted the other.

But they didn’t get away.

Back inside the mall, Rumble accused Applejack of setting the whole thing up.

“Faked it?” she asked.

“Yeah, there’s no way a girl can beat a guy!” he said. “I’ll bet you paid them to let you win so you could gain popularity. Or... maybe you didn’t offer money, something else, perhaps. Maybe you’re the kind of girl who would offer a guy a little bit of her you-know-what.”

Applejack glanced at Spike, who took a step back. He was not going to back Rumble up.

“I’d turn and walk away if I were you,” Applejack advised. “Or don’t ya care that ya may not be able to walk to school anymore?”

“We’ll see who’ll be the one who won’t be able to go back to school,” Rumble replied.

“What a sorry excuse for a man,” Applejack thought.

“This is your day,” she told him. “I wasn’t going to fight any of the students here, but it looks like I’ll just have to make an exception in your case.”

“You’re so cute, bluffing like that,” Rumble said. “I’ll bet your knees are quaking.”

One look at Applejack’s legs and Spike could clearly see that they were not shaking. They didn’t look weak at all. In fact, those calves and thighs had a luscious, feminine curve to them. Thick and strong with well-toned, beautifully defined muscles, Applejack’s legs looked like they had been masterfully sculpted out of the most precious marble.

She looked at Spike again and asked, “Will ya vouch for me that this was self-defense?”

“Sure,” he said. “He’s the one instigating it, after all.”

“Okay,” Applejack replied. She looked at Rumble once more and said, “Come at me.”

She really did want to make this self-defense; a smart move on her part.

Rumble retorted, “Don’t be so sure of yourself,” and charged.

And it was at that particular moment that Spike suddenly put all of the pieces of the puzzle together—he remembered that there was an unbelievably strong young woman who was also very beautiful. She went around beating up dumb guys who harassed good people. She was very tall with impressive strength for her gender. She tried to confess her feelings to a boy she liked, but he rejected her, and she had been thrown out of her previous school for fighting before transferring to New Canterlot High, causing many rumors to spread that she was a delinquent and to avoid her.

That’s what he’d always heard, at least.

And now, he was witnessing firsthand that the rumors were true.

Rumble went high with his swing, which missed, as Applejack went low and launched Rumble into the air with hundreds of kicks from her right leg delivered in rapid succession. She spun the whole three-hundred-sixty degrees and kept on kicking him, this time with her left leg.

“Wow, he’s really flying!” Spike thought.

The blows landed on him so fast that they didn’t even sound like kicks, but more like one thousand shots from a machine gun. Applejack didn’t just beat Rumble... she clobbered him.

And even though she put everything she had into those kicks, she didn’t knock him out. But she had made him unable to stand... at least for a little while.

“Did I go too far?” Applejack asked.

“At first, I thought, maybe,” Spike admitted, “but then I remembered, he may be small but he’s resilient. Trust me, he’ll be fine.”

Applejack glared down at Rumble and said, “Don’t challenge me again.”

“Damn her!” Rumble whimpered.

The next day, Rarity sat alone at a table in the food court at the mall, waiting for the other girls to arrive. She couldn’t stop thinking about Spike being with Applejack. To be thwarted by a low-class woman like that was unthinkable, but if Spike thought not being “the cream of the crop” was going to be enough to get rid of Rarity, she believed he would be dead wrong. She refused to accept that he preferred “that unrefined farm girl” over her.

“GRRRR! That man! He’s got to have some sort of weakness... There must be a limit to what he can resist!” she thought angrily. “No man can resist me. So why doesn’t...?”

That’s when she spotted the man standing in front of Carnivore King with a to-go cup of hot cocoa in his hand.

Spike’s smile faded as he caught Rarity peeking at him from behind one of the table menus, and he became irritated by the displeasure of having to see her again.

He looked her right in the eye and, almost completely out of the blue, said, “You have one younger sibling, a sister. She’s small for her age. She flicked ink at you the other day.”

“Is there ink on my face?” Rarity inquired.

“No. However, there are two drops on your ear,” he said, pointing to it. “That particular shade of blue is almost impossible to wash off. A very impetuous act on her part but you’re far too experienced to react rashly, which is why your mother lent you that necklace you’re wearing. Hardly the gems of a dress maker...” His eyes narrowed. “And ye did a fair job looking me up and down while ye perused the menu. Do ye like what ye see?”

Rarity felt her face heat. Her subtle inspections hadn’t gone unnoticed.

Then she tried a more direct approach.

“You’re a handsome man. Surely people have told you that before.”

“Your accent is also strange,” Spike went on. “You’re not from these parts.”

“My parents are from Whinnysota,” she replied. “Everyone who hears them talk knows right of the bat.”

“Of course, I can understand your pride after learning about your background,” he said.

“I-I beg your pardon?” Rarity stammered.

“Oh, come now, Miss St. Germaine, I know all about your illustrious family,” Spike said. “There’s quite a streak of skullduggery in your bloodline. Don’t tell me you’re going to deny knowing anything about Grapeshot St. Germaine, the pirate.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Rarity lied.

“You also come from a prominent family of witches, starting with one who’d been hung during the trials in Stablem in the sixteen hundreds; and your generosity... Bluebeard would be so proud of you,”

“Bluebeard...” Rarity nearly choked on the word.

“What do you want from me?” he said at last.

“I want you to be mine and mine alone,”

“Do you really know the meaning of the words you’re saying, little girl?” he asked.

Rarity didn’t respond; she couldn’t. She was too shocked by the sudden, casual appearance of Applejack, who had shown up wearing a basic plaid shirt and faded blue jeans.

“Those are your normal clothes?” she asked. “You don’t have a shred of femininity! And you call yourself a woman. Don’t you understand how much potential you’re wasting? Do you not know what a waste that is? Are those even girls’ clothes? Are they men’s?!”

Rarity motioned to the pink camisoles, lace miniskirts, sleeveless chiffon tops and loose balloon skirts in a window display nearby.

“That’s beauty anyone can acknowledge,” Rarity said. “Those are the kinds of clothes that have beauty written all over them. How can you not be interested in things like that?! Your lack of personal style, your nonexistent fashion sense and your inability--or even wanting--to put any effort into your appearance is pissing me off!”

“I just don’t care about things like that,” Applejack replied.

“Then how did a super-strong freak like you manage to enthrall Spike Zenith? You have some secret technique, don’t you?! That’s the only logical explanation as to why he would be able to resist someone as beautiful as me! If I could catch a man like that, my beauty would be even more magnified! It would be unstoppable! I can’t accept this! Tell me, right now, what method did you use, woman!?”

“Rarity...” Applejack slapped her across the cheek. “That’s enough of this!”

“What was that for?” Rarity shouted.

“Why do ya get so brazen? Quit tryin’ to one up yerself! Everyone already knows how cute ya are without ya havin’ to resort to behavior like this! Just what are ya tryin’ to prove!?”

“They laughed at me!” Rarity bawled. “But if I make enough people think I’m beautiful, I’ll finally be able to get back at them!”

Spike and Applejack were taken aback by her outburst. She had attracted quite a crowd, including Rainbow Dash, Pinkie Pie, Fluttershy and Sunset Shimmer, who had finally arrived.

“Do you really think that?” Applejack asked. “If ya want to get back at them, then face them head-on! Be strong enough to take them on alone, without draggin’ anyone else into it, least of all people who’ve got nothin’ to do with it! I don’t know what happened to ya, or what ya’ve gone through, but I do know that the ones who laughed at ya are sure to acknowledge how beautiful ya really are.”

“You knew that from the moment you first locked eyes with me... didn’t you?” Rarity asked Spike. “That’s why he rejected me!”

“If that’s true, then what’d ya attack her for?” Applejack asked.

“I just did what you would have done and confronted the bitch head-on,” he replied. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“Wait a minute, why did you mention my sister?” Rarity asked. “Where is she?”

Then, as if on cue, Sweetie Belle came running across the food court, out of breath.

“I found you!” she panted.

“Were we lost?” Pinkie asked.

“Classic!” Rainbow Dash laughed.

“What is it?” Fluttershy asked. “What’s wrong?”

“Scootaloo needs help!” Sweetie Belle cried. “Come on! Let’s go!”

Apple Bloom and Scootaloo had been arguing whether or not a tongue would stick to a metal pole in cold weather, snow or no snow. So Apple Bloom dared Scootaloo to stick her tongue to one of the street lights in the parking lot on the far side of the mall.

“I triple dog dare ya!” she had said.

Apple Bloom had created a breach of etiquette, by skipping the triple-dare and going right for the throat. And Scootaloo accepted as she approached the nearest light pole, her spine stiff, her lips curled in a defiant sneer.

Spike was already running through the parking lot when he heard a voice calling, crying out to him. He turned to see Scootaloo urgently waving him over. When he got closer, he walked around to face her and saw that her tongue was stuck to the light pole.

“Halp!” she exclaimed, a heavy slur muffling her speech. “H-Hey, mithah! Cah yuh hep me?” she lisped. “Muh tongue’s thtuck! Please!”

She was genuinely terrified. If she had been a little older, she would have let him do anything he wanted to her (even do her in her ass) if it meant getting her unstuck. Fortunately, Spike knew exactly what to do. He wasn’t about to leave her there, even if it was just to find someone to help. He told her not to worry and that he would get her free from the pole... but not by pulling. He told her that he would get her out by generating some heat.

Luckily, he still had more than a few drops of hot cocoa left in his to-go cup.

“I got you... almost there,” he said as leaned toward Scootaloo and slowly, gently poured his cocoa onto her tongue, successfully loosening it from the metal pole.

Spike held her, bridal-style, in his arms and Scootaloo let out a quiet grunt, a squeak, as she rested her head against his chest.

She secretly loved being carried.

“Your suit’s ruined,” Rarity said when she saw Scootaloo’s tears on Spike’s jacket.

“Clothes can be replaced, Rarity,” he said. “People can’t.”

Even after the police, the fire department and the paramedics arrived to make sure she was okay, which she was, Scootaloo refused to rat out Apple Bloom to anyone, though Spike suspected as much.

“Thank you, Dr. Horse,” Fluttershy said after the fuss died down. “Spike, Dr. Horse said you did a great job.”

“I didn’t do anything special,” he replied.

“That’s not true,” Rarity said. “You kept Scootaloo calm, even better than Fluttershy could have. And she babysat my sister and her friends for five years.”

The girls didn’t know why they couldn’t thank him... at least out loud.

Sure, he was a standoffish jerk, but he’d practically saved Scootaloo’s life.

And he did have a way of always being there right when they needed him.

“Let me let you in on a little secret: I’m not half as bad as I make myself out to be. It’s to weed out the people who just suck up to me. And you are definitely not one of them. That is what impresses me the most,” he said. “I may be wealthy, but money can’t buy friendship.”

“Yeah, ya did well, Spike,” Applejack stated. “Ya really do have a way with people.”

“Face it, stud, you’re one of us now,” Rainbow Dash added.

As the girls surrounded him in a group hug, Spike noticed Rarity looking up at him and said, “What?”

“It’s just, a little while ago, you called me by name,” she observed. “You never said my name before.”

“So?” he asked.

“It’s just that I think you like me more now, is all,” she replied.

“Maybe he’s decided to be a bit nicer to me,” she thought.

“Pffft! Don’t get excited,” he said. “I still think you’re a high-stepping snob.”

“Well, next time, I’ll be so perfect that not only will you fall at my feet, I’ll make you melt!” Rarity promised.

None of them would ever forget about that.

“Come on, girls,” Rarity said. “Just because we can’t go to a movie like we planned doesn’t mean we can’t go out for a nice evening.”

“I still can’t believe you can actually eat at Taco Hut,” Spike commented after he’d offered to escort Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo home. “You know those people hork in the food, right?”

“What, you mean in everyone’s food?” Rainbow Dash asked.

“No, just the people who disrespect them,” he replied.

After he and the three younger girls had left, Whyte Lox, the guy Rarity had turned down the other day, suddenly snatched her purse and went right on by her... toward Applejack.

“Stop right there!” Applejack shouted. “Hand it over!”

“What does that girl think she’s doing?” Rarity thought.

Lox kept running as Applejack said, “If ya’re not gonna stop, then I’ll have to make ya!”

She grabbed the creep by his arm, pulled him up over her shoulder, and threw him to the ground before the police hauled him away.

“He was huge, but you took him on anyway!” Rarity exclaimed. “You’re completely reckless!”

“Why, because I’m not a ‘normal’ girl?” Applejack asked. “Or because, for a woman, I’m too strong? Sorry, but this is the kind of person I am. I’m sorry if I made ya worry. A lot of people get angry at me for it, and tell me to be more ‘ladylike’. But I think it’s best to be true to yerself, be the person ya really are. That’s what I believe.”

“That’s the kind of excuse I’d expect from a woman who doesn’t even know the meaning of the word feminine!” Rarity retorted. “That’s why I can’t forgive a girl who won’t even try to act like a lady! If you don’t clean yourself up a bit, you’ll be left crying when he abandons you in the end.”

“Who?” Applejack asked.

“Spike, of course,” Rarity replied. “He likes you.”

“No, he doesn’t. He just enjoys bein’ with me,” Applejack said. “He and I don’t have that kind of relationship.”

“Somehow, I can’t help but feel kind of sorry for him,” Rarity admitted. Then she gasped and screamed, “Your sleeve is ripped! That’s what you get for buying cheap stuff. I won’t be able to find anything really suitable for you, so tell me your sizes and I’ll make you something.”

“‘Make’ me something, ya mean, like, clothes?”

“Yeah, you’ve got good looks at least, so I’ll figure something out,”

“No, that’s okay,”

“I said I’m doing this!”

Rarity had already given up on giving Applejack a makeover.

“Another waste of time,” she thought.

Now, Applejack smiled as she and Spike moved across the sloping lawn and halted by the gate of the deserted cemetery, her thoughts lost in memory.

“What’re ya lookin’ at?” she asked. “If ya’ve got somethin’ to say, just say it.”

“Whenever you’re nostalgic, you get really flustered and look even cuter than normal,” he said with a smile.

“Oh, and what about you?” she said, fighting off a blush. “Spike Zenith, babe magnet...”

“Please, don’t call me that,” he stated. “I’ll see you later.”

Applejack didn’t want to leave him. Truthfully, she would have followed him to the ends of the Earth if she could.

“Oh, Spike, if only ya knew...” she said under her breath, watching him step into the deepening darkness.

Back in New Canterlot City, councilwoman Vignette Valencia was still hopping mad.

“I’m telling you, it’s vigilantism at its deadliest,” the young, smartly dressed politician was saying as she gave a statement to the pack of television and news reporters that had gathered at the steps of City Hall. “How many times are we going to let this happen? How many times are we going to let this Dragon cross the line?”

“She’s playing them like a revivalist preacher,” Inky Quills murmured to Press Release on the sidelines. “Watch—now she’ll go after Shining Armor.”

On the fringes of the crowd, Captain Shining Armor stood next to Sergeant Spearhead and listened until he could stand no more.

“I’m sorry, Councilwoman, but you can’t blame the Equestrian Dragon for what happened to Ragamuffin and Flash Sentry,” Shining Armor said.

Inwardly, he was cursing his impulse that had made him agree to attend this impromptu press conference. He snorted. Press conference, indeed—the way Valencia ran things, it was more like a public indictment of Armor and his methods.

All that was missing was the tar and feathers.

Inky Quills repressed a sigh. He could see that Vignette was on the verge of working herself up into another fire-and-brimstone frenzy again. The woman made some sense once in a great while—but she had too much flash and far too little substance for anyone to take her seriously. Watching the crowd’s reactions to the councilwoman’s charges, Inky had to admit that Vignette was a world-class manipulator. Poor Shining Armor didn’t stand a chance.

“And why the Tartarus not?” she thundered in retort and outrage as she turned on the police captain, who had been standing behind her. “He was there! He’s a murderer, Captain. And it’s not just my opinion. A lot of people, including the police, I might add, think the Dragon’s every bit as evil as the crooks he occasionally manages to apprehend.”

The councilwoman was gesturing toward her left, where Sergeant Spearhead and Officer Silver Sable were trying vainly to hide their faces behind the collars of their uniforms’ shirts. Shining Armor glared meaningfully at his subordinates.

Then Vignette looked straight into the nearest television camera, raising a fist for effect, and shouted, “What kind of world are we living in when we choose to depend on the support of a literal monster to enforce law and order?!”

Inky Quills shook his head, watching Armor’s expression change from shocked to furious. He had every right to be upset, he reflected, scanning the crowd as they reacted to Vignette Valencia’s final words. For the moment, the cheers outnumbered the boos ten to one.

Far away, in the Equestrian Dragon’s cave, hundreds of feet below the vast Pendragon Castle, Fancy Pants shook his head in prim disapproval of Councilwoman Valencia.

“What rot, sir!” he exclaimed as he switched off the television and Vignette’s passionate features shrank to a pinpoint of bluish light on the large video screen then vanished altogether. “You’re the very model of order.”

He set the remote control on a nearby stone outcropping and turned to his employer.

“By the way, Lemony Crumble and Cobalt Stone have polished your armor collection upstairs, Red Ribbons has pressed your clothes for the evening, and I’ve put away your exploding smoke pellets.”

“Thanks, Fancy,” Spike said as he popped a heart-shaped diamond into his mouth and swallowed it whole before opening a large, wooden crate with a crowbar to reveal cardboard box upon cardboard box of things belonging to Applejack and her family.

“What’s all this?” Fancy Pants inquired.

“The future,” Spike answered. “Sooner or later, I’m going to have to talk Applejack about her mother and father.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about her parents?” Fancy Pants asked.

“I knew you would react this way, that’s why I didn’t say anything,” Spike replied.

“I don’t like secrets, sir,”

“Fancy, I am the epitome of the word,” Spike said. He sighed before he went on. “They died just before she entered high school... They were killed by a carjacker. I wish I could say it was just one of those things... It could have happened to anyone.”

“But it didn’t happen to just anyone, and that is the real kicker, isn’t it?” Fancy Pants replied. “So, Miss Smith isn’t just another acquaintance?” he assumed.

“No,” Spike stated. “She’s my goddaughter.”

Author's Note

Next time: An exterminator hired by the mayor to rid the city of its “monster epidemic” is revealed to be a monster himself, one that lures others into danger.

Music of the Brine Dragon

A cold wind blew as the Equestrian Dragon flew through the night sky high above the streets of New Canterlot City. A purple and green blur, he was on his way back to his lair from the Landfill Trailer Park south of the suburbs on the lower West Side.

He had just come from meeting up with two blonde wood nymphs who told him that Legerdemain has been using the trailer park to develop his product for the past five years.

“If you can figure out what trailers he’s using for drug labs, you should have no problem making them go ‘boom,’” they had said.

The Equestrian Dragon was going to enjoy dismantling the Raven Cartel’s operation... brick by literal brick--cut off their income first then go for the head.

Finding a map of the trailer park was easy enough; there was one tacked up on the wall of the laundry mat in the main office. Then the Equestrian Dragon’s gaze focused on seven Raven thugs on the other side of the building.

The Equestrian Dragon burst from the laundry mat as one thug pulled a gun. He grabbed the guy’s arm and beat him as the remaining Ravens drew their own guns and took aim. They opened fired and their bullets bounced off the Dragon’s armored skin. Spinning in a circle, the Dragon knocked the other Ravens aside with his tail, swatting them as if they were flies. He then found their drug labs hidden inside five different mobile homes, as well as five lab technicians cooking up a fine white powder that made people do funny things... like freak out in the middle of very public places.

“Legerdemain’s on our asses, guys,” the head technician said to the others. “We gotta get this shipment done tonight.”

The Equestrian Dragon tore through the side of one of the trailers housing a drug lab, scaring the lab technicians away, and he found several square, tightly wrapped cellophane packages about the size of a carry-on bag—about 20 keys, tightly wrapped with waterproof tape—a professional wrapping job.

Using one of his claws, the Dragon made a little slit in one of the packages, stuck the tip of his talon in, and withdrew with some of the flakey, pearlescent white powder on it. No. Not powder, more like a metallic pastry crust. He touched the flakes to his tongue, tasting the bitterness then felt a light numbness.

It was the real McColt, 400 large wholesale.

And not just crack coke, but stashes of crystal meth and even Witchweed.

The lab technicians, meth heads, crack-heads, and other druggies all ran... except for one.

The Dragon’s gaze caught on the man’s inner arm where track marks and fresh punctures marred his skin.

Then a knife appeared in the man’s hand.

Their eyes locked. The Equestrian Dragon had no compassion for this being, because what he saw in this creature’s eyes was anything but humane.

One thing the Dragon had learned living in Equestria for so many centuries was how to handle drug addicts, alcoholics, and idiots who simply didn’t take no for an answer. He had dealt with his share of threatening situations. The key was to remain calm.

But then his primitive survival instincts kicked in and his eyes narrowed as he flashed his darkest, most practiced, fanged snarl.

The blade moved a fraction of an inch and the Dragon thrust the druggie’s knife-holding arm up against the guy’s throat. Warm blood dribbled along the junkie’s neck, but he didn’t wipe it away. The Dragon’s fist barreled into the addict’s chest with every pound of force the Dragon could produce. Then the Equestrian Dragon slammed the junkie in the head with his tail, and the junkie’s body, and the knife, fell to the ground.

The Equestrian Dragon had been flying around a little over seventeen minutes since then... until he landed outside a little jazz club called The Blue Room, which was owned and operated by a couple of ex-soldiers who had come into money after their honorable discharges.

Now, as Spike Zenith sat alone inside the nightclub, trying (and failing) to drown his sorrows in red wine, Fleur de Lis, wearing a low-cut red dress and matching high heels, walked in and approached his table.

“I thought I would find you here,” she said.

“Sit down. Pull up a memory or two,” he replied.

“Celestia and Luna have been worried about you,” she told him. “And so am I.”

“Fleur, is it just me or is the whole world going crazy? It’s just that... I don’t know if I fit in anymore. I’m lost...”

“You’re still thinking about your parents, aren’t you?” she asked.

“I think about them constantly,” Spike said honestly. “They’re a part of me, they always will be. You know, sometimes I think about Fancy Pants and his late wife, that’s when I envy him, because he had someone... the same person every day for thirty years. He woke up next to her, he ate with her, made love to her... while I’m out running around with 20-somethings who just want to have a good time, sex, sex, sex--girls who just can’t say no, who can’t get enough, it’s always, ‘more, more, more!’”

In her own unique way, Fleur understood.

She had done her fair share of partying over the centuries, experimented with all kinds of substances... the wildest she got now was the whole bottle of Champagne or a couple of ales.

Now, she believed that one would have to be an insult to stupid to even consider messing with drugs. She would never do anything to disgrace herself or her friendship with Spike... and she knew that these had not been easy things for him to say.

“Well, just don’t forget, you’ve got the Haywaiian Tropical Illustrated photo shoot at 2:00 tomorrow, and then at 4:00, they’re dedicating a statue at Beaumount Park,” she told him after he’d calmed down. She gave him a gentle kiss and said, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

As she left, Spike gazed at the pictures up on the walls. And while he stared at one of the paintings by Pinto Paintcaster, Spike growled as he heard the voice of his father in his head.

“Now, focus! Straighten up! Chin up! Wider stance, steady, strong... Hold your ground!”

Standing side by side, there were times that even Spike’s mother couldn’t tell them apart.

“Come on, let’s try it again. Ready? Son, if you want to grow up and be like me someday, you have to learn how to fight,” Locke said. “Let me show you something. You see this mark?” The same shape marked their arms. “You, and I, and your mother, are the same, and when you’re bigger, you’re going to be Dragon Lord just like I was. Now let me see you fight.”

“How much longer do I have to keep this up, Father?” Spike had asked.

“Patience, Spike. The fool chases his prey, but the wise one waits for it to come to him,”

Unfortunately, Spike had been struggling to keep his natural instincts at bay in combat.

“I’m sorry, Father. I don’t know what came over me. I won’t let it happen again,”

“I wish I could believe that. Tend to the sheep,” Locke said before turning to his wife.

“Yes, Father,” Spike replied.

“Go easy on the lad, Locke,” Barb had said. “Give him time to adjust.”

“He’s old enough to watch the sheep,” he replied. “Work will take his mind off things.”

“Only time can mend a broken heart,” she’d told him.

“I watched the sheep at his age,”

“Aye and ye left home as soon as ye were old enough. Didn’t ye? He just wants to make you proud,”

“I could be... if he had the proper technique,”

“Your technique,” Barb corrected him.

“Is there another kind?”

“Locke, an acorn can only become a mighty oak and nothing else. You must let Spike grow into the man that he will be,” she’d said.

The following day at New Canterlot University, Rainbow Dash was trying to take a nap while Sunset Shimmer was reading, doing a little quick research; Applejack was working out on a resistance machine, and Fluttershy was playing her new flute.

Fluttershy had been reluctant to take up learning a different instrument—at least at first—especially since she had become so attached to her tambourine, but then she remembered something her grandmother once said: “Music is powerful. It’s the universal language; one of our best hopes for the eventual realization of the unity of the human race.”

So she continued to practice, knowing that someday it would pay off.

Her playing started out calm then gradually became more majestic.

“Hey, Fluttershy, I got a request,” Rainbow Dash said.

“You do?” she asked.

“Yeah, can you play So Low I Can’t Hear You?” Dash retorted.

Dash couldn’t nap with all the noise, so she decided to make her favorite sandwich: pasta and potato on sourdough. All the while, Pinkie Pie was devouring several different kinds of juice, ice cream, cake, cookies, candy and frozen yogurt.

“Keep it coming,” she said. “Now what was I saying? Oh, yeah. So they told me, ‘Money doesn’t grow on trees.’ And I told them, ‘Money’s made of paper and paper comes from trees so, technically, money does grow on trees.’”

That’s when Rarity walked in and said (more like announced), “Guess who’s on a photo shoot in the park right now.”

Fluttershy gasped. “Spike? Spike is in the park right now?”

“As we speak,” Rarity practically sang.

And before she could say anymore, the other girls rushed around to get ready.

Sunset snapped her books shut, Applejack took a short shower and changed clothes, Rainbow Dash took a hairbrush from Rarity’s purse and quickly combed through her ruffled hair, Pinkie Pie finished her “light snack” and Fluttershy disassembled her flute and carefully placed its pieces into its small, protective case... then they headed off to the park.

As they walked to the bus stop nearby, Sunset asked Rarity, “So, have you got a date for the Founders’ Day Festival next year?”

“I’m not going,” Rarity answered.

“Well, I happen to know that Spike’s still available,” Sunset said. “Now, he is older and very sophisticated, but he’s cute. Besides, he’s very intelligent.”

“Oh, he’s handsome, all right, and rude and conceited,” Rarity replied. “Come on, Sunset, I may be desperate, but I’m not that desperate.”

When the girls rounded the corner, Fluttershy bumped into a tall, thin man carrying a small, black, protective flute and piccolo all-in-one case, and it and hers both fell to the sidewalk.

“Watch it!” he exclaimed.

“I’m sorry. I am so sorry. I’m in a hurry!” Fluttershy said as she bent down to retrieve one of the flute cases.

“What are you, a damn idiot?” he shouted.

“Well, that is uncalled for!” Rarity replied.

“She barely bumped ya,” Applejack said.

“And she said sorry,” Sunset Shimmer added.

As the man picked the other flute case up from the ground and walked away, he said, “Pray that our paths never cross again. Next time, I will not be in such a forgiving mood.”

“Why you--” Rainbow Dash began.

She was about to chase after him when a silver shuttle bus pulled up to the curb. The door opened and the driver tipped his hat to the girls.

“Next stop, Beaumount Park,” he said.

And the girls boarded the bus, not giving the rude man a second thought.

A short drive from New Canterlot University, the posh Beaumount Hotel was a favorite amongst photographers. And its manmade fountains had their own merits as prime photo locations. Photo Finish, famous photographer for Zenith Industries, was there with her entire entourage: Soigné Folio, High Style, Powder Rouge, Pixel Pizzazz and Violet Blurr. And they were guarded by a hulking bruiser with a black buzz cut and matching goatee.

“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate zis, Spike,” Photo Finish said. “After the way you saved my business... and my life... it’s the least I can do to thank you.”

“No problem,” Spike replied.

Then they got down to business: where they tried to capture lightning in a bottle.

The second the cameras came on, all of the models knew that they could be shooting all day. That meant hours and hours of footage, hundreds upon hundreds of photos just for that one shot that captured the look and feel of the whole photo shoot.

Of course, the location was only as good as the talent.

The Haywaiian Tropical International bikini models were gorgeous women who had seen the beaches of the Bahaymas, the jungles of South Equestria, and beyond. Forty-five women from all over the world—from Flankfurt, Germaney to Mountreal, Caneighada—these swimsuit models came from near and far to flaunt their endowments... all while striking carnal poses.

“Magnificent, super!” Photo Finish exclaimed. “Come on, now! I want to see hunger in your eyes. Beautiful, beautiful! Slice of Elysium! Wunderbar! That’s it! Oh, yes, you’re angry. Show me angry... Yes, yes! No, no! We need more energy, more romance. We need... Her!”

Of all the girls Photo Finish had photographed, few could so naturally raise the room temperature like sweet Vivacious Stokes. She would shoot her for half an hour then go back to the studio and argue with her staff about which were the best shots, and they realized that every shot was as good as the next and they were all smokin’! So, she simply ran the footage and marveled... then snuck off and sat on a block of ice for a few hours.

Vivacious Stokes gave Photo Finish a couple of different looks from smiling, to being happy, to the more sensual look, but not so much as “come and get me” sexy. But they were all tasteful and exciting.

Meanwhile, Applejack, Fluttershy, Pinkie Pie, Rainbow Dash, Rarity and Sunset Shimmer stood under a tree, off to the side, watching Spike. Fluttershy could not stop smiling, her mouth dropping open even after Sunset reached over and closed it... and Fluttershy sighed when Spike waved at her.

“That’s it! Work it! Own it! Now pout for me! Pout! Pout! Oh, no, he’s pouting more than the girls... No! I can work with this!” Photo Finish shouted.

They took a fifteen minute break and Vivacious Stokes asked, “Spike, what’s wrong? I thought a photo shoot with the Haywaiian Tropical bikini models was a lifelong dream?”

“It was, it was, it’s just... there’s something vaguely torturous about beholding these beautiful women,” he said.

The modeling world was very tough, they both knew that.

Spike’s ultimate goal here was to give back to these girls who wanted to be models and to help them to obtain careers in modeling. He took the seedy part out of it, gave the girls a hard education on the reality of what it was all about, and gave them the chance to interview with some of the real people that would be able to help those girls further their careers. People they would never have a chance to meet in the legitimate modeling world.

With his help, they made a lot of good connections, met a lot of good people, got jobs through different agencies, they were able to travel all over the world--from Prance to Tahayiti--and he helped them improve their own self-esteem... and they appreciated him for that.

“Spike, you’re doing a good thing here,” Vivacious Stokes said. “You’re a great guy.”

“Yeah, well, being me isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” he replied.

Spike Zenith wasn’t just a model himself, he was a force of nature; the kind that could launch a thousand ships, 200 kayaks, eight paddleboats and a canoe.

But there were times he wished he could pass his duties as the Equestrian Dragon on to the next dragon and be done with it... but those were his responsibilities; they belonged to him and only him.

In the meantime, Mayor Strider was having a meeting with Councilwoman Vignette Valencia in his office at City Hall. He had been declining comments to the press all morning regarding the Equestrian Dragon.

“You write anything in that newspaper of yours that sends my city into a panic, they’ll be lookin’ for you at the bottom of the river! You can quote me on that!” Strider shouted.

And he slammed the phone down onto the receiver on his desk.

“Can someone please explain to me why the local gossip has to be breathing down my neck?” he asked the councilwoman. “There’s enough going on around here without having to deal with those morons.”

“That wasn’t a footprint, but there’s no animal in the world that makes tracks like that,” Vignette stated.

Strider gnashed his teeth. “Whatever it was that attacked the trailer park last night, and I refuse to use the word ‘dragon,’ I want it forgotten! It’s history, over and done with!”

“It’s far from over,” Cream Heart, the mayor’s assistant, replied. “We’ve been receiving reports of odd occurrences from all over the city.”

“Shall I contact the Flimflam Brothers?” Vignette suggested.

“I wouldn’t hire those scam artists to shine my shoes!” Strider yelled.

“Well, then, maybe I can help,” said a voice.

A tall, thin, mysterious, sophisticated man with sharp blue eyes, and a small, black case in his hands, stood up from an armchair in the corner of the room.

“Excuse me, Your Honor. My name is Forest, Black-Forest. I understand you’re a busy man, so I’ll make this short. You have a problem, and I’m the man to take care of it. I can drive it out of town, and out of your hair... for a price,” he offered.

The mayor and councilwoman studied the man holding the instrument case.

In that suit—which consisting of a white collared shirt, torch red necktie, black slacks, a dark green jacket with golden yellow buttons, an orange handkerchief in the jacket’s breast pocket, and a royal purple cloak—he didn’t look much like an exterminator, or even a scientist for that matter.

“And what is the right price?” Vignette Valencia inquired as Strider rose from his chair.

“One hundred gold sovereigns,” Black-Forest said, “which, judging by your dinnerware, you can easily afford.”

“The Mayor will never meet such a demand,” Cream Heart thought.

Then she said, “I’ll call security and have him thrown out.”

“Are you stupid?” Strider asked. He pulled her and the councilwoman aside and whispered, “He won’t be able to rid us of one pest, let alone all of them. But it will give us someone else to blame for our failure. When the monsters aren’t gone, I can say he didn’t keep his promise... and buy ourselves more time without spending a haypenny.”

Strider turned back toward Black-Forest and said, “I agree to your bargain. If you can do what you claim, we have a deal. Cream Heart, go draw up a contract!”

“Yes, Cream Heart,” Black-Forest smiled. “Do that.”

So the deal was confirmed.

An hour later, Fluttershy sighed as she sat on a rock near a pond at the edge of the forest.

She couldn’t stop thinking about Spike.

She’d been so obsessed over him lately she couldn’t even think about other boys.

All she could focus on were those gorgeous green eyes.

And every word out of his mouth was like a glimpse into his soul.

She just wanted to wrap her arms around him... which led to her fantasizing about what her future with Spike would be like: first love, then marriage, and finally... children.

But she had come here to practice, which she thought would take her mind off of him, and when she tried to open the instrument case, the catches would not budge.

“I never lock my flute case,” she thought out loud.

Thinking back to earlier that day, Fluttershy recalled that the man she collided with at the bus stop had been holding the exact same small, black, protective flute and piccolo all-in-one case... exactly like hers!

After a bit of tampering with the locks, she managed to open the case. And when she did, she saw a flute... but it was very different from her own. At first glance, it looked like her flute, but this one had symbols along the side--silhouettes of a rat, a fox, a duck, a parrot, an owl, a pelican, a lobster, a witch, a unicorn, an ogre, and a dragon... among many others.

As well as the flute, the case contained five hundred and twenty gold coins and a note. But not just any note, it was orders for an assassination.

Greetings, Piper,

This time your mission is to take out a certain individual.

His name is Street Rat.

His employer, Flintlock Firepower is supplying guns illegally to the Brotherhood of White Wolves in New Canterlot City. Their rival group, the Raven Cartel, is very upset over this.

In order to receive payment, Street Rat stays at the Beaumount Hotel near Beaumount Park near the end of each month. That’s where you come in. We have already arranged a room for you. You stay at the hotel, and check out after you take care of the Rat.

That’s when Fluttershy realized she had picked up the wrong case!

But as she held the smooth metal of this flute in her hands, she started to feel like she was capable of just about anything. Terrified (she was mostly afraid of the flute’s original owner), but still attracted to the instrument, Fluttershy decided to try and play it. She moved her fingers into position, covered one of the holes, and played a single, shrill note.

Back in Beaumount Park, after the photo shoot was over, Spike felt himself falling under the sway of a musical emanation. It rode on the wind; a thin, high-pitched song with no real pattern to it. It came from a long way away, and it was pleasant to his ears. He stared off for so long, his eyes moving very gradually along the mountains and back again. And as he listened to the refrain, it held him transfixed, so enthralled that had no choice but to follow it.

Ducking into a nearby alley, Spike transformed into his dragon form and took to the sky. Then the Equestrian Dragon spotted the shape of a young woman in the distance. The scaly, hulking monster soared over the forest until he came to the clearing... and Fluttershy shrieked when she saw the Dragon flying overhead and she tumbled from the rock she was sitting on.

Fluttershy’s first impulse was to get up and run—the Dragon was so huge he looked like he could eat her in one bite—but her natural infatuation with nature overpowered her fear. Her blue eyes widened as she gazed at the Equestrian Dragon.

And when the Dragon roared, she listened.

“He sounds just like my flute,” she said.

Was he trying to communicate with her?

The music seemed to have a strange effect on him... as if he was entranced by the sound.

She blew into the flute without covering any of the holes, and the Dragon did loops in the air. She covered a different hole and blew a melancholy tune. When she did, the Dragon landed on the ground in front of her.

“Wow,” was all she could say.

She played a more dramatic tune, and the Equestrian Dragon breathed fire at one of the nearby boulders, melting it into a puddle of molten rock. She tried a more energetic tune and the Dragon flapped his wings so hard that he created a gust of wind so strong that nearly blew the trees over.

Offering his claw to her, Fluttershy cautiously climbed onto the Equestrian Dragon’ back and started playing an elaborate flurry of notes, from tense to whimsical, and then playful. As she played the latter, the Equestrian Dragon started to fly again, and he took her over the forest then the snow-covered peaks of the mountains.

“Well, after this I don’t think I’ll be afraid of falling down the stairs,” she thought.

For a moment, Fluttershy thought she was dreaming. But this was real—and even if she wasn’t, she didn’t want this to end—but she quickly decided that enough was enough and played the melancholy tune again, causing the Dragon to land and let her down on the outskirts of town.

When the Equestrian Dragon flew off, he felt as if he had been in a trance, while the sweet, strange music went on and on, and then suddenly it stopped... and he was left flying dazed with his mind reeling at this new, peculiar feeling.

At the same time, New Canterlot City was being attacked by an army of gigantic black, winged, moth-like bug monsters that began devouring everything in sight--and not just food--buckets, signs, lampposts, the metal support beams of suspension bridges... everything.

Max Raid, the head of New Canterlot City’s pest control squad, had dealt with everything from twittermites to parasprites, but he had never seen anything like this. In the butcher shop, one bug monster gnawed on a wheel of cheese while several others swarmed over sausages and the different varieties of meat on display. Max began to panic, fearing the worst if he couldn’t get these things under control. But no matter how many of them they zapped, capped and trapped, more and more came up in their place. Pretty soon, he and the other exterminators found themselves helpless against the swarm.

Just as they were about to turn and run, they saw someone marching straight toward the mass of monster bugs, and he started to play a few notes as he made a strange adjustment to the valves upon the instrument he was holding.

Black-Forest turned a knob on the end of his flute, lining up a picture of an insect with an arrow on his flute’s shaft. As Black-Forest played an ostinato, the big, black monster bugs started to bounce and sway to the music.

Then as Black-Forest turned and pranced across the bridge, piping an uncanny tune, the bugs followed him in droves, and he led them all out of New Canterlot.

“Didn’t see that comin’,” Applejack said.

“Incredible,” Rarity added.

“Um, what just happened?” Pinkie Pie asked.

Black-Forest dusted his hands and sauntered back to the Mayor’s office.

“I’ve done my job, I have held up my end of the bargain, and now I would like my reward,” he said.

“I don’t remember anything about a reward,” Strider replied.

“My gold,” Black-Forest stated.

The mayor dipped a hand into the money bag that was on his desk and pulled out a handful of shining gold coins, then let them drop back in before taking a single coin, and threw it at Black-Forest, telling him that he would not meet the man’s price.

“Our bargain was for one hundred gold sovereigns,” Black-Forest stated.

“You were serious? All you did was pipe a tune!” Strider replied. “What kind of mayor would I be if I paid you something like that?”

And Black-Forest, who wasn’t too surprised, glowered at him and said, “An honest one!”

“Which you clearly are not,” he added in thought.

“You think you can come in here and bully me?” Strider asked. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with!”

“No, it is you who doesn’t know who he’s dealing with,” Black-Forest replied in kind. “You’re dishonest, you’re ungrateful, and it’s a shame that the youth of this city should grow up to be the same. If I don’t leave here with my money, friend, then I will leave with something else. You will pay me what I am owed or face the consequences.”

Strider thought Black-Forest was bluffing.

In fact, he outright dared the piper to do his worst.

Then he said, “Get out!”

“Very well,” Black-Forest said as he left, while making another adjustment to his flute.

Those who tried to weasel out of their deals with him eventually found his instrument used in another fashion.

Strider would rue the day he refused to pay the Piper.

Later that night, at Sweet Apple Acres, while Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo were having their movie club meeting, Applejack, Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy, Pinkie Pie, Rarity and Sunset Shimmer were discussing what they had seen back on the bridge.

“No one gets paid in gold for an hour’s worth of work!” Dash exclaimed. “It’s not fair!”

“That’s what the Mayor of Haymelin thought about the deal he made with the Pied Piper,” Sunset told them. “Here, let me show you.”

She showed them the book she had been studying out of earlier that day: a leather-bound tome with the year 1284 etched on the cover.

As she opened the book to a picture of a brightly-dressed man and a horde of thousands of rats scurrying across a bridge leading out of a fortified city, Sunset Shimmer began to tell them a tearful tale of woe.

“In 1284, the town of Haymelin, Germaney had a serious rat problem,” she said. “They fought the dogs and killed the cats. But the real rats weren’t the vermin; they were town officials wearing ermine.”

“What’s ermine?” Pinkie inquired.

“A special kind of fur,” Rarity replied. “In the old countries, hundreds of years ago, it was used to trim fancy robes, like the ones the mayor and the town council wore.”

“You mean those officials wore fur?” Fluttershy asked.

“That’s not all they did,” Sunset Shimmer said. “They also made lots of promises... and broke them all.”

“What kinds of promises?” Rainbow Dash asked.

“They promised to repair the broken cobblestones on the streets, plant flowers in the town square, buy books for the schoolhouse, and build a bridge over the river,” Sunset told them. “Of course, to do these things would require a lot of money. But the fat cat politicians spent so much on themselves that there was nothing left to spend on the town. So they raised the taxes... but they raised their own salaries, too. Soon, there was no more money to keep their promises. But that didn’t stop them from making more promises than ever. And those promises sounded so good that the townsfolk never quite caught on.”

Haymelin had been a lovely city by the bay--the food was especially great because it had the finest, very best Germane cuisine cooks--but the mayor and city council were the only ones who thrived... until the day, one summer, when the rats arrived.

To this day, it was still unknown exactly what caused the sudden rodent boom, but soon the town was overrun with rats. They were everywhere: in the houses, in the churches, and the schools, they filled the local marketplace and even private rooms. Open the cupboards, and they would clean them out, eating everything in sight; try to take a bath and the rats would share the tub, they even nested in people’s hats and beds. But the worst of it was that the chefs could not make food to please... because the rodents had eaten all the cheese. When the people tried to chase the rats, the rodents just chased them back. And when they tried to set up traps to catch the rats, they mocked the sad attempts.

Finally, the citizens of Haymelin had had enough.

Frantic with despair that the pests would eventually take over, the people stormed the castle and cried out, “We’ve got to get rid of the rats!”

But alas, the city of Haymelin had a mayor as craven as could be, one who would never, ever accept responsibility. He was more evasive than a bird and, as with any problem, his reaction was the same: “You needn’t find solutions if you find someone to blame.”

The mayor called his advisors as well as the city council, and they huddled to determine just whom to hold responsible for getting rid of the vermin. The mayor explained his goal was not to stop the rats’ assault; instead he needed someone that he could hold completely at fault.

And then one day, a handsome young stranger ventured into the town and decreed that he would get rid of the rats.

No one knew where this man came from, but his glory and fame preceded him. He was a master mercenary and ruthless bounty hunter that had freed many a town by driving out many a pest, but he was also strong and resourceful, not to mention honorable and trustworthy.

The mayor supported the man’s plan, thus putting him in the hot seat... and getting himself off the hook.

Without a single ally, no assistance nor advice, the one called “the Piper” set out to rid the village of the rats. He went to work and the rodents became victims of his musical harangue. He danced around town as he played his catchy tune, and the rats danced from their holes and fell in step behind the Piper.

He led the vermin right out of town, into the river where they drowned, and the people cheered after he had solved their dilemma. But when he returned to the mayor to collect what he had been owed, he found the mayor not inclined to honor any deal. The Piper had been promised gold, but the mayor would not pay his fee... and the other adults laughed at the Piper.

While Sunset Shimmer spoke, the other girls had a scary thought, which led to the story’s startling conclusion: for when the Piper played his Forbidden Concerto he took away the beings that the town would miss the most.

“The Pied Piper went to Haymelin and led the rats away with his magic flute,” Sunset concluded. “But when the mayor wouldn’t pay him, he used the same magic to lure away the children, never to be seen again... and to leave the mayor in horror to face the wrath of the parents for the loss of their children. They were so angry that they ran the mayor out of town, the only time he’d ever taken blame for anything.”

“They never saw their children again?” Fluttershy asked, trying hard to not sob.

“Only three remained: one who was blind, and couldn’t see which way they were going; one who was deaf, and couldn’t hear the music; and one who was lame, and could not keep up,” Sunset stated. “As for what happened to the other children, no one really knows. Some say the Piper drowned them in the river like he did the rats, others believe that he led the children to a wonderful place where the breeze is always gentle, the flowers are always in bloom, and no one is sick, or sad, or hurt anymore.”

“Well, I think it was mean for the Piper to take revenge like that,” Rarity said.

“The townsfolk weren’t too honest, either,” Applejack put in. “They could have made the mayor pay the Piper, but they didn’t.”

The other girls agreed; because of their dishonesty, those people lost something far more valuable than gold: they lost their children and their integrity.

“Either way, it’s a scary thing when kids are led astray by powerful forces,” Pinkie said.

“And now, after 700 years, that evil flute has reappeared once again,” Sunset told them, which led to her telling them another terrifying legend.

She turned the page of the book to the next entry: the Flute of Enchantment.

“Centuries ago, an evil wizard crafted a flute infused with dark magic. Originally a tool for simple extermination, its music caused those unfortunate enough to hear it to fall under the player’s control,” Sunset went on. “It made them do whatever the Piper wanted. And they never knew it. It was useful, but its power was limited... until some sought to use it as a weapon. The Pied Piper’s pipe works on more than just rats or children. With the right tune, one could control almost any animal or thing. Thus, the war for possession of the instrument has raged on.”

“That man at the bus stop, the flute case... it belongs to him,” Fluttershy breathed. “I have one just like it and I picked up his by mistake.”

“That flute... is the very same as the one that belonged to the Pied Piper,” Sunset stated.

“That’s just a fairytale,” Rarity replied dismissively. “Besides, Black-Forest was the one leading those demon insects out of town,” she said. “Why would he offer to help if he was responsible for it in the first place?”

“It’s a scam,” Applejack told her. “His own goons attack then he comes along and pretends to fix the problem.”

“And gets the mayor to pay him off for the trouble he caused,” Rainbow Dash added.

Sure, it sounded like a grand scheme... but it was not true.

It was someone else who had unleashed those insects on New Canterlot City.

Then Dash said, “Wait. If Fluttershy has the Piper’s pipe, then how was he able to control the bugs using Fluttershy’s flute?”

Sunset turned the page again, and showed them another picture of no less than three enchanted wind instruments: a flute, a recorder, and a piccolo.

“There’s more than one...” the girls breathed.

Elsewhere in the city, the Equestrian Dragon frowned as he looked down from the moonlit sky, watching a cloaked figure in the city street below.

Black-Forest’s deep purple cloak billowed as he played “Come Little Children” on his flute. And as he played, several children dropped whatever it was they were doing and turned their heads, while many others stopped doing their evening chores and converged on the streets.

“Don’t listen to him!” the Dragon roared.

But it was no use.

Soon, Black-Forest had gathered up all the children, who danced as they followed him, skipping along an unpaved road into the countryside. So, the Piper played his song, and took the children--each little boy and girl who was younger than twenty--who fell in behind the man, and he led them off to somewhere in the mountains far away. A young woman in a wheelchair, Jinx, lagged behind the others.

Applejack and Rarity stared wide-eyed as their sisters turned as well, before walking off into the dark, with bright, beaming smiles on their faces.

“They’re done for,” Rarity said.

“Not yet!” Applejack replied. “We’re goin’ after ‘em! Come on!”

“We’d need a miracle,” said Sunset.

“We’re in luck,” Fluttershy said. “I just happen know someone who knows a thing or two about getting rid of pests.”

“A thing or two?” Pinkie Pie asked. “Don’t be modest. I know at least a thing or three. Just let us go with you, please-weasie,” she added. “Fear not, dear friends, our pest problems will soon be vanquished!”

The next morning, several police officers responded to a residential burglary call at Cream Heart’s house. She reported that a burglar had broken into her home and stolen quite a few items, including $5,623 in cash and her son’s beeper... not to mention her son, Button Mash, who had also disappeared. All the while, the police dispatcher was getting reports from all over the city of children leaving their homes and following Black-Forest... and Mayor Strider found a ransom note pinned to his office wall with a knife.

“If you want the children back, bring $1,290,000.00 in unmarked bills to Crown Butte.”

They had been abducted.

“That might explain the empty suitcase,” Officer Windstorm said.

“Empty?” Strider exclaimed. “See? That proves it!”

“It does?” Cream Heart asked.

“It does?” Captain Shining Armor repeated.

“It could,” Sergeant Spearhead replied. “You said this suitcase was full with the ransom money before you went to bed last night?” he asked Strider. “And if neither of you took the money... someone else must have.”

Strider groaned while the officers took down the list of stolen items. As they did, Cream Heart jokingly suggested that she call the thief on her son’s beeper and see if he calls back.

“It can’t hurt,” Officer Windstorm said.

“Sure,” Cream Heart, who had nothing to lose by paging the robber, replied.

And six minutes later, her phone started ringing.

Cream Heart looked at the phone, then at Captain Shining Armor and the other officers, and she answered the phone.

“Hello?”

“Yeah, somebody paged me to this number,”

Cream Heart, recognizing the voice on the other end as Black-Forest’s, looked towards the police and mouthed, “It’s him!”

“Um, somebody paged you from this number. My son must have called. And, uh, he’s in the shower right now. Could you call back in a few minutes? Thank you.” Cream Heart laughed after she hung up and said, “That was him!”

“You wouldn’t happen to have a caller ID by any chance, would you?” Spearhead asked.

“Yes!” Cream Heart proclaimed.

The police looked at the caller ID device, and the crook’s number came up. They relayed the information to the dispatcher, who got an address on the phone number, and sent units to the robber’s location: a payphone near Crown Butte.

“I feel better already,” Strider remarked as he walked out to his car.

“Why didn’t you just pay him like you said you would?” Vignette asked him.

“Lesson number one: if you want to make it in this cutthroat world, don’t ever keep your word,” Strider stated.

Vehicles carrying Mayor Strider, Vignette Valencia, Cream Heart, Captain Shining Armor, Sergeant Spearhead, Officer Windstorm, and the parents and older siblings of the kidnapped teenagers and preteens zoomed along the empty road. All they had to do was follow the flute music. And they did... all the way to the deserted citadel ruins at Crown Butte.

Ducking under low branches, the mob, led by the police officers, approached the murky clearing, where they found Black-Forest standing, leaning against a hollow oak tree.

“Well, do you have my money?” he asked.

“Where are the children?” Shining Armor demanded.

Black-Forest looked back toward the citadel ruins behind him and the children emerged, completely unharmed. Shining Armor then nodded to Vignette Valencia, who slowly carried the mayor’s suitcase to Black-Forest, who opened it.

“Empty,” he said.

“There’s been a change in plans,” Mayor Strider replied.

“Black-Forest, you are under arrest for kidnapping and racketeering,” Spearhead said.

“I just want what I am owed,” Black-Forest stated.

“You scoundrel!” the Mayor shouted.

“Better to be a scoundrel than a cheat!” Black-Forest countered.

“You were overcharging!” the Mayor told him. Strider turned toward the crowd of parents and police officers and asked them, “Is it honest for someone to expect one hundred gold pieces for an hour’s worth of work?”

Most of them didn’t think so.

“Is it honest for this man to make a promise and then break it?” Black-Forest asked.

“No,” Cream Heart replied, “but he always does that.”

It was true. Strider never once kept his word, and it didn’t hurt him one bit... until now.

The people glared at their mayor, who looked away worriedly.

“It is up to you, the people who elect your leaders, to make sure that they keep their word,” Black-Forest told them, “or it is you who will face the consequences.”

But even now, Strider refused to pay Black-Forest what he had promised because the mayor assumed that getting rid of monsters would be a difficult job, but Black-Forest did it with almost no effort at all... thanks to a magic that Strider didn’t know the man possessed. Then Strider claimed that Black-Forest tricked him into agreeing to pay a disproportionate amount for something that it turned out took very little effort.

And Black-Forest said, “Regardless, we had a deal and I lived up to my end. Highly qualified specialists are expensive for a reason. If you don’t pay one way, you’ll pay another.”

Black-Forest’s purple cloak billowed as the children he had “kidnapped”, mostly young girls--including Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo--stood between him and the police.

That’s when everyone realized that this wasn’t just simple mind control – these children had not been robbed of their free will – they had simply gathered around to listen. The Pied Piper grew stronger as more individuals gathered around him, which supercharged his power to near unstoppable levels... and that made him even more dangerous.

As the last child, the girl in the wheelchair, positioned herself directly in front of Black-Forest, while the other children stood at his sides, and some even shielded him from potential attackers that thought they could sneak up from behind him, Rainbow Dash forced her way to the front of the crowd and shouted, “You think you’re tough hiding behind a bunch of kids?”

“I don’t need the children,” Black-Forest replied. “I’m not a monster. Go.”

Reluctantly, the children returned to their parents.

“For the last time, will you honor our agreement?” Black-Forest asked Strider.

“No,” the Mayor answered.

“Then we’re done talking,” Black-Forest stated.

He wasn’t leaving without his payment, and it was painfully obvious that was willing to fight for it. So, Fluttershy rose to meet his challenge.

Smiling, Black-Forest watched as Fluttershy stepped forward, lifted his flute to her lips and blew into it as hard as she could, playing the energetic tune from before, and the Equestrian Dragon suddenly appeared from the clouds and landed between her and Black-Forest.

Then the Equestrian Dragon opened one of his claws and dropped several wads of cash bundled up in rubber bands in front of the man.

“What’s all that?” Rainbow Dash asked.

“It looks to me like exactly one million two-hundred ninety thousand dollars in unmarked bills,” said Pinkie Pie.

“The ransom money,” Cream Heart thought. “He took it.”

“Did you see that?” Strider asked the police. “She’s controlling that beast!”

Oh, they were seeing it... but they did not believe it.

“Get me that flute!” Strider shouted.

Fluttershy quickly played the dramatic tune again, and the Equestrian Dragon breathed fire at the police officers, forcing them to scatter, and causing Mayor Strider’s pants to fall down as he tumbled into a heap of dry leaves.

“Hers is bigger,” Rarity told Black-Forest.

“You fools, even after all these centuries, you still don’t get it,” Black-Forest snarled. “It’s not the pipe, it’s the piper!”

Furious, Black-Forest pulled the two halves of his backup flute, the size of a piccolo, from the holsters on his hips and assembled the instrument. Brandishing it menacingly, he lined up a picture of a dog with the arrow on the miniature flute’s shaft, raised it to his lips, and started to play his own lively melody.

It became a duel!

He started out with the classic children’s folksong, “Bingo Was His Name-O”, which gave him control of the police department’s K-9 units, causing them to fight the Equestrian Dragon for him; while Fluttershy played “Mary Had A Little Lamb”, and Black-Forest answered with “Turkey In The Straw”, and then “Home On The Range”.

“Now, what tune controls dragons?” Black-Forest thought.

He started to play “I Wish It Would Rain Down”, which summoned clouds and literally brought lightning down on the Equestrian Dragon, and said, “That’s not it.”

While Black-Forest played, Rainbow Dash ran and leaped at him, Black-Forest kept on playing. He played a brand-new tune, which caused Rainbow Dash, Applejack, Rarity and Sunset Shimmer to break dance—they only stopped dancing when Black-Forest stopped playing—and he only stopped playing to dodge Pinkie Pie, who assaulted him with bagels, pies, cupcakes and rolls, which she pulled from her hair... but they had absolutely no effect on him.

He was nearly invulnerable.

“Just give up,” Black-Forest said to Fluttershy.

Running out of edible ammo, Pinkie reached into her hair and pulled out kazoo and an accordion... and she started to play a polka.

That’s when Black-Forest recoiled and held his ears in pain.

However, when Black-Forest’s music-controlled animal minions attacked the Equestrian Dragon, the fight quickly became one-sided, as the Dragon easily broke through any attack Black-Forest used, utilizing his own powers while also roaring like a wild animal to scare him, which succeeded. The Equestrian Dragon’s lungs could breathe fire, his scales dissolved flames, and the angrier the Dragon got, the more intense his own fire became. His fire was becoming so strong that it was superheating the air around him.

“Impossible!” Black-Forest shouted. “How are you even standing?”

“A dragon has many fangs,” the Dragon replied.

Using his tail, the Dragon knocked Black-Forest’s piccolo from his hand, and it rolled until it stopped at Rainbow Dash’s feet.

“Dude, you’ve piped your last tune,” she stated.

Dash and Applejack were about to play Black-Forest a final concerto with their fists when he reached into his cloak and pulled out a handheld crossbow. One that, instead of arrows, shot sharp knives shaped like boomerangs.

But he didn’t point at them. Instead, he fired behind them, and the curved blade pierced the ground close to Mayor Strider, who had crawled over to the pile of ransom money in a vain attempt to retrieve it.

“Go ahead... take my pay,” Black-Forest dared him.

Strider slowly crawled away, his pants still around his ankles.

Black-Forest collected the money then he gave Fluttershy her flute... and she gave his flutes back to him. It was a civil exchange, now they both had their original instruments back.

“The mayor hired me to get rid of one pest,” he said. “He didn’t say which pest.”

Using his dragon fist, the Equestrian Dragon squeezed Black-Forest, hoisted him up so that he was level with the Dragon’s eyes, and the Dragon growled, “Take the money. But understand this: if you mess with me or this city again, you’re gonna get burned.”

Black-Forest nodded and the Equestrian Dragon, using his dragon breath, blew the man formerly known as the Pied Piper of Haymelin far away into the distance... and the money he was owed right along with him.

Then the Equestrian Dragon, his claws wrapped in flames, took Fluttershy’s flute, bent it, and shoved it up Mayor Strider’s ass!

The Equestrian Dragon turned toward the crowd and roared, “Let this be a reminder to all of you: those who don’t keep their promises usually end up paying a higher price for dishonor than they would otherwise!”

And he flew away in a cloud of black smoke before the police could apprehend him.

Later, the police department tried to make sense of the whole situation, but the mayor’s office had it chucked up to the people suffering from “some sort of mass hysteria”.

As for Mayor Strider himself, Nurse Redheart, Nurse Tenderheart, Nurse Snowheart, and no less than three doctors—basically, the senior medical staff members at the New Canterlot City Hospital that were on Spike Zenith’s payroll—all attempted to remove Fluttershy’s flute from Strider’s ass. They tried for hours... but to no avail.

Never has a man had so much trouble sitting down... or using a toilet.

And as for the parents of the children who had followed the Pied Piper, they said that if they listened carefully, they could still hear the Black-Forest’s flute music in the wind... especially at night.

Clouds roiled around the body of the sleek twin-engine jet as it swooped down through the skies over Equestria. Below, a sprawl of miniature buildings caught in a web of thread-sized highways had begun to grow into an imposing cityscape as the airplane started its slow approach to the Kenneighdy International Airport. Inside, a man in a first-class seat spoke on a cellular phone as he gazed out the small window then absently thumbed through the latest issue of Fortune & Success magazine, the one with strikingly attractive Spike Zenith on the cover. Unlike Spike, this man appeared to be in his late twenties, smartly dressed, ruggedly handsome, with compelling brown eyes, dark hair and beard, a silver watch on his left wrist.

But it wasn’t Spike’s cover shot the man was looking at. He was more taken by the bikini photo shoot in the newest issue of Equestria Weekly, of a young woman named Fluttershy... and comparing it to the sketch he had of a woman who looked very similar to her: Bella Breeze.

“We should be touching down any minute now,” he said. “It’ll be good to see you again.”

On the other end of the connection, Lepiota preened before a small mirror.

“You too,” she answered. “And don’t worry about a thing. We’ll clear up these old problems. Don’t forget... you’ve got a big, important underworld sorceress on your side.”

The man on the plane stared at the sketch of Bella Breeze and Fluttershy’s pictures and touched them gently with the tips of his fingers as he spoke.

“I can’t believe it’s been over a thousand years,” he murmured with a sigh.

“So... thinking of looking up some old friends?” she asked suspiciously after a moment of silence. The heartiness in her voice sounded forced. “Or their possible descendants...?”

The man frowned as he tilted his head, gazing raptly down at the city swelling beneath him. Then he shook his head as if coming out of a nightmare.

“Lepiota, don’t start that again,” he said, dropping the magazines into the pocket of the seat in front of him. “She’s... ancient history.”

“That’s encouraging,” Lepiota replied, relaxed and happy again. “I’ll see you soon.”

She hung up the phone, blew herself a kiss in the mirror, and went off to prepare for the man’s arrival. Meanwhile, the man pocketed the sketch and his portable phone and raised his head when the stewardess appeared at the front of the cabin.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the young woman said, including the man in question, with her professional smile. “Please fasten your seat belts. We are beginning our descent into Equestria.”

The man obediently checked his seat belt then turned back to the window and watched as the great city rose to meet him.

Looking For Friends

The Dragon Council met on the peak of Mount Umber, high above the Cave of Destiny, deep within the Mountains of Terror, located on Dragon Isle. Made up of elders from each dragon species, they were the representatives for the troglodyte Squamata Order and all of the reptilian humanoid guilds, clans, and hordes.

No dragon ever spoke of the horrors that supposedly went on up there... because aside from the members of the Dragon Council, no dragon ever came back. There were even rumors that they once made a dragon bite off, and eat, his own tongue.

As well as the current Dragon Lord Torch and his daughter Princess Ember, the Council’s members included Poseadus, Blacktip, Caldera, Scintilla, Gnash, Gostir, Razer, Knuckerbocker, Ignox, Obserno, Deliriam, and Orrm Chillheart.

This meeting was to be the first of many that would change Spike’s future forever.

“That idiotic Equestrian Dragon has done it again!” Caldera shouted. “This time, he destroyed half a city!”

“What is the matter with him?” Gnash shouted.

“Honestly, now!” Gostir added.

“He may be a fool, but we mustn’t forget he is a dragon capable of extraordinary talents and abilities,” Knuckerbocker reminded them.

“Yes, he presents quite the quandary,” Blacktip put in.

“I guess you take the good with the bad,” Poseadus remarked.

“Indeed,” Orrm agreed.

The other council members nodded.

“Personally, I’m quite fond of Spike and his Laissez-faire attitude,” Ember said honestly. “I say we should leave him be... for now. After all, think how boring life would be without him.”

It was 2:00 a.m. in the caves beneath Pendragon Castle as the Equestrian Dragon sat in front of a U-shaped desk crammed with stacks of CDs and other equipment. On three computer screens, ribbons of bright green symbols flickered on the monitors and streamed down in columns of rapidly changing code. As they descended, numbers dropped away while images reflected off the Dragon’s scales. A green cursor blinked on one screen and words typed out:

Call trans opt: received. 8-25-98 13:24:18 REC:Log>

Trace program: running...

Somewhere in New Canterlot City, a telephone rang and the Equestrian Dragon tapped into Spoiled Rich’s online call, with her appearing on one side of his computer screen while another portion read, “Acid Burn” but instead of a picture it showed sound waves.

“You are a brilliant business partner, but remind me why we call these things ‘video’ conferences,” Spoiled Rich said.

“As we have discussed, it’s in everyone’s best interest my identity remain hidden,”

“Is everything in place?” Spoiled Rich asked. “We’re coming up on our deadline. I need to know your status. I need to know if you’re ready.”

“Look, I wouldn’t have flown out here if I wasn’t ready. Now where’s my money?”

“Don’t worry about the money,” Spoiled Rich said. “Where do we meet?”

“That’s right,” the Equestrian Dragon thought out loud. “Give me something.”

“Tonight, 7:00 p.m., at the Central Mall. The lingerie shop,”

“We’ve got a lot riding on this. I’ve put my trust in you--wait a minute. Did you hear that?” Spoiled Rich asked. “Someone’s logged on to our video conference!”

“You are an amateur! I’m outta here!”

Suddenly, the bars of bright green code disappeared from the Equestrian Dragon’s computer screens and they went blank.

Then words typed out: U HAVE TREAD UPON MY DOMAIN & MUST NOW SUFFER

“What the Tartarus?” the Equestrian Dragon thought.

He glared at the main screen as a new message appeared:

WHO R U ?

The Equestrian Dragon typed: WHO WANTS TO KNOW?

A new message typed out a name:

ACID BURN

“Unbelievable,” the Equestrian Dragon said as he glared at the screen.

The Dragon continued typing as another message appeared:

LEAVE B 4 U R EXPUNGED

“Okay, you want to go?” the Equestrian Dragon asked. “Let’s go!”

I WILL SWAT U LIKE THE FLY U R

The Equestrian Dragon typed furiously, countering the hacker’s attacks.

I WILL SNAP YOUR BACK LIKE A TOOTHPICK

“That’s right,” he said. “Chase me.”

A little over one minute of digital combat and his computer had back-tracked the invader’s source and locked in a touch-tone telephone number.

“You are terminated,” the Dragon said. “You mess with the best, die like the rest.”

Finally, he pressed the Escape key and kicked Acid Burn out of his system.

“Have fun gettin’ out of that wormhole,” he stated.

But just to be on the safe side, the Dragon used the tried-and-true method known as “the Ostrich Defense”: he unplugged his monitors.

Meanwhile, in a dark corridor in an apartment complex somewhere in the Equestrian state of Ohayo, a hefty policeman trained his gun sight on a closed door as he advanced past dangling wires and debris. A second police officer wielding a flashlight nodded to several other cops behind him, each wielding a handgun with an attached flashlight.

One of them ran at the door and kicked it open. “Police! Freeze!”

Inside, a woman with long, scarlet hair and soulless eyes sat at a desk with a computer, the screen of which went dark.

“Hands on your head! Now!”

Her back to them, the hacker, wearing a yellow-green latex body suit, slowly raised her hands and did as she was told.

As one of the officers moved in to handcuff her, the hacker spun around, grabbed the man’s arm, and broke it. She leapt up then kicked the cop in the chest, while she was still in midair, sending him flying across the room. As the others opened fire, she ran sideways across the wall! She wrapped one cop’s arm around her body and fired his weapon at another cop. Then she kicked her leg over her shoulder and dropped the officer behind her.

At the same time, outside, police cars blocked the street.

The sign on the building above them read Road Inn.

“We interrupt the regularly scheduled program to bring you this special news bulletin.”

“We have late-breaking news from the southeast part of the state. We go to our field correspondent Cold Copy,”

“Thanks, Marshy. We have just learned that federal officials have been alerted to a new terrorist group that threatens the entire planet. The group, aptly called the Twisted 60, are a group of renegades from all over the world who forge documents as well as steal art and hack computers. Officials have informed us that their leader is in the building right behind me,”

Suddenly, a black Sedan pulled up and three Federal agents dressed in identical black suits, black neckties and earpieces, stepped out. Their eyes hidden behind dark rectangular sunglasses, they marched past the police barricade and approached the officer in charge.

“Lieutenant, you were given specific orders,” Bishop, the lead agent, a man with a long, dark ponytail, said.

“I sent two units,” the officer replied. “They’re bringing her down now.”

“No, Lieutenant, those men are already dead,” Bishop replied.

A few minutes later, inside the hotel, one of the black-suited agents, a big man named Castle (who was Bishop’s second-in-command), stepped out of the elevator and Acid Burn took off down the hallway, toward the fire escape. Spotting another agent, named Knight, in the alley below, she climbed up to the roof. Agent Castle bounded up the ladder after her as she raced across the rooftop. She leapt the gap between the buildings--a good ten feet--and Agent Castle took the same leap in stride, followed by five police officers. One jumped short, landing on the ledge before pulling himself up.

Acid Burn sprinted across the rooftops, keeping ahead of Agent Castle, who pulled out his gun and took aim at her. He fired three shots, all of which missed her, blowing chunks of brick from one of the nearby chimneys. Acid Burn raced across the roof and leapt off the edge. Pumping her legs, she rose into the air, jumped (practically flew) over a two-lane street, and the cops watched as Castle made the same impossible leap.

Castle landed on the neighboring rooftop, his gun at the ready, as Acid Burn hid behind a wall. Castle cocked his weapon as Acid Burn scanned the roof, and then ran to the far edge. Stretching out her arms, she flew over the open lot below, straight as an arrow, and crashed through a window of the next building.

Acid Burn tumbled down a staircase and whipped out two pistols as she landed on her back. She got up then ran outside, spotting a nearby telephone booth as a speeding garbage truck skidded into a turn. The truck stopped, its tires squealing and its headlights trained on the phone booth. The tires began to spin again as Acid Burn dashed to the phone booth and grabbed the receiver at the same moment the garbage truck plowed the booth into the brick wall behind it.

The truck backed up, debris tumbling from its bumper. Then Agent Bishop stepped out of the driver’s side and gazed at the destroyed phone booth through his dark sunglasses as his two subordinates, Knight and Castle, walked up behind him.

“She got away,” Knight said.

“Doesn’t matter,” Bishop replied. “The Twisted 60 is real... and we have the name of their next target. Get a search running.”

“It’s already underway,” Castle answered.

Back at Filthy Rich’s estate, the family butler, Randolph, asked, “What happened?”

“Someone was watching,” Spoiled Rich replied.

“We’d better find out whom that someone is,” Randolph suggested.

In the morning, Lemony Crumble carried a breakfast tray into Spike’s bedroom, and was disappointed when he saw the master’s dragon-sized bed had not been slept in.

As Lemony walked through the castle, he saw that Twinkleworks had set out clean towels and Tote Bag stocked the fridge in the main kitchen. Meanwhile, Celestia and Luna were sitting at the kitchen table, reading the New Canterlot Gazette and the New Canterlot Chronicle respectively. As they read, Lemony Crumble skimmed the headlines, which read Dragon Eludes Police and TROUBLE IN PARADISE... Rise in Gang Violence Coming to An End?

“The Landfill trailer park is a scarred battlefield today after giant explosions tore through the complex. Preliminary reports suggest that a few trailers housing illegal drug labs were behind the damage. Witnesses say members of Legerdemain’s Ravens were seen in the area, trading gunfire with the Equestrian Dragon shortly before the explosions began. However, it’s unclear if they had anything to do with the explosions at this time.”

When the two sisters looked up from the articles, Lemony informed them that he could not find Mr. Zenith, and they joined him in his hunt for Spike. They eventually found him, wearing his green bathrobe, sitting out in the greenhouse for his roses, trying (and failing) to listen to yet another of Honey Belle’s pitches.

Honey Belle had started out at Zenith Industries as a summer intern, and frankly wasn’t one of Spike’s best employees, but even though she had the body of a stripper (and was one before working for Spike), deep down she had a good heart.

“Spike, wake up,” she said.

He blinked, shifting his emerald eyes to Honey Belle, as he lifted his head.

“What do you want?” he asked, like he hadn’t been listening to one word she had said.

“As I was saying, it’s a maid-service franchise that hires hot maids and only uses eco-friendly products,” she explained.

“Just one question: where are you going to find beautiful women who want to clean toilets?” he asked. “Human males have been looking for that for centuries... and failed.”

“You give me ten thousand dollars and I give you the logo, the cleaning supplies and the short skirts. It’s a no-brainer,” Honey Belle said.

“Yeah, it’s a no-brainer because I already own the male equivalent of that concept. It’s called Grunts For Hire,” he said. “It’s run by a former Hooviet gangster-turned-mercenary who volunteered for some physical enhancements in a secret lab deep in the Amarezon jungle... Now he’s a certified repairman.”

“You’re kidding,”

“No. Hardcore felon, twelve years behind bars for grand theft auto, repeat offender, the whole ten yards,” Spike said.

“So, he’s good-looking, not afraid of commitment, and always drives a nice new car?”

“That’s what you got out of that?” Spike asked. “Get out! Oh, and one more thing: I don’t appreciate you walking around my nice clean greenhouse in those dirty old boots. Take ‘em off and leave ‘em here.”

“But, my feet--”

“The boots, Honey Belle, now,”

And Honey Belle, not wanting to risk violating her probation, shrugged as she reluctantly removed her footwear, thus forcing herself to walk out barefoot.

After Honey Belle had left, Celestia took the serving tray from Lemony Crumble—which included four scrambled eggs, several plump, succulent pork sausages, and a dozen strips of glistening, sizzling honey-smoked bacon—took it into the greenhouse, and served it to Spike.

“You seem distracted,” Luna, who accompanied her sister inside, began.

That was an understatement.

The human Equestrian Dragon looked terrible.

After dropping six burglars, nine car thieves, twenty-one muggers, eleven kidnappers, five international terrorists, and one voodoo occultist into police custody this week, he was tired.

“Can this wait until both my eyes are open, please?” he asked.

When Spike noticed Luna’s hand near his portable CD player, he slammed his fist down on the table, shaking it.

“Don’t touch that,” he stated. “It’s part of my therapy.”

“Spike, calm thyself,” Luna said as she carefully raised the headphones to her ears.

But when she put them on... she heard nothing but static.

“White noise,” Spike said quietly. “It clears the mind of everything.”

“When did you go to bed?” Celestia inquired.

“Never did,” Spike replied, taking a sip from his cocoa mug. “I was working.”

“You were up all night again? How much cocoa have you had this morning?”

“Five, not counting this one,” he said, pointing to the cup in his hand.

Celestia and Luna had never experienced Spike without his morning cocoa.

It was like sailing into uncharted water.

“I didn’t get any sleep last night. I was too afraid to have the nightmare again,”

Celestia asked, “Which one this time?”

“The one where I was forced to fight in the Romane Colosseum, and, after winning the crowd, they keep chanting, ‘Dra-gon! Dra-gon! Dra-gon! Dra-gon! Dra-gon!’” he said. “I’ve also met our new terrorist. She targets computers. Not sure why. But she has a jetpack and laser technology like nothing I’ve ever seen.”

Equestria had endured much through its dark history, but even the changes wrought by the Neighsay administration couldn’t give the country a fresh start—the grime was in its DNA.

The E.B.I. had been sweating terrorists hacking into the nation’s power grid distribution software. That could shut down half the country. Criminals didn’t always wear colorful costumes; some just skulked in the shadows with sinister plots and evil intentions. The latest batch Spike had encountered was a group of radicals known as the “Twisted 60”. And their self-appointed leader, Acid Burn, was able to defeat almost all forms of network security.

Though they had made an attempt to bomb Zenith Industries and the World Trade Center in 1993--and were certainly on the public’s radar--radical terrorist groups were not the threat du jour. It was mostly homegrown militias, religious cults and other domestic nutcases. The Equestrian Dragon’s own network had been under attack and steps had to be taken to insure no future incursions. Spike had already shut down the auxiliary transmitter and disconnected all the receivers from all the tech linked to Zenith Industries. If the Twisted 60 were able to access any of his computers--if Acid Burn were to somehow, someway, be able to trace the signals back to the Equestrian Dragon’s cave--there was no telling how much damage she, or they, could do.

“Can we cut the electricity to his cave so he’ll sleep normal hours?” Celestia asked Luna as they followed Spike from the greenhouse and back into Pendragon Castle. “He’s been playing with his computer all night for a solid week.”

Luna whispered something into Celestia’s ear.

“No, he could not be playing with himself,” Celestia said.

Luna whispered something else.

“Fine, I’ll ask. Spike! You like females, don’t you?” Celestia asked.

“Last time I checked,” he retorted. “I just haven’t found one as charming as you yet.”

“You haven’t been doing anything stupid, right?” she asked him.

“Right, Mom. And I’m still a virgin!”

Spike locked himself in his study, leaving the sisters muttering under their breath.

“Do people react that way because you’re such a delight, or do you just have that effect on them?” Spike’s next appointment, who had been waiting for him, asked.

“I like to think it’s me,” Spike admitted.

Soarin smirked in amusement.

A male member of the Equestrian States Air Force Air Demonstration Squadron more popularly known as the Wonderbolts, Soarin was an elite pilot with a fondness for apple pie. When he wasn’t flying, he served as a military police officer who was always on the lookout for the next domestic threat to Equestria’s security.

That’s why he was there. On loan from ESAF Captain Spitfire Flare, Soarin had arrived in New Canterlot City to help Spike investigate the circumstances surrounding another Air Force pilot whose body had been found in an alley a few days ago, covered in cuts and bruises.

Police Chief Ganache had dismissed it as a territorial dispute between the city’s gangs, a message from one group to another. But Spike had come to believe that the motive for the brutal killing was identity theft... and his suspicions were confirmed when he learned that there had been no less than three murders around New Canterlot City over the last month with the same pattern and even though the young military aviator was dead, no one had been reported missing, which led Spike to believe that the imposter was still in the area.

But the human Equestrian Dragon told Soarin that, after interrogating five potential suspects, he had nothing... nothing solid, at least.

“Drew lied,” Spike said. “He paused and looked to his left. That usually means the response is fabricated. If he would’ve looked to the right, he would be recalling a memory.”

“Why would he lie?” Soarin asked.

“You mean about his age? Why do some people lie about being married? Why do others lie about their level of education?” Spike replied, almost philosophically. “Everybody has something to lie about.”

“I knew a guy who spent a couple of tours on attack subs before he was dishonorably discharged,” Soarin shared. “The Feds think he and this other guy were part of some small cell of radical eco-freaks.”

“This one’s definitely an eco-terrorist,” Spike confirmed. “Looking for retribution for the dolphins I’ve trained to detect underwater mines.”

For over one hundred years, Spike had helped the Equestrian government to train and deploy animals as espionage agents. Starting in the Civil War, carrier pigeons delivered messages from the front lines.

But even if these murders weren’t the Twisted 60’s doing, the Equestrian Dragon still needed to track them down and stop them.

“Go back and report to Captain Spitfire,” Spike said. “I don’t know if there’s much that you can do here.”

“I’ll leave as soon as I’m done, not before,” Soarin told him.

As chill as Soarin usually was, there was no point in arguing with him.

That’s when Spike noticed the red light blinking on his desk phone’s answering machine.

He pressed play and the machine said, “You have one new message...”

“Spike, it’s Rainbow Dash, are we still on for this weekend? Even if we’re not, could you at least call me back so that I know you got this message? Talk later, dude.”

Spike groaned, having forgotten, as Soarin inquired, “What does she look like?”

Spike asked, “Who?”

“Rainbow Dash,” Soarin said. “She sounds cute.”

“Not your type,” Spike stated.

“How would you know that?”

Spike leveled his gaze at Soarin and said, very seriously, “Have you ever had even the slightest urge to tattoo your buttocks, soldier?”

“No, sir,”

“Then we need never speak of her again,”

At that same moment, the aforementioned young woman was running her fingers through her hair as she used the showers in the girls’ locker room at New Canterlot University.

“Oh, no,” Rainbow Dash groaned.

“What is it?” Applejack, who was standing at one of the sinks, asked.

“I was daydreaming and now I can’t remember if I washed my hair or not,” Dash replied.

“So wash it again,” Applejack said.

“I can’t because if I shampooed already and do it again, my hair’s gonna be fluffy,”

“So don’t wash it again,”

“Well, what if I didn’t wash it? Then it’s gonna be too oily. This is important, like the time Rarity didn’t want to go outside because she thought her haircut made her butt look fat,”

“Can ya handle Apple Bloom’s sleepover this weekend?” Applejack asked.

“Jackie, tell me honestly. If some guy, out of the blue, called me up and asked me out on a date, you think I should go?”

“What’s that got to do with--?”

“Look, I wish I could, but Spike invited me to play golf,” Dash explained.

“Ya don’t golf,” Applejack said. “And Spike never asked ya out, ya liar. Ya’re watching my sister and her friends!”

Rainbow Dash sighed as she looked at her friend, and very sincerely asked, “Jackie, when was the last time I spent an evening alone with another consenting human being?”

And Applejack, after a moment of thought, answered, “I can’t remember.”

“Neither can I,” Dash said. “See ya.”

“Ya’re stayin’!”

“Okay... that’ll be 28 bucks,”

“Twenty-eight bucks?!” Applejack shouted.

“Per hour,” Dash said as she shampooed. “Babysitters don’t come cheap, and I have experience. You want my skill, you pay my bill.”

Just then, Pinkie Pie suddenly appeared and said, “I can do it. Oh, let me do it. Let me do it. I’m responsible.”

“I appreciate yer enthusiasm, but I asked Rainbow Dash,” Applejack replied.

Applejack flushed one of the toilets, and Rainbow Dash—still in the shower and unprepared for the water’s sudden increase in temperature—screamed in pain and shouted, “Yow! Why do you find that so funny?”

“I don’t,” Applejack stated in reply. “That’s for tattooin’, ‘For the time of your life, call Twilight Sparkle’, on yer ass.”

To make a long story short (too late), after a night of drinking no less than seven snakebite shooters--equal parts lager and hard cider served in a shot glass--Rainbow Dash woke up in Shining Armor’s bed... with that message tattooed on her left butt cheek.

“I don’t know who I thought was gonna see it, but it seemed like a funny idea at the time,” Dash admitted.

Applejack reached for the flusher again.

“Don’t even think about it!” Dash shouted.

But Applejack flushed the toilet again anyway.

Later, Pinkie enjoyed a brunch of jalapeño omelets, apple spice muffins, and a cup of red velvet tea with her sister Maud, a 31-year-old geologist whose face was as expressive as the average slab of granite. She had heard the stories about Spike through her sister, Pinkie. Of course, she didn’t believe that even half of them were true.

“The cave is actually much deeper than anyone thought,” Maud said. “The geological conditions are perfect for the formation of diamonds.”

“You mean there’s diamonds on Spike’s land?” Pinkie asked.

“And rubies and gold. Lots of them,” Maud stated matter-of-factly.

Meanwhile, Rarity, who had been listening in on their conversation from a few tables away, was joined by her own sister, Sweetie Belle, and Sweetie’s new boyfriend, Lickety Split.

“Rarity, I’m here!”

“I see that,” Rarity replied.

“And she brought a boy with her,” she added in thought. “He’s super hot, too!”

“Well, hello there,” Rarity flirted.

“I’m so stupid! I can’t believe I just hit on my own sister’s boyfriend!”

As Sweetie Belle and Lickety Split approached Frying Pan, who was manning the omelet station at the bar, Rarity couldn’t understand how Sweetie Belle got such a cute guy.

“Come to think of it, her last boyfriend was good-looking, too,” she thought. “And the one before that, and the one before that, and the one before him, even... No. She can’t be more popular than me. I’m taller and so much prettier. My breasts are bigger, too, at least a little!”

And while Rarity was pondering that, Lickety Split said, “By the way, Sweetie Belle, your sister is, like, really pretty.”

Sweetie Belle suddenly stopped short, her back to him.

“Did I upset you?” he asked.

When Sweetie Belle turned to face him, she replied, “I’m fine. I’m just proud of my older, prettier, more successful big sister, that’s all. Did I mention that she’s older, prettier and more successful than me?”

Feeling like he’d just stepped on a metaphorical landmine, Lickety quickly threw his arms around her in a tight embrace and said, “Don’t worry! She’s nothing compared to you!”

“Thank you,” Sweetie Belle snickered.

The rest of brunch passed in uncomfortable silence until Sweetie Belle said that she and her classmates were headed to the River Market for the day.

“Bye then,” Lickety Split said as he left. “I’ll see you later.”

“So, it turns out you’re pretty popular with the boys,” Rarity observed. “Are you ever going to narrow it down to just one?”

“Oh, I will, eventually,” Sweetie Belle replied. “I’m not in any rush, though. After all, when I think about it, I’m still a child. I’ve never known true love, not really. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy being lavished with all the attention I never got as a child, because of you. I like it when boys say they like me, or that I’m pretty, or buy me name-brand merchandise for no real reason other than the fact that they can.”

“All this and still a child, too!” Rarity thought bitterly.

Inky Quills did not like the looks of this.

The Shutterbugs—Press Release, Tracy Flash, Snappy Scoop, Action Shot, Big Shot and Eff Stop—were all gathered around a single desk in one corner of the room at the New Canterlot Gazette. Worse than that, they all smiled when Quills walked in. He knew that hungry kind of smile—wolves always hunted in packs.

“Well, well, welcome, Count Dracolta!” Snappy Scoop shouted jovially.

“Had any Sasquatch sightings lately?” Big Shot asked.

“Hey, Quills, they buried your story on the Dragon,” Eff Stop confided with a smirk.

“That’s what they do to garbage,” Tracy Flash agreed.

Inky wasn’t going to let the litter of the Gazette get him down.

“Hey, Quills, Quills, we got something for you!” Press Release called sweetly.

She held up a drawing of a monster, an awful, fanged snake face sitting on top of a human man’s body in a pinstripe suit. The caption above read: “Have You Seen This Man?”

Tracy, Snappy and the other photographers thought it was the funniest damn thing that had ever happened in the news office.

“Very nice, very funny,” Quills replied, grinning, wishing they could come up with something more original. “You should have put more gore under the fangs, though.”

He turned to walk into his office then stopped just outside his door. There was somebody already in there; a woman with a nice figure, nice outfit, and nice black hair. With nice legs resting on his desk, she was leaning back in his swivel chair, pouring over a copy of the Gazette.

“I’m reading your stuff,” she informed him.

“And I’m reading yours,” he replied, glancing at an oversized camera bag on the corner of his desk.

It had a set of monogrammed initials: “N. N.”

The woman stood up, offered her hand and Quills took it.

She had a firm, no-nonsense handshake.

“I’m Nosey News,” she said.

“Nosey News... Nosey News...” Quills searched his memory. He knew that name from somewhere. “You wrote that article on teen drug addicts last year.”

“Yeah, I did,” she said, quite surprised.

She was also the woman who had faked photographic evidence of the “Pigasus”, an animal with the body of a pig and the wings of a bird.

Nosey reached into her camera bag and pulled out a small portfolio of photos—combat photos. Guerillas in hiding, an exploding Jeep, government troops torching the peasants’ homes, bodies stacked like firewood... Inky leafed through them quickly.

Her photos showed the faces of war and packed an emotional punch. This was a woman who wasn’t afraid to get close to the action, not at all like the fashion plates he saw day after day.

“A girl could get hurt doing this kind of stuff,” he said in admiration. “But what are you doing here?”

It was Nosey’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “I’m here to see some of the wildlife.”

“Wildlife? Like what?”

She pointed down at the papers scattered across Quills’ desk. Papers filled with facts, speculation, false starts, and poorly drawn doodles of his obsession.

“The Dragon,” she said.

This couldn’t be real. Somebody actually believed him?

He looked at Nosey with something akin to anger.

“Who sent you?”

“No one,” she replied with a frown. “I read your piece. There’s something about this that’s very interesting to me.”

“What’s your angle?” he insisted.

“You and I, working together, on the hunt for the most fantastic legendary creature in all of Equestria, our words creating a tapestry of the noble beast we call ‘the Equestrian Dragon’! The story of the century!” she told him.

“Okay, so you’re a visionary. You’re also the only one who believes me,” he said realistically. “I need something tangible. Shining Armor’s got a file on this thing, but I can’t even get him on the phone.”

“Money,” Nosey said. “It all comes down to money. And Spike Zenith is the wealthiest man in the world. If we talk to him, we might learn what he knows about the Dragon.”

Quills almost whooped for joy. “I could kiss you.”

“Don’t do me any favors,” she replied, as if he hadn’t just made that incredibly tacky remark. She fluttered her long eyelashes as she asked, “So, will you help me?”

“Yes,” he replied sincerely. “Will you marry me?”

“Do you snore?”

“I’ll learn,” he promised with a grin.

“Come on, I’ll buy you lunch,” she told him. “But first, we’ve got to pick up our new interns at the River Market.”

The Rain Shine River Market was one of the most important community locales of Kirintown, if not the whole city. People from all over New Canterlot visited the stores and it had become an unofficial meeting space for various communities.

It was often visited during mayoral campaigns for that very reason.

The owner, Rain Shine, was well known and liked by the community and was a member of the New Canterlot City Store Owners’ Association and the leader of the Kirintown Civic Association. Spike Zenith had cooperated with her a few times to organize events throughout the neighborhood, which were all great successes; she had spearheaded many projects and Spike was glad to say she was a voice of reason and tolerance in the city.

Spike didn’t know what the city would be like without Rain Shine.

Parenthesis, the Dean of New Canterlot University, and several of the college’s students met under a graffiti sign that asked the question, “Why do good things happen to bad people?”

“Welcome, students, to Internship Week. Five days of immersion into the real world of work,” Dean Parenthesis began. “And a week off for the teachers,” he added under his breath.

“A week in the real world,” said Scootaloo. “I’ve often wondered what that’d be like.”

“Well, keep wondering,” Sweetie Belle replied. “Parenthesis will give the ‘in crowd’ all the good jobs and the rest of us will end up enslaved in humiliating drudgery as usual.”

“Diamond Tiara, you pampered brat, shall work at Karat and Clarity’s Jewelry Store,” Parenthesis said.

“How fitting,” Diamond Tiara said. “Well, off to, what’s that word again... work?”

“Scootaloo, our little ray of sunshine, shall staff the information booth,”

“This isn’t terrible. I don’t hate this,” she said.

“Snips and Sails, Almighty help us, you are going to work at Celestia’s Secret,”

“This isn’t terrible!” Snips smiled happily.

“We don’t hate this!” Snails added.

“Featherweight and Shady Daze will be shadowing Nosey News and Inky Quills from the New Canterlot Gazette... and Apple Bloom shall report to Orange Smoothie,” the Dean finished.

After they had been given their assigned jobs, the kids headed off to their assigned jobs, including Apple Bloom, whose assignment was serving juice while wearing a hairnet and a bright orange apron over a denim skirt and yellow cowgirl boots.

“Now, let’s go over the rules,” Aunt Orange, the proprietor of the establishment, began.

“You have rules?” Apple Bloom asked in disbelief.

“Of course,” she said. “Number one, always wear your apron. Number two, lift with your legs, not your back. And number three; mix the smoothies clockwise, not counterclockwise. I’ll be in my office if you need anything, but I’ll be back regularly to check on you.”

A few hours later, when Apple Bloom was cleaning up during a slow period at the store, she found Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo standing together at the counter.

“You gals on a break?” she asked them.

“Yeah, a permanent one,” Sweetie Belle responded.

“What happened to your job at the 99¢ store?” Scootaloo asked.

“No cute guys, just a bunch of rude, disrespectful old farts and biddies trying to steal practically-worthless crap,” Sweetie Belle replied.

That’s when they realized she’d gotten sick of her demeaning job and quit.

Shortly after, Goldcap, Decepticolt and Zappityhoof showed up and started picking on the younger trio. Fortunately, Applejack and Rainbow Dash also showed up to break it up.

“Lay off,” Applejack said.

“Is that a threat?” Goldcap asked.

“What’re you gonna do, sue us?” Zappityhoof added tauntingly.

“Drop dead,” Rainbow Dash told them.

“Stay out of this or I’ll pulverize you,” Decepticolt answered.

“Wow. A three-syllable word,” Dash retorted. “I’m almost impressed.”

Decepticolt was about to raise his fist to her when Dr. Trotland, the University’s economics professor, suddenly appeared.

“What is going on here?” he demanded. “The next one of you who talks will fail my course. I kid you not.”

Decepticolt scoffed, “Whatever,” and he, Goldcap and Zappityhoof walked off.

At that same moment, in Karat and Clarity’s Jewelry Store across the way, Spike was standing and waiting while the two jewelers examined a piece Spike had brought in.

“This is quite an unusual ring, Mr. Zenith,” Karat said. “Where did you purchase it?”

“I didn’t, I made that,” Spike replied.

“Well, would you mind if I asked what you paid for the materials?”

“Between the jewel and the silver... two thousand bucks,”

“Well, Mr. Zenith, you got yourself an extraordinary bargain,” Clarity said. “Between the unusual setting and the stone itself, this ring is easily worth fifteen thousand dollars.”

“Are you sure?”

“Oh, yes. A rose cut emerald in a Pavé setting is very, very rare,” Karat replied. “So, um, any interest in selling it? We could go as high as twenty thousand.”

“No,” Spike said firmly. “Thank you, though.”

“Well, if you change your mind, let us know,” Clarity told him.

As Spike strode out of the store, he brushed past an ugly punk with a gold tooth and greasy hair, who brought in something to trade.

“What is this, some kind of stone?” Karat asked.

“I found it,” the punk answered.

“Stole it, more likely,” Clarity commented.

It was a round piece of emerald jasper.

“I found it while I was in the Ghastly Gorge,” he said.

Suddenly, Karat started to panic.

“Put it back. It belongs to the Chancellor,” he said quickly. “Tell no one you have it. You’ll endanger the whole city. Now get out. I don’t need that sort of trouble here. Get out!”

Shortly after, Diamond Tiara came in from the back room and asked, “What did I miss?”

Nosey News was more than a little intrigued with Spike Zenith. She wanted to learn more about him... and because Spike didn’t like interviews, he almost never made reservations under his own name. But she got lucky enough to have lunch at the table right next to his.

She, Inky Quills, Featherweight and Shady Daze then spent the next few hours following Spike and Soarin around the city, even when they ducked into a trendy beauty salon.

“Pedicure, Mr. Zenith?” Vera asked.

“How could I say no to you?” Spike replied.

Then they followed Spike and Soarin into a building with a radio tower on top. The sign read New Canterlot Cable Access. Inside, as a man pushed a camera on wheels, Nosey approached Spike on the television set of his show, Cooking with Spike.

“I swear, if I hear one more person call me sir, I--”

“Excuse me, sir? I’m Nosey News, and I’m looking for Spike Zenith, the billionaire playboy and world-champion cage fighter,” Nosey said.

“I do not give interviews!” he snapped. “Can’t you see that I’m--?”

Ready to seriously injure his offender, Spike stopped seething as he turned around and came face-to-face with a cute woman with black hair and cuter eyeglasses.

“... happy to make an exception for you?” he finished.

“It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Zenith,” Featherweight put in. “Your recent research on laser weaponry was fascinating.”

“And the photograph did not do you justice,” Shady Daze added.

Nosey smiled at her new sidekicks.

“So, how about a quick word?” she asked.

Spike stopped smiling as he realized who she was.

“Wait a minute. You’re Nosey News, the resident vigilante sensationalist,” he said.

“Just reporting the facts, sir,” she replied.

“Is that what you’re doing?” Spike countered. “Tell me. Are all media personalities as... charming as yours?”

Spike had read her column Facts and Fairytales. A young reporter and investigative journalist for New Canterlot Daily seeking to make a name for herself, Nosey’s stories often attacked corrupt officials head-on... when she could get the stories by her editor, Dawn Fillmore; a woman who had been on edge after all the complaint letters she had received about Nosey’s “controversial” articles, namely the ones about election fraud, forged documents, and a potential weapons smuggling ring. While a noble sentiment, the people Nosey targeted didn’t take kindly to being thrust into the public eye. She could find herself in trouble if she didn’t find a more subtle way to do her job. Still, it was admirable to see a journalist unafraid to expose the truth in a world defined by corruption and lies.

“Equestria needs more people like her,” Spike admitted to himself.

However, at present, she seemed fixated on him and telling his story.

Even Spike wasn’t safe from the tattle tabloids... and he could not stand rumor mongers and sleazy gossip columnists. Unfortunately, avoiding the press only piqued their curiosity... and Nosey had a reputation for making private lives a little too public. She prided herself on catching her subjects off-guard. She also knew Spike didn’t like talking to the press or the media, but she had finally caught up with him... and she wasn’t about to let him get away.

“Look, if I don’t get something fresh and unrehearsed right now, I will gladly rerun the old ‘Ways of the Wealthy and Well-Known’ piece every chance I get... with pleasure,” she said.

Spike looked like he was about to blow a fuse.

It was back in 1992, when a television interview went awry--in fact, it had been a complete flop--because Spike, who had been awake all night, had trouble keeping his eyes open... and he came off as an incompetent bore.

He eyed Nosey’s low cleavage and said, “Two. Questions. Choose them carefully.”

Nosey News smiled as she snapped her fingers and Shady Daze turned his video camera on and began to film her.

“Today, we take you to meet the head of the Zenith Industries empire,” she began. “He’s known by many labels: playboy, socialite, philanthropist, Equestria’s most eligible bachelor. But who is the real Spike Zenith? Despite a larger-than-life public persona, Mr. Zenith has privately managed to remain a mystery. And here he is. Tell us, what is it like to be a billionaire?”

“First of all, I am a trillionaire,” Spike corrected her. “And second, why do people always hassle me about my salary?”

“That’s funny, calling three-point-seven trillion a salary,” Nosey commented.

“I run my businesses ethically and responsibly!” Spike said, trying hard to not yell. “What do you make?” he inquired.

“That’s kind of personal,” she replied.

“Exactly,” Spike stated.

“Yes, but what you make is news because it’s so gigantic,”

“What do you make, really, about $50,000 a year? Okay, that’s two columns a week, about eight columns a month, about five hundred bucks a column. And it’s a buck per word. For every little world like ‘the’ and ‘a,’ if you hit the letter ‘a,’ it’s a buck,” he said.

“Wow,” Nosey thought.

“Of course, but that’s nothing compared to you putting an end to D.A. Flank Scallion’s corruption,” she said. “Scallion took down so many innocent people, didn’t he?”

Spike blinked at her in surprise.

For once, she had her facts--the facts--right.

“Yes. Yes, he did,” he replied.

“But where others would be bitter, you have moved on. Now, you’re an enormous success,” Nosey said. “Clearly, it takes a man who is totally secure in his masculinity to take on such duties and responsibilities like this. You’ve got what every man dreams of.”

Spike knew what Nosey was doing: she was playing up to him, stroking his ego.

And he loved it.

“Actually, it does,” he smiled. “And yes, yes I do.”

“I guess you have everything you could possibly want. How do you do it?” she asked, almost flirtatiously.

“It’s nothing, really. I just make a plan, I stick to that plan no matter what, and I try to celebrate the little things in life,” he said sincerely.

Nosey News looked straight into the camera and said, “Ladies, drop everything and get one of these!”

“Unfortunately, I am the last of my kind,” Spike replied, not-so-modestly. “Why don’t you stick around a little longer?”

“I don’t mind if I do,” Nosey said. “So, Spike, tell me what you’re making here.”

“It’s just chili, but it’s my own secret recipe,”

“Well, then I won’t tell a soul,” she said sweetly.

“Well, we’ve got garlic powder, ancho chili powder, a little Worcestershire sauce, a dash of oregano, a pinch of cumin, and of course... my secret ingredient,”

“Chocolate?” she asked.

“You would not believe how rich it makes the sauce,” he said.

Suddenly, an oven mitt that had been resting on one of the stove’s other burners ignited!

“Fire!” Nosey exclaimed.

“Everybody back!” Spike commanded. “Soarin, open a window!”

Soarin nodded as Spike grabbed the fire extinguisher from the wall behind him, aimed at the burning oven mitt, and put out the flame.

“Everyone okay?” he asked.

They all nodded.

“Did you see that? He is amazing!” Nosey said. “Is there anything you can’t do?”

Spike smirked and said, “No comment.”

“Well, I think I have what I need,” Nosey told him. “Thank you, Mr. Zenith.”

“Well, thank you, Miss News,” he replied.

She removed her glasses and smiled. “Call me Nosey.”

After she and her support team left the television studio, Nosey caught sight of Goldcap, Decepticolt and Zappityhoof tailing Spike, as she had.

“So, what’s your interest in Spike Zenith?” she inquired. “Professional, purely sexual?”

“Homicidal,” the trio stated in response.

Later that evening, Spike and Soarin wore plaid shirts, jeans and dark sunglasses as people bustled about the Central Mall.

The pilot’s killer had taken a lot of care to cover their tracks; residue next to the victim’s foot revealed the murderer used sodium hypochlorite to try and destroy any forensic evidence back at the crime scene, yet in doing so they left a new trail for the Equestrian Dragon to follow.

That’s where they had slipped up.

“Sometimes a lack of evidence is all you need,” Spike had told Soarin.

Following his nose, Spike’s dragon sense of smell was able to filter for particles of the bleach in the air... and to find who was so determined to kill that young aviator. The trail wound through the streets to the Central Mall, where Spoiled Rich was to meet Acid Burn.

Spike peered down from an upper story railing, spotted the wealthy woman, and he and Soarin followed her. They pursued her across the shopping complex, but she never met the gaze of her pursuers, who matched her stride from the upper level.

Spoiled Rich briefly stopped to converse with a female merchant operating a vendor displaying greeting cards and stickers before moving on, and Spike and Soarin resumed following their target, who blended in surprisingly well with the many passersby. The two men broke into a jog, hastening their way down the crowded escalators. They stalked by a storefront, where they saw their mark having a conversation with another young woman.

Finally, she met with the notorious hacker outside the lingerie store.

“I’ve been walking around for an hour waiting for you,” Acid Burn began.

“I was busy, if you hadn’t noticed,” Spoiled replied.

Soarin and Spike adjusted their listening devices so they could eavesdrop on their conversation. There was a lot of static, but they were able to make out most of it.

“... very, very specific encrypted notation,” Acid Burn was saying.

“I’m not concerned about encryption,” Spoiled Rich said.

After the two women had concluded their business, Spike and Soarin raced between a pair of decorative cheetah statues then ducked around a corner while Acid Burn moved through a shadowy alcove full of mannequins and other décor.

Elsewhere, a girl named Cindy peeked out from a hiding spot behind the trash compacter while a seedy thug known as Reed looked Acid Burn in the eyes as she strode out of the shadows. Acid Burn stepped in closer as Reed’s companion watched Acid Burn fire a gun at Reed, who dropped dead.

Left behind, Reed’s companion emerged from her hiding place and the girl recoiled at the sight of Spike and Soarin.

“I didn’t kill him! I didn’t kill him!”

“Was it Acid Burn?” Spike asked. He didn’t even give her a chance to respond before he handcuffed her wrist to Reed’s body and stated, “You’re not going anywhere.”

Spike told Soarin to stay with her and that he would be right back.

Transforming into the Equestrian Dragon, Spike tried to go after Acid Burn, who disappeared after discarding her weapon in a nearby dumpster... but the Dragon ran into Shielding and another known criminal, Crisp.

“H-Hey, you hear that?” Shielding asked.

“I don’t hear anything,” Crisp replied.

“That’s what I mean,” Shielding said.

Shielding about pissed his pants as he turned toward the shadows and saw the Equestrian Dragon emerge from them.

“Didn’t I literally beat your ass just a few days ago?” the Dragon asked, very disappointed. “And what did I tell you about hurting innocent creatures?”

“Huh. You don’t look innocent to me!” Crisp replied.

He charged the Equestrian Dragon, but the Dragon simply sidestepped him, and Crisp ran straight into the stone wall behind the Dragon, knocking himself out. Shielding pulled a gun, but the Equestrian Dragon crushed it and Shielding’s hand in his grip before slamming the guy’s head into the wall alongside his associate.

The Equestrian Dragon beat the crap out of those two idiot terrorists. Then Spike Zenith dragged them, unconscious, back to Soarin, who took them into custody.

The following day, after Soarin returned to his post with his new prisoners, Spike, Fancy Pants and Fleur de Lis arrived at the New Canterlot Gazette, each of them bearing a “gift” for Nosey News. Inky Quills sipped a glass of lemonade through a bendable plastic drinking straw as he knocked on the door to Nosey’s office.

“We need to talk,” Quills began.

“If this is about the rumors surrounding Spike Zenith, let me remind you that I am not the one who started them. I just reported them,” Nosey told him.

“More like milking them,” Quills thought.

“Just one question: how often do you check your facts?” he asked.

“I’m a gossip reporter. If I check the facts, it’s not gossip anymore,” she replied. “He obviously wants them stopped, but I can’t do that. And what is he going to do if I don’t? Is he going to hurt me? Am I going to wake up with a horse head in my bed?”

He shrugged as he left, passing Spike and his C.E.O. and C.O.O. as they advanced on Nosey.

“Anybody interested in some should-be-world-famous spaghetti sauce?” Spike asked.

“Well, if it isn’t Mr. Zenith, entourage in tow,” Nosey smiled. “What’s the occasion?”

“It’s a bribe,” Fleur told her.

“Bribing me with cooking? Okay, I’m listening,”

“You may have gotten the wrong impression about our employer,” Fancy Pants said.

“That he’s a born jerk and work-obsessed control freak who believes that his existence carries a responsibility that affects lives other than his own?” Nosey asked. “Look, it’s nice of you to stand up for him, but I know what I saw. I do not lie.”

“Yes, but you don’t know the whole story,” Fancy replied. “Let me show you something that happened with one of our interns this past summer...”

He held up a video tape from Zenith Industries, popped it into a nearby VCR, and the T.V. it was hooked up to showed security footage of Honey Belle standing in Fancy Pants’ office with himself, Fleur and Spike, as well as police Captain Shining Armor and Officer Windstorm.

“Why would you frame me?” Spike asked Honey Belle.

“It’s obvious,” Fleur had said. “She’s jealous.”

“I always did all the work, bringing your crazy ideas to life, never getting to create any of my own,” she said. “And did I ever get any credit or even a thank you? You were easy to frame!”

“Too easy,” Fancy Pants remarked. “That’s what tripped you up. The green hair planted at the scene was too obvious a clue. Once Miss de Lis confirmed that the embezzled money was still in the safe, everything pointed to Honey Belle,” he told Officer Windstorm. “And after Mr. Zenith was blamed, she would attempt to seize control the company via staging a coup on me. She could do whatever she wanted. Very ambitious for an intern...”

Honey Belle’s throat tightened and her bottom lip began to tremble, but she doubted crying was going to help. Now was a good time to start begging for forgiveness.

“I don’t blame you for firing me,” she said quietly. “It’s the least I deserve.”

Spike folded his arms over his broad chest, his emerald eyes cold.

“You’re right. I should can your not-at-all sorry butt,” he replied. “But I can’t.”

Shocked, Honey Belle asked, “Why not?”

“I respect people who do the right thing. Even if they had to do a wrong thing first in order to do that right thing,” Spike replied. “I just hope you’ve learned a lesson from all this.”

“Embezzlement is not a good thing,” Honey Belle said.

Spike was very disappointed in her, but he was willing to give her one last chance.

“I won’t fire you, at least not yet,” he said. “But I am going to tell your mom about this.”

“No, Spike, wait a minute. Let’s not be hasty. She doesn’t need to know about this!”

Spike slammed his fist down on the desk and yelled, “No, SIR! It is ALWAYS ‘SIR!!’”

“Yes, sir,” Honey Belle replied quietly.

“Well, even though you’re a first-time offender, it will ultimately be up to the court to decide your punishment,” Captain Shining Armor said to her. “But as of this moment, consider yourself on an unofficial probation. If you step so much as one toe out of line, just once, YOU’RE HISTORY!”

Fleur stopped the tape, returned it to Fancy Pants, and said to Nosey, “We know Spike can be terribly irritating, even coldhearted, but he is very passionate, caring and forgiving. That’s the side of him that almost no one ever gets to see.”

“Are you done?” Nosey News asked.

“No. I believe, both personally and professionally, that you let ambition cloud your good judgment,” Fancy Pants said. “Sometimes protecting an ally is more important than exposing the truth. Say, for example, your ally was a high-ranking government official who you happened to know was secretly a street brawler who spent his nights beating people to bloody stains with his bare hands and feet in an underground fight club. Now that’s something you would want to keep to yourself. My point is, sometimes secrets must remain secrets... especially among friends. Spike is a good person, and we just wish you would know that. Now, we are finished.”

“Enjoy the spaghetti,” Spike told her.

“You know, I think there’s enough here for two,” Nosey said.

“Any particular two?” he asked.

Nosey looked at Spike, and then looked at Fleur and Fancy. Then Spike looked at them and they, taking the hint, walked out of Nosey’s office, back to the elevator, and they left with their imaginations playing out the scene that would soon unfold between Spike and Nosey.

“You try to kick me off your cooking show and now you play the gentleman,” she said.

“It wasn’t the time or place,” he replied.

“You must want something real bad,”

“Oh, yes. Bubbles okay?” he inquired about the drink.

“Fine,” she replied.

“So, is it really true the camera adds ten pounds?”

“Five in my case... What do you want, Mr. Zenith?”

“Spike,” he corrected her.

“You’re old news. I’m on to fresher stories,”

“You aren’t interested in getting it right?”

“I am. Dawn Fillmore, my producer-slash-editor, is not. All she’s interested in is circulation and ratings,”

Spike knew. Annoyed with the dull stories in her papers, Fillmore had ordered her reporters to start printing rumors.

“At the price of a person’s reputation?” he asked.

“I don’t report anything but the truth,” Nosey stated.

“You didn’t dig deeper,” Spike told her.

“I couldn’t. You threw me out,”

“What do you really want?” he inquired.

“The Equestrian Dragon,” she replied.

“What makes you think I know anything about him?” Spike asked.

“I know more about the Dragon than you, or he, might think,” she said. “Help me get to him and I’ll dial down on the sensationalism.”

Spike knew where this was going. Nosey was relentless, and trying to hide the truth only made her want it that much more.

Who was this guy, this man-dragon? A renegade cop? A criminal? Some kind of vigilante? Or a total nutcase? Nosey had a feeling it was every one of the above. And she was going to find out, and report everything she found. When she would be done, the Equestrian Dragon was going to be better known than Spike Zenith. And whatever the police were covering up would be splashed across the front page.

So, knowing that she would be able to put the pieces together before too long, Spike compromised by saying, “Somehow I doubt that, but all right. I’ll see what I can do.”

“And would I be able to get some more of this excellent cooking... Spike?” she asked.

For the second time in as many days, Spike smirked.

“All you can eat... Nosey,” he replied.

Author's Note

Next time: The Equestrian Dragon must defeat the spirit of chaos and disharmony when he escapes from his imprisonment and plans to throw Equestria into uncontrollable turmoil.

Discord's Back In Town

On a cold, dark night, a glowing yellow fogbank floated through the empty streets of New Canterlot City. The fog spiraled upward along the side of the Courthouse, up to the Clock Tower, to the back of its glockenspiel, and the four big minute hands on all four of the big clock’s faces began to spin rapidly.

That particular morning, Spike was extremely tired.

He kept sensing a mysterious cloaked figure gliding past the balcony windows. Then a sinister shadow with long fingers on clawed hands grew along the walls of Spike’s master bedroom as he slept. Suddenly, the military tech alarm clock on his nightstand counted up as minutes passed in seconds. Meanwhile, in his own quarters, Fancy Pants slept on as the numbers on his clock quickly climbed.

When the clocks all reached seven a.m., they abruptly stopped... and Spike bolted up in bed, his mouth opened in a gasp. He glared at the clock then rose out of bed, and he, Celestia, Luna, Fancy Pants, Fleur de Lis, and the servants all gathered in the castle’s main kitchen.

“It’s still dark,” Red Ribbons, the head maid, said as she glanced out the kitchen window. “A storm front must be moving in.”

“Not according to the weather report,” Cobalt Stone, the second butler, replied.

“Since when can weathermen predict the weather, let alone the future?” Lemony Crumble, the head butler, asked.

“Maybe the clocks are wrong,” Twinkleworks, the second maid, said.

“That’s it! I’m calling Time of Day,” Spike stated.

He reached for the kitchen’s wall phone, dialed a number, and then waited.

“Oh, great, a recording,” he groaned.

“At the tone, the time will be 3:12 a.m.,” the voice on the machine said. “So go back to bed and leave me alone!”

And then the call got cut off.

“I wouldn’t trust the Time of Day with the time of day!” Fleur commented.

“Well, according to the Naval Observatory website, it’s 4:23 a.m.,” Fancy Pants said. “The clocks all say 7:23. The clocks are wrong.”

Needless to say, it was hard to get back to sleep after that.

And since everyone was already up, Celestia decided to make them all a big breakfast of her famous berry pancakes. But when she groggily opened the refrigerator, she saw that the key ingredient was missing.

“What happened to the eggs?” she asked in confusion. “There were two dozen eggs in here last night, now there aren’t any.”

While Celestia tried to solve that mystery, Spike went back to his room and decided to get dressed. As he made his way upstairs, he kept wondering why all the clocks had been sped up. He knew there had to be an explanation. That’s when he heard the maniacal laughter.

That was never a good sign.

As he approached the Zenith Industries’ main building later that morning, Spike paused when he spotted an elderly man with rose-colored sunglasses lounging on one of the large decorative stones in the middle of the rock garden out front. He was sipping a cherry slushy, munching beef jerky, and reading a Playboy.

Then he removed his shades and grinned at Spike.

Spike moved toward the main entrance, a confused frown on his face, and after he passed through the turnstile and entered the building, he turned back to look at the garden once more, only to find it empty... and the man in the shades was gone.

It was like he was never even there.

After he rode the elevator up to the top floor, Spike thought he could grab some shuteye in Fancy Pants’ office, but a sound caught his attention and he ducked behind the desk.

“What? What’s that?” he exclaimed. “I’ve heard that sound before! Oh, yeah. Yeah, sure. It was back in ’74, outside Saskatchewan. Muskrats! Wild ones! Droves of the little buckers, they--! Oh, no. They always get quiet just before they attack. The clever little demons, I can still hear their nasty hearts beating. I can hear... Ditzy?”

Ditzy Doo, the cute, clumsy, bubbly 24-year-old blonde muffin woman—who had always had a huge secret crush on Spike—walked in, pushing her little muffin cart. She and Spike had been exchanging glances for weeks now; she was checking him out while he was checking her out. And her cart had almost every kind of muffin known: chocolate, chocolate chip, pumpkin spice, apple cinnamon, raspberry streusel, blueberry, banana, lemon poppy seed... she even had muffins that were jam-filled.

“Mister Spike?” she asked.

“That’s me,” he answered.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” she apologized. “I got lost on the way here, and then I got hungry, so I ate the last muffin. And when I went back to get more, I had to wait a whole hour for them to cool after they came out of the oven.”

“The bakery is one block away!” Fancy Pants exclaimed as he walked in. “What did you do, roll them here?”

“Well, her cart has wheels, so she did roll it here,” Spike told him as he helped himself to a chocolate chip chocolate muffin. “Here, have one.”

“Muffins are not breakfast!” Fancy shouted. “They are cake in a doily!”

“Don’t listen to him,” Spike told her. “Here.”

“Oh, a $20,” Ditzy said. “I’m sorry, I don’t have change.”

“Well, you’ll just have to keep it then, won’t you?” Spike smiled.

“Oh, thank you,” she smiled back. “And I’ll need you to sign this. Oops, wait. That’s my other job. Excuse me.”

After Ditzy left, Spike and Fancy Pants were joined by Fleur de Lis, Davenport, Prim Hemline, and Carol Finch--a receptionist with mouse-brown hair who gave the others a headache because she talked like she was chewing her face--as they walked down the hall to the main conference room.

“I wish you would rake me over the coals like that,” Carol said. “I could use the money.”

“She said she was sorry, and she corrected her mistakes,” Spike replied.

“And I suppose the fact that she’s a cute, airheaded bimbo had nothing to do with it?”

“I wasn’t nice to her because she’s cute,” Spike told Carol. “I was nice to her because I’m hungry and I finally got my muffin.”

“Well, excuse me for thinking that pretty people get all the breaks,” she snapped.

“Oh, mon Dieu, please, not le cheerleading tryout story again,” Fleur groaned.

“Tell me it’s not true,” Carol challenged them. “They get out of speeding tickets, they land better jobs...”

“Do not get carried away,” Fancy Pants told her. “Looks may help with trivial things, but not an important job.”

“That’s when a little thing called ‘nepotism’ kicks in,” Spike added.

“You know, this would make a great social experiment,” Carol said. “I’ll set two women up with interviews for the same job; one, good-looking but completely unqualified, the other plain but perfect for the position, and I guarantee you that they will pick the gorgeous one. And you know why? Because the world places too much importance on looks!”

“Carol, how did you get to be so cynical?” Davenport asked.

Suddenly, T-Bone and Photo Finish walked up to them, the latter carrying a photo she had taken, and said, “Spike, I need you to look at zis girl. Do you think her shins are too long?”

After barely two seconds, Spike slowly shook his head and said, “What a waste.”

“You people are so screwed up,” Carol stated.

“Oh, no, what’s today’s sermon?” T-Bone groaned.

“She thinks that beautiful people get unfair advantages in the job market,” Prim Hemline explained. “I disagree. I did not rise to the top because of my good looks.”

“No, you got to the top because you slept your way here,” Davenport replied.

“I resent that,” Prim said. “I slept around because I was promiscuous, not ambitious.”

“Fair enough,” Davenport relented.

“You. Are. All. Warped!” Carol shouted. “I mean, Mr. Zenith, the muffin girl; and Prim, you are so obsessed with your looks, you fell into the reflecting pool at Lincolt Center.”

“I resent that!” Prim Hemline repeated. “I fell in because I was drunk, not vain.”

“And Davenport, when was the last time you dated a woman who wasn’t absolutely perfect in your eyes?” Carol asked.

“Cameo. Belle,” he answered without a second of hesitation.

“Miss September?” Carol asked, unimpressed.

“Her belly button’s an outie,” he said disgustedly.

“What a waste,” Spike said.

Five minutes later, everyone had gathered for the staff meeting.

“Let’s go, people. It is officially 9:45 and we’ve got a lot to cover this morning,” Sunburst said. “Carol, glad to see you could make it.”

“Salutations, confreres,” Fleur greeted the others. “You’re all looking resplendent. Serena, lovely as always. Prim Hemline, this year’s fall line is your best yet. And Davenport, I don’t care what Carol says, I love what you’ve done with Quills and Sofas.”

“Can we please get on with it?” Fancy Pants asked.

“Old business,” Sunburst began. “Carol?”

“None,” she said quickly.

“Okay, let’s move on to new business,” Spike said as he glanced at his notes. “Let’s see... Carol... Fancy Pants and I have been going over the numbers. You’re into me for five thousand bucks. You turned in an expense report from Germaney, where the branch director’s office said you never showed up. The same for Brayzil, and Monacolt, Maredrid, and the entire West Coast of Equestria...”

“Spike, this is ridiculous!” Carol said. “Marego Oneupher makes more money than I do!”

“I know. I tried to hire her,” he replied. “And it’s Mr. Zenith to you.”

“I want a raise. I deserve a raise. I demand a raise!”

“Salary isn’t everything. This job comes with a lot of perks,” Fancy Pants said.

“Like what?” Carol spat.

“Your free lunches, for example,” he replied.

“Those are working lunches! I’m out there every day from 11:30 to 3:00!” she shouted.

“We all have to make sacrifices,” Fancy Pants told her.

“Oh, that reminds me, how’s that solid gold pen working out for you?” Sunburst asked.

“Is that your idea of ‘sacrifice’?” Carol asked.

“This is not some frivolous toy. It’s a crucial tool of industry. I’m going to use this forever,” Fancy Pants said as he held the aforementioned pen up. “And you know something else? While I was looking over your expense reports, the name ‘Fit Sensations’ kept popping up. That struck me as a little odd.”

“Well, that’s where I do my business lunches,” Carol lied.

“I never heard of it,” Spike said.

“It’s lovely,”

“I’ll have to try it,”

“Oh, you’d hate it,”

“You just said it was lovely,”

“No, they cram you in, family-style,”

“Sounds festive,”

“Well, it’s not!”

“You know, I had lunch just the other day at that place,” Fancy Pants said.

Fancy held up his gold pen, pressed a button on the side of it, and everyone heard Fancy’s voice coming from it.

“Hi, I’d like to order a steak,”

Then they heard someone else say, “We don’t serve food here.”

“Why is that?” Fancy’s voice asked.

“Because this is a shoe store,”

That’s when they realized that the gold pen wasn’t just a pen.

It was also a tape recorder.

“Now, call me crazy, but I’d never take a client to have lunch at Fit Sensations,” Fancy Pants told her. “And do you know why?”

“Because this is a shoe store,” the pen-recorder repeated.

“If you are implying that I am using company funds to buy myself shoes, I am deeply insulted!” Carol sneered. “Let me ask you something, Mr. Fancy Pants. On your way to condemning me, did you even bother to go up to the second floor?”

“Why, yes,” he responded. “And I wonder what my little pen has to say about that...”

Fancy pressed the button again, and they heard his voice once more.

“Is there a restaurant upstairs?” he asked.

“No, just the boots,”

Fancy glared at Carol and asked, “You were saying?”

“Who, me?” she giggled. “Didn’t say a word.”

“Clearly, words like ‘hypocrisy’ mean nothing to you,” Davenport commented.

Carol stammered, desperately trying to come up with any kind of an answer.

“Zenith Industries is not a travel agency or your personal credit card! It does not exist just so you can fly off to wherever you want! Even in the ‘70’s that wouldn’t fly!” Spike shouted. “You are on thin ice. I have no less than fifty employees who would literallymurder you just to be in your position, and if you don’t square your accounts by Monday morning, they won’t need to. Your position will be vacant. Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes,” Carol replied.

“Yes what?” he asked.

“Yes, Mr. Zenith,” she said.

“Then get out,” he told her. “Meeting adjourned.”

“That was quite the maelstrom,” Prim Hemline said as everyone dispersed.

After Spike and Carol left, Fleur pulled Fancy Pants aside and asked, “Do we have time to publicly humiliate Carol this week?”

“I can move some things around,” he replied.

Meanwhile, as Spike walked with T-Bone to the C.E.O.’s office, the gofer was telling the boss about his latest date-turned-fiasco.

“T-Bone, if the handsomest man in the world acted the way you did, any woman would go running in the opposite direction,” Spike told him.

“No woman runs from you, Zenith,” T-Bone replied in retort. “You could barf all over her and she would say, ‘Do it again.’”

“That is both incredibly disgusting and untrue,” Spike stated.

Later, Ditzy Doo—now the delivery woman instead of the muffin woman—returned. She was wearing her ill-fitting brown EPS uniform now; the shirt’s tiny buttons looked like they could burst any moment and her skirt was way too short, like it would rip with every step she took, and when she bent over to retrieve her pen, which she had dropped, Spike caught more than just a glimpse of her red lace panties.

She handed Spike a clipboard to sign then ran her scanner over the package before giving the box to him and said, very sincerely, “Have a nice day.”

As Ditzy left, Fleur de Lis made her weekly inspection in the accounts department office pool on the 26th floor of the building.

Suddenly, something goosed her.

She reacted instinctively: she looked around, clearly miffed, but saw no one.

As she walked on, her hair ribbon mysteriously came undone and her hair dropped as she walked past two typists standing at the water cooler. The women programmers noticed the C.O.O. struggling across the room, fighting with her skirt as she headed for the ladies room, past the desks of her subordinates, who began to notice and giggle.

Drizzle laughed at the scene... until her own blouse suddenly popped open.

Then her panties dropped.

And the invisible molester ran wild.

Meanwhile, back in the C.E.O.’s office, Spike opened the box Ditzy had delivered. It contained a universal remote control—the same one that went to the T.V. that was in the office—with a note that said, “One creature’s torment is another creature’s delight.”

It was signed only with a single letter: D.

Curious, Spike turned on the T.V. with the remote just in time to see the weather report: chocolate milk rain from pink cotton candy clouds.

“And those are just some of the things happening around town this morning. So watch your step, and your back, because I have a feeling today is going to be a wild one. I am Nosey News, and I’ll see you back here for the noon report.”

“Oh, yeah,” Spike said to himself. “This is gonna be a long day...”

At the same time, in Rainbow Dash’s house, which was a short drive from New Canterlot University, Dash was wondering why it was raining.

“It wasn’t supposed to rain until tomorrow,” she thought.

And when she went downstairs, she found Pinkie Pie standing in the laundry room.

“What in the Tartarus is goin’ on?” Dash asked. “Pinkie Pie, why are you in my house at eleven o’clock on a Monday morning ironing your clothes?”

“To get the wrinkles out,” Pinkie replied. “Besides, it’s nine o’clock Wednesday night.”

“Says who?” Dash demanded.

“Says my highly accurate wristwatch, which hasn’t worked in three years,” Pinkie answered, showing Dash the watch that was on her right wrist. “See? Eight-fifteen p.m.”

“You said nine,” Dash replied.

“Well, it was forty-five minutes behind when it broke,” Pinkie said.

“Why don’t you get it fixed?”

“Because it’s slow!” she screamed.

The two girls walked outside as they talked, and saw Fluttershy and Applejack sitting, waiting for them in the latter’s pickup truck. Rainbow Dash sat up front next to Applejack while Pinkie got in the back with Fluttershy. In an effort to cut down on the cost of gas, the girls had started a carpool... with moderate success. They preferred walking to class whenever they could, but none of them wanted to be caught out in the chocolate milk rain.

“Mornin’, gals,” Applejack greeted them.

The truck was just about to take off when Pinkie braced herself and cried out, “Applejack, slow down! One, two, three, four, mach five! Mayday! Hit the chute!”

“Notice the speedometer, zero. Notice the gearshift, it’s in park. Notice the keys, not even in the ignition. Consequently, we are not moving!” Rainbow Dash told her.

Pinkie chuckled and said, “Honest mistake, could’ve happened to anybody. Let’s go.”

“Ya know, ya don’t usually act this strange,” Applejack commented. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re strange, sometimes even very, very, very strange, but never quite this strange.”

“You and me both, cousin,” Pinkie replied. “Speaking of strange, did I tell you that all the clocks in Maid Sugarcube went off three hours early this morning? And Mrs. Cake said the neighbors’ clocks were all wrong, too. Can you believe that?”

“I thought I was imagining things, but our clocks did the same thing,” Fluttershy shared. “I also heard the church bells at midnight as I started to drift off to sleep, and suddenly all the car alarms went off.”

“For absolutely no reason?” Rainbow Dash asked. “That is so weird.”

“Ya think that’s weird?” Applejack asked. “Winona started barkin’ at midnight last night and didn’t stop until 6:00 this morning. When I went outside, I found her up on the roof of the barn, pointed toward the Everfree Forest and growlin’. What’s that tell ya? My dog goes crazy and decides to bark at the woods all night. And when I came to pick ya’ll up, the dirt roads turned into soap and our cornfields all popped into popcorn.”

“Now that’s weird,” Dash corrected herself.

It was true. Not only did evil lurk in the deepest, darkest reaches of the Everfree Forest, but odd occurrences had been known to happen there as well. Many individuals had returned reporting strange things that happened to them.

Applejack’s truck rounded the corner and pulled up to Sunset Shimmer’s apartment building, and she and the other girls saw Sunset being attacked by a swarm of hardcover books. Not only did they levitate, but the covers of the books mimicked wings as they charged in formation like a flock of bats... all while screeching like bats, too!

Fluttershy quickly opened the passenger door and Sunset dove into the back seat and closed it just before the book bats hit.

“Drive, Applejack!” she screamed. “Drive!”

Applejack put her foot down to the accelerator and took off again. She made several turns, even though she’d lost the book bats blocks ago, and when she pulled up to Rarity’s house, she and the other girls saw Rarity run outside, clad in only a bath towel and crying.

“Gee, it looks like a come-as-you-are party,” Pinkie said. “Rarity, are you all right?”

“Me? No! My life is going to pieces!” she wailed. “I went to take a bubble bath, but I was already in the tub. So I had to wait an hour until I was finished, one hour which turned into seven hours, and of course I used every last drop of hot water in the city. I am so inconsiderate!”

“Oh, my, look at the time!” Pinkie exclaimed, looking at the watch on her left wrist.

“I thought your watch was broken,” Rainbow Dash said.

“No, no, this one’s broken,” Pinkie replied, pointing to the watch on her right wrist. “I’ve got more time on my hands than I know what to do with!”

She rolled up her sleeves to reveal four wristwatches on both of her arms.

Fluttershy went inside just long enough to help Rarity get ready, and when they came back out, they rejoined the other girls and proceeded to New Canterlot University.

When they got there, they heard two of the custodians talking.

“There was water in the generator,” one of them said.

“Yeah, but the floor was dry as a bone,” the other replied.

Something was definitely wrong.

All sorts of strange things were happening all over New Canterlot City that day.

Someone put more than a little instant Jell-O mix in the University’s indoor swimming pool--when Pinkie dove into the water, her legs stuck up from the mass of red gelatin. A colony of bees colonized Headmistress Amore’s office and swarmed the hallways. The public school buses developed unexplained leaks--one of the bus drivers opened the door to his vehicle and water burst out from within, knocking him off his feet--the pavement had adapted fabric-like qualities, the trees were flat as cardboard... and then there was the graffiti.

All over and around New Canterlot City, the letter “D” appeared on various surfaces, everything from building walls to the soles of people’s left shoes.

Nobody knew who was responsible.

Nobody knew who to blame.

But they wanted to blame somebody.

At the New Canterlot Police Department, the dispatchers’ lines were jammed with phone calls from citizens all over town claiming that someone was “wrecking the city.”

When Captain Shining Armor’s phone rang, he shouted, “What?!”

“Armour, is that you?”

Shining slapped his own forehead and said, “Armor! My name is Armor! Unless this is the Chief, in which case, Armour’s fine. Actually, I-I prefer Armour, especially if this is the Chief. In fact, I’m thinking of having it legally changed. Who’s this?”

“I need you, man, on the Q.T.,”

“On the Q.T.? What is it, sir?”

“It’s just a figure of speech, but that’s not important. Just get up here!”

Shining and several other officers made their way to Chief Ganache’s office just in time to find him being attacked by the cleaning equipment and supplies: a vacuum cleaner, a mop, a mop bucket, a feather duster, a broom and a dustpan.

“Something must be done about this intolerable situation,” Ganache said.

“We’ll do our very best, sir!” Shining Armor replied.

“Man, your best won’t do! I want better! When I ask for results, I only want to hear yes!”

“Yes, sir!” they stated.

The officers followed the latest lead on the mystery vandal to the bus depot.

“Well, he was definitely here,” Shining Armor thought out loud. “The paint is still wet.”

Meanwhile, Spike returned to Pendragon Castle and was swarmed by several waiting news reporters and camera crews.

“There he is! Mr. Zenith? Mr. Zenith!”

“Why was your home the only one in the area with power?”

“Can you make a statement, sir?”

Forcing his way through them, Spike walked up to the front door and entered the Castle, slamming and locking the doors behind him.

Inside, he was “greeted” by Celestia, Luna, Fleur de Lis, Sandra the wolf, and two large monstrosities: a dire wolf—a large lupine beast almost as big as a horse, mostly white with grey markings on his back and the tip of his tail—and a giant, female, green hooded cobra... named Acwulf and Vayla respectively.

Wise and good, this beautiful serpent protected sacred places and items of magical power from falling into evil hands. In her hidden redoubts, she researched spells and hatched convoluted plans to thwart the evil designs of her enemies. As a guardian, she did not actively seek out violence, warning off intruders rather than attacking. Only if her foes persisted did she attack, accosting them with a combination of magic and poisonous spittle.

They led the human Equestrian Dragon into the main dining room, and Spike gaped at the mass of monsters and other magical creatures that had assembled there: three white mice, seven dwarves, three witches, three Halflings, a badger, a wolverine, dozens of rats, a faun, two Cyclopes (plural form of Cyclops), over 40 leprechauns (wee little men dressed in green suits), red, blue, pink, purple and green pixies, and half a dozen yellow fairies—including their rulers, King Colbert and Queen Tabitha—as well as the tall, handsome, muscular gargoyle, King Scorpan and his parents, the former King Vorak (who was looked almost exactly like his other son, Tirek, except for a longer beard and deer antlers instead of horns) and Queen Haydon (whom Scorpan took after more than his father).

While Red Ribbons, Twinkleworks and Tote Bag served drinks, Lemony Crumble and Cobalt Stone served sandwiches, including cucumber sandwiches with the crusts cut off, peanut butter with grape jelly on white bread, and pimento loaf with Swiss cheese on whole wheat.

“Okay, who’s got the corned beef?” Cobalt Stone asked.

“I’d like a cup of coffee,” one of the little men said.

“Who wanted the egg salad?” Lemony Crumble inquired.

“I don’t know, I had the ham on rye,” one of the Cyclopes replied.

“Who wants to try the tuna?” one of the Halflings asked.

Celestia had even opened one precious jar from Spike’s prized collection of caviar.

“Fish eggs? Yuck!” Queen Tabitha exclaimed in disgust.

The magical creatures all came to a standstill when they heard Spike and turned to look at him. Then one of the little men, Brian Connors, the king of the leprechauns, sprang forward.

“Spike, oh, for the love of clover, we’ve been looking all over for ya!” he said.

“A minute of your time?” another leprechaun asked.

“This obviously can’t wait,” Spike replied as he helped himself to a turkey club sandwich. “So... what are you all doing in my house?”

The Equestrian Dragon knew that something was off beam; things must have been pretty out of kilter for King Vorak and Queen Haydon, King Colbert and Queen Tabitha, and even Brian Connors—the King of all the Leprechauns himself—to come all this way, from the safety of their homes, most of which were back in the Old Countries.

Then Brian the Leprechaun King, looked around shiftily, as if to make sure they were truly alone, and whispered, “Don’t tell anybody, but... something’s wrong.”

“Yeah, I believe we have established that,” Spike replied. “Maybe you could go into some more depth on the subject, hmm?”

“It’s bad,” the dire wolf said. “You have to do something. Before things go to Tartarus in a hand basket.”

“At the risk of sounding offensive, Acwulf, you said the exact same thing when they put up that Springvale Bunny display in Founders Square,” Spike replied.

“There was something wrong with that rabbit,” the dire wolf shuddered.

Even though Acwulf had fiery red eyes, Spike could see the fear reflected in them.

“Spike, it’s not what the pranks are, it’s the magic behind them,” Vayla the Naga added.

“It’s something strange,” Colbert the Fairy King went on. “It feels... different somehow.”

“How long have most of us lived here, centuries?” Spike told them. “I know all about the forbidden arts, I’ve been up to my ears in dark magic.”

“Forgive us, Spike, but have we ever lied to you?” King Vorak asked. “Have we?”

“We are not imagining things, something evil is going on!” Queen Tabitha exclaimed.

Then King Vorak’s wife, Queen Haydon, mentioned something about fog.

“This is going to sound strange, but I saw fog last night,” she told Spike. “It was... glowing. But, what seemed to be happening was the wind was moving east but the fog kept moving west. I know that sounds crazy.”

“Not right now, it doesn’t,” Spike replied.

“Something else happened last night,” Scorpan went on. “At the same time that fog was moving in, this whole city just seemed to come unglued.”

The assemblage was almost in an uproar when a trio of trolls with blue skin and red hair entered the dining hall. There were only a handful of blue trolls left in existence; there hadn’t been a sighting of them in centuries! The only benevolent kind of their species, they were usually a sign of very dark forces at work.

That’s when Spike was finally able to put the pieces together: all the chaos running loose, the presence of King Vorak and Queen Haydon in his home, and now finally the blue-skinned trolls, who were the guardian jailers of the evil demigod, Discord.

An old foe of Celestia and Luna--as well as Spike--long ago, Discord was the “guardian spirit” of chaos and anarchy, and chaos was the key to true peace and harmony. It was one of the magical world’s biggest, deepest, darkest secrets of all time. Like mortals and magical creatures, harmony and disharmony had to be in perfect balance. Without that balance, chaos would turn into pandemonium and reality itself could collapse.

Discord attacked Equestria in the First Century and turned it into a devastating state of unrest for one thousand years. Humans and magical creatures alike were trapped in a never-ending mass of misery and horror under his rule.

Spike, along with Celestia and Luna, combined their powers and rose up against him, sending him to the underworld. They thought that the banishment spell they used would keep him imprisoned forever. And Discord had been a member of King Vorak and Queen Haydon’s court before Scorpan came to power and assumed the throne from his and Tirek’s father.

“He must have escaped,” King Vorak said.

“Discord’s been off the job for a while now,” Celestia said. “But if he’s back, all he would have to do is tap into Equestria’s magical energy for twenty-four hours and he could return to full power.”

“Nobody panic. All we have to do is find Discord and send him back to where he belongs,” Luna told them.

“So, any ideas on where to begin?” Scorpan asked Spike.

But before Spike could answer, Fancy Pants barged in and said, “Sir, you may want to take a look at this.”

Wielding another universal remote, Fancy pressed a button and one of the dining room walls retracted to reveal a big screen T.V., which displayed the updated weather report: the Sun was blue, the moon was red, and the sky was green.

The day was getting stranger by the minute, and not just in New Canterlot City, but all over Equestria. It was hailing taxi cabs in Appleloosa, raining frogs in Flankfort, Kentbucky; there was a sideways tornado in Foaledo, and a thunderstorm in Peoreina, Illineighs.

But it wasn’t just in Equestria, either. Several countries all around the world were experiencing very unusual weather: there was a pink hurricane in the South Equestrian desert, a sandstorm across all of continental Europone and the Hooviet Union, snow was falling UP in Saddle Arabia, and the Black Sea had turned orange.

“Hey. That one looks sunny,” King Brian observed.

“We know. Unfortunately, that’s Seaddle,” Luna said.

Suddenly, it went dark outside... even though it was still the middle of the afternoon.

“All right, who turned out the Sun?” Celestia demanded.

As Spike glared out the window, he saw that the glowing fog had returned, and King Vorak said, “I hope you’re not planning to do what I think you’re doing.”

“I think we better track Discord down before things get any worse,” Fleur suggested.

The Equestrian Dragon’s mission was clear: he had to find and defeat Discord before he plunged Equestria back into eternal chaos.

“Oh, please don’t let things get any worse,” Spike thought. “Please, please, please.”

He said, “Okay. If it means that much to you, I’ll find Discord. But now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go and disappoint the sweetest girl in the world.”

Spike picked up the phone in the main foyer and dialed Fluttershy’s number, but she didn’t answer. He asked himself why she wasn’t home then he thought about paging her but decided it would be better to just meet up with her at the zoo like he had planned.

Later, as the Equestrian Dragon moved through the darkening streets, his every sense alert to any insidious injustice and malicious misdeed, he slipped into the zoo... only to find that Fluttershy wasn’t there. And when he flew to her house, he saw that she hadn’t returned, nor were any of the other girls. They weren’t at their homes or their usual hangout spots, and he began to wonder where they could have gone.

Later that night, at Pendragon Castle, a storm raged outside while Celestia nervously paced back and forth. When she heard the foyer phone ring, she quickly answered it.

“Hello? Is that you, Spike? Never mind that. Now, where are you? I’m coming right down-- You’re where?”

“The Applewood Cemetery,” Spike replied.

Applewood, Coltifornia also known as Tasseltown, Tra-La-La-Land, and the place where dreams are made, it was one of Discord’s favorite old haunts; he used to hang out there, killing time... and its cemetery served as one of the gateways to Tartarus.

The storm continued as the Equestrian Dragon hung up the pay phone he’d called Celestia from, ventured into the cemetery through its main gate, snuck into one of the underground tombs, and loomed over the padlocked coffin in the center of the crypt.

He was going to see if Discord was still sleeping, but before he could advance any further, he heard heavy footsteps approaching.

“Welcome, Equestrian Dragon. It is I, the all-powerful Discord, spirit of chaos, guardian of disharmony, and king of lies,” he formally reintroduced himself. “Did you miss me?” he asked. “I missed you.”

The Equestrian Dragon recognized that condescending tone anywhere.

“That’s Discord, all right,” he thought.

“Show your face, you coward!” the Dragon roared. “You can’t hide from me forever!”

Suddenly, a Draconequus appeared before him in a bright flash of white light.

A subspecies of chimera--like griffons--being a fusion of many other creatures, his body was made up of a tattered pelt of brown fur with a deer antler on the right side of his head and a goat horn on the left side. His right arm had the paw of a lion, the left hand was the talon of an eagle, the right leg of a lizard, the left leg of a goat, and he had the tongue and tail of a snake. He also possessed one feathered wing, one bat wing, pale yellow eyes with crimson pupils, and when he opened his mouth, it revealed sharp teeth and fangs.

“Equestrian Dragon, here on official business,” the Dragon said. “You are causing a major disturbance out there.”

“Oh, I’m causing a disturbance, am I? It’s all my fault, is it? And the Titanic! You want to blame that on me, too? Maybe the Chicoltgo Fire? Ha! I was in Pittsburgh that day!” Discord shouted. “You are so dumb that when you have a brainstorm it’s a light drizzle!”

His voice echoed throughout the mausoleum.

“You know, I almost admire you, Equestrian Dragon. The only being that has ever defeated me. Nobody else has even come close,” he went on. “But now that I have been here long enough to feast on Equestria’s delicious magical energy, guess who’s running at full power, baby! GO ON, GUESS!!”

“You got what you wanted!” the Equestrian Dragon shouted. “You got what you came for now put things back the way they were before and get out of my territory!”

“Nope. Not interested. I’m already unpacked and everything. Besides, I like it here. I feel... settled. It’s quaint, not to mention the property values. I mean, I thought about San Fran, but it’s gotten so... bourgeois. It’s a real shame,”

“All right, then, how about a little competition?” the Equestrian Dragon asked.

Discord grinned as he curled his goatee.

“A showdown over the fate of all Equestria?” he asked. “Interesting proposition... Pick your poison.”

“A battle of wits, winner takes all,” the Equestrian Dragon stated.

Discord snorted smoke and said, “If that’s the way you want it, let the games begin!”

With a smile and a snap of the Draconequus’ eagle talons, the mausoleum chamber began to spin as the Equestrian Dragon was bombarded with rumba music, and he found himself transported onto the studio set of a T.V. game show... inside the New Canterlot Cable Access (NCCA) building back in New Canterlot City!

Discord had taken over the studio to televise this—every single channel was broadcasting the same images of a man standing, bathed in shadow—to every box set in every home in New Canterlot and all of Equestria!

Now, nearly every T.V. show that had a studio audience but wasn’t a sitcom had an announcer whose duties were as followed: deliver opening and closing spiels for the show, introduce the show’s host, and describe the prizes the contestants could win.

It was revealed to be an almost exact duplicate of Discord, as were the members of the audience... all clones of Discord.

“Live from New Canterlot City, the show that nobody wants to see but everyone will watch,” Announcer-Discord broadcasted over the P.A. system. “Welcome, everybody, to... Let’s Save Humanity! Sponsored by Naked Furniture, makers of the finest oak chairs, tables and bookshelves... Naked Furniture, where raw beauty meets refined craftsmanship in its purest form. And now, ladies and gentlemen, humans and creatures alike, here’s your host. The monster with the questions... master of style and intrigue... the lean, mean, chaotic machine: Discord!”

The “audience” Discords cheered as the real Discord slid out wearing a tacky lime green polyester suit—the motif of a smug, slimy, obnoxious game show host—complete with a hairdo held in place by gel hard as cement.

“Hello and welcome!” he began. “Now, who’s ready to play...?”

“Let’s! Save! Humanity!” the audience Discords shouted.

“But first, let’s meet today’s contestant, shall we?” Discord told them. “He’s the tall, strong and handsome protector of an enchanted world who likes martial arts, Carnivore Pizza and has a soft spot for the bassist from the Rainbooms, who is also a blonde farmer’s daughter named Applejack. Here he is, your enemy and mine, help me give a big, out-of-this-world welcome to... the Equestrian Dragon!”

The Equestrian Dragon recognized this obvious set-up; it was a rigged game show where people competed by having to give obscure answers to almost unanswerable quiz questions and then complete a deadly physical challenge that somehow related to the question... one they seemed to have no chance of winning. But if the competitors did, they got a prize for each challenge completed and were also given a chance to either walk away with them after each victory or move on to the next round, and risk losing everything if they couldn’t pass.

But if the Equestrian Dragon was going to beat Discord at his own game, he would have to play. That meant answering the way-too-hard questions correctly, suffer very painful penalties (like getting pummeled with a mallet) if he didn’t and survive the nigh-impossible challenges... as well as Discord’s sadistic sense of humor.

“We’ll start with a single practice round,” Discord said. “The first question is... banana.”

“That’s... not a question,” the Equestrian Dragon replied.

“Isn’t it?” Discord countered.

Out of the blue, a sour note buzzed, indicating the contestant had given a wrong answer.

“I’m sorry. The answer was Neighsay. We were looking for ‘Chancellor Neighsay’. No points there. All right, let’s begin Round One, shall we?” Discord asked. “The first category is Geography. ‘What country has a red circle in the center of its otherwise completely white flag?’”

“Jockeypan,” the Equestrian Dragon answered.

“You’re absolutely correct! And now, on to the physical challenge! You have 60 seconds to pass under that archway and deliver this plate of sushi to your lovely Jockeypanese maiden,”

As Discord handed the Equestrian Dragon a dish of bento, nigiri, sashimi and tamagoyaki, a curtain parted to reveal Sunset Shimmer dressed in a blue happi, a white obi, and wood geta sandals, with her hair pinned back in a bun. And she was sitting tied up on a bench under a traditional Jockeypanese torii.

“But in order to get to her you’ll have to get past my hungry, hungry sumo wrestler!”

Discord pointed to a doorway in the shadows and a tall figure, well built with the large stature and muscles befitting of a rikishi, and clothed in a traditional black mawashi, walked in and positioned himself between Sunset and the Equestrian Dragon. The sumo wrestler then slapped himself across the face, once on each cheek, before assuming a squat stance.

“Sayonara!” Discord laughed.

The clock started to count down and the Equestrian Dragon flew right at the sumo wrestler... only to be bounced back when he hit the wrestler’s belly. The Equestrian Dragon shook his head and flew at the sumo again. But this time, he dove between the wrestler’s legs and reached Sunset Shimmer... with 33 seconds to spare.

“Terrific!” Discord said as he moved toward a colorful, 10-foot wide carnival wheel mounted on a stand, split up into wedges with images of all the different options illustrated on each space. “And now, for bonus points and a chance at a free spin!” he added. “‘In the country of Thrace, why did travel by sea become so popular?’”

“The rocky cliffs and mountains of the Thracian mainland make travel by land both tedious and difficult,” the Equestrian Dragon replied.

“Zing! And let me remind you again, folks, that you’re watching ‘Let’s Save Humanity!’Brought to you by Zenith Industries, makers of the Zing Hand Soap,” Discord said into the camera. “If your hands are dirty, wash them clean with new Zing soap. Now, back to our contestant...” He cackled sinisterly. “Would you like to continue, or leave with what you have? Don’t be a sucker, chum, the next question’s a snap,” he added in a whisper.

“You’ll be sorry!” one of the audience member Discords said.

Discord glared at the duplicate, pulled a hunting rifle out of his suit coat, and shot him!

And he proceeded on... as if nothing had happened.

“The next question is: ‘What was Cleopatrot’s aunt’s maiden name?’”

“Which one, her maternal aunt or her paternal aunt?” the Equestrian Dragon inquired.

“Watch your language, bub, we’re on the air!” Discord exclaimed.

But before the Dragon could respond, the buzzer sounded.

“Oh, I’m sorry! You didn’t answer fast enough. So you must pay the penalty!” Discord said as he motioned to the board behind him. “Will it be ‘Multiple Choice’ or ‘The Molten Pit of Eternal Torment’?” he asked.

The Equestrian Dragon blinked and said, “I’m going to have to go with Multiple Choice.”

“Are you sure?” Discord asked sincerely.

“Uh, yeah!” he replied.

“Fine,” Discord grunted. “No one ever picks the pit!” he added under his breath. “Take a good look, Equestrian Dragon. Will it be curtain Number One, curtain Number Two, or curtain Number Three? You have five seconds.”

Ignoring the shouts of the crowd, the Dragon said, “I’ll take curtain Number Three.”

“As you wish,” Discord replied. “But first, let’s see what you didn’t choose. Behind curtain Number One, a thousand demon dogs from the Ninth Circle of Tartarus... Behind curtain Number Two, a lifetime supply of Devil’s Food cake... Which means, Equestrian Dragon, you are today’s big winner! Congratulations! Audience, let’s see what he’s won.”

It was one thousand beef steaks (flank, strip, T-bone, tenderloin, rib eye, porterhouse and filet, among them) and one dozen Pizza Palace pizzas, one of which was thrown into the Equestrian Dragon’s face.

“Would you like to continue?” Discord asked.

“Yes,” the Dragon replied undeterred.

“Moving on to Round Two, the next category is Sports. ‘In baseball, who holds the record for the longest consecutive game hitting streak?’”

“Joe DiManeggio,”

A bell dinged, indicating a right answer, and Rainbow Dash walked in, dressed in a baseball uniform and holding a wooden bat, which she handed off to the Equestrian Dragon before standing beside a room divider with a single round hole cut into it.

“It’s opening day at the Angel-Dodger Park and Stadium, and you have one minute to hit a homerun through that hole,” Discord explained. “Here’s your ball.”

He pulled out a helium-filled balloon and tossed it into the air as the clock started counting down. The Equestrian Dragon swung the bat, making contact, and the air shot out of the balloon, propelling it out-of-control around the studio, before it flew into the hole... with 39 seconds left on the timer.

“That’s the way to do it! And for being such a good sport, I’m going to give you a crack at the super-deluxe jackpot question,” Discord said. “Are you ready? Now think carefully. Here’s the question: ‘Who,’ mind you, ‘who was the referee in the first ever World Heavyweight Boxing Championship fight?’”

“Buckle Preen,” the Equestrian Dragon answered.

Shocked and angered, Discord looked at the index card he was holding then the audience.

“No coaching, please! What was his second grade teacher’s name, if you’re so smart?”

“Gale Twitch,” the Dragon said.

Stunned but still determined to win, Discord said, “This program’s brought to you by the Zing Hand Soap. Tough but gentle, Zing cleans all dirty hands in the family.”

The next category was Literature.

“I’m sure everyone has heard the stories of King McCracken and his round table,” Discord said. “For five million dollars, name the legendary city where he held his court.”

“Canterlot,” the Dragon stated confidently.

“It certainly was Canterlot,” Discord replied. “And while I’m thinking about it, what’s the word for a trench usually filled with water that you find around an old castle?”

“A moat,” the Dragon answered.

“Moat is right,” Discord said.

He led the Equestrian Dragon over to a makeshift moat in front of a tiny castle—the usual scenario of a knight on a white horse rescuing a princess from the clutches of an evil dragon—with another Discord duplicate as the knight on horseback, which was just a rocking horse with a heavily modified lawnmower engine... and Rarity dressed as the beautiful princess, complete with a medieval dress and hennin.

“One of the books Mark Twang wrote was A Connecticolt Kid in King McCraken’s Court--a time of brave knights, stone castles, and no indoor plumbing,” Discord went on. “But instead of rescuing the fair princess, your objective is to joust past the knight protecting her, capture his flag, and claim the princess for your own... Just like a real dragon. Go!”

The Equestrian Dragon charged the knight-Discord and effortlessly tossed him aside before capturing the flag and rescuing Rarity.

With a resentful smile, Discord walked up to the Dragon and said, “Now, in my hands, you’ll notice I hold two buzzers. You must push one. Hurry now! Which one? Quick!”

The Equestrian Dragon pressed the buzzer that was in Discord’s right hand... and a bank vault (containing the five million bucks in cash) dropped from the ceiling and onto the Equestrian Dragon.

“Aren’t we gruesome?” Discord asked. “You’re a great sport. A great sport,” he said as the Dragon emerged from the safe as its door swung open. “And for being such a great sport, I’m going to let you push the other button and win a prize. Come on now, don’t be bashful. Push it!”

The Dragon did... and a large boulder dropped on top of him.

“And the Equestrian Dragon wins the Rock of Gibrayaltar!” Discord proclaimed as he pulled the Dragon out from under the monolithic promontory. “And that’s not all! The gentledragon also wins... six hundred gallons of genuine Neighagara Falls water! Give the lucky winner a hand, folks. Would you like to take your prizes and go home now or--?”

“Just give me the next question already,” the Dragon grunted.

“All right, what is the word for the sash or a band that men wear instead of a vest?”

“A cummerbund,”

“Cummerbund is right,” Discord replied as he approached a nearby grand piano, which Fluttershy, in an extravagant evening gown, was laying on top of and bound to by several ropes. “I will now play a passage from a famous opera and you must name the opera. Listen carefully.”

As Discord played, he demonstrated a fine control over the dynamics, clearly separating the soloist’s part from the chorus’s while still playing the part of the accompaniment... so unlike him, given his chaotic nature.

“And there you have it,” he said. “Now, what’s the opera?”

“Rigoletto?” the Dragon guessed.

He tried to correct himself, but Discord turned to look toward the audience for the correct answer, and they shouted, “Bizet’s Carmane!”

“So you must pay the penalty!” Discord told him.

He directed everyone’s attention to a wooden gallows set up across the studio, depicting a life-size version of the iconic paper-and-pencil game Hangman, the guessing game where the player tried to guess the word by suggesting letters within a certain number of guesses... and Applejack, in full cowgirl gear, was standing, bound and gagged, on the gallows’ trapdoor with the noose around her neck.

Discord then pointed to a row of twenty-eight blank spaces, representing each letter of the answer, and told the Equestrian Dragon, “Guess the word.”

“It’s antidisestablishmentarianism,” the Equestrian Dragon said.

The longest, non-scientific word in the Trotish language, it referred to a political movement that started in 19th Century Trotland as an opposition to the liberal proposal for the disestablishment of the Church of Trotland as the state church of Trotland and Bales.

“That’s right,” Discord replied as he snapped his talons and the ropes around Applejack and Fluttershy snapped, releasing them both.

“Hooray!” Sunset Shimmer, Rainbow Dash, and Rarity (and even the audience) cheered.

The next portion of the game show was a lightning round, a single round in which the goal was to answer as many questions as possible within the given time limit... which was cut down from one minute to forty-five seconds. The category was Science, and the questions were not exclusive to just chemistry or basic biology. They included physics, climatology, gravity, geology and oceanography.

And instead of Discord asking the questions, it was Pinkie Pie, dressed in a white lab coat reminiscent of any doctor or scientist.

“If an object rolls down a twenty percent incline plane from a height of fifty meters what is its velocity at the moment of impact?” she asked.

“Forty-two foot pounds per square inch,” the Dragon answered.

“What happens to a 96-pound object traveling 1,200 meters into the troposphere?”

“It freezes,”

“What is the rate of acceleration for an object falling from space?”

“Thirty-two feet per second per second,”

“Name the outermost layer of the Earth,”

“The crust,”

“What do you call a rapidly rotating vortex of fluid?”

“A whirlpool,”

“How much weight can a brown-spotted tree frog lift with its tongue?”

“Two hundred and ninety-seven pounds,”

“What barrier would be broken if a body was to travel faster than 768 miles per hour?”

“The speed of sound,”

The questions and challenges kept coming and after almost an hour—sixty whole uninterrupted minutes with no commercial breaks (except for Discord’s shameless product plugs)—the Master of Chaos couldn’t believe that the Dragon still hadn’t given up.

“Well done, Equestrian Dragon,” he hated to admit it. “Thanks to such categories as ‘Benevolent Beings,’ ‘Hooray for Heroes,’ and ‘The Menagerie of Monsters,’ you have won sixty-three billion dollars and two cents, a combination washer-dryer, a dive bar, a Hi-Definition DVD player, a gorgeous state-of-the-art 90-inch stereophonic surround sound wide screen plasma T.V., a pair of new motorcycles, two high performance All-Terrain Vehicles, his and hers mountain bikes, season tickets to the Chicoltgo Bulls, a pair of matching jet skis, a 17-karat gold tiara, a pair of solid gold brass knuckles, an all expenses paid week-long vacation to Haywaii, as well as ownership of the Rocky Mountains, the La Bray Tar Pits, Neighagara Falls, the Rock of Gibrayaltar, Mount Kilimanejaro and Mount Everhoof... and are one question away from victory! Do you wanna call it quits and leave with what you have or go for the grand prize and risk it all in our sudden-death round?”

It was his choice: he could either test his knowledge with one more question he had almost no chance of getting right, or square off for an exciting winner-take-all fight to the death.

“You can do it!” Fluttershy cried.

“We believe in you,” Pinkie Pie added.

As weary as the Equestrian Dragon was, he wasn’t about to let Discord win.

“I’ll take the question, Discord,” the Dragon stated. “Give it to me.”

“All right, for the grand prize, and the win, the category is... ‘Mysteries of History,’” Discord said. “Here is the clue. ‘What was the winning strategy used by Flash Magnus at the Battle of Marathon?’”

“Flash Magnus made expert use of... the surprise attack!”

Exasperated, Discord threw up his hands in defeat.

“Oh, well. Fair is fair,” he said. “You have clearly out-dueled me. Here’s your pot, Jack!”

Discord stomped on a button in the floor and the game show set spun again as giant playing cards showing skeletal kings popped out from the walls and swung their swords.

“Well, come on, Dragon!” Discord dared him.

The six girls watched as the Equestrian Dragon nimbly jumped and dived between the twirling blades, and Discord gawked as he snapped his fingers, causing three robots dressed as cowboys, which had been in the shadows behind the gallows, to come to life and aim their guns.

“Fire!” he shouted.

The Equestrian Dragon jumped, avoiding the mechanical cowboys’ gunshots, as Discord slapped another button in the floor and a circular saw blade descended from the ceiling.

“Look out!” Fluttershy cried.

The Equestrian Dragon dodged the saw, which cut off the cowboy robots’ arms. Then he tackled Discord and smashed his clawed fist into the Draconequus’ face. Easily absorbing the Dragon’s punch, Discord threw him into the wall. He then snapped his talons, giving the Equestrian Dragon three heads.

“Yawn,” Discord said.

Groaning, the Dragon pushed his heads together, back into one, and using his tail, the Equestrian Dragon swept Discord’s feet out from under him then roundhouse kicked him. Then, still using his tail, the Dragon slapped Discord five times across the face. Grunting, Discord head-butted the Equestrian Dragon into the wall again.

The Equestrian Dragon then grabbed Discord and ripped him in half! However, Discord simply reassembled himself and attacked the Equestrian Dragon. What started out as a simple brawl quickly evolved into no less than thirteen rounds of thudding, crashing, screeching, glass shattering action... with Discord just countering most of the Equestrian Dragon’s attacks.

“Fool. I can destroy you anytime I like,” he laughed evilly. “You can’t stop me.”

“Oh, yes, I can!” the Equestrian Dragon snarled.

Every book the Equestrian Dragon read said the same thing: only an Immortal had the power to defeat Discord once and for all. Fortunately for the Equestrian Dragon, Grogar had cursed him with immortality.

“But it’s a good thing I called for backup,” the Equestrian Dragon thought. “It’s time to put a stop to this!”

The girls took cover among the audience Discords as the Dragon landed two more punches to the original Discord’s face and rolled away just as the roof was blown off the building and two women in armor descended from the ceiling, one of whom was carrying a net gun, which she pointed and fired at the Draconequus, pinning him to the floor.

“Forget it, Discord,” the one in dark, moonlit armor said. “That net is pure Sphinx hair.”

“All right, you got me. Lock me up! Throw away the key!” Discord shouted. “Hide my radiant personality away in the dark of a prison cell!”

“No,” the one in bright Sun armor stated. “Tartarus is too good for you, you loathsome...”

“HEEELLLP!” Discord yelped like a woman. “This call for help came to you through the courtesy of the Counter Assault Dog Spray. I’m prepared to be defeated now. You may fire when ready. Just make it quick.”

As the Draconequus prepared to be throttled, the two fallen angels produced six supernatural artifacts, which looked more like gems, from their armor and used their combined power to turn the chaotic spawn of darkness to stone.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Discord screamed.

His wide eyes rolled about wildly before staring straight ahead at the Equestrian Dragon and the two angels, and he hardened into a statue, an expression of fear stuck on his face.

Once Discord was defeated, all of the things he had caused were undone. From the damage and vandalism in New Canterlot City to the bad weather all over the world, as well as all the copies of himself, disappeared or they reverted to their original forms and state.

Fluttershy, Applejack, Rainbow Dash, Pinkie Pie, Rarity and Sunset Shimmer all woke up in their own beds the next morning. But when the six girls showed up at Spike’s castle for a special unveiling that afternoon, they couldn’t help but wonder exactly what happened last night.

“Spike, I had the worst dream,” Fluttershy shared. “I had a nightmare of the Equestrian Dragon fighting for us on a game show!”

“Are you sure you dreamt it?” Fleur de Lis asked.

“Well, there have been a few cases of people having the exact same dream,” Sunset said.

“And it sure felt real,” Rainbow Dash added.

Fancy Pants called for everyone to gather on the back lawn, where something was hidden under a large sheet.

“Behold!” he declared as Spike’s butlers pulled the sheet aside.

All of the key department heads of Zenith Industries were present, and they gasped in shock and awe at the new birdbath on Spike’s back lawn. But it wasn’t an ordinary bird bath. It was a huge statue of a creature that had a deer antler, a goat leg, a bat wing and a snake tail.

“This doesn’t look like any birdbath I’ve ever seen,” Rarity said thoughtfully. “I bet Spoiled Rich doesn’t have one like this.”

“Well, it is one of a kind,” Celestia replied.

“Oh, it’s one of a kind, all right,” Applejack admitted. “But what kind of a kind is it?”

“An original,” Luna said.

“An original?” Rarity asked.

“Uh-huh,” Fleur and Fancy both said.

“First one ever made?” Rarity asked.

“Yes,” Celestia and Luna replied.

“And you made it for Spike?”

“Mm-hmm,” the two sisters said.

“I love it!” Spike exclaimed.

While Photo Finish photographed the fountain for the company’s newsletter, several men in black three-piece suits arrived. One of them was a businessman who claimed that he was the President of the NCCA Broadcasting Company.

“Hello. I have sixty-three billion dollars and two cents, a combination washer-dryer, a Hi-Definition DVD player, one state-of-the-art 90-inch stereophonic surround sound wide screen plasma T.V., a pair of motorcycles, a pair of matching jet skis, two high performance All-Terrain Vehicles, his and hers mountain bikes, a 17-karat gold tiara, a pair of solid gold brass knuckles, and the deeds of ownership for a dive bar, the Rocky Mountains, the La Bray Tar Pits, Neighagara Falls, the Rock of Gibrayaltar, Mount Kilimanejaro and Mount Everhoof for Mr. Spike Zenith,” he said. “As well as season tickets to the Chicoltgo Bulls, an all expense paid week-long vacation to Haywaii, one thousand beef steaks and one dozen Pizza Palace pizzas.”

“Oh, good, the catering showed up,” Spike said. “Let me just get out my check book--”

“Oh, no, sir, this is all already paid for,” the other man replied. “This is strictly a delivery, not a buy.”

Sunset Shimmer, Applejack, Fluttershy, Pinkie Pie, Rainbow Dash and Rarity looked at each other then at all the stuff--which the Equestrian Dragon had won on the game show--in amazement, and it caused them to wonder if their shared dream really was just a dream after all.

Author's Note

Next time: While the Equestrian Dragon investigates mysterious robberies, Spike recalls when he stumbled into the life of a woman with uncompromising convictions, great patience and a will of iron... one who changed the field of science and practice of nursing forever.

Healers

As the Sun rose over the home of Bow Hothoof and Windy Whistles, Bow was making a pot of coffee in the kitchen while his wife sat at the table, balancing the checkbook.

“Let’s see, take the three, divide by two, carry the five,” Windy calculated, “plus the mortgage at 8.2 gives us...”

“Fifty-four thousand five hundred one dollars and thirty-eight cents,” Rainbow Dash said.

While she was aloof most of the time, easily bored and distracted, and had a short attention span, Dash could remember anything she saw and displayed an uncanny ability for arithmetic... especially when it came to financial problems.

“I’m sorry, Dash,” Bow greeted his daughter. “We didn’t mean for you to hear all that.”

“You don’t have to spare me,” she replied as she joined them. “Is it that bad?”

“We might have to take out a loan,” Windy answered.

“Another one?” she asked. “The interest alone would put us up to--”

“Honey, please, don’t,” Windy stated.

“Maybe I can help,” Dash said as she put a Pop Tart® in the toaster. “Forget about college and try out for a pro-sports team, I could make a ton of money in endorsement deals.”

“Well, as much as I’d like to see your face on the WheatiesTM box,” Bow replied, “we’d settle for you getting to class on time.”

“Right,” Rainbow Dash said. “That’s $65,200...”

“Go!” Bow and Windy both told her.

“And one,” Dash finished as she grabbed her breakfast and sped off.

Once she was outside, Rainbow Dash joined Applejack, Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy on their walk to class. And while Fluttershy was going over her creative writing assignment, which was a poem about her innermost feelings, Dash explained her plan to them.

“They put my face on a box and use my sport celebrity to sell them as part of a delicious breakfast. Soon, I’ll have enough money to start an empire of my own--a cereal empire!”

“Cereal? With prizes? Like those mini submarines powered by baking powder? Or kazoos? Or little boxes of cereal?” Pinkie asked.

“Fine,” Dash replied. “We can have prizes.”

“Yay, prizes!”

While on their way to the University, they passed an outdoor restaurant, where Sextant—Filthy Rich’s fat, disgruntled accountant—dressed in a Haywaiian shirt, pigged out on a Western omelet with ranch-style potatoes. He waved another man over, and he made his way to the table.

“Don’t use my name,” he stated, as if giving the other man an order.

“Swampy! We got Swampy, here!” Sextant shouted in announcement. “Nobody gives a shit. Nice outfit, by the way. Well?”

“One million on delivery, $500,000 more for each file... That’s no less than one-and-a-half billion, if you get all the evidence off the computer. They’re no use to us if they’re encrypted,” the other man told him. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a can of foam shaving cream. “The bottom screws open. It’s compartmentalized inside. Customs can even check it if they want to. Just remember, you only have 36 hours.”

“That’s up to your man on the plane. Seven o’clock at the airport tomorrow night. Make sure he gets it right and your company catches up on ten years of research... and don’t even think about trying to get cheap on me, Swampy,” Sextant stated. “That was Filthy Rich’s mistake.”

At that same instant, Juniper Montage was in the video equipment repair shop across the street. She had brought in the recording from the University’s Open House day to see if it could be salvaged, and the guy started to have a look at the videotape. He tried to get some of the earlier footage so he could extrapolate some of the spatial telemetry. But all he’d managed to do was clean up a couple of microseconds at the beginning, other than that...

It was completely ruined. The electromagnet overwhelmed the feed and blew it out.

Just then, the repairman’s telephone rang. He answered it and then told Juniper Montage that the call was for her.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Miss Montage. Do you know who this is?”

“Abacus Cinch?” she asked.

“Yes. I’ve been looking for you, Miss Montage. I don’t know if you’re ready to see what I want to show you, but unfortunately, you are running out of time,” Cinch said. “They’re coming for you, Miss Montage, and I don’t know what they’re going to do.”

“Who?”

“Look out the window and see for yourself. Do it slowly,”

Juniper turned and looked toward the restaurant across the street and spotted several uniformed police officers and three federal agents dressed in identical black suits with crisp white shirts, silver bars clipped to their black ties, and dark, sleek, rectangular sunglasses.

The lead agent, Bishop, marched around the tables as the cops split up from him.

“What the Tartarus do they want?” Juniper asked.

“I don’t know, but if you don’t want to find out, I suggest you get out of there. I can help you, but you must do exactly as I say. The alley across the street from you is vacant. Go now!”

Juniper Montage hung up and scrambled to the empty alley just as Bishop and his men turned the corner. She peered out as Bishop and Agent Castle glanced at each other then headed off in opposite directions. Staying as low as she could, Juniper hurried down the alley to the office building at the end of the block and closed the gate behind her. Back at the restaurant, the three suited agents handcuffed Sextant and escorted him to a waiting car, and Spike Zenith, sitting on his motorcycle, watched them in his rear-view mirror then drove off.

Later, in the New Canterlot City Police Department, a bank of video monitors showed Sextant sitting at a table in a stark interrogation room, opposite an empty chair.

Agent Bishop, Agent Castle and Agent Knight walked in. The latter two moved slowly around the room, eyeing Sextant, while Bishop dropped a thick folder onto the table, sat down across from Sextant, and opened the file.

“We’ve had our eye on you for some time now, Sextant,” Bishop said as he flipped through the pages.

He then began to tell Sextant about a recent string of thefts that had occurred in New Canterlot City involving disappearing safes, which had left the local police baffled.

“The owner didn’t see anything,” Bishop told him. “And what’s more, she swears her jewels were still there when she went to take her bath.”

“Whoever took them didn’t leave a single clue behind,” Castle said.

“They didn’t even leave the safe behind,” Knight added.

“Just like all the other robberies,” Bishop stated.

The agents gave Sextant the same look; a look that said, “You might as well confess.”

Then Sextant said, “It’s like the vault just got up and walked away.”

“What did you say?” Castle shouted. “That. Is. Stupid!”

Having gotten nowhere with him, the agents placed Sextant in a holding cell before going about their business. Their orders were to keep an eye on high-profile events until this spate of robberies was solved. Then Bishop left to personally check on an armored truck shipment.

Later that afternoon, Rainbow Dash tore across campus, colliding with other students as she ran through the hallways. She had just been to the library, where she tried to print her paper for her science class, but the printer jammed, and she had to wait until it could be fixed.

Now she was sprinting across the open courtyard while listening to the news reports on her Walkmane pocket radio.

“Police are still no closer to solving the mysterious high-rise robberies. There was yet another jewel heist last night. However, the City Tech security company has no plans to discontinue service,” Nosey News reported. “And in other news, another update on the recent series of ferocious dog attacks. A young man was assaulted and bitten by what he claims was ‘a cross between a Rottweiler, a Germane Shepherd, and city councilwoman Vignette Valencia.’ The man is under psychiatric observation. Miss Valencia was not available for questioning...”

“Excuse me! In a hurry! Sorry!” Dash shouted. “Come on. Come on. I can not be late!”

She rounded the corner just as the bell rang... and ran right into Professor Youngermane.

A former Equestrian States Army Ranger, Youngermane was a large man, tall and muscular, with dark hair and dark eyes that gave him qualities akin to a hammerhead shark. He refused to play favorites and gave credit where it was due. And now that Cadence Amore was the headmistress now instead of Abacus Cinch, he was also the one who managed disciplinary procedures against students.

“Were you going somewhere, Miss Dash?” he asked.

“To your class,”

“My class is over. Do you not see me standing here?”

“I’m sorry. I want to be here--”

“Then be here!” Youngermane sighed softly. “Just look at yourself, Miss Dash. Your grades are on a rapid decline, you’re dressing like a dipstick, eating like a goat, if you’re not late for or falling asleep in class, you always appear exhausted... and your term paper on flight technology is still overdue.”

“I know. I’m planning to write it on Spike Zenith,”

“Planning is not a major at this school,”

Youngermane took a few steps past Rainbow Dash, started to walk away, then stopped and turned to face her again, his thick, dark brow furrowed.

“Zenith is an old friend,” he gave her a fair warning. “You better do your research, Miss Dash. Get it done, or I’m failing you.”

Despite his gruff nature and abrasive personality, and being a stickler for punctuality, Youngermane was a firm but fair instructor. And as much as he didn’t want to admit it, he cared about his students... and he was deeply worried about her.

After their classes ended that afternoon, Pinkie Pie, Fluttershy, Rainbow Dash and Sunset Shimmer met up for a picnic in Beaumount Park.

Fluttershy sniffled as she remembered when Spike used to push her on the swings.

It made her so happy. Then she would go higher and higher until she flew out.

She really missed that.

She wished Spike was there to join them then she saw him at the edge of the park, talking to Rarity, who had been out shopping for boots. So far, she had narrowed it down to 23 pairs.

“Walk me home?” she asked.

“What?”

“Would you take me home?”

“Uh, why should I be the one to take you home?”

“Because you’re a man,”

“That may be true, but why me?”

“You disappoint me,” Rarity said sadly. “It’s okay. I’ll just wander the streets, get attacked, and painfully raped by someone. And then my body will be found in the river tomorrow morning,” she added, very dramatically.

Spike rolled his eyes as he sped away on his motorcycle, passing an armored truck outside Karat and Clarity’s Jewelry Store, and Rarity scowled as she joined her friends. Over the last six months, she had honestly tried to put herself out there on the social front, only to wind up disappointed and aching. Accepting the fact that she was happier alone was easier on her and any potential suitors who invariably failed to live up to her unrealistic expectations. She had no idea how to go about seducing Spike. Her mother, Cookie Crumbles, had taught her how to entice men, what they liked in and out of the boudoir... but Spike was not like any man Rarity had ever known. He wasn’t the sort of man who could be led around like a dog on a leash.

He was not easily lured.

Rarity had tried everything she could think of—she’d even tried to trick Spike into going out on a date with her—but nothing seemed to work.

“Okay, let’s recap what we know,” Sunset Shimmer said.

“Check. Subject, Spike Tacitus Zenith,” Pinkie began as she started going through a file folder she’d pulled out of her hair.

“Wait. His middle name is Tacitus?” Rainbow Dash asked.

“Well, it could be,” Pinkie answered.

“You’ve obviously done your research,” Sunset remarked.

“I assure you, the rest of my report is completely factual,” Pinkie replied.

“Gossip you’ve heard around the city?” Sunset assumed.

“Moving on,” Pinkie said. “Spike has rejected dates and outright sexual advances from the following: Minuette Colgate, Cherry Berry, Golden Harvest, Sprinkle Medley, no relation to Spring Melody, and, of course, Linky Shoeshine. No current photo was available.”

“Spike spiked Shoeshine?” Dash asked.

“As well as all the other aforementioned women,” Pinkie reminded them.

“Well, I have done everything except throw myself at his feet! So why isn’t he even the slightest bit interested in me? I’m cute, aren’t I?” Rarity exclaimed. “I still don’t understand why he chose Applejack over me. I’m more intelligent, more beautiful and certainly more charming.”

Sunset Shimmer scoffed. “And clearly more modest...”

Rarity could walk like a cowgirl, talk like a cowgirl, she could even play guitar with the best of them if she wanted to, but she lacked something that only Applejack possessed.

Instead of “hello,” she said “howdy.” She said “you bet” instead of just “yes”, and “much obliged” when she meant “thank you.” She always held her head up high and had her boots on tight. She could twirl a lasso while sitting in the saddle, she called people “folks,” she wore spurs instead of furs... and she had those cutesy little freckles.

“I don’t know why you’re wasting your time on him,” Rainbow Dash said. “I don’t know if he’s just really selective or if he just isn’t looking for sex, but Spike has said ‘No’ to people much higher on the food chain than you. Half the girls at the University, and half the women in this city, have flirted with him and he has shut them all out cold. Maybe he’s...”

“Oh... Ooh!” Pinkie replied. “Is he?”

“No!” Rarity stated. “Believe me, if that were the case, I would be thrilled! So, what do I do, make him jealous?”

“Well, it is a biological fact that any animal, even the human animal, wants what it can’t have,” Fluttershy said as she watched the Sun go down.

Then the girls went their separate ways.

Later that night, as the cleverly crafted crime wave crashed over New Canterlot City, the Equestrian Dragon was in his cave beneath Pendragon Castle, putting the finishing touches on a new gadget that Zenith Industries had been developing – a device that emitted sound waves that could shatter glass and even scramble radar.

The Equestrian Dragon had already investigated the scene of the latest robbery—it was the third high-rise that week, all with the same M.O.: no prints, no forced entry, almost no physical evidence of any kind—but he had managed to recover one shred of evidence the local law enforcement had completely overlooked: a hair-like filament.

While the Equestrian Dragon examined and analyzed the hair sample under an ultraviolet light, Celestia and Luna entered the cave, having returned from running their own errands in town. Celestia had been to the River Market, where she picked up butter, milk, eggs and syrup (everything she needed to make her famous pancakes), while Luna had been to the bank, the hardware store, and the dry cleaners.

As they joined him, Celestia picked up the phone and began placing an order for delivery.

“Spike, hon, pizza for dinner,” she said. “What toppings do you want on yours?”

“Well, you know I love bacon on pretty much everything,” he replied.

Celestia finished the order and told him, “It will be ready and here in thirty minutes.”

The Equestrian Dragon placed the hair sample under a microscope and his computer’s search matched it to the Artibeus jamaicensis, a species of fruit bat native to Jamaneica.

“And according to this, these scratches from the victim’s dressing table match the bat’s wingspan,” he said to Luna. “So, either someone has trained bats to perform burglaries, or...”

“Vampires?” she guessed.

Spike nodded. “Vampire strength--that would explain why the safes were ripped out of the walls and how the vaults left all those banks. How could I be so stupid?”

Creatures of the night, vampires were driven by insatiable thirst; specialists in abduction, brainwashing and murder. They could take on many forms--they could appear as mist, vapor, even as the fog, and they could vanish at will. The power of their dark desires had no end.

Now, this ancient evil was a modern industry backed by big money.

Still, Spike figured there were fewer bats in the city than thieves—more specifically, vampire fruit bats—so he tried to identify the perpetrator(s) through publicity shots.

“Oh, yes. He’s clearly a smuggler,” Luna said, “and that one screams ‘embezzler’ if there ever was one.”

The Equestrian Dragon searched through his computer’s ever-growing list of beholders, elves, centaurs, fairies, gorgons, giants, leprechauns, lizardfolk, mermaids, ogres, pixies and wood nymphs—over one hundred files of potential suspects, until it stopped on the photo of a pasty-faced freak with red hair. A creep that made maggots look almost human: Ciaran, a bully and a sorry excuse for a vampire from Ponland, who forced his minions to steal jewels for him from all across the Iron Horse Curtain, which separated the Hooviet Union from the rest of continental Europone.

Vampires—he couldn’t stand the likes of them.

Now the Equestrian Dragon knew who was behind this crime wave, but it was still too early to celebrate. Spike didn’t know if this vampire was the only one.

For all he knew, a whole legion could be in town.

Suddenly, a sharp stabbing pain coursed through Spike, and he sighed.

“This can’t be all my life has come down to. I wanted to be something better, once...”

On the pages of ancient Equestrian folktales and lore, a group of great men and women had left the symbols of their greatness. There was Rockhoof’s shovel, Flash Magnus’ shield, Somnambula’s blindfold, and then, just as unexpectedly, a mystical mask. And strangely enough, that was the symbol of one of the mightiest women of all: Mage Meadowbrook.

It was the height of the Thousand Year War, and people—human men and women—were dying by the hundreds, especially the wounded soldiers. The shocking conditions of the field hospitals only worsened potential recovery. And it was into one of these rat and flea-infested facilities, just outside New Horseleans’ Black Market, that Spike found himself.

A long and bizarre sequence of events had brought him there. The street was crawling with supernatural beings unseen by the humans. It was a sensory overload, a barrage to his olfactory senses making him nauseous... as if he wasn’t faint enough already.

He had to find the one known as “The Mystical Mask” before there was no stopping the poison that was coursing through his veins. With each step Spike took, the worse he felt. He knew the poison from the blade was eating through him; he had to find this woman and soon.

Spike stopped at a tree on the corner, leaned and pressed his cheek against it. Upon closer inspection, he noticed it was a tree converted into a house. He craned his neck to look in through one of its windows and he saw a woman sorting books on witchcraft, separating those based on Druidism from those on Wicca, from a collection of relics and runes. She was conversing with a bulky, bearded man who had a valknut tattoo on his arm.

Spike had a sudden feeling that this was the place.

He limped as he shoved open the door, holding his arm against his abdomen, and he stumbled through the doorway, into her home.

“Welcome to Meadowbrook’s,” she said, her back to him. “Ya arrived just in time. I was just about to close up shop. What can I get for ya?”

Spike groaned as he clutched his side. His hand came away soaked with blood.

“Oh, my! What-what h-happened?” she exclaimed as she turned around to face him. “Ya’re pouring blood!”

It took his remaining strength to force his lips to move just so he could breathe.

“Rockhoof, lock the door!” Mage Meadowbrook said.

As the newcomer collapsed onto an ox hide, Meadowbrook dragged a small chest out from under the nearby water basin, placed it on the cushion next to him, and flipped the lid open. It took only a few seconds of rummaging with shaking fingers before she was able to grasp a small square cloth, which she dampened and then used to try and stop his bleeding.

“Don’t move!” Meadowbrook told him as she looked at the wound.

It was red and festering, some sort of white foamy substance oozed from it, and it smelled like death. She swallowed hard and tried not to gag.

“That doesn’t look good,” she said.

“It doesn’t feel good, either,” the stranger replied.

His voice was laced with a hint of humor.

He was awfully calm for someone who was about to die.

“This may sting a little,” Meadowbrook said before she wiped the wound with the cloth.

It was after sundown when Spike felt strength enough to move again; the evening sky had turned from a faint pink to deep indigo. He woke with a start... and instantly regretted it. A wave of nausea passed through him, making him lightheaded once more as he leaned back again.

As he adjusted his senses to his new surroundings, he heard traffic in the distance and the pounding of footsteps on the floor close by. Lying on a strange bed, Spike grunted as he tried to sit up, running his fingers over his head. A wet towel had been applied to his forehead. He glanced around and realized he had almost no recollection of where the Tartarus he was.

He’d made it to a city. Though, he couldn’t be sure which one; the last thing he could remember for certain before passing out was wondering whether or not he’d taken a wrong turn and ended up in Mareidian instead of New Horseleans. Either way, he was at least glad he hadn’t ended up in some wilderness with no way to get to civilization. Here, he could heal and blend in quickly with the humans. The Dragon had no fear anyone would follow him through the Hayseed Swamp since he’d burned it with his fire breath after he’d passed through it.

He wavered, his stomach clenching as he tried to clear his mind.

“Can ya hear me?” a female voice startled him. “Try to open your eyes.”

He did, and when he did, he found himself looking into the most astonishing eyes he had ever seen. They were turquoise, not blue, not green, but turquoise. The evening glow lit her delicately carved face, accentuating her high cheekbones and full lips. She wore no shoes, and her red hair complimented her slight frame.

“Where am I?” he asked.

His quiet voice echoed in the silence of the shop.

“Ya are in the colony of New Horseleans...”

Spike winced, pain lancing through him.

“I am here to help ya,” she said. “Try to not move. Ya were wounded.”

“Sharp, stabbing pain... in my stomach...”

“Do ya remember what happened to ya?” she asked.

Spike nodded in reply.

“That looks nasty,” she said, examining the cuts on his right arm and hand.

“It’s just a scratch. Nothing for you to worry about,”

“Even the smallest wound can kill the strongest soldier if it’s not treated properly,”

Spike could barely lift his head, his body ached so much.

“What happened to ya?” she asked. “Were ya attacked?”

“Long story... ambushed,” he replied.

“Who by, if I may ask?” she inquired carefully. “Ya don’t have to tell me. I understand sometimes we need to keep secrets. I am sworn to heal and protect no matter who comes in.”

“That’s a bit hypercritical, don’t you think?” he asked her.

“Hippocratic,” she chuckled in reply.

“Who are you?” Spike asked.

“My name is Mage Meadowbrook,” she introduced herself. “I am a sorceress. But I am also a healer. I cure the sick.”

“I thought curing people was something only gods could do,” Spike said.

“Not anymore,” Meadowbrook replied.

Now, before the story goes any further, I know what you’re thinking.

You’re thinking, “What’s so weird about a doctor? The world’s got so many.”

But, in those days, there just weren’t any.

People died every day. They got sick, they whined about it, they kvetched, they shriveled up, but they always died. And there wasn’t much that anyone could do.

Mage Meadowbrook was famous throughout the known world for being able to save people who would have been left for dead. Lucky for any one which Mage Meadowbrook served, her medical techniques were state of the art. The wise woman read current medical books and preferred to use herbal remedies, including some from distant Qilina, instead of leeches and boiling oil. She had battled illness and famine countless times.

Now, just to look at her, one might say that Meadowbrook never would make a healer. She was such a small woman... for a human, anyway. Some would have said she was too weak to fight on the front lines of any war.

Her bedside manner was impeccable... even in an unusual, possibly dangerous, situation. But something about his injury felt different, and Spike’s uneasy expression confirmed her suspicions. What she found very odd, as she glanced at the wound, was that it was still bleeding, but was already healing.

“You are very fortunate,” she said. “Rockhoof had to dig out a small piece of the blade.”

She pointed to a small shard of black glass on top of the nearby table.

“Rockhoof?” he asked.

“My husband,” she answered.

Meadowbrook offered Spike a cup of wine mixed with myrrh, a spice that was often used to reduce pain. Spike held the cup to his lips, sipped and then made a face.

“Drink,” she said. “It tastes bad, but it will help.”

Spike managed to drink after several attempts and grimaces. She took the cup from him and then began to clean his wound by gently rinsing it with salt water. Then she saturated it with old wine, which stung, but somehow the acidity of the grapes kept the infection from spreading.

And even though the wound was cleansed, the poison from the blade was still in his system. He needed it purged if he was to live.

Meadowbrook picked up a new cup, ran a finger over the smooth surface, and started to fill it with a pinch of a special blend of herbs—a combination of cedar, rose pedals, willow bark, clove oil, turmeric, and a lavender gin for the base.

“Drink,” she said again. “This will help to counteract the poison in your bloodstream, but it won’t work its way out of your body for a while. It’s the best I can do.”

“How long?” he asked.

“That depends on you and how fast you heal. That was a pretty deep wound,”

Spike did as she instructed, and after downing it all he began to feel drowsy again. As he rested, he could make out the sound of her heart beating.

“You hear it, don’t you?” she asked. “It’s like the beat of a drum.”

Then she began closing his wound with honey. It was only recently discovered that honey had healing properties.

Not only was it good for sealing wounds, but it helped the wounds to heal faster.

He was not comfortable with her being so close to him, but it could not be helped.

“I did my best for your wound, but what about the burden on your shoulders? Ya are still very tired,” Meadowbrook said. “Ya poor thing... Ya are in great pain... and not just your body... but in your heart. That’s why ya have come to me,” she went on. “Ya have been carrying much... I have a spell that can help relieve ya of this burden. But, for it to work, I must lay my hands on ya. Will ya allow me this?”

Spike nodded.

“Ya have carried this pain for a long time. It’s very deep.” She gently placed her hands over his heart. “I feel a lot of good underneath the pain... much beauty, much joy... and love... Ya can close your eyes... if you want to,” she told him. “I also have a special oil. It works as a conductor to help ease any physical pain you are feeling at the moment. Would ya grant me permission to use this on ya?”

He nodded again, slowly.

Meadowbrook hummed to herself as she placed her hands upon Spike and rubbed him down, starting with his face, down his neck, across his shoulders and arms, all the way to the sharp, stabbing pain in his thighs and calves.

Spike didn’t know how long he slept; he’d passed out from the pain of the illness.

Most of the pain had subsided by the time he sat up again, but his body still throbbed. The effects of the poison from the blade hadn’t quite worn off yet, but the pain was starting to go away. He hadn’t realized just how hard he’d been stabbed. Everything had happened so fast.

Meadowbrook smiled as she saw him sitting up.

“How are ya feeling? Do ya feel better?” she asked.

He replied, “Aye.”

“That’s good. Are ya hungry?”

She had put some food on the table: bear meat, baked potatoes and cold milk.

Slowly, Spike got out of bed and made his way over to the fireplace, where he sat. With a shaking hand, he picked up the drink and held it between his hands. Just holding the cool glass gave his burning skin comfort. Then, with a firmer grip, he picked up his plate and ate gratefully.

“Forgive me. I know your name, but I never told you my name,” he said. “I’m Spike.”

“It’s nice to meet ya, now that ya’re not gushing blood everywhere,” she replied.

As she leaned back into the cushion of her own chair, they sat by the fire and they talked.

Even though she’d lived a considerable portion of her life in New Horseleans, a city known for its connection with magic and the supernatural, Mage Meadowbrook had never realized there were so many forms practiced by mortals. Many ordinary humans she’d met in this city applied witchcraft with vary degrees of success and talent.

Still, none compared to her mother, who could absorb any spell from the page and execute it perfectly the first time, or her sister, who could make things happen simply by singing. Even a modicum of magic was impressive to Meadowbrook, who had none herself despite being mystically tied to them both.

Meadowbrook also said that she used to travel all the time, but after she got stuck in a village full of undead she decided she’d rather be a homebody.

Spike kept calm as Rockhoof joined them.

“Let’s make one thing clear from the start,” he told Spike. “You will never be hostile or bear your fangs at her or me. Do we understand each other?”

Spike understood.

“Are ya a dragon, like the legends say?” Meadowbrook asked. “Ya are very strong. It takes a lot to kill a dragon. But whether I am an ally or an enemy... that’s up to ya’ll.”

Even though he was still in his human form, Spike didn’t need to answer her.

The moment she’d laid a hand on him she knew he was different.

Dragons that had passed out were guaranteed to have shed the blood of an innocent.

As for Rockhoof, Spike had met and fought alongside him before. Spike knew that he was the lieutenant commander of the Mighty Helm. But as he looked at him from across the rim of his glass, Spike wondered exactly what Rockhoof considered himself to be.

He was immensely strong, extraordinarily strong even for a human... a human and an ancient one at that. His size and personality weren’t all that different from the rest of the Mighty Helm, but there was one big difference, one huge distinction: he had been able to survive by eating vegetables and very little meat. So, was he just a human with a strong body or an omnivorous being that didn’t eat meat?

“Just who are you?” Spike finally asked him.

It was in the third year of the reign of Baron Iron Ore that he ordered Steela Oresdotter, the captain of the Mighty Helm, to bring men from all of the families—young, handsome, without any physical defect, well informed, quick to understand, and showing aptitude for every kind of learning—into the Baron’s service. The Baron assigned them a daily amount of food and wine from his table, and he taught them language and literature. They were to be trained for three years, and after that they were to enter the service.

Rockhoof was among those who were chosen, but he resolved to not defile himself with the royal food and wine.

“Begging your pardon, ma’am, but why should you see me looking worse than the other men my age?” he’d asked the captain of the Mighty Helm. “With your permission, please, test your servants for seven days: give me nothing but vegetables to eat and water to drink. Then compare my appearance with that of those who eat the royal food, and treat your servants in accordance with what you see.”

And because Steela Oresdotter showed much favor and compassion to Rockhoof, she agreed to this and tested them for seven days. At the end of the week, Rockhoof looked healthier and better nourished than any of the men who ate the royal food. So the Baron took away the choice food and the wine they were to drink and gave them vegetables instead.

Rockhoof went on to explain that it had been years since he met Mage Meadowbrook, but he continued to put his strength to good use even after they had settled down and got married.

“I realized that people needed someone to help them,” he said to Spike. “I focused all my energy into that for over ten centuries. We have nearly been killed countless times and can only save a handful of those we help. In order to improve ourselves, I continue to train myself to be a strong man who eats more vegetables and work out a lot. I am nothing more than a man who is strong... and not just in the physical sense.”

Spike knew that this man was telling the truth.

“So, when you come upon someone who needs your help, how do you treat them?”

“We do exactly what we’re doing with you right now,” Rockhoof replied.

A look of distaste passed over Spike’s face.

“You don’t know the first thing about me,” he stated.

Rockhoof was upsetting him.

“Listen, I’m sure, deep down, you really do want to be friends with humans, but that’s just your dragon instincts talking,” Rockhoof said. “You’re trying to overcome your primal urge to destroy everything that isn’t of value... that’s the most dangerous kind of monster there is, dragon or otherwise. If you believe you can do that, sever all ties with humanity. Stop this before it gets worse.”

“Am I free to leave now?” Spike asked.

Rockhoof shrugged. “Of course you can leave.”

“Thanks for your help,” Spike said.

As he left Meadowbrook’s home, Spike wanted to forget everything he saw and heard that day. He wanted to wish it had never happened.

But then she followed him outside and asked, “Do you have anywhere to stay?”

“No,” he replied.

“How about fresh clothes?” she inquired. “I can wash the ones you’re wearing, and...”

She stopped when she saw the conflicted look on Spike’s face.

“Don’t worry. Nobody is going to find you here,” she assured him.

Then she asked him if he had any interest in learning the art of healing.

Spike didn’t know how to respond.

He had never considered such a thing.

“Join us as we push the boundaries of science,” she offered. “Join us in the great adventure known as health care. But if you want to do this and do it right, then ya’ll listen to me. Ya came to me for help and I gave it to ya. But ya’re going to do this my way. Clear?”

“All right. We’ll do it your way,” Spike said.

So, over the next week, he helped Rockhoof and Meadowbrook clean wounds and make splints from pine trees... until they received a letter from the town of Bridleberg. When they arrived in Bridleberg, Meadowbrook was nervous. She could tell something wasn’t right, but nothing seemed out of place. It just seemed... quiet. She opened the door to the inn, glad to be out of the rain, and saw numerous people lying wall-to-wall, moaning and groaning softly.

Spike had dealt with all kinds of evil before: the Black Death, animals that carried diseases which spread like wildfire, even demonic forces that were attracted to laughter... but he had never seen anything like this.

“What is this?” he asked.

“It’s a plague,” Mage Meadowbrook said.

And it was spreading fast.

Sentries had been set up to keep people out of the city lest they fall ill too, but Mage Meadowbrook wouldn’t hear of it. There were people who needed help, her help.

She tried all of her usual potions, but nothing she had was making anyone better.

“Meadowbrook, a patient’s in danger!” Spike shouted.

“Prepare a cot!” she replied. “We have no time to lose!”

Spike carried the dying man and gently lowered him onto the bed. His breathing had become shallow, his heart rate had slowed, and they were losing the pulse.

“Come on, come on!” Rockhoof shouted. “Live. Live, you idiot, live!”

As Meadowbrook held the man’s hand, it went limp.

“We lost him,” she breathed. “I lost him.”

With a mournful look, the mage walked outside and sat on the steps, hanging her head.

“Who was I kidding to think I could change the world?’” Meadowbrook asked.

“I should have listened to the rest of the Mighty Helm and become a farmer like my parents,” Rockhoof said.

As he stood looking out at the city, Spike tried to think of what to do. Most of the adults and all of the children were stricken... and they were getting sicker.

“It’s over, Spike,” Meadowbrook told him. “We lost a patient... and it was all my fault.”

“What about the thousands of other people out there who still need our help?” he asked.

“Spike, I--” she attempted.

“Don’t you ‘Spike, I’ me!” he stated. “Sure, we lost one patient. Sure, the whole city’s sick. Sure, things look bad. But that doesn’t mean we give up. We can’t give up! Not without a fight! Spike’s Rules #157: Try Something Else. If a soldier’s spear breaks, he picks up a bow and arrow. If he runs out of arrows, he picks up a sword and shield.”

Males, by nature, were problem-solvers. But even though Spike didn’t know if he could or could not fix this problem, he sure didn’t show it. He admired Meadowbrook’s persistence, the way she cared for others, she was someone he wanted to be like... or at least aspire to. They figured that if they couldn’t stop the disease, they could at least keep it from spreading. That led them to search for the source of the contamination.

A second later, Spike spotted something. His eyes narrowed as he focused on several large frogs that were hopping on the other side of the dirt road, moving in an unnaturally straight line as if they were on their way to a prearranged meeting.

“Frogs?” he asked. “They should be in the swamp... unless they found...”

“A food source,” he, Rockhoof and Meadowbrook said.

They followed the frogs along the path until they reached a barn, pushed the big wooden doors open, stepped inside, and saw a multitude of frogs among barrels of oats.

“This must be the food stores for the whole town,” Rockhoof said.

“And these are poisonous frogs,” Meadowbrook said. “They’re brightly colored so they can warn predators the excretion on their skin is toxic... but only if ingested!”

And because they had gotten into the food stores, they had contaminated the town’s food supply, infecting the whole town. Lifting her head, Mage Meadowbrook had an idea.

“Wait a moment. I have an idea! Or something like one,” she said. “I have been toying with something radically new. It’s called ‘medicine.’ But what am I saying? It’s impossible. The ingredients are very rare and they’re scattered all over the world.”

“You got a list?” Spike asked. “I’ll collect them for you!”

“All right, here’s what I need: chunks of ice from the Frozen North, flowers and thorns from every kind of cactus in the world, bananas from Zanzebra, as well as grapes, onions, garlic, wormwood, mushrooms, snake fangs and venom, crushed bones and the eggs of a winter lark,”

And that was the world’s first prescription... and it was the only one that was ever free.

Back at the inn, Meadowbrook set her mortar and pestle on the table and removed two packets of herbs from her satchel. Once Spike had gathered everything on the list Meadowbrook had given him, she told him to mix them all up while Rockhoof boiled water in a big brass pot.

“And now, the active ingredient in this poison,” she said, extracting a bit of the toxin from one of the frogs.

Placing both herbs into the mortar, along with all of the other ingredients Spike had collected for her, she ground them into a powder and stirred them and the powder, into the pot.

Several minutes later, Meadowbrook crouched beside an eight-year-old boy and pressed a cup of the medicine to his lips.

“Here goes nothin’,” she said.

Murmuring soothing words of encouragement, she managed to get the boy to down the liquid in small sips.

“What now?” Spike asked.

“We wait,” Meadowbrook said.

When she returned to check on the boy an hour later, Meadowbrook placed her palm against his forehead and gazed into eyes that seemed more focused. His babbling had ceased and his ill color was beginning to recede.

“It works!” Rockhoof said. “We can cure the plague!”

“Yes, but the battle’s not won until we cure all of Bridleberg!” Meadowbrook exclaimed.

She, along with Spike and Rockhoof began administering more of the cure to everyone that had been affected. Slowly, the moaning and groaning ceased, and the people came back stronger than ever.

“We did it!” Rockhoof shouted.

“And it took every last drop of medicine,” Meadowbrook said as she walked outside.

Once out of sight, she used her skirt to wipe the sweat from her temples and brushed a damp wisp of red hair from her face.

Meadowbrook may not have been the traditional hero, but she had skills that helped her when she was backed into a corner.

She was more than a simple healer, a woman who knew herbs.

These people owed her their lives!

“Mage Meadowbrook, you are a credit to your mother’s memory,” Spike had said. “I admit, I had my doubts, but you are a true hero. And we need all the heroes we can get.”

Blushing from his praise, she shared, “The prophecies say that it would be a dragon who can fight Grogar... and defeat him forever. Maybe that one is you... We will help you in whatever way we can.”

They had stopped the plague, the town was saved and the story went that the people didn’t even get to say thank you before the mage and her companions were on their way. From that day on, Meadowbrook dedicated her life to helping and curing people, and what that great woman did was told and retold all over the world.

Back in the present, the Equestrian Dragon shook his head of the memory of the woman healer who had saved him and sighed again. As much as he didn’t want to deal with vampires right now, he knew he had to. He couldn’t just let them fly about freely.

That’s when Spike remembered something he had seen earlier that day: the armored truck in front of Karat and Clarity’s Jewelry Store—a place that hadn’t robbed yet—offloading items for a local jewelry exhibition. A place full of priceless jewels and expensive watches would be the perfect bait to set a trap with. But first, he had to prepare himself for when he would confront the vampires. So he armed himself with the sonic device he’d been working on as well as a wreath of garlic from his kitchen above ground and placed the wreath around his neck.

After midnight, the Equestrian Dragon sniffed the air as he watched the sky, attuning his senses to the sounds to find his targets. A faint squeaking told him everything he needed.

The Dragon looked up, seeing a single pair of bats, and took off after them. He pursued them to an abandoned station just off the train yard, and when he landed on the roof of the station building, the distinct scent of blood and alcohol assaulted his nostrils.

The Dragon peeked through a hole in the station house’s roof and saw the Diamond Dogs—Spot, Fido and Rover—standing below... with Ciaran himself.

“Apples, oranges, bananas... and a pineapple!” the vampire said. “Very good... You’ve really outdone yourselves. What? No pears?” he asked. “I told you nitwits they like a wide selection. How can you have variety without pears?”

Just as he was about to raise a hand to strike them, the pair of vampire bats flew in through one of the broken windows.

“You’re off the hook for now, gentlemen,” Ciaran told the Diamond Dogs.

The bats landed and transformed into Gray and Lyn, a pair of Jamaneican men with pale dreadlocks, who Ciaran had bitten and converted into his underlings. Most of a vampire’s victims became vampire spawn—ravenous creatures with the vampire’s hunger for blood, but under the control of the vampire that created them. If a true vampire allowed a spawn to draw blood from its own body, the spawn transformed into a true vampire no longer under its master’s control; the spawn could become free-willed when the vampire died. However, few vampires were willing to relinquish their control in this manner... and Ciaran was a sadistic control freak.

“Entre vous, won’t you?” he asked them.

“He never speaks Prench to us,” Spot mumbled.

“You sent for us again, Ciaran?” Gray yawned. “The Sun shall soon be shining.”

“We haven’t even had a chance to eat,” Lyn added.

“Not until you agree to take care of one more job,” Ciaran said.

The two spawn emptied their bags of loot and they took to the sky once more, taking the fruit with them. Jamaneican fruit bats did anything for fruit... and, apparently, so did Jamaneican fruit vampires.

“Hurry back,” Ciaran told them. “That’s the problem with foreign imports--it’s a pain getting decent service,” he added to himself.

A cold prickling sensation went up the back of the Equestrian Dragon’s long neck as he followed the two spawn again, knowing what was about to happen.

“Mon, that Ciaran is one crazy vamp,” Lyn said as they flew over the city.

“You got that right, mon,” Gray replied. “He is one banana short of a bunch.”

The Equestrian Dragon tailed them to Karat and Clarity’s Jewelry Store, and the two vampire spawn shifted into mist and entered through an air vent on the roof. Once inside, they started lifting jewels and handsome watches off their displays with sickening glee.

“Easy as slicing key lime pie,” Lyn said.

The Equestrian Dragon waited for them to finish—they didn’t even notice him since they were so intent on stealing the valuables—then he followed them back to the abandoned train station, closing the gap between them.

“Isn’t commerce wonderful?” Ciaran asked the Diamond Dogs. “Imagine trading nectarines for necklaces, bananas for brooches, and tangelos for tiaras. Oh, I’m so shrewd.” He sighed. “But it can’t last forever. The security companies will wise up and find other ways to secure the jewels, and then I’ll ship those batty fruitcakes back to Jamaneica!”

“Really?” Spot asked. “Gosh. We thought you liked them better than us.”

“What? Better than you, who’ve been with me through thick and thin, boom and bust? You, mi amigos, compadres, mon frères?” However, upon his spawns’ return, Ciaran put on his glad-handing face and asked, “And what have my favorite minions brought me?” He gasped. “Pearls and diamonds and emeralds and--the Equestrian Dragon?!”

Roaring, the Equestrian Dragon used his tail to knock the Diamond Dogs to one side and they fell, unconscious, to the ground. Meanwhile, the two vampire spawn cowered behind their master as they looked up at the Dragon with shock and bewilderment, wondering what was going to happen next. The Dragon and Ciaran exchanged glares, the vampire unfolding his lanky body. He was nowhere near as tall or imposing as the Dragon.

The Equestrian Dragon continued to glare back at Ciaran. They had a momentary standoff then the Dragon took the sonic disruptor out from under his wing and used it to scramble their bio sonar sense, effectively subduing them. Then the Equestrian Dragon grabbed Ciaran, spun him on one clawed finger like a basketball, and drop kicked him into the wall.

“That’s the last jewelry heist you’re gonna pull, creep,” he growled as he dragged Ciaran by his hair. “Not even the world’s greatest vampire can beat a dragon.”

And so, the Equestrian Dragon tore Ciaran’s head off, took a clove of garlic from the wreath around his neck, shoved the clove into the bully’s mouth, and then—using his fire breath—burned Ciaran’s head, reducing it to ash, and ridding the world of one more vampire.

Thus, the vicious vampire’s spell was lifted from his two minions and they were restored to the human men they were before.

The Dragon let them go, and dropped the things they had stolen off on the helicopter pad on the roof of the New Canterlot City police department.

“The missing jewels,” Officer Windstorm said.

“Where’d they come from?” Sergeant Spearhead asked as the Equestrian Dragon watched from the shadows amongst the rooftop.

As the Equestrian Dragon flew back to his lair, he could already hear Inky Quills report, “The stolen jewels were recovered, but the identity of the thieves remains a mystery... not to mention the hero who recovered them.”

And so, with the case solved and the stolen jewelry retrieved, the Equestrian Dragon returned to his castle for some much needed rest.

Buckstreet's Back

Maid Sugarcube, formerly known as Sugarcube Corner, aka the Sweet Snacks Café, was once a failing a ‘50’s joint-style diner. To revitalize business, Mrs. Cake, a thirty-year-old woman prone to flights of fancy, had her team of busty waitresses switch out their usual uniforms for sexy cosplay costumes. They had also done away with the “Rate Our Service” cards--which ranked everything from the wait staff to the food, as well as the general atmosphere, cleanliness and ambience on the scale of good, fair or poor--since the food critic Zesty Gourmand ticked all of the “poor” boxes.

There, Fluttershy’s brother, Zephyr Breeze, perused the New Canterlot City Gazette’s classified ads while he sat in a booth with Sunburst, Stormwalker, Rainbow Dash and Bulk Biceps. Rainbow Dash was more interested in the Gazette’s headline, “Equestrian Dragon: Is He the Murderer the Police Say He Is?” but when she asked Zephyr Breeze why he was looking at the want ads, he told her that his horoscope said to look for new job opportunities.

“Wow, another job, another brilliant way to get yourself canned,” she said.

“I’ve quit that, quit that, quit that, and quit that... Ugh! And I’m not even allowed to go in there, much less shop!” Zephyr Breeze groaned. “These want ads suck!”

“You might as well face it, Zeph: you’re unemployable,” Stormwalker said.

“Then how am I supposed to pay for that ski trip next year?” Zephyr Breeze complained. “I am seriously low on cash.”

“No. We are seriously low on cash,” Stormwalker corrected him. “If I had ten bucks for every one that you owe me, I’d have... I’d need a calculator, but you’d owe me a lot, man.”

“Count me in for some of that action, too,” Bulk Biceps said.

“I get first dibs,” Dash put in.

“Why?” Bulk asked.

“Um, ladies first?” she replied.

“Oh, right,” he said.

That’s when their waitress, Sunny Sugarsocks, brought them their lunch.

“Okay. Here we go. One order of nachos with cheese, four slices of pepperoni pizza, two orders of mozzarella sticks, one BLT, four extra-extra-extra large root beers, and one slice of carrot cake a la mode,” she said as she served them. “Enjoy.”

“Are you looking for a job?” Sunburst asked Zephyr Breeze.

“I am,” Zeph replied sincerely.

“Well, we’re about to take inventory at Zenith Industries and we could use some part-time help,” Sunburst said.

“Will heavy lifting be involved?” he asked. “Because lifting things violates my religion.”

“Zeph worships at the temple of eternal slack,” Stormwalker translated.

Initially, Zephyr Breeze was heavily against the idea of manual labor, but when his sister’s friends pointed out that it was the only way he was going to make any money, he started to seriously reconsider... especially since they were refusing to lend him anymore.

“Just trying to help you out,” Sunburst said. “I’ve got to get back to work. Later.”

“See ya,” Dash told him.

After they finished their meal, the group went their separate ways—Sunburst returned to Zenith Industries while Bulk and Zeph went back to class at the University, and Dash took off with Stormwalker.

Rainbow Dash was really good friends with Stormwalker. He was clean cut, like a young cadet at a private military school, he was also close to her old gal pals, Flitter and her sister Cloud Chaser, and he bore a passing resemblance to their other guy friend, Thunderlane. Zephyr Breeze, on the other hand, had a goatee, he wore comfortable clothes, he did yoga, he liked wind chimes, he reeked of patchouli... and he was a chronic slacker and freeloader.

“So, what is it you wanted to talk to me about that you couldn’t say in front of the others?” she finally asked.

“Dash... I’m leaving,” Stormwalker stated. “We’re old enough to be drafted now. I won’t serve in Neighsay’s stormtroopers.”

“Where will you go?” she asked.

“Don’t know yet,” he replied. “All I know is I’m going... before the soldiers come looking for me.”

Then he gave her a warm hug and he left.

At the same time, at the New Canterlot City Gazette building, Shady Daze was explaining to Featherweight his idea for a “big scoop” for the newspaper.

“But you’re not on the paper, Shady,” Featherweight reminded him. “You’re just an intern, like me. Besides, they keep turning you down.”

“This is going to turn them around,” Shady Daze replied. “It’s an edgy, hard-hitting exposé I call...”

“‘Tattoo Parlors: Fronts For Drug Smugglers’?” Nosey News said as she swiped the paper from Shady and read it aloud.

“I’m already working on a follow-up piece about illegal firearms,” Shady said.

“Shady--” Nosey began. She stopped to answer her mobile phone when she heard it ring. “Nosey News, Associate Editor... ‘No comment’ is totally unacceptable. I don’t care if she’s the headmistress and a police captain’s girlfriend. I want that story!” She returned her attention to Shady Daze. “You’re giving me nothing here, kid. Where’s the angle, the edge? You want to get on the paper? Write a story that makes me care.”

“I’ll do it. I’m a born reporter. I can smell a story a mile away,” Shady Daze said.

“Maybe Featherweight has an idea,” he added to himself in thought.

Later that afternoon, New Canterlot City’s Fire Commissioner, Chief Fine Gold, had met with Mr. Zenith to discuss the founder-and-owner of Zenith Industries’ more-than-generous donation to the city’s fire department. Spike Zenith was one of New Canterlot’s most respected citizens and not only had he given them a new building (#7), but he gave them a whole fleet of brand-new fire engines on top of that. His name was also the only one on the donor plaque.

Now, Spike was on his way to his next meeting with his chief staff members to talk about their latest contract bids.

“Beautiful language,” he said as he put his Germane grammar book away.

As he walked, Spike looked at the morning newspaper... but he didn’t read it.

He didn’t need to—it was full of nothing but troubling stories.

“What’s gonna be is gonna be,” he thought. “The ‘end of the world’ has been coming since 1903 B.C.!”

When Spike entered the empty conference room, he spoke to Chancellor Neighsay via his military-grade earpiece.

“Now you must confess, I am not the worst man in Equestria, am I?” he asked Spike.

There was some truth in what Neighsay said: his predecessors included drunks, crooks and womanizers (among other things).

“Well, in your defense, I don’t know everybody,” Spike replied. “Actually, Chancellor, I understand you a lot better than you think. Not many people know this, but my mother’s maiden name was Drachen.”

“‘Drachen’? You mean you’re one of us?”

“From way back,” Spike replied.

“Frankly, Mr. Zenith, I would like to improve our relationship even more,” Neighsay said. “Tell me, what is it you would like most in this world?”

Spike hummed thoughtfully.

When he couldn’t respond, the Chancellor asked, “You can’t make up your mind?”

“Oh, I know what I want, the question is, blonde or redhead?”

Neighsay smiled at Spike’s sense of humor.

“But seriously, Chancellor, there is one thing,” Spike went on. “If you would be interested in double-dating with me, have dinner here in New Canterlot City some night?”

Neighsay said that he would at least think about it... before shifting their conversation to his own personal investments in Zenith Industries.

“Yeah, I heard what the Germanes and the Feds both said, and I don’t think we need to overreact,” Spike said. “Look, I’d love to discuss your portfolio with you for another hour, but I’m stepping into another meeting right now. Yeah, one of the secretaries just cracked some guy’s skull open for trying to get a peek up her skirt, so I gotta go do damage control. Yeah, we’ll talk later. Ciao.”

While he waited for everyone else to arrive, Spike saw a glowing orb float towards his building, past the jagged, snow-covered mountains in the distance. The orb flickered as it expanded and the beautiful, angelic, full-figured Celestia and Luna, wearing shimmering dresses (white and blue respectively), appeared inside the conference room.

They turned to Spike and smiled at him... then they led him to the windows, where they showed him their latest gift to him: Mount Drago, aka Spike’s Peak, a death-defying peak in Coltorado, its rocky, snow-filled crags formed the face of a leering monster.

“Tia, Lulu, I said I wanted a statue, but this?” Spike asked.

“It was Chipcutter’s idea,” Celestia explained. “He’s the artist; he’s young and we didn’t want to stifle his creativity.”

“Well, you know I’m all for the arts, but my likeness in dragon form over 10,000 feet high... Don’t you think it’s just a tad pretentious? Wait till Lettermane gets wind of this...”

Spike, Luna and Celestia took their seats at the head of the long conference table as representatives from each department—including Fancy Pants, the CEO, who had a working knowledge of every inch of Zenith Industries; Fleur de Lis, the COO; Sunburst, the head of Research & Development; Photo Finish, the head of the Photography Department; Prim Hemline, the head of Fashion; and Davenport, the proprietor of Quills & Sofas (among others, for a total of two dozen)—assembled. The gofer, T-Bone, served drinks while the other section heads made themselves comfortable and Sleek Fibs finally joined them.

Sleek Fibs was a coward and a cheapskate, the kind of cretin who cried himself to sleep at night because he feared he would never find a life partner.

These negotiations would be short.

Still, a bad feeling lingered as Sleek started talking with them over coffee, and Mr. Zenith thought how the shyster would deal with the Chancellor’s demands.

Even with Zenith Industries’ business expanding in the Ponyville and Maretropolis markets, Neighsay’s administration planned to cut annual expenditures through a reduction in “unnecessary programs” like historical research and experimental tech.

Spike sensed an unusual amount of fear for something as trivial as a trade dispute.

“This time, I’ll be paying fifty million bucks,” Sleek Fibs said. “Any takers? Anyone interested?” he asked. “Anyone at all?”

“One hundred and fifty billion,” Spike stated. “And I won’t take anything less.”

He forced the settlement and Sleek disappeared from the building.

“One hundred fifty billion bucks is still a pretty big deal,” Davenport said.

“We’ll have plenty to eat for a long time,” T-Bone commented. “I’m trying to decide what to have.”

“The Wolf Family has five members and each receives ten shares,” Luna calculated.

“That’s why I demanded a multiple of two, four, five and ten,” Spike told them.

“But Stoker isn’t here,” Fancy Pants reminded them. “And it’s times like these when we need him most of all.”

“Where did he go?” T-Bone asked.

“I’m afraid he’ll be stuck in negotiations in Maredrid for a while,” Fancy said.

“You mean he flew all the way out there by himself?” T-Bone asked.

“He’s fine, unfortunately his plane needs some new wheels on the landing gear,” Fancy Pants shared.

“But if he doesn’t show up, what are the rest of us supposed to do?” Sunburst asked.

“You know the laws,” Spike stated. “Those who don’t work or go to school don’t eat. That’s why I requested multiples that could be divided and distributed accordingly.”

“But, Spike, how did you convince Sleek to accept such a ridiculous price?” Fleur asked.

“It was important enough that he called me up in the middle of the night, so I figured he would be willing to pay extra,” he answered.

Fleur blushed. “You’re so good at getting what you want. I bet you’re just acting cold so that I’ll love you even more.”

“At the same time, since we won the city’s Fire Department Contract, Filthy Rich is in no position to go against us,” Spike added.

T-Bone agreed. “Yeah, that’s right! With our rivals out of the way, we can inflate the prices as much as we want!”

“I disagree with zis,” Photo Finish interjected before taking a sip of her coffee. “Ze bidding process should be fair und honorable. If one party is collaborating with another then it is not fair and that makes us look less than noble.”

“How can you say that with a straight face?” Spike asked. “You always deliberately underbid just so your entourage has the excuse to beat people up. So tell me which one of us is ‘less noble’, Photo Finish?”

The head of the photography department blushed behind her glasses.

“The Jockeypanese have a saying, ‘take every chance you get.’ If you don’t, then to them, you aren’t doing your duty to the best of your ability,” Spike stated.

“Well, if that is the case, it would be wrong to go against one’s duty, then it is fine with me,” Photo Finish replied.

“I agree with Spike,” Celestia said. “There’s nothing wrong with making a little extra money. You think so, too, right, Luna?”

“I don’t think I have the right to offer my opinion here,” she said quietly.

“In any case, we won the bid so we have to do the work,” Spike concluded.

He dismissed them and they returned to their work, while Spike himself joined Fancy Pants in his office to discuss the list of ideas for the company’s possible new creations.

“X-ray glasses? Yeah, right. Hypnosis coin? Give me a break,” Spike said. “Hold on... What’s this? I think we have a winner!”

“An automatic burger flipping machine?” Fancy Pants asked.

“If some kid can create a device to clap lights on and off, we can make a machine that makes and flips the hamburgers so that fast food chains don’t have to pay the armies of punks with absolutely no skills OR sense of customer service to give people lip,” Spike said. “Sticky bun?” he offered. “They’re banned in Europone and Califoalnia, so you know they’re good!”

“Nice!” Fancy replied.

“By the way, how’d the IRS thing come out?” Spike asked. “Are we going to survive?”

“Oh, we are, but Filthy Rich might not,” Fancy Pants answered.

He put aside all of the idea sheets and showed Spike a magazine advertisement for a high-tech massage chair.

“It’s the Shiatsu 2000 Massage Experience,” he said. “Filthy Rich bought the one with the manicure-pedicure option, so he could sit while getting his back rubbed and get a facial too.”

“What’s this got to do with Rich Enterprises?” Spike inquired.

“I think that he and his wife are spending development money on personal items, claiming that they’re business tools, and he’s writing it all off,” Fancy explained.

Spike wasn’t at all surprised; it wouldn’t shock him to learn if it was true.

They were soon joined by Fleur de Lis.

“Licking stamps?” she asked.

“I was, now I’m just answering obvious questions,” Spike retorted.

“Lucky stamp,” she flirted. “You know, a sponge works much better,” she told him. “What’s even better is they make stamps you don’t have to lick.”

“You’ve done this before,” he guessed.

“I’ve done a lot of things,”

“I’m guessing you do them very well,”

“I’ve had no complaints,” she said.

Spike, still looking at Miss de Lis, said, “Mr. Pants, would you leave for a minute?”

Fancy nodded and left his office.

“I’m right outside if you need anything,” he said as he closed the door behind him.

“What’s up, Fleur?” Spike asked.

“We lost the East Side waterfront deal because your chief counsel, your latest attorney, forgot to file an environmental impact report,” Fleur said. “You need someone from Bale, Coltumbia, or from the continental Equestrian States.”

“People of that level of intellect find me shallow,” Spike told her.

“Then hire a woman,” Fleur suggested.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Spike retorted.

“Why, because they would sleep with you?” she asked.

“No, because that would make you too happy,” he countered as the prim Miss de Lis eyed Zenith Industries’ magazine, which featured several shots of women in bikinis.

It was plain to see that the old dragon needed someone. But in Fleur’s mind, Spike needed something much more than a companion. And if she had left it up to him, he would be a bachelor forever. He was married to his work, his responsibilities as the Equestrian Dragon.

Spike was intelligent enough, as dragons went, and Fleur would say that he was a very handsome animal in his own, unique way. She could see no reason why her friend didn’t deserve an attractive mate. Of course, he might have been able to take her seriously if she didn’t carry on like an oversexed tigress in heat.

“You need someone who can not only write a brief, but handle your briefs while they’re at it,” Fleur said. “Hire a real attorney by tomorrow,” she stated.

“Miss de Lis, I have spent years building Zenith Industries into the biggest corporation in the world. And if there is one thing I have learned it’s that business is like the jungle: there are hunters and the hunted, predators and prey, the eaters... and the eaten,” Spike said as he refilled his cocoa mug. “But Zenith Industries is still a family business. Exactly half of my products are used or consumed by women, and I will not have any of my employees insulting our clientele with their monkeyshines.”

“Spike, pardonne-moi, but something has been bothering me,” Fleur said. “How did the Romanes get you into a cage? I can’t even get a guy to drive me to the airport.”

“Iron chains, heavy nets... and a liquid very similar to chloroform. I have never been so weak,” he sighed. “Since then, I have always maintained total control.”

Fleur chuckled. “Face it, Spike, nobody is ever in total control.”

“Speak for yourself,”

“Personally, I like to lose control,” she said. “In fact, I have this fantasy...”

Her voice trailed off midsentence and Spike gave her his signature “You can’t just start something like that and not tell me” look.

Even though she was a longtime friend of the Equestrian Dragon, Fleur barely spoke to anyone outside his inner circle. She had been madly in love with Spike for centuries, but while he cared for her deeply, he didn’t feel the same way and rebuffed all of her romantic advances.

“It’s a hot summer night,” she began again. “I step out of the shower and slip into a soft, silk negligee, and cross to the boudoir where he’s waiting for me.”

“He? Who’s he?” Spike asked.

“Candlelight dances across our skin as I move closer, barely brushing against him. He slips the negligee off my shoulders and lowers me onto the bed. He takes one of the candles and slowly, achingly, seductively... drips hot wax onto my bare nipple. I gasp... and then whisper in his ear, ‘Spike...’” She inhaled. “‘Drop the cup.’”

Spike’s cocoa mug crashed to the floor as he clutched his heart.

“Oh, yeah, you’re in control,” she said as she started to leave. “Just tell me one more thing: why is it so hard for me to meet a nice guy?”

“Maybe because you expect too much and they never want to do what you want,” Spike answered, picking up the pieces of his mug. “Or you’re not looking in the right place.”

“Mm, maybe I’m not,” she said, returning to his side. “What are you doing later?”

“Are you asking me out?”

“I think it’d be fun,”

“Maybe we’re not on the same page here,”

“I mean going out, as in dinner, a movie... naughty time,”

“I don’t eat dinner, and I hate movies,” he replied.

“So you don’t want to go to lunch?”

“Of course I do, but I just got here and I haven’t slept in thirty hours,”

“Okay, but before I go, I want to show you my new blouse,” Fleur said as she unbuttoned her suit jacket and opened it. “Oops. I’m not wearing a blouse.”

“Good, because if you were, I would tear you a new hem,” Spike said.

Fleur gasped as she closed and rebuttoned her jacket and blushed with a smile.

Taco Hut was founded by a pair of brothers—one operated a hot dog stand while the other was a police officer—who served a variety of Mexicolt-inspired fast-foods, including tacos, burritos, nachos and extra-cheesy quesadillas (their specialty). Yet despite being a significant player in New Canterlot City’s Restaurant Row, it was considered by many to be the least-cool restaurant in the city. The waiting staff consisted of primarily young women whose revealing uniform included a lace tank top and spandex short shorts, they were forced to know the lyrics to the company’s theme song by heart and sing it on command.

As he sat at one of the outdoor tables, Shady Daze said, “Help me out, Featherweight. I need a scoop.”

“Why ask me? You’re the born reporter,” he replied as the waitress took their orders.

“I’ll have whatever he’s having,” Shady Daze said. Then, after she’d left, he looked at the restaurant across the street and complained, “Look at them. They don’t have to eat this slop.”

The High Rollerz sat at the same table so much that it was declared “their” table, they even sat in the exact same spots at said table, and one else could not sit at that table unless they were part of their clique. It was an unwritten rule. To them, certain things were sacred.

But Spike Zenith believed that people couldn’t just buy their way into popularity. Many had tried to buy their way into his good graces and had failed. At the end of the day, it was still just a table and sitting at it did not make them better people.

Spike was walking down the sidewalk when he was stopped by Silverspeed.

“Hey, Mr. Zenith! I think it is so great what you do!”

“Which was what?” he asked.

“I mean, how you’re always helping people,” she said. “I think everything you do is really amazing. It’s so C-O-O-L. Why don’t you sit and have lunch with us?”

Spike knew that Silverspeed was stubborn, and when he glanced at her younger sister, Silver Spoon, who said, “I’ll have an omelet, whites only,” he shouted, “You think I want to sit at the most coveted table in the Row just because I have money? I would rather be seen hanging with the Bumble Cruisers MC than be mentioned in the same breath as you snobs!”

And he left.

Silver Spoon asked, “What was that all about?”

“I don’t know. I was trying to be nice,” Silverspeed told her sister.

Featherweight turned to look at Shady Daze, who had been watching Spike, and asked, “Why are you staring at him like that?”

“‘Cause I think I found my story!” Shady Daze replied. “I’m gonna interview the Spike Zenith! And I won’t accept anything less than the hard-hitting truth.”

“Since when does his name have a ‘the’ in front of it?” Featherweight asked as they followed Spike into the bar next door.

When Spike first met the Bumble Cruisers MC (then known as the Bumblebee Motorcycle Company) they were tougher and meaner than the Fallen Angels and the Sons of Tartarus put together. Now, they were some of the lead organizers for the Zenith Foundation and its many charities. As ambassadors for Zenith Industries—and as some of the Equestrian Dragon’s biggest fans—they worked as Spike’s unofficial security force and bodyguards.

Their leader, Sting, was a philosophical fellow who shared Spike’s belief that everyone should be able to have more opportunities in life. He also believed that too much of a good thing made it bad. He had a yellow Mohawk, wore fingerless gloves, a red leather jacket and a patch over his left eye. And while he may not have looked happy to see Spike, he truly was.

The other gang members wore their usual “uniforms” of black cotton T-shirts, black leather boots, black leather pants, and assorted leather jackets which were adorned with an angry black-and-yellow striped insect (their mascot). One of them, named Pointer, had his sleeves rolled up to show off his biceps.

“You know, you got balls coming in here,” Sting said. “But it’s cool. I mean, just because we take money doesn’t mean we don’t have hearts... which reminds me...”

He halted the conversation when he saw Goldcap, Zappityhoof and Decepticolt enter the bar and close in on Spike.

“Not them again,” Spike thought.

“It’s been a while,” Decepticolt said. “We need to talk. Care to explain why you’re paying to sit with people most do not like when you can be with people who like you for free?”

Spike dabbed the corners of his mouth with his napkin before standing up and asked, “Instead of harassing and taking it out on me, why don’t you concentrate on getting back together with your bitches here? Oh, and for the record, Zappityhoof is the one who came on to me. Besides, is a girl who gets worked up over one little peck on the cheek really worth much?”

“What did you say? Who do you think you are, you—?”

Spike grabbed and twisted Decepticolt’s wrist and said, “Shut. Up. How long do you intend to continue this pointless grudge?! In this conflict, the more desperate you are, the more you are bound to lose! You can keep playing this stupid game for all I care, so please go on to your heart’s content! I’ll be watching your every move until you witches burn together and you all become extinct... and I’ll celebrate it! I’ll even hold a service for you at the Founders’ Day Festival along with the Neighzis and the dinosaurs, because like them you are decaying and defunct! There’s no point in coming after me so why don’t you find someone else to pick on, instead? You. Have. Lost.”

Spike released his hold on Decepticolt and he, Goldcap and Zappityhoof backed off when they saw the entire bar of Bumble Cruisers rise from their seats, ready to protect and defend Spike with their lives.

The trio ran out the door as Featherweight carefully placed a hand on Spike’s shoulder and said, “Are you all right?”

“I hate them!” Spike exclaimed. “I wish they would just go away.”

Sting asked, “Really?”

“He did not mean that! In any way, shape or form! Not even as a figure of speech!” Shady Daze said hastily.

“I meant every word of it and then some!” Spike shouted. “I wish they weren’t around ruining people’s lives. I wish I never had to look at them ever again.” He sighed as he threw a hundred dollar bill on the table and said, “Lunch is on me, you guys. Bon appétit.”

As Spike left, Pointer commented, “That guy’s obviously not gettin’ enough roughage.”

“Well, I like him,” String said. “In fact, I think we ought to help him out. And where do you boys think you’re goin’?” he asked Shady Daze and Featherweight as they tried to follow Spike. “You’re looking for a story, right? Well, my crew and I got word of something big about to go down later tonight. We’ll follow the perps after sundown, you keep outta sight while we turn ‘em over to the police.”

“Okay... but why are you willing to risk your life like this?” Featherweight asked.

“Spike was there for me when no one else was,” Sting said. “He saw good in me when no one else did. He helped me, now I’m going to help him. Let’s go.”

In the meantime, Zephyr Breeze was out shopping with his sister and her friends at the Apple Democracy store in the Central Mall.

“It’s cute, but maybe a bit childish for me,” Fluttershy said about a pink dress as she held it up in front of herself and looked at her reflection in the mirror.

“You know what? I think we should get you some sexy underwear on the off chance that you get lucky someday,” Sunset Shimmer remarked.

Applejack was trying on boots when one of her cousins paged her, and she called her back via one of the mall’s payphones.

“Hey, Apple Cobbler, what’s up?”

“Cousin, I have unbelievable news! You are not going to believe this,” she said. “Guess what boy band is coming to our city!”

“If you say the Buckstreet Boys, I swear I’ll scream,” Applejack stated.

“Scream, girl,” Apple Cobbler replied.

“What? The Buckstreet Boys? Here? No way!” Pinkie Pie, who overheard, squealed.

“Cuz, would I lie to you?” Apple Cobbler asked.

The best-selling boy band in history, as well as the girls’ favorite band, was the Buckstreet Boys: AJ McLean, Howdy Rough, Knick Carter, Bari Tone and Bass Literal.

Turns out, Apple Cobbler played volleyball with High Spirits, the girl who brought bagels to Chase Reverb, the guy who ran their sound checks.

“They’re doing a CD release and taping a live video! Here!” Apple Cobbler went on.

“The Buckstreet Boys... in person? Outside of my dreams? This weekend? I am so there!” Pinkie continued to squeal.

She relayed the news to the other girls, sending them (minus Rainbow Dash) into a tizzy.

“Don’t tell me. The Buckstreet Boys are in town?” Dash guessed.

“How did you know?” Pinkie asked.

“Sorry, am I supposed to get dizzy over five no-talent, one-hit wonders?” she replied.

“Yes!” Rarity exclaimed. “Aren’t you coming?”

“I’d rather kiss a horse’s butt,” Dash retorted.

“Finally, a woman with taste,” Zephyr Breeze said. “I was beginning to think every girl on the planet was into the Buckstreet Boys.”

“Wait, it’s going to be on a closed set, right?” Dash asked Pinkie. “As in, no perverts claiming to ‘measure the floors for insurance purposes’? Then count me in.”

So she decided to go along with her friends while Zephyr Breeze watched them go, gritting his teeth in envious anger.

Celestia and Luna paced the floors at Pendragon Castle later that evening, waiting for Spike to join them for dinner. Unfortunately for them, this was a business dinner with Senator Bullhorn, not another one of their fantasies of having a private meal with their hero.

“Where is he?” Celestia asked. “Where could he be?”

“I called him earlier, but there was no answer,” Luna replied.

“He always answers,” Celestia said. “We don’t have time for this,” she added to herself.

They were about to give up when Spike arrived home through the front door, wearing a black tailored suit (a perfect reflection of the Senator’s white one) and mousse in his hair.

“This is Spike Zenith?” Senator Bullhorn asked.

“Oh, my,” Celestia sighed.

“Sister, stop drooling,” Luna whispered.

“Look who’s talking,” Celestia countered.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Spike told them.

“Oh, good, I’m glad ya’re here. We can get started,” the Senator said.

“Who wants a drink?” Spike asked.

They were served a bottle of Spike’s finest wine, as well as popcorn shrimp, shrimp cocktails, and other fruits of the sea.

“Excuse me, I need to powder my nose,” Celestia told them.

“I’ll join you,” Luna said.

After they left, the Senator said to Spike, “Ya and Chancellor Roulade seem to have something in common. Ya and he see things eye-to-eye the Germane way.”

“Well, you don’t spend seven years behind the Iron Horse Curtain without picking up a little pro-Germane mindset,” Spike replied. “I was just glad to have an ally overseas who shares my love of culture... and I try to be realistic.”

“An excellent attitude,” Bullhorn said. “I take it ya’ll like to be on the winning side?”

“Senator, what’s on your mind?”

“Cards on the table?” the Senator asked. “I am convinced that Filthy Rich is cooking his books. And as such, I’m interested in investing in Zenith Industries instead of Rich Enterprises.”

“Oh, is that all?” Spike asked.

“No, I am not done,” Bullhorn stated. “Boy, I say, boy, I am by most measures a successful man. I have wealth and power beyond the dreams of the clock-punchers. And yet, I have lived a solitary life. The fairer gender remains a mystery to me. Ya’ll seem to have a certain way with women, a--how do I put this--animal magnetism. Help me, Spike. Tell me ya secret.”

“Senator, in spite of what everyone thinks, I am no love machine,” Spike said sincerely.

“I am asking ya’ll nicely,” the Senator replied. “Don’t make me beg.”

“I don’t really know, but as ridiculous and cliché as this sounds, wine and dine... bring her a gift, and, ugh... poetry of all nonsense,”

“Of course... it’s so simple, it’s simplicity itself!” Bullhorn said. “I won’t forget this. And tell no one of what has transpired here,” he added in a whisper. “Happened, that is.”

Senator Bullhorn thanked his host for the meal and as he took his leave a pretty blonde in a teal dress and a white ribbon in her hair bumped into the Senator on his way out.

Luna gasped. “Morning Glory? What are you doing here? What happened?”

“It’s Sting. He went for a ride. He was following the Raven Cartel. I went out for an hour and when I got back, his motorcycle was gone. He’s with the rest of the Bumble MCs...”

“Where did they go?” Spike asked.

“Needles’ Tattoo Parlor,” Morning Glory said through her tears. “There were two young men with them. I tried to follow them, but I lost them at the river.”

“Are you okay?” Celestia asked.

“I will be as soon as someone goes after him,” she sobbed.

Celestia pulled Spike aside and said, “Okay, you win. This business with the Ravens is out of control. We have to do something.”

“I will take care of it,” Spike told her.

Later that night, on the roof of New Canterlot City’s local chop shop, the Equestrian Dragon eavesdropped on several conversations.

The first was between a husband and wife that had gone out for the evening, leaving their children snug in their beds with the dog on guard in the garden below.

“But do you think they will be safe without us?” she asked.

“Safe? Of course they’ll be safe. Why wouldn’t they be?”

“Well, Windy said something about a shadow, and I...”

“Shadow? Whose shadow?”

“The Equestrian Dragon’s,”

“Oh, the Equestrian Dragon... the Equestrian Dragon!” he exclaimed. “You don’t say. Goodness gracious, whatever shall we do?”

“But there must have been someone--”

“Oh, really, of all the impossible, childish fiddle-faddle. Equestrian Dragon indeed! How can we expect our children to grow up and be practical when you’re as bad as they are? No wonder they get such idiotic ideas...”

The Equestrian Dragon shifted his hearing to another, younger couple, out on a date.

“I suppose she doesn’t believe in Saint Neighcholas either,” the woman’s boyfriend assumed. “No Equestrian Dragon, no fairy tales, no fantasies of any kind.”

“I believe we should be realistic and completely honest with our children,” she retorted. “Not having them grow up believing in a lot of legends and myths, like dragons, for example.”

The Dragon picked up the sounds of a young salesgirl, Honeysuckle, arguing with a man over a thousand-dollar barbecue grill.

“Hey! You touch it you buy it!” she shouted. “Get out of my sight!”

“Wow, Honeysuckle, zero sales this quarter and still going strong,” her coworker, Peach Blossom, commented. “What’s your secret?”

“Beat it or I’ll announce that you get your lip waxed at Frizzy’s,” she countered. “Come back when you can pay full price like the rest of us,” she growled after the man.

Then he overheard Snips and Snails, accompanied by Rumble, being talked down to by an older, ponytailed saleswoman in a dark gray suit.

“You two again?” she exclaimed. “And who’s he, your parole officer?”

“Well, I was thinking of buying that scarf, but you can forget it now,” Rumble replied.

“Pardon me?”

“I’ll be right with you, ma’am,” she said. “As soon as I deal with the riffraff.”

“Whoa, that’s a lot of numbers,” one female customer commented. “What do you suggest for a woman who’s on a budget?”

“Marry a rich man,” the saleswoman answered snootily. “Or, failing that, the 99¢ store down the street. Ooh! Size four. Aren’t we being a bit optimistic?” She gasped. “Spoiled Rich! How great to see you!”

“Do not touch me, you pompous ass-kisser. I am having a horrible day!”

“Shall I throw everyone out of the store?” she asked Spoiled. “Really. It’s no bother.”

Having heard enough, the Equestrian Dragon gazed down into the street below and spotted one of his targets: Descent, who took a drag from a cigarette before warily glancing over his shoulder. The Shadowbolt glanced around again, crossed the street, and walked into the chop shop, aptly named Dozer’s, where the local grease monkeys were prepping another car to paint.

There was Bandit, whose days of boosting cars came to an end when an ex-police officer decided to show him the meaning of “excessive force”. But just because couldn’t stand up for more than a few minutes at a time didn’t mean he didn’t have an eye for what sold. He had lists of hot cars tacked up on the wall.

“Perfect,” he said. “Would you believe that four Zanzebrans got shot in that thing? That ride looks like I jacked it right off the lot.”

Then there was Driller, who only worked with professionals—if someone with skills at boosting cars came in and was looking for work, he’d set them up with a target—and finally, Bull Dozer, the owner himself, who was currently on the phone with a client.

“Tell Mr. Rich don’t worry... No, I said don’t worry... Yes... I promise, everything is on schedule, we got nothing to worry about... all right, goodbye,” he said. “We are so fucked.”

“You made the deal now we have to deliver the goods,” Driller reminded him. “If we don’t deliver, we’re as useful to him as a used condom.”

Long story short, Filthy Rich put in a big order and Dozer was having trouble finding the cars he asked for. Needless to say, their work was in demand.

That’s when Shadow Surprise pulled into the garage, driving a car he’d just stolen.

“Whoa, whoa!” he exclaimed after counting the cash Driller had given him. “There’s only four thousand here. For a car like this, it’s usually six thousand.”

“We’re in a recession,” Driller said. “Everything’s tough. Now, you wanna try someone else, no hard feelings.”

“No, I just could’ve used some more,” Shadow Surprise replied.

The Equestrian Dragon crawled across the rooftops as the two Shadowbolts left the chop shop and tossed some loose change into a nearby fountain before making a quick stop at their usual hangout. It was Ladies Night at the Main Street Bar & Grill, where “Unescorted Ladies Drink Free”.

The Equestrian Dragon had found his mark: two single guys on the prowl, hunting females with low self-esteem. Of course, they had to make a genuine effort to pretend they were interested in the women, which was tough because a lot of what these particular women had to say wasn’t very interesting... and the guys had to remember the details.

“What’s the matter?” he heard Descent ask his buddy. “Hottest ladies’ night in months and you’re not even checking out the action.”

They didn’t stay very long. After leaving the bar, they made their way over to their boss, Nightshade, who was standing, acting as lookout, outside Needles’ Tattoo Parlor.

After the Dragon took out Legerdemain’s drug labs at the trailer park, the crime boss decided to be a little more discreet in how he moved his product. He had converted the second floor of the tattoo parlor--located just off Pleasant View (the Red Light District in the city)--into another drug lab. Whenever his Ravens cooked up a new batch, they walked downstairs and sold it to the people buying ink from Needles.

The Equestrian Dragon hopped down to the fire escape and peered inside one of the second-story windows. Glimpsing seven members of the Raven cartel sitting at various tables, he smashed the window and entered the tattoo parlor just as Descent asked Shadow Surprise, “So, where you crashing tonight?”

“Do you kids have a permit for whatever you’re doing here?” he asked them. “And what are you doing?”

“The Dragon’s here!” Descent shouted. “Scatter!”

After the Dragon forced his way in, the Ravens tried to defend the four lightly defended drug labs from him but where quickly overwhelmed and forced to split up.

“Nightshade, the Dragon’s here and it’s coming after us!”

“Shadow Surprise, you’ve got to be kidding!” she replied.

The tattoo parlor shook as the Equestrian Dragon darted off the walls and ceilings in the floor above.

“Does that sound like I’m kidding?” Shadow Surprise asked.

“Run for it!” Descent yelled.

Heeding the alert, his peers, the crackheads and the coke whores all raced from the tattoo parlor, putting as much distance behind them as possible... only to run into Sting and the rest of the Bumble Cruisers MC.

“Going somewhere?” he snarled.

Back inside the building, the Equestrian Dragon the headed downstairs and cornered everyone that was still there. They cowered behind a blonde in a black leather racing suit with sickly green lightning bolt accents. Her name was Lightning Dust.

A woman with an impressive reputation for being “Equestria’s most dangerous daredevil”, who specialized in performing death-defying stunts, she was no stranger to danger. She had set a record in the Book of World Records for most broken bones in a single crash: one hundred and eighty-nine. Evil Kinetic still held the record for most in a lifetime, but he was the only one who had her beat. And if she was not in action, she was in traction.

To Lightning Dust, failure was fuel for success.

Rainbow Dash had seen Lightning Dust not only run deadly obstacle courses, but risk life and limb for absolutely no reason.

“This show is a mind-numbing waste of satellite frequencies,” she’d said. “Some kid’s going to get hurt trying to imitate that girl’s stunts.”

And many had... from sneaking into bear cages at local zoos to her greatest feat: skydiving off the Seaddle Space Needle--without a parachute--into a pool of nacho cheese.

“Parachutes?” she’d asked. “We don’t need no stinking parachutes.”

Then there was the incident in New Yoke City, where she attempted the ultimate in extreme action: “the stunt to end all stunts” which included launching herself from a trampoline, through three ring hoops on fire, bungee jumping under a bridge, then—after flipping up and over that same bridge and onto her dirt bike—she would hit a ramp, bouncing up with a half twist, fly over four big yellow school buses filled with ferocious lions and tigers, soar over a water tank containing four great white sharks, jump a volcano, and finally, finish by cannonballing 47,000 feet into a roofless pillow factory... blindfolded! (Don’t ask how.)

“Warning, this may end smiling, blinking, whistling, stamp licking, walking, breathing, nostril functions, the ability to think freely and life itself,” the disclaimer warned them.

“Is a stunt really a stunt if you don’t risk your bodily functions?” Lightning Dust asked.

Her ratings and merchandise sales were at an all-time high... as were copycat incidents.

“It means they’re watching,” she’d said. “It’s not my fault if they decide to imitate me.”

It seemed like she was going to stay on top... until reports of the rash of copycat stunts across the country prompted the network to cancel her show. Ultimately, she was fired for “being a bad role model for kids”, setting a bad example, and being a bad influence in general.

“Surrender now and no harm will come to you,” the Dragon told Lightning Dust. “You’ll never get away with this.”

“Oh, another satisfied subscriber to the Cliché of the Month Club,” she retorted.

He had given her a chance to give up and come quietly, but Lightning Dust had her sights set on beating the Equestrian Dragon.

“I’ll hold him off!” she shouted as she pulled out a switchblade, giving them enough time to escape, which they did... by diving through the tattoo parlor’s front window.

The three Shadowbolts managed to evade pursuit, but Lightning Dust wasn’t so lucky. After a brief grappling match, the Equestrian Dragon retaliated by wresting Lightning Dust’s knife from her and jammed the blade into her thigh. The Equestrian Dragon then forced the remaining Raven Cartel members into a backroom, shut and barred the door, trapping them inside, before destroying the last of the drugs in the tattoo parlor, driving off the rest of Legerdemain’s clientele, whom Sting and his buddies then chained to the dumpsters in the alley, and the Dragon finally flew away, leaving the Ravens and Lightning Dust for the police.

The next morning was a beautiful day in New Canterlot City.

Shady Daze and Featherweight had witnessed the Equestrian Dragon’s feats from the alley across from the tattoo parlor the night before, and took photos of the Bumble Cruisers MC turning the Raven Cartel members over to the police when they arrived on the scene.

“And in our top story, Shady Daze of the New Canterlot City Gazette reports that extreme daredevil, Lightning Dust, is a drug dealer,” Nosey News reported.

“Did you see it, my name in ink?” Shady Daze asked. “The Gazette liked my story so much they’re thinking of giving me a column. I’m also in Equestria Today! I’m national!”

“‘Ace reporter Shady Daze heralded for breaking the story of TV action heroine. Lightning Dust’s ratings plummet faster than her fall from glory,’” Featherweight read the published article. “You did it.”

“No. We did it,” Shady corrected him.

That’s when Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon invited the boys to sit with them at lunch.

“I’m having a little get together tonight,” Diamond Tiara added. “No biggie... just fifty of my closest friends. You have to do a write-up for the paper.”

“Do I?” Featherweight asked.

“How else will the social outcasts know what they’ve missed?” Diamond Tiara asked.

“You could invite them,” Shady Daze suggested.

Silver Spoon laughed. “You are so funny.”

Meanwhile, on Sound Stage 12 at Canter Zoom Studios, director Canter Zoom himself was overseeing the final touches being put on the haunted house set inspired by Michael Jackass’s “Thriller” music video, with the band members dressed as monsters.

As a New Canterlot University alum, Canter Zoom was more than happy to allow Spike Zenith—the man who not only kept the school open, but was also paying the cast and crew all out of his own pockets—the chance to sit in on the filming of the music video.

Spike had invited Applejack, Sunset Shimmer, Rainbow Dash, Rarity, Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy to the studio, and Sting and the Bumble Cruisers MC provided security for them.

“So, three years digging up bones from Jamaneica to Tahayiti,” High Spirits said as she brought Spike a plain bagel. “How did Mrs. Zenith handle that?”

“I’m not married,” Spike stated.

“Really?” she asked hopefully. “A girlfriend or...?”

“No,” he replied. “Frankly, I work too much.”

“So you mean to tell me there’s no one who holds a special place in your heart?”

“No. Not for a long time now,”

“Well, I think you’re cute,” she said.

Spike leveled his gaze at High Spirits and said, “Imagine what that means to me.”

As they sneaked peeks at the Buckstreet Boys being outfitted with their monster hair and makeup, the other girls wished they could dress up as monsters and join them in the video.

Fluttershy was especially excited about the thought of putting on a tight, form-fitting black dress and playing the vampire’s bride.

A few minutes later, the girls got their wish... when Spike overheard Canter Zoom growling and grumbling while making phone calls.

“Is everything all right, Canter Zoom?” he asked.

“I can’t talk right now,” he replied quickly. “The backup dancers just called in sick.”

“Well, sir, today is your lucky day,” Rarity said. “My friends and I could stand in for them. We know all of the Buckstreet Boys’ dances.”

“I don’t know...” Canter Zoom said hesitantly.

“We’ll do it for free,” Rarity said quickly.

“You’re hired!” the director replied.

After the girls, even Rainbow Dash, got into costume, Canter Zoom gave them a quick run-through of the dance they would be doing.

“No, no, it’s hip to the left, hip to the right, spin and then slide!” he shouted. “I want this video to be as magical as my Cushy Tushie toilet paper extravaganza!”

“Your salute to two-ply was a moving experience, sir,” Rolling Stone, his assistant, said.

“Yes. Yes, it was. All right, places, people! Roll camera, and... Action!”

The video started with the Buckstreet Boys’ bus breaking down and the driver insisting that they stay the night in the mansion while he went for help. It then cut to Bass Literal prepared to go to sleep in one of the bedrooms, but an animal poked its head out from under the covers, making him scream in horror.

That’s when the musical portion of the video began—it was a dream sequence in which each Buckstreet Boy appeared as a different movie monster: Bass as the Wolfman, Howdy Rough as Dracolta, Knick Carter as the Mummy, AJ McLean as the Phantom of the Opera, and Bari Tone as a half-transformed Mr. Hyde. And near the end of the video, they appeared together in the mansion’s foyer, performing their routine... with Applejack, Sunset Shimmer, Fluttershy, Pinkie Pie and Rarity throwing their hands up and waving them around in the air.

Canter Zoom thanked the girls for their help and when Rainbow Dash opened her backpack to grab her bottle of water, the other girls noticed several Buckstreet Boys CDs and posters. Upon discovering the merchandise, the girls realized that Rainbow Dash was a closet fan girl. In fact, she was just as much of a fan as they were.

“You like the Buckstreet Boys?” Fluttershy asked. “But you hate boy bands.”

“Okay, yes. They’re awesome,” Rainbow Dash admitted it. “But if you tell anyone else about this, you’re dead,” she stated.

Dash also admitted that she felt really embarrassed about liking them, and her friends reassured her that there was no need for her to be ashamed. Now that they knew her secret, Spike took them all backstage after the shoot so they could meet the band.

“Sparkling apple juice all around!” he said.

“Uh, hi. Um, could you, uh, sign this for me?” Rainbow Dash asked AJ McLean.

“For you, anything,” AJ smiled as he autographed her Buckstreet’s Back CD.

As they exited the movie studio, they were met by Zephyr Breeze, who asked Rainbow Dash, “What’s that behind your back?”

“Nothing!” she lied.

Zephyr Breeze snatched the CD case, whereupon he read the autograph.

“‘To Rainbow Dash, with love, from AJ.’ From AJ?! As in the Buckstreet Boy?” he asked. “And I thought--”

Dash tackled him, retrieving her CD, but caused Applejack to step off the curb in the process. She was about to hit the pavement when Spike reached out and caught her.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “Ya always seem to be at the right place at the right time these days...”

She and the rest of the girls thanked Spike again and he bid them farewell.

Author's Note

Next time: Spike reflects on when he decided that he wanted to move to the new world of Equestria... but the settlers had other plans.

MANDATORY WARNING Before Reading

This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents portrayed herein are fictitious. No similarity to the history of any actual person, living or dead, or actual events, is implied or should be inferred.

If you decided to read this because you think it’s going to be another modern, inclusive crock, click your BACK button right now. Readers hate it when they picture, in their mind, a world full of sunshine and rainbows where every problem can be solved in half an hour, and when the author starts describing it, it turns out to be a living nightmare or a giant hole in the ground? Well, let me put it to you, who wrote this? I did. I am the writer. I can create whatever I want, and that includes characters and ideas that make you want to stop reading this and never think about it ever again... not even to insult it because it would be that much of a waste of your time.

In this story, it’s the years of grunge, fanny packs, and dial-up... where there were no monster hunter T.V. shows, no stupid memes, very little fated romances, when gay rights were just starting to become a topic of conversation, and use of the following words and phrases: “slum”, “ghetto”, “blackmail”, “black sheep”, “plastic surgery”, “sex change”, “blind”, “deaf”, “crippled”, “handicapped”, “confined to a wheelchair”, “maid”, “waitress”, “stewardess”, “chairwoman”, “prostitute”, “salesman”, “right hand man”, “man-made”, “manhole”, “manpower”, “mankind”, “policeman”, “policewoman”, “peanut gallery”, “sportsmanship”, “fat”, “midget”, “retard”, “retarded”, “faggot”, and “that’s so gay” were commonplace.

It contains content and themes intended for mature beings only, including (but not limited to) foul language, trauma, and explicit depictions of violence, assault and murder. This is for those who aren’t upset by the littlest thing, insulted by someone who looks at them “the wrong way”, or those of you who have stolen from me! In short: content of this story will piss off some, if not all. And if you decide to take this seriously, I guarantee that you will NOT enjoy it.

Don’t say that you were not warned.

Author's Note

This one is for lushengli – I don’t know where you are, I do not even know if you are still alive... but whatever has happened to you, I hope that you are all right.

Legends and Myths

The warmth of Pendragon Castle’s main kitchen wrapped around Pinkie Pie like a blanket as Spike rummaged through cupboards, searching for ingredients. An array of cooking utensils were spread out on the counter in front of her as memories of her own grandmother’s foods flooded her mind, the same foods she made whenever someone in the family fell ill.

“It’s a real pleasure watching you cook,” Pinkie said as she reached for the hem of her shirt. “The way you handle cutlery just gets me...”

Spike blushed. “If you’re going to just stand there, could you not take your top off?”

“I know that if I take out my girls, they’ll be safe... even from your choppers,” she flirted.

Her words were filled with playful admiration, her eyes dancing with mischief, as Spike wiped his hands on his apron and he walked around to the stove on the other side of the island.

These women had all had fantasy relationships with him for the past decade, and he was so busy trying to be a better guy that he was cooking for them.

Spike shushed her, held a hand to his ear, and asked, “You hear that?”

Pinkie said, “I don’t hear anything.”

“That’s the sound of all my clothes being refolded,” he told her.

“Man, they don’t stop,” Pinkie said. “How do you survive living with them?”

“I spend a lot of time pretending to be asleep,” he answered as he saw to the steaks.

“What’s that for?” she inquired.

“You, of course,” he replied.

“You left the fat on? My mother always cut the fat off,”

“Why, was she insane? It helps enhance the flavor. Are you going to tell me she didn’t use cheese, either?”

“No, she cooked for health,”

“What could be healthier for you than the food you love?”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Pinkie grinned sweetly.

“Go find the others,” he said. “And I’m sure dinner will be ready by the time you do.”

After what felt like countless hours of walking around, Fluttershy found herself in a room containing many rare exhibits of the hunt. Her eyes went wide at the sight of all the hunting trophies: a lion’s head, an alligator, a crocodile, a rhinoceros, as well as deer, apes, buffalo, rams, a fox, moose, a zebra, three tigers, and an elephant--but mostly boars--were all stuffed and mounted on the walls.

When she looked at them, they seemed to glare right back at her. Suddenly, her mind became filled with thoughts of fangs and claws and talons... and her ears filled with every sound the animals made. She heard every roar, every growl, and every snarl.

It wasn’t until she felt someone touch her on the shoulder that the echo of gunshots finally ceased... and she jumped when they did.

It was only Spike.

“Dinner is almost ready,” he said. “Shall we eat?”

“Yes...” Fluttershy replied.

She was trembling, her voice filled with the embarrassment of being caught snooping--even though he had given her and her friends permission to explore his home--trying to get herself under control, as she and the other girls followed him down the hall and into the lavish dining room lit by warm candlelight.

A white linen tablecloth had been draped across the long, oak table. Nine plates were set, and on each plate a silver fork; moreover, there were nine silver knives and silver spoons, nine freshly pressed linen napkins and eight silver goblets, usually reserved for guests of honor.

Sitting at the head of the table, in place of the ninth goblet was a silver tankard.

Spike’s finest drinking mug, it had survived numerous tavern brawls.

The girls took their seats--except for Celestia and Luna sitting at either side of Spike, there was no particular seating arrangement--and Lemony Crumble served shrimp cocktails while Cobalt Stone poured water.

“I’m starved,” Rainbow Dash said.

Dash was so hungry and thirsty that she downed hers in four seconds.

“May I be excused?” she asked after she’d finished.

Celestia cocked her head. “You’re full already? That was just the appetizer. Here comes the first course.”

Spike clapped his hands and a procession of female servants, blondes and brunettes, each of them 19-years-old, entered with silver platters of steaming roasts, wine in crystal carafes, and ripe tropical fruit in golden baskets. The girls gasped and Pinkie started drooling at the sight of a prime rib and no less than eight different kinds of tender, juicy, beef steaks: T-bones, sirloins, and a rather generous cut of filet mignon, as well as golden mashed potatoes, and a lobster tail with steamed broccoli.

Smothered pork chops and fried shrimp for Applejack, a seven-decker turkey club sandwich for Pinkie Pie, potato stew and fruit salad for Fluttershy, a rolled omelet for Sunset Shimmer, Rigatoni with meatballs for Rainbow Dash; and for Rarity, Chateaubriand with capers and shallots and radish rosettes.

“Mmm. That looks so good,” said Sunset.

Everything looked splendid.

The food was literally shining!

Spike watched Applejack as she stared down at her plate, picked up her knife, carefully cut up her steak, and took a bite.

“Wow, Spike!” Applejack exclaimed. “This is amazing!”

“Help yourselves, I made plenty,” he said. “Take all you want, but eat all you take.”

“You made all this?” Rarity asked as food practically floated onto their plates.

“That’s unbelievable,” Pinkie said.

“What a guy,” she added in thought. “Busting a leg to whip us up a really swell feast...”

Spike smiled—a genuine, heartfelt expression they hadn’t seen often—as they were served a 12-course banquet.

“Is that tuna salad?” Pinkie asked. “Mayonnaise... fresh dill... fresh ground pepper... mashed potatoes, pinto beans, fruit cocktail, Prench dressing, horseradish sauce, this is wonderful. Ohh! Apricots! My favorite delicacy! Oh, Spike, you know how long it’s been since I’ve had apricots? I mean really good apricots, not those store-bought apricots. I love apricots. And is that steak pizzaiola? Real steak pizzaiola with a thick layer of cheese on top?”

“Naturally,” Spike replied. “What am I, a barbarian?”

Pinkie was shocked.

“If I’m dreaming, don’t wake me up!” she warned them. “Don’t even pinch me!”

Fluttershy nibbled some of the fruits, fresh vegetables and bread.

“Wow... th-this is... that’s delicious...” she said.

“Yes! It’s like I wandered into a mythical forest where even the deepest of fried food tastes like they were combined in heavenly wonder!” she and Pinkie Pie both thought. “That was definitely deep-fried, and yet it tasted refreshing.”

“Spike, you have got to share your recipes with me!” Pinkie exclaimed as she gulped down bites of roast turkey, pineapple, custard and a cherry tart.

“Oh, this wine is fantastic!” Rarity declared after taking a small sip from her goblet. “What a lovely bouquet.”

“Red Alpha, a gift from an old friend, Colonel Bud Diamond, ESAF,” Spike said. “I’m... glad you like it.”

“Spike, confess,” Rarity told him. “What is this divine-looking amuse-bouche?”

“If I told you, you probably wouldn’t even try it,” he replied.

“Well, can I please have more of that mushy stuff, whatever it is?” Pinkie asked.

“Certainly,” he said.

“Mmm. Boy, this beef tastes good,” Applejack said with her mouth full.

“Oh, that wasn’t beef,” Spike told her. “That’s alligator.”

“Alligator?” Fluttershy echoed, with a sudden loss of appetite.

She didn’t feel any better when Spike told Applejack to try the chicken. But that wasn’t what bothered Fluttershy. What bothered her was that he accidently called Applejack “sweet cake” and Applejack suddenly recoiled at those words.

The only people who had ever called her that were the Oranges; more specifically, her glamorous, aristocratic relatives Uncle Mosely and Aunt Orange Blossom (née Pear Blossom), when she spent a summer with them in Manehattan.

After her parents died, Applejack didn’t want to spend her life on the farm; she wanted to live the sophisticated life, so she went to live with them, but she found it hard to fit in.

She had never felt more homesick in all her life as she did right then.

“And what about you, dear?” Celestia asked, trying to lighten the mood. “Fluttershy, is it? I understand that you volunteer at the city’s veterinary clinic and animal shelter.”

“Oh, yes, Miss Soleil,” she replied. “I love all animals, great and small.”

“As do I,” she grinned.

“What’s the matter?” Luna asked as a wistful look crossed Fluttershy’s face. “Is it not to your liking?”

The truth was Fluttershy had fantasized about this for so long. The food, the candlelight...

“I just feel a bit guilty enjoying such a lovely evening when one of our former classmates is still listed as a missing person,” she shared.

The other girls nodded in understanding.

“May I confess something awful?” Sunset Shimmer asked. “I can’t help but feel relieved. It’s horrible, I admit it. But, let’s face it, so was the sound of her voice.”

The rest of dinner was quiet, with each bite giving them more time to reflect on the events of the day. Pinkie Pie literally licked her plate clean.

“Mm, attentive service, excellent cuisine,” she critiqued. “However, the décor leaves something to be desired. I’d give this place a solid four out of five stars.”

“That meal was to die for, Spike,” Rarity said as she delicately wiped her mouth with her white lace monogrammed handkerchief.

“It wasn’t much, but I was hoping you’d like it,” he replied.

Fluttershy wanted it to last.

It was a meal to remember.

Later that evening, as the maids cleared the dining room table, Pinkie, Sunset and Applejack wandered around Spike’s living room as Rainbow Dash propped her feet up on the sofa, and Rarity reclined on the plush couch while Cobalt Stone mixed a gin martini behind the bar, the warm glow from the fireplace casting soft shadows all around them. He dropped an olive into the cocktail and served it to Rarity, who downed the drink.

As the girls relaxed, their gazes landed on Spike at the grand piano. His fingers instinctively found the keys as he began to play a soothing melody that seemed to resonate with the very room itself. From out in the hallway, Fluttershy--who had excused herself to use the restroom--was quite speechless; she couldn’t take her eyes off Spike as he played. It was like, it felt like, she was waking up from a dream.

Then, as she stepped into the room to join them, Spike abruptly halted his performance, the final notes of the melody lingered in the air.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” he lied.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt you, it’s just... That’s the song my grandmamma used to sing to me,” she said softly. “How do you know that song?”

“I have heard it in a dream,” Spike replied, “and now it is the only song I hear.”

“Please go on,” she said. “You play beautifully.”

As Fluttershy looked at one of the portraits of a dragon, she noticed something in Spike’s face--a flash of pain--but it was gone as soon as it had appeared.

“Your castle is filled with such amazing things,” she said.

“They have been collected over many years,” Spike replied.

“Still, it’s so strange, that this place should be filled with such unusual things...”

It was true. He had objects of mystery, items worth a lot; some had quite a history, but...

“Sometimes things aren’t as mysterious as they seem,” Spike said.

Despite his casual dismissal, Fluttershy remained unconvinced.

“I am curious, though, if it’s true what they say. What people say... about dragons,” she said. “I want to know more. Please... tell us what you know about them.”

Fluttershy not only believed in dragons, she believed they were real. Ever since she was a girl, Fluttershy wished that dragons were real, and considered herself a “supreme authority” on them and all their marvelous adventures and exploits.

“She’s been obsessed with dragons since we were kids,” Rainbow Dash told him. “She thinks they’re fascinating... especially that Equestrian Dragon.”

“Equestrian Dragon, what’s that?” Rarity asked.

“Ask my sister,” Luna said. “She can tell you more about him than even I can.”

Celestia smiled, but it was a guarded smile, one tinged with caution.

The girls had heard tales of monstrous, man-eating creatures. They had been recounted for centuries by tribes of the Amarezon Basin, some of whom were said to worship giant reptiles as gods and protectors. There was even a legend passed of a journey to a sacred lake. First, one had to pass a waterfall protected by wild animals and other vile beasts. Once those guardians were passed, travel through the land of the Equestrian Dragon until one came to a mountain so high it blotted out the Sun. Follow that mountain for seven days, finally reaching its peak, the head of a giant dragon.

Even Applejack had heard these stories. She had heard these stories all her life, but she had never believed a word of them... that is, until her fifteenth birthday. They had heard, they knew, that dragons were among the most ferocious – and enormous – creatures on earth, growing, in certain cases, as long as several hundred feet. They were known to attack humans when provoked and if their territory was being invaded.

“It is more than just native stories and folktales brought over from the old countries,” Celestia shared.

“Could you please tell us?” Fluttershy asked.

Celestia glanced into the fire then she began to speak of the monstrous creature.

“According to legends, he is over ninety feet long, with a wingspan no less than eighty meters from tip to tip... and some people say that he has the strength of over one hundred thousand lions. But I know--for a fact--he’s more fearsome than any shark, bigger than any whale, and that he stands the height of two Spike’s Peaks,” she said. “When the moon is full and the air is sweet he soars alone through the sky over Equestria, piercing the silence of the forests with his mournful roar. And when he walks, you can feel his footsteps for miles around.”

“You mean... you have actually seen him?” Fluttershy stammered.

“No mortal has ever really laid eyes on him, and those that say they have never got a good look at him,” Luna admitted. “But plenty have claimed to have heard him, stomping his way through the darkness of the night, searching for his favorite food: a rack of garlic roasted lamb served on a delightful bed of angel’s hair.”

“Is that served with a white sauce?” Pinkie inquired.

Sunset Shimmer elbowed her hard in the side.

“Some say he thirsts for human blood, others say he is calling for a mate... I say he is searching for the redemption that he longs for but will never truly achieve,” Celestia went on. “By day, he rules the entire North Equestrian continent from its highest mountain peak, ready to attack anyone who dares trespass on his domain, but by night...”

“He and Bigfoot run the candy counter over at the New Canterlot City Cineplex,” Rainbow Dash interjected. “Now playing on all 14 screens: Dragonheart.”

The girls were so glad that they had decided to spend their evening with Spike. The only way it could be better was if his maids hadn’t entered just to bring him a glass of water.

Tote Bag and Twinkleworks had studied art in Mareis, Prance--that was where they met. They both spoke four languages and had recently worked for one of New Canterlot City’s wealthiest families.

“Unfortunately, they were always on the brink of divorce,” Twinkleworks had shared.

“Well, that wasn’t your fault,” Pinkie told her. “So what if men like to look at you in your birthday suit?”

“Excuse me?” she asked.

“I think what she means to say is that the only way ya get a tan like that is by layin’ out butt naked,” Applejack said.

Spike’s reaction was immediate and intense. He set down his glass with such force that it shattered, scattering shards across the room.

“That’s enough!” he snapped at their explicit rudeness. “They used to work for Filthy Rich! They worked themselves to the bone for that wretched snob and he treated them like dirt, then his whore of a wife had the nerve to fire them!”

Spike’s words cut through the air, echoing sharply in the quiet chamber, his demeanor as cold as the stern look on his face. His sudden shift from inviting to intimidating was disarming, that natural sense of authority that made people hate and fear him.

The girls were about to apologize, but Spike’s face hardened, his jaw clenched, and he said, “You will go now.”

Sitting rigidly, they looked up at him, taken aback by the intensity of his voice.

“You will go!”

Spike watched them stand up, collect their things and then walk to the door, his gaze held, unyielding and dominant, reinforcing his command over his space and the objects within it.

They tried to not look at his eyes as they put on their shoes and left. They stepped out the front door--Park and Fancy Pants were waiting outside with the limo--and it shut after them.

It took all of Spike’s self-control to force them to get out of his castle without assaulting them. It would have been so easy, too. He had them right where he wanted them... and it nearly made him come undone. He knew he had to get them out of there before he did something he would regret—before they did anything they would regret.

Spike’s rage melted into despair as he pounded up the stairs to the sanctuary of his quarters, hiding his face from Celestia as she followed him.

“You didn’t have to be so harsh,” she told him.

Spike didn’t answer her.

“You are so frustrating sometimes,” she said. “You were never like this.”

Spike shrugged. “That was a long time ago.”

“I’ve known you too long,” Celestia said. “You can’t hide your feelings from me.”

“What feelings?”

“How about loneliness?” she asked.

“I’m not lonely. I’ve got everything I need,”

“No, you don’t. You refuse to let anyone love you,”

“Love is for poets,”

He couldn’t risk those girls being there for one more second. It was too dangerous.

He was too dangerous.

His primal emotions would have been too much for them.

He wouldn’t make the mistake of loving them in return. He couldn’t.

As Spike locked himself in his bedroom, his mind wandered back to a day in ancient times—a more primitive, almost prehistoric time—a crucial time in the development of many species, where every man had a private club, every woman wore fur, and backyard barbecues were truly mammoth. A time when boys on the cusp of adulthood spent more time with their elders, seeking wisdom, and telling stories around the campfire...

It was the time when he first gave Celestia and Luna food, shelter, company... and safety.

In a forested valley, a band of ten tall men in animal furs, wielding torches and pitchforks, huddled around a rather small man with a big mouth and large eyes dressed in a simple brown cloak, named Bray, who was holding up wanted posters offering rewards for ogres, dwarves, and other “magical creatures.”

“All right, this one’s full,” an orcish soldier with a pig-like snout and tusks said as a bearded dwarf looked through the barred window of a wooden prison wagon. “Take it away!”

The wagon rolled away as seven more dwarves, chained together, were escorted away from a table where an armored guard broke a witch’s broomstick over his knee.

“Your flying days are over,” he stated.

“That’s twenty pieces of silver for the witch and five shillings for the gnome,” Bray said. “Take them away. Next!”

“Move it along. Come on! Get up!” one of Bray’s guards shouted as he dragged the gnome off to one of the prison wagons.

Next in line, a beefy human man with a round head, wearing brown pants and a brown vest over a dirty white tunic, scowled as he held the end of a rope binding a pair of tall, thin sisters—one fair-haired with sun-kissed skin, dressed in sheep wool and soft, deerskin boots that were laced up to her knees; the other was pale, with hair dark as night, clothed in form-fitting studded leather armor and comfy leather boots with fur trim—who cast worried looks at groups of primordial men in animal-skin tunics who were being sold as slaves, and three other men with painted faces—guerrilla leaders, wearing bearskins—as they were put into cages.

“What have you got?” Bray asked.

“Well, I’ve got a pair of fallen angels!” the man grunted as he pushed them roughly.

“Right,” Bray sneered. “Well, that’s good for ten shillings... if you can prove it.”

At first, Bray was suspicious, as the two sisters gazed at him with big, pleading eyes.

His guards inspected them with curiosity; they were most enthralled by the women’s hair.

“Well?” he asked.

“Oh, they’re just-- They’re just a little nervous,” the beefy man told them.

“That’s it. I’ve heard enough!” Bray shouted. “Guards, get him out of my sight!”

“No, no, no, no, they’re angels! I swear! They are! They are angels!”

As he was being dragged off, the mushroom-headed man kicked the elder of the two sisters in the rear, and a pair of white feathered wings shot out from her upper back in a cloud of shimmering gold dust. She quickly retracted them, but not quick enough.

“They are angels!” Bray shouted. “Seize them!”

Two armored guards converged on the sisters as they made a run for it, dodging two more as they fled across a field and entered the woods.

“After them!” Bray kept shouting as he and his soldiers gave chase as the two women ran into the forest. “They’re getting away!”

Huddled together, the crowd of armored creatures trampled over a “Stay Out!” sign mounted next to another sign depicting a monster surrounded by the words, “Beware: Dragon!”

Frightened, the two sisters kept on running through the trees as Bray and his forces trailed behind them. Suddenly, the pair tripped over the end of a very large, pointed tail. And when they looked up, they gasped in terror at what it was they had stumbled upon.

It was a dragon--a big, shiny, purple dragon--not a friend.

His senses were keen enough to detect the subtle vibrations of every footstep... and hear every breath. Even in his human form he had leveled entire castles... definitely not a friend.

“They went this way! Get them!”

With a panicked look, the two sisters ran into the bushes behind the Dragon as the guards raced over and then stopped.

“You there, Dragon!” Bray shouted.

The Dragon scowled, “Aye?”

“By the order of Emperor Grogar, I am authorized to place you under arrest, and transport you to a designated... resettlement... facility...”

“Oh, really?” the Dragon asked as he loomed over the little man. “Ye and what army?”

One guard, a pig-snouted ogre, snorted as he waved his torch in the dragon’s face, and shouted, “Back! Back, beast! Back! I warn ya!”

The Dragon frowned at the torch-bearing guard as he towering over them. Then the Dragon stuck out his tongue and wrapped it around the flame, snuffing out the ogre’s torch.

The soldiers gasped and then cowered as the Dragon’s mouth opened, revealing rows of sharp fangs. The Dragon roared as they cowered and trembled before him, tears glistening on their whimpering cheeks.

Then the Dragon leaned in close and whispered, “This is the part where ye run away.”

The creatures screamed as they dropped their weapons and took off in a panic.

“And stay out!” the Dragon roared after them.

He turned to walk away, but briefly halted when he heard the sound of laughter among the trees. It was the two women that had tripped over his tail. Their breasts jiggled as they laughed, but they immediately stopped laughing when he found them in the undergrowth.

“I think he’s looking over here,” the older one of them gasped. “Head down.”

“I think he saw us. Now what?” the other asked.

“Act like we’re not here,”

“We’re not here!”

“Shh! What are you doing?”

“Thou said to--”

“Don’t say anything. Shh! We’re sorry,” the elder one apologized to the Dragon as he saw them. “We didn’t mean to trespass in your territory. We swear, we didn’t come here to steal anything, or to anger you, we promise. Please spare us!”

“Please, don’t eat us!” the younger one added. “Thou wouldn’t like us. We’re gamey.”

“Eat her!”

“Oh, thank you very much, Breastia!”

“Moon worshipper!”

“Miss ‘Praise the Sun’!”

“Wide load!”

“Cake butt!” the younger one shouted and then gasped. “We are so sorry.”

“You went too far that time,” the older one said sadly.

“We said we’re sorry,”

“I’m not going to hurt ye,” the Dragon said as they came out from their hiding place.

“You’re... not going to hurt us?” the older sister asked.

“No,” he said simply.

“Well, that’s very comforting to hear from a fire-breathing reptile the size of a small fortress,” she said. “So, if you’re not going to hurt us... does that mean you won’t kill us, or just that you won’t make our deaths painful?”

“I doona eat people,” the Dragon said.

He obviously meant them no harm, and as suddenly as he had appeared, he started to walk away again.

“So the legends are true,” the older sister whispered.

“May we sayeth something to thou?” the younger sister inquired. “That was incredible!”

“Are ye talking at me?” the Dragon asked.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, we art speaking to thou,” the younger of the two replied. “And may we say that thou were truly something back there? We mean, really, really great!”

“Ye’re welcome,” the Dragon told her. “Now, why doona ye go and celebrate yer freedom with yer own friends? Hmm?”

“Well, that’s easy enough to answer: we don’t have any friends,” the older sister answered. “And we are not going back there again!”

As they continued to follow him, the older sister wondered what type of animals roamed these woods. They wanted to keep some distance between them and the Emperor’s forces before finding a safe place to sleep for the night. He was waging war on half the continent of Europone. He was preparing to march against the Drow soon; it would take a few months before he was done with the Dwarves and other Elves.

Then the younger sister got an idea. “We shall stick with thee,” she told the Dragon. “Together, we shall drive away anybody that crosses us.”

“May we stay with you?” the older sister inquired.

“What?” the Dragon asked.

“May we stay with you, please?” she repeated, more politely.

“Well, since ye asked nicely, why the Tartarus not?” he replied.

“Really?” both sisters asked hopefully.

“No! Ye just want a meat shield so ye doona become the next predator’s victim,” he said.

“Thou art one very shrewd male,” the younger sister said.

“Listen, fallen angels, look at me. What am I?”

He stood tall, grim-faced, as if cut from the rugged granite around him.

When they’d first laid eyes on him, they hadn’t seen the crisscrossing scars marring his smooth scales. This male had seen battle, a lot of battle.

When they couldn’t give an answer, he said, “I am a dragon. Ye know, ‘Slay the dragon!’ Does that not bother ye?”

The elder sister shook her head and asked, “Should it?”

“Are ye serious?”

“We have never been more serious about anything in our life,” the younger sister replied. “We know that doesn’t sound like much reassurance, but it’s true.”

Then the older sister asked, “Who are you?”

The question seemed to catch him off-guard.

“We should start with introductions,” she said. “We can’t just keep calling you ‘Dragon,’ after all, so... What is your name?”

“I’m Spike.” His deep voice, drawn rough and strong, reflected his Highland heritage. “And ye are?”

“My name is Celestia. Celestia Soleil, thank you for asking,”

“Luna. Luna St. Selena. Pleased to formally meet you,”

“And may I say that you have beautiful eyes,” Celestia remarked idly.

Spike the Dragon growled as he stomped away from the now smiling sisters.

“You know what we like about thee, Spike?” Luna asked. “Thou hath that I-don’t-care-what-anybody-thinks-of-me attitude. We like that. And we like you.”

They followed Spike uphill until he had reached his destination: a cavern in the hillside.

“You don’t get many visitors, do you?” Celestia guessed.

“I cherish my solitude,” he stated as he left them at the cave mouth set in the rock wall. “I’ll be back.”

Ancient Earth provided primitive Man with all the food he could eat... provided he was smart enough to catch it. By leaping up and grabbing the best fruit from the trees, not only did the dragons eat it and grow strong, but they left the crumbs for mankind so that their species would prevail over the bearded bipeds.

Primitive Man was a hunter. He had an intimate relationship with his food, a spiritual intimacy. They were at one with their meal. The hunter would stalk and kill his prey, then pay homage to the animal’s spirit. He would give thanks to the animal for giving its life.

Now, as the Sun began to go down, the powerfully-muscled Dragon stalked an elk through a thicket. The Dragon slinked under a fallen tree, creeping steadily through the tall grass toward the unsuspecting animal. He crouched low on all fours, his back arched. Locking his gaze on the elk, he snarled as he chased after it. He nipped at the elk’s legs, jumped onto the animal’s head, grabbing it by the antlers, then swung down to the animal’s mouth and yanked it, sending them both to the ground.

“We’re-- we’re going to eat an elk?” Celestia asked.

“No. I am eating elk,” Spike grunted as he shoved a claw into the creature’s mouth and pulled out a fistful of small, round, red fruits. “And only because he stole my berries.”

He gave thanks for the elk--and to the elk’s spirit--before carrying it back to his cave.

Luna had made herself useful picking up sticks to start a fire with before darkness fell. The last thing she wanted was to be out in the dark with no fire. She returned with an armload of sticks, pleased with herself, as the Dragon turned at the entrance to his cave, looked down at the two sisters, and asked, “That’s yer shelter?”

“You are a dragon, you have a whole cave,” Celestia replied. “We are two fallen angels.”

“Ye’ve got half a bundle o’ wood,” he said.

And he began to skin the elk.

The sky darkened as Celestia set about starting the campfire, trying to light one by rubbing two of the sticks together. In the haze of late evening, she and Luna could smell the rain coming. A sudden flash of lightning sparked across the moor behind them, followed by a deafening crack of thunder. Celestia jumped at the noise while Luna tried to hide behind the bundle of firewood she’d gathered.

Inside his cave, the Dragon bent down to the small pile of brush he had collected and gently blew fire into it, which snapped upward. Rain dripped on Celestia and Luna’s heads and they wiped at it, still attempting to make fire, as another flash of lightning lit up the cloudy sky.

Spike looked down at the open flames of his own campfire, which flickered as they cast their golden light across the walls of his cave before glancing toward the cave’s entrance. He sighed as his eyes moved back to the fire.

Then he growled softly and asked, “Do ye... want to share the shelter?”

“Yes! Please! Please!” the sisters begged.

“If you want to stay, ye can,” he replied. “But one. Night. Only.”

Celestia and Luna raced in and sat on the ground by the fire. They were quick to notice that his cave was stocked with furs--and not just bear or wolf, but rabbit, Europone wildcats and beavers, eleven foxes, and a Scolttish red deer. There was even a pelt of an animal they did not recognize; it was orange with black stripes. And a big iron pot hung above the dancing flames.

“That smells good,” Luna said. “Is that squirrel?”

“Nay,” he replied. “Rabbit.”

In addition to the elk he’d just killed, the Dragon had gathered strawberries and a skinned hare was roasting on a rotisserie spit over his fire.

“Keep yourselves warm,” he said. “I’m going to get some water.”

The two sisters must have been hungry, Spike thought.

They had not eaten for days... and their throats were parched. He briefly disappeared deeper into the cave and returned with two wood cups filled with water.

“There’s a natural stream that runs through this cave,” he spoke softly. “Here, drink.”

Was he trying to dispel the thick unease between them?

The cave was cold and the two fallen angels even colder, in body and in mood. Spike the Dragon draped the tiger pelt around the women’s wet shoulders where they sat against the rough, curved wall. Other than that, he didn’t seem to notice them. He didn’t even look their way.

Celestia took a small, round bread roll he offered. For a moment, Spike thought she would refuse or even throw it at him.

“Thank you,” she gritted out and took a bite.

His eyes rose in silent astonishment; manners, even toward a dragon. He shook his head. He’d never understand these beings.

“What are ye doin’ here?” he said at last.

“What do you mean?” Celestia asked.

“Ye doona belong here in my woods,” he told them. “That much is clear.”

“And what do you mean by that?” Celestia demanded.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he replied. “Ye’ve been here for almost two weeks. I’ve watched ye for most of that. Yer idea of hunting is throwing rocks at birds and rabbits and slinging sticks at fish. It’s pathetic. The only thing I think ye’ve eaten since ye arrived here were a few berries and a fish that was already dead. Well, that and the tree bark ye tried to eat.”

He was right. They had been wandering for what felt more like five months, living on what they could find—plants and small animals—and sleeping in the forks of trees so the wolves and other predators couldn’t harm them... until they were captured.

“Why didn’t you help us?” Luna asked.

“That’s easy enough to answer: I didna care. After all, ye are strangers trespassing in my territory... I give trespassers a wide berth, it’s safer that way. I figured ye’d be eaten by wolves by now. Besides, ye would have run as soon as ye saw me. And ye’ve seen how well approaching humans and other creatures works for me,”

“So why now?” Celestia wanted to know.

“Let’s just say I have grown... fond of ye,” he replied honestly. “Like I said, I’ve been watching ye since ye came here. And the longer I watched, the more curious I became. It was amusing, watching ye stumble about, trying to feed yerselves... at first. And then I started to pity ye... a little. I even thought about leaving some food at yer campsite the day before yesterday.”

“Why didn’t you?” Celestia asked.

“Well, because ye had already found food... ye just didna take it,”

“The baby deer,” Luna breathed.

Spike nodded. “Aye. After two weeks, on the brink of starvation, ye came across a fawn; the perfect prey, food for a couple of days right in front of ye... and all ye would have had to do was pick up a rock and bash its skull in... but ye couldna do it, could ye? As hungry as ye were, ye couldna bring yourself to kill a defenseless animal. It was then that I decided giving ye a meal wouldna be enough. It would have only helped ye for a day, maybe two, and then what? Ye’d be back to trying to catch fish with wishful thinking! I know ye doona have any tools, or skills, and yet ye’re still here.” Then he said, “Ye doona have a home to go back to... do ye?”

Judging from the looks on their faces, his guess wasn’t far off.

“Why are ye here, in my forest?” he asked. “What happened to ye?”

Celestia told him that they had been cast away to the realm of mortals because of their disobedience and rebellion. They possessed Light elements by nature, but had acquired Dark attacks through their betrayals, taking advantage of humanity’s greed. They had taken refuge in a settlement under the care of a company of demons that had been kicked out of Tartarus for being “too noble.” And when the “noble demons” were slain by a group of hunters who took over the village, the sisters realized just how foolish they had been.

“But then a plague ravaged the town, killed half the population,” she said.

“Including yer friends?” Spike inquired.

The two sisters nodded.

“My condolences... No one should have to go through that,” he said. “So... ye came here to escape the disease before ye became ill?”

“We were exiled,” Luna said.

“Why?” he asked.

“We were the only ones who didn’t get sick... so they blamed us for it,” Celestia replied.

“I’m surprised they didn’t offer us up as a sacrifice or burn us as witches,” Luna added. “My sister and I started a fire, after that the hill tribes raided the area, took us captive... we managed to escape, until slave traders captured us again, marched us to the coast and traded us to a group who brought us here.”

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “Ye doona have to talk about it.”

Wind and rain thrashed outside as thunder rumbled and shook the mountainside. But they were safe in the cave. These mountains held numerous caves and conduits; he’d explored them in his youth and still didn’t know where they all led.

The Dragon cleared his throat as he turned the hare.

Celestia kept the tiger pelt about her shoulders as she sat before the fire, pulling the ends together in front of her barely concealed breasts. Her body still trembled from the near fatal experience of earlier that day. She and Luna kept their eyes on the fire as Spike removed the hare from the spit, cut off some of the warm, delicious-smelling meat and handed it to them.

“Here. Eat all you want,” he told them. “I have plenty.”

“Oh... I see... hospitality,” Celestia thought.

In addition to warmth and shelter, he was offering them a meal... with no ulterior motive.

Celestia barely stifled her automatic response of “thank you” as she took it.

She looked at her sister as if to say, “Now pay attention... non-verbal communication is key here. We have been offered just enough to be polite but not obligatory... so take a bite, but don’t finish off your food. That signifies courtesy and gratitude, not reciprocal promise.”

However, Celestia finished hers, licked her fingers seductively, deliberately eyed him up and down, and batted her eyelashes at him.

She was about to ask him what she would have to do to make him her mate.

She wanted to make raucous love with him so badly.

And then the Dragon asked, “What deities do ye serve?”

Celestia was almost mortified, but quickly regained her composure.

“We pray to the Maker of Earth,” she answered. “And you?”

“To the Almighty, the Great I Am,” Spike replied. “But I seldom pray to Him. He does not hear me; nor do I hear Him. But He gives me strength. And when I die, I will have to stand before Him, and He will ask me, ‘Were ye a good and faithful servant?’ If I say no, he will cast me out of Paradise and into Tartarus. That’s Him.”

“The Fates said thou would come,” said Luna. “From the isle of scaly creatures, a male of great strength; a kingmaker... One who would someday be conqueror by his own hand... one who would crush the rams of the Earth.”

“Rams? Did ye say rams?” Spike asked.

“What is it thou seeketh?” Luna asked him.

“A symbol on a banner... two rams facing each other...” he said.

“With a sun and a moon below,” Celestia said. “A black sun... and a red moon?”

“What do ye know of this?” he demanded.

“There is a price, Dragon,” Celestia said.

She was offering him a deal, as a prehistoric wolf gained a warm, dry place by the fire in exchange for keeping the cave free of mice, rats and lesser vermin.

Celestia and Luna watched Spike as he tore off one of the elk’s legs and gnawed at it as if it were a turkey’s leg while they ate... until the animal’s bones were picked clean.

“I have no sweets to finish the meal,” he said halfheartedly.

“Raspberries sweetened with honey,” Celestia murmured. “’Tis my favorite.”

Spike the Dragon walked around them to place another fur blanket out on the ground furthest from the rain misting into the cave. Celestia and Luna stiffened as he neared.

“I do not rape,” he said, his eyes level with theirs. “So ye can sleep soundly knowing that I willna approach ye... at least not until ye ask me to. Neither my love nor my body comes cheap. Do ye understand?”

His words hung in the air, a subtle barrier he was placing between them. Clearly, he was not one to make quick decisions regarding personal life.

“Get some sleep,” he said as he lay down near the dying embers. “It’s late and I know ye are tired. We can talk more in the morning.”

The Dragon’s strong tail slid across the cave floor and wrapped around their waists. Celestia nearly screamed when she felt his warm breath against her chilled ear. Luna smiled as she slept against Spike’s side and she and Celestia snuggled under his wing.

So that day ended like all the others did: with no particular objective and nothing to feel passionate about... just another unexceptional day.

What would happen to the two angel sisters tomorrow was unknown, but for the night, they could sleep and recover from their ordeal.