.

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.