Mare Do Well: Rebirth

Chapters

Shadow of the Mare, Part 2
Technomage, Part 1
Technomage, Part 2
A Gem Set In Steel, Part 1
A Gem Set In Steel, Part 2
Bubble Bubble Toil And Trouble, Part 1
Bubble Bubble Toil And Trouble, Part 2
The Shoulders of Giants, Part 1
The Shoulders of Giants, Part 2
Foal's Play, Part 1
Foal's Play, Part 2
Chrome Buster, Part 1
Chrome Buster, Part 2
Old Injuries, Part 1
Old Injuries, Part 2
Black Market Goods, Part 2
Forget Me Not, Part 1
Forget Me Not, Part 2
Smile Through It, Part 1
Smile Through It, Part 2
What Dreams Had Come, Part 1
What Dreams Had Come, Part 2
Black Mark, Part 1
Black Mark, Part 2
Epilogue
Shadow of the Mare, Part 1
Black Market Goods, Part 1

Shadow of the Mare, Part 2

Bon-Bon looked from the armored, shrouded figure at one end of the car to the slim mare that had just stepped in.

“Two of them?” she asked.

Mare Do Well, the one in the old, worn-out costume, rushed through the group while they were paralyzed with confusion, getting between the armored pony and her prey.

“I don’t know who you are, but I’m putting a stop to this,” Mare Do Well said. “You’ve hurt too many ponies.”

“I’m fighting for justice,” the larger pony said. “Black Valintino is a blight on this city.”

“Right now, you’re the bigger problem,” Mare Do Well said. She rushed forward, her body close to the ground like a cockroach skittering across the floor, but there was something wrong, like it lacked an edge that should have been there. The armored pony jumped out of the way before Mare Do Well could strike, hopping to the wall and latching on, bladed hooves leaving deep cuts in the monorail’s steel panels.

“I thought you’d be faster,” the armored fake said, before leaping like a tiger and tackling Mare Do Well, the two rolling to the other side of the monorail car, hitting hard enough to shake the entire train.

Mare Do Well bucked the pony on top of her, trying to throw her off, but her hooves just bounced off the tough metal armor.

“I thought you’d be stronger, too,” the fake continued. She raised a hoof. The razor-sharp blades gleamed in the shifting light as windows and neon signs streamed past the monorail’s windows, poised to strike.

Mare Do Well flinched, but the strike didn’t come. The armored pony hesitated. Mare Do Well swept her leg, knocking her off-balance while her hoof was in the air, rolling out from under her and throwing a lime-green magical blast at her armored almost-twin.

The fake reacted instantly, twisting to let her cape take the shot. The energy cascaded down the fabric, revealing glowing wiring for a moment as the magic was grounded and absorbed.

“You can’t beat me,” the armored pony said. “You’re a hero, but you’re out of date. I’m what the city needs.”

“The city doesn’t need muggers and burglars in comas,” Mare Do Well said. “Give yourself up. If you really want to help, this isn’t the way.”

“I don’t want to fight you,” the fake said. “So I won’t.”

She looked down, the red eyes in her mask glowing brighter for a moment. With a precise motion, she punched her hoof through the monorail’s floor. The lights overhead flickered, half of them not coming back on. The train lurched forward, accelerating.

“What did you do?” Mare Do Well demanded.

“I severed the pneumatic brake line,” the fake said. “You don’t have time to save everypony. Choose wisely!”

The armored pony jumped back, bouncing off the monorail’s wall and leaping through the window she’d broken with one of Black Valintino’s security guards. As the rushing wind outside caught her, her cape shifted shape, snapping into rigid bat-like wings and carrying her away, the mare vanishing as the train careened around a corner, almost derailing.

“Without those brakes, the monorail won’t be able to stop at the next station,” Black said. “If it’s running on schedule, the next train is supposed to leave at the same time we arrive, like a, a continuous flow! We’ll smash right into it before they even know anything’s wrong!”

“That’ll kill everypony on both trains,” Bon-Bon said. “Where’s the emergency brake?”

“There isn’t one!” Black shouted. “The normal brakes are automatic! It’s all supposed to be controlled from outside! There’s not even a driver on board!”

“You said you helped build the monorail, there has to be something!”

Black bit his lip and looked up. “I think… there’s a lock-out, on top of the train cars. It’s only supposed to be for maintenance and testing. There’s no way to get to it from inside!”

“Lyra, can you get it with telekinesis?” Bon-Bon asked.

“I can’t grab it with magic unless I know exactly where it is,” Lyra said. “I can move things, but I can’t feel anything. It’s working totally blind.”

“On top, right?” Mare Do Well asked. She didn’t wait for confirmation, running to the broken window and climbing outside. The wind and the city’s perpetual rain rushed around her, the sleek body of the monorail as slippery as ice.

“No way,” Whisper gasped, watching Mare Do Well scale the monorail, struggling against the torrent.

“She’ll never make it,” Black said. “There has to be something we can do… you, you’re a unicorn! Cast a slow-fall spell on us, and we’ll jump!”

Bon-Bon held up a hoof before Lyra could say something rude. “That won’t save the ponies in the next station.”

Black Valintino glared at her. “No, but it can save us. I’ll pay you anything you want!”

“We’re here to investigate Mare Do Well, Mister Valintino,” Bon-Bon said. “You didn’t want us to interfere. Where she goes, we go.”

“This is different!” he snapped. “Lives are at stake!”

“Yeah. So we better hope she gets that switch,” Lyra said, looking up at the roof.

Mare Do Well would swear if she could catch her breath enough to do it. The wind rushing past her made it almost impossible to breathe, even without the rain pouring down and trying to drown her. If she was just a pony it would have been impossible to keep a grip on the train - the aerodynamic shape left nothing to grab onto, it was moving too fast for a pegasus to fly alongside, and a unicorn that teleported on top would just get knocked off their hooves and find their way down to the ground.

She could see the station ahead and forced herself to move. How well would the brakes work when the rail was wet? Every second could mean disaster.

Mare Do Well got to the top of the trail, finally turning the soft corner to where she could stand. A gust of wind tried to steal her hat, and only a lucky grab kept it from being whipped away in the slipstream.

Thankfully, at least somepony had some common sense. The maintenance panel was clearly marked. Mare Do Well grabbed the handle, twisting it down, and the panel popped open with a hiss before it caught turbulence and flipped open, the hinges squealing. Mare Do Well had to duck out of the way as the light, cheap metal gave out and the bolts tore free, the hatch flying away, flipping end over end. Inside were a tangle of wires and switches.

And one big, red lever.

Mare Do Well grabbed it and pulled as hard as she could. She could feel the resistance on the other end. It felt like it was skipping and refusing to catch like it was actively fighting her. The air filled with the scream of steel on steel.

The station approached. Mare Do Well could see the other monorail ahead of them. Warning lights were flashing, but the ponies on the platform were watching instead of running.

“Come on!” Mare Do Well growled, putting all her strength into it. The brakes kept trying to slip out, gears clashing. She could smell the sparks and hot metal even from here.

The monorail slowed, inch by agonizing inch. From galloping, to trotting, to crawling.

The two trains collided with the sound of tin cans gently tapping against each other, finally coming to a halt.

Mare Do Well collapsed, panting and trying to catch her breath. A few minutes later, a ladder clattered against the side of the train and two ponies climbed up.

“You must be the real Mare Do Well,” Bon-Bon said, carefully making her way over. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Mare Do Well groaned and got to her hooves to greet her. “It’s a real rarity these days. I’m just out of retirement long enough to fix my own reputation.”

Whisper West rushed past Bon-Bon to shake Mare Do Well’s hoof. “It’s so amazing to meet you in person! I don’t know if you know this, but I’ve been writing about you and--”

“I know,” Mare Do Well said. She took off her mask. “I gave you half your ideas.”

“You’re the barista from the coffee shop!” Whisper gasped.

Loop d’Loop smiled. “And your first pre-reader. Let’s go somewhere else to talk.”

“Oh Celestia I love these things,” Lyra groaned, taking long sips of her Frappamochiato.

“I don’t see why we couldn’t go to the good coffee shop,” Bon-Bon grumbled, nursing her cup of black coffee, which had taken her several minutes to get from the teenager behind the counter who kept trying to offer her lattes and mochas.

“I don’t hang out at the same place I work,” Loop d’Loop said. “Though… I did just run out on my shift without permission to save your lives, so I might not have to worry about that so much anymore.”

“And you were Mare Do Well all along…” Whisper West mumbled. “No wonder you had so many good ideas!”

“And no wonder secret information ended up in your books,” Bon-Bon said. “She was feeding you classified information and you didn’t even know it.”

“I wanted to make sure she got the details right,” Loopy shrugged.

“But why work in a coffee shop?” Whisper asked.

“Because they didn’t ask for a background check. I’ve got bills to pay just like everypony else.”

“Any idea who the mare in the armor was?” Lyra asked, between slurps.

“Yeah,” Loopy sighed. “I’ve been letting Whisper have free book signings to try and draw them out. I figured she had to be a fan, you know? And I got a bite a few hours ago.”

“That mare,” Whisper said. “The one who was really excited!”

“Yeah, your biggest fan. I wasn’t sure until the train. They had the same…” Loopy grimaced. “Sickly-sweet feeling. Like pure sugar drenched in maple syrup. She’s a reformed changeling.”

“That’s a weird thing to say,” Lyra said. “Aren’t you a changeling?”

“The point is, reformed changelings don’t need to drain love,” Loopy explained. “All that emotional energy has nowhere to go, so it’s just bouncing around inside her. Imagine if all of your emotions were ten times stronger. What would happen?”

“...I’d go crazy,” Bon-Bon said. “Like manic-depression on overdrive.”

“I bet she doesn’t even realize it’s happening. I just need to figure out where she’s doing it.”

Whisper frowned. “Doing what?”

“Draining ponies takes time,” Loopy said. “It’s not an instant process. She has to get them somewhere quiet and hold them there for days.”

“The victims have been found all over,” Bon-Bon said. “I already thought about where she might be, but she hasn’t even been seen moving them.”

“So she has a way to get around town without being seen,” Whisper said. “Maybe she can teleport!”

“Nah,” Lyra dismissed. “Teleporting is tough. There aren’t even that many unicorns who can manage it. No way could a changeling with no training do it. No offense.”

Loopy shrugged. “None taken. I’m terrible with magic.”

“That’s it!” Whisper gasped. “On the monorail, Mister Valintino said it replaced an old subway system! That would go everywhere in the city, and nopony would go down there on their own!”

“It’s perfect,” Loopy said. “Dark, quiet. Plenty of space to stash ponies.”

“Great! Let’s go,” Lyra said, standing up. “I can finish this on the way.”

“You don’t have to come,” Loopy said.

“Yes we do,” Bon-Bon retorted. “We need to clear your name. Either we come with you, or we won’t be able to prove you’re not the one doing it.”

“I’m coming too!” Whisper said. She smiled shyly. “It’s perfect material for my books.”

Loopy sighed. “It’s going to be a long night.”

“...So you can smell her?” Whisper whispered, following close behind Mare Do Well.

The costumed hero groaned. “Don’t make it sound like I’m a dog. It’s just the easiest way to explain it. You don’t have the right words for it.”

“There’s light up ahead,” Bon-Bon said.

“I see it too,” Mare Do Well assured her. “Where are we?”

Lyra checked the map she’d brought with her, her horn providing just enough illumination to read it. “It looks like we’re right near the Park Row station,” she said.

“Okay. Just stay behind me,” Mare Do Well said.

They edged their way around the bend to the light.

“This place is like a Mare Do Well museum!” Whisper gasped, running out into the open before anypony could stop her. The station was huge, not just a little stop for a subway car but an art-deco design like Canterlot’s Grand Central Station, but tucked underground where nopony had seen it in years. Somepony had taken the time to drag shelves and display cases down there, filling them with books, posters, merchandise, all of it with Mare Do Well’s face.

Loopy shivered. It was strangely unsettling to see copies of herself everywhere.

She pointed to a glass case. “That’s one of the original costumes from Ponyville!” She jabbed a hoof another direction. “And that’s a complete collection of action figures! And look over there! It’s a reproduction of one of Blackout’s Null Rays!”

“Actually it’s original,” said a voice from the shadows along the ceiling.

A huge, angular shape detached itself from the concrete and dropped down, slamming into the ground. Philtrum stood up, her armor gleaming darkly in the limited light of the subway’s remaining bulbs.

“You wouldn’t believe how much I spent on it at the auction,” she said. “But it was worth it to have a real, original part of Mare Do Well’s legacy. I’m glad you like my collection!”

“It’s the only part of your collection I like,” Loopy said. She looked up at where Philtrum had come from. “The part up there isn’t as nice.”

Lyra narrowed her eyes and lit up her horn, casting a cone of light up at the roof of the subway station. Ponies hung in gelatinous pods like fruit, slowly bobbing in their sleep.

“It’s necessary,” Philtrum said. “It takes forever to punish them. Once I’m done, though, they’ll never hurt anypony again, and they’re not even really hurt! They’re just… not all there anymore.”

“Instead they’re totally drained of love and need a pony to lead them around and feed them like a pet,” Mare Do Well challenged. “I remember how Chrysalis used to just kick them out of the hive and let them wander away. They didn’t get far on their own.”

“They’re criminals. I tried just giving them to the police, but it isn’t fair. They hurt ponies! They needed to pay for it!”

“I’m only going to ask once,” Mare Do Well said. “Take off the armor, help me get these ponies outside. You’re sick. I can taste it.”

“I’m not sick. I feel amazing! And I won’t let you stop me. If you won’t be the hero the city needs, I will!” Philtrum widened her stance, fog pouring out of her armor in a protective shroud.

“You three work on getting those ponies down!” Mare Do Well shouted. “I’ll deal with her.” She lowered her stance and stepped forward into the growing cloud of mist.

Philtrum pounced at the shadow, and hit only air, almost slamming into a display case. She stopped herself short, backing up a step and looking around.

“Your tricks probably work really well against ponies,” Mare Do Well said. “Most ponies have never had to fight for anything. You never had to really fight either, so you need every advantage you can get.”

“I’ve been learning,” Philtrum said, tapping her cowl. The glowing eyes changed color as the vision mode changed, making the fog transparent. She looked around, trying to find Mare Do Well. “I studied all of your moves. The comics, the books, even the photos from Ponyville! I know that wasn’t you, but I wanted to capture that dynamic, the way the original Mare Do Well instantly became a hero!”

“It’s not instant,” Mare Do Well said. “It’s hard work.”

Philtrum spotted her, and raised up her armored hoof. “I know. But I think I’m getting better at it.” She launched a net at the crouching figure hiding next to a shelf of Mare Do Well action figures.

Mare Do Well ducked out of the way, the net only catching the edge of her cape before the strands stuck to the ground like spiderweb.

“Got you,” Philtrum said, stepping over. Mare Do Well grabbed at her cape, tugging it and trying to tear the fabric or pull it free. “Don’t worry. I’m just going to knock you out. I’ll put you in a pod, and eventually, you’ll see things my way!”

“You’re not putting me in a jar like the rest of your toys,” Mare Do Well said, undoing her clasp with one swift motion and jumping onto Philtrum’s back. “The real thing doesn’t stay mint in box!”

Philtrum tried to buck Mare Do Well free. Her cape suddenly shifted, a shock going through it as it snapped into rigid shape as a pair of bat wings. Mare Do Well jumped away just in time.

“I can see everything you’re thinking,” Mare Do Well said. “You’re not even trying to hide your emotions.”

“Why would I want to hide? This is the most fun I’ve ever had!” Philtrum charged, her head low like an angry bull, but Mare Do Well just rolled to the side.

“You need to calm down,” Mare Do Well warned. “You’re burning up.”

“No, this is amazing!” Philtrum gasped. “I feel like I can do anything!” She stumbled and coughed, almost falling over. Mare Do Well ran over, moving to catch her. Philtrum twisted, turning the fall into a headbutt that sent Mare Do Well reeling.

The armored fake stepped over the original, breathing heavily.

“Just calm down!” Mare Do Well rasped. “You’re about to--”

“I’m about to win!” Philtrum shouted, rearing up. There was a flash of black light from behind her, and the lights on Philtrum’s armor flickered and went out. She slowly fell over onto her side, landing heavily with no attempt to catch herself.

“I’m sorry! I had to do something!” Whisper West said from where she was standing in front of a shattered display case, trying to hold onto the Null Ray.

“It’s okay,” Loopy sighed, getting up and rubbing her head, grabbing her fallen hat and putting it back on. She knelt down next to Philtrum, who didn’t look like she was going to get up.

“Is she okay?” Whisper asked.

“She’s in bad shape,” Loopy said, feeling around Philtrum’s neck until she found the release, popping it and easing the intimidating helmet off of the changeling’s head. Under it, her shell was pale pink, almost the same shade as Princess Cadance. She twitched and moaned, spitting up green goo.

“Oh gosh, is this my fault?” Whisper asked, dropping the Null Ray.

“No. You just knocked her off her hooves. This is because she’s too full of love,” Loopy sighed. “Changelings don’t feel full. Ever. If you don’t know your limits… ever had a pet goldfish and overfeed it? Same thing, but a lot more tragic.”

“So what do we do?”

“I’ll have to drain some of it out,” Loopy said. She took off her mask, revealing smooth black chitin.

Whisper stumbled back in surprise. “You- you’re--”

“It’s complicated,” Loopy said, her voice raspy. She leaned closer to Philtrum and opened her mouth, breathing in deeply. A thin stream of energy connected them, pulsing as Loopy dragged the love out of the reformed changeling bit by bit. After a long, tense few seconds, she broke the connection and shook her head like she was fighting off a hangover.

“What’s wrong?” Bon-Bon asked.

“That’s all I can handle,” Loopy said weakly. “Much more and I’ll end up sick, too. It should be enough to stabilize her.”

“Let’s get out of here,” Bon-Bon said. “Lyra, make sure the way to the street is clear and flag down one of the local PD!”

“On it!” Lyra saluted and ran up the old station’s steps.

“Now we just have to figure out how to get the rest of these ponies out of here,” Bon-Bon said, looking around at the cocoons on the walls.

“Lift with your knees?” Loopy suggested.

Loopy stared out of the window at the rain. It was lighter than usual, just a drizzle that most ponies were ignoring instead of bothering with umbrellas or raincoats. That practically made it a beautiful day, even if she felt awful. The bruises were one thing, but not the only thing.

Bon-Bon sighed and slid into the booth across from Loopy while Lyra waited in line for whatever the newest and greatest novelty drink was. She put a heavy box on the table between them and sat back, looking exhausted.

“It took all day, but everything should be cleared up,” Bon-Bon sighed. “I’ve made my report, the culprit is on the way out of the city, and you are no longer a wanted mare. That last part required a lot of paperwork, so you should be thankful. There’s a lot of questions about, you know. The look.”

“You mean because I’m an unreformed changeling,” Loopy said, smiling a little and looking away.

“You’re going to have to explain that at some point. Especially to Miss West. She’s still a little freaked out.”

“She should be. I’m a monster.”

“You’re not a monster.”

“Neither was Philtrum. She was trying to be a hero,” Loopy said. “I feel sorry for her. Changelings, especially the young ones like her? They barely remember what it was like before they were reformed. They don’t know how to pace themselves. It’s like taking ponies that survived a famine and putting them in front of an all-you-can-eat buffet. They gorge themselves sick. In heart and body.”

“She’ll get the help she needs,” Bon-Bon promised. “I already spoke to my superiors about it. Philtrum is going to have to stay away from ponies for a while, and she’ll be getting therapy to learn when her emotions are getting out of control.”

“Yeah. Too bad she didn’t learn before she made mistakes.”

“That reminds me, she wanted you to have this.” Bon-Bon nudged the box next to her.

Loopy opened the lid, looking inside. Philtrum’s armored, intimidating costume was folded carefully inside, along with a note. She reached in and took the paper, carefully avoiding the sharp edges.

“I think she wanted to make sure it went to somepony who could use it,” Bon-Bon said. “What’s the note say?”

“It just says… ‘From your biggest fan,’” Loopy said.

“What are you going to do next?” Bon-Bon asked. “Have you thought about that job offer?”

“To work for SMILE?” Loopy closed the box. “I do need a new job. What’s the pay like?”

“It’s government work.”

“So it’s terrible.”

Bon-Bon nodded. “And the hours are awful.”

“Still better than working in a coffee shop. Let’s talk about benefits...”

Technomage, Part 1

Seasaddle’s docks were a tangle of steel and ships. Massive overhead cranes shifted steel containers the size of small houses from one cargo ship to the next. Like all great advances in technology, no one could agree on a standard, and from where she was perched on top of one of the cranes, Loopy could see a half-dozen different types of container, each of them requiring its own specialized hook and rigging to move safely.

“I can’t see anything,” she complained. The radio in the armored cowl crackled to life.

“Try switching the image mode,” Lyra suggested.

Loopy hesitated. “How do I do that?”

“There should be a touch panel. Try tapping it, uh…” Loopy heard papers shifting around on the open radio line. “On your right temple?”

“Like this?” Loopy asked. She touched the helmet, and everything brightened up. “Oh, hey, that worked!”

“Great,” Bon-Bon said. “Can you make out the police from up there?”

“Yeah. They’re closing in.” The Seasaddle PD were well-trained. They’d silently formed a perimeter and cut off almost every avenue of escape. No sirens, no bullhorns announcing their arrival. They moved more like a military unit than a civilian force. "We've got maybe two minutes."

As for the unlucky ponies they were closing in on, there were only four of them. They’d pried open one of the shipping containers and were tossing things aside, obviously looking for something in particular.

“This should be an easy job,” Bon-Bon said. “Just drop in there before the police spring their trap. With that suit, it should be foal’s play.”

“Why is SMILE so interested in a robbery?” Loopy asked.

“The way the SPD is handling this is strange,” Bon-Bon said. “My superior thinks it needs to be looked into. They’re attacking with overwhelming force, and a lot of the paperwork that they should have filed has been classified for public safety reasons, whatever that’s supposed to mean.”

“Let’s find out,” Loopy said. She activated the suit’s wings. Fog sputtered out of the generator on her back. She frowned and tried again. The hoofblades on her rear hooves popped into place, scraping on the steel truss she was clinging to.

The third time was the charm, the cape going rigid and turning into a flying wing like a hang glider. Loopy kicked off, letting the storm winds catch her as she flew towards the robbers.

“I am never going to figure out this suit,” Loopy said.

“Sorry,” Lyra said. “I’m doing what I can with the notes I have. I’ve never been magical tech support before!”

Loopy grunted and twisted in the air, going into a dive. She was going to have to hurry to beat the police to the punch. The criminals didn’t see her coming. Instead of aiming for any of them, she went for the case they were carrying, slamming into it and letting the impact take it out of their hooves. The two ponies carrying it cried out in alarm, one of them going down and staying down, writhing on the ground.

“You should have been lifting with your legs, not your back,” Mare Do Well rasped. Or at least Loopy tried to rasp. The cowl’s voice changer was on the wrong setting, and she sounded like a filly who’d taken a deep breath of helium.

“Idiot! You almost killed all of us!” shouted a pony from the shadows, one of the two who had been watching instead of working. Orange lines of light like a spider web or city streets appeared around their head, a lion’s mane of strange magic.

“If you surrender, I promise none of you will get hurt,” Mare Do Well said.

“You’re the one who’s going to get hurt,” the glowing pony said. She stepped out of the shadows. She was wearing all white, tight latex and plastic in an outfit somewhere between a lab coat and a ballerina’s bodysuit. A collar around her neck and bracers around all four hooves glowed with runes and more of the odd orange lines, the collar projecting them into the air.

“Try this on for size,” Mare Do Well said, raising a hoof and launching a net at her. It actually worked on the first try, which surprised her more than her opponent.

The orange lines around the pony’s neck lengthened, twisting through the air and taking sharp corners, grabbing the net in mid-air and holding it tight. After a moment, another line joined them like a rapier stabbing through the tangle, hitting the floating net and burning it away.

“What?” Loopy had never seen magic like that, and she’d seen a lot of strange magic. The pony in white looked like an earth pony -- it had to be some kind of trick, like the armor she was wearing.

“You two, take care of the sample!” the strange pony shouted. “I’ll handle this annoying distraction. And don’t break anything! I need it intact!”

“I’m not letting you take that anywhere,” Loopy said, finally getting the voice changer under control. “If you really care about not breaking it, surrender.”

“You know, I don’t think I’ll be doing that,” the mare said. She tapped her front hooves together, and lines of orange light snapped along the ground, twisting along invisible corners towards Mare Do Well before lunging off the concrete and striking like a viper. Loopy jumped off the container, barely avoiding the strange spell and with absolutely no desire to find out what it would have done to her.

She landed hard, stumbling. When she tried to catch herself, something in the suit pushed back. It was like a pony trying to help her steady herself and getting it exactly wrong, overcorrecting and tossing her forward without even a moment to prepare herself.

The pony in white raised a forehoof and lines formed in the air around it before twisting together in a buzzing, rushing mass, like a glowing orange chainsaw.

Mare Do Well raised a hoof in reflexive alarm, trying to block the attack. The biting chainblade came down on her armored forehoof, digging into the hoofblades, chipping away at them and starting to slice into the armor itself after only seconds.

“You don’t have any idea what you’re doing,” the mare said. “You’re a foal playing with toys she doesn’t understand!”

“More like I’m too old for this,” Mare Do Well growled. “Let me guess, you’re going to make a speech about how you’re an unappreciated genius and you’re going to make them all pay?”

“I suppose it isn’t original,” the mare said. “But it’s honest. Sometimes the best results come from refining an idea, not reinventing the wheel!” She leaned into her attack, and the blade on Loopy’s gauntlet finally shattered. She twisted away before it could cut deeper, ducking back and forcing herself to stay in control and not let the armor push her around.

“So what do you call yourself? Cut master? Slicer?”

“Just call me Spellchecker,” she said.

Before they could banter more, spotlights snapped on.

“This is the Seasaddle Police Department! Drop your weapons and get down on the ground!” echoed a voice across the docks.

“I thought I’d have more time…” Spellchecker and Mare Do Well said, at the same time. They looked at each other.

“I guess I don’t have more time to play around with you. Sorry, boys, can’t take it all with me.” She stomped her rear hooves and a circle formed around her, thick lines filling in quickly before small, intricate details started weaving between them.

“What are you--” was all Mare Do Well had time to say before the air distorted and Spellchecker vanished in a flash of light and a boom of inrushing air. “Oh. Teleporting. Great.”

“I said drop your weapons!” the police shouted, as they rushed in. Loopy sighed as they surrounded her and the thugs.

“I’m technically with SMILE,” she said. “You can check with your superiors.”

“We know who you are.” A mare in a trenchcoat stormed up to her. “You’re the mare who just bungled a major operation and let the perp get away!”

“I’d love to refute that. At least they didn’t get what they were after?” Loopy motioned to the box.

“If they’d gotten that, we wouldn’t be having this nice conversation,” the mare said.

“What’s in the box, anyway?” Loopy asked, watching two ponies in sealed plastic suits, the kind one might wear to, say, a toxic landfill, run up to the steel box and check it for damage. They whispered to each other, and she could just make out the company logo on their gear. A star inside two rings. She tried to activate the hearing enhancements in the cowl, and the spotlight on her chest popped on, right in the police mare’s face.

“Gah!” She yelled, rubbing her eyes.

“Sorry, uh, new suit. I’m still figuring it out,” Loopy said.

“Figure it out somewhere else!” the mare snapped. “Get off my crime scene!”

“That was a disaster!” Loopy snapped, trying to dramatically tear off the costume’s cowl and failing.

“Hold on,” Lyra said, running over to help. She poked at the underside of the chin. “You’re putting too much pressure on the-- there we go.”

The mask came off, and Loopy shook her head, taking a deep breath of what should have been fresh air but was in an old subway station, so wasn’t actually all that fresh despite the scented candles Lyra had bought for the lair. Philtrum's old lair had proven to be a great rent-free place to operate out of. The mare had chosen it well.

“I would have been better off going after them naked,” Loopy said. She held up the damaged shoe. “Can you help me with this?”

“Oof,” Lyra hissed. “That’s nasty. What happened?”

“Some mare calling herself Spellchecker. Unlike this pile of junk, her tech worked perfectly.”

“It’s not a pile of junk. Philtrum was able to use it perfectly well,” Bon-Bon said.

“She obviously knew something I don’t,” Loopy grumbled. “Can you get a message to her to find out where it came from? Whoever made it has to know how to make it work properly.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Bon-Bon said. “The therapists are still working with her. Last I heard they’re keeping her away from Mare Do Well. She was a little obsessed.”

Loopy looked around at the museum they were standing in.

“Yeah, a little,” she agreed.

“We might be able to figure it out on our own,” Lyra said. “Anyway, that mare you fought, what was her tech like? I wanna know what can slice through armor like that.”

Loopy stepped out of the undamaged boots, pulling the shapeshifting mantle and cape off and setting it aside.

“It wasn’t anything like this,” she said. “These are just fancy gadgets. What she had were more like… she was casting spells, almost. There was a big light show, then it was just like a unicorn. Telekinesis, teleporting, magical blasts.” Loopy nudged the damaged boot. “And a magical blade.”

“I’ve never heard of anything like that,” Bon-Bon said. “Maybe they were some kind of unusual enchantment instead of tech…”

“Sounds like technomagic,” Lyra noted. She prodded the broken blade and the sliced armor, holding it up to eye-level to get a better look.

“Like what?” Loopy asked.

“What, you don’t follow the journals?” Lyra asked. She put the boot down, then walked over to a pile of papers and magazines and shuffled through it, eventually pulling out a glossy magazine and floating it over to Bon-Bon and Loopy. “Did it look anything like this?”

A full-page photo showed a pony wearing a bulky, thick bracelet. Dim orange lines of light orbited around it, and a few of them traced around an egg, levitating it gently in front of the attractive stallion showing off the tech.

“It’s something that’s been showing up at all the major tech shows,” Lyra said. “It’s supposed to allow any pony to cast spells, but it’s one of those things that’s always five, ten years in the future. They pull out the same tech demos and keep making promises.”

“That looks like what I saw,” Loopy agreed. “But it wasn’t a demo. She almost killed me with it.”

“It says here that it’s being developed by Supernova Solutions,” Bon-Bon said. “We could go over there and ask around. Maybe they’ll at least have a lead.”

“Good idea,” Loopy nodded. “But if they’re involved, they might try and hide it. We need a pretext so we can get on their good side.”

“How about this?” Lyra asked, holding up the damaged boot.

“Thank you again for agreeing to this on such short notice, Miss Piton” Bon-Bon said. The meeting room was so plush and pleasant that it almost made Loopy forget that she was wearing a suit that was so poorly-tailored she’d had to resort to shifting her disguise around just to fit in it properly. It made her itchy.

The smiling unicorn sitting across from them was perfectly well-groomed, wearing a navy blue suit that not only put SMILE’s government-issued uniforms to shame but probably cost as much as the organization’s annual budget. She had the aura of a mare who had grown up bullied as a second-rate nerd and spent an inordinate amount of bits trying to seem interesting and attractive now. Her mane was dull brown, except for the dyed streaks of color, and her coat was an uninteresting shade of dusty grey that she hid under the expensive suit. The mare’s designer glasses couldn’t quite hide how thick the lenses were, and her carefully chosen jewelry had been so carefully chosen to give the viewer something to remember since her features were almost entirely unremarkable.

Loopy was impressed. If the mare had been a changeling, it would have been a flawless disguise for infiltration.

“Oh, it’s an absolute pleasure,” the mare said. “You know, I just got back this morning from a trip to Prance. Have you ever been? Wonderful place, absolutely amazing history and culture. The ponies there are so quaint!”

Loopy smiled and nodded along. Anypony that used the word quaint with that tone thought they were being sophisticated instead of insulting and didn’t like being told otherwise.

“We were hoping to talk to you about some technology,” Bon-Bon said. “I’m not at liberty to say where we acquired it, but we need somepony to evaluate it for us.”

“Now you’ve got my attention,” Miss Piton said. “I do love getting a sneak peek at what other ponies are working on.” She leaned forward, flashing a smile that cost more than some ponies’ entire college education.

Lyra unwrapped the bundle she was carrying, putting the damaged gauntlet on the table between them. Miss Piton picked it up with her magic, flipping it around and nodding appreciatively.

“It’s too bad about the damage. It’s mostly superficial, but this is really interesting work. Did you have the material analyzed? I’d bet this is some kind of ceramic metal. Maybe aluminum carbide of some kind. Really tough stuff, but lightweight.”

“Any idea who might have made it?” Bon-Bon asked.

“Well, the integrated tech is definitely a one-off,” Piton said. “Looks like bespoke parts, hoof-adjusted. Had to be a real craftsman. My guess is a small shop somewhere, maybe a hobbyist. If you want to leave it here, I might be able to run it past my techs.”

“Unfortunately it’s part of an ongoing investigation,” Bon-Bon said.

“That’s too bad,” Piton sighed. “Not really in our wheelhouse, but I do appreciate quality work.”

“I apologize for wasting your time,” Bon-Bon sighed. “We thought it might have something to do with technomagic, and your company leads the field there.”

“Oh, we’re twenty years ahead of our competitors!” Piton agreed. “This is just more of a magical device than technomagic. The way I explain the difference to the press is, a device, everypony’s seen one of those. The magic is just a battery. You could do the work yourself turning a handle, but a device is usually smaller and more convenient as long as you don’t mind recharging it once in a while. Technomagic is a unicorn on demand, casting fully formed spells at the wave of a hoof. A device might wash your dishes, but technomagic will wash your dishes, make you a sandwich, and give you a backrub.” Piton laughed. “Who even needs a stallion at that point, am I right?”

“That sounds impressive,” Lyra said. “Even if it’ll put me out of business.”

Miss Piton laughed. “No need to worry too much. Can I assume you’ll keep this confidential?” she waited for them to nod. “It’s not gonna happen this financial year. The demo units work great, but they use some exotic materials. Too expensive for consumers. Right now my teams are working on finding novel alloys to work around the issues.”

“So they’re not ready for field use?” Loopy asked.

“Unfortunately not,” Miss Piton shrugged. “The bench units are amazing work, and we’ve got some of the best engineers in the world working on the issue, so it’s really only a matter of time. And hey, the government is probably going to be an important customer, so if you have any questions, I’d love to hook you up with the answers.”

“There are always government grants for research,” Bon-Bon said. “We’ll make sure a kind word goes up the ladder.”

Miss Piton smiled and stood up, reaching over to shake Bon-Bon’s hoof. “That’d be lovely. Depending on who asks, we might be able to set up a personal demo for some VIPs, fly in some champagne and caviar, get the works going and make a night of it, you know?”

Bon-Bon nodded. “Thank you again for this meeting.”

“It’s no problem. I just wish I had more time. I’ve got to run, got a meeting with the rest of the board, but if you need anything else while you’re in town, you find my PA and it’ll be taken care of. She’s amazing!”

The three were escorted to the elevator, more hooves were shaken, and they parted ways with Miss Piton.

As Loopy, Bon-Bon, and Lyra rode the elevator down, muzak playing softly, they looked at each other.

“She’s hiding something,” Loopy said.

“No duh,” Lyra snorted. “She was awfully fast to tell us her most important tech wasn’t working.”

Loopy nodded. “Next time we visit, I’ll wear my other suit.”

Technomage, Part 2

The vent was a tight fit because somepony had decided that you didn’t really need room to stand inside your HVAC system. It was sort of rude, the way they didn’t consider the needs of ponies who might need to crawl through them to infiltrate high-security areas. Even for Loopy it was a tight fit, and there was the constant risk of hitting a dead-end or tight corner and getting stuck in the maze of metal.

It was still a lot more comfortable than wearing the malfunctioning armored suit. That had been left back on base where Lyra could repair it and Loopy didn’t have to worry about activating some kind of secret self destruct when she was trying to rescue a cat from a tree.

Not that Seasaddle had trees. Even if they hadn’t been removed to make more room for neon lights and street signs, they’d drown in the constant rain.

“Remember, if you get caught, just show your badge,” Bon-Bon said over the radio. “You’re working for the government. We’d rather avoid turning this into a fight.”

“Next you’ll want to get a warrant and go in the front door,” Loopy whispered. “Maybe we could send them a strongly-worded letter about how they should provide evidence of any crimes they’ve committed.”

“Don’t get sarcastic.”

Loopy snorted and stopped. She could feel a guard. They had a distinct emotional flavor to them, a combination of boredom and alertness that came with endless training about the dangers lurking around every corner when it met the harsh reality that the major dangers of patrolling an office building involved paper cuts and the occasional stale donut.

She found a vent and watched a pony in a tactical vest slowly walk past below her, the emotions going with him.

“Any cameras here?” she whispered.

“I don’t think so,” Lyra said. “It should be safe to drop down.”

Loopy nodded to herself and waited. The guard was already out of sight but she stayed in the vent until she couldn’t sense him at all, then carefully pulled the vent cover free and dropped down.

She held on to the grating, putting it to the side where it would be out of sight, then examined her immediate surroundings. Her suit didn’t have night vision or a shape-shifting cape or hoofblades, and it felt better because of it. She didn’t need to fight against a machine all night.

The lab was a wide space, with worktables along two walls and heavier machining equipment on a third, islands in the center holding half-disassembled things Loopy couldn’t identify at a glance. It looked almost like a morgue, with the parts carefully removed and set aside with labels, like the dead machines were being cut apart to determine the cause of death.

“See anything familiar?” Bon-Bon asked.

“Not yet,” Loopy said. She spotted a clipboard covered in notes and picked it up, flipping through it and trying to get a sense of what was going on. “It looks like they’ve been under a lot of pressure. This is mostly just threats about them losing their jobs if they don’t get results. I’m glad I don’t work here.”

“Maybe Miss Piton wasn’t lying about their tech not working,” Lyra said. “That’s disappointing.”

Loopy looked from the notes to the disassembled machines on the tables. “It seems like they’re trying to reverse-engineer their own demo units.” She stepped over to one and turned it over. If she looked at it just the right way, she could see how it would slip over a hoof. “I think this was in the photo you showed me.”

“Why would they need to reverse engineer anything?” Lyra asked. “They built them in the first place!”

“Somepony built them,” Loopy said. “But not this research team. There are references to an accident about a year ago. Lots of that corporate-speak about how they’ll recover and put together an even stronger team after the… unfortunate resignation of their head researcher, Doctor Ivory.”

“Want to put bets on the accident never being public knowledge?” Lyra asked.

“Miss Piton probably decided it would be bad for their stock price,” Loopy said. “But she’d say something about how important it was to look to the future and move past the tragedy, I’m sure.”

“Doctor Ivory must have taken all her notes with her,” Lyra said. “I’ve seen that kind of thing before back in school -- don’t annoy the only pony doing work in your group project or they’ll just take their ball and go home.”

Loopy put down the clipboard, grabbing papers from a desk.

“There has to be something useful here,” Loopy muttered. “Spellchecker wasn’t using broken-down junk like this.”

“She must be working with Doctor Ivory,” Bon-Bon said. “I’ll see if I can track her down. If she gave her those weapons, it’s a crime.”

“Hey, this is from today,” Loopy said. “It’s about that robbery last night.”

“The robbery? So they do have some kind of connection to Spellchecker!”

“She knew exactly what she was looking for. She opened one container, and took one box out of it,” Loopy said. “Apparently that box was being shipped here. I should have known. The ponies on the dock had the company logo on their uniforms.”

“What was in it?” Bon-Bon asked.

“I don’t know. This is just about changes to the delivery time because of the police involvement. Apparently, they paid a premium to get it out of the evidence locker with no questions asked.”

“That’s called a bribe,” Bon-Bon grumbled.

Loopy shrugged. “Whatever it is, it was worth a lot of trouble. Miss Piton might have just flown in from Prance, but it wasn’t for a meeting. She flew in for that box. They mention just how displeased she was that it wasn’t here on her arrival waiting for her.”

“No wonder she was so pleasant,” Lyra said. “I bet she expected us to ask about her shipment. When we started asking about technomagic and some odd devices, it must have been a relief.”

“Let’s find it,” Bon-Bon said. “Maybe we’ll get a few answers.”

“That could be a problem,” Loopy said. “It’s not in the building. With the delay, they had the courier take it right to the final destination.”

Loopy could hear the frustration in Bon-Bon’s voice. “And where was that? It had better not be on its way to Prance.”

“I can answer that,” Lyra said. There was the sound of dramatic unfurling of paper.

Loopy paused, waiting. No explanation came.

“You have to read it to me,” Loopy said. “I can’t see what you’re holding.”

“Oh! Right. Supernova Solutions is holding a big investor banquet tonight on the corporate yacht. Rumors are they’re going to unveil a whole new product line.”

“And that’s in the papers? The news is public?” Loopy asked.

“Yeah. Why?”

“Because if I wanted a second chance at stealing whatever Spellchecker wanted, I couldn’t imagine a better opportunity. I need to get on that boat.”

“I’ll see if I can hire something on short notice,” Bon-Bon said. “There has to be a speedboat or jet-ski or something…”

“That would alert Spellchecker if she’s there,” Loopy said. She tossed the papers she was holding onto the floor. She buzzed up to the vents, trying to suppress the noise from her wings as best she could. “Not a good idea to fly, either. She could see me coming from above.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“One,” Loopy said, slipping back into the vent.

The thing about being a changeling was, Loopy could imitate whatever she turned into almost perfectly. Some changelings had the skill to turn into inanimate objects or shift into massive monsters, but she’d never really been that good. Even just trying burned through her stored love so quickly it wouldn’t last more than a few seconds before she’d have to turn back to normal.

What she could do, really well, was pretend to be almost any kind of pony. It only took a trickle of energy to stand on a cloud. Earth pony strength was draining, but maintaining it for a few heartbeats was simple. Unicorn magic was the most difficult, but most unicorns couldn’t do much more than simple telekinesis anyway.

Tonight she had to try something new. She’d never been a hippogriff before.

The bay waters splashed around her as her new fins pushed at the water. It should have been icy-cold this time of year, but Loopy couldn’t feel the chill at all. She dove down deeper, under the waves, and everything smoothed out. It wasn’t exactly like flying, but it felt almost as freeing. It was quiet and peaceful. If breathing water didn’t feel so strange it would have been perfect.

Loopy dove deeper, then turned to the surface and swam hard, leaping out of the water for a few seconds. The yacht was huge, less like the little pleasure boat she’d imagined and more like a mansion on the waves, lit up like a casino against the dark sky. As she got closer she could hear the music and the rumble of the engine through the water as it slowly circled around the bay.

Despite the deep rumble of the powerful motors, Loopy had no problem catching up. Nothing that size was built for speed. She surfaced in its shadow, too close to the hull for anypony to spot her unless they were looking straight down off the port side.

Loopy spotted a ladder built into the side of the yacht and grabbed on, shifting back into her natural shape and adjusting the waterproof bag on her back, making sure it didn’t slide off with the change of shape. She peeked over the side, and found herself sharing the deck with diving suits and air tanks but no ponies, all the sounds of the party a level above her.

“Perfect,” Loopy whispered. She climbed the rest of the way up and opened her bag, pulling on her suit and tapping the radio earpiece a few times. “Can you hear me?”

“Yeah!” Lyra said. “Hey, Bonnie! She’s back on air!”

There was a rustle of somepony grabbing for their own equipment. “Are you onboard?” Bon-Bon asked.

“I’m Mare Do Well,” Loopy said, like it was an answer.

“I’ll just take that as a yes. Any sign of Spellchecker?”

“I’m hearing ponies laughing and talking, and no screaming, so she must not have shown up yet,” she said. “I’m going to get to the upper decks and see what’s going on. Maybe we’ll be lucky and it’ll be a quiet night.”

“Have you ever been that lucky?”

“No, but the odds say it has to happen at some point,” Loopy muttered. She quietly padded upstairs. Thankfully, somepony had the bright idea to leave the lights off in some of the corridors to keep the guests politely herded in one spot, so shadows weren’t hard to find. Loopy looked around the edge of a brightly-lit door and into the floating ballroom beyond.

A live band was on stage, playing a fusion of classical and pop music on instruments made out of glowing plastic and metal that were obviously very advanced and expensive and sounded almost as good as the real thing. The vocalist was doing her best, but she seemed to have been picked more for her looks than her talent. Buffet tables had countless tiny portions of exotic foods. Most importantly, there was enough alcohol at the open bar to keep the fifty or so ponies happy while they socialized.

“I need to start getting myself invited to these events properly,” Loopy muttered.

“If we had more notice I might have been able to pull some strings,” Bon-Bon said. “Maybe next time you can go to the party instead of just crashing it.”

“I’ll keep my hopes up. Looks like we got here just in time.”

Miss Piton stepped out on stage as the musicians finished their latest number, dancing in the restrained but obviously practiced way that a very self-conscious pony might attempt in order to look cool and hip without actually risking looking silly. She moonwalked up to the vocalist and took the microphone, giving her a quick, polite hug. Just the kind of quaint thing they might use in Prance, probably.

“And that was Jasmine Jewel, everypony!” Miss Piton said. “She’s just the best, a real Seasaddle legend, and I’m super happy to have her here today!”

She applauded while Jasmine took a bow and left the stage, the band quickly packing up and evacuating as well. The crowd joined in on the applause politely.

“Now I’m sure you’re all wondering why I had this little soiree planned,” Miss Piton said with a smile. “Believe it or not, treating you all to the best food and entertainment in Seasaddle wasn’t the main plan for tonight, just a happy coincidence. As you might have heard, we’ve got something very exciting for you tonight.”

Piton stepped aside and two workers wheeled out the metal box Loopy had seen on the docks. The scuffs and scrapes it had gotten hadn’t even been cleaned up yet.

“We’ve had an amazing breakthrough, thanks to a collaboration with some lovely and intelligent mares from Prance's Centre for Equine Research and Networking,” Miss Piton said. “Now I’ll admit, I’m not a scientist, I just get really excited about this stuff, but they tell us this is going to revolutionize our research.”

She opened the box and carefully revealed an ingot of a variegated material, like ceramic that gleamed with the multicolored shades of an oil slick.

“This is a magical superconductor,” Miss Piton said. “I’ve been asked not to pick it up with telekinesis, so I’m just going to leave it where it is, but it’s a beauty! You remember last year how I said technomagic would come to market in maybe five years? Make that two. We might even have some preview units ready for review by the holidays if my guys at the lab are right.”

The crowd applauded, and Piton smiled. The smile faded along with the applause as only one slow clap remained, and a pony in gleaming white pushed her way through the crowd. Two burly ponies in suits stepped in front of her, and a lion’s mane of orange light appeared around Spellchecker’s neck before forming into solid lines and throwing them to the side, right off the deck of the ship and into the water below.

“What’s this all about?” Miss Piton asked. The lines swept forward, binding her in place as Spellchecker walked up onto the stage.

“Guess,” the villain hissed.

Spellchecker took off her mask, revealing her face. Scars crisscrossed her forehead and snout, like she’d run face-first into plate glass. That was only a detail, though, compared to the tiny, broken stump that was all that remained of what had been a unicorn horn.

“Doctor Ivory?” Miss Piton whispered, shocked.

“That’s right,” Spellchecker hissed. “You didn’t think I’d come back? You had me fired because your lab accident left me crippled and it was too inconvenient to have a head researcher who couldn’t even use magic anymore! You struck my name from the papers, took me off the patents!”

“It was in your contract,” Piton tried to explain. The lines of glowing orange around her tightened, and she gasped. “Look, we can make a deal! I don’t like what happened either, but we can do business! How about we get you back pay for that whole year - double back pay, even!”

“It’s not just about the money,” Spellchecker growled. “You stole my work and gave it to other ponies!”

“And they can’t figure it out! You’re a genius. I’m saying it right now, it’s impossible to replace you. We made a mistake. How would you like your old job back, with a big raise? It’s pretty obvious you’ve made plenty of advancements on your own, Doctor Ivory--”

“I have,” Spellchecker interrupted. She put her mask back on. “And now the press is going to know all about you, and about what you made us use to get your demo units working! And unlike them, I’m going to make sure you pay for it all!”

“That’s enough,” Mare Do Well said. Loopy stepped out of the shadows. She hated working in front of a crowd, but there weren’t a lot of options. She’d privately been hoping Spellchecker would just nab the box and run so she wouldn’t have to fight her where other ponies could get involved. “Put the mare down.”

“She’s more guilty than I am,” Spellchecker said. “You have no idea what kind of mare she is!”

“I’ve got a pretty good idea, but I’m still asking you to put her down.” Mare Do Well held out a hoof. “You don’t need to hurt anypony for the truth to come out.”

“The only way she’ll be punished is if I do it myself. You know it! If this wasn’t needed, you wouldn’t wear a mask either!” Spellchecker tapped her hoof against the ground, and lines started forming around her forehoof. Loopy rushed at her and grabbed her fetlock before the chainsaw blade could fully form, holding it away from Miss Piton and trying to wrest it toward the deck.

“Don’t!” Loopy yelled. The blade sliced into the stage and severed something important, a support beam snapping and tilting the stage to one side. Spellchecker’s telekinetic threads around Miss Piton flickered out, and the mare gasped as she fell back, trying to catch her breath.

Spellchecker clicked her back hooves and fought Mare Do Well for control of her chainsaw blade for a few seconds before the teleportation ring completed and she vanished from sight, reappearing next to the buffet table. She looked around, orienting herself, then dismissed the blade and activated her collar again, a spell forming.

Mare Do Well grabbed a serving tray from a waiter with her own magic, tossing it in front of Spellchecker before the mare’s spell could finish forming. A blast of energy slammed into it, sending it flying.

“Stop it!” Spellchecker snapped.

“You aren’t going to win,” Mare Do Well said. “I figured out your weakness.”

“I don’t have a weakness!” Spellchecker said. She clicked her back hooves together, turning slightly. The teleportation circle closed, and she vanished -- and immediately took a hoof to the face.

“You’re predictable,” Mare Do Well said.

“No, I’m not!” Spellchecker growled, rubbing her snout and clicking her heels again. Mare Do Well jumped even before she vanished. Spellchecker blinked in surprise, and when she reappeared out of the teleport flash, Mare Do Well slammed into her from above, wrestling her to the ground.

“You’re not really casting the spells, so they’re the same every time! It’s like a recording!” Mare Do Well grabbed her forehoof and got Spellchecker in a hooflock.

“Just let me have this one thing!” Spellchecker yelled. “I deserve this!”

“I’m sorry,” Mare Do Well said.

Spellchecker’s collar started to glow as a spell began forming. Mare Do Well braced herself and twisted, kicking Spellchecker’s jaw hard enough to make her head snap back and slam into the deck, knocking her out and probably giving her a concussion.

Mare Do Well stood up, sore in more places than she wanted to admit.

“That was amazing!” Miss Piton said, stepping forward. “You’re a real hero. Let’s all get a round of applause!”

She offered a hoof to shake and an insincere smile.

Loopy hesitated.

“It’s good press,” Miss Piton offered, whispering.

“Did you have to punch her?” Bon-Bon asked. “Right in front of cameras?”

She tossed the newspaper onto Loopy’s lap. The front page had a good shot of Mare Do Well slugging Miss Piton.

“Sorry. I just couldn’t stand it anymore.” Loopy shrugged and sat back. “It was a visceral reaction. Like seasickness.”

“The only good thing is, most ponies think she deserved it,” Bon-Bon said. “Doctor Ivory wasn’t the only pony she mistreated.”

“Any word on what the police found once they couldn’t ignore it anymore?” Loopy asked.

“Supernova Solutions is being investigated for what Spellchecker revealed during her testimony,” Bon-Bon said. “It turns out the exotic, expensive material that was so much trouble for them to replicate were unicorn horns. They used it as a shortcut to make the demo units work but there was no way they could market that.”

“No kidding,” Lyra groaned, rubbing her horn in sympathy. “The second one reviewer or hobbyist took it apart they’d be in serious legal trouble.”

“So what’s it all mean?” Loopy asked.

“A few morgue workers are going to prison, and the company will probably get some kind of large fine,” Bon-Bon said.

“So Spellchecker was right. Miss Piton really isn’t going to see justice for anything she did,” Loopy sighed.

“There’s more than one kind of justice,” Bon-Bon said. “Supernova Solutions had their stock drop to almost nothing. She probably lost her entire fortune, and the company will get sold off to somepony else. Maybe somepony with morals.”

Loopy shook her head. “And what about Spellchecker?”

“Robbery, assault, battery… She’ll be in prison for a while.”

“She’s really a genius,” Lyra said. “I hope she can turn herself around. She could do amazing things.”

“What about her gear?” Loopy asked.

“It’s safe,” Bon-Bon promised. “I was able to use some laws about medical waste to make sure SMILE got custody instead of the local police. I don’t trust them not to sell them to the highest bidder.”

“Medical waste?”

“She used parts of her own broken horn to make the technomagic work,” Bon-Bon said.

Lyra winced.

Loopy looked at the armored suit. “There’s nothing like that in there, right?”

“I hope not,” Bon-Bon muttered.

A Gem Set In Steel, Part 1

“You know, I’m not usually the pony to say this, but isn’t this a job for the police?” Loopy tossed the paper back onto the folding table they’d set up in the subway lair.

“Okay, technically you’re right,” Lyra admitted. “The police could provide security. But this is a great opportunity!”

“It’s a stalker making vague threats,” Loopy said. “Bon-Bon, tell her this isn’t a good idea.”

“I tried that, but she made a really good point,” Bon-Bon said. “You need to make connections in the city, and Jasmine Jewel is a great place to start.”

“Also she’s my favorite musician,” Lyra said. “And Bon-Bon owes me a favor so I begged her to take the case.”

“At least you admit to it,” Loopy sighed. “I just don’t see what we can do that the police can’t. It’s a stalker. They’ve got the note, right? Can’t they just track him down, put him in protective custody, ask him questions, whatever? I don’t actually know what the right procedure is for this kind of thing.”

“Normally they’d track the pony down and bring them in to let them know it wasn’t acceptable behavior and evaluate the threat,” Bon-Bon said. “But when I looked into things, it turns out the Seasaddle PD already tried.”

Loopy tilted her head. “The way you say tried makes me think it ends in ‘and failed.’”

“The suspect, one Mister Brass Mainspring.” Bon-Bon picked a photo out of the folder. “He’s a known troublemaker. He sends letters to all the local papers with crazy conspiracy theories. And I mean, really crazy. Like he thinks digital clocks were created specifically so the Princess can alter the length of the day secretly whenever she wants without ponies having the objective evidence of purely mechanical mechanisms.”

“Sounds like a real gentleman,” Loopy snorted.

“His apartment was empty except for copies of his manifesto and the police weren’t able to make contact for a wellness check. He’s really more of a victim than anything else. When Discord was released the first time, Brass Mainspring had a mental break from what was done to him.”

“Poor guy,” Lyra sighed. “Discord isn’t that bad, but if you’re obsessive-compulsive already, even a little chaos is too much.”

“So where do we start?” Loopy asked. “If we’re doing this I hope you’ve got a good plan.”

“It’s a plan only you can pull off,” Lyra said, grinning.

“It’s like looking into a mirror,” Jasmine Jewel said, tilting her head.

Loopy mimicked the action, wiggling her ears in the same way the pop idol did.

“It’s amazing!” Lyra gasped.

Jasmine’s manager, Big Slice, was less impressed. He had a sour look on his face like he’d bitten into a lemon that had itself bitten into his profits. “And she’s a professional? I’m not sure this is really going to work.”

“I’ve been doing this for a long time,” Loopy said. “I’ve got more acting experience than she does. No offense, Ma’am.”

“None taken,” Jasmine said.

“I promise I can fool anypony, even if they’re familiar with the real thing. If I have a few hours to get her mannerisms down, it’ll be impossible for anypony to tell.”

“Yeah, yeah, so you say,” Big Slice muttered. “But she’s got a reputation that needs to be upheld. An image! You gotta understand, idols like her, they’re all about the brand, and we spent a lot of money on her. If something happens to damage her brand, we’re out all that money and ponies will move on to the next big thing.”

“It won’t be great for her brand if a stalker kidnaps her,” Bon-Bon reminded him.

“You’d be surprised,” Big Slice said. “Sometimes that kind of tragic thing really pushes the ratings in the press.”

“But the safety of your client comes first, right?” Bon-Bon pressed.

“Well… yeah, of course,” Big Slice mumbled.

“How about we go talk about her schedule while they get to know each other?” Bon-Bon suggested. She put a hoof on Big Slice’s shoulder and started leading him away. “Lyra, come on. Stop fawning over her, she’s already got one stalker.”

“Sorry,” Lyra said, blushing. “Thank you again for the autograph, Jasmine!”

“It’s no problem,” Jasmine said. “Anything for a fan!”

Lyra rushed to catch up as Bon-Bon muscled Big Slice out of the studio. Once the door had closed behind them, Jasmine sighed.

“Sorry about him,” the idol said quietly. “He’s not usually this bad. He’s a good manager, really. He gets me a lot of jobs. Just the other day I had a really great job at a yacht party! It might not sound like much, but it was more exciting than I was expecting.”

“I know, I was there,” Loopy said.

Loopy could taste the confusion. There was an odd tinge to it she couldn’t quite identify. “You were? I don’t remember seeing you.”

“I didn’t look like this,” Loopy reminded her.

“Oh, right.” Jasmine blushed. “I almost forgot. But even if you do look just like me, you have to be perfect. You heard him talk about how important my image is. That’s more than just a pretty face. You have to be able to act like me.”

“I can do that.”

“Can you sing?” Jasmine asked.

Loopy hesitated. “I mean… a little. But it’s not like I’m going to have to sing, am I?”

“Oh boy,” Jasmine sighed. “You really weren’t told much about this, were you?”

“I know I’m replacing you for a night at some charity event,” Loopy said. “Shaking some hooves, flattering rich ponies, trying to get them to donate to… whatever the cause was.”

“It’s to increase funding to local schools and get the foals interested in jobs in technology,” Jasmine said. “It’s a good cause!”

“I’m sure,” Loopy agreed.

“But you also have to sing a small set. Just three or four songs.”

“I like this deal less and less all the time,” Loopy sighed.

“I’m guessing you aren’t really a fan?”

“I haven’t heard a whole lot yet, but I’m willing to learn. Sometimes it’s more about doing the job right.”

Jasmine snorted and looked away, darkly amused. She motioned for Loopy to follow her up onto the portable stage in the studio, taking her hoof to help her up. “You don’t have to tell me twice,” Jasmine said. “I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t like my music, you know.”

“I get the distinct impression you don’t love it,” Loopy said.

Jasmine winked. “Don’t tell anypony. It’s not that bad. I mean, it was designed by the best… is there a word for music scientists? Because there should be. What’s really important is that ponies seem to like it. Even if there are other things I’d rather be doing, my fans are even more important to me than they are to my manager.”

“I understand,” Loopy nodded. “Believe me, I do. I know what it’s like to be somepony else just to make others love you.”

“I thought so,” Jasmine smirked. “You’re a changeling, right? It explains the perfect disguise.”

“Bingo,” Loopy winked.

“I wish I was a changeling. I could go out whenever I wanted, make friends with ponies without fame getting in the way… and I wouldn’t have to worry about my image.” Jasmine sat down, deep angst hovering over her like a cloud of static.

Loopy sat down next to her. “What would you do if you could get out of your contract and do whatever you wanted?”

“I’d go independent. Come up with my own style, maybe fall in love with a nice stallion. There are a lot of things I’d do. It’s just not in the cards for me.”

“If your manager is doing something illegal, I can help,” Loopy said. “I know the stalker and the charity ball and all that are important, but so are you. If he’s abusing you…”

She shook her head. “It’s complicated. Thank you, though. It’s very kind of you, worrying about a pony like me.”

“I worry about anypony that seems as nice as you are.”

Jasmine smiled. “Now you’re just flattering me. Now let’s go over the songs you have to learn. I better not get a reputation for lip-synching because of you!” She giggled.

“I love to hear your voice

You push the tears away

The whole world will have to learn to love

The whole world will have to learn to love…”

Loopy trailed off when the applause started behind her. She looked over her shoulder in the mirror she was practicing in front of. She’d been making sure she could keep the disguise up while singing and getting a little last-minute song practice in at the studio after Jasmine had gone off to rest and recharge.

“That’s amazing! You sound exactly like her!” Lyra ran up and pranced in front of Loopy. “This is so exciting! I’m just such a big fan, and--”

“And I’m not her, remember?” Loopy said. She could taste Lyra’s love in the air, the vague parasocial affection ponies had when they knew way too much about a stranger. “Maybe I should be protecting Jasmine from you instead of that stalker.”

Loopy shifted back to her usual disguise in a wash of lime-green fire.

Lyra pouted in disappointment. “I was just showing my appreciation. You’re really good at imitating ponies.”

“Of course I am,” Loopy said. “I’ve had more experience than most changelings. I wasn’t trained as an infiltrator, but the practical stuff is even more important.”

“You know, that reminds me… why didn’t you ever, you know? Reform? I thought Thorax convinced every changeling in Equestria to do it.”

“Every changeling he could find,” Loopy said. She shrugged dismissively.

“All you have to do is share love, right?” Lyra asked. “I mean, I’m not an expert but you don’t seem like a jerk. Couldn’t you do it anytime you want? Then you wouldn’t be hungry all the time.”

“I probably could,” Loopy admitted. “But... it’s complicated. I don’t feel like I deserve it. I don’t know. Maybe that’s why I sympathize with Jasmine.”

“Huh?”

“I get the impression she doesn’t feel like she can be her own pony. Like she owes too much to others and she’s got to make up for it first. It’s not a great feeling.”

“Are you going to be okay doing this job?” Lyra asked, quietly.

“Yeah,” Loopy said. “It’s one night. What could go wrong?”

“Jasmine, it’s so wonderful of you to come,” the stallion said. He had a firm handshake, not strong or tight, but possessive like he didn’t like letting go of anything. The stallion was at ease, which was no doubt helped by the excellent wine being served. “I don’t think we’ve met in person, but my daughter is a big fan.”

“You must be Mayor Caucus Club,” Loopy said. “I’ve seen your picture in the paper.” The mayor’s distinctive black and white streaked mane made him look ten years older despite only being Loopy’s age.

“Almost as often as yours,” the mayor winked. “I’m not quite as photogenic as you are.” He shot the reporters standing by a smile, and they snapped a few shots of us shaking hands and looking happy.

“I couldn’t say no,” Loopy said. “And I don’t mean just because of my contract.” She smiled. “It’s thanks to all the ponies here that we’re going to be able to help foals in the city’s public schools. I’m just doing my part to make sure they have the same kind of opportunities we did.”

“Hopefully, they’ll do even better,” the stallion agreed. “Half the jobs in the city now are ones that didn’t exist anywhere in Equestria back when I was a colt looking for my first after-school job. Who knows what the foals in classes today will come up with in the next twenty years?”

“I’m just hoping they’ll still need leadership and entertainment,” Loopy said, giggling the way Jasmine would have. The ponies listening in laughed along politely. A few of them even had some genuine amusement and affection. Loopy lapped it up eagerly. It was a nice treat with how much energy she was spending keeping herself in an unfamiliar shape.

She just hated how much she was enjoying stealing the love that should have belonged to another.

“Two things that don’t ever go out of style!” the Mayor agreed. “Think you can write a song about how important it is to vote in the next city election?”

Everypony had a good chuckle at the joke, and Loopy excused herself to get a drink, stepping away from the crowd.

“Any sign of the stalker?” she said, just loudly enough for the microphone in her dress to pick up on it.

“Nothing yet,” Bon-Bon said. “How’s the party? I’ve never been to the Sirius Hotel’s penthouse suite.”

Loopy held up a glass of mineral water, using the reflection to look at the crowd. “Beautiful hotel. At least it really is all for a good cause. Maybe nothing will happen tonight.”

“Let’s hope so,” Bon-Bon said. “Lyra wouldn’t mind if we got to watch over Jasmine Jewel for another week or two.”

Loopy scoffed.

“You say that like you’re hoping to be bored,” purred a voice closer to Loopy than the one over the radio. She looked away from the glass she was holding. A griffon with black, glossy feathers like a raven stepped up. “Could you pour me a glass?”

“You asked so nicely, how could I say no?” Loopy quipped, picking up a bottle. “I hope you don’t mind Harrier.”

“It’s straight from Griffonstone, so it tastes just like home. But… filtered and a little less expensive.” The griffon winked. “You look like you’re enjoying this almost as much as I am.”

“The charity dinner or your company?” Loopy asked.

“These are really all about being seen with the right ponies,” the griffon said. “A big photo op for all the ponies who don’t usually get to have their faces in the paper. At least not for anything good.”

“What about you?” Loopy asked, giving her the glass. “Here to smile for the camera?”

“I’m more interested in meeting interesting ponies,” she said. “I couldn’t help but notice you. There’s just something about the way you watch the room that makes me think you’re a cut above the rest.”

“I don’t know if you’re just trying to flatter me, seduce me, or find a way to get a nibble,” Loopy said. “Jasmine Jewel.” She offered a hoof to shake.

“You say that like I couldn’t manage all three in one night.” Unlike the mayor, the griffon had a light touch, skilled enough with her black talons not to accidentally scratch her. “I’m Gwen.”

“Obviously I’m the entertainment,” Loopy said. “So I’m somewhere between the hired help and a pretty face for the cameras. If I was a little less famous I’d be asked not to mingle with the more important ponies.”

“I feel your pain,” Gwen sighed. “I suppose I’m merely exotic eye candy. They want to make sure they’ve very inclusive and progressive, you know.”

“Maybe they should have invited some yaks. They’d liven things up.”

Gwen laughed. “Maybe when this is over we should get something a little stronger to drink? I’ve got some crystal berry wine at my place that--”

The radio in Loopy’s ear exploded with static, feedback ringing. She winced and clutched her head.

“What’s wrong?” Gwen asked.

Before Loopy could even start to come up with a decent lie to answer her with, the feedback stopped. She shook her head, trying to stop the ringing, and the sound was replaced with shattering glass and splintering wood.

“Everypony down!”

Yellow bolts of light streaked through the air above the gathered crowd, and ponies screamed and ran for imaginary cover or simply dove to the ground like the shout had ordered. As the herd parted, a predator stalked through. The stallion was scarecrow-thin, wearing a dirty tan trenchcoat and carrying a boxy weapon in one hoof.

“What is that?” Gwen asked.

“A boltcaster,” Loopy muttered. “And unless I’m badly mistaken, the pony holding it is Brass Mainspring.”

“You know him?” Gwen paused, raising an eyebrow. “Ex-boyfriend?”

“We’re not that close.”

“There you are!” Brass Mainspring shouted. He pointed at Loopy. “I see you, you so-called pony!” He stalked over with an expression like a pony who’d forgotten to take some very important medication. “You think you can fool us all! You and every one of the monsters just like you!”

Loopy couldn’t help it. She looked down at herself just in case her disguise had slipped somehow. It hadn’t.

“What?” she asked.

“You’re a tool of the secret society taking everything over!” Brass shouted. “You aren’t a pony! You’re a thing!”

“Let’s just all calm down, put down the deadly weapons, and talk,” Loopy offered. “How about we let everypony else go so we can chat one-on-one without anypony interrupting?”

“I like the idea where I get to leave,” Gwen agreed.

“No one is leaving!” Brass shouted. He pulled his coat aside to show a blinking collection of wires and wrapped bricks strapped to his chest. “One wrong move, and I’ll do what I have to do to save the city and stop you permanently!”

A Gem Set In Steel, Part 2

It wasn’t the first time Loopy had been tied up, but it was definitely the most amateurish job anypony had ever done of it. Brass Mainspring had seemed almost afraid to actually touch her, like she was disgusting or dangerous. The latter was true of Loopy, but not of the pony she was disguised as - Jasmine Jewel was a pop star, and the most dangerous thing about her was the appearance fee her manager demanded.

The worst part was, because he was so bad at tying ponies up, Loopy couldn’t even get comfortable.

“We can’t send anypony up while he’s got that bomb,” Bon-Bon’s voice whispered over the radio earpiece. “You need to try talking him down. He was obsessed with Jasmine for some reason, so if there’s anypony that he might listen to in that room, it’s you.”

“Sometimes I wonder why I ever wanted to be famous,” Loopy muttered.

The griffon tied back-to-back with her laughed softly, obviously also trying to avoid the attention of Brass Mainspring as he circled the room, making sure his hostages were secure. The unhinged pony was prone to pointing his boltcaster at anything that caught him off-guard, and since he’d already shot a mirror for looking at him wrong, that wasn’t particularly difficult.

“Your ex-boyfriend is a real piece of work,” Gwen said. “I can’t imagine why you’d ever dump a charming guy like him.”

“I told you, he’s not mine. If you really think he’s that charming, you’re welcome to have him,” Loopy retorted.

“He’s not my type. I prefer someone a little softer, with nicer hips. And a better dresser. The bomb he’s got around his chest just doesn’t go with the tie he’s wearing.”

Loopy snorted. The blinking mess of wires and clockwork looked hideously dangerous, but had so many knobs and buttons that she couldn’t tell where it began or ended. Was it really a bomb, or just spare parts and Hearth’s Warming lights strung together by a mad stallion?

“Stop talking so much!” Brass shouted. “You’ve had all this time to come up with your plans to take over the world from the shadows and I won’t give you one more minute! This is going to go down in history as the moment real ponies started fighting back against the machines!”

“What machines?” Loopy sighed, speaking up. “Mister Mainspring, you’re the only one here with devices that pose any kind of threat to other ponies. You’ve got a weapon and a bomb, you’ve got every advantage. Why don’t you calm down so we can talk?”

Loopy would’ve rather punched him out, but unfortunately, that wasn’t something that would fit Jasmine’s image. Ruining the pop star’s reputation wasn’t in the cards.

“Machines like you!” Brass pointed at her accusingly. “I know exactly what you are! You’re not a real pony! You’re a synthetic copy made out of circuits and steel! I’ve seen the evidence! I’ve seen what’s inside so-called ponies like you!”

“...You think I’m a machine,” Loopy said slowly. “What, like a wind-up ballerina that prances around on stage? Most of them couldn’t get record deals.”

“Stop making fun of me!” Brass screamed. “That’s why I was driven to this, because nopony would listen unless I did something myself to stop it!”

His hoof twitched, and the boltcaster went off, a streak of yellow light going wild. The guests at the penthouse party screamed as one of the half-melted ice sculptures shattered, showering them with frozen shrapnel.

“Maybe if we listen really closely we can hear the clockwork parts that make you sarcastic even when somepony is waving a deadly weapon in your face,” Gwen muttered. “Please don’t get me shot just because you want to be clever.”

“You!” Brass pointed to the photographer, stepping over to the ponies with the press passes. “I saw you doing interviews. You’re going to listen to what I have to say, and you’ll broadcast it live!”

“I’ll have to talk to my boss--”

“He isn’t going to say no,” Brass sneered. “He’ll love having an exclusive with the pony who’s holding the most important ponies in Seasaddle hostage!”

“If he’s still talking that’s good, right?” Gwen whispered.

“I’m not an expert,” Loopy admitted. “Maybe if we’re lucky all he really wants is for ponies to listen to him, no matter how crazy he sounds.”

“And if we’re unlucky?”

“A lot of ponies leave notes right before they do something really stupid,” Loopy said. She wiggled a bit, loosening the ropes around her hooves without making too much noise or moving around much.

“Having some trouble?” Gwen asked.

“I’m pretty sure I can get myself untied,” Loopy whispered. “Once I do, I think I can get you free too.”

“I’ve been loose this whole time,” Gwen said. “I have talons, remember? Snip-snip. I just didn’t want our charming host to know.”

“I don’t suppose you could--”

Gwen glanced back at her with a smile. Loopy felt something sharp work its way under her bonds and slice through, the tension instantly releasing. She wiggled a little completely freeing herself but staying in more or less the same position to keep it from being obvious at a glance.

“Do you have a plan for actually getting out of here?” Gwen asked.

“I was kind of hoping he’d let everypony else go and just focus on me,” Loopy admitted.

“That’s noble of you.”

“You’re live,” the reporter across the room said, handing a microphone to Brass Mainspring. “Everypony in Seasaddle can hear you, sir. Can you tell us what was so important that you decided it was worth taking an entire room full of ponies hostage?”

“I have a speech prepared,” Brass Mainspring said, fishing out a pair of reading glasses and a piece of paper that had obviously been folded and refolded dozens of times.

“Get ready, he’s distracted,” Loopy whispered, hoping Bon-Bon and Lyra were still listening in.

Bon-Bon’s voice came over the line. “We’re getting into position. He barricaded the stairs and the elevators have been shut off. Five minutes.”

“Ready for what?” Gwen asked.

“Ponies of Seasaddle, wake up!” Brass started. “I lived my life watching ponies get replaced by machines. The first ones didn't have a face, just presses and stamps in factories that could churn out a thousand identical crude parts. They didn't seem threatening, and we were promised they'd bring prosperity. Then the machines got smarter and more complicated, making the delicate gears and springs that craftsponies used to create. Ponies just became slaves to the machines, feeding their furnaces and doing what the steel commanded. Ponies can't do anything for themselves anymore, and that's just what they want! The ponies who make the machines stand hidden behind the controls and watch us dance like we're all cogs! And soon they won't even need us, because they're replacing us from the top down with ponies like her! Ponies pushed by the media and the rich into every household, ponies made entirely out of circuits, ponies that are machines they can control! And through her, they control all of us!

“I have here a device that will reveal what Jasmine Jewel really is!” Brass pulled something like a tuning fork wrapped in batteries and copper wire out of his trenchcoat. “This device creates an electromagnetic surge that can instantly destroy a synth!”

He stalked towards Loopy, holding it up. A spark jumped between the tines of the fork. The radio in Loopy’s ear blared with static and squealed before going completely dead. The way she winced only encouraged him.

Brass stepped closer, holding the device high. “I’ll reveal her for what she really is!”

Behind Loopy, Gwen groaned and slumped, making Brass hesitate.

“What’s wrong?” Brass asked.

“I just feel sick--” Gwen started, before groaning again. Brass ran closer to try and help, despite himself. He reached down to her, and the griffon snapped forward, slamming her forehead into his snout. Brass cried out in pain and backed off, clutching his nose and dropping his boltcaster.

Gwen grabbed Loopy’s hoof and got up, running for the door.

“What are you doing?!” Loopy demanded.

“He’s after you, obviously!” Gwen said. “I don’t know if it’s because of the way you swing your hips or just the fact that you actually work for a living unlike the rest of the ponies in there, but I’m trying to save you!”

“You can’t just save me! He’s got a bomb! All the ponies in there are in danger!”

Gwen shoved open the door, and they ran into the hallway, Gwen dragging Loopy behind her.

“Jasmine it’s cute that you want to be a hero but it’s just not your style,” Gwen said. “Besides, once you’re out of here, he might just decide to give up.”

She grabbed the door for the stairs and pulled on the handle. There was a loud, rattling clank. Gwen looked down at it and squawked in surprise. A chain had been wrapped around the door handle and a pipe running along the wall, a thick padlock holding it securely closed.

“Get back here!” Brass shouted, storming out into the hallway. “I’m not going to let you escape the judgement of the truth!”

Gwen tapped the button for the elevator. “Come on, come on…” she muttered.

“I can’t run away and let other ponies get hurt,” Loopy said, pulling away from Gwen and going after Brass. Out here in the hallway, the only one that would see her was the griffon. Even if she couldn’t go all out she could fight a little.

“Don’t! That thing he’s got--” Gwen warned.

Loopy ran up close to Brass and hit his hoof from below while he tried to bring the awkward, improvised device to bear on Loopy. It went flying up and into the lights, hitting the buzzing halogen lights with a flash like lightning striking that was immediately followed by darkness as every light in the penthouse went out at once.

In the sudden darkness, Loopy spun and kicked, both hooves slamming into Brass’s already sore snout and sending him tumbling down the hallway into a potted plant, knocking him and the ficus over into a groaning mess.

“Huh,” Gwen said. “Nice moves.”

“When you’re famous you need to take a few self-defense classes,” Loopy lied.

“It’s not over,” Brass groaned, shoving leaves away. “Not yet!”

“Give up, Mister Mainspring,” Loopy said. “You need help. If you calm down, we can go to the police and explain to them that you’re just scared and confused. There are professionals you can talk to who can help you get better.”

“I’m not giving anything up,” Mainspring said. “You ruined my plan to expose you in front of the press where everypony could see it, but I’ll make sure you can’t trick any more ponies into whatever you synths are planning!”

He tugged a cord attached to the mess of circuits and boxes on his chest, and the lights started blinking and changing color.

“Woah, that’s my cue to leave,” Gwen said. “Sorry, Jasmine. If you figure out a way out of here, we should do dinner sometime!”

She ran for the other end of the hallway, grabbing a trash bin from next to the elevator and throwing it out ahead of her to smash into the large window there. The griffon tucked her wings in close and dove through the hole she’d made, neatly avoiding touching the broken glass around the edges.

“She really is good,” Loopy muttered. “Now tell me how to disarm this bomb!” She grabbed Brass by his coat lapels, pulling him up to eye level to glare at him.

“You won’t get anything out of me,” he said. “I’m going to show them the kind of monster you really are, synth!”

Loopy tapped the radio earpiece. “Come on… Bon-Bon, are you there? I need somepony from the bomb squad to tell me what to do!”

She didn’t even get the static of an open radio channel from the broken gadget. Loopy spotted a pocketwatch worked into the vest Brass was wearing, wrapped in wires. It was quickly ticking down to zero. There was less than a minute left.

“You were right that I’m a monster, but you’re wrong about one thing,” Loopy growled. She dropped her disguise, green fire washing over her and revealing her black shell. “You only wish I was a machine!”

Brass Mainspring screamed in alarm. Loopy lowered her head, touching her curved horn to his forehead and doing something she hadn’t had to do in a very long time.

Brass Mainspring’s mind was like a finely-made clock that had been wound too tight by life and stress and twisted everything until things started to snap. Beautiful constellations of gears and complications twirled aimlessly, smashing into each other and compounding the damage in a feedback loop.

And now Loopy was going to have to break even more to find what she needed.

She didn’t have the time or expertise to be gentle. She had to smash and grab at every memory in range. Her magic wormed its way between gears, prying them apart and looking at the memories behind them.

Brass screamed.

“Red wire is a trap,” Loopy muttered, as she read the recent memories of his plans for putting the bomb together. “Blue and white striped wire is the detonator.”

She grabbed the wire in her fangs and bit down, snapping it with only seconds to spare. The watch hit zero, and the alarm went off, the bell inside the watch ringing madly and just a little off-key.

“What are you?” Brass whispered. “I thought you were-- you were supposed to be--”

“I’m your worst nightmare,” Loopy rasped, throwing Brass back to the floor.

He looked up at her, sweat pouring down his face, and didn’t manage another word. His eyes rolled back in his head and he passed out, slumping into a heap.

There was a heavy slam against the stairway door. Loopy glanced back and disguised herself as Jasmine Jewel again just as the first members of the Seasaddle PD burst into the hallway, weapons drawn.

“Everypony freeze!” they shouted.

“You’re a little late,” Loopy said. “Glad you could eventually make it to the party.”

Ambulances had been called, but nopony had been seriously hurt. Physically, at least. A few of the more sensitive ponies had been taken away claiming they felt faint or ill from the stress of it all. The only one that really needed an ambulance was Brass Mainspring, and he wasn’t going to the regular hospital.

“She’s a monster! I was right!” Brass shouted. The orderlies dragging him to the back of the waiting ambulance struggled to keep the thin stallion moving. “She’s a creature with a pony’s face! Don’t arrest me! Somepony else had to see it! Ask them! She’s going to prey on us all!”

“I feel sorry for him,” Loopy said, as he was taken away. He turned, and their eyes locked. Brass screamed, his expression twisting into terrified panic. The orderlies had to pick him up entirely, the pony kicking and screaming about Jasmine as he was taken away. Loopy winced. Even from a distance, she could taste the horror pouring out of him. He’d seen her for what she really was, and that was what it had turned him into.

“Why?” Bon-Bon asked. “He almost got a lot of ponies killed.”

“It’s not like he was entirely wrong,” Loopy pointed out. “I mean, I am a monster with a pony’s face. Just not the kind he thought I was.”

“You’re not a monster,” Lyra said. “I’ve known plenty of changelings. Saying they’re monsters is like saying unicorns are monsters because they can do magic that other ponies can’t.”

“It’s not about what I am, not entirely,” Loopy said. “I had to go into his head to find out how to disarm that bomb. I broke things inside him. That’s not something a good pony would do.”

“A bad pony wouldn’t feel conflicted about it,” Lyra said.

“I was backed into a corner, and I made a snap decision,” Loopy said. “I’m just not sure what it says about me.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it too much,” Lyra assured her. “I think you’re a good pony.”

“Maybe. Think you can take care of things here?” Loopy asked.

Jasmine twirled on stage, singing softly. It took a few spins for her to notice that a patch of shadows had peeled away from the rest and was standing in front of her small stage and waiting patiently to be noticed.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Jasmine said. “I was just going over my latest routine and…”

“At midnight?” Loopy asked. She was still disguised as the pony standing over her, but they weren’t quite identical now. Jasmine still looked fresh and happy, and Loopy looked and felt like she’d been through the ringer.

“The job never really ends,” Jasmine said. “I heard a little about what happened. Thank you so much.” She sat down and sighed. “You saved so many ponies… if I had been there, they would have ended up getting hurt. And you didn’t just save them, you did it without even breaking character!”

“It’s what I do,” Loopy said. She let herself get washed over by green fire, switching her disguise to her usual pony form and stretching her wings. “I’m used to playing a part. Playing yours wasn’t so bad.”

“Maybe you could go on tour with me,” Jasmine joked. “I could use a break once in a while.”

“I’d be fun,” Loopy admitted. “But like you said, the job never really ends.”

“You’re good at yours,” Jasmine said, smiling.

“You know, what Brass Mainspring said bothered me,” Loopy said, starting to turn away. “I could feel how much the idea of someone looking like a pony but being something else disgusted him. It didn’t matter what you were. Machine, changeling, a dragon in a suit. He just couldn’t live with the idea.”

“Was he really wrong? Machine or not, I am just putting on a show. Everything about me is fake, just something made by a corporation to sell merchandise.”

Loopy shrugged. “You’re not a fake.”

Jasmine looked up in surprise.

“Take it from an expert - your feelings are the real thing, and that’s what really separates a person from a machine. I’ve met ponies who were as dead inside as a chunk of wood, but you’re different.”

“Thank you,” Jasmine said, quietly. She wiped at her eyes. She wasn’t quite crying.

“If you ever get a chance to play the kind of music you really want, let me know. I want to hear it.”

Jasmine nodded. Loopy nodded back and waved as she left.

The job never really ended, after all, and both of them had to get back to work.

Bubble Bubble Toil And Trouble, Part 1

Loopy liked one thing about Seasaddle. It had been designed more like a changeling hive than any other city in Equestria - the tall buildings and elevated roads and train tracks gave the city far more depth and dimensionality than anywhere else she’d been. Manehattan could match the skyscrapers but the only thing between the towers was empty air and the occasional passing pegasus. Seasaddle was caught in a web of concrete and steel trusses.

Even now, near midnight, Seasaddle was alive. It was one of the rare nights when the clouds overhead broke up and the rain stopped. Ponies that spent most nights indoors took the opportunity to get out and finally enjoy themselves. Nightclubs warred for attention, the streets filling with pounding music.

The criminals seemed to have taken the night as a holiday. From her perch on top of a concrete monstrosity of an office building, Mare Do Well hadn’t seen anything more serious than a few pockets being picked, and things were so quiet she was sorely tempted to drop down and scare the life out of a few punk foals over what amounted to enough bits for bus fare.

“You want to start heading back?” Lyra asked. “I don’t think anything’s going to happen tonight.”

“You might be right,” Mare Do Well admitted.

“Don’t sound so down. If you don’t have anything to do, it’s good for the city, right? So it’s happy news!”

“It makes me feel more like I’m missing something important,” Mare Do Well said.

Lyra snorted. “If you say so. I mean, technically we’re not even police. These patrols aren’t entirely sanctioned by Canterlot, so it’s a grey area on if you’ve got authority or if you’re just a civilian.”

“If you’re really worried about how it would play in court, you probably shouldn’t be talking to me,” Mare Do Well pointed out. She stepped away from the edge of the building. At some point, it stopped being looking for trouble and started feeling more like she was just spying on ponies. “Do you want me to pick up anything on the way back?”

“They’ve got this new orange-mocha frappamochiatto at Novo’s--” Lyra started before Bon-Bon cut her off.

“A call just went out over the police band,” Bon-Bon said. “There’s a break-in at the PrinTecca building. They’re calling for all units, police and fire.”

Mare Do Well ran to the other edge of the building she was standing on, looking over the edge and down the canyon-like city streets, trying to pick out the PrinTecca building. “Think they can use a concerned civilian helping them out? I’m only a few blocks away.”

“They’re calling for all emergency responders, and that means you,” Bon-Bon said. “You’re actually on the clock for this one.”

“Give me the details on the way. I can beat the police there.”

“Automatic alarms went off ten minutes ago, and the on-site security didn’t reply to any calls for status, so it was treated as a real alarm and the security company notified the police,” Bon-Bon explained. “They’re dispatching everything because they don’t know what to expect.”

The PrinTecca building was one of the newest in the city. It was a fusion of form and function designed to impress investors and give the company plenty of room to expand as they found their place in Seasaddle. The facade deliberately invoked Canterlot like the timeless capital would lend some of its stability to the financial district.

Mare Do Well dropped down to the main entrance, a slice of parkland four stories above the ground housing a u-shaped bit of road and surrounded by high walls, letting ponies drive in and feel like they were on an estate. A fountain provided just enough white noise to muffle the sounds of the city. It was almost a perfect illusion.

Mare Do Well walked forward cautiously, looking at the building and keeping her eyes open. The frame had a huge archway picked out in gold, but the doors inside it were glass. Whoever had decided to lay siege to the building hadn’t needed a battering ram to get inside. Loopy picked her way carefully over the shattered remnants.

“They didn’t even try to be careful,” Mare Do Well whispered. “If they wanted to hide what they were doing they wouldn’t have smashed right through the front doors.”

“Amateurs?” Bon-Bon guessed.

“Maybe,” Mare Do Well said. She walked into the lobby, looking around.

There was still some of that Canterlot glit and glitter, traces of gold along wall panels and marble floors that would pass for the real thing at a casual glance, but it was a lot more like what she’d expect from a professional workplace. She trotted up to the front desk and peeked around at the other side.

“No sign of security,” she said. “I’m guessing somepony is supposed to be here. There’s still a cup of coffee.”

“Is it an orange-mocha frap?” Lyra asked.

“It would explain why it’s still here,” Mare Do Well said. “That still sounds disgusting. I think it’s just black coffee.”

“Ew. Who drinks coffee without sugar?” Lyra made a disgusted sound.

“You wouldn’t be putting weight on if you drank diet,” Bon-Bon quipped. “That’s why I drink Berry Clear. Everything they make is sugar-free.”

“I think I hear something up ahead,” Mare Do Well whispered. “Keep the line quiet for a minute.”

She crept forward, focusing on keeping her own hoofsteps silent as she moved from cover to cover, the visitor couches and decorative pillars giving her plenty to hide behind as she made her way through the empty lobby and to the first set of security doors.

Like the front doors, they were only security in the sense that they politely asked ponies to stay out, and they’d been shattered the same way. Mare Do Well walked through, pressing herself against the wall at the next turn and pausing when she spotted something odd. Something had torn through the wall panels just above head-height. She reached up to touch the edge, and it was sticky.

For a second she thought it was blood, but the consistency was more like maple syrup.

“Strange,” Mare Do Well muttered.

She heard a crash ahead and snapped to attention, bolting through the corridor. The next set of doors were much less polite about asking ponies to keep out. They were steel, and that had been cut and bent like a can opener had been taken to it.

Mare Do Well slipped through the broken door and into the lab beyond. It was already half-destroyed, tables overturned and equipment sparking. For a moment, Loopy thought there were bodies littering the floor, but they weren’t ponies. They were steel and brass, metal limbs and vaguely-equine heads built with curved screens instead of faces.

“What’s this? More security?” Asked a tinny voice from the shadows.

“I’m only going to ask nicely this one time,” Mare Do Well rasped. “Show yourself and surrender and nopony needs to get hurt.”

“I wouldn’t be sure about that,” the voice said. “I think you might get hurt quite badly.”

A pony stepped into the light. Every hoofstep rang out against the floor with pure, musical tones. Mare Do Well’s eyes went wide.

She’d seen crystal ponies before, but never a glass pony. She looked like a sculpture, her glass skin gleaming in the overhead light, a twist of silica giving the impression of a mane in tail in what should have been lifeless mineral but was somehow moving. The strangest thing was the hollow space inside her. Something within the glass pony was sloshing, bubbling with the movement like it was carbonated.

“What are you?” Mare Do Well asked.

“I’m a professional,” the pony said, the glass flowing almost like flesh. “And I already know about you. Ponies have been talking about Mare Do Well. They say you think you’re some kind of hero.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“More like something to put on your gravestone,” the glass pony said. She charged with a burst of explosive movement.

Mare Do Well almost missed it. The pony was impossible to read, her emotions as slippery as she was, and Mare Do Well was too used to attacks being telegraphed long in advance by ponies who fought with furious anger. Against this ice-cold mare, it was just fizzling out.

Mare Do Well jumped over her, landing on her back and kicking hard off of it, trying to send her to the ground with the impact.

The glass pony cracked with the blow, stumbling forward and sliding into a row of boxy equipment and half-assembled steel panels. More cracks grew around her joints. A trickle of something thick started to leak from the broken glass.

“Doesn’t look like you can keep this up,” Mare Do Well said. “You’re starting to leak.”

The glass pony smiled. “You’re not very smart, are you?”

Her foreleg exploded, the liquid inside rushing out at Mare Do Well like it was being fired from a hose. She jolted to the side and only barely avoided the splash, but something cut right through her costume and against her carapace, sharp enough to leave a mark despite barely touching her.

The glass pony laughed sweetly and the liquid flowed back towards her, moving like the tentacle of some underwater beast. Glass shards studded the flowing goo like thorns.

“The more I break, the more I break you,” she said. The liquid flowed back inside her, the glass reassembling like a puzzle and reforming her leg, the cracks healing. “And unlike you, I get better.”

“Don’t like this,” Mare Do Well muttered.

“What are you seeing?” Bon-Bon asked. “Did you find the intruder?”

The glass pony’s entire lower half shattered spontaneously and she rocketed towards Mare Do Well like she’d been launched from a rocket. Mare Do Well ducked out of the way and the trail of glass and fizzing goo raked across her back, tearing her cape to shreds.

“I found her and I have no idea what to do with her,” Mare Do Well said.

“Are you talking to somepony else?” the glass pony teased, pulling herself together and turning around to look. “I’m jealous. I should be enough to occupy your attention!”

“Don’t worry, you’re all I’m thinking about,” Mare Do Well said. She slammed a back hoof into the mare’s snout. It cracked, her features breaking up.

“You annoying little--” the mare hissed, her voice distorted. “--Faces are difficult! It takes forever to get it right!”

She shoved Mare Do Well away, her face a broken void, the edges flaking away into the swirling mass that had been below.

“Well isn’t that lovely,” Mare Do Well whispered, backing off.

“You’ll be lucky if you look this good when I’m done with you!” the glass pony’s voice was even more distorted, like it was coming from underwater. The surface of her liquid insides rippled and a tendril lanced out of the ruin of her face, stabbing at Mare Do Well and missing widely, not even catching her hat.

“If your aim is that bad, I don’t have much to worry about,” Mare Do Well said.

“You act like I was trying to hit you,” the glass pony said, the tendril pulling back, curling around her hollowed head like a scorpion’s sting, ready to strike.

“What?” Mare Do Well glanced behind her.

A bright red pressurized tank only a few paces behind her was bulging, the valve broken by the strike that had gone wide.

Mare Do Well ran for it, throwing herself behind an overturned table. The tank failed just as she was diving for cover. Fire and shrapnel filling the room. The steel table wasn’t nearly enough to stop everything, needle-sharp blades punching through it like it wasn’t there.

“Are you still alive?” the glass monster asked. “I hope you’re not done. I thought you had more moxie than that!”

The fire alarm went off as flames crawled along the wall, noxious smoke starting to fill the room. The glass pony froze and looked up just as the sprinkler system went off, a torrent of water flushing into the room.

The monster made an annoyed noise and fled, smashing a tiny, barred window and surging through it like water flowing down a drain.

Mare Do Well stood up, wincing. A sliver of twisted metal from the broken tank was sticking out of her shoulder. She yanked it free and limped for the door.

“And here I was hoping to stay dry tonight,” she grumbled.

“You can’t be serious,” Loopy said.

“I’m always serious,” the officer said. She held up a set of cuffs. “You can either wear these or not but you’re coming with me either way!”

“It’s not happening, Loopy told her. “I’ve had a bad night and if you think I’m going to let you make it worse, you’re delusional. What’s your name?”

“My name is Officer None of your Beeswax is what my name is,” the mare said, spitting on the expensive faux-marble lobby floor. “I don’t like vigilantes, I don’t like ponies going over my head, and you’re a vigilante waving a badge around and saying you don’t have to listen to me.”

“I already explained, I came here when the all-units call went out,” Loopy said. “I didn’t do any of the damage!”

“Sure, like you said, a monster did it,” the officer snorted derisively. “That’s much more likely than the pony in the mask who won’t even tell me her real name. Don’t worry, once I get you downtown you can tell me all about this stupid monster story.”

“That’s enough, Officer Beeswax,” a tired voice said. A detective in a dark brown overcoat walked out of the back room. “We found the security guards. They’ve corroborated the story about the glass monster pony.”

“Your name is seriously Beeswax?” Loopy asked, amazed.

“Sir, even if she didn’t do it, she had something to do with it! At least let me take her down to the station so we can get a statement out of her on the record!”

“Just let it go,” the detective said. “Go take a walk and cool down.”

Officer Beeswax sputtered in frustration and stormed off.

The detective walked up to Loopy and looked at her. The stallion pulled a paper pack out of his coat and offered it to the changeling. “Salt stick?”

“No thanks,” Loopy said.

“Suit yourself,” the stallion said. He took one out and sucked on the end. “Now look, Beeswax is right about one thing. Vigilantes don’t belong on the streets. While you’re working for the Agency, I can’t touch you and I don’t want to. Just do me a favor, alright?”

“What?”

The detective sighed. “Stay in your own lane. Next time, wait for my ponies to respond, or at least call in and let us know you’re on the job.”

He fished in his jacket and pulled out a card, giving it to Loopy.

“That’s got my direct number. If I don’t answer, you call the front desk and ask for Detective Arabica. If they don’t answer, use the police band. I know you can get on the radio. If you can’t get through to me, at least ponies will know you tried and we’ll call it a wash, right?”

Loopy hesitated, then nodded and put the card away.

“I’d like to think we can at least try to work together,” Arabica said. “Your agency did good work with the Sirius Hotel incident. I’d rather have you as a friend than an enemy.”

“I think I can work with that,” Loopy agreed.

Arabica held out his hoof to shake. Loopy took it and winced. He glanced at her shoulder.

“You want me to get the medics? That’s a nasty cut.”

“I’ve had worse,” Loopy said. “No offense, but I don’t want them poking and prodding me without my mask on.”

Arabica smiled. “Fair enough. Just remember, next time--”

“--I’ll call first,” Loopy agreed.

“Her name is Vitria,” Bon-Bon said. She held up a folder.

“Just give me the highlights,” Loopy said, wincing when Lyra pressed a cotton ball into her shoulder wound. “Ow!”

“Sorry, that’s the iodine,” Lyra apologized. “I don’t want to take any chances. There was this weird brown gunk in some of your cuts and scrapes and the last thing we need is to try and find you a doctor.”

“The weird brown gunk was from-- what did you say? Vitria?”

“Yeah,” Bon-Bon said. She sat down and paged through the file. “It’s not her real name. They call her the Vitrified Pony.”

“Cute, because she’s made of glass.”

“That’s the thing, she isn’t made of glass,” Bon-Bon said. “The glass is more like a diatom’s shell. She’s the liquid inside, and the shell just holds her together and gives her shape. It’s like a bug’s exoskeleton.”

“Trust me, you don’t have to explain how those work,” Loopy snorted. “So how’d that happen?”

“Some kind of experiment. She’s not originally from Equestria, so our information is limited. She’s wanted internationally for being a mercenary, assassin, and thief.”

“I don’t think anypony died, so what was she stealing?” Loopy asked, raising her hoof so Lyra could wrap bandages around her shoulder, grimacing as the unicorn put pressure on the wound to help close it.

“That’s the strange thing,” Bon-Bon said. “As far as we can tell, nothing. They’re still going over everything, but even though there was a fire, it got put out quickly, and the PrinTecca people haven’t discovered anything missing yet.”

“So either they don’t want to admit what was taken, or Vitria wasn’t there to steal anything?” Loopy asked. “Thanks, Lyra.”

Lyra patted Loopy’s good shoulder. “Try not to get cut up too badly next time. I’ve only had like one first-aid class. I can’t do stitches yet.”

“We might be asking the wrong questions,” Bon-Bon said. “She doesn’t do anything for free. Somepony in this city hired her, and we can figure out why after we figure out who.”

Bubble Bubble Toil And Trouble, Part 2

Sometimes Black Valintino thought he was the only sane pony in the city. It wasn’t like he hadn’t tried to explain things to others. He’d made speeches about the incredible potential Seasaddle held, he’d told ponies about his vision for the future, and he’d even had private meetings with some of the other ponies that had risen to power. The last of those was the most disappointing. They were pointlessly, blindly greedy. Most of them could only see to the end of the next financial quarter and could only evaluate things in terms of bits.

It made Black’s heart hurt, because they could do so much more if they’d just all work together.

He sighed and stepped away from the window. It was a beautiful view, but it was also depressing in some ways and he couldn’t keep his guest waiting. Even if he was paying her, it was silly to pay her to wait.

The pony, which was a term he was generously using, sat on the edge of his desk and sipped on her fourth soda in the last fifteen minutes.

“You know that stuff isn’t good for you,” Black said, sitting down. It put his guest’s head above his, but he didn’t care about silly little displays of dominance. She could kill him in an instant if she really wanted. But she wouldn’t get paid for doing that.

“I get low blood sugar,” the glass pony said. Vitria smiled and polished off the last of her soda. “Besides, it’s not like it can rot my teeth.”

“I suppose not,” Black agreed. “The news about PrinTecca is all over the papers this morning. The CEO said they’re hoping to rebuild and be back to normal in just a few weeks.” He sat back and gave Vitria a flat look.

“I still destroyed the prototypes you wanted destroyed. Your market position is secure, and I’d better still get paid.”

“You will be,” Black assured her.

“I would have done more damage, but I was interrupted,” she said. “I got to meet one of your local celebrities.”

“Oh?” Black asked.

“Mare Do Well. She got there even before the police. I admit it’s my fault -- I was playing with her too much and I got distracted.” Vitria shrugged. “She’s tougher than she looks. I think I felt some kind of armor under that spandex.”

“You know, I owe her my life,” Black said. “Or at least, halfway. She saved me from a different Mare Do Well with better fashion sense. I’ve been hoping I could leave her alone, as a favor. After all, getting rid of the criminal element is important. That’s the whole reason I donate so much to our wonderful local police.”

Vitria reached for a fifth bottle of soda, striking the neck on the edge of the desk and popping off the cap. Black winced, trying not to look at the mark she’d left. “Big enough donations that they show up late when PrinTecca’s alarms go off?” She took a big drag of the drink.

Black hesitated for a moment, watching with interest as the darker cola flowed into her liquid insides, spreading out and vanishing like cream mixing into coffee.

“A few ponies in the department understand that it’s important to cooperate with local business interests,” Black said. “They keep me informed of events, and I pass along my thanks from time to time.”

“We’re not being recorded. You can just say you bribe them.”

“I don’t like to think of it like that,” Black said. “It’s the cost of doing business and reducing the number of rogue elements.”

“Rogue elements like Mare Do Well?” Vitria asked.

Black sighed and stood up, pacing behind his desk. “It’s a tough thing, isn’t it? She could have been a real asset, but I can’t have her interfering in my business. Not when things are going to come to a head soon. I need this nipped in the bud.”

“Fifty thousand,” Vitria said.

Black raised an eyebrow. “That’s less than your usual fee. She doesn’t seem like particularly easy prey.”

Vitria nodded and leaned over on the desk seductively, or at least as seductive as a glass sculpture with something sloshing around inside it could be. “Quite the opposite. She seems like she’ll be fun to play with. The discount is because I’m going to enjoy this.”

“Did you call the Seasaddle PD?” Mare Do Well asked, looking through the broken skylight. She could see flashing red lights inside from the tripped alarm, but nothing else was visible from the outside.

“I was able to get a message through,” Bon-Bon said. “I thought they’d be more resistant to it but they’ve given you the go-ahead and they’ve got ponies on the way as backup.”

“I guess Detective Arabica was serious about wanting to work with us instead of against us,” Mare Do Well said.

“If it means I don’t have to submit an expense report for bail funds, I’m all for it,” Bon-Bon said.

“I’m going in. I’ll keep you updated,” Mare Do Well said. She slipped through the broken skylight and dropped down to the floor. The building was some kind of machine shop, with steam hammers and power tools surrounding Mare Do Well. A few half-finished steel pieces like mass-produced plate mail lay in boxes here and there.

She looked around, trying to see anything through the gloom, and the machines around her roared to life. Hammers slammed down on base plates, arc furnaces roared to life, saws buzzed just out of sight. Mare Do Well froze in place. The sodium lights overhead buzzed and hummed, starting to warm up.

“We got interrupted last time,” said a familiar, light voice. “I really hate it when I feel like I leave a job unfinished, you know?”

“Vitria,” Mare Do Well growled.

“I’d say ‘in the flesh’ but both of us know that’s not strictly true,” Vitria said. She stepped into sight behind a production line moving red-hot ingots from one machine to the next.

“I thought I might run into you,” Mare Do Well said. “What are you here for? Who do you work for?”

“I don’t kiss and tell. My client pays a premium so he doesn’t have to get his hooves dirty, I’m not going to drag him into it. But I can tell you about my job. I’m here just to take care of you, Mare Do Well.”

“I came prepared this time,” Mare Do Well said, backing up to get some distance between them.

“Good. Show me what you’ve got!” Vitria’s sides exploded, and two tendrils grabbed onto the conveyor belt in front of her, tearing it apart and flipping it towards Mare Do Well, glowing ingots going everywhere.

Mare Do Well ducked behind a milling machine, letting the heavy equipment take the beating in her place. The bolts holding it to the floor squealed and snapped, and Mare Do Well watched as Vitria lifted it up, the half-empty glass mare trotting forward and looking smug.

“You can’t hide,” Vitria said.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Mare Do Well said. She reached under her cape and pulled out a brightly-colored toy. Vitria hefted the heavy machine high, and Mare Do Well fired, a stream of water hitting one of the glass mare’s liquid tentacles and splashing through it. The monster looked up in surprise as she lost her grip on the milling machine. It came down right on top of her, shattering her body.

“I brought along something special just for you,” Mare Do Well said. “I saw how much you liked the sprinkler system last time we fought.” She swapped the plastic tank of the water gun out with another, pumping it a few times to pressurize it. “Lucky for you it’s been a dry couple of days, or you wouldn’t be able to operate here at all, would you?”

“Oh, you are clever,” Vitria said, shoving the broken machine aside. Glass shards started coming back together, broken legs reforming as she put herself back together like a puzzle.

Mare Do Well sprayed her down again, keeping her from reassembling.

“Hey, I need ideas on how to put her down for the count,” Mare Do Well said. “I’m pretty sure this squirt gun is just making her angry.”

“Maybe extreme temperature?” Lyra suggested. “Even if she’s made of goo she has to boil or freeze at some point.”

Mare Do Well nodded to herself, trying to herd Vitria towards the glowing furnaces that were churning out the metal ingots. Shattered and oozing more like a shapeless puddle than anything pony-shaped, Vitria didn’t seem to notice until she backed up all the way to the burning hot machines.

A burst of flame sputtered out of the furnace, and Vitria’s fizzing surface rippled, steam starting to rise from her body.

“I think it might be working,” Mare Do Well said.

Vitria lunged to the side, trying to get away from the heat, surging like a fountain and trying to skip over the concrete floor. Mare Do Well fired her water gun, and the empty tank sputtered air.

“Not now!” Mare Do Well hissed. She grabbed her last plastic tank, trying to screw it into place. Vitria tore the cover off a drain set in the floor and disappeared down into it.

“What happened?” Bon-Bon asked.

“She’s gone. Went down the drain.” Mare Do Well frowned. “Any idea where it goes?”

“That’s a machine shop, so for safety reasons, it can’t go right into the sewer. Some kind of underground holding tank?”

The concrete floor started to buckle.

“I was wrong,” Mare Do Well said. “She decided to stick around after all!”

The floor shattered, a tendril whipping through the air and cracking against Mare Do Well’s fetlock, ripping into her costume and knocking the water gun out of her hoof. It skittered across the floor, and she dove for it. Another liquid limb snatched it up, squeezing the plastic until it cracked before tossing it across the room.

“There’s one other weakness she might have,” Bon-Bon said. “It says that she doesn’t have a lot of endurance. She burns through her energy quickly and has to find something to eat.”

Mare Do Well lowered her stance, trying to keep on her hooves as the entire floor rumbled. “Does she eat ponies?”

“No, mostly sugar,” Bon-Bon.

“So at least she isn’t a cannibal,” Lyra said.

“Lucky me!” Mare Do Well shouted. She bolted, instinct telling her to move. The concrete exploded where she’d been standing, Vitria pulling herself out of the drainage system and looking much more composed, still shattered but mostly in a pony shape, her mane blown out and tendrils waving in the air around her.

“Get back here!” Vitria yelled.

“You’ll have to catch me first!” Mare Do Well shouted, running for the front door and bursting through it. Part of her was hoping for rain when she got outside but it was still a beautiful night. Four police ponies, weapons drawn, were jogging towards the door.

“Stay back!” Mare Do Well warned. “She’s right behind me! Get to cover!”

They didn’t understand until Vitria ripped the door off its hinges and stormed out, throwing the steel panel like a discus. Mare Do Well shoved one of the cops out of the way, the broken door slicing through the air where she’d been standing.

“I’ve got to get her away from the police! She’ll just tear through them!”

“Don’t bring her back here,” Bon-Bon warned.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Mare Do Well muttered. “Let’s see if she wants me badly enough to run a little marathon.”

Mare Do Well ran for it, hopping over train tracks and trying to keep ahead of Vitria without getting too far ahead. Just enough to be a tempting target. The glass pony gave chase, running onto the train tracks.

There was a loud whistle. Mare Do Well and Vitria both looked to the side in surprise. Neither of them had seen the train coming. It smashed into Vitria and kept going.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” Mare Do Well admitted. She paused and looked. There was no sign of Vitria. “Maybe she splattered for good?”

A glass dagger ripped through Mare Do Well’s hat, slicing a wide cut through the brim.

“Nope! Not splattered!” Mare Do Well jumped back as Vitria pulled herself out from under the speeding train.

“This is so annoying,” the liquid mare said. A dozen thin tendrils pulled themselves into the open, weaving into four limbs. Her glass frame was more like porcupine spines than an exoskeleton. “My face got shattered again! I swear sometimes I think I put it back together wrong. I don’t even have anypony I can ask, because most ponies who see me don’t live to meet me twice!”

Mare Do Well ran for it, glass raining down around her like she was being pursued by an archer. There was a tangle of light industry, small factories bunched up together in rented spaces in a maze designed more for delivery carts and cargo than ponies.

She looked left and right at the small factories around her, trying to find some kind of inspiration. Then a sign to the left caught her attention, and Mare Do Well ran for it

“I’ve got an idea,” she said, over the radio. “If this doesn’t work, it’ll be really stupid. If it does work, it’ll be really clever.”.

“You have no idea where you’re even going,” Vitria said. “Why not stop running and fight fairly? I might make it quick. Maybe.”

Mare Do Well kicked the door, breaking the lock and running inside, hitting the lights. When Vitria followed her in, the glass monster laughed.

“Are you trying to be ironic? This is a soda factory!” She grabbed a case of empty bottles and threw them at Mare Do Well, chasing her deeper inside. “I was just getting thirsty, too!”

“Then come and get a tall drink of defeat,” Mare Do Well said.

“That line was awful,” Lyra muttered.

“Shut up, this is going to work,” Mare Do Well hissed.

Vitria slowly walked towards her. She looked exhausted. Her tendrils were dripping more, and she was leaving a trail on the floor like a slug, like she was just barely keeping herself up, especially with her glass shell in such bad shape.

She paused and looked to the side, and even though she didn’t have a face at the moment, Mare Do Well could practically see the growing grin. A pallet of bags was sitting there, some of them leaking from tiny rips.

“Oh that’s just what I need,” Vitria said. She tore the bags open, ripping through the plastic and letting the white powder inside fall out. “Ah! It’s so sweet!”

Mare Do Well took a step back, just watching.

“Don’t tell anypony, but I just love sugar,” Vitria said. “It’s a bad habit. I really do need to get more vitamins. Maybe after I finish you I’ll leave the ponies here a note about making a soda that’s got all the nutrition a pony needs.”

“They might be interested in that,” Mare Do Well said. “They’re very health-conscious here.”

Vitria scoffed and took a step forward. She stumbled as a wave of tiredness suddenly hit her.

“Something’s… wrong...” she whispered.

“This is the Berry Clear factory,” Mare Do Well said. “I saw the sign when we were walking in. They only make diet soda. All those bags weren’t full of sugar. They were full of artificial sweeteners.”

“What?” Vitria asked. “But--”

She reached for Mare Do Well, slumping.

“This isn’t fair,” she moaned, her shape blurring as she sank down. “I can’t… I can’t…”

“If it’s any consolation, I’m sure it’ll be great for your figure.”

Vitria groaned one last time before going still.

Mare Do Well tapped her ear. “Hey, Bon-Bon? Tell the cops it’s safe to enter.”

“I’ll have them bring a mop and bucket.”

“Is that really going to hold her?” Mare Do Well asked, watching the pressure tank get carried away. “I’ve seen her tear through steel.”

Detective Arabica shrugged. “I doubt it, but it’s only temporary. Somepony above my pay grade saw how many countries she’s wanted in and contacted Canterlot. Did I mention how much I hate it when orders come down from above?”

“I’ve heard a few things,” Mare Do Well said.”

“Well, this time I don’t hate it so much. The plan is to get that thing out of my city. It’s probably going to be years before they decide where she’s going permanently. Zebrica has a decent claim since the Princess won’t extradite anyone to Saddle Arabia while they’ve still got the death penalty.”

“So, what, they’re taking her to Canterlot?” Mare Do Well asked.

“Better,” Detective Arabica grinned. “They’re going to put her in a neutral country for safekeeping. That mare is on her way up to Yakyakistan!”

Mare Do Well nodded. “She might freeze solid, you know.”

“It probably wouldn’t hurt her permanently,” Arabica said. “Besides, a mare like that is better on the rocks.”

The Shoulders of Giants, Part 1

“Honestly I don’t know why I was looking forward to this,” Lyra said, and she stared at the drink in her hooves. It was beautiful, streaks of orange and black making it look like somepony had juiced a tiger and topped it with whipped cream.

“What does it taste like?” Loopy asked with morbid curiosity.

“You know those chocolate oranges you sometimes get around Hearth’s Warming?” Lyra asked. “You know, the big solid ones that can separate into slices and it’s sort of like, orange-flavored chocolate?”

Loopy nodded.

“That’s what I was hoping it would taste like,” Lyra said. “But actually it just tastes like somepony mixed some orange juice into cold coffee.”

“I keep warning you about drinks like that,” Bon-Bon said. “Seasaddle is supposed to be the coffee cafe capital of Equestria, but you just want to go to Novo’s. We’ve got a Novo’s back home in Ponyville!”

Lyra whined plaintively like a toddler without her bottle. “But in Ponyville, we don’t have all the new drinks yet! We’re always months behind!”

“Imagine waiting months for a drink and it ends up tasting like that,” Loopy said, motioning to Lyra’s elaborate and disgusting coffee. The changeling grabbed a donut and nibbled on it. “I’m not going out to get you something else. The rain is just pouring down tonight.”

“We had almost a week of dry nights,” Bon-Bon said. “The weather wants to make up for it, I guess.”

“At least it’s dry down here!” Lyra said. “You’d think the subway would flood in a storm like this.”

“Keep talking like that and you’re going to jinx it,” Loopy said. “It’s a spacious, rent-free place in the middle of Seasaddle, and I am not going to let you mess that up by thinking about it too hard.”

“Come to think of it, we need to come up with a cool name for this place,” Lyra said. “Like… the Marecave!”

“First, that sounds like a double entendre,” Bon-Bon said. “Second, I already filled out the paperwork and this is officially the Park Row Provisional SMILE Office.”

“That doesn’t even make an acronym!” Lyra groaned.

“I’m all in favor of it sounding professional,” Loopy said. “Sorry, Lyra.”

Bon-Bon nodded and opened the paper, flipping through. “We have to at least try to be professional. The local PD still doesn’t like us all that much.”

“Maybe we can solve some of their outstanding cases,” Loopy suggested.

“That’d just make them more upset,” Bon-Bon muttered. “The reason I have the paper is so we can try and find something new.”

“Oh, how about this?” Lyra pointed to an article.

“An article about horoscopes?” Bon-Bon asked.

“No, it’s about the Horoscope supercomputer,” Lyra said. “It’s supposed to use totally new technology. Instead of just running numbers, it uses divination spells to predict answers.”

“I bet that wouldn’t work well in school,” Loopy said. “Not that I ever went, but I bet most teachers don’t want to hear you’re guessing and predicting the answer to math problems instead of just adding the numbers.”

“It’s more complicated than that,” Lyra said. “Calling it a guess is like… like saying buckball is a game of chance. There are statistics, and skill, and rules, and--”

“--And most prophecy is useless,” Loopy noted. “Or at least so vague you can apply it to anything. Like, look at this. The article says the Horoscope predicted a flood two days ago, and early this morning a bunch of pipes broke and a low-lying part of the city got flooded out.”

“That sounds like a successful prediction to me,” Lyra said.

“Except everypony knew there’d be flooding,” Loopy said. “I’ve lived here a while. Every time there are heavy rains, something floods.”

“It’s odd, though,” Bon-Bon said. “The computer predicted the place and time. It’s still a little vague, but it’s not like most of these doomsday predictions you get from prophets.”

“Maybe they got lucky,” Loopy shrugged. “Like I said, that part of the city has streets below sea level. If anything was going to flood, it would be there.”

“It’s made other predictions,” Lyra said.

“Winning lottery numbers?” Loopy asked.

Bon-Bon snorted. “That’s what I’d ask it for. But it looks like it just predicts bad things. The paper mentions it predicting some kind of towering inferno near the heart of the city.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” Loopy said. “Does it say where?”

“Why?” Lyra asked. “Worried that it’s going to come true?”

Loopy rolled her eyes. “I just want to know how many bits I should bet you that it won’t come true.”

“How about if it comes true you owe me a coffee?” Lyra asked.

“Deal,” Loopy said. “After all, what are the odds of a real fire in this kind of weather?”

“I can’t believe this,” Mare Do Well grumbled. Even with the waterproof coating on her hat and cape, she still felt soaked through to the bone. The storm was driving the rain sideways, and it was practically like a hurricane that had somehow found its way to exactly the wrong side of Equestria.

Mare Do Well was standing across the street from a tower block, the shorter buildings around it only reaching halfway up the skyscraper and making it stand out like a monolith planted in the neighborhood. Smoke poured out of it in big, dirty clouds, flames licking between the metal panels covering the building like a suit of thin, aluminum armor.

“According to the radio chatter, there are still ponies trapped on the upper floors,” Bon-Bon said. “There are barely any pegasus ponies in the city and the fire is cutting off rescue efforts.”

“You’d think there would be a market for weather control here,” Loopy said. She braced herself and flew towards the building. As soon as she got close, the thermals from the flames caught her buzzing wings. Loopy only barely made it to the building without hurting herself, hooves hitting the cladding and sticking. Luckily, she’d hit a section that wasn’t on fire, but even here the metal was uncomfortably hot.

Lyra audibly shrugged. “Hard to sell them on it when they can’t have cloud houses or fly without a license because of height restrictions.”

“How close are you to the top?” Bon-Bon asked.

“Between the storm and the fire, this isn’t as easy as it looks,” Mare Do Well said. She started moving, practically running up the side of the building. The surface was just matte enough to give the changeling decent grip, at least until she stumbled onto a panel as hot as a griddle and almost fell.

Mare Do Well jumped onto a different panel, trying to figure out which floor she was on.

“Can you get anything from fire and rescue?” she asked. “Number of ponies? Floor?”

“Three names on the checklist that aren’t accounted for,” Bon-Bon said. “Top floor! There was only elevator access and that got cut off when the fire started!”

“Only elevator access?” Mare Do Well asked. “Whose idea was that?”

She got to the top and looked down. Fire had already made its way to the roof on one side of the building. Mare Do Well kicked in a window and swung herself inside.

“Is anypony here?” she shouted. “I’m here to rescue you!”

“Oh thank Celestia,” an older mare gasped. She ran out of the darkness, her bowl-cut mane grey with ash and the air fouled with smoke but still tolerable. “I didn’t think anypony was coming!”

“Fire and Rescue said there were three ponies here,” Mare Do Well said. “Are the others okay?”

She heard a moan from the next room and ran in, finding the floor half-collapsed and a pony trapped among the floorboards, barely hanging on, fallen furniture complicating things by pinning her under a steel beam.

“How did this happen?” Mare Do Well asked, trying to help the younger mare free.

“Something exploded on the floor below here,” she coughed. “I can’t- I can’t move--”

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” Mare Do Well said. “You’re going to be fine.”

“You need to get me out of here first!” the older mare shouted. “I can barely breathe!”

Mare Do Well glared at her. “Ma’am--”

“She’s only the help! I’m ordering you to rescue me first!”

“Right,” Mare Do Well said, standing up. “Here’s what we’re going to do.”

“...so I knocked her out and saved the maid,” Loopy finished. “The third ‘pony’ was her bucking cat, but I got that monster out of the penthouse too. Ow!”

“Cat scratches get infected really easily,” Lyra said. “They have to be cleaned out.”

“A lot of ponies got hurt in that fire, but thankfully nopony was killed,” Bon-Bon said. “It was a near thing.”

“I can’t believe the place went up like that during a storm,” Loopy said. “Don’t they use water to put out fires?”

“The cladding on the tower failed inspection three times,” Bon-Bon said. “I talked with the fire chief about it. Apparently, it’s a known issue - the insulation on the backside of the panels is basically shredded paper, wax, and cotton.”

“That sounds like tinder,” Loopy said.

“Yeah, and the outer layer of aluminum kept it dry and out of the rain.” Bon-Bon sat back. “We really need another pony down here. Coordinating with the authorities and doing all the research is getting to me.”

“Hey, I’m trying to help--” Lyra said.

“You’re doing more than enough keeping up with all the tech stuff,” Bon-Bon assured her, nuzzling her cute, smart wife. “I can’t get my head around it.”

“So when the fire started, it just followed the whole outside of the building,” Loopy said.

“A real towering inferno…” Lyra muttered. “Just like the prediction Horoscope made! And it was on Heart street! The Heart of the city!”

“It is a little strange,” Bon-Bon admitted.

“If it really can predict disasters before they happen, it could save lives,” Lyra said. “What if ponies had taken it seriously with the fire? Nopony died, but ponies lost everything they owned, and some of them are going to need weeks in the hospital.”

“Maybe you should reach out to them and try to get a look at how they do it,” Loopy suggested.

“Good idea,” Lyra agreed. She finished wrapping Loopy’s cuts up. “I’m gonna go grab a soda from the corner store. You want one?”

“Sounds good,” Loopy said.

Bon-Bon watched Lyra go, waiting until she left to say anything.

“I know she gets excited about new technology, but I’m still not sure about this computer,” Bon-Bon said. “My instincts tell me there’s something off.”

“Good instincts to listen to,” Loopy agreed. “Somepony told me a long time ago, trust, but verify. Right now that thing’s a black box.”

“If Lyra can talk to the scientists involved, maybe--”

“Girls!” Lyra shouted, running inside, her mane drenched. “There’s trouble!”

Loopy grabbed her hat. “What’s going on?”

“I didn’t even get to the store. The paper put out a late edition just for this!”

Lyra held up a newspaper.

“Horoscope Supercomputer predicts massive roadway collapse,” Loopy read.

“According to this, the Horoscope says there’s going to be a disaster ‘at the road at the place of clovers’,” Lyra said. “You might think it’s just been lucky, but--”

“I’ll get a map of the city and try to find Clover Road or Lucky Lane or whatever else it might mean,” Bon-Bon said, running for the rolled-up maps.

“You get in touch with the Horoscope team,” Loopy said, pointing to Lyra. “See if they can be any more specific.”

“Got it!” Lyra saluted.

“I’m going to get out there,” Loopy said, pulling on her costume. “I’ll follow the elevated roads and see if I spot anything.”

“This has to be the spot,” Bon-Bon said. “If you look at it from above, the elevated roads and tracks look like a four-leaf clover.”

“It’s still standing, so we must have gotten here early,” Mare Do Well said. “Can you get the Seasaddle PD to close the roads?”

“They’re already on it. If we’re wrong, we’re going to owe them a lot of favors,” Bon-Bon said. “There are still ponies on the roads. You need to clear everypony out and direct them towards the barricades to the north and south.”

“Okay. Let’s hope I don’t look too stupid doing this,” Mare Do Well said. She jumped down into traffic, right in front of a group of ponies. “I’m going to need everypony to clear the area! This is an emergency!”

Ponies halted where they were, whispering to each other.

“An emergency doesn’t mean you stay where you are!” Mare Do Well yelled. “You need to move!”

The road under her hooves started vibrating subtly. Ponies around her started looking down.

“MOVE!” Mare Do Well screamed. “Go, go, go!”

The ponies started stampeding, and Mare Do Well did her best to direct them in the right directions, hopping from one roadway to the next, pointing the way to safety. The whole time, the shaking was getting worse. It was already rattling like a train was rushing past.

Mare Do Well hopped down a few levels, checking to make sure there weren’t any ponies. Finally, she dropped to the ground, ushering the last few ponies off the road and to the barricades the Seasaddle PD had set up at a safe distance.

“Everypony just stay calm!” the officer there said. “Everything is going to be fine! This is a safe place, you’re out of the danger zone!”

Mare Do Well breathed a sigh of relief for a few seconds, catching her breath. “The quake is getting worse, but it seems like everypony is out of danger,” she said. “How bad is it in the rest of the city?”

“There’s no shaking anywhere else,” Bon-Bon said. “I don’t think this is a normal earthquake.”

“Well, what else could it be?” Mare Do Well asked. She didn’t have time to get an answer, because a wave of panic hit her like a slap. She turned to look.

“What do you mean you don’t have her?” a mare shouted.

“I thought you grabbed her!” a stallion yelled.

Mare Do Well stepped between the yelling ponies, holding up a hoof.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“My baby is still up there!” the mare yelled. “This idiot husband of mine--”

“You can argue later! Where up there?” Mare Do Well looked up.

“T-the blue cart,” the stallion said. Before he could continue, Mare Do Well took off, running for it. The rumbling was getting worse and worse, like she was standing on a tuning fork that was getting tapped over and over again, the resonance getting stronger every time. The interweaving levels of concrete were waving in ways that stone wasn’t supposed to.

She jumped up to the next level and spotted the blue cart, abandoned at the edge of a roadway. Even over the rumbling, she could hear a confused and terrified filly crying for her parents.

The concrete under her hooves cracked, and the rumbling road started tilting. Mare Do Well ran for the cart, grabbing the crying filly out of the back. She couldn’t have been more than two or three years old.

Dust filled the air, and a shadow fell over her. Mare Do Well looked up to see the upper roadway starting to come down. She bolted, the bundle tucked against her body.

“Shhh!” Mare Do Well said, doing her best not to sound scary. She buzzed into the air, picking a path through the tumbling debris even as the roadway dropped out under her. The storm must have had a soft spot for foals, because the winds died down.

Mare Do Well burst out of the cloud of concrete dust, half-blind, and ducked around a falling support column. Chunks of concrete the size of her hoof fell around her, and she twisted to shield the filly. One chunk hit her wing right near the tip, and Mare Do Well felt something break. She bit her lip and spiraled toward the ground like a maple leaf, her one good wing struggling to arrest her fall.

She landed hard, rolling and ignoring the pain in her wing, coming to a rest on the asphalt just as the last of the collapsing roadway settled into place, only a few steps ahead of the rubble. She was on her back, with the filly held tight against her chest.

“You okay?” Mare Do Well asked.

The filly looked up at her and burbled happily. Loopy had never been a mother, but being able to read emotions meant she was pretty good at telling what foals wanted. She raised an eyebrow.

“No, we’re definitely not going on the fun ride again,” she said.

“You must have saved dozens of ponies,” Bon-Bon said. “The current theory is some kind of ground liquefaction caused by the heavy storm. Like the foundations just turned to quicksand.”

The area had been closed off by the Seasaddle PD. Even now, they were going over the debris to check for anypony that might have been missed, but all indications were that they’d all gotten out in time. Loopy had volunteered to help out, just in case her emotional senses would do something, but it looked like there wasn’t anypony to rescue.

“Not to mention the photo op!” Lyra added. “Mare Do Well standing tall and giving a filly back to her mother after plucking her from the jaws of death! It’s pretty heroic if I do say so myself.”

“What else was I going to do, keep her?” Loopy snorted.

“How’s the wing?” Lyra asked, nodding to Loopy’s side.

“It’s… I’ll talk to a specialist next week,” Loopy said, dismissively. “Don’t give me that look. I survived in this city just fine without the government for a long time. I’ve got ponies for things.”

“You mean you’ve got ponies you feed on,” Bon-Bon corrected.

“I meant friends,” Loopy corrected. “But sure, if you want to be gross about it…”

She kicked a chunk of concrete out of the way, then frowned.

“What’s wrong?” Bon-Bon asked.

“You’d better not have just broken your hoof,” Lyra warned. “I am not going to try and splint an exoskeleton.”

“No, it’s…” Loopy grunted. “Help me with this. I think it’s one of the support columns.”

She’d spotted something in a revealed hollow. With Bon-Bon and Lyra’s help, they moved a few more fallen bits of decking and rebar to reveal it.

“What is that?” Bon-Bon asked.

Lyra tried to pull it free. “It’s attached to the column,” she muttered. “Hold on-- got it!” She yanked, and it came free. It was about as long as her foreleg, and shaped like something between an enclosed piston and a barbell.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Bon-Bon said.

“Neither have I,” Loopy agreed. “Think it’s a coincidence that we found a strange machine near the collapsed road, attached to a failed support column?”

“I don’t believe in coincidences.”

The Shoulders of Giants, Part 2

“Okay,” Lyra said, a few hours after they got back to the Mare Lair, or, officially, the Park Row Provisional SMILE Office. “So you were right. This is some really weird stuff.”

She put the device on the floor between them and tapped the main cylindrical body with her hoof.

“This part here? This is really simple. It’s an electric piston, just goes back and forth. The big bulges on the ends are just air pockets to create a pneumatic hammer effect.”

“A what now?” Loopy asked.

“In simple terms, it makes really powerful vibrations, and because the piston is electric, you can adjust the frequency from super low to super high. Watch.” Lyra pulled two wires from the underside of the device and touched them together.

The device sprang to life, shaking on the floor hard enough that Loopy and Bon-Bon could feel it all the way to their teeth. It made surprisingly little noise despite the vibration, the gentle rattling of glass panes and chairs easily eclipsing it.

“Like this, it’s not really very dangerous,” Lyra said. “It’s annoying and you can feel the vibrations from a block away, but it won’t do much else.”

She broke the connection and the vibration instantly stopped.

“So how did it break concrete?” Bon-Bon asked.

“That’s the real trick,” Lyra said. She opened a panel on the device. Inside was a blinking sheet of crystal and copper. “This is an advanced microcontroller. Whoever designed it is legitimately a genius. It ramps the frequency of the piston up and down and listens. If it detects resonance, it narrows the frequency down until it matches it.”

“And that does…?” Loopy asked.

“I had this turned off for the first run. Watch what happens when I loop the microcontroller in.”

She touched a wire to a port on the controller and turned the device back on. This time, when the shaking started, it didn’t level off. The vibrations got stronger and stronger until concrete dust started coming down from the ceiling overhead.

“Whoops!” Lyra tore the wire free, and it took time for the vibrations to stop, like a bell’s tone slowly winding down to silence.

“That can definitely do some damage,” Bon-Bon admitted. She looked up at the roof. “And we have a crack to patch. Great.”

“So who could have built the microcontroller?” Loopy asked. “Maybe the same kind of company that would make a supercomputer?”

“Maybe,” Lyra admitted.

“Were you able to get in touch with them?” Bon-Bon asked.

“Yes and no,” Lyra said. “I couldn’t get through to anyone who wasn’t in marketing, and they only really wanted to talk to me if I was willing to buy stock or write a story for the papers. They’re having an investor dinner and the public isn’t invited.”

“I don’t think I can expense a few million bits worth of stock,” Bon-Bon said. She walked over to a filing cabinet.

“When did we get filing cabinets?” Loopy asked.

“When I started needing to keep track of more than three cases at once,” Bon-Bon said. “Here we go…” she pulled out a folder and smiled. “How would you two like to be reporters for a night?”

“I can’t believe this,” Loopy whispered, as they walked inside. She’d adopted a new disguise for the occasion - no reason to blow her usual cover when she fully expected to get caught. Tonight she was wearing a fetching unicorn with emerald eyes and silver-blue everything else. “No sneaking through vents, no worrying about guards…”

“And they just let us carry in a camera and a voice recorder,” Lyra said. “That’s the great thing about having official press passes!”

“It just seems too easy,” Loopy said. They’d given their rain gear to the coat check and felt a little underdressed, even with the best the SMILE budget could manage, which was two suits that mostly fit, bought from the charity shop around the corner. Loopy would never admit it but she was actually very fond of the tweed jacket she’d found. It had a plaid lining and was a beautiful fashion crime. The way ponies looked away from her made it even better than an invisibility cloak.

“Let’s ask around and snap some photos so we don’t look suspicious,” Lyra suggested.

Loopy nodded, and they walked around, working the room and snapping photos. With the press passes, ponies were happy to talk to them, at least enough to give names and vague statements about how excited they were to be part of the venture. Most of them were the sort of rich but inexpert pony that made their fortune by owning the work others did.

“Take a look over there,” Loopy said, nodding. Lyra raised her camera and took a shot of the podium on one side of the room. It was set up in front of a bank of tape reels, blinking lights, and brightly colored buttons. “Is that the computer?”

“I’m not exactly an expert, but that looks more like a terminal,” Lyra said. “Horoscope is probably somewhere in back. It’s probably a temporary setup so they can show stuff off during the dinner.”

“Something’s happening,” Loopy said, looking around.

“I don’t hear anything?” Lyra frowned.

“I can feel it. I can’t tell where it’s coming from. Keep your eyes open. It could be anything.”

The doors to the back opened, and the lights in the room lowered. A well-dressed mare with far too much product in her mane stepped out. A spotlight snapped down on the pony as she walked up to the podium.

“Everypony, thank you for coming,” the pony in the suit said. She slicked back her mane with a hoof nervously. “I came out here with a speech about how the future was something to look forward to. I…” she sighed dramatically and closed her eyes for a moment. “A few moments ago, Horoscope gave us another prediction.”

A murmur worked its way around the darkened room.

The mare looked up. “For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Doctor Auspex, the lead designer of the Horoscope project. We’ve been ramping up towards full functionality, and over the last week we’ve made several predictions about local disasters, all of which were quickly proven correct. It’s only thanks to the efforts of our local heroes that they were able to act on these predictions in time and save the lives of dozens of innocents.”

“She went to Celestia’s School,” Lyra whispered. “We didn’t have any classes together, but she specialized in divination magic. She really does have the certifications for this.”

“While I was getting ready to come out here and explain how important the Horoscope could be for our future, it gave me terrible news. A disaster is going to strike Seasaddle, of unprecedented proportions.”

Gasps and whispers filled the shadows. Auspex held up her hoof for quiet.

“I know. But there is good news - we have time to avert it! If we do nothing, countless ponies will die! Horoscope wasn’t able to determine the exact cause of the disaster, but it assures me it will happen, within a matter of months.”

“What can we do to save ourselves? I have too much invested to pull out!” somepony shouted from the darkness.

“Unfortunately, with Horoscope’s current ability, it’s impossible to be more specific. We were planning on making some upgrades to the computer to enable exactly the kind of focus we need, but our funding is limited--”

“I’ll invest another million! I can’t just leave!” shouted that same voice. Loopy frowned and squinted into the dark.

“They can’t really be falling for this, can they?” she muttered.

“Scared ponies do a lot,” Lyra whispered. “Want to check out what they’ve got in back?”

“They seem busy,” Loopy said. “We’ll just have to go without a tour guide.”

With the lights off and most ponies staring at the stage, it was easy to sneak into the back. Lyra kept snapping pictures of anything that caught her eye.

“What are you doing?” Loopy asked.

“I’m trying to stay in character. I’m a newspaper photographer right now, remember?” She held up her press pass. “Besides, you never know what might be useful.”

“A close-up of a fire escape isn’t exactly breaking news,” Loopy said.

“Maybe it’s in violation of the fire code?”

Loopy held back a laugh and they made their way through into the next room. It was a massive warehouse space, the floor littered with thick cables and the hum of electricity. The storm outside rattled against the windows, and when lightning flashed, Loopy saw it. A massive, crouched shape like an ancient sphinx.

“I think we found Horoscope,” she whispered, like the computer was sleeping. A single red light blinked slowly from the front side of the huge collection of circuitry. Something about it gave Loopy a sense of being watched, as if there really was something there behind the steel panels and banks of transistors.

“That’s not the only thing,” Lyra said. She snapped a photo of papers sitting on a desk. “These are plans for the oscillators we found in the rubble after that road collapse! And there are plumbing diagrams for the area that flooded!”

“I bet if we look around we’ll find copies of the failed inspections for that tower block that caught on fire,” Loopy said.

Lyra put her camera down and started grabbing papers, bundling them together. “We’ll take this right to the police. It should be more than enough for them to--”

She turned and almost ran right into a humorless stallion wearing black, with enough pouches and pockets to be very tactical without actually being practical.

“Loopy,” Lyra hissed, pretending the stallion couldn’t hear her despite being right there. “I think we might have tripped an alarm.”

Loopy had her hooves up. Another stallion was walking up to her with a baton and without a single trace of humor.

“Seems like,” Loopy agreed. She looked up at the security pony. “Take us to your leader?”

“This isn’t the proper protocol for getting an interview, you know,” Doctor Auspex said.

“We had some problems getting through to your press office,” Loopy said. “You really need to hire a few more ponies.”

“Oh yes, because I’m sure you wanted to give a fair and balanced view of everything going on.” Auspex held up the bundle of papers Lyra had gathered. “You were going to run out of here with company secrets--”

“The police usually call it evidence of a crime,” Lyra countered. “And you weren’t doing a very good job of keeping it secret.”

Auspex blushed and she looked away. “It’s not our field of expertise. Any of this, I mean.” She tossed the papers to the side. “We’re here to build computers, not burn down buildings.”

“Interesting side project, then,” Loopy noted.

Auspex huffed. “You just don’t understand--”

“Then make me understand,” Loopy interrupted. “You’ve got a giant computer, right? Or is that thing just for show?”

“The Horoscope is not just for show!” Auspex snapped. “It works! It can make real predictions! The problem is exactly what I told everypony out there during the dinner! We have significant trouble actually refining the results and focusing it on anything useful. What’s the point of knowing the result of a minor-league buckball game when it could just as easily predict a change in stock prices, or if a line of research in medicine is correct?”

“Or if a disaster is about to happen?”

“Exactly. But what it gives us is…” Auspex walked up to the machine, looking up at its blinking red diode. “Why won’t you tell me what I want to know?” she whispered.

“And you’re just going to dupe investors and run with the money, huh?” Lyra asked. “Real classy.”

“I would never do that!” Doctor Auspex gasped, whirling on them and pointing an accusing hoof. “I am a scientist, not a con-artist! We’re just causing these disasters until we have the funding to actually predict them! It will be the real thing, once we make enough ponies believe in us!”

Loopy shook her head. “That’s not how it works.”

“It can work that way. Fake it until you make it!” Auspex grinned. “This little early difficulty in growth will just be a minor bump. We’re going to change the face of Equestria, once we’re not so deep in the red.”

“It doesn’t work that way,” Loopy said. “I get what you’re trying to do. Trust me, I probably understand better than any pony you’ll ever meet. But if you want something to last, you have to be the real thing.”

“We--” Auspex started, but was cut off by beeping and a dot matrix printer chattering to life, motors whirring as it printed something onto accordion-folded sheets of lined paper. Auspex held up a hoof. “--One moment.”

“Is it about the lottery?” Lyra asked.

“If I could get lottery results I wouldn’t need to put on a show for those investors,” Auspex muttered. She picked up the paper and frowned, dropping it after glancing at the results.

“Well?” Lyra pressed.

“Take these two out back and deal with them,” Auspex said. “I don’t want to get any blood on the Horoscope. The cabling is enough of a mess without having to clean the contacts again.”

Auspex threw the papers into a trash can, a spark falling from her horn to set them on fire.

“I hate getting rid of documentation, but I suppose it’s too dangerous to keep,” she sighed.

“We’re pretty dangerous ourselves,” Lyra said. The two security ponies forced them to their hooves.

“We ain’t afraid of a couple of nosey reporters,” one of them growled.

Loopy met Lyra’s gaze and smiled.

“She should have--” Lyra started. Loopy put a hoof to her lips.

“Don’t you dare say she should have seen it coming,” she warned. It hadn’t even really been a fight. Two overpaid, undertrained security guards and one unicorn who had never thrown a punch in her entire life.

Doctor Auspex was nursing her very first black eye while she was being taken away in hoofcuffs. The guests were leaving, and most of them were already making appointments with their lawyers.

“I shouldn’t be surprised to find SMILE behind this mess,” Officer Beeswax said, walking up to them. “I hope you two realize how difficult it’s going to be to actually prosecute anypony. They’re all clamming up tighter than… oysters? I’m a cop, not a poet, don’t bucking judge me for my metaphors.”

“The good news is, we have plenty of that,” Lyra said. She held up her camera. “I took pictures of the papers and diagrams she destroyed.”

“Not bad,” Beeswax admitted. “But unless we can prove where you found them…”

“I took pictures the whole way through the search, including of the papers in situ,” Lyra noted. She smirked at Loopy. “Like I told you, you never know what’s going to be important, so photograph everything.”

“You say that like I didn’t get anything.” Loopy pulled the voice recorder out of her jacket. “I had this running the whole time. You’ll get to hear Doctor Auspex explaining everything in her own words. I think if you play this for her, she’ll confess to anything you want.”

“Nice,” Officer Beeswax nodded. “You know, I was a little annoyed with you ponies for showing up in the city and running rogue, but… can you pass along a message to Mare Do Well?”

Lyra glanced at Loopy. “Sure.”

“That foal she saved back when the roads collapsed? That was my niece. Tell her I owe her a big favor. She better not abuse it, but… I still owe her, okay? As long as she keeps her snout clean and plays by the rules, she’s in my good books.”

“I’ll let her know,” Loopy promised.

“Good.” Beeswax hesitated. “And double down on the part about her keeping her snout clean. I don’t want her thinking I’m a soft touch. Vigilantes still aren’t a good idea, even if a few are okay.”

She nodded sharply, then walked off to scream at a few ponies who weren’t moving quickly enough for her taste, leaving Lyra and Loopy alone with the Horoscope computer. They walked up to the mountain of metal, and Lyra put a hoof on it, looking melancholy.

“It’s too bad,” she said. “I bet this really could have worked, someday. Doctor Auspex was right that being able to see the future really would change everything.”

“Maybe,” Loopy agreed. She couldn’t shake something, a weird feeling like the computer was really alive. It tickled her emotional senses in a way she couldn’t describe even to other changelings.

Lyra sighed and stepped back, then spotted the paper Auspex had dropped, the last prediction the machine had made. She read it and started laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Loopy asked.

Lyra passed it over, and Loopy snorted. A single line had been printed, in bold letters.

PREDICTION: MARE DO WELL SHUTS DOWN HOROSCOPE SCAM, SAVE COMPUTER FROM BEING USED TO HURT PONIES

Loopy looked up at the blinking light, and felt a tiny twinge of thankfulness from somewhere deep inside.

Foal's Play, Part 1

Loopy groaned, face-down on the mat, undisguised and entirely at ease, every part of her body aching. She’d been taking a beating lately, and today was no exception. Hooves pressed into her back, pressing along her spine, sore muscles and chipped chitin aching under the pressure.

“What have you been doing?” the pony practically standing on Loopy’s back asked. “You look like you’ve been wrestling yaks and losing.”

“I sure feel like it,” Loopy said, her voice muffled by being face down on a cotton mat. “It’s just wear and tear. Normal work stuff.”

“Oh yes, normal work stuff,” the pony laughed softly. “You know you shouldn’t lie to your doctor.”

“When did you become a doctor?” Loopy asked. She raised her head up to smile at the pony massaging her back. “I didn’t think you went to college, Star Thistle.”

The yellow earth pony had her shaggy mane up in a loose bun held together with chopsticks. She snorted and returned the smile. “I’ll have you know the Guild of Buskers, Entertainers, and Escorts is well-known for sponsoring members in higher education.”

“Of course,” Loopy conceded. “Teleportation is a difficult spell to learn. The Escorts need the continuing education credits to keep their licenses, after all.”

“Exactly,” Star Thistle agreed.

They were in a small, private room. The curtains and beads and potted plants and paper screens were arranged in a way that the masseuse had claimed was some kind of ancient kirin tradition of luck and the flow of energy, but Loopy was sure it was more to disguise the fact they were in a cheap hotel.

“This wing is really messed up,” Star Thistle noted, as she stretched it out. Loopy winced as the mare tugged on it. “Some of the veins are broken.”

“Yeah,” Loopy agreed, the pain growing as Thistle rubbed it, trying to smooth it out. “I had a run-in with a few thousand tons of concrete.”

“And then came right here?” Star Thistle asked.

“Well…”

“Or did you wait for days with a broken wing like it was going to get better on its own?” Thistle continued, obviously already knowing the answer. “You’re tough, but you’re not that tough. If you abuse your body too much, it isn’t going to heal.”

“I know,” Loopy muttered.

Star Thistle sighed and hugged her from behind, careful not to pin Loopy’s damaged wing between them.

“I worry about you,” she whispered. “You remember when we first met? You were lost, starving, and about two-thirds of the way to going feral.”

Loopy groaned. Star Thistle had one of the most powerful auras she’d ever felt in a pony. It was a shroud of universal love and acceptance that had been practically blinding in its radiance when they’d run into each other for the first time. Loopy had been barely conscious, and Star Thistle had been the only pony that didn’t pretend the changeling didn’t exist. City ponies could be remarkably blind when it came to ponies in need - they’d literally stepped over her like she was trash on the street.

Most of them, anyway. Star Thistle had picked her up, carried her away, and nursed her back to health. All for a very reasonable finder’s fee. She was a professional, after all.

“Did I ever mention that you’re basically my best friend?” Loopy muttered.

“Mm. I can sense you’re making more friends, though,” Star Thistle said. She smiled. “It’s all over your personal energy.”

“Sure, personal energy,” Loopy said, dismissively.

“And I can tell you got a new job.”

Loopy paused. “Really? How can you tell? Is it because I don’t smell like coffee? Or--”

“Because you paid your tab in full when you walked in,” Star Thistle interrupted. “I’m not psychic, Loop d’Loop. I’m just in tune with the universe, and the universe tells me that you wouldn’t have that kind of spending money if you were still working in a cafe.”

“It seems like cheating to use logic.”

“I’ll pretend it came to me in a dream next time.”

“If you say that I’ll be worried Princess Luna is spying on me!” Loopy complained.

Star Thistle laughed and let go, getting up. “She's retired! I think she's got better things to do than spy on ponies like you. Does your wing feel any better now?”

“Hm?” Loopy tried moving it experimentally. “Oh hey, that’s much better!” She buzzed it faster.

“Good. If I actually knew anything about changelings I’d probably tell you that you need to molt to heal it the rest of the way and fix all these scratches on your chitin, but like you said, I’m not a doctor.”

“I’m getting too old to just molt on demand,” Loopy groaned.

“Oh! Maybe this’ll help!” Star Thistle got up and rummaged around a paper screen. Loopy sat up to look, curious. The earth pony returned with a small jar.

“What’s that?” Loopy asked.

“It’s skin cream,” Star Thistle said. “We’re supposed to be giving out free samples anyway, and it’s full of minerals and other healthy… stuff. It’s supposed to reduce wrinkles and make you look younger.”

“You realize I can look any age I want, right?” Loopy asked.

“Just try it, and if it doesn’t help buff out the scratches, give it to a friend,” Star Thistle sighed.

There was a knock on the door. Star Thistle put the jar in Loopy’s hooves and walked over, pausing at the door to make sure Loopy had time to get into her disguise. Once she was safely looking like a pony instead of a midnight-black chitinous horror, Thistle opened the door.

A pony ran in, weeping, grabbing Star Thistle and hugging her like she was a life preserver and she was lost at sea. The wave of fear and sorrow coming off the weeping mare was enough to make Loopy flinch, as intense as a thunderclap of emotion going off right in front of her.

“I don’t know what to do, Thistle! He’s gone!” the white unicorn mare wailed. “He’s gone!”

“Who’s gone, Sweetclover?” Star Thistle asked. She helped the mare over to the bed and sat her down. Loopy shut the door behind them, but didn’t leave. Something told her she needed to stick around.

“My son,” Sweetclover whispered, on the edge of breaking down and being unable to speak. “H-he didn’t come home for the holidays, and I thought it was just b-because he was mad at me for sending him to the boarding school, but when I went down there with a present a-and I was going to apologize and try to talk to him, he wasn’t there!”

“Did he run away?” Star Thistle asked.

Sweetclover sobbed. “They said he wasn’t a student there! They wouldn’t even talk to me! They tried to have me arrested because I didn’t want to leave without seeing him! Even the police won’t listen to me! They all think I’m crazy!”

Loopy frowned. She brushed herself off. “Which school was this?” she asked.

“Miss Sweetclover said her son, Sweet Potato, went missing from Mountain Laurel Boarding School,” Loopy said. “I was able to get a picture.”

She gave Bon-Bon the photo. Sweetclover looked happy, but exhausted, with bags under her eyes and a teenaged pony standing next to her who had an obvious family resemblance along with some of the usual signs of rebellion at that age - a filthy shirt for some local band, badly dyed streaks in his pale mane, and a look on his face that said he didn’t care about anything.

“She sent him to a boarding school because she worked long hours and she didn’t want him to be unsupervised that whole time,” Loopy said. “She didn’t say it exactly, but I think he was sort of a problem child.”

“Everypony is a problem child at that age,” Bon-Bon muttered. “And the police won’t look into it at all?”

“They wouldn’t let her make a report. When she tried to get help, they trespassed her and told her she’d be arrested if she came back,” Loopy said.

“Hey, does this cream have aloe in it?” Lyra asked, holding up the pot of skin cream. “It really smells funny.”

“Worried that you’re going to get wrinkles before your classmates?” Bon-Bon asked.

“I’m not jealous about any hypothetically immortal classmates,” Lyra mumbled, putting the pot of cream down and blushing.

“So what are we going to do about this?” Loopy asked, interrupting them. “That mare was completely broken. I can’t just leave her hanging.”

Bon-Bon sighed. “It’s going to be difficult to find much. The problem is, records on foals are protected by law, even from official inquiry. I’d need to get a court order to make the school cooperate…”

“...And if they’re hiding something, they’ll fight it as much as possible,” Loopy guessed.

Bon-Bon nodded. “And if the Seasaddle Police Department doesn’t want to open a case, breaking in is going to end really poorly for us.”

Loopy huffed, folding her hooves. “That sounds like you want to give up on a missing foal.”

“We just need to figure out the right way to approach it,” Bon-Bon said. “It’s not like we have anypony on the inside we can talk to.”

“A pony on the inside, huh?” Loopy asked, smiling.

“Remember, be on your best behavior,” Bon-Bon said.

“Do you have to--” Loopy groaned. Bon-Bon hugged her. Loopy couldn’t stop herself from blushing. She tried to push the earth pony away, but she had a couple of inches on her at the moment.

“Are you sure you can keep that disguise up?” Bon-Bon whispered. “I thought changing size was difficult for you.”

“I just got a fill-up,” Loopy hissed back. “Are you sure your paperwork is good enough to keep them from figuring out I’m older than half the teachers?”

Bon-Bon pulled back and put her hooves on her hips. “Young lady, I’ll have you know I’m a professional. I know you’re worried about being on your own, but you need discipline. I better not hear about you getting into trouble!”

“Yes, Mom,” Loopy groaned.

“Now, here comes one of your new teachers. Greet them properly.”

Loopy turned and looked up at the pony walking out of the school. She had a very similar look to the building itself, blocky and humorless and made entirely out of grey stone, at least emotionally. She looked down at Loopy like she was a particularly distasteful mess on the sidewalk that she had been asked to clean up.

“Hello, ma’am,” Loopy said. “I’m Buttercup Cream.” She held out a hoof to shake.

The mare ignored the hoof. “You will refer to me as Miss Coal, not ‘Ma’am’,” she snapped.

Loopy raised an eyebrow. “Okay.”

Bon-Bon cleared her throat.

Loopy rolled her eyes. “Okay, Miss Coal.”

“I can see this one will need extra discipline,” Miss Coal said. “Don’t worry. We specialize in teaching young troublemakers exactly where they fit into society. Foals need to be molded into useful members of society.”

“Thank you for taking her in this late in the school year,” Bon-Bon said.

“Of course. Now, I find it’s best not to drag things out or else foals get too attached to their parents. As long as she remains on good behavior she’ll be allowed to write to you once a week. At the end of the school year we will send you a report on her behavior. Hopefully we will not need any other reports until then.”

Bon-Bon nodded. “Right. Thanks again.”

Miss Coal put a hoof on Loopy’s shoulder and forcibly turned her, pushing her towards the doors.

“Oh I can tell this is going to be fun,” Loopy mumbled.

Loopy had never been to an actual school. Changelings didn’t really do the classroom thing and she’d always mimicked an adult before. She was quickly learning two very important things - one, classrooms had a lot of unspoken rules that she was expected to have absorbed by the time she was a teenager, and two, she had some really significant gaps in her education.

Right now both of those were coming to a head. She was standing up in front of the class, staring at a chalkboard.

“Is there a problem?” the teacher asked. She had a ruler for a cutie mark, a ruler in her hoof, and a face with so many sharp angles it also could have been made out of wood.

Loopy hesitated. She didn’t want to admit she didn’t know what to do. She was really an adult. The math on the board was for foals. It should have been easy for her. It was about the area of a circle, and a circle was the easiest shape, right? She could reason this out.

“No, no, I can do this,” Loopy said. “Uh…”

She hesitated. Why were there letters and numbers? Math wasn’t supposed to have letters! But with common sense, she could work it out.

“Seventeen?” Loopy guessed.

“Maybe you need to be in a less advanced class,” the teacher sighed. “Go back to your seat.”

Loopy had never felt humiliation in the same way she did walking back to her seat, foals looking at her like she was an idiot.

“What’s pie got to do with it anyway?” she mumbled.

“Repeat the question?” Loopy asked.

The teacher sighed. He was a stallion that looked more like a prison guard than an educator, with the same attitude towards the ponies under his care. “Miss Buttercup Cream, I do not like repeating myself.”

“And I don’t like not hearing questions,” Loopy said.

The stallion frowned. “Don’t talk back to me. You get smart with me, you’re going to regret it.”

“I regret a lot of things,” Loopy admitted. “Please, repeat the question. I know you want to move on, and I want to at least try to answer it.”

“I asked you for the name of the pony that designed Equestria’s national flag,” the stallion said.

Loopy hissed through her teeth. “The current flag?”

“It hasn’t changed in almost twelve centuries. Yes, the current flag!”

“I have no idea,” Loopy shrugged. “Probably somepony with ‘flag’ or ‘banner’ in their name. It always works out like that. Anyway, shouldn’t you be telling me? If I already knew I wouldn’t have to be in school.”

The stallion gave her a flat look. “Detention.”

“What’s detention?”

“I hate detention,” Loopy huffed. “Why do I have to write the same thing a hundred times? What’s that going to teach me?”

She scribbled another line down on the paper. She was somewhere between forty and fifty and had totally lost count, largely because she didn’t care about her special assignment of writing ‘I will not talk back to my teachers, who are smarter than I am’ a hundred times in a row.

“It’s supposed to teach you not to get in trouble,” the student next to her whispered. “You shouldn’t make the teachers angry.” She looked up to the front of the room and the teacher there, who was doing some kind of paperwork. When the teacher looked up, the other student looked away, obviously terrified to meet her gaze.

“Why?” Loopy frowned.

“...Because we’re only kids, and they’re grown-ups, so they can do anything they want,” the filly said. “Don’t talk so loud or else--”

“No talking in detention!” the teacher at the front of the room snapped. “Next student to speak is missing dinner!”

Loopy sighed, staring up at the ceiling. Once classes were over, they’d been herded into dorms like criminals being returned to their cells for the night. The lights had been shut off, and the doors were locked like they’d try to escape.

“I don’t like school,” she mumbled. She’d learned one thing already. She was glad she’d never gone to Equestrian schools for real if they were all like this. It was almost as bad as the hive had been, in the bad old days. Older changelings shoving ponies around, constant hunger, watching each other for weaknesses, and that constant threat that the Queen might notice you for the wrong reasons.

“Hey,” whispered another pony.

Loopy sat up to see the pony that had been in detention with her. She waved from her bunk, leaning over the side.

“Your name is Buttercup Cream, right?” she asked. “Sorry about dinner.”

“It’s fine,” Loopy promised her. “I wasn’t very hungry anyway.”

“I’m Pastel Palette,” she said. “I just want to warn you, you really don’t want to get into too much trouble.”

“Why? I’m not all that impressed by detention, and it seems like a lot of students end up there.”

“The teachers like to punish students for anything they can,” Pastel said. “As long as we’re in trouble it means they can treat us however they want. Even when they let us write home or talk to our parents, we’re not allowed to tell them what this place is like.”

“Yeah well, that’s not going to fly with me,” Loopy said. “What are they gonna do if I just won’t cooperate? Tell my parents I’m too much trouble? Keep me from ever having dinner again?”

Pastel shook her head. Loopy could feel the fear coming off of her. “If you cause too much trouble, they’ll take you away to the special classes.”

“Special classes,” Loopy repeated. “What, more of that stupid math with letters in it?”

Pastel didn’t laugh at the joke. “When students go to the special classes, they usually don’t come back. I don’t want anypony else to end up disappearing like that.”

Loopy hesitated. “Do you know a pony named Sweet Potato?”

“Why? Were you one of his friends?”

“Something like that.” Loopy didn’t like the past tense Pastel Palette had used.

Pastel’s ears dipped. She looked down. “I’m sorry. He kept causing trouble, and he just wouldn’t listen. He got taken away two weeks ago. You should just give up on him, and keep your head down, and try to get through it.”

A shadow passed by the door, and Pastel threw herself into bed, pretending to be asleep.

Loopy kept staring at the ceiling. “Sounds like I need to get myself into these special classes,” she whispered.

Foal's Play, Part 2

Mountain Laurel Boarding School was one of the most depressing places Loopy had been in her entire life, and she’d spent her actual childhood growing up with literal love-sucking monsters. She’d found plenty of ways to get into a little trouble, largely by accident, but getting into enough trouble to be disappeared was proving difficult. It didn’t help that the punishments she was given tended to be about throwing her in isolation and keeping her from getting into more trouble.

She’d just been released from solitary confinement (and having to write an essay about the First Griffonstone War) and was in math class again, her seat all the way at the front of the room. The teachers had apparently decided that maybe since she didn’t know anything, she’d somehow osmose information by proximity to the teacher.

“Pay attention!” the teacher snapped, slapping the ruler down on Loopy’s desk.

Loopy flinched and glared up at her. She smugly walked off, not bothering to look back. Loopy had seen the type too many times. She just enjoyed throwing her weight around with ponies who couldn’t fight back. It brought back bad memories.

“What’s this?!” the teacher snapped. “Are you doodling in my class when you should be working?!”

Pastel Palette yelped when the ruler came down on her fetlock, knocking the pencil out of her grip. The teacher grabbed the paper she’d been drawing on and crumpled it up, dropping it on the floor.

“Pick up that garbage!” she ordered, motioning with the ruler like a conductor’s baton. Pastel got out of her seat and knelt down to get the fallen pencil and crumpled paper. The ruler came up, and a grin worked its way onto the teacher’s face.

Loopy didn’t remember getting out of her seat but she was suddenly there, standing over Pastel and holding back the teacher with one hoof.

“What are--” the teacher blinked in surprise, her expression betraying the fact that she had absolutely no idea how to even process a student defying her openly and physically. It was like a daisy sandwich biting back. It couldn’t happen.

“Don’t you dare,” Loopy growled.

The teacher yanked her hoof back. Loopy didn’t just stand her ground. She pressed forward, forcing the teacher to step back out of the aisle of desks and back up almost to the blackboard.

“How dare you--” the teacher started. She raised her ruler again like a sword and swung at Loopy in blind rage.

Loopy grabbed her elbow, kicked at her back legs, and twisted. She’d never had a lot of actual combat training, but compared to a schoolteacher who’d never had to think about her victims fighting back? Even in the body of a filly earth pony, she was unbeatable. The teacher made a sound of dull surprise as she flipped over Loopy’s shoulder and into the door, crashing through it hard enough to snap the hinges and leave her in the hallway.

The class gasped collectively.

Loopy turned to the foals and shrugged. “So anyway, anypony have the answer to question four? I can’t figure out those exponent things.”

“She’s a menace!” one of the teachers said. They’d had to get a few of them together to decide what to do with Loopy. The bulky history teacher, who’d probably been a professional at some sport before he turned too old to run around on a field and catch a ball, was sitting right behind her as if he could keep her from escaping.

Loopy was content, for the moment, to let him think he could do that.

“Miss Meter has a broken leg and snout and won’t be able to teach for a week,” the speaking teacher continued. They had a close-cropped mane and tight clothing and were so thin that it was like everything unneeded had been stripped away from them and left only a skeleton, skin, and a cheap suit.

Loopy didn’t have any classes with them, but apparently, they knew all about her by reputation. Miss Coal sat behind her desk and glared at Loopy with what she probably thought was an impressively intimidating gaze.

“Funny how she tripped like that,” Loopy said. “Maybe she’ll learn a valuable lesson about trying to hit foals.”

“She did not trip!” the pacing teacher turned to glare down at Loopy. “Do you know who I am?”

Loopy narrowed her eyes. “I’m having problems even telling if you’re a mare or stallion. I’ll guess stallion since you’ve got that cheap tie. Have you thought about telling your teachers not to assault foals?”

“Corporal punishment is good for foals, it teaches them not to make the same mistake twice,” the thin pony hissed. “And you’ve more than earned some for yourself.”

Loopy tilted her head, glancing back at the big teacher right behind her. “And you think it’s going to take three of you to spank a filly?”

“Her mother is nopony important,” Miss Coal noted. “We can’t have this one going around and fostering rebellion. She needs to be tamed. Broken.”

“We’ve got just the place for that,” the thin pony said. “I want her taken down to the special punishment area. Fifty demerits.”

“Yes, Principal Withers,” the big stallion behind Loopy grumbled.

“Special punishment, huh?” Loopy asked. “What, am I going to have to write two essays this time?”

“It will be a way for you to work off some of that rebellious energy of yours and contribute to society,” Principal Withers said. “Soon you’ll be begging to come back to school and thanking Miss Meter for correcting you.”

Loopy looked at the shackles they’d put on her. Hoofcuffs wasn’t quite the right word for the heavy cast-iron antiques they were using. She’d been thrown in them and then shoved into a freight elevator in the school’s basement. As she rode it down with the teacher they’d assigned to ‘keep her in line’, she heard the sound of massive motors.

“This is below the subway,” she realized, when her ears popped.

“I didn’t say you could talk!” the stallion snapped. Loopy gave him a look. He was feeling brave because she was in cuffs.

The elevator entered a massive open space. It took Loopy a moment to get the scale right in her head with no landmarks. It was a circular cavern the size of a city block, ramps leading down from an outer ring into a crater of broken rock and ponies working with manual tools to break rock and carve out tunnels leading deeper inside. The center of the crater was flooded, with massive pumps keeping the mine from flooding and filling the echoing chamber with a dull thrum.

“That must be why the subway is dry,” Loopy whispered, her voice inaudible over the constant white noise. “The water all leaks down here and gets pumped out…”

“End of the line!” The big stallion shoved her from behind, pushing her into the doors a moment before they opened and making her bump her snout into them. She glared back at him.

“What’s your name?” She asked.

“Pitch Lateral, but you call me Sir, you understand?” he growled. “You’re in more trouble than you know. Fifty demerits. That’s gonna take longer to work off than you can imagine. Principal Withers doesn’t like you much.”

“I’m terrified,” Loopy said flatly. She looked around the cavern while Pitch lead her towards some of the ponies standing along the rim. They were the only ones that didn’t look busy, and it became obvious why - they were guards, not miners. She could see at a glance that somepony had put millions, maybe tens of millions, into this mine.

“New one for you,” Pitch declared. “Fifty.”

“Fifty?” the guards whistled. “Hope she didn’t like seeing the sun.”

“Get her working,” Pitch said. “I’m checking in with the foremare and getting her signed over.” Pitch shoved her into the guards and walked away towards a shack set up near the elevator.

“Come on, kid,” one of the guards said. “Look, I don’t know what you did to make ponies angry, but you keep your bucking snout clean here or you’ll regret it.”

“Hey, I’m not the one trying to run a mine with child labor,” Loopy countered. “It seems pointlessly mean and inefficient. Why wouldn’t you have adults do it? It’s got to be easier than abducting foals, and they can work harder--”

“It’s cause you kids ain’t got cutie marks yet,” the guard said. Loopy looked up at him in surprise. “What? You thought because I’m a professional thug I didn’t ask that kind of stuff too? The stuff that gets pulled out of this mine is some kinda magic ore. They don’t want ponies with cutie marks touching it so you kids get to do the fun work.”

“I wasn’t expecting a straight answer,” Loopy admitted. The guard shoved her towards a group of other kids and grabbed a link of the chain, connecting it to her shackles as part of a line of mining foals.

“Welcome to your new class,” the guard said. “Good bucking luck, kid.” He trotted away, laughing.

“I don’t think I like him much,” Loopy muttered. She turned to the filly chained up next in line to her. “So, this is my first day, I’ve already seen the chains, so you can just show me the ropes.”

She paused. The filly looked ragged, like she hadn’t seen the inside of a shower in a month, and the joke had gone right over her head. Or, more likely, the humor had just been beaten out of her.

“We have to dig up the right kind of rocks,” the filly said. She couldn’t have been older than ten or eleven. “If we get enough, they take away a demerit. If we don’t find enough, we get more demerits. When you don’t have any demerits left you get to go home.”

“What kind of rocks do they want?” Loopy asked.

“I found one!” One of the other foals said. The filly looked up and pointed. A colt was holding up a stone the size of his hoof. It was one of the strangest things Loopy had ever seen, like if bismuth and amethyst had a glowing rock baby. He put the segmented, violet stone in a bucket and took it to one of the guards.

“We’re lucky,” the filly said. “That was a big one. We might get enough of them to meet the quota today.”

Loopy frowned. “How long have you been here?”

“I don’t know,” the filly whispered. “I just want to get out of here and see my mom again…”

“I promise you will,” Loopy said. “Do you know a pony named Sweet Potato?”

The filly nodded and pointed to one of the older colts on the line. Instead of working like the others, he was sitting down, looking thin and exhausted. “He’s really sick. You shouldn’t get too close to him.”

“Thanks,” Loopy said. She walked over, careful not to trip on the chains or tangle the other foals. “Sweet Potato?”

The colt raised his head. He had bags under his eyes and seemed like he was barely conscious.

“W-who are you?” he whispered.

“I’m the pony that’s here to get you and all these other foals out of this dungeon,” Loopy said. “Your mom sent me here to find you.”

“My mom? But she’s the one who left me here! She doesn’t even care what happens to me!” He tried to yell, but just ended up coughing and gasping for breath.

“She’s been trying to find you, but the school says you don’t exist and the police refuse to investigate.”

“How do you know all that?” Sweet Potato asked.

“I’m a friend of a friend,” Loopy said. “Normally I’d try and come up with some kind of clever way to get all of you out of here. Maybe break one of the pumps and sneak you out of the pipes. That’d be a pretty dramatic prison break.”

She shifted her ankles to be smaller, green fire flickering around her hooves. She stepped out of the shackles.

“But you know what? I’m really getting angry about all these ponies hurting you kids. Instead of being clever, I think I’m just going to find a healthy way to work out my emotions and beat them until they can’t walk.”

Loopy stretched and walked up to the nearest guard. He was looking the other way, so she tapped him on the flank.

“Huh?” he turned, confused. “How did you get--”

Loopy grabbed the baton out of his hooves and cracked it into his face. He fell to the ground, a few of his teeth beating the rest of him to the stone floor. She pulled the keys off the belt he was wearing and tossed it back to the filly she’d been next to.

“Get everypony free,” Loopy ordered. “Pass the keys to the next line of ponies once you’re done. If a pony can’t walk, get somepony else to help them.”

The filly froze, holding the keys and not moving.

Loopy sensed the guard behind her and grabbed a rock from the ground, spinning it and throwing with one smooth motion, catching him between the eyes and dropping him instantly.

“It’s going to be okay,” Loopy promised. Her body flashed with lime fire and she grew wings. The filly’s eyes went wide, like she was looking at a Princess. “You’ll see your mom soon. Just help everypony else while I clear the way, okay?”

The filly nodded quickly and got to work, unlocking shackles and getting ponies moving.

Loopy nodded and spread her wings, flying out of the crater and swooping down on one of the guards, slamming into the unicorn from above when she saw his horn start to spark. A second guard came after her, and she ducked and swept his leg, throwing him over the edge to fall about two stories straight down onto the uneven stone.

“Hey!” a pony yelled. Loopy turned to see Pitch stalking out of the small shed, followed by a pony in a hard hat. “How did you get loose?!”

He got close enough to see Loopy’s wings and paused in total confusion.

“Is that the foremare?” Loopy asked, pointing behind him. “I really want to have a word with her about safety. I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to have clearly marked railings and warning signs near a drop like this.”

“What the buck kind of troublemaker did you bring down here?” the foremare yelled. She grabbed a sledgehammer and tossed it to Pitch, picking up a wrench. “Go break her legs! She can dig with her bucking fat mouth!”

Pitch hefted the sledge and stormed towards Loopy.

“This is gonna hurt you more than it hurts me,” he said.

“Oh, I really doubt that,” Loopy said. She charged and jumped over his clumsy swing. He turned at the same time the foremare tried to hit Loopy. She ducked low and Pitch took a wrench to the chin. “Wow, maybe you should wear a hard hat like your friend here?”

Pitch growled and lifted the hammer high, bringing it straight down. Loopy braced herself and caught it.

“Sorry. I’m just full of energy today,” she said, yanking the sledge out of his hooves and tossing it straight back into the Foremare’s chest, knocking her to the ground.

“I’m going to--” Pitch groused through his broken jaw. Before he could even come up with a decent threat, Loopy had him, getting onto his back and wrapping her hooves around his neck and squeezing hard enough to make his eyes bulge.

“Let’s talk about who you work for,” she whispered into his ear.

Loopy stayed back, watching Sweetclover hug her son from a distance. The mare couldn’t stop crying at the state of her son, and Loopy couldn’t blame her. A lot of the foals who had been working in the mine would need a long time to recover.

Police had surrounded the building once Loopy had gotten word to Bon-Bon and Lyra. A few of the teachers had fled and were at large, but the important thing was that the foals were free. Or at least as free as they could be. Bon-Bon was filling out what was turning into a huge stack of papers, trying to get names.

The police were mostly trying to keep the press back. It was turning into a mess, not least because they were being forced to answer questions about how all this could happen under their noses. Loopy was sure she’d made some enemies.

“Why wasn’t this uncovered sooner?” Loopy asked. “Some of those foals were down there for months. Months! And even the ones topside knew something was wrong.”

“A lot of their parents just didn’t care where they went,” Star Thistle sighed. “They’re not all good mothers like Sweetclover.” She put a hoof on Loopy’s back and rubbed slowly. “Thank you so much for helping her.”

Loopy shrugged. “I had to. I could feel how much she was hurting.” She looked at the other fillies and colts, lined up and waiting to be interviewed. There were a few other parents, but far fewer than there were foals.

“Some of the parents probably aren’t coming,” Star Thistle said quietly, not wanting any of the foals to overhear. “More than a few were just abandoned here. Some ponies couldn’t afford to raise their kids and tried to put them somewhere they thought was safe, but others…”

“Others just wanted them gone and didn’t care,” Loopy said. “Yeah. I know what it’s like to be thrown to the wolves and left to raise yourself.”

“You turned out okay,” Star Thistle said. “They might, too.”

“I hope so,” Loopy said. “I know how they feel. Growing up, all I ever wanted was to be loved. Just because they don’t get hungry for it doesn’t mean they don’t need it.”

Chrome Buster, Part 1

Principal Withers swallowed, trying to see anything in the dark warehouse.

“Hello?” he called out, his voice that stage-whisper that came out when a pony was torn between trying to catch somepony’s attention and trying to remain hidden. “I-is this the right place? I was given an address, and the door was open…”

He trailed off to silence, staring at the shadows around him.

“I really hope this isn’t the wrong warehouse,” Withers whispered.

“Mister Withers, thank you for coming to this meeting,” said a pony right behind him. Withers jerked forward, tripping over something in the gloom that squeaked and ran away before he could think too much about it. Withers crawled a few paces in blind panic before managing to get up.

“When--” he gasped, turning to look.

“Please calm down,” the pony said.

Withers relaxed when he saw the face, even if it was through a tablet screen.

“I’m sorry I can’t be there myself, but I have to keep up appearances,” the pony apologized.

Withers glanced up at the silent form holding up the tablet. They were a massive pony, a head taller than he was, and heavily muscled. A long black trenchcoat concealed their form, along with a hat pulled low to obscure their features. He dismissed them as one of his employer’s thugs. The pony paying him certainly had enough of them around.

“You managed to avoid the police,” the pony noted. “That’s good. You were the only one at the school who knew about my investment. The Etherite was being shipped to shell companies and I’ve managed to tie up those loose ends nicely.”

“It was close,” Withers sighed. “If you hadn’t warned me I would have been caught along with the rest.”

“It was close,” the pony agreed. “So close that a lot of the Etherite never got shipped at all. So close you didn’t have time to purge all the records. I told you to burn everything.”

“There’s nothing there to tie it to you!” Withers promised.

“I know,” the telecommuting pony agreed. “I’m very cross about the Etherite shipment, though. It was seized by the police and it’s being transferred to the government. Do you know how bad that is, Mister Withers?”

“It… it’s going to be difficult to get it back?” he guessed.

“If it isn’t tainted. If they don’t figure out what I want it for. If it isn’t destroyed because somepony has more fear than common sense.” The pony sighed and shook their head. “At least I can clear up things at the school and make sure nopony knows I was involved.”

“It’s already cleared up,” Withers said. “The only pony that knows anything is…”

He swallowed, dread crawling down his spine.

“Is me,” he finished.

“Goodbye, Mister Withers,” the pony said. The tablet went black. Things went black for Withers a moment later.

“I feel like a celebrity,” Mare Do Well said, as they stepped out of the limo.

Bon-Bon nodded. “It’s pretty unusual for us, too.”

“Really?” Lyra grinned. “This is what I always thought being a secret agent was like. Put on your nicest suit, drive in a limo, now I just need a martini and it’ll be perfect!”

“It’s a little early for a martini, but I think I could get a mimosa if you’d like,” said the mare there to greet them. “Welcome to PrinTecca. Or back to PrinTecca, really. You’ve been here before, and we’re all grateful for that.”

“You must be Doctor Kaiser Roll,” Mare Do Well said, shaking her offered hoof. The mare felt genuinely pleased to see them. “It’s nice to meet you. We got your invitation, obviously.”

“Please, you can just call me Roll,” the mare said. She was the orange-red of ripe grapefruit, her mane pink light enough it was almost white. Loopy glanced at the dress she was wearing under her tailored lab coat.

“You’re making me feel under-dressed,” Mare Do Well said. “That’s not from off the rack.”

Roll chuckled. “It’s a special occasion, so I thought it was best to wear my best.” She shook Lyra and Bon-Bon’s hooves. “Don’t worry, it isn’t a black-tie event. Why don’t you follow me in and I’ll show you what we’ve been working on?”

They trotted inside. The PrinTecca building was, just like before, a facade of fine marble and gilding over the utilitarian labs and modern construction in places where they didn’t need to impress investors with a first impression.

“After the accident, we started thinking about our next steps. We lost a lot of progress on the project we’d been putting together-- actually, I’m not sure, were you aware of what was in the lab that was destroyed?”

“Not really,” Mare Do Well said. “Sorry. I’m not very technical, and I was distracted pretty badly while I was in there.”

Doctor Roll nodded. “Understandable. From what we’ve heard about the pony you fought, you’re lucky to be alive. You being here minimized the damage she did and probably saved us millions of bits.”

She led them back through the labs, and Mare Do Well felt like a VIP getting the big tour. They caught glimpses of labs and fabrication equipment and meeting rooms.

“What we’d been working on was the next big thing - synthetic ponies.” Doctor Roll grinned and stopped in front of a window set into a wall. The lab on the other side was obviously set up just for stops like this, with a headless, pony-shaped frame walking on a treadmill while scientists took notes.

“Why?” Lyra asked. “Wouldn’t a simpler design be easier to produce?”

“The simple answer is that Equestria doesn’t have a lot of infrastructure,” Doctor Roll said. “It would be easier to make a machine that was just a box on wheels, but they have trouble outside of a very controlled environment. Think about just walking in here. You had to exit a vehicle, navigate into a building, go up a few stairs, and so on. That’s without opening doors or interacting with anypony. A box on wheels would get stuck at the first set of stairs it found, and it would need a way to open a closed door, and to do anything useful it would need to have a way to operate tools, and so on and so on.”

“Is it really that hard?” Bon-Bon asked. “How does making it pony-shaped help?”

“Everything is already designed for ponies to use,” Doctor Roll explained. “It’s hard for a box on wheels to get out of a limousine or open a door, but they’re designed for ponies to use. If your machine is pony-shaped, it’s equipped to navigate those problems by default. If it needs to use a tool, every tool we’ve ever made is already designed for a pony’s hooves.”

“So a synthetic pony like you’re designing doesn’t need anything special in the environment,” Mare Do Well said.

“Exactly,” Doctor Roll said. “Unfortunately, most of our prototypes were destroyed. We’ll rebuild, better than before, but we wanted to do something useful with what we could salvage, and there was just enough left for this!”

She dramatically opened a door to a brightly-lit room somewhere between a theatre and a meeting room, even if it had been dressed up as a lab. Ponies in suits stood waiting anxiously, watching them enter. At Doctor Roll’s nod, the curtain was pulled back from the stage.

It could have almost been a pony in full-body armor painted Canterlot white and detailed in blue and gold. Its head was held high, but the face was a blank canvas, an art-deco shape between a hoofball and the front of a train made out of smooth black glass, too tight to be a helmet. Lights flickered on, and lines of neon picked out two crude eyes and a smile on the glass surface.

“Greetings,” the machine said, raising a hoof in a salute. Its voice sounded like two or three ponies speaking at the same time to make a chord, a single note as long as a pony wasn’t paying too much attention but definitely artificial. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“Meet Steel Braver,” Doctor Roll said. “He’s been optimized and tuned for extreme situations and bursts of power.”

“It’s… nice to meet you?” Mare Do Well said, unsure of what she was supposed to do.

“We want to give back to the city, and this is the way we can do it,” the Doctor explained. “I’d like to ask you to train him.”

“Train him?”

Steel Braver put his hoof down. “I have been programmed to be a hero, but I know I have a lot to learn. It would be an honor to work with you and learn what you know.”

Doctor Roll grinned. “How about we get a few pictures for the press release?”

“It’s a very nice facility,” Steel Braver said, looking around the repurposed subway platform. “I particularly like all the merchandise you have of yourself.”

“Those aren’t mine,” Loopy said. “I’m not that vain.”

“Oh.” Steel Braver was quiet for a moment. “I hope I get merchandise someday! Would you like me to clean up? I am programmed to be a hero, but my base design was for a public servant and I am fully equipped for simple manual labor.”

“Sure,” Loopy said. “And can you turn off your ears for a little while? I need to talk with these two in private.”

“Don’t worry,” Steel Braver said. He saluted. “I’ll be out of the way until you need me.” He lightly trotted off, hooves clanking on the concrete.

“Okay, so, explain to me again why this is a good idea,” Loopy whispered, turning to Bon-Bon and Lyra. “This is a secret lair!”

“It’s not that secret,” Bon-Bon reminded her. “It’s in the public record. Besides, what else were we supposed to do?”

“We could have told them no,” Loopy said.

“Aw, come on,” Lyra said. “He’s cute!”

“He’s a machine with a screen for a face.”

“I know!” Lyra giggled. “It makes me want to hug him.”

“I was kind of expecting a synthetic pony to look just like a regular pony,” Loopy said. “But he’s definitely a machine. I guess that crazy guy from a while back was almost right about them, but he got the details wrong. I think ponies would notice if Steel Braver put on a wig and pretended to be a pop star.”

“Making something look like a living pony isn’t as easy as you think,” Lyra said. “You’re just biased because it’s easy for you to do it to yourself.”

Loopy nodded a little. “Maybe you’re right.”

“The important thing is, we need to keep it where we can see it,” Bon-Bon cut in. “I’m not sure PrinTecca is telling us the whole story. If there’s something wrong, or some kind of scam, I want it close enough that we can do something about it.”

Loopy shrugged. “I think I understand.”

“And if it really can help?” Bon-Bon shrugged. “We can use it. Even if all it does is walk around and sweep, I won’t say no to a janitor.” She looked over to where the synth was cleaning. It had found a mop and bucket somewhere and was cleaning the floor very professionally.

“Fine. But what about tonight?” Loopy asked.

Lyra shrugged. “You’re just going to be escorting some boxes. It should be even easier than taking it on patrol. If something goes wrong, you won’t have civilians around that could get hurt.”

“Is there any chance PrinTecca knows what we’re doing and this is a setup?” Loopy asked quietly. “I mean we’re moving that weird stuff from the mine…”

“Etherite,” Bon-Bon said. “It’s a magical ore, from what I understand.”

“It’s really interesting stuff,” Lyra said. “Crystals naturally capture magic in their structure, but Etherite actually incorporates it. It has all sorts of uses, but usually, it’s only synthesized in the lab or found in tiny deposits.”

“I know, I know, it’s a fortune,” Loopy said. “Stop trying to tempt me to run off with it.”

“I’m not sure where you’d sell it,” Bon-Bon said. “There’s no market outside of science labs.”

“You mean like the science labs all over the city?”

Bon-Bon shrugged. “If you see ponies looking to buy a ton or two of magic spicy rocks, let me know. They’ll be our number one suspects for who was funding the school.”

Loopy snorted and walked over to Steel Braver, who was polishing one of the glass display cases. She tapped him on the shoulder and two fins on his head raised up like ears perking to attention.

“Hey, you ready to learn how to be a hero?” Loopy asked.

“Yes, Ma’am!” Steel Braver saluted. “Ready to follow orders.”

“Great. And can you show me where you found this stuff?” she pointed to the mop and bucket.

“In the janitor’s closet.”

“We have a janitor’s closet?!”

“So our goal is to ensure that these crates arrive safely at secure government storage?” Steel Braver confirmed, putting a hoof on one of the wooden boxes. The train was already in motion, gently moving down the track at ground level - the government hadn’t felt a need to invest in the elevated monorails yet. It was one less thing to go wrong tonight, so Loopy wasn’t going to complain.

“Yeah,” Mare Do Well said. “SMILE is a government organization, so we’re providing security. Because the police were involved in the cover-up of the mining operation, we can’t really trust them to do the job.”

“Oh.” Steel sounded sad about that. “That’s too bad. I was taught that the police are trustworthy ponies and that if I had any questions I should approach a uniformed officer to ask them for assistance. Is that not the case?”

“In general that’s good advice,” Mare Do Well said. “There are a couple of police officers I’m pretty sure I can trust. If you meet Officer Beeswax or Detective Arabica, they’re both really decent ponies and you can absolutely trust them. I just don’t know many of them well enough to say anything else.”

“I’ll remember those names,” Steel said. “Thank you.”

“Now, you remember what we do when we arrive?” Mare Do Well asked.

“We ensure the crates remain sealed when they are put into secure storage,” Steel Braver said. “And then we ensure the secure storage is sealed and locked before we leave.”

“Right,” Mare Do Well agreed. “It’s an easy job, but you’ll still want to be careful. We need to make sure all the crates get moved, that the workers don’t swap any crates around, that everything is really locked, and anything else we can think of that could go wrong.”

“It sounds like you don’t trust the ponies moving the crates. Shouldn’t you trust ponies until you have a reason not to do so?”

Loopy couldn’t keep a serious face at that. She broke down laughing and patted Steel Braver on the shoulder, holding on after a moment to keep her balance.

“Oh, oh wow,” she said, trying to hold back giggles. “You really are a good pony.”

“Technically I am a machine, but I greatly appreciate the sentiment.”

Something slammed into the top of the train. Mare Do Well and Steel Braver both looked up. Steel Braver’s ears started glowing.

“I’m detecting something large on top of the train,” Steel Braver said.

“Hero lesson number one,” Mare Do Well said. “Nothing ever goes the way you planned.”

A shower of sparks rained down as something started tearing through the train’s roof like a very hot knife through steel. It was much like a regular hot knife through butter but infinitely more dangerous.

Something big dropped through the roof, and Steel Braver pushed Mare Do Well back and out of the way of the hot metal and massive shape. Steam filled the cabin from rain hitting the hot metal, and a pony in a black trenchcoat stood up in the wreckage, taller and bulkier than Steel Braver.

The synth stepped forward. “Sir, you have broken into a secure area,” Steel said. “You are under arrest. Please lay down on the floor and we will place you into custody.”

The big pony turned and threw a punch. Steel Braver moved with the speed and precision of a well-oiled machine, which was the only reason he caught it instead of getting punched right in his glass face.

Steel was forced back, hooves squealing and raising sparks against the floor.

“He’s pretty strong, huh?” Mare Do Well asked. She jumped to the wall, then kicked off it to get more velocity when she hit the big pony’s face, knocking the fedora off his head. It felt like she’d kicked a solid block of lead, and she dropped to the floor, backing up and limping on her damaged hoof. “What the buck?”

“I do not believe this is a normal pony,” Steel Braver said.

The big pony had a steel bulkhead for a face, just blank metal in the rough shape of a pony’s head. Red light flashed out of a hidden seam, and it switched from pushing against Steel Braver to pulling, yanking him forward. The synth stumbled, and the bigger machine slammed its head forward, cracking the glass of Steel’s face and knocking him to the ground.

“Inferior,” it rumbled, its voice a bass-boosted buzz of electronic sound.

“Leave him alone!” Mare Do Well shouted, jumping at the bigger synth. Something moved under its coat, and the costumed hero buzzed to the side, barely avoiding a white-hot blade on the end of a chain launched out of the synth’s shoulder, right through the coat it was wearing.

It lanced through the air and punched into one of the wooden crates before snapping open like a bear trap, biting into the crate and pulling it towards the synth in the coat.

“You’ve got a few tricks,” Mare Do Well admitted. “So do I.”

She charged up a psychic blast and threw a wave of disorienting magic at the synth.

It waited a moment as if expecting something to happen. Nothing did.

“I guess that doesn’t work on thinking machines,” she said sheepishly.

The big synth grabbed part of the roof that had fallen around it and swung it like a bat at Mare Do Well, catching her on the side and hitting her into the far side of the train to land among less important cargo, smashing through crates like they were balsa wood.

“H-halt and sur-surrender,” Steel Braver stuttered, getting back up, the neon lines that made up its face flickering and distorting. The other synth ignored him, a chain launching into a second crate.

Steel Braver grabbed the crate, trying to yank it back. The bigger machine pulled harder, and the wood cracked, Etherite spilling all over the train car.

The big synth made a sound like a very angry engine turning over and kicked Steel Braver hard enough into the wall to dent both the metal hero and the train. Mare Do Well crawled out of the debris she was stuck in, and could only watch helplessly as the synth jumped out of the hole in the ceiling, a ton of steel and circuits leaping like it was weightless.

“Nothing ever seems to go as planned,” she muttered. “I hate being right.”

Chrome Buster, Part 2

Loopy felt like she was staring into a surgical theatre while she watched the engineer started in on Steel Braver’s face with a screwdriver. There was something about watching long bolts come out of a pony’s head that made her feel a little sick like she was thinking too much about where they’d be if they were in her own skull.

The good thing was, the mask kept anypony from seeing her look grossed out by something that should have been no more upsetting than a toaster being repaired.

“I don’t understand,” Doctor Roll said, watching intently through the window. “Another synthetic pony?”

“Yeah,” Loopy said. “It was a lot bigger and stronger than Steel, too. And it had built-in weapons. No offense, but I think they’re ahead of you in the design department.”

“Bigger and stronger is easy,” Roll sighed. “There are plenty of bigger, stronger machines. Steel isn’t going to lift as much as a dedicated forklift or punch as hard as a jackhammer. He’s not designed for that.”

“And the weapons?” Loopy asked.

“We don’t really do weapon design,” Doctor Roll admitted. “Integrating a weapon system wasn’t even on our roadmap for design improvements. Steel is designed to use anything a pony can use, so we always assumed we could get something off the shelf if needed.”

Loopy nodded. The cracked glass of his face was removed, revealing a cylinder of wires and blinking lights that the dark black display had hidden. The engineer quickly went over a few things, testing contacts and getting results from a small yellow box with blinking green and red lights. The engineer fixed a few loose wires, then pulled a new faceplate out of a cabinet and put it into place, Steel Braver giving him a neon smile when the display clicked into the slot.

“I wish I could get fixed that easily,” Loopy muttered. Her backplate had a long crack in it from the hit she’d taken on the train. Surprisingly, she’d found something to help with it - some skin cream she’d been recommended actually sealed chitin cracks pretty well, and she’d ended up using it as a poultice. It was also good for buffing out minor scratches.

“That’s one reason we designed Steel,” Roll said. “Too many ponies get hurt trying to do the right thing. Millions of bits spent on the project, and we’ve only got him to show for it. I’m proud of Steel, of course. But it’s still a large expense.”

“...Yes, it is,” Loopy agreed. The engineer in the other room started putting the screws back into Steel’s head to secure everything together now that he’d finished. She turned away, thinking. “And that other synth must have cost a lot, too.”

“No doubt about that.” Doctor Roll leaned against the wall. “It took more than just one team, as well. It’s not a project a pony can put together in his garage as a hobby. Steel Braver has one of the most advanced mobile computing systems ever made running his program. We outsourced a lot of the hardware design to another company.”

“Which company?” Loopy asked.

“And you think Doctor Auspex might have something to do with the strange synth you fought?” Lyra asked. She waited with Loopy while Bon-Bon filled out more papers. The guards weren’t happy about having Mare Do Well there. They were less happy about Steel Braver. Neither of them had a photo ID, and the synth didn’t even have a badge.

As it turned out, they couldn’t just walk into a prison and demand to see somepony, especially when they were still awaiting trial. Steel Braver stood next to them silently, listening. He hadn’t said much since the train.

Loopy nodded. “The mobile computing equipment she designed is the only part of the project that wasn’t something like… hydraulics or bodywork. The basic mechanics are simple enough -- no offense, Steel--”

“None taken,” he said. “I am glad you worry I might take offense, though. Thank you.”

“--but actually controlling them is tough. It’s the difference between a thinking machine and a clockwork toy that just walks in circles. Somepony had to get the other synth up and running. If she did it once, she could do it twice.”

Bon-Bon sighed, walking back from where she’d been speaking to the guards. “Okay, we’ve got a problem.”

“She’s not willing to cooperate?” Loopy guessed. “We did sort of break up her scam.”

“She’ll talk to us, but the prison rules say only two visitors at a time, and Auspex wants to see Steel Braver herself as one condition for the friendly chat. So only one of us gets to go in with him and talk.”

“Lyra, you’re up,” Loopy said.

“Huh? Why me? You’re the one who can sense lies!”

“And I don’t know the right questions to ask. You know the technical stuff better than I do.”

“She’s right,” Bon-Bon agreed. “Besides, she met you once before. She’s never seen Loopy in this disguise.”

“Okay, let’s do this,” Lyra sighed. She looked up at Steel Braver. “Ready to meet your maker?”

“One of them, at any rate,” Steel said. He motioned for Lyra to lead the way. “Ladies first.”

“Programmed to be a hero and a gentlestallion,” Lyra joked. The guards led them past the prison’s checkpoints, humorless stallions and mares watching them with suspicion. For once, almost none of it was directed at Loopy. Having a brightly-colored machine trotting along with them meant something else was drawing the eye more than a costumed hero.

They stopped them outside of a steel door.

“Auspex is inside,” the guard said. “Remember, only two of you go in. It’s a prison rule. If she gets violent or asks for her lawyer or decides she’s done, it’s over right then. Understood?”

Lyra nodded.

“We’ll be right outside if something happens,” Bon-Bon promised.

“Do not worry. I will not allow harm to come to you,” Steel Braver said.

“Thanks, big guy,” Lyra said.

The guard opened the door, and Lyra walked in with Steel Braver.

Doctor Auspex was sitting behind a steel table, wearing the standard prison uniform and hoofcuffs. She started to stand up to greet them on reflex and stopped when she caught the guard’s eye, settling back down into her seat.

“I’m not sure why they’re so cautious around me,” the mare said. “I’m not a violent criminal.”

“You did cause multiple disasters and millions of bits of property damage,” Lyra reminded her. “The guards are probably worried you’ll find a way to cause a tornado to put a real capstone on your legacy.”

“Ugh, my legacy,” Auspex groaned. “I wish you weren’t right. I had the best of intentions, though.”

“Well you can prove that by helping me,” Lyra said.

“I don’t want to help you,” Auspex said. “You ruined me. But I will help him.” She pointed to Steel Braver.

Steel pointed to himself, his neon expression flashing to a cartoon of a confused face.

“It’s good seeing you up and running. I only ever wanted to help ponies, but I didn’t think when I was putting together mobile processors that they’d end up in a hero. It was just supposed to be a quick way to make a few bits, but… I personally designed and forged the crystal transistors inside you. You’re practically like the foal I never had.”

“You built them personally?” Braver asked.

Auspex nodded, her expression serious. “The designs were too complex for mass production, so they had to be hoof-made one at a time. Eventually, industrial processes will catch up, but it will never match the unique touches a pony can only make doing things themselves. No two chips came out quite the same, after all.”

“Thank you, then,” Braver said. “We are seeking information. There was another synthetic pony, and we are attempting to determine the designer of the processors in order to track it down and stop it from committing crimes.”

“I made enough chips for a few of you, but from what I’m told, all the spares were destroyed,” Auspex said.

“This is the case,” Braver agreed.

Auspex sat back and thought. “No one from my team could have made more. All our spare capacity was being used putting Horoscope together while we were seeking funding. There’s nothing they could have used off the shelf… was the other unit physically larger?”

“Yes. How did you guess?”

Auspex snorted. “Because I’m the best at miniaturization. They probably had to make it bigger to fit in lower-quality parts. If they had some scrapped factory-seconds or just worked from my design notes, they might have managed something, but it won’t be very smart.”

“No?” Lyra raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“I never got around to writing down some of the minor breakthroughs I made. There’s no documentation of the final round of revisions.” Auspex smiled. “It might be bigger, but you’re more clever. Trust me, that’s going to get you far in life.”

“That was a total dead end,” Mare Do Well sighed, when they were outside in what little shelter they could find from the light rain. There weren’t a lot of businesses near the jail, possibly for obvious reasons, but somepony was trying to run a coffee shop even here, and the patrons inside pretended they were staring through the barred front windows at the strange ponies standing under the striped awning.

“Perhaps, but it was a lead that needed to be followed,” Steel Braver said.

Mare Do Well tilted her head. “You sound like you’re in a better mood.”

“I was concerned after the previous encounter that I was inferior to the other synth we encountered,” Steel explained. “But now I am sure I have an advantage he does not.”

“Mm.” Mare Do Well took a deep breath. “You know, I’ve been in a lot of fights where I didn’t have any advantages at all.”

“How did you succeed?”

“Luck. But that’s also part of being a hero. Sometimes I have to fight even when I’m sure I can’t win. I have to do it because I’m fighting for more than myself.”

“That’s so sappy it sounds like a friendship lesson,” Lyra giggled.

“Dead end or not, there are a lot of questions I want answers to,” Bon-Bon said. “I don’t like this many mysteries all piling up. Mysterious synthetic ponies. Sabotage. Etherite. Cover-ups in the police department. Even that crazy conspiracy theorist might know something. He thought Jasmine Jewel was a synth. We didn’t even think they existed, but…” she motioned to Steel Braver.”

“It has to all be connected,” Mare Do Well agreed.

“What we know is that somepony wants Etherite. It doesn’t even matter what they need it for, because we know the only place in the city where they can still get a lot of it at once.” Bon-Bon smiled. “He has to hit the Guard depot where we’ve got the rest in storage.”

“That place is a fortress,” Lyra said. “Like, a real fortress. It’s got stone walls and guard towers. They even put in a moat! Do you know how hard it is to get zoning for a moat in a major city?”

“How would you get inside?” Mare Do Well asked, looking at Steel.

The synth tilted his head, lights flashing across his faceplate as he considered the question. “I would ask nicely if I could go inside, but I suspect that will not work for our opponent. Without more information on the building itself, I cannot render a more useful opinion.”

“Bon-Bon?” Mare Do Well asked.

“I’ll let them know we’re coming.”

The cargo train slowly rolled through the wide steel doors that had been retrofitted into the depot. It wasn’t a long train -- the secure cargo was loaded and unloaded on its own, so the engine was only pulling three cars behind it, close to the limit of what the depot’s small yard could manage at once.

A dark shape dropped down from between two cars, heavy enough that when it left, the trains rocked slightly. It froze for a moment in the shadows, but no alarm was raised. A ribbon of red light flashed between the fedora and upturned collar of the coat it was wearing, and it started walking again. It didn’t sneak or hide, but walked confidently and directly towards its destination.

Without pausing, it stepped past an empty guard post, the logbook still open and the guard absent. It followed an internal map, head turning to watch the open areas while it entered a warehouse, snapping the lock on the door in the same motion it used to pull it open.

The secure cargo was within a steel cage, more than enough to stop curious ponies, or even determined ones that hadn’t brought a lockpick or angle grinder. The synth stomped over to examine it.

An alarm sounded the moment it was clear of the door it had broken open. Steel security shutters rolled down over the doors, and the overhead lights snapped on, overloading the infiltrator’s sensors for a brief moment.

“You were right. It still came right here even when we pulled all the guards back,” a voice said from above.

The synth stopped and looked up. Mare Do Well was perched in the rafters, almost invisible in the shadows thanks to the lights between them. Steel Braver was with her, ear antennae flashing as he scanned the larger machine.

“It was obviously a trap,” Mare Do Well said. “I mean, no guards at all, even at the permanent posts?”

“It was still the most efficient route,” Steel Braver explained. “Even if it is a trap.”

Below them, the synth tilted its head, calculating something.

“I don’t know what you were ordered to do, but you’re not getting the Etherite,” Mare Do Well said.

“Unlikely,” the synth growled.

Red-hot blades launched at Loopy and Steel Braver, chains rattling behind them as they fired into the hanging trusses, wrapping around them and snapping taut, the synth below pulling hard. Bolts set into the stone of the warehouse walls popped and broke, and everything shifted, tilting to one side.

“I think he doesn’t like us talking about him!” Loopy shouted. She jumped to the wall, scrambling to get away as the structure bent and failed, the lights flickering with the strain on the wires.

Steel Braver braced himself and hung on tight as it all came down, crashing into the synth standing below and the contents of the warehouse, broken crates exploding into sawdust and splinters.

“Are you okay?” Mare Do Well yelled, the debris still settling.

Steel Braver was standing on top of it all, having ridden the truss down like a mountain goat fighting to stay atop an avalanche. “I am undamaged. Thank you for asking.”

The other synth pulled itself out of the wreckage, sparks trailing down its frame from the broken lights and wiring. The trenchcoat was shredded, revealing it in its entirety. Instead of heroic armor and a stylized look, the synth was painted in flat, matte black and bare metal. It growled like an engine turning over, tossing steel beams aside.

“I do not believe it is damaged either,” Steel Braver noted.

“Stand aside,” it ordered.

“No,” Steel Braver replied.

“You are weaker than I am,” it said.

“Yes,” Steel Braver agreed. “But I will still defeat you.”

“Hah! I got you!” Mare Do Well yelled, dropping onto the big synth’s back. She had a rough lasso made of wire, tossing it around the steel pony’s snout and pulling it tight, trying to force them to move.

The big synth didn’t move even a little.

Mare Do Well tugged a few more times. “This isn’t working the way I thought it would.”

The black synth’s shoulders popped open and spikes emerged, glowing red-hot before launching, nearly hitting the mare clinging to the synth’s back.

“Be careful!” Braver shouted. He charged at the black synth and was knocked back.

“It’s okay, I think I have his attention now!”

“That is what I am worried about!” Steel Braver exclaimed. The black synth growled and retracted the chains, and Loopy didn’t see the debris it had captured with the grappling spikes, broken crates swinging back towards it, right in the masked hero’s blind spot.

Sparks flew and steam vented from every joint when Steel Braver launched into the air. It was almost like slow motion, the way he arced up high overhead. Even the huge synth reacted with surprise, obviously not having expected it. It dropped the crates it had been dragging, snapping its blades back into place to launch them again at Steel.

Steel Braver twisted, venting more steam, adjusting his trajectory and dodging the attack by a hair’s breadth. The larger synth reared up, throwing Mare Do Well aside and out of the way. Steel Braver impacted with the bigger synth’s face, his rear hoof exploding with sparks as he delivered a kick with every bit of his strength and weight behind it right to the black-armored monster’s form.

There was a sound like a thunderclap, and the big synth’s head shattered, armor twisting and joints buckling. It collapsed with a wailing, squealing sound, and Steel Braver went down with it, his rear hoof mangled from the kick.

Mare Do Well walked over carefully, holding a pipe, and swung it into the black synth. It didn’t react, the inert machine taking the blow like any other broken machine.

“I think you got him,” Mare Do Well said.

“Oh, good,” Steel Braver said. “I do not think I can do that again.”

“I didn’t know you could jump like that,” Mare Do Well said, helping Steel Braver up. She grunted with the effort of pulling him up. “Buck, you must weigh a ton…”

The synthetic pony wobbled on three hooves. “I cannot jump like that,” Steel Braver corrected. “I had to override several limiter systems. I believe my transmission and hydraulic systems will need significant maintenance.”

“So you had to exceed your programming?” Mare Do Well asked.

“Yes, I suppose so,” Steel Braver said.

“That’s your first taste of being a real hero, then,” the masked mare said. “How does it feel?”

“I’ve been better.” Steel Braver said. He looked at the smoking, crumpled form of the other synth. “But winning is… good.” He nodded. “It feels good.”

Loopy patted him on the shoulder, and he fell back over.

“Do you want me to…?”

“If you could call an engineer to assist me, I would be thankful,” Braver said. “I will wait here until they arrive.”

“You just rest,” she said. “You did a good job.”

Old Injuries, Part 1

“Did I mention how much I don’t like this?” Loopy said. She paced around the lair like a restless tiger in a cage, lack of sleep powerless to stop her thanks to the might of anxiety and enough coffee that it was considered an unusual amount even in Seasaddle. “Legally I could just leave the city until it’s over. I’m a free pony! Free changeling, anyway. It could be like a vacation, except instead of going somewhere you stay away from a place!”

“You’re overreacting,” Bon-Bon said.

“I am not overreacting,” Loopy countered. “How am I supposed to react to this news?” She pointed accusingly at the newspaper on the table as if it contained a death threat that named her personally.

Bon-Bon held it up. “King Thorax is coming to Seasaddle as part of an official visit,” she said. “He’s going to speak with industry leaders and the city administration about bringing technology and jobs to the changeling hive.”

“Yes, exactly!” Loopy said. “No offense, because I know everypony just loves him, but I don’t want to hang out when I know he’s around.”

“I’ve met him a few times,” Lyra said. “He’s sort of a dork. Kind of reminds me of Princess Twilight, actually.”

Bon-Bon nodded, agreeing with her wife. “By all accounts, King Thorax’s only bad trait is that he tries to do too much himself. It tends to annoy the creatures that are supposed to be doing the jobs he takes for himself.”

“That fits,” Loopy muttered. “And now he’s coming here to deal with things himself.”

“Wait a minute, I know what this is,” Lyra said, standing up and grabbing the paper from Bon-Bon. She held it up in front of her while she stalked towards Loopy, smirking. “You think he’s here for you!”

“A changeling only stays alive when they’re aware of threats around them and stay paranoid,” Loopy said.

“That’s a yes,” Lyra said. “What is it? Did you two used to date? Oh my stars, that would be so cute - two rogue changelings, finding love in each other’s hooves, fighting against social norms and then torn apart by fate!”

Loopy blinked rapidly. “What?!”

“No? That’s too bad. I bet Whisper West would love to write a prequel to her books that had you and Thorax as star-crossed lovers.”

“I didn’t know Thorax. He wasn’t some kind of famous changeling, and I left years before he did. He was just a face in the crowd.”

“Look, he’s just here to get the big tech demos from all the usual people and be wowed and amazed by flashing lights and sounds,” Bon-Bon said. “Do you remember what Doctor Roll said about developing synthetic ponies? There’s almost no infrastructure in Equestria, and that goes double for the changeling hive. He’s probably just doing some sightseeing.”

“I don’t know,” Lyra said. “Reformed changelings get really excited about stuff. Maybe the hive will become the next big technology hub.”

Loopy nodded. “Reformed changelings are all dealing with more emotions than they’ve ever had in their entire lives. It’s like being on drugs.”

“Drugs like antidepressants,” Lyra sighed. “You’re a real stick in the mud sometimes, Loop d’Loop.”

“Yeah, well, you’re the ones who want me to hang out with Thorax. Why don’t you do it?”

“We’re all helping with security,” Bon-Bon said. “So… we are. We don’t expect anything to happen, but it’s an international matter and we’ve got jurisdiction, technically. SMILE has to at least stay involved.”

“If it makes you feel any better, you’ll have friends there,” Lyra said. “Whisper West is even on the guest list.”

Loopy flinched. “What?”

“I guess Philtrum wasn’t the only changeling who liked her books.” Lyra shrugged. “I’m pretty sure it’s one of those things where he’s going to shake her hoof and tell her how happy he is that she paints changelings in a good light and they do a big photo op and she gets to push her latest books in the paper for a few extra sales.”

“Ugh,” Loopy groaned. “Fine. I’ll help with security.”

Lyra patted her back. “I knew you would. Don’t worry, I’ve been on tons of visits like this. They’re all the same.”

Loopy sat on top of the building across from the press event. It was, predictably, pouring. The clouds roiled above her, trapped and swirling in the city’s infamous air pocket. It could be dizzying to look at them, sweeping in circles and unable to escape.

The party was in a glass-walled restaurant, a massive rotating disk that was supposed to give the diners an always-changing view of the city as it slowly took them around in a circle. It was an impressive technical feat, and normally Loopy would have jumped at the chance to have dinner there just for the novelty of it, but the company was keeping her far away, in costume, hiding in the shadow of a neon sign.

It was impossible to miss Thorax. Even from across the street, he was a huge neon-colored shape in the windows. Loopy was pretty sure he couldn’t see or sense her from this distance, but it made her chitin crawl to see him talking to Whisper West.

“Stupid…” Loopy muttered. “I should have talked to her and told her not to come.”

“How’s the weather out there?” Lyra asked, her voice cutting in over the radio.

Loopy snorted. “I promised I'd help with security, but I didn't promise I'd be in the same building. How’s your romantic dinner?”

“Not as romantic as I want. Bon-Bon was getting motion sick and had to go for a walk somewhere the ground wasn’t spinning under her hooves.”

“I’m not surprised. I don’t think ponies were meant to spin around while eating.”

“There’s still time for you to join us for dessert,” Lyra said. “You wouldn’t even have to change.”

“No thanks,” Loopy said. “I’m really enjoying myself.”

There was a streak of violet-white light. Loopy saw the glass crack. The pane right next to Thorax broke, and by the time she understood what was going on, it had already exploded inwards. Thorax stood up, making himself an even bigger target, and froze in confusion like the big dumb moose he was.

“Lyra, get everypony out of there!” Loopy shouted.

“Got it!” Loopy had the distinct pleasure of watching Lyra tackle Thorax out of the way before a second shot ripped through the broken pane, crashing into the table behind them and blowing the plastic and wood apart.

Loopy had gotten a good look at the shot this time, because she’d been ready for it. “That angle… no way!”

She stepped over to the edge of the building and looked down. It was all flat and boxy shapes, panels of painted steel bracketed between tall windows, and that made it easy to spot the anomaly from above, a thin shape sticking out of the building two stories below.

Loopy jumped over the edge, grabbing the barrel of the weapon and putting all her weight into it. The pony on the other end yelped in surprise, the weapon torn right from his hooves. She followed up by swinging through the open window and kicking him out of the way.

“Nice aim,” she said, tossing the weapon aside and closing on the pony who’d fired it. He was wearing piecemeal armor, like he’d scavenged the plates from a junkyard and spraypainted them black. The metal mask covered all but one eye, making his expression blank.

Almost as blank as his emotions.

Loopy should have been able to sense fear, or anxiety, or anger, or something from the stallion, but she might as well have been trying to read a statue.

“So, you want to give up, or--?”

The stallion pulled a smaller weapon and fired without saying a word, a bolt of light cracking over Loopy’s head. She hadn’t sensed it coming but she was still faster than he was, rolling along the floor with the motion of her dodge and into his legs, taking him down in a heap.

He grunted and tried to bring his weapon to bear in the grapple. Loopy was close enough to see the two crystals in the mechanism snap together and spark as it went off, the bolt close enough to her face to rip through her mask.

The stallion’s eye went wide, and he kicked her away.

“Changeling…” he muttered, getting back to his hooves in what should have been blind panic but felt like a machine going through the motions.

“Well, it’s not exactly a secret at this point,” Loopy admitted. “After all, Whisper wrote all those books about me.” She got up more carefully, watching him. She could feel an emotion, just a tiny touch of it now. Fear.

He looked at the window, looked at Loopy, then grabbed something from a tactical saddlebag and threw it at her. She jumped back and the canister hit the floor between them, smoke pouring out of it and quickly filling the room. Loopy swore, started after him, and collapsed to her knees, coughing. Something in the smoke was making her head spin and eyes water. She forced herself up and to the broken window, gasping for fresh air.

By the time she could breathe again, the armored stallion was long gone.

“Buck,” she swore.

“This glintlock was produced for the royal guard,” Bon-Bon said. They had the long rifle the assassin had used on a table in a conference room of the hotel. It was closer than the Mare Lair and, more importantly, Thorax had wanted to be included and Loopy had flatly refused to let him go anywhere near where she slept.

“I didn’t think they used weapons like this,” Thorax said. “Shining Armor would have mentioned something.”

“They don’t.” Bon-Bon tapped the numbers stamped into the wooden stock. “These were made as part of a qualification run, to see if the Guard should adopt them. There were only about a hundred made, and most of them were tested to destruction. They have a nasty tendency to explode at a moment’s notice.”

“Guess this one was built well,” Loopy muttered. She had a wet rag over her eyes, and her damaged mask and hat were on another chair. “What about the smoke grenade?”

“That was home-made. Whatever he put in it, I can’t tell you without sending it to a lab for a week so they can run tests. All I know is, it doesn’t affect ponies the same way. It’s specifically an irritant to changelings, and that’s probably deliberate.”

“He must really hate us,” Thorax sighed, looking down. “I’m sorry I dragged you all into this.”

“Don’t apologize,” Bon-Bon said. “It’s our job to keep you safe. What concerns me is the amount of planning that went into the attack. This isn’t a case of him just stumbling into you, or reading the news and making a snap decision. He had specialized gear, he had to find the right room to use… this is something he planned for a long time.”

“The only thing he didn’t get was practice,” Lyra said. “I think the rotation of the restaurant threw off his aim. He didn’t know how much it would affect his aim at that distance.”

The door opened, and everyone in the room turned.

“It’s just me,” Whisper West said. “I grabbed some drinks from the place downstairs and another wet cloth for Loopy.”

“Thanks,” Loopy said, swapping to the new rag. “It still feels like I tried to use hot sauce for eye drops.”

“Just keep washing it out,” Lyra advised, nodding thanks to Whisper West and taking a bottle of lemon-lime soda. “It sucks but there’s nothing else we can do right now.”

“I might be able to heal it,” Thorax offered. “I could--”

“No thanks,” Loopy said, cutting him off. “I don’t need your help.”

Thorax winced. “Sorry.”

“I’m just going to wait outside,” Loopy said. “Thanks again, Whisper.”

Loopy got up, and Whisper put a hoof on her shoulder.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Loopy said. “I just need some space from… things.” She meant Thorax and literally everyone in the room knew it. She walked outside half-blind, lifting one edge of the towel and trying to focus through the blur of tears and stinging pain.

“Wait,” Thorax said, following her out into the hallway. “I just… I wanted to have a chance to talk to you alone.”

“I know,” Loopy said. “That’s why I’m leaving. I’d rather not do this right now.”

“I just feel… I thought I found all the changelings that needed help, but I missed you, and the longer it goes on the more awkward it is and I’m really not good with these situations and I’m starting to have a panic attack because you’re just standing there and not saying anything and I can’t even tell what you’re feeling!”

“We’re not having this conversation,” Loopy said.

Thorax winced. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s--” Loopy paused, sensing something like the ghost of fear wafting down the hallway, then shoved Thorax aside. A bolt of crackling magic shot through the space his head had been a moment before.

The armored pony was standing at the other end of the hallway. He adjusted his aim and fired again. Loopy could barely see and didn’t react in time. A couch appeared in front of her, the cushions exploding as they absorbed the hits. Thorax hefted it in his magic aura and threw it down the hallway. The armored pony ducked to the wall, letting the couch go past.

“How did he know which floor we were on?” Thorax asked.

“He probably followed Whisper West from the corner shop,” Loopy said. “It’s what I would do.”

“You’re a threat to Equestria!” the pony shouted. There was conviction behind his voice, but Loopy still couldn’t really feel any strong emotions. “Changelings can’t reform! It’s just an act so they can weaken us from inside like the parasites they are!”

“That’s not true!” Thorax yelled. “We’re better than that! We just want to be friends!”

The door to the conference room cracked open. Loopy met Bon-Bon’s gaze and motioned for her to go around to the other exit and flank the pony shouting at them. It was a very complex hoof signal and some amount of interpretation was required, but she was sure Bon-Bon understood the general idea.

The armored pony took a few more shots, just keeping Thorax and Loopy pinned behind what little cover the hallway offered as he advanced towards them.

Bon-Bon crept up behind him and went for his hoof, using his blind side to her advantage. She grabbed his hoof near the elbow and twisted, making him drop the short glintlock he was using. He turned and slammed his steel-plated face into her snout, knocking her back.

“Don’t protect them!” he ordered. “They’re just using ponies! You’re a food source to them!”

He picked up the glintlock and pointed it at Bon-Bon. Yellow magic surrounded the weapon when he pulled the trigger.

“Get away from my wife!” Lyra shouted. The weapon shivered in the pony’s hooves, the crystals in the mechanism sparking and arcing uncontrollably. He threw it aside and shielded himself. The glintlock went off like a bomb, the casing exploding and throwing shrapnel across the hallway.

“You can’t beat all of us,” Loopy said.

“You’re right,” the armored pony said. He grabbed two canisters from his belt and tossed them in either direction. Smoke filled the hallway. Loopy cursed and backed off. Her eyes were still watering from her last experience, and this had the same awful stink.

“Stay back!” Loopy warned.

“I’ll get him!” Bon-Bon shouted, rushing at him. She got flung through the door into the conference room, shattering the lock. Whisper shouted in alarm from inside as smoke filled the room.

“I can’t see anything through this…” Loopy growled.

“Hold on,” Thorax said. He turned and threw a bolt of force at the windows behind them, fresh air and wind sweeping into the room and pushing the smoke away. The smoke started to clear, and they saw the stairwell door swing shut.

“I’ll get him!” Thorax yelled, charging through the last of the smoke. He pushed it open and felt the resistance from the wire going taut as he did, and was just wise enough to realize he made a mistake. There was a blast of light and sound, and the changeling king was thrown back in a shower of sparks and whistling fireworks.

“Lyra!” Bon-Bon shouted, pulling herself free of the broken door.

“On it!” Lyra already had the fire extinguisher, putting out the erupting fountain before it could set the hotel ablaze, spraying foam into the smoke and fury until it quieted down.

“Is anypony hurt?” Loopy asked.

“Only my pride got really injured,” Bon-Bon said, rubbing her snout. “Nothing broken.”

“I’m fine,” Lyra said. “Just don’t ask me to do anything too complicated with magic for the rest of the day. The feedback from that blast really hurt.”

“I’m okay too,” Thorax groaned, getting up and brushing ashes from his carapace where roman candles and fireworks had bounced off him. “I can’t believe he set a trap on the door…”

“Where’s Whisper?” Loopy asked, looking around the room.

Whisper West gasped when the bag was taken off her head. “I could barely breathe in that thing! You almost killed me, you psychopath!”

“I apologize,” the armored pony said.

Whisper’s eyes slowly adjusted. She was in a spotlight in an otherwise dark room. She looked down at her hooves. She’d been chained to a concrete block.

“You should let me go now,” Whisper said. “Mare Do Well is going to come for me, and you’re not going to like what she does.”

“I want her to come for you,” the armored pony explained. He started taking off his tactical gear, checking each piece as he did. “I didn’t think she was really a changeling. I thought that was just a story. That’s fine, though. Just one more bug to squash.”

“Why do you hate them so much? What did King Thorax or Mare Do Well even do to you?”

“I don’t hate them. I don’t hate anything. I can’t feel things like that anymore,” the stallion said. He took off his mask and stepped into the light. Whisper West gasped. “They took that from me,” he said through scarred lips, one eye an empty crater. “I’m not doing this out of hate. I’m doing this because it’s my job.”

Whisper swallowed. “Please, just let me go! I won’t tell anyone where you are!”

“Don’t worry. I won’t hurt you. Once this is all over, and both of them are dead, you’ll be free to go. It’s nothing personal.” He put his mask back on. “Some bugs just need to be exterminated.”

Old Injuries, Part 2

Whisper West wiggled, trying to get comfortable on the concrete. The hoofcuffs didn’t give her a lot of room to change her position, and she was starting to cramp up between the cold and being unable to stretch. She looked over at the masked pony, who’d been trotting around the warehouse and doing something in the shadows she couldn’t quite make out.

“What’s your name?” Whisper asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” the masked pony said. His voice echoed in the wide space. As her eyes had adjusted, she’d seen that the warehouse was full of train cars in various states of disassembly along with the tools to do it.

“I need to call you something,” Whisper said. “Please?”

There was a long pause, the sound of a peg being hammered into concrete, and the masked pony walked back towards the light, putting a sledgehammer down and picking up a screwdriver. “If you have to call me something, Pest Control is fine. It’s what I do.”

“What are you doing?” she asked. It couldn’t hurt to at least try to make conversation.

“I’m getting ready. The bugs are going to come along to try and get you back.” He walked over to a door and tested it a few times before closing it securely and doing something to the hinges.

“You mean they’re going to rescue me from somepony crazy,” Whisper said.

“I don’t expect you to understand,” he said. He didn’t sound mad about being called crazy. The insult just rolled off him without hitting home. “I almost feel sorry for you. You’re a victim. They’ve got you twisted around their broken hooves and you don’t even realize it. You’re being eaten alive and you’re hoping the monsters doing it come back soon to gnaw on you more.”

“I’m not a victim! For one thing, King Thorax is a reformed changeling. He doesn’t need to eat love!”

“That’s what they tell ponies,” Pest Control agreed. He picked up a box held together with tape and attached it to the door he’d been working on. “The other one isn’t even pretending to be reformed. I think I respect her more. She isn’t pretending.”

“It seems to me like you’re fighting a war all on your own. If you want ponies to take you seriously, you could at least tell me why you’re acting like this. The Changeling Hive is an Equestrian ally. I’ve known plenty of nice changelings. You said you don’t want to hurt me, so on some level you must want to help ponies, right? You can’t expect them to accept your help if you won’t tell them why they need it.”

“It should be obvious why they need it,” Pest Control said.

“It’s not obvious to me. What happened to you?”

Pest Control walked between two defunct train cars and strung something between them. “If I tell you, you’ll write about it.”

“Do you want me to write about it?”

Pest Control paused. “Yes. But I want you to tell the truth. Ponies have been lying to themselves for too long.”

Whisper nodded agreement.

Pest Control started without preamble, no real emotion in his voice as he spoke. “I was in love. It was a long time ago. I was a teenager. I didn’t know it, but that kind of first love is apparently delicious to changelings. Like fine wine. The pony I was in love with didn’t even exist. She was just an infiltrator looking for easy prey.”

“I’m sorry,” Whisper said.

“That would have been bad enough. Would have broken my heart. But I didn’t have many connections. Orphan. Not a lot of friends. Ready to do whatever the pony I loved wanted. They tricked me, and I was taken away to the hive. They captured me and drained me dry. Not much to say about that. It was like being in dreams that kept turning into nightmares until I couldn’t feel anything anymore.”

He opened a steel case and extracted a long-barreled weapon, putting it on a makeshift bench and checking it over as he spoke.

“When I wasn’t useful anymore, they let me go. They dragged me out of a pod, on legs I hadn’t used for months, and threw me into the badlands. I was supposed to die. I almost did. Vultures thought I was dead. They did this.” He motioned to his face with his hoof. “I don’t know how I lived. Dragged myself somewhere other ponies found me.”

“That’s awful,” Whisper said.

“It was almost worse when I got back,” Pest Control said. He finished what he was doing and walked over to her. “Therapists didn’t believe me about changelings. Ponies didn’t think they existed. I spent years recovering, then I started fixing Equestria. I could see the signs. I squashed every changeling I could find.”

“Why didn’t you go to the Royal Guard and show them proof?” Whisper asked.

“Ponies don’t like to think about big problems. When I showed them proof, they thought it was one lone monster. There was no way it was a conspiracy worming its way everywhere. Infesting Equestria. Then the Canterlot invasion happened, and I thought ponies would finally understand. I thought I could stop. You know what happened next.”

“Thorax overthrew Chrysalis, and the changelings reformed,” Whisper said.

Pest Control nodded. “They found a way to hide again, but out in public this time. They can walk among ponies openly and ponies call them friends. They’re monsters. They might look shiny and pastel now, but they’re the same monsters that drained me dry and left me to die. One of them out there pretended to love me. Ponies didn’t just forgive, they forget. They act like it was different changelings that invaded Canterlot. They’re the same creatures, just wearing different faces. That’s what changelings do. They wear different faces and trick you. But they won’t trick me. Never again.”

“...So…” Thorax coughed. Loopy could taste the awkward in the air. “Are you and Miss West…?”

“If you’re asking me for permission to date her, the answer is no,” Loopy said. “We’re not involved, but I’m definitely not letting her get involved with you.”

Thorax groaned and shook his head. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Whisper West is my friend,” Loopy said. “I helped her with her books. I’ve used her as bait. And now somepony else is using her as bait against me.”

“It’s just, you know,” Thorax coughed, trying to act casual. He casually, twice as large as Loopy and as a giant neon-colored moose bug, leaned against the hotel wall. “It would be okay if you were in love with her, or somepony else. Sharing love is actually really healthy!”

Loopy rolled her eyes. “Did that little speech work with any of the other changelings you used it on?”

“Not really,” Thorax admitted.

“I figured,” Loopy said. There was a knock on the door.

“Are you decent?” Bon-Bon asked.

Loopy looked up and shifted into her usual disguise, black chitin disappearing behind pink fur. “Come in.”

Bon-Bon stepped in, holding a letter and looking at it, thinking. “A courier dropped off a letter at the front desk. I had Lyra look it over, but it doesn’t seem like there’s any of that bug spray he was using before, so it should be safe.”

“It’s a ransom letter,” Loopy said, without even needing to look at it.

“Sort of,” Bon-Bon confirmed. “He wants to trade hostages. He’ll give Whisper West back in exchange for King Thorax. I don’t know why he expects--”

“I’ll do it,” Thorax said, immediately.

“Yeah, we’ll definitely trade them,” Loopy agreed.

Bon-Bon blinked a few times, obviously confused. “What? King Thorax, no offense, but we can’t do that. You’re royalty, and the leader of a nation. Whisper West is a good pony, but there’s no way this is a fair trade.”

“As a leader, I can’t let a pony get hurt because of me,” Thorax said. “Changelings are still finding their place as part of Equestria. Whatever problems he has with changelings, I might be able to talk to him and at least understand what happened and try to make amends.”

Loopy shrugged. “I just like Whisper more. It seems like a fair trade.”

“It’s not even going to be a trade,” Bon-Bon said. “He wants Thorax to come alone. It’s obviously going to be a trap, and he’ll just make more demands after he has what he wants!”

“I still have to do it,” Thorax said. “Thank you for your assistance. Where does he want to make the trade?”

“Hello?” King Thorax asked, as he walked through the old train graveyard, as if it wasn’t possible to see him from a mile away. “I’m here, alone, just like you asked. Let Whisper West go!”

Spotlights snapped on from directly ahead, the glare blinding Thorax.

“I know you don’t like changelings, and I understand,” Thorax said. “I didn’t like my people either! That’s why I ran away. I’ve been doing everything I can to help them change and become better creatures. We want to make up for what we did, but the first step is understanding each other. I want to talk to you, and we can work something out!”

A shot cracked through the darkness and impacted a pace in front of Thorax, a magical shield briefly shimmering into visibility. Thorax sighed, his antlers glowing softly in the dark.

“If you’ll just listen--”

A second shot bounced off the shield.

“I told you,” Mare Do Well said, from the shadows of a broken-down passenger car.

“You did tell me,” Thorax agreed. A third shot bounced away. “I can do this all day, but it’s not much fun. I think he’s behind the spotlights. I can’t see anything through the glare.”

“Just keep being a big neon moose target.”

Mare Do Well slipped out onto the next track over, sprinting low to try and avoid being seen by the sniper. She almost tripped over a nearly-invisible fishing line.

“Oh buck,” she whispered, just before the fireworks went off, flares launching into the air and completely eliminating any shade and cover she might have had. She spread her wings and took off, abandoning stealth and flitting as quickly as she could towards the spot the shots were coming from, a tent set up on top of an aging warehouse.

The barrel of the weapon protruded from a hunter’s nest shrouded by a filthy tarp. Loopy grabbed the edge of the tarp and yanked it back, ready to strike the pony behind the weapon.

There was no pony behind the glintlock. A few ropes and a clockwork timer were pulling the trigger and holding it on-target down the obvious sightline.

“What?” Loopy asked, confused, right before it went off in her face. Something dropped into a half-full jar and there was a thump of fire and smoke.

“Mare Do Well!” Thorax shouted, running for the warehouse. The rain was spreading whatever had been used as fuel, the puddle growing and fire dripping onto the ground in a hissing, bubbling mess.

The King looked up in horror at the blaze.

A dark shape rolled out of the flames, Mare Do Well totally enveloped by fire. Thorax was not the best pony in a crisis but he didn’t freeze up in the face of danger. He rushed for her and turned into a wet blanket, which was both literally and metaphorically one of his most finely-honed skills.

It took almost a full minute for the smoke and steam to stop and for Loopy to pull herself free, her costume just burned tatters now.

“Okay, that’s a little too intimate,” she gasped, shoving Thorax away. He shifted back, his chitin scuffed and burned in a few places.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine. My costume isn’t.” She tore the rags off. “This guy’s really getting on my nerves. I don’t have a lot of spare outfits, you know.”

“We need to find him before he can do anything else,” Thorax said. “I don’t think he’ll be happy that I didn’t come alone.”

“I’m not hiding,” the pony’s voice boomed across the trainyard.

The rolling door to the warehouse opened with a loud squeal, and the armored pony stood waiting for them. He motioned for the changelings to come closer, brandishing a staff.

“So what should we tell the police your name is when we bring you in?” Loopy asked. “I’m sure they’ll want to meet a pony who attempted to murder an ambassador.”

“Pest Control,” he said.

The two changelings made it almost all the way there. A spring sprung, and a rope pulled taut. The dust under Loopy’s hooves shifted. She sighed.

“Buck,” she said, just before the net swept her and Thorax up, twisting and tangling them in a spinning motion like a giant spider wrapping them in a web, which was particularly distressing when there were, in fact, spiders large enough to do that.

The net stopped spinning and dropped heavily to the ground, Thorax landing on top of Loopy and knocking the air from her lungs.

“Why are you so heavy?” Loopy groaned.

The armored pony stepped out into the open, grabbing a trailing rope from the net.

Thorax’s antlers sparked, lightning crackling between them.

“I can’t use my magic,” Thorax groaned. “I can’t break us free!”

“It’s a zebra potion,” Pest Control explained. “It reveals a changeling’s true form when applied to their body, but when soaked into a rope, or a net, it suppresses your magic.”

“Can I at least get a separate net?” Loopy asked. “Stop kicking me!”

“Sorry,” Thorax whispered.

Pest Control dragged them into the middle of the room. He walked over to Whisper West and grabbed her fetlock.

“Leave her alone!” Loopy snapped.

Pest Control ignored her and pulled something out of his pouch. Loopy struggled against the ropes, trying to get free, and-- the hoofcuffs came loose. Pest Control hadn’t grabbed for a weapon. He’d produced hoofcuff keys.

“You’re free to go,” he said. “I got what I wanted.”

“I’m not going to--” Whisper started.

“You aren’t going to want to see what happens to them,” Pest Control continued. “It’s never pretty, and they smell worse on the inside.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” Loopy mumbled.

“I won’t let you hurt them,” Whisper said, getting between Pest Control and the bound changelings. “You’re wrong about them.”

“I don’t blame you for not understanding,” Pest Control said. “You’ve been tricked. Fed on. That’s what they did to me. You’ll be better someday. You’ll thank me.”

He twirled the staff he was holding.

“I promise I won’t do anything to you that won’t eventually heal,” he said. “I know you’re a victim like me.”

Loopy growled. “Get away from her!”

She bit into the rope netting, the zebra potion soaked into it burning her mouth like she’d bit into poison ivy. She gnawed at the rope, her fangs cutting into it.

“Move!” Pest Control shouted, shoving Whisper aside. She grabbed the staff he was holding and hung onto it, delaying him for a few critical seconds, enough for Loopy to tear free and stumble out of the net, spitting and trying to get the taste out of her mouth.

Whisper yelped and fell down, Pest Control dropping his staff and kicking her aside.

“Are you hurt?” Loopy shouted, her voice raspy.

“I’m okay,” Whisper said.

“Try to get the big moose idiot free,” Loopy said. “I’ve got this guy.”

Whisper nodded and got up, circling around Pest Control to get to Thorax. Pest Control lunged for her, and Loopy got in front of him. He flinched, and she felt that little surge of emotion, that little flickering flame that was still deep inside somewhere.

“You’re afraid of me,” Loopy said. “I sensed it when you ripped my mask, and again in the hotel.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” Pest Control denied. He took a step forward in defiance.

“You aren’t afraid of Thorax. Is that because you can look at the big clumsy moose and it doesn’t bring back any bad memories?” Loopy asked. She circled around him, watching to see if he was going to grab for a weapon.

“I’ve squashed worse bugs than you,” Pest Control said. He pulled a short, wickedly curved knife, holding it tight against his fetlock and taking up a fighting stance.

“Worse than me?” Loopy asked. She laughed. “Worse than me?”

Loopy blazed with green fire, doubling and then tripling in size. A terrible cackle filled the air. Pest Control’s fear came back to life, the ghost of drained emotions returning in full, terrible force. He backed up, falling on his butt as the strength left his legs.

“No. That’s impossible!” Pest Control gasped. He dropped the knife.

“Nothing is impossible,” Queen Chrysalis purred. She smirked and took a step towards him. “Oh, my little pony. It’s been too long. Don’t you remember all that time we spent together?”

“No. No!” Pest Control scrambled back.

“Where are you going?” Chrysalis asked. “Do you really think you can escape me? You’ll never really be free!”

In his blind panic, Pest Control ran for the door to the warehouse, his mind blank, all his preparation and training forgotten. Chrysalis spotted the package at the corner of the door, wrapped in brown paper and topped with a blinking light and a wire running to the handle.

“Wait!” Chrysalis shouted.

Pest Control opened the door, and the bomb exploded in a dull, heavy thump of roiling fire. The ground quaked from the shock, and the skeletal train shells slumped and slid as the floor began to crumble.

Chrysalis vanished, Loopy shifting back to her normal shape, the drain from becoming someone so much larger making her stagger with weakness. She almost fell, until a pony grabbed her, steadying her.

“I’ve got you,” Whisper West said.

“I thought I came here to get you,” Loopy quipped.

“We need to get out of here!” Thorax shouted, shrugging off the rest of the net. “The building is coming down!”

The roof was already weakened from the fire, and when the ground started shaking, the damaged warehouse couldn’t take any more. The rusted beams started twisting, and the load moved, twisting them further.

“That way!” Whisper pointed. “He didn’t trap that door!”

Thorax picked up both Whisper and Loopy with his magic, charging through the far door only seconds ahead of the destruction. They got outside with his hooves trailing dust and debris rolling out of the door behind them like lost puppies made of wreckage.

“Put me down,” Loopy grunted. Thorax carefully placed her on her hooves. She narrowed her eyes and watched the building collapse in on itself.

“It’s over,” Thorax sighed. He put Whisper down next to Loopy, gently pushing them together to support each other.

“Maybe,” Whisper said. “He survived a lot already. If there was a pony who might come back, it’s him.”

Black Market Goods, Part 2

Professor Valley was absolutely sure that students got dumber every year. When she’d been a young mare working towards her degree in engineering, her professors had been geniuses and she’d had rival classmates that had gone on to do great things in their fields. She was a genius -- that part of the equation hadn’t changed -- but her students were so dull she suspected most of them were only in school because it would be irresponsible to allow anypony out into the wider world when they couldn’t find their cutie marks with two hooves and a map.

She flipped through the tests that had been returned to her by her evening class and shook her head.

“How can they do so poorly when it’s multiple-choice?” she muttered. “Statistically they should be able to get at least a quarter of the questions correct even if they’re just guessing at random!”

She grabbed her keys to unlock her office door, but when her hoof touched the knob, it swung open.

“Did the janitors forget to close up again?” she muttered, pushing the door open the rest of the way. She fumbled for the light switch, privately sure it moved around when she wasn’t looking. When her hoof finally hit it, the overhead lights buzzed and flickered on and she sighed.

“Hey, Mom,” Gwen said.

Professor Valley put the papers down and stepped inside. A mare stepped out of the blind spot created by the door and pushed it shut quietly.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” Professor Valley said. “If there’s one thing you’re particularly good at, it’s finding new ways to get into trouble. What is it now, Gwen? And how much of it is going to come to my front door?”

“You know, funny you should say that--”

“And you brought a friend,” Professor Valley continued. “I would say it was good to see you again, Philtrum, but you apparently went and lost my suit. You paid for it, but I am still rather cross that you let good work go to waste.”

“You know Philtrum?” Mare Do Well asked. “You made that crazy suit?”

“Can we focus on one thing at a time?” Gwen asked. “I’m not feeling very good.”

Professor Valley stepped closer. “What did you do to yourself?” She slapped Gwen’s talon away when she tried to hide the injury. “Look at this mess.” She shook her head and clucked in disappointment.

“It hurts enough without you yelling at me for being hurt, mom,” Gwen groaned.

“Well of course it hurts! It looks like somepony took a machete to you. It went right through your sixth intercostal support, penetrated a secondary subprocessor, and broke a coolant pump.” She sighed.

“Is that bad?” Mare Do Well asked.

Professor Valley shrugged. “It’s not great, but not terrible. I can fix it, but I don’t like seeing Gwen get hurt like this. This isn’t the kind of hurt you get from having a minor accident, and since she didn’t come alone, I can’t imagine how bad it must be.” She shot a glare at Mare Do Well.

“It’s not her fault,” Gwen said. She squeaked in alarm when Professor Valley prodded something inside the wound. “Do you have to do that?”

“I need to see how bad it is,” Valley said.

“I thought doctors were supposed to have some bedside manner,” Gwen grumbled.

“If you want to go to somepony else, feel free,” Professor Valley said. She stepped back. “I can repair this, but we can’t do it here unless you want me to staple you shut and call it a day. We’ll have to go to one of the labs. There are plenty of tools and supplies.”

“The lab sounds good,” Gwen said. She tried to get up, and Mare Do Well rushed over to catch her when she stumbled. Professor Valley raised an eyebrow.

“On the way, I want to know how you two met,” she said.

“Only if you’ll tell me your side of the story,” Mare Do Well said. “I need to know about Philtrum’s suit. And Gwen, I guess, but only if she’s okay with it.”

“Hm. Taking her feelings into consideration?” Valley asked. “Interesting. I really do need to know more.”

“...And so I had to help her get here,” Mare Do Well said, while Professor Valley worked the lock on the lab door. “I took the old subway tunnels most of the way since it was off the streets and we didn’t need eyes on us.”

“Smarter than I expected from somepony who spends their evenings trying to solve major societal problems by punching them away,” Professor Valley said. She pushed the door open and pointed. “Put her up on the bench there. Just move the equipment that’s in the way. It’s only from grad students, and they’re used to being disappointed.”

“I’m glad I’m not one of your students,” Mare Do Well said, helping Gwen up onto the steel table.

“Mm,” Valley said, non-committal but also glad for the same reason. “So you wanted to know about the suit? What happened to Philtrum?” She started gathering tools, putting them down near Gwen.

“She’s getting better,” Mare Do Well said. “She was going crazy from all the emotional energy she absorbed. She gave me the suit after I helped stop her before anypony else could get hurt.”

“And why would she give it to you?”

“I think it’s because she wanted me to keep up the good work. I’d been… sort of retired, and she looked up to me.”

“I take it you’re implying you’re the original?”

“One step closer to the original, at least,” Mare Do Well said.

“Well there isn’t much I can do to help you with the Suit,” Valley said. “I’m guessing when you tried to wear it, nothing worked properly? It probably felt like it didn’t fit, no matter what you did, and then all the integrated weapons and devices wouldn’t function?”

“Yeah, not even when I was doing what the manual said!”

“The Suit isn’t just armor,” Professor Valley explained. “It’s built a lot like Gwen.” She opened a refrigerated case and pulled out a metal tray. Using some forceps she carefully lifted a sheet of translucent, soft plastic out of the liquid it had been resting in. It moved like a sheet of gelatin, slightly thick and wobbly, and was shot through with golden wires. It looked, in short, a lot like the glimpse she’d gotten of Gwen’s insides.

“What’s that stuff?” Mare Do Well asked.

“It’s a bio-neural supercell net,” Valley said. “Sort of a thinking muscle. It’s what my daughter is mostly made out of. Even without a central plexus, it’s somewhat aware. That’s why the suit doesn’t work for you, Mare Do Well. It’s about as intelligent as a cat, and just as picky. It doesn’t like you.”

“That explains a lot,” Mare Do Well sighed. “At least I can tell Lyra I’m not as bad with technology as she thinks.”

“Gwen, I’m going to turn on your pain inhibitors while I work,” Valley said softly. “You’re going to be fine. Physically. I can’t do anything about you acting like an idiot.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” Gwen muttered. “I was trying to get the money we need to buy her back.”

“And what did you do, rob a bank?” Valley asked.

“No, she decided to steal a dragon’s egg from one of the Jade Triangle Families,” Mare Do Well said. She put the heavy bag on another bench and opened it, revealing the glittering shell within, like gold leaf and granite.

“Robbing a bank would have been safer,” the professor muttered. “Stop squirming!”

“It feels weird!” Gwen complained.

“So are you going to tell me why you needed so many bits you were willing to do something this stupid for them?” Mare Do Well asked.

“I had to get enough to buy Jasmine back,” Gwen said.

“Jasmine Jewel? Oh, you can’t be serious. Are you telling me that nutcase was right? She really is a synth?”

“My first daughter,” Professor Valley sighed. “I built her under contract. I needed the money to continue my research, and… I didn’t realize how much of a mistake it would be.”

“She’s going to be dumped like trash!” Gwen groaned. “They’re replacing her with a new pop star, and she’s going to be thrown in a warehouse somewhere to rot! I had to get the money fast!”

“If it’s that bad, why can’t she just leave?” Mare Do Well asked. “Slavery is illegal, she could just walk away as long as she doesn’t care about getting paid.”

“She can’t,” Valley said. “Jasmine isn’t as advanced as Gwen. The main difference is her power source. To recharge, Jasmine needs to stay on her charging platform for several hours a day.”

“A charging platform?”

“Her stage,” Gwen explained. “It’s why she doesn’t go far without it. If she doesn’t stay on-stage for a few hours every day, she’ll shut down. She’s chained to it, and as long as they control it, they control her.”

“I knew her manager was a scumbag, but I didn’t think they were that bad,” Mare Do Well said. “There has to be some other way to help.”

“It’s not a problem you can punch away,” Professor Valley said.

“No, but that might be,” Mare Do Well said, pointing out the window. A dozen ponies were walking towards the lab, and they didn’t look like the type who were interested in after-hours research.

“How could they track us?” Gwen asked. She tried to get up.

“Don’t you dare move!” Valley snapped. “I’m in the middle of replacing your insides and I am not letting a daughter of mine go out half-disassembled!”

“We must have been seen leaving the subway,” Mare Do Well said. “We’re sort of distinctive, and all it takes is one pair of eyes in the wrong place.”

“Would you please go deal with that?” Valley asked, motioning to the window. “I’ve got my hooves full.”

“Mind if I borrow a few things?” Mare Do Well asked, looking at a rack of chemicals.

Mare Do Well kicked the door open dramatically, standing with the light behind her and looking out at the approaching gang.

“If you get caught out this late at night, you might end up getting academic suspension,” she said. “How about you go back to your rooms quietly and I won’t tell the dean?”

“How about you turn over my egg and the thief, and I give you this pony back all at once instead of piece by piece?” one of the thugs said, stepping out in front of the others. He had a knife to the throat of the pony in front of him, a terrified looking filly who was having her very first college hostage situation. He also had an extraordinarily fancy suit in ruby-red zebra print lined with violet silk, but the knife was more of a pressing matter, especially for his hostage.

“My egg?” Mare Do Well asked. “So I’m guessing you’re somepony important?”

“If you really knew anything about this city you’d know me. I am Crimson Stream, head of the Chimera’s Breath, the most powerful family of the Jade Triangle. A griffon stole something very important to me. I want it back.”

“The dragon’s egg,” Mare Do Well said.

“Yes. It belongs to me. There is a dragon that will trade her entire hoard for it. Or whatever else I might require. Until then, it is a marker for her cooperation, and one that has no value to you. You do not even know the name of the dragon whose debt it represents.”

“I might be willing to give it back. Let the kid go and we can discuss terms.”

“No,” Crimson said. “You will give it back, and give me the thief. I don’t care if they’re alive or dead. Once I have both, I’ll be happy to let you have this cute little thing. I have enough scared fillies to give this one back without many regrets.”

“Please get me out of here,” the filly whispered, trying not to even breathe too hard with the knife against her skin.

“I will,” Mare Do Well promised.

“And it is easily done,” Crimson said. “You know the terms.”

“I’ve got a counter-proposal,” Mare Do Well said. She threw a glass beaker down between them, and it shattered along with a smaller vial inside. The two chemicals mixed together, and a huge amount of smoke poured into the air, the entire square outside the lab building filling with haze.

“Get her!” Crimson shouted. He backed up to a hedge, putting his back to something more or less solid and keeping the hostage in front of him.

He couldn’t see anything through the smoke. It was only getting thicker by the moment. He heard sharp impacts, screams, and the dull sound of bodies hitting cobblestone and not getting back up. A green flash shot through the fog, and for a moment he saw his men silhouetted, Mare Do Well kicking one away, a crackle of green fire connecting her to another unfortunate thug.

“I told you what would happen to you if you didn’t cooperate!” Crimson shouted. “I told you what would happen to her!”

“And what do you think is going to happen to you?” Mare Do Well asked, her voice echoing from all around. “Do you think you’re going to hurt her and walk away? Do you think you’ll ever walk again if you do that?”

“If you touch me--”

“Let the girl go, or you’re going to have a bad time,” Mare Do Well said. The smoke started to clear as a breeze rolled in, revealing all of Crimson’s men on the ground in various states ranging from ‘going to hurt in the morning’ to ‘months of traction’.

There was no sign of the masked pony who’d put the hurt on them.

“Where did she go?” Crimson whispered.

Hooves grabbed him from behind, pulling him through the hedge. Before he knew what was happening, the knife was out of his hooves, he was on the ground, and a very angry pony was standing over him.

Mare Do Well grabbed Crimson by the lapels and pulled him up to glare into his eyes.

“If I even think you’re coming after me or anyone I care about, I’m going to take your family apart,” Mare Do Well said. “You get the cops tonight because I just want you out of my mane, but next time it’s personal, and you don’t want to see me get personal. Do you understand?”

Crimson gasped, struggling weakly in her grasp.

“Do you understand?!” Mare Do Well demanded.

He nodded and she let him go, kicking his chin and putting him out for the count.

“She’ll live,” Valley declared, removing rubber hoof-covers and looking annoyed. “But it was a near thing.”

“I thought you said it wasn’t horrible?” Mare Do Well said.

“I didn’t want her to panic. She’s impossible to deal with when she’s freaking out,” Valley said.

“No I’m not!” Gwen squawked. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go trade this dragon egg for my sister, who you abandoned.”

She slid off the table and reached for the egg. Mare Do Well got in front of her.

“It’s not going to happen,” she said. “This is too much trouble.”

Gwen clenched her fist. “But I went through all this just to get it! I have to save her before they throw her away like trash!”

“I promise I’ll find another way,” Mare Do Well said. “Even if I have to go and steal her myself, I won’t let her get thrown away.”

“Mm,” Valley looked away. “I trust her, Gwen.”

“Fine,” Gwen sighed.

“Now, do you have a phone I could use?” Mare Do Well asked. “I want to call the cops before the ponies outside wake up.”

“I never thought I’d see the day when half a crime family was in cuffs all at once,” Officer Beeswax said, shaking her head. “We had to bring two carts just to have room to carry all of them.”

“The one in the fancy suit is Crimson Stream, not sure about the rest,” Mare Do Well said. “They’ll probably tell you once they wake up.”

“The filly they were holding hostage already made a statement, so we finally have something on them that’s going to stick.” Officer Beeswax smiled. “I’m feeling pretty lucky. They might even be denied bail.”

“And the egg?” Mare Do Well asked.

“That one’s going to have to get shipped somewhere else,” Beeswax said. “I don’t want it in my evidence room. There are too many cops that I trust right up until there’s the score of a lifetime right in front of them, you know?”

“I know,” Mare Do Well said.

“If I were you, I’d get it sent to Canterlot. They can keep it safe and send word to the Dragonlord to deal with it.”

The costumed hero nodded. “It’s better if it’s out of the city. Less temptation for everypony involved.”

“You want to tell me why, exactly, these guys are so far from Union Square, anyway?” Beeswax asked. “Don’t get me wrong, I like being able to slap cuffs on them, but this is pretty far from their territory. I get they were after the egg, but…”

“Someone’s dumb kid stole the egg from them. Don’t worry. I think they learned their lesson.”

“You’re kidding,” Loopy said. “Explain this to me one more time.”

“Well, when we sent the egg to Canterlot, it turned out that there was a big finder’s fee,” Bon-Bon said. “We tried to refuse, but dragons equate gold and honor, so there was no way to do it without offending a lot of ponies.”

“Okay, I get that so far.”

“And Lyra heard about what happened off the record, and you know how she is.”

“She gets really excited by things,” Loopy sighed, rubbing the bridge of her snout.

“And when she realized what we could do with all those bits…” Bon-Bon gave Loopy an embarrassed grin. “I owed her an anniversary present anyway, so how could I say no? I mean, they were looking to sell anyway, and it was a good deed!”

“Can we keep her?!” Lyra begged, her tail wagging like a dog. “Please?”

Jasmine Jewel saluted. “I promise to be the best secret agent money can buy! Just promise me I won’t have to sing?”

“We can set up her stage down here so she can charge up, and she can help Bon-Bon with all the paperwork and she’ll look really cute in a suit and we basically saved her from slavery as a pop idol!” Lyra said breathlessly. “We can’t just abandon her now!”

“I don’t really get any say in this, do I?” Loopy sighed.

“If it helps, I want to be here,” Jasmine said. “They told me I could go anywhere in Equestria, and this is what I chose.”

“Gwen is going to kill me,” Loopy groaned.

Forget Me Not, Part 1

“Good evening Seasaddle! This is your favorite radio operator gracing the airwaves and here to listen to all your stories, all your worries, and all your woes. It’s currently twenty-two past eleven and things are a beautiful sixty degrees at ground level, but it might be a little more drafty if you’re lurking in the upper reaches of our city’s beautiful garden of glass and steel. As always there’s a one hundred percent chance of rain, but there are rumors it might be intermittent, so you might be able to rest your hooves and put your umbrellas down for a few minutes if you’re getting tired of carrying around your own little spot of shelter. Let’s open it up to our listeners - what can you tell us about your evening, Mare Do Well?”

“Jasmine,” Loopy sighed. “This isn’t exactly what I was expecting when Bon-Bon said she was going to have you be the radio operator.”

She looked around the rooftop she was standing on. It was an apartment block whose lowest floors were occupied by several competing corner shops and a few very specific businesses trying to make a living in lots the size of a walk-in closet - locksmiths, food stalls with exactly one thing on the menu, a souvenir T-shirt stand, and, oddly, one of those places where you could pick out things to get them engraved with somepony’s name.

The only thing up on top of the apartment block with her was HVAC equipment and a hockey net somepony had set up to take advantage of some of the city’s rare flat space. She couldn’t shake a strange feeling and darted around the AC unit to peer into the shadows it was casting, narrowing her eyes. There wasn’t even a stray cat lurking in the shade.

“Am I doing a good job?” she asked. “I used to listen to the radio a lot to pick up on the latest trends, so I think I’ve got a pretty good idea of what most of the talk stations were like. If you want, I could put on some soft jazz. It’s very calming.”

“That’s… actually tempting,” Loopy admitted. “I could use something to calm me down.” She hopped across the way to the next building over. “I can’t shake this weird feeling that somepony is watching me, but--”

Loopy spun around without warning, trying to catch somepony looking, but all she saw was empty rooftop.

“--Nopony’s there,” she muttered.

“Don’t worry,” Jasmine said. “Nothing bad will happen while I’m here to help!”

Loopy smiled under her mask. “Yeah. You’re a good luck charm.”

“So how about that jazz? I’ve got a few records I can queue up.”

“Belay that for a second,” Loopy said. She heard something below her and stepped over to the side of the roof. A mare was backed into a corner against a chain-link fence stretched across the alleyway, and a stallion was right in front of her with what looked like a length of lead pipe and a lot of bad attitude. “I think I just found something else to occupy me.”

Loopy took a deep breath and jumped off the roof, narrowing her eyes and getting into character. She dropped down right between the two ponies, her cape and hat obscuring her silhouette into a confusing mass, right until she stood up and gave the stallion with a lead pipe and, now that she was close enough to sense it, the desperate hunger of an addict, a glare that stopped him where he was standing.

“What do you think you’re doing in my town?” Mare Do Well growled. “Drop the pipe. Now!”

The stallion looked at the pipe in his hoof like he hadn’t even noticed it before. The fire escape above them squealed in the wind, and that set the stallion off like the starting bell of a boxing match. He threw himself at Mare Do Well. It was totally inexpert, like he’d never even gotten into a fight in school before. Mare Do Well ducked aside, almost slipping. Her leg suddenly cramped up, and he nearly hit her, dropping the lead pipe and stumbling forwards.

“I must be getting old,” Mare Do Well mumbled. She jumped to the wall, then right at the mugger, but somehow misjudged the trajectory, missing and landing roughly, her ribs and jaw sore. She got up, confused, and rubbed her nose.

“Are you okay?” the mare behind her asked. That was just humiliating.

“Better than he is,” Mare Do Well said. She kicked the pipe on the ground, sending it bouncing into the stallion’s temple and dropping him. “Hah. Still got it.”

“Was he a professional boxer?” Jasmine asked, gently cleaning Loopy’s scrapes with something considerably more gentle than the iodine Lyra used. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you get beaten up like that.”

“Give it some time,” Bon-Bon said, from where she was going through paperwork. “‘Loop d’Loop’ and ‘requiring medical attention’ are like peanut butter and jelly. Two great flavors that go great together.”

“We still don’t have a plan for what to do if she ends up really seriously injured,” Lyra said. “Somepony refuses to go to a real doctor, which definitely won’t cause problems in the long run.”

“I don’t even know how he hit me this hard,” Loopy said. “I don’t remember him hitting me at all!”

“Hopefully the armored suit will help with that, if you can get it working,” Lyra said.

“If I can get it to like me, you mean,” Loopy sighed.

“A good start might be to get your mind off things and stop moping around,” Jasmine noted. “Now, I’m not an expert, but I know a little something about stress from overwork. I sort of lived with that stress for, you know, most of my life.”

“Point taken,” Loopy said. “You think I’m working too hard.”

“Working too hard, sometimes alone, after turning off your radio and refusing to tell us all the details of what happened,” Bon-Bon noted.

“Why don’t you go out and do something fun?” Jasmine suggested. “Just let things ride for one night. If something serious crops up, we can radio you, but the city can live without you on patrol for one night.”

“And I was your first choice?” Whisper West asked.

“I owe you a few drinks after the hostage situation,” Loopy said. “Besides, I want to think we can be friends even outside of my work.”

“You had me at ‘going to buy me drinks’,” Whisper said. “Thanks for letting me choose the bar.” Malus Malus was all polished wood and green details. It was a nicer bar than Loopy would have expected for this part of town. The crowd was half professional drinkers, half upper-class ponies slumming it a little in an authentic Seasaddle pub.

“You’ve got better taste than I do,” Loopy said, looking around. It was fancy enough that Loopy felt a little underdressed without a dress or jewelry, but not so fancy that they’d kick a pony out for arriving au natural. The drinks menu was all fancy cocktails with ingredients Loopy could barely pronounce.

She looked up at Whisper helplessly.

“Speaking of good taste, I don’t suppose…?”

“I’ll order for you,” Whisper said, patting her shoulder. “Excuse me, bartender? Two martini aux pommes.”

“What are those?” Loopy asked.

“You’ll like them,” Whisper promised. “So how have you been holding up? Bon-Bon seemed worried about you.”

“I had a rough night,” Loopy admitted. “I don’t know if I wasn’t paying enough attention or if I was just unlucky.” She turned around to look behind her.

“What’s wrong?” Whisper asked.

“I don’t know,” Loopy said. “I’ve just had this weird feeling for the last few nights like somepony is watching me.”

Whisper glanced around. “I don’t see anything strange.”

Loopy sighed. “Yeah, I think I’m just paranoid. Too much weird stuff has happened over the last couple of months.”

“It really has been a lot of weird stuff, huh?” Whisper said. The drinks were placed in front of them. Loopy took an experimental sip. It tasted like somepony had made gin out of apples and then mixed it with cider. “Did you ever figure out all the connections?”

“What connections?” Loopy asked.

Whisper rolled her eyes. “Really? The connections between all your cases! Like… the attack on PrinTecca. They were trying to destroy their synthetic pony project, right? But why? And then a mysterious synthetic pony tries to steal the Etherite that was seized by the police after you busted a child labor operation! The same pony must be behind all of that!”

“Okay, yes, maybe, but we still don’t know for sure why they wanted to destroy the synthetic ponies PrinTecca was developing,” Loopy said. “And nopony knows what the Etherite is for.”

“I actually looked into that,” Whisper said.

Loopy raised an eyebrow.

“I’m a professional author,” Whisper reminded her. “I’m used to doing a lot of esoteric research. You should have seen me trying to get a maximum lifting capacity for military-grade airships. It’s classified and gets you put on a list if you ask too much.”

“But I bet you found an answer.”

“Around seventeen tons of live load,” Whisper said. “And it turns out Etherite does have some interesting properties. For one thing, it can enhance cutie mark magic, but once it’s used, it gets locked to that cutie mark.”

“That must be why they had foals mining it,” Loopy muttered. “They didn’t have their marks yet, so they wouldn’t contaminate it.”

“And why they’d send a machine to get it back,” Whisper agreed. “No cutie mark there, either.”

“It makes sense,” Loopy admitted. She picked up her glass and for a second, she thought she saw something in the reflection. She turned, but nopony was there. “Anyway, I should be relaxing, not thinking about work.”

“Good point. So, is it true you started dating someone?” Whisper asked, grinning and leaning on the bar.

Loopy almost spat out her drink. “What?! Where did you--”

A pony shoved her from behind. She scowled and turned to find one of the rougher members of the crowd glaring down at her.

“You spilled my drink,” he snarled. The cheap beer staining his front seemed to confirm that, except for the small detail that Loopy hadn’t gotten out of her seat since she’d arrived.

“You have the wrong pony,” Loopy said. She rubbed her nose. It was oddly sore again, like she’d bumped it against something. “I didn’t spill your drink, but if it’ll make you happy, I’ll buy you a beer even though you’re not my type.”

“Then who else did it?” the pony snapped, motioning around them. The rest of the bar was packed, but there was enough empty space around them that it felt like they were practically being shunned.

He probably did it himself since he’s such a big idiot.

“You probably did it yourself since you’re such a big idiot!” Loopy yelled back. “I offered to buy you a beer because I was feeling nice, but now you can buy your own swill!”

The stallion snarled and threw a punch. Loopy tossed her drink in his face, which wouldn’t have done much except she threw the glass, too. That distracted him enough that his hoof went wide, and she ducked under it, slipping off her seat and--

--And falling on her face, her legs just giving out from under her, ankles feeling like she’d sprained them without noticing.

“Loopy?” Whisper asked. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m still under the weather,” Loopy grumbled. “Maybe I should have gone for a massage instead of drinks.”

The angry stallion glared down at her and stomped. Loopy ignored the sore spots on her legs and ribs, wondered how she’d hurt herself so badly falling out of a chair that it felt like she’d cracked her carapace, and grabbed his hoof on its way down, shoving it up and knocking him back and off-balance, stumbling into a table.

Several more drinks got spilled. He’d only jostled the table but every single glass tipped over, right into the lap of its owner. The entire table got up to glare at Loopy.

Loopy got up and brushed herself off. “Okay. I can see where this is going.” She sighed and raised her hoof, motioning for them to come and get her. “Let’s do this.”

“You’re looking at battery, destruction of property, public disturbance, failure to pay a debt…” Detective Arabica sighed. “Did you have to throw them behind the bar? The top-shelf liquor you destroyed is worth more than my entire paycheck.”

“What do you mean failure to pay a debt?” Loopy asked.

“You didn’t pay your open tab,” Arabica said.

“Oh. Well, it wasn’t that much. I only ordered one drink, and then poured one for the road before you all showed up to take us away.” Loopy shrugged and sat back in the holding cell. “Look, I explained this already, I was acting in self-defense. All the damage was caused by the stallions who decided they had to show how brave they were by taking it out on an innocent little mare like me.”

“Innocent,” Arabica raised an eyebrow. “You took down a bar full of stallions on your own.”

“Innocent, not helpless.”

“And free,” Bon-Bon sighed. She walked in and gave Detective Arabica a bundle of paperwork. “Here. Her bail is paid. Loop d’Loop is an idiot, but she’s a free idiot.”

Arabica didn’t even look at the papers. “The bartender is pressing charges, and so are the ponies she ‘self-defended’ herself against. They all claim she started the fight. She’s free until her court date, and after that she’s going to need a decent lawyer.”

“SMILE will investigate it as an internal matter,” Bon-Bon said. “Thank you for your cooperation.”

“You get spooky when you’re acting professional,” Loopy said. Jasmine was looking her injuries over, shaking her head and sighing at every bruise and chip in the changeling’s chitin. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you that angry.”

“What were you thinking?” Bon-Bon asked. “Starting a fight in a bar? Getting arrested?! The least you could have done was try to get away without leaving a police record!”

“I didn’t do anything wrong!” Loopy snapped. She groaned and sat back. “Buck, I feel like I slept in a concrete mixer.”

“Maybe you needed more rest than we thought,” Jasmine said. “Is there anyone you could talk to? Maybe you need some kind of special changeling medicine.”

“We could contact King Thorax and see if he knows anything,” Bon-Bon muttered. “But first we have to keep Loopy out of prison. She’s looking at two to five years, even with a plea bargain.”

“Well, I’ve got just the thing!” Lyra said, bouncing down the stairs. “I sweet-talked the bartender and got us a copy of the security footage.” She held up the tape. “We’re going to be able to figure out what really happened!”

“Good,” Loopy said. “You can see that I’m telling the truth. And then we’ll show the police, and we can make this stupid thing go away.”

Lyra started setting the tape up.

“If we can get out of this without having to beg for money from the budget to settle legal fees, I’ll be happy,” Bon-Bon sighed. “The home office already thinks we’re sort of the black sheep of the family.”

“You’re only saying that because we work out of the sewers, we have almost no personnel, and our main mission is keeping a vigilante on the right side of the law,” Lyra quipped. “Here we go! I just wish we had popcorn!”

The screen buzzed to life, and grainy black-and-white footage started playing. Lyra started working the controls, fast-forwarding.

“You two come in around… here,” Lyra said, putting the playback to normal speed. Loopy saw herself at the bar, sipping on a drink. Behind her, the stallion whose drink she’d been accused of spilling was looking away from her and suddenly stood, his drink knocked over into his lap.

“See? I wasn’t near him when his drink spilled,” Loopy said. “It just tipped over on its own.”

“Um…” Jasmine hesitated.

“What’s wrong?” Loopy asked.

“Nothing,” Jasmine said, shaking her head. “Sorry.”

“Anyway, you can see it all, I barely did anything,” Loopy said. “Maybe I was a little enthusiastic about things, but I didn’t throw the first punch. I was too busy falling on my butt like an idiot. Then when the others joined in, it was a brawl, and I was just trying to avoid getting hurt. I wish I’d done a better job at it.”

“It’s weird how their drinks all spilled like that,” Lyra noted. “The table must have been wobbly.”

“...Are you feeling okay?” Jasmine asked, concerned.

“Huh?”

“Well, it’s just… what about him?” Jasmine pointed to empty space.

“Him who?” Loopy asked. “There’s nopony there.”

“No, there’s a pony standing there,” Jasmine said. “Rewind the tape a little.”

Lyra raised her eyebrows and did what she asked.

“Okay, play it from here,” Jasmine said. “He’s walking in behind you.” She pointed to empty space with her hoof and followed it to the bar. “Now he’s spilling the stallion’s drink. He just pushes it right into his lap, but the stallion doesn’t even notice. Then he slapped you across the face, but you acted like he wasn’t there.”

“What…?” Loopy touched her sore nose.

“When you got off the stool, he kicked your ankles to make you fall, then when you were on the ground he hit you in the ribs a couple of times, but you don’t even look at him! Then he went over to this table and spilled everypony’s drinks…”

“There’s nopony there!” Loopy said.

“I don’t see anypony either,” Bon-Bon agreed. “Lyra?”

“It’s just empty space,” the unicorn said. “What do you see, Jasmine?”

Jasmine grabbed a pad and a pencil and started sketching. “I’m not much of an artist,” she said. “And the tape isn’t very good. But basically, he looks kind of like this.”

She turned the paper around to show a one-eyed, thin pony, wearing bits of armor and a black hoodie.

Forget Me Not, Part 2

“Okay, back up the tape,” Jasmine said. She watched the screen intently. “Yeah, he’s here, too. He spilled the coffee on you in the corner shop.”

“I thought I was just really unlucky and clumsy,” Loopy mumbled. “So Pest Control has been stalking me for days, just messing with me? Why?”

“It’s what you get for buying coffee there,” Lyra said. “They make it in the morning and let it sit all day. It tastes like hot garbage.”

“I’m sure you’d love it if it was blended with ice and caramel,” Bon-Bon snorted.

“Well… maybe,” Lyra admitted. “It would go a long way. Maybe some chocolate syrup...”

“Girls, can we focus on the invisible killer stalking me?” Loopy asked. “I’m lucky he hasn’t just decided to pull out a knife and finish the job!”

“He’s not invisible,” Lyra corrected. “Look at the tape of the crowd on the street.” She swapped tapes to show Loopy. “Now, we can’t see him at all, and it doesn’t seem like anypony in the crowd can see him either, but when you watch the crowd, there’s an empty spot that they all walk around.”

“So they can’t see him, but they still walk around him?” Loopy asked.

“And if he was invisible, I couldn’t see him,” Jasmine added. “It must be some kind of… censoring. Like a blind spot that only affects ponies.”

“You’re just different enough to be immune,” Lyra said. “Whatever magic he’s using, it doesn’t work on you. It doesn’t work on the cameras, either -- that’s why he’s still on the tapes.”

“Not to mention I’d notice if an invisible pony was punching me,” Loopy said. “Jasmine, you said he was punching and kicking me in the bar?”

She nodded, looking a little sick. “It was… he was really angry. He just wanted to hurt you.”

“I couldn’t tell. I just suddenly started hurting. I should have felt the impact, even if I didn’t know where it was coming from. It was more like I just suddenly was already hurting, and I couldn’t remember how I’d twisted my ankle, or how I’d hurt my snout.”

“That must be it,” Lyra said. “It has to affect memory! He’s got some kind of magic that’s erasing your memory as quickly as it’s made! You could look right at him, but you’ll forget what you’re seeing. Maybe you even recognize him for a second, but then it kicks in and you don’t remember what you were worried about.”

Loopy nodded slowly. “Is that why I’ve been feeling paranoid?”

“If the spell was designed to work on ponies, maybe it’s not a hundred percent effective on you. You almost break free, but then it snaps back on, and you can remember being worried or on alert, but not why.”

“Great. So what do we do about it?” Loopy asked. “Jasmine could follow me around with a club and beat Pest Control into paste when she spots him.”

“I can’t hurt ponies like that,” Jasmine said, holding up her hooves. “I just can’t. I don’t know if it’s my programming, or… I just don’t want to. I think even if it was programming, I wouldn’t want to be the kind of pony that hurts somepony like that.”

“That’s fine,” Bon-Bon said, putting a hoof on her shoulders. “Nopony should have to fight if they don’t want to. We really appreciate everything you’re doing already.”

“If it wasn’t for you seeing him, we’d be clueless about what was happening,” Loopy agreed. “We just need to come up with some kind of plan on how to actually catch him.”

“I think the first step is going to be using Philtrum’s suit,” Lyra said, pointing to the armored suit in its glass case. “It’s armored. If he does come at you with a knife, it’ll keep you from getting killed.”

“Professor Valley said it was sort of alive and uses the same technology as Jasmine,” Loopy said. “Maybe it’ll be able to do something. If I can get it to like me.”

“You’re a very likable pony,” Jasmine assured her.

“Yeah well, last time I tried wearing the suit, nothing worked properly and I almost got killed by a crazy pony with a magical chainsaw.”

“There’s one good thing about all this,” Bon-Bon said. She got up to pull out a map of the city and spread it out on the table. “He’s been following you instead of trying to lure you out into some kind of trap. He was mostly dangerous last time you fought him because he had time to prepare and lure you into what we in the business call a kill-box.”

“You’ve lured ponies into kill-boxes?”

“The term still applies even if you’re not using lethal force,” Bon-Bon said primly. “The important thing is, you can lure him anywhere you want. That means we can set up our own trap for him. Before he escalates to using lethal force, hopefully.”

“How are we supposed to even know we have him?” Loopy asked.

“I’ve got an idea,” Lyra said.

“Just act natural,” Lyra advised. “Until you get into the zone, we don’t have reliable overwatch.”

“Using all sorts of advanced tactical terms now,” Loopy muttered. She’d been doing a slow, loose patrol around the city. Partly it was to make it easier for Pest Control to follow her, but it was mostly because she was attempting to feel out the armor.

“How does the suit feel?” Lyra asked.

“Well, it hasn’t tried to kill me yet, but I still think it doesn’t like me much. This would be a lot easier if I could sense its emotions. Who builds armor that needs to be befriended?”

“Hey, my Mom knew what she was doing,” Jasmine cut in. “She probably wanted to make sure it couldn’t be used by the wrong kind of pony. Um, Mrs. Armor, if you can hear me, trust me, Loop d’Loop is a good pony and you should help her out!”

“Thanks, Jasmine,” Loopy sighed. “I hope your little sister listens to you.”

“Think you’ve shown the colors enough?” Bon-Bon asked. “We’re not the most popular guests, and our hosts are not terribly happy we’ve basically shut them down all day. Everything is in place.”

“The police know what we’re doing?” Loopy asked.

“Don’t worry, they’re in on it. They don’t entirely believe our story, but they really want to catch the pony who tried to assassinate King Thorax.”

“Great. Let’s hit it.”

The police band came to life. It had been quiet chatter, officers reporting their locations and dispatch sending them to check out calls and make contact with ponies.

“Urgent report, we’ve got a silent alarm at the Seasaddle Second National Bank, all points converge on the SSNB, possible robbery and hostage situation in progress.”

“Sounds like a job for a pony who’s wearing a crazy suit and has more bruises than common sense,” Loopy said. She oriented herself for a moment and started moving more quickly, jumping from rooftop to rooftop.

The Seasaddle Second National Bank was at the base of a tower of finance and investment, literally. The Bank itself took up the lowest ten or so floors of a skyscraper, and the divide between the masonry of the base and the glass and steel of the upper reaches where insurance and investors looked down on the little ponies below was obscured by marble facing reaching up irregularly from the solid foundations like the stone was growing ivy-like over the modern building.

Loopy dropped down next to the front entrance and stopped, glancing in the door.

“We’ve got you on the security cameras,” Jasmine said. “You know, that suit looks really intimidating when it’s in motion like that.”

“Any sign of Pest Control?” Loopy asked.

“Don’t worry, the nice security ponies here at the bank showed me how to work everything,” Jasmine said. “It turns out one of them was a big fan! I autographed her poster, and she showed me how to switch feeds and zoom and everything!”

“Great,” Loopy said. “But do you see Pest Control?”

“I think so, but he’s keeping his distance,” Jasmine said. “The coverage isn’t great around the bank. You need to get him inside. Once you’re in, I can track him everywhere.”

“Copy that.” Loopy ducked through the doors.

The bank tellers and customers had been cleared out. Loopy hadn’t been in many banks -- leaving that kind of paperwork went against her instincts. She’d probably spent more time stopping robberies than waiting in line.

“He’s approaching the door,” Jasmine said.

“I love being bait,” Loopy muttered, looking around and waiting. “He’s going to realize something’s wrong when he comes in here and doesn’t see a robbery in progress. Get ready with the trap.”

“Don’t worry, our surprise is in place,” Bon-Bon promised.

“I just hope he breaks his hoof trying to sucker-punch me,” Loopy mumbled.

“He just walked in,” Jasmine said. Loopy resisted the urge to look back at the entrance. She knew she wouldn’t see anything anyway. “Wait, he’s pulling something out of that black hoodie he’s wearing… he’s got some kind of weapon!”

“What?” Loopy started to turn.

She looked right past Pest Control, her gaze just sliding off him. Loopy couldn’t see the glintlock in his hoof. She didn’t even see the flash when he pulled the trigger and shot her in the chest.

Jasmine cried out in alarm, and Loopy stumbled back and fell to the ground. Sparks crackled over the armor, and she lay there in a heap. There was a moment of silence, a space where a denouncement should have been if Loopy could have heard it. Then her cape moved on its own, snapping into rigidity and shoving something away.

“I guess you don’t hate me enough to let me get killed,” Loopy said, slowly standing. She looked at her chest. There was a small scuff mark, but no real damage, to herself or the armor. “Pest Control, I know you’re there somewhere. I can’t see you, but you can hear me. I want you to give up right now, and nopony has to get hurt. I’ll even be on my best behavior and not knock all your teeth out even though you kept messing with me.”

Jasmine gasped. “Mare Do Well, watch out! He’s--”

“Do not worry,” a new voice cut in. A white and red shape slammed down into the marble next to Loopy, hard enough to crack the floor with his weight. Steel Braver moved quickly, and behind Loopy, paperwork exploded off of one of the bank’s empty desks. "I have arrived!"

“Good to see you again,” Loopy said.

“I am very happy to help,” Steel Braver said, the synth’s glass screen giving her a neon smile. “How much force am I permitted to use against this pony?”

“In general, you want to avoid anything permanent. Just get the weapon away from him and try to restrain him. But be careful, he’s--”

Steel flinched, his face cracking.

“Sir, please calm down. If you shoot me again--” he didn’t get to finish what he was saying, instead adjusting his grip on, as far as Loopy could see, thin air. “Oh. He is somewhat stronger than he looks.”

“Can you hold onto him?”

“I am concerned I might damage him if I continue to--” There was an explosion, and Steel was flung back.

“Braver!” Loopy ran towards him, but her back legs froze up, and the suit moved. She tried to fight it.

“Go limp!” Jasmine ordered.

Loopy stopped fighting, and the suit moved, punching the air with her fist. The hoofblades tore into something, and just for a moment, Loopy saw him. Pest Control, outlined by the helmet’s enhanced imaging. He was scorched from whatever he’d done to Steel Braver, and Loopy was grabbing the hoodie he was wearing.

It faded, and Loopy felt her attention drifting. She’d been doing something, and--

“Don’t let go!” Jasmine said. “You’ve got him!”

“It’s hard to focus,” Loopy rasped. “It’s like a word on the tip of your tongue!”

A sound seemed to come from far away, more like something she was remembering or thinking to herself than something Loopy was hearing.

“...Won’t let you catch me!” the voice said. Loopy was almost knocked off her hooves by a sudden pull, and Pest Control appeared in front of her, bolting away. She was holding onto something, and it took a long few moments of feeling like she had static in her brain for Loopy to realize she was holding onto the hoodie he’d been wearing in the sketch Jasmine had drawn.

“There’s nowhere to go,” Loopy shouted. Pest Control got to the front door and looked outside. “The police have this place surrounded.”

Pest Control snarled and turned around. “You’re just using them like you use everypony else!”

“I’ve done a lot of things I regret, but at least I’ve never spilled somepony’s drink and blamed it on an innocent mare,” Loopy countered. “There’s no way out.”

“Wrong,” Pest Control said. He tossed a smoke grenade out and bolted in the other direction, jumping over the counter and into the back.

Loopy chased after him, the suit keeping the chemical haze from turning her into a helpless mess. Her hoofblades retracted when she landed on the wooden counter, delicate enough not to leave a scratch as she maneuvered the bulky suit. It was moving with her, but it slowed her down, the armor’s muscles taking a fraction of a second to respond properly to every move she made, making her lag behind what she intended to do.

She turned a corner and saw the employee entrance door swinging shut. Loopy ran for it, bursting outside.

“Hey there,” Gwen said. “Have you gotten a little taller since the last time I saw you?” The griffon smiled and adjusted the way she was sitting on the pony under her.

“Let me go!” Pest Control demanded.

“Hush,” Gwen said, stomping on him. “I’m not sure if you’re aware of this, but griffons are almost entirely made of knives. If you keep acting up you’re going to help me count how many there are, and you won’t like the way I do it.”

“I didn’t think you were coming,” Loopy said, a little out of breath. Running with the suit on had been a workout, stronger and faster but with unfamiliar resistance. She pulled a set of hoofcuffs from her belt and tossed them to Gwen. The griffon slipped them onto Pest Control, deliberately pulling his hooves into an uncomfortable position to do it.

“Jasmine called me up and asked, and how could I resist my big sister?” Gwen shrugged. “Family is important, and I wanted you to owe me one.”

Loopy smiled. “Maybe a nice dinner? Once this idiot is behind bars I can actually go out somewhere and not have to worry about getting dragged into a bar brawl.”

“It’s a start,” Gwen said.

“Loopy, we’re here!” Jasmine shouted. She spotted Gwen and ran over to hug her, stepping on Pest Control. “Gwen, you made it!”

“Always happy to help,” Gwen lied.

“I am in hot pursuit!” Steel Braver shouted, bursting out of the employee entrance. He spun in a circle and spotted everypony standing at ease, or at least being stood on with ease. “Oh. I see my assistance is not required.”

“No, you were a really big help,” Jasmine said. She stepped over to him and gave him a peck on the cheek. Steel blushed, his whole screen going red.

“Woah, woah, you can’t just flirt with my sister like that!” Gwen said. “I-- Mare Do Well, hold this loser down for a second, thank you--” she stepped over and pointed at Steel Braver. “I just got her out of a bad situation and I’m not gonna let her get caught up in anything!”

“She’s already working for the government, how much worse could it get?” Loopy asked.

“Oh, Gwen, come on,” Jasmine giggled. “I’ve just got a soft spot for the heroic types.”

“I was designed to be a hero,” Steel Braver agreed. “I am a heroic type! I am afraid I do not have any soft spots. My armor plating is made of a ceramic-titanium composite, and is extremely durable.”

“You know what I mean!”

“I do. I am making a small joke at my own expense.” Steel took Jasmine’s hoof. “You are quite extraordinary.”

“That is not okay,” Gwen muttered.

“Jealous?” Loopy asked. “You don’t have to answer. I am a changeling, after all.”

“And a monster,” Pest Control mumbled. “I won’t stop. No matter how many times you put me down, I’ll find a way out. I’ll escape. I’ll come after you. I’m going to save Equestria, because they can’t be fooled into thinking the thing eating them alive is their savior. Once they wake up--”

Loopy rolled her eyes. “I’ve heard it all before. Get some new material. Steel, when you’re done, would you mind taking this guy out to the police? They’ve been waiting very patiently and I’m sure they’d love to not be standing by in front of a bank and hoping it won’t explode.”

“Of course, Mare Do Well,” Steel Braver said. He snapped a salute. “Are you sure you want me to bring him to the police?”

“You deserve the credit for this one,” Loopy said. “You saved my flank in there. Besides, I’m sure Pest Control will be more cooperative if he thinks I’m not the one being praised for my heroics.”

“I’ll go with him,” Jasmine said. “To keep him company!”

Steel Braver picked the hoofcuffed villain up with one mighty hoof and walked off with him, Jasmine following along and looking pleased with herself.

“This is my big break into crime fighting,” Jasmine said, as they walked off. “I can’t wait!”

Smile Through It, Part 1

Beeswax fumbled with the keys to the holding cell. The Seasaddle Police Department was well-funded, but the Captain didn’t trust a lot of technology, which meant getting anything fancy or new was slow in coming. The cells could have come right out of a dungeon, all wrought-iron bars and stone walls. The locks were purely manual, which meant they were immune to the usual attempts of the local crowd to bypass security. They couldn’t be demagnetized or hacked or short-circuited. They could only be picked, and there weren’t a lot of ponies with the actual skills to do it in the city.

“You know, I envy her a little bit,” Officer Beeswax said. “Mare Do Well might be a loose cannon, but there’s something attractive about that, you know? Doing what you want and not having to answer to policy-- I SAID KEEP YOUR HOOVES WHERE I CAN SEE THEM, SCUMBAG!”

She was escorting three ponies wearing hoofcuffs and bruises. They all flinched at the yell. Arabica couldn’t blame them. It was the kind of yell that made ponies jump from across the street and got attention even when spells were flying and lives were at risk.

“But--” one of them tried to say, probably about to complain about his bruises.

“But nothing!” Beeswax shouted. “You held a train full of kids hostage! You should be happy all Mare Do Well did was knock you around!”

“Come on, Beeswax,” Arabica said. He pulled the holding cell door open and shoved the criminals inside. “The last thing you need is another write-up. These gentlestallions aren’t worth it, right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Beeswax sighed, slamming the door shut and locking it behind them. They walked out of the holding cell area, and its dungeonesque air, and into the cubicle maze that was the main floor of the department. “I just don’t like ponies that go around hurting kids. It’s something that bothers me personally.”

“It was resolved without any of the kids getting hurt,” Arabica said. “That’s about all we can ask for.”

“If that’s your standard of success, you need to start aiming higher.” A pony stood up from behind a low divider. “Detective Arabica. Officer Beeswax. I’d say it’s a pleasure to see you but I don’t like lying to the police.”

“What do you want, Amicus Brief?” Beeswax growled.

“The same thing any good lawyer wants,” he said, adjusting his expensive pinstripe suit and stepping around to shake Arabica’s hoof and very deliberately not shake Officer Beeswax’s. “I want to protect the legal rights and interests of my clients. I just picked up a few new clients, as a matter of fact.”

“New clients?” Arabica asked.

“I was asked to take on the stallions you just finished escorting to your holding cells,” he said. “Pro bono, of course.”

“I’m sure they’ll get what they paid for. I assume you’re going to tell them to plea guilty and throw themselves on the mercy of the court.”

Amicus Brief smiled crookedly. “A guilty plea is for quitters. If there was a decent plea bargain I might bring it to my clients, but no. I was going to take the case in another direction. Their civil rights have been violated, and I plan on fighting for them.”

“Their civil rights to rob a train?” Beeswax asked.

“They were summarily arrested by a vigilante who used what I’m sure an impartial physician will call excessive force,” Brief explained. “I’ve seen the results of Mare Do Well fighting crime, and it’s marked in broken bodies and ponies scared of their own shadows.”

“She’s a licensed government employee,” Arabica shrugged. “She has a badge and files her paperwork in a timely manner. If you want to take this on, you need to be aware that her arrests are made within the law, and the three stallions sitting in our holding cell were posing a clear and present danger to others. Even if she was purely a civilian she would have been in her rights to stop and restrain them.”

“We’ll see what a judge says,” Amicus said. “I know the judges here in Seasaddle pretty well, and none of them like police brutality. You’re held to a higher standard. I think most of you do extremely well at holding to that standard, but Mare Do Well is a blind spot. There’s no direct oversight. She doesn’t answer to anypony. Who reviews her actions? How can a concerned citizen show that they don’t want to worry about being brutalized for jaywalking? We can’t vote her out. We can’t ask her superiors to take action.”

“Actually, I know what you can do,” Beeswax said. “See what you can do is, you take your concerns and write them down in detail. We don’t have a form for it, but I think a general statement or complaint form would be fine. Then you fold it in half, and you shove it right up your--”

“Officer Beeswax,” Arabica interrupted. “That’s enough. I’m sure Amicus has to go talk to his new clients and find out all about how he’s going to defend them in court when they tried to derail a train full of foals on a field trip. I don’t envy him.”

“That’s why you’re a detective and I’m a lawyer,” Amicus smiled. “You try and find guilty ponies, and I try to find innocent ones. Keep up the good work.”

He trotted off, grabbing a briefcase on the way.

“Those three never made a phone call,” Beeswax whispered, when the lawyer was out of earshot. “They didn’t hire him.”

“No, they didn’t,” Arabica agreed. “I don’t think it’s anything sinister. Brief wants to make a big name for himself. He’s been trying to angle himself into every case involving Mare Do Well for the last month.”

“Why?” Beeswax asked.

“Because it’s good advertising, I suppose.” Arabica shrugged. “I’ll let you get to your job. It looks like Mason Plate wants you for something.” He pointed behind her.

Beeswax turned to see the Sergeant waving her down.

“Figures,” Beeswax sighed. “I was supposed to be off duty an hour ago.”

“Just think of all that great overtime pay,” Arabica said, smiling and patting her shoulder before walking away.

Beeswax shook her head and grumbled, walking up to Sergeant Plate and preparing herself for several hours of paperwork or a surprise call halfway across the city.

“What’s up?” she asked.

“I’ve got some bad news,” Mason said. “You remember last year when you helped bust that ring that was selling pills?”

“How could I forget? They used factory seconds and ran production lines off-the-books while they were hopped up on their own product. A couple kids died because they screwed up the manufacture.”

“You remember the pony in charge? The one you personally took down?”

Beeswax smiled a little at the memory. “Course I do. Rubber Croc. He almost got away but I was watching the back door on a hunch and got him before he even made it through the doorway. I think I broke his jaw in two places. He looked real pretty when he went to court and couldn’t even talk properly.”

“Yeah. And he’s back out on the streets.”

Beeswax sputtered with rage. “What?! How?! He pled guilty! He was sentenced to twenty years, and even if he got time off for pretending to be a good little pony--”

“His lawyer was able to convince a judge that excessive force was used, and that no paperwork for the arrest was ever filed.”

“Bucking impossible. I filled out the forms myself! What slimy little urchin-- it was that bucking Amicus Brief, wasn’t it? That’s why he wouldn’t shake my hoof!”

“Look, just watch your back, okay?” Mason said quietly. “You know Croc holds a grudge, and I heard the prison dental work he got after you broke his jaw didn’t improve his attitude none.”

“I’ll watch my back, and I’ll watch his bucking front. I should go arrest him right now -- I bet he’s already knees-deep in something!”

“You’re not doing anything for the next week at least,” Sergeant Plate said. “The Captain told me to tell you you’re taking a week of vacation. No badge, no bothering Rubber Croc, just until everything can be checked out on our end.”

“I am not--”

“And he told me if you argue too much, that vacation is gonna be a lot longer and it won’t be paid.”

“But--”

“Your shift ended an hour ago,” Mason said, smiling sadly. “Get out of here and go get yourself a decent meal. Get your mind off things.”

“I can’t remember the last time I came down here,” Detective Arabica sighed. “It must have been a while, because I haven’t had to buy the special shampoo to get the fish smell out of my mane.”

“The docks aren’t that bad, Detective,” Officer Boudin laughed. “It’s a quiet part of town to patrol. No domestic disturbances, you know? Mostly Jambon and I spend the night chasing strays away from garbage cans.”

“And leading drunken sailors back to their captains,” Officer Jambon added. “Remember the one who thought you were an escort?”

“Hey, I told you we weren’t talking about that ever again!” Boudin warned.

“It’ll be more exciting tonight,” Arabica promised. “You get to help me serve a search warrant. You two haven’t spent so much time with strays that you forgot how warrants work, right?”

“Come on, Detective, we do our part,” Jambon said. “We know this place, and these ponies. Why don’t you let us take care of things? A lot of ponies around here, they get scared by new faces. If we’re alone, maybe we’ll find something you wouldn’t.”

“Thanks, but I’d rather take care of this myself,” Arabica said. “You two are just backup, no offense.”

“I’d love to say ‘none taken’,” Boudin sighed.

“Captain Blanc wants me to get to the bottom of the Black Khat smuggling that’s been going on. You two know what that is?”

“It’s, uh…” Jambon thought for a second. “Some kind of plant, right?”

“Khat leaves are a stimulant, like coffee but more addictive. Black Khat is three times stronger and much more dangerous.” Arabica pulled the warrant from his coat and knocked on the warehouse door. “We’re going to take a look around and see if things here are on the level.”

The intercom next to the door buzzed.

“What do you want?” came the tinny voice.

“This is Detective Arabica of the Seasaddle PD. Could you please open the door? We’d like to come inside, ask you a few questions, and take a look around.”

“And I’d like you to go pound sand, so tough luck.”

“Only one of us is going to get what they want and my warrant says that person is me,” Arabica said. “You can open the door, or I can open it, and you won’t like what happens if I’m the pony that has to crack it open.”

There was a long pause. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” the voice mumbled. There was an electric tone as the door buzzed open.

“Thanks for your cooperation,” Arabica said sarcastically.

“Paid vacation,” Beeswax mumbled into her glass. “Taking my badge away and telling me to go drown my sorrows while scumbags like Rubber Croc are out on the street. It ain’t fair!” She slammed her empty glass down.

“Careful,” the bartender rumbled. “I don’t want to pick broken glass out of anypony’s hoof.”

“Yeah well I’d have to cut the hoof off with how dirty your glasses are,” Beeswax countered. “Give me another.”

“You sure about that? With how dirty my glasses are maybe you’ll end up on sick leave instead of being suspended for whatever it was you did,” the bartender said. He was already pouring her drink, pink gin and shaved ice with grenadine. When he set it in front of Beeswax she took it and glared at him while she took a long drag.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Beeswax said, firmly. “Somepony in records must have bucked up.” She took a second long sip, finishing the rest of her drink. “You know what they told me when I went down to yell at them? They told me the warrant to arrest Croc never got filed, and that’s bucking impossible.”

“Slow down on the gin,” the bartender warned. “You’re drinking like you’re trying to win a contest.”

“Even if it wasn’t filed, what about everything else? We had his financial records, all the factories he was scamming, the pushers he was dealing to…” She huffed. “Gone like it never existed. I could get a dozen ponies to swear they’d seen ‘em but apparently that’s not good enough! Bucking appeals court my flank!”

“Okay, that’s it, I’m cutting you off,” the bartender said. “You’re angry, and the gin is making it worse. Go for a walk. Cool down. You can come back tomorrow when you’re thinking a little more clearly.”

“Eh, buck you too,” Beeswax said, getting to her hooves and pushing away from the bar, wobbling a little bit with each step.

“And when you come back, bring bits to pay your tab!”

“Thank you for talking to me while my officers take a look around,” Arabica said, sitting down across from the warehouse manager. The pony seemed nervous, which was only natural when the police showed up with a warrant.

“We’re always happy to cooperate with the SPD,” the manager said. He was a mild-looking pony that seemed entirely made of sweat and balding spots. “I’m not sure what you’re hoping to find, unless you really want fresh mangos. Some of the locals go crazy for them!”

“I do like mango,” Arabica admitted. “When we’ve got all this sorted out I’d be happy to buy a few.”

The manager laughed. “If you don’t mind the ones we’d have to throw out for being oddly-shaped, I’ll give you a bag for free. It saves us from having to throw them away. The grocery stores don’t like it when they’re not perfect looking.”

“I hope you’re not trying to bribe me,” Arabica teased. He stood up. “You don’t have a pot of coffee on somewhere, do you? If not, it’s fine, I don’t want to be here long enough for you to brew anything fresh.”

“Oh sure, let me just get you a cup,” the manager said. He got up and practically ran into the next room. Arabica waited a moment, then stepped over to the vacated desk, flipping quickly through the paperwork on it.

He froze when he saw it. A leaf, between the pages. A khet leaf. He pocketed it.

“I hope you don’t mind black coffee,” the manager said, walking back into the room. “We don’t have any creamer left.”

“No, it’s fine that way,” Arabica said, trying to look like he’d just been pacing. “Thank you.”

The door to the office opened, and Jambon and Boudin stepped in from the factory floor.

“Anything?” Arabica asked.

“Nothing strange,” Boudin shrugged. “Except for big spiders. Apparently, they hide in the mangos during shipping. They got a bunch in jars if you wanna see them.”

“I’ll pass. Thank you again for your time,” Arabica said, keeping his voice level. “Officer Jambon, Officer Boudin, I think we’re done here.”

The manager got back behind his desk and looked at the shuffled papers. He looked past Arabica at Jambon and Boudin, and the two uniformed officers sighed.

“You found something, huh?” Boudin asked.

“Just some bad coffee,” Arabica lied.

“I had a sample on my desk. It’s gone,” the manager said.

Jambon stepped up to Arabica and reached into the Detective’s jacket, maintaining eye contact with him and pulling the leaf free.

“I think he got curious,” Jambon said. He held the leaf up.

“You should have let us take care of things on our own,” Boudin said. “You could have gone home early and nopony would have had a problem. Now we’ve gotta figure out what to do with you.”

“Let’s bring him to the boss,” Jambon said.

“So, no free mangos, then?” Arabica asked.

Beeswax leaned against the brick wall, which probably wasn’t the smartest thing considering how filthy the masonry looked, but she needed some kind of support and the wall wasn’t going to complain if she threw up on it.

“Maybe I had a little too much gin after all,” she muttered.

“Hey there, hot stuff,” a pony behind her said. “You look like somepony who wants to go dancing.”

“The last thing I want to do right now is jump around and listen to dubstep,” Beeswax groaned. “Go find somepony else.”

“No, I don’t think so,” the pony said.

The pony grabbed her fetlock and pulled her away from the wall. Beeswax stumbled into him.

“Hey! What the buck do you think you’re doing?!” she yelled, glaring up at him. The stallion smiled down at her.

“Rubber Croc sends his regards,” the stallion said. “He wanted to come and take you out for a dance himself, but he’s busy and had to send us instead.”

“Rubber Croc?” Beeswax asked, understanding slowly dawning. “Aw, buck.” She looked behind the stallion and saw a couple more stallions, all of them with various interesting clubs and bludgeons and looking eager to use them.

“Yeah,” the stallion smirked. “Don’t worry. He doesn’t want you dead. You won’t enjoy this much, though.”

Beeswax struck first, kicking the stallion in the chest. He lost his grip on her hoof, and she used the impact of the kick to push forwards, bolting away and trying to escape the crowd. She made it a few steps and immediately slammed into a garbage can, knocking it over and taking a fall, head over hooves, landing in a heap.

“Where’s a hero when I really need one?” Beeswax asked, picking herself up. “Mare Do Well, I’ve never asked for anything, but if you show up right now I’ll plant a big wet kiss on your mask…”

Smile Through It, Part 2

Detective Arabica had about a month of vacation saved up. He didn’t go out much -- it wasn’t that work was his life, but that he usually enjoyed his job. He liked going around the city, helping ponies, and having enough authority to make decisions on his own without asking permission for everything.

He promised himself that if he got out of this, he was going to take that entire month and go somewhere relaxing.

Three ponies frog-marched him up the gangplank to a massive cargo ship docked behind the mango-filled warehouse. Maybe if he’d been a little more observant before he would have noticed that there were two ships, and only one of them was parked near a crane, and maybe he would have asked the dockmaster about when they actually entered and left port. But if he’d been observant he probably wouldn’t have bruises from two officers getting a paycheck from whatever gangster owned the place, and they wouldn’t be two of the three ponies prodding him onboard.

A pony was standing at the top, wearing a suit that was too nice to be rained on. Thankfully, he had another pony standing by with an umbrella in hoof to shield him, just to prove he had the money to pay somepony to do it.

“So, we’ve got ourselves a little troublemaker,” the pony said. When he spoke, Arabica caught a flash of gold.

“I’m just shocked mangos are such serious business around here,” Arabica quipped. “I’m guessing you’re the pony in charge? The manager in the warehouse was a little too nervous to actually do anything ambitious.”

“You’re bucking right about that,” the suited pony said. He grinned. His teeth were golden fangs, like a gilded wolf. “That’s why he’s useful. Pony like that ain’t got no ideas of his own, so he does what he’s told. Too bad you ain’t as smart as he is. If you did what you was told, you wouldn’t be in this situation.”

“No, but I get to meet so many interesting ponies,” Arabica said. “I didn’t catch your name. I’m Detective Arabica, Seasaddle Police Department, a pony who filed out a lot of paperwork about where he was going and what he was doing before he even left the house. And you are?”

“Rubber Croc. And unfortunately for you, I’m a pony that knows how to make problems go away, and you, Detective, are a problem tonight.”

“I like the teeth. Seems like overkill for mango smoothies, though.”

“I had to get a little work done after a bucking unpleasant mule of a pony decided my jaw needed to be shattered. I figured, why settle for just replacing when you can upgrade?” Rubber started walking away, and Arabica was prodded to follow.

They walked through a hatch and a wave of warmth hit Arabica like he’d taken a turn into a greenhouse, and when they got into the main cargo hold, he found out why.

Ponies in scrubs and full-face masks walked around a space almost as large as a city park, filled with bright overhead lights and trees in planters, every single one with waxy, black leaves.

“You’re growing the Black Khet here,” Arabica said, recognizing the narcotic leaves. Rubber Croc led him through the hold. “That’s bold.”

“It’s smart is what it is,” Rubber said. “See, here’s the thing -- there are plenty of places where it ain’t illegal to grow this stuff. All we had to do was get this heap registered there, and it’s almost a legal operation.”

“Almost.”

“Well, it’s enough that I was able to get that idiot in the warehouse to keep it running even when I was in prison and couldn’t chew him out myself,” Rubber said. “Idiot gets scared too easy. The real trick is that when the heat is on, we can just move the whole thing. That’s practically good news for you. Means you’re gonna go on a little cruise. You ain’t coming back, but, hey, you get a little ride first.”

“Now I’m required to warn all of you,” Beeswax -- normally Officer Beeswax but that title was in limbo while she was suspended -- said, more than slightly drunk and extremely outnumbered. “I’m very dangerous and armed. Armed and dangerous, I mean.”

She was backed into an alleyway, where she’d been busy holding on to the wall to keep the world from spinning, and now a gaggle of tough-looking stallions were going to introduce her to the hospital. Beeswax pulled out an extending baton, snapping it to full length.

The thugs with lead pipes and crowbars looked less than impressed.

“To make this fair for you,” Beeswax said, stumbling back a few steps to where a dumpster narrowed the alleyway even more. “I’ll let you choose the order you fight me in. Who wants to go first? Any takers?”

A stallion with his fur dyed black, probably because it was showing pink at the roots, stepped forward with a crowbar. He laughed. “You got a lot of fight in you for a pony about to have four broken legs.”

“I like giving gifts more than getting them,” Beeswax said. “Are you gonna come at me or are we gonna be here all night? I got places to be.”

The stallion shrugged and stomped towards her, raising the crowbar. Beeswax had seen a hundred stallions like him, somepony big and strong enough that they didn’t actually get into a lot of fights because most ponies were smart enough to avoid getting them angry. It usually went with stupid, but always meant they didn’t have real experience. Ponies who didn’t know how to fight always went for the head.

Beeswax swung the tip of her baton into his knee. He yelped and fell, dropping the crowbar and hissing in pain.

“Don’t worry, it probably isn’t broken,” Beeswax said. “You know, I probably should have returned this thing to the armory when I turned my badge in, but I just forgot about it because I was just so angry, you know?”

She adjusted her grip, holding down a button, and cracked the baton across the fallen pony’s face. There was a shower of sparks as the shock baton went off, the pony on the ground shuddering and shaking before going limp.

“Next!” she called, feeling a little better already, until the brick hit her forehead. She swore and fell into the wall, blood trickling from a small cut.

One of the other stallions charged right over his fallen friend. Beeswax tried to get away from the wall, but got pushed back into it by his shoulder charge. She got the baton between them and held the button down. The stallion got the worst of it, letting go and dropping to his knees. She finished him off with a blow to the crown of the head.

Another brick flew at her, but she was ready this time, pushing away from the wall and behind the dumpster partly blocking the alley.

“Buck, now I’ve probably got a concussion,” she groaned, feeling bile rise up in her throat. Unfortunately for the next pony past the dumpster, her body chose that moment to force her hoof and make her upchuck, vomiting all over the poor thug and stopping him in his tracks. He looked down at himself in shock.

Beeswax punched him in the snout, swore when she sprained her fetlock doing it, then swung the baton and caught him at the base of the ear, knocking him down in a groaning heap holding onto the side of his head.

Somepony must have been getting smart, because two stallions came at once, one vaulting on top of the dumpster and grabbing her from above, pulling her up by the neck. Beeswax gasped and struggled, and a second pony came around the other side, swinging a chair leg into her gut. If she hadn’t just vomited, the impact would have made her.

The stallion with the chair leg readied for another swing, and Beeswax went limp. The pony holding onto her lost his grip, and she slipped out. The chair leg went over her head, and the pony lost his grip when it hit the steel dumpster. Beeswax kicked at a very sensitive area that the pony had left unprotected, and he dropped with his legs crossed. The stallion on top of the dumpster grabbed for her, and she nabbed his wrist, throwing him on top of the crying stallion nursing his soft spots.

Another brick just barely missed her head, and Beeswax swore.

“Oh that’s it!” she yelled, bolting after the last stallion, who was grabbing another brick. He yelped and dropped it when he saw her coming. She grabbed him and twisted his hoof around behind his back, popping it a little out of joint and dropping him to the ground.

“Stop, I give!” he yelped.

“You’re gonna tell me where Rubber Croc is, right now,” Beeswax said. “I don’t like him sending ponies after me, and I’m gonna exercise my rights as a civilian and ask him nicely to stop and go buck himself.”

“Okay, Detective,” Arabica whispered to himself. “You’re a high-ranking officer. You’ve been in tight situations before. Think. How do you get out of this.”

He was in a cabin, wearing his own hoofcuffs. He had at least a few hours to figure out how to escape. Rubber Croc hadn’t even bothered having him beaten, just searched for weapons and anything that might be useful.

“But they didn’t search everywhere,” he realized. “My spare keys…” he kept a pair in the lining of his coat, just in case. It only made sense to have them, and all he had to do was reach them.

He stretched. He just had to… he winced and tried again, shifting position. He just had to bend his elbow a tiny bit more. And if he could remove one of his hooves, he’d be able to do just that. He tried to contort himself into position. Maybe he could make the coat shift correctly, they’d fall into his grip--

The cabin door opened and a pony in loose-fitting scrubs stared at him from the entrance.

Arabica realized he had his shoulders on the ground, and was up against the wall with his back hooves over his head.

“I know this looks strange,” he said. “I was just doing… calming yoga?”

The pony in scrubs sighed and took off her mask. Even through the black eye and the scrapes, Arabica instantly recognized the pony.

“Beeswax?” he asked. “What are you doing here? Don’t tell me, you’re--”

“I came here to kick Rubber Croc’s flank, but then I heard somepony got themselves captured and I had to adjust my plans to save you, too. If you’re busy, though, I can come back. When you’re done with your ‘calming yoga.’”

“Just get me out of these cuffs, Officer.”

“Woah, I’m off-duty,” she said, stepping in and looking at the cuffs. “I’m technically not an anything at the moment. And I don’t have keys.”

“There are some in my coat lining. I was trying to reach them.” Arabica nodded to his side. Beeswax reached in and started rummaging around until she found them.

“Is that what you were doing? Cause I was going to tell you I heard you had to remove some ribs before--”

“This isn’t the time or place, Beeswax. Rubber Croc could have ponies here any second. He’s even got dirty cops on the take.”

“Don’t worry about it, I made sure there was a distraction,” Beeswax said. And that’s when Arabica heard the distant alarms.

“What did you do?” Arabica asked.

“I’m a little tipsy still, so I wasn’t up for being clever, but I thought to myself, it would be a real shame if somepony broke the sprinkler valve and then set a bunch of dumb trees on fire. It might get everypony’s attention. Like a kind of distraction, you might say.”

“You set his crop of Black Khet on fire?” Arabica asked.

“Is that what it was?” Beeswax asked. She got his cuffs off after a few attempts, and they stepped out into the corridor to find a fallen guard. “Anyway, we should go. I heard fires on boats aren’t really fun.”

She grabbed the unconscious guard and tossed him inside the cabin, locking the door behind them.

“You know the way out?” Arabica asked.

“Of course. Probably.” Beeswax hesitated, looking around. “This way, I think.”

“I want the pony who did this found, and I want them turned into shark bait!” screamed an angry pony from that direction.

“Whoops, maybe that’s not--”

Rubber Croc and the pony who’d been holding an umbrella for him turned the corner and spotted Arabica and Beeswax.

“You!” Croc yelled, pointing at Beeswax.

“Oh, hey. You seem busy,” Beeswax said. “We were just leaving.”

“You’re leaving, all right,” Crock said. He shrugged off his jacket and tossed it to his minion. “But you’re gonna do it in a body bag!”

“You two know each other?” Arabica asked.

“I’m the one who put that pleasant smile on his face,” Beeswax said. “And I can do it again if I have to.”

She ran past Arabica and punched Rubber Croc, right on the chin. She winced in pain and backed off, holding her hoof.

“I remember him having more of a glass jaw,” she said, limping away. Croc grinned and lunged at her. Detective Arabica ducked between them, tackling Croc and rolling on the ground with them, ending up under the pony and taking a solid hit to the face, raising his hooves to cover his snout as Croc rained down blow after blow, not caring so much about who he hurt as long as somepony did.

Beeswax looked around, and spotted a pony running towards the hold, a bright red fire extinguisher in their hooves. She tripped them, grabbing the canister when they dropped it.

“Hey, Croc!” she shouted.

He turned and looked up from Arabica, hoof frozen mid-punch.

“Eat this!” Beeswax yelled, throwing the fire extinguisher at Croc. The pony looked up and snatched it from the air with his teeth, metal jaws snapping shut on the steel extinguisher. On instinct, he bit down.

There was an explosion of foam and steel shrapnel, and the corridor filled with suds and the stink of chemicals. Beeswax coughed and shielded her eyes, running over to dig through the mess.

“Detective, are you okay?”

Arabica sat up and groaned, rubbing his cheek where Croc had sucker-punched him. “I’ve been better. My ears are going to be ringing for a week from that pop. What happened to Croc?”

Beeswax pointed at the groaning gangster. His golden wolf teeth had broken and twisted into ragged shrapnel filling his mouth.

“He ain’t smiling so much anymore,” she said.

“And sign the statement right here,” Sergeant Plate said, taking the sheet out of the typewriter and putting it in front of Beeswax.

“First time I’ve had to make a report as a civilian,” Beeswax mumbled, scribbling her name on the paper with the pen in her teeth.

“You’ll get your badge back soon enough,” Detective Arabica promised. “We’re down a few patrol officers. Turns out Boudin and Jambon weren’t the only ones on his payroll, so we need all hooves on deck. They even found a pony in records shredding old files, so now we know how Croc managed to get out early. His lawyer is gonna have to answer some tough questions too.”

“I’d better,” Beeswax said, spitting out the pen. “How’s Croc?”

“He’ll live. You managed to break his jaw again, though. He’s pretty upset about that.”

Beeswax snorted.

“The good news is, you’re still off duty, so you can go home and celebrate,” Arabica said. “I need to do hours of paperwork and explaining about just what happened. I wish I was a civilian right now.”

“Hey, we did pretty good on our own,” Beeswax said. “And we didn’t even need some masked freak to come by and help us collar the--”

Behind them, at the entrance, there was a huge crash, and the entire building shook, dust falling in deeply concerning streams from the ceiling.

“...Be more careful with him,” Mare Do Well said, as she backed through the doors. “That’s it, Steel. Just a little more…”

A pony half-embedded in a concrete block and wearing armor painted with sloppy yellow and black stripes was shoved through the doors and into the precinct. He shouted and cursed at everypony around him, struggling to get out of the concrete that had set around his legs.

“What the buck is this?” Beeswax demanded, looking at the mess.

Mare Do Well shrugged. “He calls himself Killdozer. He decided he really didn’t like his landlord and the best way to deal with that was to knock over every building the pony owned. You’re probably going to want to sedate him before you get the armor off. He’s pretty unhappy.”

“You can’t just leave this kind of bucking thing on our front door!” Beeswax shouted.

“Hey, we saved you the trouble of getting him here,” Mare Do Well countered.

“I carried him,” Steel Braver said, the machine peeking out from the other side of the disturbance. “Hello, Officer Beeswax.”

“I can’t believe this,” Beeswax groaned. “Here I am, sober again, just when I really don’t want to be. Just my bucking luck I get a hangover and this at the same time.”

“Do you need assistance?” Steel Braver asked. “You seem to have many minor injuries.”

“What I need is to get my head examined,” Beeswax said.

“That is an excellent idea. Head trauma can be serious!”

Beeswax gave him a flat look. “Arabica--”

“Go home, Beeswax,” the Detective said. “I’ve got this. Thanks for the help. I’ll buy you a drink next time we go out.”

Beeswax gave him a sharp nod. “Don’t forget it!”

What Dreams Had Come, Part 1

Twenty Years Ago…

“When I look out from here, you know what I see?” Caucus Club asked. “I see the same thing I see in every other city in Equestria - a lot of ponies, each of them following what their cutie mark tells them. It’s like a beautiful field of wildflowers. The thing is, wildflowers are beautiful, but nopony wants a field as their front yard. What ponies want is a garden, organized and tended to. If I’m elected mayor, I promise to enact laws that will make it easier for ponies to work together. Easier incorporation paperwork, changing light industry laws to bring all those garage and backyard workshops under fewer rooftops. I want to encourage big business to flourish here, and for us to raise up home-grown leaders and visionaries from the ponies of this city!”

The crowd cheered, most of them holding professionally printed signs for Caucus Club. His opponent looked out at them. The few holding signs with his name, they were ponies he knew. Ponies who grew up in the city. They held signs they’d painted by hoof at home, sprinkled with glitter and carrying their real feelings, not like the mass-produced soulless banners being raised by the bussed-in ponies cheering for Caucus Club.

He wondered just how many of the ponies cheering were being paid to do it by the companies Caucus was promising would get ‘great opportunities’.

“Mister Caucus Club,” the unicorn at the other podium said. “I think what you’re really offering ponies is a trap. You say you’re going to create jobs, and I believe you will. But I think the jobs you’re going to create are going to be joyless slavery as a part of the corporate machine. You say you’re going to create opportunity, and you will. You want to roll back protections for local industries. You want to make it easy for corporations, and what you really mean is you want to squeeze out the ponies who live here now.”

“That’s not true,” Caucus said. “I simply think the existing regulations on labor, finance, and land development are choking the potential out of the city. I want to put everypony on the same level playing field. Do you know the existing laws mean places like Hayburger Princess and Barnyard Bargains can’t even open up a store here? We all agree that the local diner down the street makes a fine meal, so why does there need to be a law that they can’t have competition? It’s healthy for any market, and gives more choice to ponies looking for a quick lunch.”

“It’s never a level playing field,” the unicorn said. “If those laws are repealed, you’re going to wake up one day and you’ll find out that the whole city sold its soul for bits. There are going to be ponies at the very top of society, and ones at the very bottom, and the gulf between them is going to grow and grow until nopony can see the other side.”

“That’s never going to happen,” Caucus promised. “You’ll see. What’s really going to happen is you’re going to realize how good things are and wonder why you were ever worried.”

Now

“I can’t believe the Paper Filter is going out of business,” Bon-Bon sighed. “The last place in the city to get a real cup of coffee…”

She nursed her cup, looking down at the dark brew and trying to keep the dream alive as long as she could. Lyra put a hoof on her shoulders.

“It’s technically not going out of business,” Lyra reminded her. “It’s being turned into a Seasaddle’s Best.”

“That’s worse, not better,” Bon-Bon muttered. She shrank down in the booth, pointedly not looking around the room at the signs and branding that were plastered up on the walls.

“I’m just sorry it’s going,” Whisper said. “I mean this is where I first met all of you! I did so much of my writing here, and now I’m going to have to figure out a new place to do it.”

“I won’t miss working here,” Loopy put in. She shrugged. “Hey, you’ve all got fond memories because you got to drink coffee and hang out. I mostly had to pour drinks for ponies who thought coffee brewed instantly and that we should be making the kind of crazy dessert drinks they have at Novo’s.”

“Why did everypony turn to look at me?” Lyra asked.

“She’s not as bad as some of the customers I had,” Loopy said. “There was one pony that came in every morning and ordered the same thing and made us remake it at least twice, exactly the same way each time, until she was satisfied. It was always ‘it’s not hot enough’ or ‘it’s not strong enough’ or ‘are you sure this isn’t decaf?’”

“Well, I knew Bonnie was going to be a little depressed about losing her favorite coffee shop, so I figured I’d do a little something special to cheer her up,” Lyra said. She picked up the bag she’d been carrying. “I got everypony a present!”

She opened the bag and gave everypony in the booth a stylish white box, the kind of sleek and not-quite-square thing made of very solid cardboard that broadcasted ‘this is very expensive’.

“What’s this?” Bon-Bon asked. She opened her box, revealing a square-faced wristwatch with a blank black crystal face.

“I got everypony the latest gadget from Engine Heart Industries,” Lyra said. “They’re really cool! Try it on!”

Bon-Bon strapped it on, and the screen sprang to life, showing the stylized rose that was the company logo.

“Okay, so, these are called Mark-2 Watches. They actually run off your body’s magical field, so you never need to recharge it,” Lyra said. She pulled out her own and put it on.

“Huh, it even works for me,” Loopy noted, when she tried hers on. “That’s sort of a surprise. I’m used to tech stuff fighting me tooth and nail.” She looked at the screen and tapped it a few times. “What else does it do?”

“It lets you send messages, take voice notes, check the time, plus it’s got a calculator and an alarm clock! They’re connected wirelessly, so they’re going to get more stuff with updates, but I wanted to get in early.”

“They actually sound sort of useful,” Bon-Bon said.

“And if you don’t need anything else, it’s still a watch,” Whisper noted. “Oh! You can change it from a digital display to showing hands like a regular clock!”

“Thanks, Lyra,” Bon-Bon said, leaning over to kiss her cheek. “You’re too nice to me.”

Loopy tilted the Mark-2 on her wrist, getting it into a comfortable spot. “Did you get one for Jasmine? She deserves one for offering to stay home and watch the office while we all went out.”

“I gave her one, but it didn’t work,” Lyra said. “I figured she should get it early as a treat, but it just wouldn’t turn on for her. We figure we can get it working eventually, so when we have free time I’ll take hers apart and see if I can get it to connect to her internal power.”

“And getting to take it apart is just a bonus?” Loopy asked.

“It’ll be neat to see how they’re put together,” Lyra admitted.

“Are you ponies some of our regulars?” a pony asked, whose body was the same color and general rotund shape of a coffee bean. He offered a hoof to shake when he walked over to the table. “I’m Dark Roast. I run Seasaddle’s Best, and I make a point to come to every store on opening day.”

“Nice to meet you,” Whisper West said, shaking his hoof. “We’ve been coming here for a long time.”

“Well, I hope you’ll keep on coming here,” he said. “We’re not planning to change much. It’s just a change in management and a new sign. Once we’ve got our patented auto-magic espresso machines installed, you’ll even be able to get a lot of drinks this place just wasn’t equipped to serve before.”

Loopy looked past the stallion.

“You might want to check on that new sign,” she said.

Dark Roast turned and shrieked when he saw it. The Seasaddle’s Best sign outside crashed to the ground, sparking and starting to catch on fire, the cheap plastic burning like tinder even with the rain pattering down.

“Bad contractor?” Bon-Bon asked.

“I don’t think so,” Loopy whispered. “I can feel a lot of anger. Whisper, get under the table. I think things are about to go to Tartarus.”

Whisper West nodded quickly and took cover.

The front doors burst open, and a grey unicorn stepped in, wearing a faded tuxedo and twirling a cane. A domino mask covered his eyes in the least effective disguise anypony had ever worn, or at least it would have been if anypony had been able to recognize him to begin with.

“Did you do this?!” Dark Roast demanded, pointing outside at the sign.

The grey unicorn raised his chin. “You’re upset about property, Mister Roast?”

“Of course I am! I’ll have you arrested for vandalism--”

“You’re the one who should be arrested!” the unicorn bellowed, the force of his voice making Roast take a step back. “You only care about property and branding and things, and you step all over the ponies!”

The unicorn reached into his tux jacket and produced a sheaf of papers and pamphlets, tossing them into the air. With a quick spell, the papers flew like birds, flapping their way to the ponies behind the counter, onto the tables, and finding perches everywhere ponies might look.

“These papers are proof of your wage theft, your constant cost-cutting, and your despicable practices. You treat ponies like they’re as disposable as your cheap paper cups. You hire teenagers and the vulnerable and pay them below minimum wage while charging them for the aprons you force them to wear and every cup of coffee a customer complains about when they taste the metal of your machines instead of the skill of a barista!”

“These are pretty serious accusations,” Bon-Bon noted, flipping through the papers that had landed on their table. “But they seem like the kind of thing that should be brought to court and revealed in the press. There’s no need for vandalism.”

“I got this,” Loopy said, stepping out of the booth. “I used to work here, sir. I’m not really happy either. I’m Loop d’Loop. What’s your name?”

“You can call me Flashback,” the unicorn said. “And I am here to remind you all of your sins. This venue isn’t what I wanted for my debut, but I suppose ponies in this city are all fans of early previews, and I’m showing you your future. And your dark past.”

“Okay. Have you tried speaking to the press?” Loopy asked. “I bet they’d love to go over your evidence, and they’d have the resources to look into things.”

“The press is owned by the same interests that I’m here to fight against,” Flashback said. “They’re just as guilty as the rest, taking corporate money to run their stories, filling pages with ads, causing hysteria and fads-- look at you! You’re even wearing the latest fad, just because somepony told you to do it!”

He pointed to Loopy’s new Mark-2. Loopy rolled her eyes.

“You see this?” Flashback pulled a watch from his waistcoat. “This was hoof-crafted by a pony who had a shop not one block from this very spot! It’s kept perfect time for more than two decades, and it’s a unique work of craft and art. His shop is an apartment block now, because he got forced out by big developers. My suit was tailored by a mare who was a mother of seven and grandmother to seventeen, and she lost everything because ponies decided they’d rather have a cheap suit that wears out in a year than a good one that lasts a lifetime.”

“I’m going to have you arrested for blackmail and vandalism,” Dark Roast said. “You can complain about the tailoring and coffee at the prison cafeteria.”

“I don’t think so,” Flashback said. “Not until my work is complete. I’m here to make all of you remember and regret, starting with you!”

He lunged for Dark Roast, his horn glowing. Dark Roast froze up when the tip of the horn hit him, every limb going rigid.

“What did you do?!” Loopy demanded. She shoved Flashback away from Dark Roast and looked at the rotund stallion. The fat brown pony was staring into space like he was seeing a ghost or trapped in a nightmare.

Lyra ran over, her horn flashing and a wave of energy passing over Dark Roast. “He’s not physically hurt, but that spell did something to his mind.”

“He’s reliving all of his sins,” Flashback said. “Every time he hurt another pony to get ahead. Every time he said an unkind word. All the decisions he ever made wrong. I designed the spell myself.”

“Okay, that’s it,” Loopy said. “You’re under arrest. I’m a government agent, and I’m bringing you in for assault.”

Bon-Bon stood up, walking over to the group. “Can you break the spell, Lyra?”

“Just give me a few minutes,” Lyra said. “I think it’s based on Princess Twilight’s memory spell, but it’s been hacked and twisted around like a snake biting its own tail. I have to be careful unraveling it or else he’ll forget everything.”

“It’s okay, we’ll take him while you help the suit,” Loopy said. “Sir, I’m going to ask you just once. Lay down, let me put you in cuffs, and I won’t use more force than I have to. If I have to fight you, you’re not going to like what happens.”

“I’ve shown you the evidence of what he did,” Flashback said. “He’s been working to grind the ponies of this city down even finer than he grinds coffee beans.”

“I tried to do this the easy way,” Loopy said. She advanced on Flashback and the unicorn took a step back, frowning.

“I warn you now, if you try to stop me, I’ll be forced to bury you under the weight of your own past sins,” Flashback said. “I can sense them all around you, like ghosts haunting your every step. I came here for a purpose, but you’re guilty as much as he is.”

“You’re really dramatic for a pony who walked in here because you’re upset about coffee,” Loopy said. She rushed Flashback, shoving him back into the wall. With how posh he looked, she was hoping he’d give up once he had a couple of bruises. If she was lucky, she wouldn’t have to break anything.

Flashback turned on her with surprising speed, charging up his spell. She saw it coming, and grabbed his head with both hooves, trying to push him back, but he tilted his chin, and the horn came down on Loopy’s fetlock. She felt the spell trying to claw into her mind and fought back. It was mind magic. She was a changeling. She could do mind magic. She could fight it and throw it right back into his face and laugh all the way to the bank.

At least that was the plan.

Loopy pushed back against the magic, and she could feel her horn, despite being disguised. She was old beyond her years, by changeling standards. She hadn’t had a fresh molt in years, and her chitin was chipped and cracked. Her wings were sore almost all the time. She wasn’t as strong as she used to be. Years of fighting had taken their toll, and she wasn’t as strong as in the good old days.

Especially not with her magic. Her horn was half-burned-out. Flashback didn’t seem to have the same problem. It wasn’t much of a fight. His magic pushed through hers like it was a shield made of tissue paper, and the spell hit home. Everything went black.

???

The changeling got up from where she’d gone to sleep, a hole in the wall hidden enough from her brothers and sisters that she could be sure they wouldn’t mess with her while she was resting. She’d woken up hungry, which wasn’t a surprise. She’d gone to sleep hungry.

“You,” another changeling said, pointing at her. “Get this waste out of the hive.”

The first changeling was about to refuse, but bit back her retort. The changeling who’d given her the order was wearing the blue armor of the Queen’s Guard. Refusing would mean a beating followed by being yelled at until she did what he wanted anyway. He shoved a pony towards her.

She almost fell when the thin pegasus mare stumbled into her. She had the blank, empty gaze all the captives did, once they had nothing left to give. She already hated the pony, with her ugly pink coat and ugly feathered wings and ugly cutie mark that was just a tangle of dumb lines.

“Hurry it up,” the Queen’s Guard snapped.

The still-sleepy changeling started leading the pony towards an exit, herding her through the moving stone and crawling labyrinth to the outside of the hive. She walked outside with her, the changeling’s wings buzzing as a dry breeze blew across the badlands and over her shell. It smelled like dust and rot out there.

“Get out of here,” she growled, shoving her. The mare took one stumbling step. The changeling was getting frustrated. “What is wrong with you stupid ponies?!”

The mare gave her a look like a lost larva.

“This is why I hate getting rid of waste,” the changeling said. “They just can’t understand what’s going on. What is it, you spent so much time in the pod you can’t figure out reality?” She snorted.

The mare opened her mouth, trying to say something but unable to find the words, so emotionally and mentally exhausted that they just didn’t form. It was more of a response than the changeling was used to from the ponies that got brought to the hive.

“Somebug was a little sloppy draining you,” the changeling said. She grinned and lunged, grabbing the pony and siphoning her emotions, pulling the last few dregs of emotional energy out of her from whatever reserve they’d been hiding in.

She licked her lips, and the pony fell, unable to even stand.

“Mm. Not much, but at least it’s almost a meal,” the changeling said. She’d gotten just a tiny taste of the pony’s memories along with the energy. “Loop d’Loop… what a stupid name.” She kicked the fallen pony and walked away, feeling better already.

It was going to be a good day.

What Dreams Had Come, Part 2

“How is she?” Jasmine asked.

“I can’t get her out of it,” Lyra said, standing up too quickly and almost falling right back over until her wife caught her. “Thanks, Bonnie.”

Jasmine looked at the sleeping changeling. They’d managed to get Loopy out of the Paper Filter and back to the lair without anypony really seeing her disguise drop, but she was in bad shape. Maybe it was just the way she tossed and turned in whatever bad dream she was seeing, but she looked beaten down by life, like a boxer who’d gotten in the ring a few too many times and had been broken by it.

“Were you able to find anything in the police files?” Bon-Bon asked, helping Lyra over to a more comfortable seat.

“It wasn’t very hard,” Jasmine said. She held up a thick manilla folder and gave it to Bon-Bon. “They’ve had a record on the pony for a long time.”

“His real name is Date Pudding?” Bon-Bon asked, raising an eyebrow. “There must be a decade of police reports in here…”

“A long time ago, he was a candidate for mayor,” Jasmine said. “He was running against the current Mayor, Caucus Club. It was a really heated election -- the previous mayor had decided not to run, so things were going to change one way or the other. He wanted to protect small businesses and restrict development, and Caucus Club wanted the opposite. There’s just one problem with that.”

“It’s not exactly an even fight,” Bon-Bon said. “How much did the corporations give Caucus Club to help him run his campaign?”

“A lot,” Jasmine said. “It was all legal, but…”

“Law and ethics only sometimes intersect,” Bon-Bon said. “Looks like it was still a really close election.”

Jasmine nodded. “Close enough that both sides accused each other of cheating. The Crown almost had to intervene. Date Pudding lost by less than a hundred votes, according to the official recount, which was sponsored by Caucus Club’s campaign, with funding from their corporate backers.”

“I bet he wasn’t happy about that,” Lyra said, wiping sweat from her brow.

“He wasn’t, and he did the only thing he could,” Jasmine said.

“Vandalism and assault?” Lyra guessed.

“No, according to this he became an activist and kept fighting for the rights of small ponies,” Bon-Bon said. “A lot of these papers are permits and notifications about marches and protests. He was doing everything exactly right. He organized the community and became sort of a central figure in fighting against corruption and gentrification.”

“Really?” Lyra asked. “If it was me, I’d go right to black-ops stuff.”

“Yes, that’s why I recruited you to work for the government,” Bon-Bon said casually. “I don’t know what it is with Celestia’s school and turning out villains…” she flipped a few more pages. “It looks like he became more extreme over time.”

Jasmine nodded. “According to his official statements to the press -- the clippings are in there if you look -- he said that asking nicely didn’t work anymore, so he had to take action and hit the enemy where it hurt. He chained himself to buildings and trees, filed legal challenges to every large construction project, and just tried to make enough of a fuss and cause enough trouble to make companies give up.”

“How’d that work out for him?” Lyra asked. “I can’t help but notice a lack of trees and a lot of really big buildings.”

“The dates on all this…” Bon-Bon said, flipping back to check things. “This whole file is old. Nothing here is less than fifteen years old!”

“That’s because of what happened in the end,” Jasmine said. “He was accused of arson after a big apartment block he’d been protesting went up in flames. He claimed in court that he had nothing to do with it, and that all the evidence was fabricated, but he got convicted and sent to prison.”

“Let me guess, he just got out,” Lyra groaned, sitting back. “I need an ice pack. My horn is killing me.”

“And Flashback’s spell is killing Loopy,” Bon-Bon said. “Are you sure you don’t know any specialists?”

“If you want, I can take a nap and try to get Luna on the line,” Lyra said. “I’m only half-joking. I’m out of really good ideas and I’m starting to think we need a bad one if we’re going to make any progress.”

“If we don’t get her out of it soon, she won’t ever wake up,” Bon-Bon said.

“Yeah, I know,” Lyra groaned. “Give me a few minutes to rest and I’ll try breaking her out of it again.”

“No, you’ll just exhaust yourself,” Bon-Bon said. “Maybe what we should be doing is trying to figure out where Flashback is going to show up. Then we can catch him and make him break the spell himself!”

“Probably better than my idea of using electric shocks,” Lyra said. “What? Sometimes it works to disrupt mana flows.”

Jasmine started pacing, thinking. “If I was a pony like Flashback--”

“--an unstable frustrated activist who decided to change his name to be more intimidating and wear a stupid little mask,” Lyra helpfully added.

“I’d want to show up at something big,” Jasmine said. “In the recordings from the coffee shop, he said ‘This venue isn’t what I wanted for my debut’. I think he was testing out his spell.”

“Recordings?” Bon-Bon asked.

“From your Mark-2s,” Jasmine said.

Bon-Bon looked at the watch on her wrist. “These record things?”

“Flashback was in prison until a little while ago,” Lyra said. “I don’t think he’s got much of a plan or secret informers.”

“You’re right,” Jasmine said. “He probably went to the Paper Filter because he knew the neighborhood. Remember he said he got his watch from less than a block away? It was just a target of opportunity.”

“He probably doesn’t listen to the radio. What’s in the papers?” Bon-Bon asked.

Lyra grabbed the day’s Seasaddle Times. “I don’t think he’s going to go after the local buckball team…” she flipped to the second page. “Oh. That might do it.”

“What might?” Bon-Bon asked.

“There’s a groundbreaking ceremony tomorrow night. They’re tearing down a bunch of tenement buildings and they’re gonna put up some big apartments. You know, the kind where one building is a whole block and it’s supposed to be like a city street in the sky with a mall at the top and a lot of small boutique stores?”

“That does sound like something Flashback might be interested in.”

“Especially since Mayor Caucus Club is going to be the one pushing the big red button to start the demolition,” Lyra said.

“We need to get out there,” Bon-Bon said. “I’ll contact the SPD and get us some security passes. You try to figure out some way to break Loopy out of this spell. We need Mare Do Well.”

“I’ve got one other idea,” Lyra said. “You won’t like it.”

“Is it electric shocks?” Bon-Bon asked.

“No.”

“Then let’s give it a try.”

“I like what you’ve done with the place,” Philtrum said timidly. “It’s sort of…”

She looked around. It had once been her lair, a museum of Mare Do Well merchandise and artifacts. Most of that was still around, though shoved a bit off to the side and rearranged to have more open floorspace.

“I like the wall full of string and newspaper articles,” she tried. “Is that a case you’re working on? I didn't know pop music was connected to the theft of rare minerals.”

“I just like keeping track of which ponies are connected, and how,” Bon-Bon said. She leaned over to Lyra. “This was your idea?”

“She’s a changeling,” Lyra hissed. “She might be able to help. Besides, she loves Mare Do Well and the doctors said she’s in a much better place now.”

“You couldn’t ask Princess Twilight or King Thorax?”

“Philtrum was in the city and we don’t have days to wait for an opening in the royal schedule,” Lyra muttered. “Even this is cutting it close.”

“I, um,” Philtrum coughed. “I’m standing right here. I can hear you.”

“Sorry,” Bon-Bon said, smiling sheepishly.

“I wasn’t in my right mind before,” Philtrum said. “I owe all of you for saving me before I made a permanent mistake. If there’s anything I can do to help, I will. I heard that Loop d’Loop was under some kind of curse?”

“That’s… more or less accurate,” Bon-Bon said.

“It’s a memory spell gone wrong,” Lyra said. “She’s trapped in a waking dream.”

“I can try to help. What do you need me to do?”

“I’ll walk you through what I tried.” Lyra walked over to Loopy. She was curled up on herself, sweating and breathing heavily. “I couldn’t get through to her.”

“We can’t stick around long,” Bon-Bon said. “We’re pretty sure Flashback is going to attack the mayor at the groundbreaking ceremony. We need to get into position.”

“I don’t know how long it’ll take to break a spell like this,” Philtrum said. “It could be hours, days, or…”

“Just do your best,” Bon-Bon said. “I’m sorry for being rude before. If you can’t break the spell, do what you can to get her to drink a little water.”

“It’s always important to stay hydrated,” Jasmine agreed. “And I’ll be here too in case you need anything, Miss Philtrum.”

“Here goes nothing,” Philtrum said, the reformed changeling bracing herself.

It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. It was a place Philtrum had never really known, in a time she’d never lived in. These days, the hive was like a corpse, an anthill shot through with rooms and holes and slowly getting filled in with furniture and color. She could only dimly remember what it had been like before.

What she was seeing now was a living hive. It felt like being inside some beast, like Philtrum was standing in something’s dripping stomach, and she was being slowly digested.

“This really is like a nightmare,” she whispered.

Philtrum saw movement out of the corner of her eye and turned too slowly. A black-armored changeling walked right through her like she was a ghost.

“Creepy,” Philtrum whispered.

“Hey!”

Philtrum snapped to attention and turned around.

A rather short changeling stormed up to her and narrowed her eyes, poking the reformed changeling in the chest. “What are you supposed to be? It looks like you tried to disguise yourself and only got halfway there.”

“Loopy?” Philtrum asked.

The short changeling froze for a moment. “What?”

“You must be Loopy. Nobug else here can see me because they’re just your memories,” Philtrum realized. “You have to listen to me--”

“Woah, woah, I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but I’ve got no idea who you’re talking about. That’s some kind of dumb pony name. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to find something to eat before some jerk--”

“You!” a taller changeling snapped. He pointed at Loopy. “Get this waste out of the hive.”

He shoved a pony at Loopy, almost knocking both of them over. The pony was just skin and bones, a pegasus mare who looked like she hadn’t seen the sun or a friendly face in so long she didn’t even remember what they were.

“It’s… you?” Philtrum whispered. The pony almost looked like Loopy’s usual disguise, if they’d spent a few months locked in a dungeon cell.

“Hurry it up,” the bigger changeling snapped.

Loopy grumbled and started leading the pony away. Philtrum followed after her, confused. “Where are you taking her?”

“Outside, obviously,” Loopy said. “She’s all dried up, so we have to get rid of her.”

Philtrum bit her lip and followed. She knew she couldn’t change things. This wasn’t really happening. This was a memory, not something that was really happening. They walked through moving walls and doors that opened on their own and worse, stranger things, and finally got outside.

Loopy shoved the pony a few times, trying to get her to move and muttering under her breath. The pony blinked slowly and looked at her, trying to mouth a word and not quite getting it out.
“Somebug was a little sloppy draining you,” the changeling said. She grinned and lunged, grabbing the pony and siphoning her emotions, pulling the last few dregs of emotional energy out of her from whatever reserve they’d been hiding in.

She licked her lips, and the pony fell, unable to even stand.

“What’s going to happen to her?” Philtrum asked.

Loopy stopped, turning away from the pony. “The same thing that happens to every pony that gets dumped out here,” she said. “We forget about them.”

“You didn’t forget, though. You remembered this one,” Philtrum said. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be stuck here.”

“How could I forget?” Loopy asked. The sky darkened. “If I hadn’t drained that last spark out of her, maybe she would have gotten away.”

“Did any of the others?”

“Does it matter? She was my personal responsibility. I wanted breakfast more than I cared about if she lived or died.”

“Why do you always disguise yourself as her?” Philtrum asked.

“...I don’t know,” Loopy said, quietly. “It was the first thing I thought of when I left the hive. Then I just got used to it.”

“You never stopped feeling guilty, did you?”

“I am guilty. There’s a difference.”

“Haven’t you made up for it? You saved a lot of lives.”

“I didn’t make it up to her,” Loopy said. “I didn’t even feel bad about it at the time. It just ate at me and I didn’t know why and then… I couldn’t stay anymore. But this is where I belong. I’m still the same hungry monster I always was.”

“No you’re not. You inspire ponies. You inspired me to be better. You’ve saved so many and you’ve done so much good!”

“But it wasn’t always good.”

“And you regret it.”

“Yeah,” Loopy whispered.

“Everypony has things they regret. My therapist told me… it’s important to remember what we did wrong, but we remember it so we can do better next time. You’ve been doing so, so much good.”

She grabbed Loopy’s hoof, squeezing it.

“This is why you never wanted to change like the rest of us.”

“I don’t deserve it,” Loopy said.

“You do,” Philtrum said. “You saved me once. Let me save you this time.”

“I warn you!” Flashback shouted. “If you attempt to approach the stage, you’ll find that I’ve been rather creative with where the explosives meant to be used in the demolition have gone!”

Bon-Bon snarled, stopping at the stairs up to the stage. The crowd was backing away slowly, trampling the hundreds of papers that Flashback had dropped on them detailing all the money companies gave Mayor Caucus Case for his reelection funds, the kickbacks he’d given them, and probably a hundred more minor crimes.

Mayor Caucus Case had been just paranoid enough to put up security barriers to keep snipers and spellcasters away, and now Flashback was using them as a fortress of his own, with the mayor in a daze and mumbling something about an orphanage.

“Lyra?” Bon-Bon whispered. “Can you get the detonator away from him?”

“Before he presses it?” Lyra asked. “Not a chance.”

“Any other bright ideas?”

“Call PrinTecca and have them send Steel Braver?” Lyra suggested.

“Why, so he can stand here with us?” Bon-Bon asked.

“Everypony, it’s going to be okay!”

Philtrum ran through the crowd, pushing through to the front. Bon-Bon stopped her with a hoof before she got close enough to make Flashback nervous.

“What happened?” Bon-Bon asked. “Is Loopy okay? Were you able to break his spell?”

Philtrum nodded, excited. “I think maybe I even really helped her! I’m basically part of the team now! I mean, my therapist wouldn’t want me to really commit to it, because of the whole obsession thing, but--”

“As long as she’s on the mend, you’ve done a lot,” Bon-Bon said. “Now, I don’t suppose in your brief time as a superhero, you got enough experience to tell me how to stop a madpony with a bomb who’s holding the Mayor hostage?”

“We should keep the crowd back,” Philtrum said, after a moment. “I know that’s what a real hero would do. Get the innocent out of the way.”

“And then?” Lyra asked.

“Then we just have to believe,” Philtrum said. “Even if there’s no hope, even when we can’t see the sun, there’s still Mare Do Well.”

A dark shape landed right next to Flashback. He turned to look, surprise robbing him of initiative. A gloved hoof hit his horn, knocking the detonator out of his grasp. Mare Do Well stood up slowly, like a snake uncoiling, her cape obscuring her form.

“So one of the city’s so-called heroes has come to stop me,” Flashback said. “Good. You’re finally taking me seriously. If you’d taken me seriously years ago, none of you would be in this mess! You wouldn’t be living in a wasteland of concrete and steel!”

“What are you even fighting for?” Mare Do Well asked.

“Does she seem taller to you?” Lyra whispered.

Bon-Bon shushed her. “Grab the detonator!”

“Oh right!” Lyra grabbed the box, nabbing it before Flashback could.

“I’m fighting for the ponies of this city--” Flashback started.

“You’re fighting for your own regrets,” Mare Do Well said. “What happened to you was wrong, but you can’t make things better this way. You don’t even want to win. You just want to go out in a blaze of glory so they can’t forget you.”

Flashback’s legs shook slightly. “Is that so much to ask? The city has forgotten everything. All the ponies who lived here. The good ponies who were trying to make a living. How many of them are forgotten in a gutter somewhere?”

“I don’t know. And they don’t deserve that. You want ponies to face justice for what they did in the past, but we need to look at tomorrow, too. Do you want a future where ponies are judge, jury, and executioner? Because that’s what you’re doing right now.”

“I just… I want things to go back to how they used to be,” Flashback whispered. “Ponies used to be happy. Ponies used to value friendship. In the rest of Equestria, they still do. But here… it’s like a nightmare from another time.”

“If you want to fix things, you have to start by fixing yourself,” Mare Do Well said. “The past is a place to visit, not to live in.”

Flashback sat down, the fight leaving him. Mare Do Well motioned to the waiting security ponies behind Bon-Bon and Lyra, and they ran forward.

“Don’t hurt him,” Mare Do Well warned. “He’s not an evil pony. He’s just lost. He spent a lot of time away and came home to find everything was different. We’d all be upset if it happened to us.”

She walked down the stairs to her friends.

“So, I was out of it for a while,” Mare Do Well said, waving to the crowd as they slipped away backstage. “Looks like you almost managed without me.”

“We would have come up with something,” Bon-Bon said. “It’s good to see you back on your hooves.”

“It’s good to be back,” Mare Do Well said. She looked around to make sure nopony was watching them, then took off her hat.

“We should go out to celebrate!” Lyra suggested. “Maybe not at a coffee shop.”

“I think there’s a tea room a few blocks from here,” Loopy said, taking off her mask. Bon-Bon’s jaw dropped in shock. Lyra gasped. Loopy gave them a sheepish smile, her newly-pink chitin gleaming along with the gems set into her neck. “Is there something on my face?"

Black Mark, Part 1

“You know, I’m not sure if I should be happy or really disappointed,” Star Thistle said. She worked her hooves into Loopy’s back, kneading the changeling’s muscles and thinking to herself. “As a health professional, I’m glad to see you’re in much better shape than you used to be, and I don’t mean that just because you’re literally a shapeshifter.”

Loopy stretched. “It feels strange.” She looked at her hooves. It was hard to think of them as actually being hers. They were pink, for one thing, and didn’t have holes through them. She expected to miss her holes. They were literally a part of her. But she didn’t miss them. They’d vanished along with the old aches in her joints.

“Strange good, or strange bad?” Star Thistle asked. “Because I don’t know if this is more like changeling puberty where you get wings in strange places or…”

“Or?”

“Or healing from old wounds, I guess,” Star Thistle shrugged. “You don’t have half the scars you used to.”

“I’m sort of glad to still have some of them,” Loopy said. “It makes this feel a little more like me.”

“Did the skin cream I gave you help at all?” Star Thistle asked.

“It did, actually,” Loopy said. “It was really good for buffing my chitin. I never got a chance to thank you for that.”

“Well, I didn’t want to say anything, but I sort of asked around about it. The Guild of Buskers, Entertainers, and Escorts has a lot of changeling members.”

“Oh,” Loopy paused. “You mean they’re…?”

“Actors, mostly, yes,” Star Thistle confirmed. “Being able to shapeshift is a real benefit to somepony on stage, and they’re great at staying in character. They recommended that brand to me.”

“You’re a great friend, Star,” Loopy said.

“Just too bad you won’t need my services quite as much. You haven’t asked me for a hug even once.”

“Sorry. I just… don’t feel hungry like I used to be. I think I actually crave sugar more than love! I’m worried I’m going to turn into Lyra and start ordering those huge coffee drinks from Novo’s that are all caramel and sugar syrup.”

There was a quick beep, and Star Thistle stopped.

“What’s that?” Loopy asked.

Star Thistle looked at her wrist. “Oh, it’s some kind of system update for my watch. It’s nothing important.” She showed Loopy her Mark-2 Watch.

“Oh, you’ve got one of those too?” Loopy asked.

“Who doesn’t?” Star asked. “I’ve been using it to help me track and time my appointments. Don’t worry, though. I scheduled extra time for you. You’ve got a whole new body and I need to figure it out. It’s even worse than a new client - you’ve been coming here long enough to know what I can do, and I’ve got to learn quickly so I don’t disappoint you.”

“You’d never disappoint me.”

“Of course not,” Star Thistle teased. “I’m a professional.”

Loopy’s radio earpiece buzzed. “Hey, Loopy, are you there?” Lyra asked. “This is super important, I don’t care if you’re in the middle of getting your wings preened or whatever it is you’re doing!”

“What is it?” Loopy asked, touching her ear. “And can you take it down a notch? I feel like my ears are unblocked for the first time in a decade. I don’t need to start losing hearing all over again.”

“Are you wearing your Mark-2?” Lyra asked.

“No,” Loopy said. “Hold on, I’ll grab it.”

“Don’t! There’s something really wrong with them. Whatever you do, don’t put it on.”

“Hold on,” Loopy said, sitting up. “Star, you need to take off your watch. My friend says something’s up with them. It might be nothing, but just in case, it’s better safe than… sorry?”

Star Thistle stood silently, just rocking back and forth slightly on her hooves. The screen on the watch on her wrist blinked slowly, the outline of a rose picked out in red light on the black crystal plate.

“Lyra, what exactly are the Mark-2s doing?” Loopy asked. “I got somepony here who’s in some kind of trance. I’ll try taking it off--”

“Don’t!” Lyra warned. “I don’t know what it’ll do. I think it might be like waking up a sleepwalker.”

“Lyra there’s nothing dangerous about waking up a sleepwalking pony,” Loopy said. “That’s a myth.”

“Whatever the watches are doing aren’t a myth,” Lyra said. “Please, just trust me for now, okay? I’m trying to figure this out but Bon-Bon was wearing hers and she’s acting weird and I don’t know what to do--”

“Calm down,” Loopy said. “I’ll come right back to the office. Is anypony else there with you?”

“Jasmine is here,” Lyra confirmed.

“Okay. You take care of your wife. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Something’s happening on my end.”

Star Thistle had started walking, going to the door and walking out. Loopy followed her into the hallway outside, and two other ponies almost ran her over, not watching where they were going because they were in the same daze. In the open rooms down the hall, Loopy heard ponies complaining about their masseuse walking out on them, and one pony yelling something about having paid for music lessons.

Loopy walked with the dazed ponies, all the way to the street outside. There, they joined a stream of other ponies walking in one direction. There were dozens, maybe hundreds of them, all with that blank look on their faces.

“This might be a bigger problem than I thought…” Loopy muttered.

Lyra waved at Loopy when she walked in. “Over here! I’ve got her tied up, but she’s still acting weird!”

Loopy buzzed over, her wings strong and fresh enough that it didn’t feel like a strain to flutter over. She’d enjoy it more if one of her friends wasn’t in hoofcuffs and some very interesting interpretations of rope restraints. Bon-Bon was fighting slowly, not really coordinated, trying to get up more like a pony tangled in sheets in bed than one who was in cuffs.

“She’s trying to get to the exit,” Lyra said. “I got her before she wandered far, but she just keeps trying. Jasmine helped me wrestle her back inside, but she won’t snap out of it.” Lyra wiped her eyes, obviously on the edge of losing it.

“We’re going to help her,” Loopy promised. “We’re heroes, remember? We’re going to get to the bottom of this. What can you tell me about the Mark-2s?”

“Jasmine, can you…?” Lyra asked. She sat down by Bon-Bon and stroked her mane.

Jasmine nodded quickly. “Over here, Miss Loopy.” She led Loopy over to a table with a lamp, where one of the Mark-2s was half-disassembled. “Miss Lyra and I were trying to figure out how to make one of the watches work for me, and when we opened it up, this is what we found.”

The metal backing of the Mark-2 on the table had been removed, and inside was a tangle of small crystal chips and relays, cut to fit the tiny form factor, and all centered around a sliver of softly glowing stone.

“That’s the stuff the foals were digging up in the illegal mine,” Loopy said, recognizing it.

“Etherite,” Jasmine nodded. “It’s doing something with cutie mark magic. You know how the watch is supposed to run on the ambient magic a pony has around their body?”

Loopy nodded. “Right, so it wouldn’t need a battery or winding.”

“From what we can tell, it can go both ways. The magic from the pony wearing the Mark-2 powers it, but it can also use that connection in the other direction. They were designed to get updates wirelessly and connect in a network and somepony is using it to put magic into the ponies wearing the watches and it’s making Miss Bon-Bon go crazy and I don’t know what to do to help!”

“It’s her cutie mark,” Lyra said quietly. “Or… not her cutie mark. It’s like a fake, second mark, like the Cutie Pox but controlled by somepony else.”

“Cutie Pox?” Loopy asked.

“It was kind of a disease or curse-- the important thing is, I’ve seen what it does!” Lyra snapped. “A pony got extra marks and lost control. You don’t understand because you’re a changeling, but-- sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“It’s okay,” Loopy said. She sat down with Lyra. “You’re worried. I’m worried too. So why would having more cutie marks make her lose control?”

“Your cutie mark is like your whole destiny,” Lyra said. “It’s really hard to fight, especially when you first get it. When I first got my cutie mark I ended up playing the lyre for a whole day. At first it was just… I found something I was good at, and it came to me naturally, and I was having fun. But then I couldn’t put it down. I had to try one more thing, or play that song just a little better. I ended up falling asleep with my hooves on the strings.”

“That sounds kind of terrifying,” Loopy said.

“It can be scary. You feel like you have to do something. There’s just this compulsion to do what your mark tells you.”

“And the watch… the Mark-2. I just got the name.” Loopy clicked her tongue. “This was planned out ahead of time. The ponies who made this knew exactly what it was for. It’s not a mistake or a product malfunction.”

“It was made by Engine Heart Industries,” Lyra said.

“Run by Black Valintino, one of the first ponies I saved in this city. I should have just let Philtrum take him out and saved us the trouble.” Loopy huffed. “At least we know where to find him.”

“I have to stay here with Bon-Bon,” Lyra said. “I’ll be on the radio if you need me.”

“I’m all charged up,” Jasmine said. “I’m going with you.”

“Are you sure?” Loopy asked. “It could be dangerous.”

“I’m going because it’s dangerous,” Jasmine said. “Whatever magic he’s using, it doesn’t work on me. You need me to watch your back.”

Loopy nodded. “Help me with the armored suit. I want to let Black know I’m serious.”

Officer Beeswax shoved back against the barricade, hissing things under her breath that would have made a sailor blush. They’d been pushed halfway down Golgom Street, and the only thing the few sane officers left on the force had been able to get together were barricades designed to keep honest ponies from wandering into construction zones, not to keep out a mob. If the dazed ponies had been even a fraction more coordinated, it would all be over already.

“This isn’t working, Detective!” Beeswax said. “Half of them are just going around us, and the other half are going to push these stupid chain-link fences over and then trample us!”

“Just do what you can to keep them back,” Arabica said. “I don’t know what’s happening, but the longer we hold, the more time somepony has to figure it out!”

“Looks like you ponies need some help,” Mare Do Well said, dropping down. “I’ve been trying to get you on the police band for a while. Glad to see you’re not all zombies.”

“Most of the department wandered off,” Arabica said. He nodded to her armored costume. “Nice suit.”

“Thanks,” Mare Do Well said. “I’m guessing this means you aren’t free to help me go punch Black Valentino until he makes this mess stop?”

“I told you it was those stupid watches!” Beeswax snapped.

“You’re just angry you didn’t get one,” Arabica said. He looked at Mare Do Well. “Engine Heart Industries donated a whole case of them to the department to ‘improve communications and response times’.”

“More like he wanted to make sure you couldn’t stop him,” Mare Do Well corrected. “At least you two are okay.”

“After we interrogated Flashback it made me feel a little guilty about not supporting small businesses,” Arabica admitted. “I bought a watch made by a small shop. Keeps rubbish time but at least it doesn’t hypnotize you.”

“Did you bring a way to stop the riot?” Beeswax asked. “Because if you’re just here to chat you could at least help us hold up these barricades while you’re doing it!”

“Excuse me, um. I have an idea.” Jasmine stepped out into the open. “Hello, everypony. Jasmine Jewel here! This is my first field mission, so I’m a little nervous. I was waiting for a dramatic moment to enter the scene and--”

“You brought a pop star to a riot?” Beeswax asked, glaring at Mare Do Well. “You know what would be useful? Sleeping gas. Or a better fence. Or both!”

“At least let her tell us her idea,” Mare Do Well said.

“Ponies are musical creatures,” Jasmine said. “If I start singing, I might be able to get them to follow along. It probably won’t break the spell, but they’ll get distracted and stop trying to push through. It might buy you some time.”

“That’s a better idea than anything I’ve had in the last few minutes,” Arabica said. “If it doesn’t work at least we’ll have a nice theme tune while we get overrun.”

“Great!” Jasmine said, grinning. She hopped up on top of an overturned cart, trying to get high enough that she could be seen by most of the crowd. “Mare Do Well, you go on ahead. I’ll help out here and catch up when I can.”

Mare Do Well nodded. “Stay safe.” She flew up into the air, wings buzzing as she ducked over a rooftop.

Jasmine cleared her throat.

“Okay, everypony! Just for you, a debut of my new hit single, which I’m going to come up with right here and now!”

Jasmine tapped her hoof, and music seemed to bloom around her, mostly thanks to her built-in synthesizer but there was probably a little magic involved, too.

“The world is an open flower

And it will sing you every song

It will take you where you please

Wanna hear my song playing loud

Words of this song

Fell from the heart

I am sure that they know what my heart is for

Must be this song inside of my beating heart

Will you sing me a love song beside your heart?”

The crowd slowed and stopped, the dazed ponies watching and listening and starting to mouth along to the lyrics.

“I can’t believe this is working,” Beeswax muttered.

“She does have a great voice,” Arabica said. “Let’s hope she can keep it up.”

Engine Heart Industries was a hub of activity, but none of it involved ponies actually speaking to one another. Mare Do Well walked through the front doors, no security ponies in sight, and saw ponies in a daze moving in purposeful circles. It reminded her of something. It reminded her of the hive, back in the bad old days. Something about the way the ponies moved was too similar to each other, walking with the same pattern, standing in the same stance, little things that should have set them apart and just weren’t there, like a changeling not quite nailing a disguise.

“Mare Do Well,” a voice said, over the intercoms. “I should have expected this. Are you the one who tried to kill me, or the one who saved me?”

“Black,” Mare Do Well said, glaring up at the unseen speaker like she could sense him on a floor somewhere high up above. “I’m the one who saved you, but I’m starting to think it was a mistake. Let these ponies go, now.”

“I don’t think so,” Black said. “But I’m a reasonable pony. Why don’t you come upstairs and we can discuss this? The express elevator to your left is unlocked. Don’t worry, it’s not a trap. If I wanted to stop you from getting in, I would have had other options. Like this.”

All the ponies in the lobby stopped and turned towards Mare Do Well, glaring at her, ready to attack.

“I could have them subdue you and bring you to me, but, like I said, I’m a reasonable pony.”

The ponies turned back to what they’d been doing, mostly moving boxes and taking them upstairs and out of sight, moving more like ants than people, and Mare Do Well was one to know the difference. She shook her head and got on the elevator. It started moving before she had a chance to press the button.

She waited, listening to the smooth jazz, watching the numbers go up until, finally, the elevator dinged and the doors opened.

“Come in,” Black said, his voice booming.

Loopy stepped out onto a floor under construction, with a lot of ponies doing said construction in total silence. They unboxed wires and crystals and rivets and were slowly building antennae, the half-finished dishes pointing in every direction.

“Sorry about all the work going on,” Black said, stepping out into the open. “You know how it is. Very exciting times!”

He was wearing gold-plated armor, the edges catching the light and glittering with every motion. Glowing lines crawled across it, pulsing like a heartbeat.

“I’m guessing that outfit means you want to do this the hard way,” Mare Do Well said.

“You say that like you aren’t dressed for a scuffle,” Black said, motioning to Mare Do Well’s armor. “The last pony who wore that did try to murder me. Can you blame me for being a little paranoid?”

“So are you going to give me your big villain speech?” Mare Do Well asked. “Because I think I can predict it, more or less. You think ponies can’t be trusted to make decisions for themselves, society runs better if the enlightened few on top are in charge, yadda yadda.”

“That’s not too far off,” Black admitted. “It does miss the particulars. I’m really very proud of this, you know. Did you ever hear about Starlight Glimmer? Amazing mare. She developed a spell that stole cutie marks, left ponies with nothing.”

He started pacing, moving his hooves to emphasize his points as he spoke.

“It made me think, what a waste! She spent all that effort to design a society that wasn’t good at anything! She decided to lower everypony to the lowest common denominator, and that just made a mess. Nopony could do anything well. Total disaster. They’re lucky the town didn’t collapse on its own. But what about the opposite?”

“The opposite?” Mare Do Well asked.

Black walked over to one of the ponies welding steel beams. “This pony here? Probably never used a torch before in his life! But now he’s an expert! At least temporarily, because that’s what I need him for. Tomorrow he could be a great accountant, or a painter, or anything else! See, what I’ve done is, I’ve figured out the best way for ponies to work together.”

Mare Do Well looked around. “All you’ve done is make slaves.”

“Hey, they’re not slaves, they’re doing what they want. They’re a little out of it because the compulsion of those new cutie marks is pretty strong, but they’ll thank me later. I’ll even pay them - and I can make them accountants to sort out their own paychecks! Really, it’s a great system.”

“And they don’t get to choose?”

“It’s better for society if someone with vision decides,” Black said.

“I’m not going to let you use ponies like that. They’re not machines, and they’re not interchangeable.”

“Well, I think I’m proving you wrong on that, but I respect that we have a difference of opinion. I’m really glad we were able to have this talk, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave. And before you ask ‘you and what army’, remember I do have an army.”

“You’re not stallion enough to fight me yourself?” Mare Do Well taunted.

“Owch. That hurts.” Black shrugged placidly. “I’ve got people to do my fighting for me. Well, not people exactly-- tell you what, I’ll just introduce them.” He tapped his wrist, and six figures dropped down from above, hitting the floor hard enough to feel like a small earthquake.

The six synths, identical to the massive machine that had tried to steal the Etherite when she’d first met Steel Braver, glared at her, their faceplates gleaming from hidden seams as they scanned her.

“Meet Buster Shadow Units two through seven,” Black said. “Boys, take care of this little annoyance.”

Black Mark, Part 2

Six to one odds weren’t good at the best of times, and when each of those six was a deadly fighting machine made of armor plating and hydraulic muscle, the odds were more like an elaborate and probably very expensive suicide.

“One of these Buster Shadow synths was able to go right through you,” Black Valentino said. “The thing about the future I see for Equestria is that we’re not going to have just one of anything! Mass production is the future. No more isolated geniuses making one-offs, no more innovations dying with their creators.”

“Are you trying to make me a sales pitch for the weapon you’re threatening me with?” Mare Do Well asked.

“It’s a habit,” Black admitted. “Boys, if you would?”

The six machines lurched into motion. They wordlessly spread out, evenly spacing themselves around Mare Do Well. The display in her cowl tried to track them, outlining them and showing warnings at the edge of her vision as they surrounded her.

“Okay, fancy suit,” Mare Do Well muttered. “You don’t want to be scrapped, I don’t want to die, just help me out here.”

One of the machines in front of her lowered its head and moved. Mare Do Well jumped, and a second machine caught her from behind, knocking her back to the ground. The dazzling light on her armor’s chestplate flashed, and the synth about to trample her skidded to a stop. Mare Do Well rolled to the side, but a third machine caught her ribs with a metal hoof, hard enough to dent the armor and her ribs under it. She slammed into one of the exposed beams from the ongoing construction, one of the ponies working to rivet things together falling from above and landing hard enough to break something. Even as dazed as he was, the fallen stallion rolled on the ground, clutching his leg and hissing in pain.

“Woah, woah, careful!” Black said. “You could break something important! I want her dead, but keep the collateral damage to a minimum!”

“That’s really nice of you,” Mare Do Well groaned. “I’m pretty important, how about they don’t break me?”

Before she could come up with a really great plan for beating all six of them at once, Mare Do Well realized she was only looking at five of them. A steel hoof grabbed her from behind, pulling her into a chokehold. One of the other five launched itself at Mare Do Well. She raised a hoof, launching a net that caught the synth in a tangle of almost-unbreakable cables, then kicked back, hoofblades raising sparks on the unit holding her but not making it let go.

“Okay, we’ll have to do this… the hard way!” Mare Do Well grunted. She braced herself and pushed as much energy into her legs as she could, fighting to get leverage and pulling at the hoof on her neck.

The synth behind her froze up when it started to leave the ground. Mare Do Well gritted her fangs and, the suit’s built-in muscles kicking in, threw the heavy machine over her shoulder. It crashed into two of the others, knocking them over.

“That was harder than I thought it would be,” Mare Do Well said, panting for breath. “Do you think maybe I could just fight you one at a time? I need a little breather.”

The Buster Shadow unit in the net tore free, trailing bits of the sticky lines as it stood. The ones that had fallen in a heap got back to their hooves without any real apparent damage.

“Is that a no?” Mare Do Well asked.

A new sound cut through the construction, a high-pitched whine crossed with a bass rumble, like nothing Mare Do Well had ever heard before. The cowl helpfully pointed out where it was coming from, alerting her to movement to her right.

Something in bright red and white flew through the air, leaving a contrail as it cut through the rainy sky, the noise getting louder as it approached.

“Steel Braver?” Mare Do Well asked in confusion.

The synth flew through the open wall to the outside, the noise reaching deafening levels as he got inside, hovering on rigid metal wings, fans in the center throwing hurricane-force winds and keeping him in the air. He dropped down, the noise cutting off as the wings folded, moving like origami and somehow turning an impressive wingspan into just a backpack.

“It seems I got here just in time!” Steel Braver flashed Mare Do Well a neon smile and struck a pose. “Mark-2 Watches were banned from the PrinTecca building, so my support crew was unaffected. I was concerned I would have to resolve this without your assistance. Can you fill me in on the details?”

Black Valentino clicked his tongue. “Didn’t take that into account. Probably missing a lot of good ponies just because they don’t want competitor’s products running in their buildings. That’s a good note to make. Going to have to open up that market aggressively later.”

“He’s evil and trying to take over the city,” Mare Do Well said. “He’s also got a team of killer machines.”

“This seems relatively straightforward, then,” Steel Braver said. He moved next to Mare Do Well and struck a fighting pose, ready for the bigger synths to advance.

“Know any secret techniques for taking them out?” Mare Do Well asked.

“The analysis of the unit we destroyed showed that it was designed with an extremely rigid frame. A large enough shock will disable them, but lesser blows have no real effect,” Steel Braver said.

“All or nothing, huh?” Mare Do Well asked. “Okay. I can work with that.”

They moved at the same time without needing to say a word. Mare Do Well ducked left, Steel Braver running right. Mare Do Well had already spotted exactly what she needed. She shoved one of the ponies cutting steel with a torch out of the way, grabbing the tank of acetylene they’d been using it and throwing it at the nearest Buster Shadow unit. It caught the tank, snatching it out of the air easily.

“Gotcha,” Mare Do Well said, following it up with a precisely-aimed bolt of magic to the valve. She wasn’t much of a pyromancer, but she didn’t need to be. The tank ruptured, blowing up in the synth’s face and sending it to the ground as a burning heap.

“Please be careful!” Steel Braver said. “Explosives might injure innocent ponies in the area!”

“At least he cares about them,” Black said. “But you know, hero, maybe you shouldn’t be so quick to kill your brothers and sisters, either! I arranged that little sabotage at PrinTecca to cover up how many components and designs I had smuggled out of there. Turned out your creators didn’t pay their interns very well!”

“What?” Steel Braver asked, confused. He took a punch thanks to the distraction.

“These six -- well, five -- are basically like your half-brothers!”

“Oh. I see.” Steel Braver grabbed the next hoof before it could land, pushing it back. “Thank you for telling me.”

His wings flipped out, and he jumped, going over the Buster Shadow while still holding its hoof, the machine’s joints squealing and finally breaking, hydraulic fluid exploding out.

“I know that if I was being used to oppress ponies like this, and I had to follow your orders, I would want to be stopped!” Steel Braver said. He grabbed the Buster Shadow’s head from behind, engines in his wings going to full power. His rear hooves pressed hard into the machine’s rigid back.

With a shower of sparks, the synth’s head tore free.

“That’s all we can ask for,” Mare Do Well agreed. She waited near the edge of the floor and ducked to the side when one of the remaining units charged her, dazzling it with her chest flare and sending it skidding over the edge when its hooves found that enough rain had gotten inside to turn the floor into a sliding hazard. It launched grappling daggers as it fell, trying to catch the edge. Mare Do Well sliced its lines with a hoofblade, letting it fall and explode on a balcony forty floors below.

“You know, those things are expensive,” Black said.

“Maybe you should call them off,” Mare Do Well suggested. She ducked to the side, avoiding a wild swing. Steel Braver grabbed that unit’s tail, the armor on his fetlock opening up and launching a grappling line, the cable wrapping around the bigger synth, then lighting up with sparks as he delivered an electrical shock that crashed its systems.

The last two Buster Shadows moved back to back, their dagger-like line launchers snapping to a ready position.

Braver looked at Mare Do Well and nodded. They jumped at the same time, avoiding the red-hot spikes the synths launched at them and coming down on them from above, kicking the back-to-back Buster Shadows into each other, the shock from the combined impact breaking something inside them. They collapsed, smoke and sparks trailing from every joint.

“Nice work,” Mare Do Well said.

“I believe there’s only one thing left to do,” Steel Braver replied.

They turned to Black Valentino in his gleaming golden chrome armor.

“Wow. Just… wow,” Black sighed. “You know, with how much I spent on them between the development costs, reverse-engineering PrinTecca gear, paying ponies to keep quiet about what they were doing… I really expected to get a better return on my investment.”

“You should give up. If your toys couldn’t win, you don’t have much of a chance,” Mare Do Well warned.

“Any other time, you’d be right,” Black agreed. “I’m not much of a fighter. But you know what? Today, I feel pretty lucky.”

Mare Do Well rushed him.

Black tapped the black crystal plate on his wrist. “Boxer,” he said.

He ducked under the punch Mare Do Well threw with shocking speed, moving like she was in slow motion. The golden plates on his flank shifted, showing another screen there. A cutie mark showing a pony in silhouette throwing a punch blazing in neon green.

“What the--” Mare Do Well asked, before an uppercut hit her chin and sent her reeling back.

“I’m not a fighter, but there are plenty of fighters out there,” Black explained. He tapped his wrist again. “Judo.” The cutie mark on his flank changed to a black belt.

Steel Braver jumped at him, and Black caught him in midair, twisting his hoof and throwing him backwards like he was weightless.

“If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself,” Black sighed. “See, I can call on the best of the best. When I raise a hoof against you, it’s with the strength of a million ponies behind it. When I tell you to give up, it’s with a million voices. Nopony, not even one of the Princesses, has ever had this kind of power!” He laughed, snorting, and shaking his head. “It’s a little intoxicating.”

“I don’t care what special talents you pull out, you’re going down,” Mare Do Well said. “Go ahead. Judo. Boxing. Maybe you want to try Tai Chi and get some inner peace before I drag you off to prison.”

“You know, I think once this is over I will try that. It’s a really good idea, sort of a treat to reward myself and recenter,” Black said. “What I’m going to try first is much more exciting.” He tapped his wrist. “Pulse.”

“Pulse?” Mare Do Well asked.

A cutie mark of crossed lightning bolts appeared on his flank. Bright blue lines appeared in the air around Black like a lion’s mane, tracing out the runes of a spell.

“Oh buck--” Mare Do Well swore, just before the technomagic went off. Her vision went black before filling up with error messages. She felt the suit twisting like a pony having a seizure, the mechanical assist firing at random. Mare Do Well fought against it, struggling and finding the seam, loosening it up and changing shape, slimming herself down to slither free like she was shedding an armored shell.

“Electrothaumatic Pulse,” Black explained. “Your synthetic friend didn’t like it much either.” He motioned to the synth, who was lying prone with red text scrolling across the curved screen that made up his face.

“Cute,” Loopy said. Without the costume, she didn’t feel much like Mare Do Well. She stood up, brushing herself off and shifting back to normal. “You’d better hope that’s not permanent, or you’re going offline for good too.”

“Wow, that’s quite a threat from a hero,” Black said, amused. “This almost feels unfair. I took away all your fancy toys, and I’ve still got all the power of Seasaddle behind me!”

“I’m not scared of you, Black,” Loopy said.

“That’s okay. We’ve got all night to work on that.” Black tapped his wrist. “Karate.”

Loopy watched him take up a stance and waited for her moment. She had a bad idea. A really bad idea.

Black threw a straight punch, and Loopy grabbed his wrist. Instead of twisting it into a hold or trying to hit him in his smug face, she tapped the crystal panel.

“Plumbing,” she said, in Black’s voice.

The cutie mark on his armor changed to a plunger and a wrench. The strength left his stance, and he blinked in confusion. “What are you--”

She hit it again. “Swimming.” Again. “Ballet.” Again. “Medicine.” Again. “Baking.”

The cutie mark on Black’s flank flashed, static crackling on the display. It switched from one cutie mark to another at lightning speed, trying to accommodate all the requests at the same time.

“Stop it!” Black screamed. “I can’t--”

“Sleeping!” Loopy continued, adding more cutie marks. The screen was mixing them together, trying to display them all at once. “Cleaning! Ratcatching! Hatmaking!”

“Stop it!” Black pulled away, clutching his head. His armor was heating up, the cutie mark display on his flank just a blur now. “I can’t-- it’s too much! I need to-- I need to--!”

“You need to shut up,” Loopy said, punching him. Black’s eyes rolled up, and he fell over.

The ponies working around them on the construction all stopped at the same time, freezing in place before coming to their senses, looking around like they were coming out of a waking dream.

“Is this what it’s like when ponies are drunk?” Steel Braver asked. His face flashed back and forth between his face and a long list of error messages. “I do not like it.”

“It’s probably more like a hangover,” Loopy said, helping him up.

“I see you defeated Mister Valentino,” Steel said. Loopy patted his back.

“We defeated him. You get to do the hero walk with me. Especially since I can’t carry him on my own. You get to sit on him in the elevator to make sure he doesn’t act up.”

“I will be an excellent weight,” Steel said, saluting.

Epilogue

“He’s probably going to be in prison for the rest of his life,” Loopy said. She narrowed her eyes, focusing on the difficult task at hoof. Literally at hoof. She’d been given two sticks, and while Gwen was effortlessly picking up noodles and veggies, Loopy had no idea how the griffon was actually managing it.

“You can ask for a fork, you know,” Gwen said, amused.

“No, no, I’m gonna figure this out,” Loopy said. “Just keep eating so I can do what you’re doing.”

“I have talons. You literally can’t do what I’m doing,” Gwen said, raising one up and wiggling her long claws. “Not unless you decide to change shape.”

“I think it might be rude to do that in public,” Loopy said. “It would be like changing your clothing.”

“Just get a fork.”

“In a minute,” Loopy mumbled. “I think I almost have this figured out.”

A waitress walked up to the table. “Excuse me,” she said, sheepishly.

“See?” Gwen said. “Even the staff feels sorry for you.”

“Actually, um…” she looked nervous. “Can you come with me?”

“What’s wrong?” Loopy asked. She lowered her voice. “If somepony is in danger, I can help.”

“It’s not that,” the waitress said. “There’s a pony who wants to speak with you.”

“A fan,” Gwen said. “Why am I not surprised?”

“You’re just jealous,” Loopy said. “I’ll go say hello and be right back.”

“Sure, sure, just ditch me in the middle of a date,” Gwen sighed. “I’ll be here, but I’m not gonna stop eating.”

“I’ll be fast,” Loopy promised, getting up to walk with the waitress. She was led through the restaurant, the other ponies not really looking at her. Despite being unmasked after the fight with Black, her picture hadn’t actually shown up in the paper yet. It didn’t surprise her that the average pony on the street didn’t know who she was.

Loopy didn’t get nervous until they turned a little corner, navigating a half-wall put in to give privacy to a door. A door with a golden-armored guard standing outside it.

The waitress swallowed and motioned to the door. The royal guard knocked on the door, and it opened from within.

“Come in.”

Loopy swallowed, her throat suddenly dry, and walked inside slowly, aware the guard was watching her every motion.

Inside, a purple mare was sitting at a private table. She didn’t look up at Loopy, and motioned to the seat across from her. She was struggling with a pair of chopsticks, and after a moment gave up on them and picked up a fork with her magic.

“You know, I’ve been wanting to speak with you for a while,” Princess Twilight Sparkle said. “I’ve heard a lot of good things, but news from Seasaddle just doesn’t get out to the rest of Equestria very quickly. After seeing it for myself I think it’s obvious it needs a little more attention from the crown. I’m sorry you had to clean up such a big mess, but I promise it won’t happen again.”

“I wasn’t expecting, um…” Loopy coughed. “Sorry, your highness.”

Twilight looked up. “Hm? Oh. No, no, like I said, I’m the one who’s sorry. This isn’t like Our Town. This is a huge city, and there’s no excuse for how bad things have gotten. I’m planning on changing some things around here and keeping an eye on the city. You saved them but it’s up to the rest of us to keep them saved.”

“We can probably use the help,” Loopy agreed.

Twilight nodded. “Speaking of help, I’ve been putting some thought into a special project.” She produced a few folders, hovering them over to Loopy. “I’ve been talking to ponies with special talents for helping others. You’re not the only one who decided to wear a mask.”

Loopy glanced at the folders. Each was marked with a symbol. A blazing sun. A shark. A lightning bolt.

“I haven’t decided what to call the project yet,” Twilight said. “But how would you like to be a part of something bigger?”

Shadow of the Mare, Part 1

Seasaddle. Compared to every other city in Equestria, it seemed like it had arrived from the future and brought twenty years worth of rainclouds along with it. There were so few sunny days that they got marked on the calendars as holidays. According to the weather bureau, it was just a natural temperature inversion and vortex formation. The ponies who lived there coped in any way they could.

Most of them had found quite a bit of comfort in coffee. There was at least one coffee shop on every block, half of them selling overpriced and exotic drinks under neon signs of Queen Novo’s smiling visage in pale green, the other half with flickering red signs that deliberately evoked an older era and offering fresh donuts, fresher coffee, and nowhere to sit.

That made the Paper Filter a real rarity in Seasaddle. While the two huge megachains fought for territory, they hung on as one of the few independent cafes. It was slower, quieter, playing classical music from vinyl records instead of blaring the latest Jasmine Jewel hit on repeat.

“See, this is real coffee,” Bon-Bon said, watching from their booth as the barista worked. The pegasus carefully set paper cones into stands, filling them with just the right amount of freshly-ground coffee before slowly pouring nearly-boiling water on them with careful, circular motions. “The other places use those huge machines, and I swear I can taste the metal.”

“Yeah, but it also takes forever to get a cup,” Lyra groaned. “Are you sure we can’t go and get Frappamochiatos from Novo’s?”

“Those are just sugar, cream, and caramel,” Bon-Bon said. “There’s barely even one shot of espresso in a whole cup!”

“Yeah but they’re really good,” Lyra countered.

“I’ll buy you one when the job is over,” Bon-Bon said. The barista placed their cups carefully in front of them and walked away, thankfully not offended by what Lyra had said. The unicorn immediately started pouring spoonful after spoonful of sugar into her cup.

“What?” Lyra asks.

Bon-Bon sighed. “Nothing. Do you remember the mission?”

Lyra straightened up, her voice lowering so it wouldn’t carry. “We’re stalking Whisper West. She’s an author.”

“We’re not stalking her. We’re staking out her book signing,” Bon-Bon corrected. “You need to pay more attention during mission briefings.”

“Yeah, but this kind of seems like a waste of time,” Lyra admitted. “I mean, we’re really chasing this?”

She picked up a newspaper and put it on the table between them. The headlines were taken up by the city’s real celebrities, the tech barons that led the huge corporations that employed almost everypony in Seasaddle. It was gossip, mostly rumors of a big reveal at an upcoming expo - there was always an upcoming expo - but down at the bottom of the front page was real news. Or at least their employer thought so.

A sighting of the infamous Mare Do Well.

“Whisper West is having a book signing today,” Bon-Bon said. “It’s a chance to get close to her without drawing attention. Her series about Mare Do Well includes classified information that was never released to the public, and the only pony who should know about it is the real Mare Do Well.”

“It could be a coincidence,” Lyra proposed. “Even if it isn’t, are we really gonna arrest her for writing about it?”

“No, we’re going to investigate. And if needed… we’ll see. You have your badge, right?”

“I only forgot it once!”

“Once was too many times.”

The bell over the door jingled, and a mare walked in, shaking the rain out of her mane. She was an older unicorn with a streak of grey going through her mane and a faded coat that left her almost monochrome. She was carrying a box almost as big as she was, and waved to the barista.

“I’m going to set up in my usual place,” she said.

The barista nodded and got to work, obviously familiar enough with her order that she didn’t need to be told.

“That’s her,” Bon-Bon whispered.

Lyra half-turned to watch as the unicorn started setting things up, producing a few books from the crate she’d been carrying and arranging them on a table as paperweights keeping the corners of a banner in place as it hung off the edge of the table.

Meet Whisper West, Author of The Dark Mare!

A framed box went behind her, containing a distinct purple uniform, the chest emblem prominent. Whisper settled herself down behind her table and put on a wide-brimmed hat, smiling up at the barista as her coffee appeared. It didn’t last long, because almost the second she sat down, a pony ran up to her like she’d been spring-loaded and waiting for this moment.

“You really think she’s Mare Do Well?” Lyra whispered.

“Mare Do Well was a changeling. She could look like anypony.” Bon-Bon watched her carefully like she could see through the disguise if she just stared hard enough.

“Hi!” the slim, beautiful pony said, with a chipper voice that didn’t quite fit the elegant body. “I am so, so happy to be here! I’m Philtrum, and I am Mare Do Well’s biggest fan. So, sort of your biggest fan! I have copies of all your books!”

“I’m always happy to meet somepony who enjoys my works,” Whisper said. She sounded tired but gave her fan a genuine smile. “Do you have them with you?”

While the two chatted, Bon-Bon nodded to Lyra.

“Finish up,” Bon-Bon whispered. “We need to go talk to her.”

Lyra downed the rest of her coffee, leaving a sludge of undissolved sugar at the bottom of the cup, and the two walked over to stand in line.

“...and I was just so inspired,” Philtrum said. “Because if she could change and become so amazing, imagine how much I could do!”

“That’s what heroes are for,” Whisper agreed. “They inspire us. That’s why I wrote these books. I was inspired by the real Mare Do Well and wanted to imagine what her story was really like. I had to put in some details myself, and I changed the names to protect the innocent, but the core of it is what’s important. The moral and message.”

“Totally!” Philtrum said. She glanced back. “Oh gosh, I’m so sorry, I’m taking up all your time. Thank you so much for signing these!” She picked up her books and walked past Lyra, humming to herself happily.

“I do love it when I meet a real fan,” Whisper West sighed. “So, you two must have been waiting for me too! I’ve got copies of The Dark Mare, volume 4, and--”

“Actually, we’re here for something else,” Bon-Bon said. She produced her badge and nudged Lyra until the unicorn did the same. “We’re with SMILE. We need to discuss some recent events with you.”

“Recent events?” Whisper West asked, confused.

“Mare Do Well,” Lyra said. “Ponies have spotted her around town.”

“It’s probably foals in Nightmare Night costumes,” Whisper said. “That’s where these came from.” She tipped her hat to the framed costume. “They’re not very good for keeping the rain away but they’re great props during the signing.”

“If it’s foals, then they’ve been taking ponies off the streets and leaving them in comas,” Bon-Bon said. “According to experts, they were drained of love. More than that, the notes that were left with them match what was in your book.”

“What are you saying?” Whisper asked, confused.

“Are you Mare Do Well?” Lyra asked.

Whisper held up her hooves. “I’m just an author! I can’t put ponies into comas! And if somepony read my book and got the wrong ideas, I’d be glad to help you stop them.”

“Good,” Bon-Bon said. “Then you won’t mind coming with us.”

Whisper West looked up at the huge, steel-clad lobby. It made her feel tiny, with brightly-lit pillars showcasing the latest and greatest in tech towering overhead as if even the product was bigger and more important than she was.

“This is Engine Heart Industries,” she whispered. “What are we doing here?”

“Mare Do Well sent a letter to the local police about corruption up at the top,” Bon-Bon explained. “She implicated Black Valintino as being personally responsible for a number of crimes.”

“W-what?” Whisper gasped.

Lyra flashed her badge to the massive grey-suited ponies in the lobby, and they backed off. Whisper hadn’t even noticed they had been surrounded until the security force disengaged, like they’d been waiting for the right moment to ambush them.

“We can’t reveal details,” Bon-Bon said.

“Mostly because we don’t know them,” Lyra grumbled.

“It’s an internal matter,” said a booming voice from near the elevator. A thin stallion stood in front of an open elevator. He was the color of paper that had been in the sun for too long, with a mane like ink. “Though we are of course thankful for Princess Twilight’s kindness.”

“She actually recommended you have the local police on alert,” Bon-Bon said.

“And that would only serve to drive our stock prices down,” the stallion said. “Just like that note that falsely accused me. It’s better to keep things quiet. Most likely it’s simply a competitor trying to gain an advantage in a novel way.”

“Whisper West, let me introduce you to Black Valintino, CEO of Engine Heart Industries,” Bon-Bon said.

He stepped forward and shook Whisper’s hoof. “Charmed,” he said. “I assume you three are here to keep me safe? It’s unneeded, you know. My private security is more than up to the task, and won’t draw media attention like involving the police.”

“We’re just here to investigate Mare Do Well,” Lyra said. “We’ll try not to get in the way of your security arrangements.”

“As you will,” Black said dismissively. “Just remember you aren’t here to investigate me. If you want to pry into my own activities, those are company secrets and you’ll need a warrant, no matter who sent you.”

“Of course,” Bon-Bon said. “We’ve got a very strict purview. We just want to keep an eye on you while you’re in public, in case Mare Do Well makes good on her threat and attacks.”

“If she even exists,” Black noted. “They’re just stupid stories for foals.”

Whisper glared at him as he brushed past them.

“My security can handle stories,” Black said. He nodded to them, and a team of three big stallions moved into position around him. Each one was armed with a slim weapon that looked like a crossbow stock studded with small gems and black metal boxes.

“What are those?” Lyra whispered.

“Boltcasters,” Black said. “They fire magical bolts.”

“Oh, like glintlocks,” Lyra said. “I remember hearing about those. They usually explode at the worst moment.”

“Glintlocks never caught on because they were dangerous to the user. These are only dangerous to other ponies,” Black assured her. “My company is hoping for a big sale to the Crystal Empire soon.”

“Why? They don’t need weapons for anything.”

Black Vanintino’s smile was like a snake’s. “Everypony needs weapons. And once somepony has the newest toy, everypony around them needs the same thing to keep pace with them.”

Lyra frowned. Bon-Bon rolled her eyes.

“Have you ever seen the Monorail?” Black asked. “It’s far more advanced than the trains in other parts of Equestria. I have places to go! You can tag along. I’d be a poor host if I didn’t at least entertain you during your wild goose chase.”

“Are you sure we’re going to be much help?” Lyra asked quietly. “This stallion’s security make the Royal Guard look like the Canterlot Chess Club.”

Bon-Bon glanced up at the burly stallions slowly pacing the monorail car. It wasn’t terribly different from any other train she’d been on, even if the decor was all plastic and steel. As far as she could tell the main difference between it and a traditional train was that the monorail followed only one rail, and somepony had decided there was no reason trains should stay on the ground, so they were moving along six stories above the pavement.

“We’re just here to find the truth,” Bon-Bon reminded her. “We aren’t here to protect him. Besides, if my guess is right, Miss West has some hidden talents.”

She nodded subtly to the author, who was watching the cityscape go by. The monorails’ windows were almost as large as its doors, giving a panoramic view of the city far below.

“I think I can see my house from here,” Whisper said.

“The monorail is one of my proudest achievements,” Black Vanintino said, stepping up to the window next to her. “The city used to have a subway system. It was a money sink. All the rain just meant the tunnels had to be constantly pumped out, and worse, it was all hidden! Ponies couldn’t see how amazing their city is! We built the monorail high up, so it could never flood, and we made it a shining symbol of the city. Ponies can see and hear it go by, and they get to look out at the city as it grows. You can see your house from here, and that is entirely on purpose.”

“We?” Whisper asked.

“No one pony builds a system like this,” Black said. “There are stations in all the major tech company headquarters, city hall, tourist spots… we had to come together as a city and agree to work with our rivals to get it built, and we made the world a little better for everypony, especially the common worker out there who uses it to get to work.”

“And they really use it?”

“All of my employees have free monorail passes as part of their benefits package. It means I know they can get there on time, as a team. Because it’s so reliable, it means things work like a well-oiled machine.”

The monorail rumbled like somepony had put bits on the rail. The overhead lights flickered.

“Well-oiled?” Bon-Bon asked, getting up and looking around like she’d be able to spot the problem from inside the train car.

Black turned to one of his security stallions. “Check the other cars. It was probably just a power surge.”

The big pony nodded and motioned to the two other intimidating ponies in the car. They moved as a well-trained unit to the steel-clad door that opened into the next train car and drew their boltcasters, ready for anything.

Fog started seeping in around the door. The security backed off.

“Fire?” Lyra asked.

“No, it’s just mist,” Bon-Bon said. “Maybe the weather is rolling in.”

“We’re six stories up. No fog gets that high!”

The door slid open, and a dark shape was silhouetted in the gloom beyond, the mist pouring around it as it glided closer. One of the security ponies fired, a bolt of orange magic streaking through the short distance and somehow missing. In the flash, everypony in the car could see who was standing there.

“Is that… Mare Do Well?” Lyra asked.

They had the wide-brimmed hat and full-face mask, but the rest of the details seemed wrong. Instead of a slim bodysuit, plates of interlocking armor silently shifted with every step. Her armored shoes had a glint to the edge that showed where they were sharpened into hoofblades. Red eyes cut through the shadows, glowing with an electric light that flickered like the halogen bulbs above.

“It’s not like any Mare Do Well I ever wrote about,” Whisper West said.

“Take her down,” Black ordered.

The security ponies fired, and the magical bolts bounced off of Mare Do Well’s armor as she stalked forward, the mist coming with her, the edge of her ragged cape making it difficult to tell where she ended and the fog began.

One of them threw his weapon in frustration, and Mare Do Well batted it out of the air, the edge of her hoofblade tearing it in half. The security pony on her other side saw the opening and lunged at her, trying to tackle her. She spun and kicked, both back hooves hitting the tip of his jaw and sending him halfway through the monorail’s huge windows. The last one grabbed him before he could fall entirely out, pulling him back inside.

Mare Do Well raised a hoof at the pony who had thrown his boltcaster before he could move, launching a net at him with a puff of compressed gas. He was caught off his hooves and thrown into one of the seats, the edge of the net sealing itself to the surface like it was welded there.

The last security pony stood up from where he’d gotten his comrade back inside and assumed a fighting stance, staying between her and his employer. Mare Do Well watched him slowly shift from one ready stance to another.

“He’s an expert martial artist,” Black Valintino whispered. “He fought professionally before I hired him away for a job where he didn’t get paid a pittance to get hit in the head every day.”

The fog around Mare Do Well cleared for a moment, and the logo on her chest lit up. There was a flash of light like a lightning bolt or a hundred cameras going off at once and the security pony stumbled back, clutching his eyes with his hooves. Mare Do Well slammed a hoof down on the back of his neck, sending him to the ground. She stepped over his still form.

“Black Valintino,” Mare Do Well said, her voice echoing and distorted.

“What do you want?” Black asked, stepping behind Bonnie and Lyra, just in case they could buy him more time.

“I came for you,” she said. She raised a hoof and… hesitated, glancing behind Black.

The door to the rear-most car opened, without quite as much fog or drama as the first. Whisper West was the closest to it, and her eyes went wide. She stumbled back in alarm.

A pony in a somewhat faded, somewhat tattered, but well-tailored costume stepped forward. They adjusted their wide-brimmed hat, cape fluttering in the wind from the monorail’s broken window. The armored pony reacted with alarm, stumbling back and almost falling.

“The real Mare Do Well…” Whisper gasped.

Black Market Goods, Part 1

It had been a long night, and a perfectly normal patrol, which was a wonderful change from what Mare Do Well had been dealing with. So far, she’d stopped a few muggings, one bar brawl that had spilled out into the street, and just sat and watched somepony tagging walls because she needed a break and vandalism wasn’t the kind of crime that deserved to be fought with a punch to the back of the head. The kid doing the street art had some real talent, too.

“No killer machines, no ponies with weird magic powers, no assassins trying to hunt me down…” Mare Do Well stretched. “This is practically like a vacation!”

“Maybe Seasaddle is finally done throwing strange stuff at you,” Bon-Bon suggested over the radio. “Even the weather isn’t too bad.”

It was just a drizzle, which for Seasaddle meant it was a night (almost) clear of the usual constant deluge.

“When you say that it makes me nervous,” Mare Do Well retorted. “You know whenever I get too comfortable something goes wrong. Has anything come up with reports from SMILE? Giant monster attacks coming this way, or more VIPs that I’m expected to foalsit?”

“Nothing that concerns us. The Saddle Arabian princess, the one with the name nopony can pronounce, she’ll be visiting Canterlot, but she’s not scheduled to even come to this side of the country. If you really want to get involved, we could head to Canterlot and ask if they need a few extra hooves.”

“No thanks,” Mare Do Well said. “I could use a week or two where I don’t end up with new scars.”

“If there’s nothing exciting going on, want to call it an early night?” Bon-Bon asked. “We’ll have the police scanner running in case something comes up where they could actually use some help.”

“That’s probably a good idea. I’m going to head back the long way through Union Square. It shouldn’t take more than an hour, and at least I’ll be able to say I patrolled the whole city, more or less.”

“Just be careful. There might not be anything big going on there right now, but you know Union Square is basically Jade Triangle central. The police just let the crime families run things as long as they keep it quiet. Some of them might try and take you out just to make a name for themselves.”

“I know. That’s why I want to take a pass through there,” Mare Do Well said. “A few black eyes might remind them not to think of me as a target.”

“Just remember if you get into trouble the police are going to be really late in coming to help,” Bon-Bon warned. Mare Do Well was already on the move, flitting from rooftop to ledge to windowsill, avoiding streetlights and anypony who felt like they were paying too much attention.

“That’s nothing new. I’ll let you know if anything comes up.”

Union Square was one of the bad parts of town, at least at night. During the day, it was a tourist trap, in a very literal sense. Exotic foods and goods were at every corner, and the architecture was overbuilt and crowded and disorienting. It wasn’t exactly dangerous to the average pony - most just ended up getting overcharged for some mass-produced junk that they were told was an Old Unicornian relic, and a few unlucky tourists got food poisoning when they ate at the wrong street stall, but the Families that ran Union Square did a reasonable job of keeping it friendly to outsiders. They knew where the bits came from, and even if they broke a few legs here and there to make sure ponies knew who was in charge, it was better than the alternative.

At night, though, Union Square could be one of the deadliest parts of the city. That was when the real thugs came out. The families of the Jade Triangle would deliberately brush up against each other, cause fights that never got reported, extort lost and innocent ponies with honey traps and fake bills at bars and restaurants.

When she’d first come to the city, Loop d’Loop had rented an apartment in Union Square. It was a great place to live for a pony who absolutely wasn’t afraid of some random horse with a knife and could smell a scam from the next block over. She still had fond memories.

She lingered at the edge of one of the major roads, the view to the street below choked with neon signs and decorated arches stretching from one side of the street to the other. Everything was bright colors and sounds and emotions, and it made her feel a little more alive. In fact, it was so distracting she almost missed seeing a dark shape conspicuously carrying a heavy-looking bag slip out of a penthouse right across the thoroughfare.

Mare Do Well watched them slink catlike through the shadows. She was too far away to get a real read on them or see their face, but to call it suspicious was putting it lightly. She calculated where the thief was like to go and moved, cutting her off less than a block away.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she rasped, using her spooky, intimidating voice when she appeared right in front of the cat burglar.

The thief stopped and stood up to her full height, over a head taller than Mare Do Well. She was wearing all black, and that included her feathers.

“Gwen?” Mare Do Well asked, a little surprised to see her, especially like this.

“I didn’t know I was so famous even ponies on the street would recognize me,” Gwen purred.

“We’re not on the street.”

“It’s just a saying,” Gwen shrugged. “I’d love to chat, but I’ve got places to be.”

“What do you have there?” Mare Do Well asked, pointing at the bag she was carrying.

“Nothing important,” Gwen said. “Look, how about you just forget about seeing me? I’ll owe you one, and I can be very appreciative.”

“I don’t think that’s going to work out,” Mare Do Well said. She reached for the bag. Gwen grabbed her hoof with a black-clawed talon and narrowed her gaze.

“That’s mine,” she said sharply.

“I really doubt that,” Mare Do Well said. She twisted her hoof, breaking Gwen’s grip. “You stole whatever that is. If you really want me to forget I saw you, how about you put that back where you found it?”

“That’s not going to work for me,” Gwen said. She glanced to the side like she’d heard something, and Mare Do Well couldn’t resist the impulse to follow her gaze. Gwen took that moment of distraction to dive off the edge of the building, diving down towards Union Square’s main street.

“Hey!” Mare Do Well shouted, buzzing after her.

Gwen looked back in surprise, apparently not expecting an aerial pursuit. She redoubled her efforts, flying between lines strung with flags and banners, around a moving neon sign, and under and around an archway, close enough to the crowd below to almost touch them.

Mare Do Well kept at her, her smaller frame making it easier for her to slip through the same obstacles. Despite that, the griffon was amazing at precision flight, slipping through small gaps with machine-like precision.

Gwen made a mistake with a twist towards an alleyway. She made a decision too late and hesitated, and that gave Mare Do Well the time to catch up and crash into her, both of them falling to the shadowed alleyway floor, rolling across the pavement until they came to a halt with Mare Do Well on top of her.

“You’re pretty good,” Gwen admitted.

“I shouldn’t be surprised,” Mare Do Well said, using her weight to hold Gwen down. “You were slippery at the charity dinner, too.”

Gwen raised an eyebrow. “The charity dinner?” She shifted, rolling with her powerful wings and getting on top of Mare Do Well, their bodies pressed together, both of them breathing heavily. “Wait a minute. You’re the pony that was impersonating Jasmine, aren’t you? You almost did a good job, but I know her very personally.”

“I didn’t think Jasmine was involved with anyone like that,” Mare Do Well said.

“It’s not like that. She’s just… like a sister to me,” Gwen said. “I guess I should play nice since you were helping her out.” She let some of the pressure off her razor-sharp talons. “I could have taken you out if I really wanted to.”

“So could I,” Mare Do Well said.

“Mm.” Gwen purred and smiled. “You did have some nice moves, even when you were pretending to be Jasmine Jewel. What was it you said? You were taking self-defense classes?”

“You’re the one who managed to get herself free and tried to run,” Mare Do Well said. “I get the feeling you’re used to dangerous situations.”

“I’m very dangerous myself,” Gwen whispered.

“So what, you decided to find a little more danger?” Mare Do Well nodded to the bag, lying on the ground next to them. “You realize one of the Families has to own that penthouse, right? Whatever you think that’s worth, they’re not going to let you get away with it. It’s not even going to be easy giving it back without somepony getting hurt.”

“I need the bits,” Gwen said. “I’m on a time limit.”

“If you’re in some kind of trouble, maybe I can help,” Mare Do Well offered.

Gwen smirked. “You’re just saying that because I’m a pretty face.”

“That’s not the only reason. You tried to save my life back when that crazy guy was going on about synths and conspiracies. At least until you ditched me.”

“In my defense, I thought a bomb was about to go off.”

“My point is, whatever trouble you’re in? That’s just going to cause more of it. For your own sake, let’s go put it back, and I’ll take you to a little hole in the wall that serves some decent griffon food. My treat.”

“Are you asking me out on a date?” Gwen asked, deeply amused.

“Only if you’re willing to put that thing back so I know you won’t have a whole gang of ponies coming at you with long knives.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Gwen said. “I didn’t take it for my sake. I’ll risk the knives.”

“They’re over here!”

Gwen and Mare Do Well looked to the side. Ponies crowded at the edge of the alleyway, framed by the light of the neon-covered street behind them. All of them had the lightly-scarred hard-edged look that came from a life of proving how strong they were by finding inventive ways to start fights.

“Looks like I’m getting too popular,” Gwen said, letting Mare Do Well go and stepping back to let her stand.

“I warned you,” Mare Do Well muttered. “Let’s get out of here.”

Gwen grabbed up the heavy bag and they bolted towards the other end of the alleyway. Halfway there, more ponies stepped out of the shadows.

“I think we’re surrounded,” Gwen said. “I guess you were right about them being a little upset. I didn’t think they’d organize this quickly.”

Mare Do Well glanced around, then kicked a door open, pulling Gwen with her. “This way!” She shouted. They ran into a kitchen, steam and spice filling the air. Chefs turned to look at them, confused, and started to shout. Mare Do Well glanced back at the thugs starting to get in the door, grabbed a frying pan full of what smelled like the hottest curry in Seasaddle, and flung it at the approaching crowd. The lead ponies screamed and grabbed at their eyes.

“Oh, that can’t feel good,” Gwen said.

“Go out the front!” Mare Do Well snapped, pushing her. “How many alarms did you set off?!”

“I didn’t think I set any off!” Gwen yelled. They ran out of the kitchen, surprising a waitress and making her drop the plates she was holding.

Everypony in the dining room stared at them, and they didn’t even get halfway across the room before the thugs behind them shoved their way into the dining room and shouted after them. A table of rough-looking ponies sprang up from their table and ran in front of the door.

“You picked the wrong restaurant,” Gwen said, coming to a halt.

“Not a fan of spicy food?” Mare Do Well asked. “You take the ones in front of the door. Get out if you can. I’ll watch your back.”

“That’s very self-sacrificing of you,” Gwen quipped.

Before Mare Do Well could come up with a good comeback, the thugs charged. She kicked an empty chair into the nearest one, then ran straight for it, jumping from the seat of the chair to snap-kick him in the forehead. He dropped like a rock, right into the hooves of the pony behind him.

“I should have known tonight was going too easily,” Mare Do Well muttered. She ducked, dodging a thrown kitchen knife.

She turned to a table full of tourists who just looked frozen and terrified. One of them snapped a picture. Mare Do Well grabbed the tablecloth and pulled, yanking it right off the table. Somehow, the plates stayed in place. The tourists politely clapped.

Mare Do Well tossed the cloth over the approaching thugs and looked back at Gwen. Two of the ponies blocking the way to the door were already down, and she was struggling for control of a knife with a third.

“You doing okay?” Mare Do Well asked.

“This really isn’t my kind of thing!” Gwen grunted.

“Try doing it for a living!” Mare Do Well jumped on top of a table to dodge a wild swing from one of the ponies struggling to get out of the tablecloth. “This was a pretty quiet night until you got involved!”

“Next time I steal a dragon egg, I’ll make sure to fit it into your schedule!” Gwen shouted. She elbowed the pony she was fighting, twisting the knife out of his hooves and throwing him into the door, shattering the glass and putting him out into the street.

“A dragon egg?!” Mare Do Well shouted, backing up to the edge of the table she was standing on, silverware falling to the floor.

“Don’t worry, it’s not kidnapping, it’s collateral!” Gwen said. The last pony between her and freedom screamed and fell back when his face collided with her talons. “I can cash it in for more bits than you could carry!”

“It’s trouble is what it is!” Mare Do Well shouted.

Gwen edged through the broken glass of the front door, carefully stepping around the shards. The heavy bag got caught on a protruding shard and she cursed, tugging at it. The cloth tore a little, something gleaming and glowing from within. She paused and tried to free it without tearing it worse.

“Watch out!” Mare Do Well shouted.

Gwen didn’t react in time. The pony she’d kicked into the street ran into her, his whole weight slamming into her side. She made a sound like an angry, injured eagle, kicking him away and falling to one knee, pulling a blade from her side and letting it clatter to the ground.

“Great,” Gwen growled. She yanked the bag free.

“Are you okay?” Mare Do Well asked. She ducked through the door, looked around, and jumped up to grab a handle, riding it down to the ground and taking a steel security shutter with her, blocking off the whole front of the restaurant.

“It’s not as bad as it looked,” Gwen claimed. She got to her feet. “It might be a good idea for me to avoid Union Square for a while.”

“No kidding,” Mare Do Well said. “That way.” she pointed, leading the griffon into a quiet cul-de-sac and holding up a hoof for quiet. A few thugs ran past, not spotting them.

Mare Do Well took a deep breath. “Okay. We should be safe. If we go one street over we’re outside of their territory. There’s a subway entrance around there, too, so we can get off the street.

“Good idea,” Gwen said. “Thanks for the help.” She hefted the bag and took a step, wobbling and trying to steady herself. “I’ll give you a cut of the profits after I take care of some personal business.”

“Hold on,” Mare Do Well ordered. “We need to talk about--”

Gwen collapsed, holding her side and panting. “Actually, I think I might be hurt worse than I thought,” she said, her voice tight and high with pain.

“Let me look,” Mare Do Well said.

“No!” Gwen backed up, forcing herself to move. “Just back off!”

“Don’t be stupid. You got stabbed,” Mare Do Well said. “I know some basic first-aid. I can get you to a doctor, at least--”

“No doctors,” Gwen snapped. “They can’t help.”

“Okay, this is some kind of weird griffon thing, and I’m going to ignore you--” Mare Do Well dodged a weak attempt to claw her and pried Gwen’s talon away from her wound. “--and try to stop the… bleeding.”

Mare Do Well had seen plenty of ponies get hurt. She’d seen more of what a pony’s insides looked like than she liked. She had no idea what she was looking at now. Right under her fur, there were translucent sheets of plastic shot through with gold filigree. Dimly visible through them were wires and metallic struts and blinking lights.

Gwen looked away, going limp like her strength had left her the second she couldn’t use it to protect her secret.

“You’re a synth,” Mare Do Well said. “You’re-- how is that even possible? I’ve seen synthetic ponies! They look like a forklift and a unicorn had a kid, not like… a normal person.”

“I can’t go to a regular doctor,” Gwen muttered. “They can’t help.”

“So where am I supposed to take you? A mechanic?”

“There’s a professor at Seaside University,” Gwen panted. “She can help. Professor Valley. She’s the only one. You can’t tell anyone about her. About me. I can’t let this hurt her.”

“Fine,” Mare Do Well said.

“Promise it!” Gwen demanded. “You don’t tell anyone!”

“I won’t tell anyone,” Mare Do Well said. She offered Gwen her shoulder, and the griffon leaned into her, letting her help. “Even if they’d be a lot of help moving your fat butt.”