The next Friday...

As I stepped in the front door behind Twilight, I let out a quiet yawn. Today wasn't exactly what I would call productive—especially in comparison to the last several school days. See, the rest of the students started the school year at the end of August, and the week before I began attending Crystal Prep, the students had their midterm exams in applicable courses. For me, they'd given me a week to settle in, and then I'd had a number of catch-up exams all this week. Twilight was kind enough to give me some of her study notes from last year, but it was still exhausting.

Today, it was basically, come in, do one last exam, go to phys-ed, and then go home because the afternoon was dedicated to parent-teacher meetings. I spent the class period swimming in the school pool with the rest of the students. Although I'd spent plenty of times swimming in the lake at Central Park, I'd done so naked; even though it was my second time in the school pool, I was still unused to the school-issued swimsuit that I was required to wear.

On the bright side, it was an excellent opportunity for me to take advantage of my new bus pass. When I found out about the half-day in the middle of the week, I'd spent a portion of that evening making my plans. The bus routes were memorised, and I knew my way to the craft store nearest Central Park. On top of it all, I was even being given some spending money because I did chores at home without complaint.

Unsurprisingly, Twilight rushed upstairs to change. That was something I'd noticed her doing a lot lately. Ever since last Wednesday, she's spent an ungodly amount of time working in her lab with the door locked. Something lit a fire under her plot, and she'd even stopped doing the anime showings that she got me used to. Even a visit from Starlight wasn't able to get her to come out. The only time she ever came out was to get food, get parts, use the bathroom, or go to school.

Today was no different. After taking my shoes off and going up to my room to change, I heard her thundering back down the stairs and out the back. Given the number of times over the week she'd come back in to fetch parts from the supply closet—making her store her electronic parts inside the house was apparently the only way they could make her come back inside from time to time—I could only imagine that her portable energy scanner prototype was going through revisions and rebuilds.

As I threw on my jeans, my cutie-mark t-shirt, and the black and green hoodie, I mentally ran through a checklist of everything I wished to purchase today. One of those small whiteboards and dry erase markers wouldn't go amiss; it'll save on pen ink and paper from the notepad. Then there's the chalk I need for my magic experiments. I could get some plain white chalk, but then again, if I make a habit of practicing it might be good to mark the different components I remember down in different coloured chalk and see if I can't derive something. I paused for a moment as I considered that, and then shook my head. Slipping the strap of my goggles around my neck, I started placing my uniform into the laundry basket I'd been provided. I'm getting ahead of myself. A small box of white chalk to start out with. Maybe some post-its and pencils, just in case.

Once I'd put both my uniform, swimsuit, and PT clothes into the laundry basket, I took my tablet out of its case and plugged it into the charger. Content that I'd left my personal belongings in a tidy manner, I grabbed my notepad, pen, and my wallet—they insisted I have something to keep my bus pass and currency in—and stuffed them both into the front pocket of my hooded sweatshirt. Rather than use the shoes I had for school, however, I grabbed the boots we grabbed while at Walmart that first day—the black ones with the green laces.

Exiting my room, I made my way downstairs and set my boots down in front of the door. Before putting my boots on, however, I went to Velvet's office door and knocked. While waiting to be invited in, I wrote out a quick message on the notepad. "Come in!"

I walked in and held up the notepad. When she didn't turn away from the work on her computer monitor, possibly expecting me to have the tablet with me, I clicked my tongue. Sure enough, she seemed surprised to see me holding up the notepad. I'm going out for a bit. I plan on catching the bus down to the Central Park area, and visiting a craft store. Since I will be by myself, I won't have the tablet on me. I wasn't stupid; someone would absolutely try and nab it, regardless of my disability.

Velvet brushed some purple and grey locks out of her face as she read the note. "As long as you're back before dark, that's fine," she said in a motherly tone. "Just to be safe however, I want you to keep this in your wallet." She held out a square of paper. "If something happens to you, I want people to know to contact us."

Accepting the paper, I gave it a quick read. 'My name is Eventide Construct. I am mute, and if I am injured, unable to write or otherwise communicate, please call this number.' It definitely was a phone number that looked like Velvet's. 'If I seem lost, please bring me to 6 Golden Oaks Dr. in the Ponyville Plaza gated community.' Without any further thought, I took out my wallet and slid the paper into one of those card-shaped slots.

"Other than that, make sure to have fun," she added as she watched me put the wallet back in the front pocket of the hooded sweatshirt. There was a bit of a playful smile on her face. "After what happened the other week, I was starting to get a bit concerned that you were going to end up only ever going out when necessary, like Twily."

Okay, that's a bit of a fair assessment, I guess. After all, aside from my getting arrested, going to school, and the odd time we've been out to the shops, I haven't really left Golden Oaks. I could see why she might be a bit concerned that I might become a bit of a shut-in, afraid to go out. Still, I began writing another message. If you're going to parent teacher meetings and the maths teacher says I'm a bit of a know-it-all, I just want it known that he started it and I'm pretty sure it's in retaliation for warning him about the ADA. I flashed her the page, and then exited her office.

I quickly put my boots on, grabbed a reusable black shopping bag, and was then out the door. It was cool outside, but I could tell by the barometric pressure and the cloud cover that I should be fine. It might start raining around sundown if a low pressure front moved in, but I fully intended to be back home before then. Sun and stars, though, I miss being able to fly under my own power, I mused, walking towards the community gate with my eyes more on the sky than what was in front of me. I miss gliding and cloud parkour... If only I'd reincarnated somewhere where I could keep my wings...

The security guard at the gate gave me a friendly wave as I passed his station, and then I was walking down the sidewalk towards the bus stop. I was fully used to this route, as I'd been walking it the last several mornings and afternoons when going to and from the school. Still, it felt strange being out here for a reason other than school. As a car drove past me, and I was buffeted by the wind kicked up in its wake, a chill ran through me.

Not that I'm scared. It's not like there was a former cop who might have it out for me. Oh yes, I'd been updated on the whole situation with that Doughnut Quota scumbag, and I honestly didn't know how to feel about it. Sure, he'd lost his job and had been blacklisted, but the guy would never see the inside of a jail for what he did. Part of the settlement Night Light's lawyers got us—complete with a fair bit of money going into a custodial account—came with the stipulation that we wouldn't press criminal charges. Celestia only knows why they'd ask such a thing; was there some sort of information that'd become utterly useless if he was in jail?

I wasn't so daring as to jinx myself by saying he wouldn't possibly be dumb enough to come after me, because he most assuredly was that stupid. He risked his job to do what, you might ask? Oh he was apparently for sale to whoever was willing to bribe him. It just so happened that a suburban trophy wife Karen was one of his leash-holders.

"Yo, Connie!" a familiar voice shouted as I approached the bus stop. I tore my eyes away from the sky and felt a smile crease my face. Reclining against the bus shelter in some black skinny jeans and a white long-sleeve shirt, both with what looked to be intentional tears in the fabrics, was Lemon Zest. Much to the consternation of one of the other people at the stop, she was waving excitedly at me. "You taking advantage of the half day and going shopping too?"

I shrugged and gave a waggle of my hand as I approached, before retrieving the notepad. Eh, there was a craft store I wanted to check out near Central Park, and then I was planning on spending some time in the park. HBU? Even though it seemed absolutely obtuse, I rather enjoyed learning some of the ways humans abbreviated text in order to meet seemingly arbitrary character limits. Even if I didn't use a lot of them, I appreciated the brevity when writing.

She beamed at me as I took a place next to her, also relaxing against the shelter. "I'm going to the music store at the mall," she remarked, and for the first time, I realised that my pink-skinned friend didn't have her signature headphones on—not even just hanging around her neck. "Snagged my headphone cable in a door and the cable snapped, so I'm going to see if I can't get new ones."

That sucks. How you handling not having any jams?

Her smile became a smirk, and she reached into her bag to fish out a white cable that ended in what looked like two tiny speakers. She popped one of the speakers into her right ear, and it sat just perfectly. "Who says I don't have my jams?" she ribbed, quite literally elbowing me in the ribs. She retrieved her phone from her bag, plugged the cable in, and then offered me the other ear speaker. "Besides, dude, you didn't get your lunchtime music exposure! You're so sheltered music-wise that it's driving me crazy!"

Every day. Every single day at lunch, without fail, she's made me check out a variety of different songs and music genres. Monday, it was rap, Tuesday was ska, Wednesday was electro-swing, and yesterday was dubstep. I genuinely wasn't sure if she was just sharing her passion in music, or if she was trying to help me broaden my horizons. Either way, I knew that I was in for a fun time. With a smile I took the other earphone and popped it into my left ear.

"Rock on!" she cheered, navigating to her media player app and queuing up a playlist for us to listen to. "I've been easing you into the good stuff, but today is the real deal. Even if you're only with me 'til I gotta transfer to a different bus, I swear I'm gonna make a proper metal-head outta ya."

Suddenly that song, 'All My Best Friends are Metalheads', on Tueday makes so much more sense.

Maybe it was her enthusiasm, or the eerie church bell the song opened with, I felt my heart flutter. Then the lead guitar began, soon followed by drums and the subtle strumming of a bass line. "I'm rollin' thunder, pourin' rain... I'm comin' on like a hurricane," a high pitched, but clearly masculine voice sang. "White lightning's flashin' across the sky... You're only young but you're gonna die..."

Oooh, lyrics about weather? You know just how to appeal to my pegasus nature, Lemon.

When I exited the craft store, it was with a mostly empty wallet. I'd gotten the things I went in for—sticky notes, mechanical pencils, a small box of blackboard chalk, and the whiteboard with dry erase marker—but I also came out with a fountain pen and a small locking diary with key. It was something of a spur of the moment purchase; after all, it was notebooks I'd been looking for at the time. My reasoning for the purchase was that, assuming that I really could pull off some magic, any notes I kept on it would be something I'd want to keep locked away, lest anyone in the house get into them.

That said, I found myself missing Lemon's company. Listening to the music and the light conversation about the songs she was playing for me on the bus had made things feel a whole lot less lonely. It was probably for that reason that I found myself whistling one of the songs she played as I walked. There was just something aesthetically pleasing about the melody of that Guns and Roses song, Sweet Child o' Mine.

Of course, I was drawing more than a few weird looks as I went. See, the mini white-board I grabbed was slightly too big for my hoodie's pocket, but it happened to have this sort of clip on the back of it. Thus, I wisely clipped it to one of my pants pockets. That said, the message I'd left on the board did a lot to keep people from staring. I have no larynx. Stop staring. Some people would read it and turn away, looking ashamed. Good.

By the time I reached the park, I realised that I probably should've taken some time to break in these boots before doing a lot of walking in them. My feet were a bit sore, and I decided that I'd probably wanna find somewhere to sit down for a bit. Just kick my feet up, y'know? I wonder how everyone at the encampment is doing.

That single thought immediately set my path for me, and before too long, I found myself walking down the path to the public restrooms. It was a familiar route, and even if I'd not walked it in over two weeks, it was still fresh in my memory. Even as I started picking my way through the underbrush behind the toilets, I started picking out various things I remembered about the place. There's the pipe I beat that gangster with, and there's the tree I used to sleep in, just outside the encampment proper but...

As I reached the clearing that once housed the encampment, I realised how quiet it was. Oh there was the sound of birdsong and the wind in the trees, but there was no sign of human life. One of the fire barrels is still there, but all of the tents were gone, and it seemed like nobody was around. Even the brush shelter that one man built looked to be torn down.

My first assumption was that someone had come in and run the homeless off—that they faced retaliation for roughing up that creep. Maybe someone did run them off, but there wasn't any indicator of violence. Was it possible that the mob really was pissed about the guy I beat? I certainly hoped not; I'd feel guilty if Boss or Violette were hurt because of me.

It was far more likely that they simply packed up and moved on. Because Canterlot was so close to Mt. Shasta, the city apparently tended to get a lot more snow compared to the rest of California. If I had to guess, they likely moved somewhere a bit more sheltered, with easier access to the city itself, like underneath one of the overpasses over in the industrial area. It'd definitely bring them closer to the soup kitchen they took me to that time.

With a shrug, I took a seat on a log near the burn barrel and took out my new diary and fountain pen. Before I started testing anything, I wanted to get everything down that I remembered. Light, Produce Flame, Repair, Mould Earth, Shape Water, Purify Food and Water, and even Detect Magic... I jotted down the relevant spell circles perfectly from memory, and then recreated them with commentary describing what I remembered of how the spell worked. Every channel and circuit, every glyph, and every circle layer had its purpose explained exactly as I remembered it. Assuming that this does work, it might be neat to try creating spells of my own.

I let out a drawn-out yawn as I grabbed a flat piece of rock the guys usually used as a cooktop over proper campfires. It took a lot of careful work with the chalk—I didn't want to get the lines too thick, after all—but eventually I had a reproduction of the basic light spell on the rock. It was times like this that I was glad that I'd taken the time to properly learn how to control this body; it made learning to write again easy, and it definitely helped in drawing.

What was it the instructor said about activating spell circles when you don't have a horn? I pondered as I stared down at my work. Oh, right. 'For you pegasi, remember how it feels to stand on a cloud, and try to impose that memory over the hoof you touch to the spell circle.' It was a pretty rudimentary instruction, but I understood the idea; it was about guiding your magic into one hoof so that you could trigger the spell.

Focusing on recreating that feeling, and putting it all on my left hand, I was shocked to feel the air around me begin to stir. This wasn't just wind; it was centred around me like a small whirlpool of air. There was a prickling sensation in my ears and on my back, and I got the vaguest sense that there was something dancing just outside my perception. I didn't feel it was important right at that moment, so instead I reached my left hand down to touch the circle, while holding my right in front of me, palm up.

At first, nothing happened, but then the chalk on the stone began to glow white and I began to feel a pulling sensation. Then, with a pop, the chalk burned away, leaving a large blackened mark on the stone. I barely paid it any sort of mind, however. I was more interested in the small silvery orb that'd begun floating above my hand. At its centre, it was a mote of white light, but the further out you got, the more grey it looked. Tiny flickering motes of magic came off of it like flecks of steel, giving the light an almost metallic look.

It never got old seeing the way my magic expressed itself in comparison to other ponies. Most ponies just produced certain colours in their spells or auras, while some had more... elemental expressions. One mare who took the course had an electric blue aura that crackled like lightning, and I'd heard of ponies whose magic was like a living flame. For a mare who spent a good portion of her pre-military life—and much of her career—cannon deep in machinery, it was a damned appropriate expression of my magic.

With a bit of a smirk, I clenched my fist shut and snuffed out the spell. So calcium-based chalks are still a good conduit for the magic, but what about others? My eyes drifted from the chalk to the stack of sticky notes poking out of my bag. I picked up what was effectively my spellbook and turned to a different page before freeing one of the mechanical pencils from its wrapping and grabbing the note stack.

I took a few moments to sketch out the spell, and then peeled it off the stack of sticky notes. Sitting it in my palm, I attempted to recreate what I did with the chalk spell circle. The little paper square went up in a little silver flame, before forming a small construct of silvery energy above my hand. It looked vaguely like one of the arrows I'd gotten used to firing at the archery club, and it seemed to mostly point in the direction of the industrial district, occasionally turning towards the east side, the Everfree-Shasta National Park, and then flicking five separate ways.

That was definitely Detect Magic, but either I'm absolutely surrounded by magic users, or the range on this is way beyond what it should be. I mused, turning on the spot and noting the way it largely remained centred on the nearest point. It was supposed to focus on the nearest non-ambient source of magic outside a certain radius, and then the strongest readings in range, and then hint at other readings the way those five flicks kept going off, and was designed for search and rescue. Back in Equestria, I'd been taught it had an effective range of two kilometres. Is it because there's so little ambient magic getting in the way that the range is so much higher?

Closing my hand, and dismissing the spell, I began sketching copies of the different spells, and then sticking them to the pages relevant to the spells. I kept a copy of one outside the diary as I locked it up, sticking it in the back of my note book just in case. Call be paranoid or call me dumb, but I'd rather reveal magic and deal with the consequences from Agent Shimmer and PONI than just let someone hurt me.

Putting my stuff away and slinging my shopping bag over my shoulder like a purse, I got up and stretched. Well, since I'm in the area, and that spell indicated that the PONI Agent's Equestrian doppelganger is near, I might as well go say 'Hi,' right? What's the worst she could say? 'Go pound clouds?'

As I made my way out of the woods and onto the park trail, there was a change in the wind. The temperature was getting bitter, and it was blowing straight into my face. My eyes were beginning to dry right out; I was somewhat thankful, as my goggles were the same military-issued all-weather flight goggles I'd died wearing. I never even questioned why I kept those when I reincarnated, but not my flight suit, the armoured barding, or the short sword; I was just grateful to have them. They provided enough coverage to keep the wind out of my eyes, but not enough that they'd steam up from the body heat. It's just a shame that putting the goggles on and pulling my hood up made people stare at me even more as I exited the park.

They just can't handle my Equestrian military chic.

As I strolled into the industrial district, I spotted a familiar sight exiting a bodega. A redheaded young woman in a black leather jacket that'd seen better days stepped out of the store front with a few shopping bags hanging from her hands. I wasn't close enough to tell if she was still as gaunt-looking, but I hoped she was doing better than the last time I'd seen her. Even at this distance, however, I could tell that she was the spitting image of Agent Shimmer, if only a few inches taller than me.

I was half tempted to let out a piercing whistle to catch her attention and simply run to catch up to her. If 'Red' really was squatting in that warehouse like Violette and Boss suggested that time, she might not be appreciative of being followed home. By approaching her in a public place, she'd probably feel safer in being able to leave any time she wanted.

Before I could come to a decision though, a group of rough-and-tumble looking youths stepped out of an alley as my target passed. One was a tall girl in a bomber jacket, with dark skin and short white hair, while the other girl in the group was teal with blonde hair, dressed in sporty clothes and a varsity jacket. The other three were dim-looking jock types, also wearing Canterlot High School varsity jackets. They started following her, matching her pace for a moment before one of them called out, "Oi, demon bitch! You ain't gotten the message that nobody wants you around anymore." It wasn't the tall tawny girl leading the pack that made the call, but the blonde. Either way, Sunset took only one look over her shoulder before taking off in a sprint. "Get back here!"

There was a ringing in my ears, like the tinnitus I'd get after being caught too close to a misfiring engine. I wanted more than anything else to go and help her, but that group was mostly comprised of people that were larger than me. Only Blondie is my size. It became harder to think as I wrestled with my common sense and the desire to protect someone who may very well have been family. Something in the back of my mind was screaming, and my last clear thought was that regardless of what happened to me, I couldn't simply stand by and do nothing.

Sunset Shimmer crouched behind an abandoned stack of shipping crates in the dim light of the warehouse. The moment Gilda, Lightning Dust, Hoops, Score, and Dumbbell began chasing her, she ended up panicking and running. She thought she'd managed to give them the slip after cutting through an abandoned factory. After making a break for the warehouse she owned and lived out of, however, she heard them follow her into the building through the only unlocked entrance to the entire warehouse. Now she was trapped here, unwilling to make a break for the living quarters that served as her apartment. If they found out where she lived, she'd never be safe again.

For years, she had been the top of Canterlot High's social ladder—the one that everyone feared—and rather than a member of a prey species, she'd surpassed her instincts and became the most cunning in a school of apex predators. Ever since the Fall Formal, where the Equestrian princess blasted her with the Rainbow of Light, however, it was different. She was more vulnerable than ever, and her pony instincts were coming back with a vengeance. On top of being socially declawed and effectively exiled to this side of the portal, the Rainbow of Light had forced her to experience and feel everything she'd ever put anyone or anypony through from the perspective of her victims. It left her with an intense degree of guilt, and painfully aware how much her mind games and manipulation now put a target on her back.

"Come on out, Shimmer, and make it easy on yourself," she heard Lightning Dust, one of the CHS soccer players, call out. "We all got places to be, and we just wanna rough you up a little."

There was a dark laugh that sounded like Gilda's. "Yeah, we won't let the boys have their way with you after we're done, if you just come out."

This was followed by three disgruntled cries from the three boys with them. "What? But you promised we could have some fun with her if we helped you run Sunbitch Shivers out of Canterlot," the trio's leader, Score, growled. "Maybe we ought to just forget her and have some fun with you bitches instead." There was a fleshy impact, followed by a cry of pain from the boy. "Ow! Okay! I was just joking!"

Fear coursed through her veins. What they threatened was something relatively unheard of in Equestria; it was one of the most heinous things you could do to another sapient. Celestia wouldn't abide by such a thing, and it had one of the harshest punishments imaginable—assuming vigilante justice didn't get them first. Here, though, she'd discovered early on that it was not only relatively commonplace, but something a lot of people in her position had to take extra care to avoid.

So, I can either come out and let them beat me, and probably leave me for dead, or I can hide and hope they don't catch me, in which case I'll be beaten and then violated... Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, and her fingernails bit into her palms. She didn't fancy her chances of hiding, but she also didn't trust they'd keep their word. The only one remotely honourable among them is Gilda. Throwing her voice, she called out, "You promise?"

There came a snort of laughter, followed by Lightning Dust's response, "Yeah, sure, Shimmer."

"No, not you; I wanna hear it from Gilda!" Sunset demanded.

She was sure she heard a sound of annoyance from the athlete, but she wasn't disappointed. "You got my word, Shimmer," Gilda called out. "We'll only give you a beatdown, and if any of them tries anything funny, I'll put'em six feet under myself."

Sucking in a deep breath, Sunset put down her shopping bags and rose from behind her cover. She slowly stepped out into the one spot illuminated by the warehouse's skylight, her hands raised. The five of them quickly surrounded her, and she was hauled off her feet when Gilda slipped behind her and hooked her arms underneath Sunset's to hoist her off of the ground.

For several minutes, the group took turns taking out their frustration on the former unicorn. None of them ever went for her face, not wanting to leave any clearly visible proof of their actions, instead choosing to hammer away at her abdomen. Well, most of them. Whether it be out of size envy, or just plain spite, Lightning was a lot less controlled about where she punched, and she knew that wearing a bra was probably going to be a real pain for a while.

As they continued their torment, however,she began to hear the sound of steel dragging on concrete. The others paused momentarily to listen, but the dragging sound stopped shortly after they all turned to look. It picked up again the moment their backs were turned, and this time it was accompanied by the sound of someone whistling. Strangely enough, Sunset thought she could recognise the melody. Hadn't it been something a bunch of the Royal Equestrian Naval service mares started chanting after getting drunk at one of the military balls she'd attended with the princess?

What do we do with a drunken seamare,
What do we do with a drunken seamare,
What do we do with a drunken seamare,
Earl-aye in the mor-ning.

No way, she thought. Is there really somepony else from Equestria living here too? It seemed impossible. The portal had only opened once between the time she fled through the mirror and the Fall Formal, and she knew that up until recently, Princess Celestia had kept the mirror locked up in the vaults with several other dangerous artefacts. Even with the most recent opening, it had been in a secure storage room somewhere in an unfamiliar crystal castle. There was no way that a pony had just randomly come through. Maybe SMILE? No, they wouldn't have had time to brief somepony and send them through before the portal closed...

"I don't know who the hell you are, but quit fuckin' around with us!" Lightning Dust called out. "Just get the hell out of here and we won't give you the same treatment as we're givin' this demon bitch."

The sound of steel dragging on concrete stopped, but the whistling remained. In the gloom of the warehouse, Sunset thought she could just make out a figure not much taller than the short blonde girl in front of her. A few moments later, the person threw something across the warehouse like a discus. It turned out to be a small whiteboard with but a single word scrawled on it and underlined twice. RUN.

Hoops, the tall tan boy with brown hair, stepped forward, kicking the whiteboard aside with a laugh. "Oooh, so scary," he said to the figure in the darkness. "What'cha gonna do to make us, ya little creeper?"

As if in answer, a silvery flame burst to life atop the figure's outstretched hand, and a slight breeze kicked up inside the warehouse. In the newfound illumination, Sunset could see that it was a girl who couldn't have looked older than fourteen, although with her hood up and what appeared to be flight goggles over her eyes, Sunset couldn't make out much more about her appearance, beyond the fact that her free hand had hoisted a long piece of steel pipe onto her shoulder. What really stood out, however, was the feeling of magic radiating off of her; it was nowhere as powerful as the magic that Twilight Sparkle or her crown had radiated—in fact, it didn't even feel like unicorn magic—but it was definitely Equestrian in origin. The occasional silver mote of magic seemed to flicker above her head or behind her back, too, like something was trying to happen.

"H-how..." she quietly whispered. She'd tried for years to use her magic in this world, but had never had any luck achieving more than a headache. Although she could feel her wellspring inside of her, it had been her conclusion that without some sort of catalysing force—like the Element of Magic or the transformation she underwent, or those of the Princess and those five humans—human bodies simply couldn't use Equestrian magic. And I didn't dare look into this world's magic while PONI had me in my sight.

Evidently, the others were just as surprised by this turn of events. "Holy shit," came Gilda's astonished murmur behind her as the mysterious mage stepped forward with a predatory sneer on her face. "I thought that pony princess said there was no more of that magic in this world."

"Who gives a shit? We can still kick her ass!" Lightning shot back, although she didn't sound all that confident herself. "Go on, you three; get her!"

The boys didn't move. Instead, they just stood stock still, watching the slowly approaching girl as she stopped a fair bit away from the group and pointed her length of pipe at each of them in turn—Hoops, Dumbbell, Score, Lightning, and finally Gilda. She then stood aside and pointed towards the warehouse's door. She's giving them the opportunity to leave, Sunset mused, feeling Gilda's grip slacken a bit. That's the standard Equestrian military doctrine alright: make a threat display and then give the enemy the opportunity to back off. But what's a member of the REN doing here, and if she didn't come through the portal, why does she look so young?

After a few moments of silent consideration—almost as if they were collectively using the group's single brain cell to perform telepathy—the three boys reached a consensus. Without looking back, the three boys ran past the pipe-wielding girl, and burst out through the exit door like a demon was on their heels, which Sunset supposed they probably genuinely believed to be the case..

With a disgruntled scream, Lightning Dust rushed towards the strange girl. "I have to do everything myself, don't I?" This proved to be a mistake, as the stranger hurled the shimmering silvery flame directly at Lightning. She brought up her arms to protect her face, only for the flames to disperse harmlessly after singing her varsity jacket's sleeves.

"Lightning, look out!" Gilda cried out as the strange girl swung the pipe horizontally, catching the blonde in the side. Strangely enough, the tall girl made no move to help her comrade. If anything she seemed to be trying to keep Sunset between her and the girl.

Lightning Dust fell to her knees, clutching her side. "That was a cheap shot," she grunted out. The girl intended to take advantage of her downed opponent's vulnerability by bringing the pipe down in a vertical blow. It was clearly expected, because she brought one of her hands up to catch the pipe on her palm and gripped it tightly. Despite her apparent discomfort, she hauled herself to her feet and gave a yank on the length of metal.

Seemingly not having expected the action, the mysterious girl stumbled forward as Lightning thrust out a foot. As the girl tripped, Lightning slammed a fist into the girl's gut. It sent her sprawling to the floor between the athlete and Sunset, the pipe quickly tumbling away. She quickly scrambled onto all fours and was in the process of standing back up when Lightning Dust pulled something out of her jacket and pressed it against the girl's forehead. The sight of a tube of burnished metal sent a chill down Sunset's spine, especially when you considered the absolutely insane look that was etched across Lightning's face as she stared down the girl.

"Lightning, what the fuck!" Gilda shrieked, letting Sunset's feet finally touch the ground for the first time in several minutes. She released the redhead and stormed over toward her friend, ignoring as Sunset fell to the ground, clutching her own abdomen in pain. "We agreed we were just here to beat the shit out of Shimmer, and you promised you wouldn't bring your Dad's piece!" It was almost touching. Gilda only wanted to make her suffer; she didn't want Sunset dead. "Put that thing away!"

The deranged athlete looked over to her compatriot with a manic look. "Nah, Gil. Don't you see?" she asked, seemingly not noticing the equally manic grin overtaking the kneeling girl's grimace even as she cocked the .44 revolver. "We can't let this one near Shimmer, or else she'll just bring the demon back! Better we put'er down now before that can happen."

Gilda looked from her friend to the girl caught half in the process of standing. Slowly, she stood up, intentionally pressing her forehead against the muzzle of the gun. She kept her arms at her side, but they were slightly spread, as though she were daring Lightning Dust to paint the warehouse floor with her brains. "Lightning, this ain't worth going to jail over, and I think this chick might be as crazy as you are."

Sunset kept her mouth shut, unwilling to provoke her unhinged schoolmate's wrath, and instead held her breath as she watched from where Gilda dropped her. After a few silent moments, Lightning let out an annoyed "Tch," and slowly eased the hammer back into position with her thumb, uncocking it. Both Gilda and Sunset let out a shaky breath, thinking the worst was over, before she thrust her hand forward and smashed the butt of the revolver into the girl's forehead, dropping her like a sack of hammers. "If you know what's good for you, the both of you will stay away from Canterlot High."

With that, Lightning turned away from Sunset and the fallen girl, who throughout everything never uttered a peep. Gilda hesitated, looking from her friend to the other two in horror. She quietly mouthed a quick "Sorry!" and followed after the athlete. The door to the warehouse slammed shut behind the pair, leaving Sunset and her mysterious Equestrian alone in the dim warehouse.

The girl let out a hiss as she tugged her goggles down around her neck and then brought her hand up to where she'd been struck. It seemed to confuse her when her hand came away bloody. Cyan eyes simply shimmered with confusion as she returned her bloodied hand to her forehead and sat up. Her hood fell away revealing white locks of hair streaked with red, although she imagined only some of that was blood.

"Are you okay?" Sunset hesitantly asked, watching worriedly as the girl looked around; she seemed almost disoriented. Does she not know where she is, or how she got here? For the shortest of moments, Sunset was sure there was a flash of panic in her eyes. Her would-be saviour returned her gaze to Sunset and raised an eyebrow before gesturing toward the whiteboard. She tilted her head back just enough to reveal the scar across her throat. "You... can't talk?" When she nodded—Was that yes, she can talk, or yes, you are correct?—Sunset got up and fetched the whiteboard.

The girl took it and set it in her lap. She popped the top off the attached marker one handed, and then started writing on the board. After a moment You must be Sunset Shimmer. I'm Eventide Construct. That PONI agent never mentioned you by name, but she did say there was another Equestrian living here, and since you're the spitting image of her, it wasn't hard to come to the conclusion as to who you were.

Sunset gave a snort of amusement as she read the message. "I'd say it's nice to meet you, Eventide, but if I'm being honest, I'm more confused about why or how you're here," she remarked, getting up and moving over to the boxes she'd left her shopping. "Not that I don't appreciate the 'save'. It's just..."

Eventide let out a shrill whistle, holding up her sign. I didn't come through the portal you think PONI doesn't know about. When she saw Sunset read what she wrote, she wiped it and scrawled something else. No simple answer to me being in this world, and as for why I wanted to come meet you... Long story. Partially just wanted to be a good neighbour. She looked over to a spot in the darkness near the door, and got up, clipping the whiteboard to one of her pants pockets.

Eventide then ran back over to the patch of illumination with a black reusable shopping bag hanging from one arm. With a questioning look to Sunset, she inclined her head toward the door to Sunset's apartment, before grabbing her whiteboard again. Do you happen to have a first-aid kit in there? Sun and stars, my foster mother's going to flip if I come home with a bleeding head wound. Besides, I'm sure you have some questions of your own.

Author's Note

Next time: Girl talk.