Callsign MANE VI: Twilight

by Col_StaR

Rating: teen
Tags: Alternate Universe, Human, Main 6, Nightmare Moon, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Adventure
Length: 56900

When shadows threaten to darken the Earth, a lone student must unite a team and restore Harmony to a world that abandoned her. An experiment in FiM reinterpretation.

An experiment in FiM reinterpretation.
Featured: 1/19/2015.
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MANE: Maneuver, Assess, Neutralize, Execute.

They are the world’s special forces operators, the best of the best no one sees. Employed by the covert organization known as the Network, MANE teams operate around the world to protect the Network's global interests. Despite their unique personalities, these motley squads of citizens, soldiers, and criminals have completed countless missions together. But in a period of an imperfect peace, many unit had been deactivated. MANE operators went back to their homes in the hopes of rebuilding their lives in harmony. That is about to change.

Twilight, a student of the Network, has received the first assignment of her academic career. As Cell’s personal protégé, she has been tasked with overseeing preparations for a historic diplomatic meeting. But after her mission takes an unexpected turn, an unforeseen evil threatens to destroy the Network and plunge the world into eternal darkness. Against uncertain odds, Twilight must unite MANE VI and fight to restore Harmony, while realizing her place in the world along the way.

Contains humanized, militarized FiM characters in an alternate universe, set on a near-future Earth.
Rated Teen for: scenes of combat, violence, swearing.

Featured Box: 1/19/2015
TV Tropes Recommendation: http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/FanficRecs/MyLittlePonyFriendshipIsMagicGeneral

Published 2012-02-12 00:44:01 UTC
Last updated 2016-11-17 18:30:14 UTC

Chapter 1: Reactivation

It was a sense Applejack was all too familiar with, a gnawing quiver in her gut that echoed through her bones. Like a dog barking wildly into the night, she understood that it meant trouble. It was her instinctive alarm, a sixth sense that had kept her alive through several years of service. She never understood how it worked. Maybe it was a signal in the breeze, or some god-given gift of intuition, or maybe just rare instances when defensive paranoia paid off. But it always came. And it never faded. And it was never wrong.

She had finished washing the dishes, the remains of her family’s lunch disappearing into the sink under a pool of soap and dish water. From the rickety window of the kitchen, the pair of leaf-green eyes squinted through the shades towards the front of the estate. Clouds of dust and metallic glints of light were following the winding dirt road connected the farm to its property line. Trouble was coming to her doorstep. She wiped her hands dry with a rag and grabbed her trusty Stetson hat, placing the worn, leather article atop her unkempt blonde hair.

A pearl-black SUV pulled in front of the house. A lone man, sporting a grey suit jacket with a white undershirt, inspected the premise before stepping out from the safety of the car. Applejack’s surveyed every detail she could of the suit as she crossed her arms and waited.

“I thought you fella’s were supposed to be punctual,” the cowgirl snided, “I always knew you folks couldn’t keep away for very long, but now you’re a few months early. Maybe you’ve got more than just a clock broken.”

“Honesty has been reactivated,” the man sternly replied, “Your services are needed yet again.”

Hearing the term ‘service’ made Jack’s blood boil. She marched outside, her boots grinded the dirt underfoot, “Damn you. I was promised one full year. It’s barely been three months, and I know y’all know it. I just got home, and now you’re going to throw me back into it, ain’t yah?”

The man stood silent in confirmation.

“And what’s so important that you had to drive down here to tell me?”

“I was not informed of your assignment. I can only say that it is of great importance.”

“Well if it’s so important, why not assign another team?”

“Cell was very specific when she appointed you and the team for this.” He paused for added emphasis, “And she is not likely to reconsider.”

“Well she should! We took casualties last time. We’re at half strength with no word on replacements and barely time for R and R. So you can just turn around and find yourself someone else to do your wet work.”

The man’s humorless demeanor remained unchanged. “I don’t make those decisions. Cell insists that your services will be short-term. Once the mission is complete, you’ll be returned to leave status with your family.”

As her rage began to boil over, the woman threw her hat into the dirt. “To hell with that noise! I don’t care what Cell says. She can’t make me abandon my family again!”

Another presence entered into the conversation. Jack turned around towards the twelve year-old girl in the farmhouse doorway, watching them with her bright, hazel eyes she adored so much. The pink ribbon tied in the girl’s cinnamon-red hair drooped in dismay, and her fingers wringed the plaid fabric of the girl’s favorite dress. The expression of confusion and sadness tore through Jack: she saw what she had to lose.

The older sibling let a resigned sigh escape her, “Bloom, go fetch your brother from the orchard. Tell him I’ll be taking another trip soon. It’s… important.”

The girl didn’t move.

“Now!” Jack barked. The girl ran away, surely trying to keep hold the tears back. As her kid sister darted through the farmhouse and out the back door, Jack’s gut met the dirt floor. As she wiped the specs of dirt from the brim of her hat, guilt began to seep through her rigid composure. It would be another Christmas spent without them, she thought, Another broken promise. Yet despite the pain and regret she felt drilling into her core, she knew what she had to do.

“Alright, you win,” Jack said with a long sigh, “Just let me pack my bag and say goodbye.”

Her legs were strained to the point of failure. Her lungs struggled for the searing air. Her heart pounded like a jackhammer inside her chest. But all that mattered was the chalk line behind her, hidden under a trail of dust. She lifted her head to find her run time, and cracked a smile. She had done it. She’d broken the record.

There was an explosion of fervor throughout the stadium, coupled with fireworks and confetti cannons to herald her success. People stood from their seats and cheered her on, screaming with enthusiasm befitting such a stunning athlete. Even as her sweat seeped from every pore, the woman still posed triumphantly for all her fans out there. The camera flashes bathed her in light and attention at a blinding pace; in the morning, her picture would be on the cover of every newspaper and magazine back home. Last of all, she remembered that, as the golden medal was adorned around her neck at the final ceremony, a voice behind her called, “They don’t call her Dash for nothing.”

Then the ravenous applause was suddenly shut silent. The half-remembered fantasy faded back to the inescapable dredge of reality. An electronic ringing was the culprit, originating from a bench beside the track. Dash quietly cursed her phone as she begrudgingly walked over to answer it.

Stupid phone. What the hey could be so important?

The woman stepped off the sullen dirt track and onto the cold concrete sidelines. The vibrating buzz and the high-pitched rings echoed through the empty stadium, emphasizing the building’s pitiful state of abandonment. Dash wiped the sweat from her brow with her towel before finally considering the phone’s demands. With a groan, she picked up the phone with one hand as she collected her things in the other.

“Yeah?” Dash answered in her usual gruff tone.

The man’s voice was stone-cold. “Rainbow Dash?”

“The one and only,” her ego replied.

“Loyalty has been reactivated.”

The woman squeezed a jet of water into her mouth. She made sure to swish it around loudly enough for person on the line to hear, before gulping it all down. “Figured as much. You guys never call for anything else.”

The man replied with silence.

“Same time, same place? Who else’s comin’?”

“We’ll be in touch.”

The call ended as fast as it had begun, but that’s all she needed to hear. Dash tossed her things into her messenger bag and began to depart from the empty stadium. While she could imagine the disdain that others would feel after getting the call so soon, there was only excitement in her mind.

This life’s just too slow. Time to kick things up a notch.

From her home on the 20th floor, Rarity continued the project that had enslaved her every waking thought for the past few days. While she was always intent on maintaining a pristine and proper appearance for the rest of her maisonette, her design room was the sole caveat. Whenever she suffered from a storm of inspiration, that room was always ground zero. A delicate clutter of pencil-drawn patterns, sketches, and revisions plastered the walls and floor. Spools of thread lay tangled in a pile of neglect, pushed aside by bouts of conflicted frustration. Stretches of fine silk of several shades littered the areas around and below a well-worn sewing machine. And hidden somewhere in the mess was Rarity’s favorite pincushion. It was like the contents of the room had been shot from a cannon before landing in their final places.

But even from the mayhem, Rarity was able to perceive beauty in it all. Standing over the mannequin, her fingers worked with delicate precision, putting the final stitches into the slender waist of her creation. Her eyes strained as they squinted through the narrow glasses, watching the needle’s point pierce the surface of the fine black fabric before diving back below once again. It was a process which she repeated several more times, but she could feel her vision becoming manifest with each new stitch. Then, like a strike of lightning, she suddenly knew it was finished. Rarity cut the thread between her teeth and threw the needle aside, never tearing her eyes away from her work. With a deep breath, the seamstress stepped back from the mannequin to allow her creation to stand on its own.

Dressmaking has always been a painstaking process, requiring both skill and vision while consuming both time and patience, but it was always an art unto itself. The proof was right in front of her. The dress looked exactly as Rarity had imagined: the shape was slender and fitting, the design was flirty yet reserved, and the black silk flowed as freely as a passing breeze. A fine silver-laced diamond necklace would compliment the night-black silk while accenting the color of her shimmering sea-blue eyes. Oh how she fantasized of attending an elegant soiree amongst Manhattan’s social elite, where the eyes of powerful socialites would turn to find her and her astonishing ensemble. Captivating them with her elegance and grace, she would then enthrall them with her manners and charm. They would dedicate a toast to her, the lady of the evening, cementing her status with the gentle clinks of champagne glasses. By the end of the night, the regal Rarity would earn a place in high society, the exclusive coterie she was destined to join. Such dreams always made her smile.

To celebrate the birth of such a beautiful dress, Rarity felt she deserved to relax for the rest of the day, even if it was still young. She was content to sit on the couch, with a glass of Chianti in hand, and let time slip away from her. But before she could pour herself the first glass, an electronic blip caught Rarity’s ears. It was a sound that she hadn’t been expecting for months, yet the source unmistakably blipped a second time. When she went to check her computer, her suspicions were confirmed.

The message onscreen prompted was cryptic as always. “Generosity has been Reactivated. POST-3 Garage. H12 + 1200.” There was no indication of a sender, but Rarity who it was. More importantly, she knew what it meant.

Disappointing, but acceptable. Rarity would have to take a rain check on the night of rest she had planned. Instead, she would spend the evening packing her things and getting what beauty sleep she could. Before the break of dawn of the following morning, the woman would already be on the road. The drive through the city and into the country would be long and lonely, but one she could not decline. She was a professional, and it was time for her to go to work.

Cell’s gaze was unwavering as always, eternally caught between appreciating and demanding. As she looked down upon them, the imposing gaze of her slate-grey eyes seemed to pierce through whomever she was looking at. The woman could turn a person’s blood to ice with a mere turn of her voice, but the heavenly aura that emanated around her body often put their minds at ease. She placed a tablet computer into her protégé’s hands, whom couldn’t help but notice how slender, pale, and flawless her aged hands were.

“Travel arrangements, mission details, and necessary information are loaded onto the dossier. You will assemble with the guards at the motorcade at 0600. We depart at dawn.” Cell concluded her in-person briefing with her pupil. The woman had expected Twilight to jump excitedly at the opportunity, asking questions and exploring the topic as thoroughly as she could. But today, her student said nothing.

In a way, Twilight had trained for a mission like this for her entire life. But now, as she held the weight of the dossier in her hand, she felt like she was made of straw, ready to blow apart with the slightest gust of wind. She peered into the endless abyss of Cell’s silvery gaze, into the eyes that she had worked so hard to earn affection from. She just couldn’t say no. Shrugging off the fear and doubt, the student held the dossier at her side and confidently bowed to her mentor, letting her long, black hair fall past her shoulders. Cell nodded approvingly.

“One last thing, Twilight,” her mentor added, “I’ve made an additional arrangement. You’ve been assigned someone to be your assistant for the duration of this operation. He will aid and escort you for the duration of the mission in any way possible; how you utilize his skills is up to your discretion. I have sent him to your quarters to make his introduction. I suggest you do not keep him waiting. You are dismissed.”

Twilight’s heels clacked together as she stood at attention. “Understood. Thank you, ma’am,” she responded, before making her way to the exit.

The elevator doors opened on the fourth floor, revealing a hallway that Twilight had become well acquainted with. Over her years of study, the halls of the Institute’s Palace had come to embody a personality all their own. Shoes clacked against the marble floors with an air of authority, and the oaken walls were polished to a mirror shine. A pair of Illuminatus Knights, royal guardsmen dressed in white and grey uniforms, nodded as Twilight passed; she returned the respectful gesture as they continued their patrol. The girl turned final corner towards her room. Who she saw stopped her in her tracks.

A young man, six years her younger, leaned against the wall beside her doorway. The boy’s arms crossed while he waited, breaking only to check his watch or run his fingers through his spiked-up hair. Having heard the echo of approaching footsteps, his boyish face turned to find her. Casually clad the same charcoal uniform as her, he could have been indistinguishable from any of the other students. But even after ten forlorn years, Twilight still recognized the twinkle in his emerald-green eyes.

For Twilight, everything changed in that moment. Those green eyes, that young face, the shark-black hair: there was no denying that it was him. An excited gasp escaped her, leaving her mouth agape. The books and tablet Twilight had held in her hand crashed to the floor. The young man barely had time to stand before the woman sprinted over and wrapped her arms around his body in joyous embrace. Her fingers clung to the back of his jacket as if they would never let go of him again.

Warm tears rolled off her cheeks as she rested her head on his shoulder. “I missed you, Spike.”

As the young man regained his footing, he slowly draped his arms around her. Spike gently rocked from side to side to comfort her, struggling to hold back his own tears as well. A long, warm breath emanated from between his sharp-toothed grin. His voice cracked as he whispered into Twilight’s ear, “I missed you too, sis.”

Chapter 2: Footnotes in History

Ten years is a long time to be apart; that made itself evident as the night went on. There was just so much to catch up on. Years worth of classes, birthdays, and milestones missed had to be explained. And there were still countless events and occurrences that were to follow. It was a shame that tonight was the only night they could finally catch up. However, both siblings were intent on making the fleeting moments matter.

Over dinner in the mess hall, Spike and Twilight spoke voraciously. Spike shared memories about himself and the guys in his class, stories of mischief they’d find themselves in as their training progressed. One story in particular revolved around classmates Snips and Snails, and their attempt to make a make-shift laser-light show. Tucked away in the basement of their dormitory, the two had spent weeks scavenging parts and wiring the electrical work together from junk parts, scrapped machines, and assorted gadgets that people mysteriously abandoned in their own rooms. When the build was finished, they threw a party to celebrate with their friends, Spike included. But as such things were wont to do, soon half the building was crammed into the basement, anxiously awaiting either an electro-lit spectacle, or the duo’s most recent failure. Needless to say, the latter happened. After the series of small fires were contained and the emergency power returned lighting to the building, both Snips and Snails spent the next few months cleaning up the mess and repairing the damage they had done. To this day, they still aren’t allowed to turn on a light switch without supervision.

But then it came time for Twilight to return the conversation. She struggled to find something appropriate to say. How could she, when her most prominent memories bordered between bland and depressing? Could she remind Spike of the day they were torn apart, when their clasped hands were separated, leaving the young boy’s tear-reddened emerald eyes burned into her memory? Or would she share the fact that she spent her tenth birthday alone, sitting in a room devoid of cake and friends, with only a handful of books to keep her company?

No, she thought to herself, I can’t ruin this for him. I shouldn’t revel in the past; I should be enjoying this present. Bearing an honest smile, she chose to share her harrowing tales of lengthy assignments and late nights spent in the Grand Library.

“You know, I always heard rumors about a hermit living in the library. I never thought it’d be my sister.”

“Hey, it’s not that bad. I honestly wouldn’t mind living in a library. It’d be quiet, and calm, and you’d be surrounded with shelves of things to do.”

“Yeah, but where would you sleep? It’s not like you can sleep on the shelves.”

“No… but I’ll let in in on a secret.” Her eyes shifted left and right, and her voice dropped into hushed tones, “If you get a stack the thesauruses and the dictionaries together, one on top of the other, they form a solid wall. So on a few occasions- after the library closes and the librarians are gone-… I’d gather up some seat cushions, arrange them somewhere warm, make a fort out of the books, and… just spend the night in there.”

Spike almost spilled his drink as he burst out laughing. How good felt it to hear him laugh again.

Their discussion continued undeterred even after dinner. It was the week of the winter solstice, one of the few break periods the students and faculty had to enjoy. Free from lessons and assignments, students were free to do as they wished within their confines; parties, games, and other rambunctious activities were always rampant throughout the dormitories. Wandering groups of friends shared the dusky sidewalks with pairs of patrolling security guards, both groups eyeing their watches for the 10 PM curfew. The clock tower in the main square chimed sonorously six times, 1800 hours, but the sky was already darkening. Two students, standing side by side, continued their walk along the winding web of roads, lit by an endless row of streetlights.

The midwinter cold nipped at Twilight’s fingers, forcing them to retreat into the warm sleeves of her jacket. With every breath, she would watch the warm air condense into thin streaks of grey before disappearing in the wind. She continued the conversation, “I don’t think I really had the option not to go on this assignment, really. With a meeting as important as this one, it’s not like I could just say ‘no, thank you’. Cell would be outraged. She would lock me in the brig for insubordination. Or banish me from the Institute. Or lock me in the brig and then banish me. I can’t risk that!”

Spike shut his hands into his pant pockets as he rolled his eyes. “I think you’re overreacting. She can’t imprison you or banish you just for saying no-”

“But I can’t appear disloyal or unappreciative. If she even suspects I’m not up to par, she might drop me as her student, maybe even send me back to Class Zero. I’ll be learning how to spell my own name again with kids a quarter of my age. And then everyone will know- and they’ll laugh at me- and-”

“Twi, Cell’s your teacher, and you’re her student. Some part of her must understand. She wouldn’t just decide to abandon you over something like this, and she certainly wouldn’t drop you into a class full of toddlers. No matter what you think, she couldn’t possibly be that bad.”

She could feel her heartbeat throb in her head. As the jumbled thoughts began to subside, Twilight let out a groan, “Well… no- I mean-… I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? But you said yourself that you’ve been her student for years. If anything, you should know her better than anyone else on campus has.”

“Spike, it’s Cell: leader of the Network and the founder of the Institute. When she isn’t conducting my lessons, she’s always working in her office or meeting with her council of Directors. I doubt she’d have neither the time nor the patience to answer something like, ‘what’s your favorite color?’ or ‘what does your name mean?’”

The two stopped on the corner of an intersection. Under the streetlamp’s alabaster glow, Spike turned to face his sister. “Come on. She obviously trusts you if she wants you to come to this meeting. We’re going outside the Institute, Twilight! No one’s been allowed outside those walls in a generation, but tomorrow, we’ll be the ones who’re gonna change that. Why not just ask her then? It’s not like we’ll have anything better to do afterwards, anyways.”

Twilight pondered the question lightly. “Tell you what: once everything’s done and we’re heading back home, then maybe I’ll consider asking. Deal?”

Spike knew how skeptical her offer was, but he didn’t hesitate to answer, “Deal.”

And as they exchanged nods, the agreement was sealed.

“’ Both parties are to meet at the Selenic Manor at the appointed time- 12:00 PM-… Respective representative will meet in the main hall… Guards will be excused for the extent of the deliberation. Deliberations are expected to continue until 4:00 PM… Guest rooms are available if deemed necessary… Lunch will be served- yadda yadda yadda…”

Spike read and reread the dossier over and over again as he sat upon the wooden floor. Pouring over the notes on the tablet computer, he hoped to find an additional breadcrumb of information to talk about. Amongst the ordered shelves of books and scattered pages of notes in Twilight’s quarters, the two had spent an hour discussing the assignment that had brought them together. The energy in the room had dimmed with the setting sun, but Spike was intent on keeping it alive.

“The guys aren’t going to believe this. I will admit that I was hoping for a job with a little more… stuff actually happening, but this is pretty cool too. We’re going to be like diplomats, with bodyguards and a mansion and everything. Maybe we’ll even make a part of history! What do you think, sis?”

Twilight gave no reply.

His enthusiasm remained undeterred. “I think it sounds amazing, don’t you?”

Once again, no reply. Spike turned to investigate.

Night had fallen, and the black-haired woman was caught staring out the darkened window. She was indeed physically present, but he questioned if his sister was really there.

“Sis?”

His words didn’t seem to register with the woman. She was frozen in distraction, her thoughts trapped somewhere far from the here and now. He could see it in the way her violet eyes had locked in place, staring endlessly into the empty void.

“Twilight?”

The welcoming smile that he had grown accustomed to was gone from her expression, leaving only an empty gaze. As much as he convinced himself that his sister hadn’t changed, that she was still the innocent and loving girl from their shared past, he feared he was wrong. Spike reached his hand towards his sister’s shoulder, carefully inching closer.

“Sarah?”

The name, paired with the sound of his voice, jolted her back to consciousness. Focus gradually returned to her eyes, and she was caught staring out her fourth-story window. From the perch, she would be able to see above the stately spires and angled roofs, and barely peer over the Institute’s towering border wall. Beyond that wall was the outside world, a place that had rejected the two siblings, a place they would soon be returning to. But now, the moonless night and the coming clouds had cast a black veil over the window and land.

“I’m sorry Spike,” she replied with a sigh, tearing her eyes away from the window, “I’m just anxious about all this.”

Spike was relieved to hear her speak. He stood at his sister’s side. “Well, me too. First Assignment Jitters and all that. But hey, you gotta admit that this sounds like an awesome assignment. We’ll have body guards, and suits- and codenames- so we might as well be secret agents. What do you think we’ll be planning, world peace or world domination? Heck, maybe we’ll even be written into history!”

Twilight giggled as she rolled her eyes, “Yeah, as a footnote most likely.”

“Hey, a footnote is better than no note.”

She couldn’t argue with that. Still, as excited as her passenger sounded, she couldn’t let her little brother lose sight at the task at hand. “Just don’t forget what we’re actually here for. Cell only requested that we be prepared to aid in minor administrative duties: learning the layout of the manor, syncing up everyone’s itineraries, making sure everything’s absolutely perfect, simple tasks like that. Otherwise, actually attending the meeting will be our main purpose. And while I’m well prepared to take notes on this event, we probably won’t even have a say in anything going on. Before you know it, we’ll be heading back on the long road home. So don’t burn yourself out getting too excited.”

Spike tried to hide his disappointment with a shrug, “Yeah, I guess.” He carefully planned a pause before asking, “Hey Twilight? Do you still go by Sarah?”

Twilight snapped back, “Don’t call me that,”

Spike was caught offguard, “Wha-“

“I told you. Don’t call me that.”

“What? Why’s that so wrong? You can call me by my name. I didn’t mean anything by it. I just thought that since we’re family and all-“

“I’m sorry Spike, but I gave that name up a long time ago. When we came here, we were given a name and a designation, just like anyone else. For all they know, I have always been Twilight, just as you’ve always been Spike.” Twilight cut Spike off before he had a chance to speak. “-And besides, hearing that name merely brings up some bad memories.”

He hesitated to ask. “Like what?”

Twilight couldn’t hide her pained grimace. She sat down on the edge of her bed, her throat seizing as the memories trickled through. She recalled Sunday mornings, when the rays of sunlight would warm their bare feet as they kicked in anticipation for breakfast. The air was always heavy with the tantalizing scent of pancakes and mom’s steaming mug of Earl Grey tea. Yet after many distant years, the memory had grown faint to the point of being foreign; every time, something was different, and it was all wrong. Twilight sat silently, struggling to remember the details of her mother’s face. All things fade, whether they deserve to or not.

Spike could feel his sister’s pain resonate in his chest. He couldn’t stand seeing her like that. He sat with her on the bed, resting his head on her shoulder as she wrapped her arms around him. A comforting silence came between them.

An old piece of paper slid out from the boy’s pocket. Its body was creased with years of openings and its corners were ragged and dog-eared, but every tear had been carefully mended with a tapestry of tape and glue. The ink of the pen had begun to fade, yet he refused to part with it. At every exam, promotion, and ceremony that she would never attend, he kept this note in his shirt pocket, closest to his heart. While he was pretty sure she had forgotten about it, he always knew that she would never forget him. A simple note told him so.

Chapter 3: Departure

The elevator wasn’t moving fast enough. Every second that ticked by was another second closer to tardiness. Twilight’s attention was fixed on the floor indicator as the elevator crawled to the garage floor. With their departure fast approaching, she ran through the checklist of details in her head.

Proper appearance? Twilight meticulously inspected her appearance in the reflection of the stainless steel doors. A few wrinkles in her charcoal uniform jacket were straightened out, along with a few clashing creases in her dress pants. The bags under her eyes felt worse than they looked, but they would disappear as the day progressed. She combed her fingers through her hair, segregating the streak of rose-dyed hair from its natural jet-black counterparts. She looked prim and proper, as always. Check.

Computer with the mission briefing? The tablet was held snugly under her arm. From the dossier program, she had spent much of the night memorizing every portent detail from the briefing, so its inclusion was probably unneeded. Regardless, the battery was fully charged and ready for immediate access. Check.

Assistant ready? Even as a boy, he was never a morning person. Spike struggled to keep his eyes open, and his barely-conscious body wavered from side to side. To keep himself from falling asleep, he kept sipping from a water bottle full of orange juice; he hoped the sugar would keep him awake. Some things never change. Check.

Correct time and location? The elevator slowed to a stop as her watch struck 0400. ‘G4’ flashed on the screen. A bell chimed innocently. And her reflection was split down the center as the steel doors opened before them. As soon as the doors opened, Twilight could feel Cell’s omniscient gaze upon her. Check.

Everything was accounted for.

The motorcade was assembled and waiting, a line of five ceramic-white SUVs parked along the curb. Units of royal guardsmen huddled around their team leaders as they holstered their HK45 pistols, buttoned up their nobel-grey suit jackets, tightened their ties, and checked their earpieces. The drivers were conversing amongst each other, checking routes and confirming checkpoints on their in-car GPS units. The communications specialist and technical specialists ran last-second diagnostics on the instruments installed into their antennae-laden vehicle. And Cell stood serenely in the center of it all, waiting for her student’s arrival. The girl bowed to her teacher and stood at attention, as was their tradition.

“You’re right on time, Twilight,” Cell replied, “Are you and your assistant ready to depart?”

Twilight glanced over to Spike, who was struggling to stand with so little energy. She hoped Cell wouldn’t notice the orange juice bottle protruding rudely from his jacket pocket. “Yes ma’am,” she answered confidently.

“Before we depart, I have made a modification to your assignment. Hold out your left hand.”

Twilight didn’t hesitate to obey. She held out her hand as instructed. Suddenly, a handcuff snapped around Twilight’s left wrist. The arms shut like a trap around the student’s slender wrist, pinching as it tightened against her skin. Twilight’s hand shook in discomfort as it instinctively tried to escape, but Cell’s grip tightened around her student’s hand as if to threaten to break it.

The woman directed her unwavering gaze over the ailing girl. Her voice lacked sympathy or hesitation. She addressed her student with strict austerity, “This case is now part of your assignment. When the time comes, you are to present it to Luna. Until that time, you must be the one to hold onto it. Wherever you must go, it must go with you. You may not speak of it, nor may you open it. But above all else, you must keep it out of the wrong hands. You now hold the most powerful element in your hand, Twilight. Never let go of it.”

As Cell released the girl’s aching hand, Twilight stifled as the great weight pulled against her. Connected to the Kevlar-lined handcuffs was a curious black case. Despite its compact size, it tugged at her wrist like an iron chain. The texture of its carbon fiber surface was flawlessly grooved, unmarred by protrusions or signs of wear. The symbol of a crescent framed by a hexagon was embossed upon the sides. Underneath the inset handle was a single postage stamp-sized biometric scanner. The mysterious case seemed to whisper into her ear, piquing her curiosity and beckoning her inside.

Twilight’s burning questions were brushed aside the captain of the royal guard, a man she knew only as Captain Light, stepped close beside Cell. In barely more than a mumble, the older guardsman reported that the guardsmen were ready to depart. With a nod and a wave, the leader of the Illuminatus gave the word. The captain relayed orders through the radio, drivers turned on their cars in unison, and guards shuffled to their designated vehicles. The garage was alive with noise and movement. The sudden jolt of activity roused Spike to his senses while Twilight gradually adjusted to her new responsibility. The touch of electricity filled the air and permeated through the tips of her fingers.

“Be ready, Twilight,” Cell said as she stepped into the open door of the SUV, “fate will find you sooner than you know.” And as the door closed, Cell disappeared behind a wall of tinted glass.

Ambiguity was a tool that Cell employed when speaking of the past, a measure of security that reminded Twilight of her need-to-know information basis. But she was always direct when speaking of the present, especially to her student. Fate and vision were always phrases she used in rhetoric or abstraction, but never before did those words feel so present and substantial in their usage. Such an ominous message perplexed Twilight, filling her with curiosity and fear. What is this ‘fate’ supposed to mean? And what would it find her for?

She was too busy deciphering the message to notice two royal guardsmen coming towards them. As they introduced themselves, Twilight’s train of thought was interrupted.

The older guardsman introduced himself first, outstretching a large, leathered hand. The buzzcut and square shape of his thick head seemed to shrink the size of his eyes, a pair of white marbles completely enveloped by his brown pupils. “Greetings ma’am, sir. My name’s Sledge, unit 3. I’ve been tasked to be your driver for the duration of the mission.” He gave a darkened stare as he shook their hands.

As she turned to meet the younger guardsman, Twilight recognized him, but barely. The man’s likeness was deeply familiar. She could picture him in the many faint memories from years ago: the black hair with streaks of cobalt blue, the square shoulders and athletic build beneath the uniform, the subtle softness to his stone-cold expression. But most of all the strikingly familiar face. Everything clicked when she heard him say, “Hello, Twilight.”

“Hello again, Shining Armor.” As they shook hands, Twilight and Armor recognized the smile on the others’ face: they had learned it from the best, and they wore proudly in her memory.

“And I’m Spike!” the boy said boisterously. He puffed out his brazen chest as if to mimic the proud form of the guardsmen, who were easily twice his size and ten years his older. His gregarious, sharp-toothed grin only emphasized his adolescence. Armor shook Spike’s hand; Sledge made no such gesture.

“Pleasantries aside, the convoy is waiting for us. Follow us. Transport’s this way.”

They walked one car behind them to an idling white SUV, the center car in a column of five. Sledge took the driver’s seat and Armor took passenger. Twilight and Spike entered through the center door. A Plexiglas pane separated the front driver’s cabin from the middle passenger cabin, and an impassable retaining wall closed off the cabin from the rear. Despite being sealed from the rest of the car, the siblings were impressed at the cabin’s accommodations. Practically a room on its own, the passenger cabin was built for comfort and luxury, featuring plush leather seats and fine oak trim to distract from the confines of its armored exterior. The siblings took their seats, putting their cargo aside and cozying against the cushions.

In the driver’s cabin, Sledge confirmed the GPS unit was synced with the convoy’s private logistics network. Armor buckled and unbuckled his seatbelt, which chafed against the grip of his HK45. After exchanging looks with each other, and with those in the rear, Sledge nodded his head. He placed finger on his earpiece, removed the parking brake, and gripped his hand on the steering wheel. “Unit 3, ready.” Another second passed as the other units confirmed readiness. The captain gave the green light over the radio, and a light grin came over the veteran guardsman. “And away we go.”

One by one, each car began to pull forward. Spike nearly jumped out of his seat as their vehicle lurched forward. The convoy moved in unison, slithering through the florescent-lit confines of the garage. As they climbed to the top, they passed rows of vacant vehicles, fallen into disuse after over a decade; they seemed to be waiting patiently for their day to come. Soon the convoy came to the garage exit, a trickle of light flowing down the concrete ramp. They were blinded as they ascended to ground level, but their eyes adjusted to the morning’s early splendor.

After so many years, Twilight had grown accustomed to the Institute’s architecture to the point where it felt as mundane as her oatmeal breakfast. But it wasn’t until now, as her departure drew near, did she realize just how spectacular of a sight the Institute was to behold. Inside the towering concrete walls was a city whose shapely spires and patterned glasswork were crafted by both beauty and purpose. Every wall and flowerbed was decorated with squares of Creole marble that would shimmer in the daylight; thin tiles of solar panels covered every square inch of rooftop in a glimmering sheen of deep sapphire. Yet behind the decorative skin of each structure was a network of supports, made of durable alloy that would bond the two halves together through years of wear or warfare. It was a veritable fortress of knowledge and truth, and no expense was spared on proving it. Every building, square, and classroom that composed the massive complex was constructed by the finest architects and construction crews, most of whom were prior or current students of the Institute. But behind the beautiful architecture and durable designs was a simple fact: everything was built to match Cell’s specifications, her vision. The Institute was the pride of the Network, a landmark for themselves, and a stepping-stone into the future; to Twilight, Spike, and many others, the Institute was a place they called “home”.

The wall seemed to grow in stature as they approached. Towering three stories high, the concrete border was lined with guard posts and surveillance equipment. Uniformed security guards, clad in a police vest over their school uniform, watched the convoy approach with both curiosity and intense scrutiny; the braver men and women toed the edge of the sidewalk until they were within arm’s reach of the car, trying to look through the tinted windows. Ahead of them was the front entrance to the Institute, a massive gate of steel and titanium surrounded by the reinforced concrete. They had expected the convoy to stop at the border post, but none of the cars even seemed to slow. Suddenly, the gate was ablaze with activity as alarms chimed, lights flashed, and security guards stood at the ready. Then, unhindered by age or weight, the powerful gate shuddered to life. Neither of them could tear away from the windows as they watched the massive metal guardian inching open to expose the forbidden world beyond.

Creeping through the open maw was as bewildering as it was intimidating. As she crossed the concrete boundary of the Institute, Twilight could feel the physical world shifting in her body and mind. The immensity of the moment was a weight pressing against her chest, stifling her of air. In front of her was a world that she hadn’t seen in ages. Behind her was the world she had always known. And in front of her was a road, ready to take her wherever she needed to be.

Gradually, Twilight acclimated to the new environment. Spike clutched his sister’s hand as they gazed over the landscape. The skies were dark but clear, with inklings of light illuminating the open mountain plains. The fields ran with wild foliage of green and tan, interrupted by jutting rocks and juniper trees. The road was long, empty, and winding, but the view from such height was unobstructed and vast. They felt as if they could see the whole world from atop this mountain.

As they raced down the road towards her destination, a distantly familiar sight greeted her. It was a sign she hadn’t seen in 16 years, from a distant past long behind her. It was sign that both welcomed and warned. For her, it would be a sign for things to come.

The Institute of Military Academics for Guiding the International Community

Even the message was from Cell’s vision.

Save for the muffled sirens from the lead vehicle, the car had been silent for quite some time. The guards hadn’t spoken a word since the journey began, keeping their attention on the seemingly endless road. The car gently rocked from side to side, and the placid quiet had lulled Spike back to sleep. The Institute was a world away, and the convoy showed no signs of stopping.

Armor finally broke the silence. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked with a soft tone.

It took Twilight a moment to realize that Armor had directed his question towards her. The window had been calling to her since they left. With every open field and crooked shadow they passed, a feeling of distant remembrance fell over her. Even as she answered, she could not tear her eyes away. “After so many years inside the Institute, you forget about the world beyond it.”

He nodded, “And to think that we’re the first people in over a decade to see it. It’s funny, really. With so many people, and places to see, it makes me wonder why no one’s allowed out here. Especially when it has so much to-”

“Can the philosophy, Armor.” Sledge barked from the driver’s seat, jabbing a finger towards his subordinate. “You’re on shotgun, so keep your gun close and your eyes out for hostiles.”

The optimism was drained from the young man’s face. The frown on his face was unmistakable as he turned back towards the window, “Yes sir. Sorry, sir.”

Sledge grunted in approval. “The view might be nice, but looks can be deceiving. You should know that attacks can come from anywhere, especially out here in the jungle. You’re a royal guardsman of the Illuminatus, a Knight. So start acting like one! Or I’ll have Captain Light strip you of your status and put you back on patrolling the wall.”

Armor stayed submissively silent, but Sledge wasn’t done yet. He looked towards the back seat and projected his voice accordingly.

“Ma’am, I know this is your first time out of the pen, so here’s the only things you need to know while you’re here.” He held a finger over the gap between the seats, waving it blatantly as if she could miss it. “Number one, ‘say nothing’. Number two, ‘do nothing’. And number three? ‘Trust no one.’ Follow those rules, do you job, and we’ll get you home safely.”

She had already been briefed on procedure outside the Institute. Still, she appreciated the review. “Say nothing. Do nothing. Trust no one. Understood, sir.”

Sledge grunted with approval once more. “You’re a smart girl, Twilight, but this place isn’t for someone like you. The people out here may look like you and me, but they certainly don’t behave like you or me. You’d be wise to remember that.”
Armor chirped in, “With all due respect, sir, I disagree. The Network exists to protect society, not control it. Surely some aspect of society is redeemable in Cell’s eyes, or else she wouldn’t work so hard to protect it.”

Sledge’s patience was wearing thin with his subordinate. He turned towards Armor, the groan in his voice grew louder with his rising temper, “You’re right, it exists to protect society. It protects society from itself. Cell might talk of a ‘brighter future’, but look around: it ain’t happening. Theft, famine, and war are all too common out here. The Network exists because we aren’t like them. We are disciplined, educated, and honorable people with creeds and values to live by. The Institute is the last bastion of decency left in this world. And it is our responsibility to keep the outside world from tainting it. The reason why the Institute has those walls isn’t just to keep the barbarians out. It’s to keep misguided students from leaving.” Sledge turned his attention back to the road, but not before getting the last word, “Like your little girlfriend, Caddis.”

The younger guardsman’s vigilant stature wilted to somber. Armor leaned his head against the window, staring at his dismal reflection. “Cadence,” he said to himself, “her name was Cadence.”

Despite Sledge’s willingness to berate his subordinate further, Armor had lost his will to fight. The young man sank ever so slightly into his seat as he surrendered. Silently, he stared at his reflection in the window. As he looked into the world that flashed past his eyes, he couldn’t help but think of her. He half-hoped to see her there, standing by the roadside, with every strand of her tri-colored hair waving free in the gentle wind. He could still picture her perfect smile, framed by the amorous gaze of her lavender eyes. The glowing warmth of her presence would be enough to melt the bitter despair in his heart. And as they drew nearer, all pretense of tradition would be lost in the reunion of old friends. He didn’t need an apology: he needed to see her one last time, to know she was okay. Just as he had waited for her, she was out there, waiting for him. She was out there, somewhere. Somewhere.

Twilight could read his every longing thought and emotion in the guardsman’s eyes. The same feelings began to resonate with her, causing such emotions to bubble up inside of her. But before such weakness overcame her, she forced herself to look away, staring out the window as she had since the trip began. She gazed into the wooded fields that flanked the roads, back into the darkened world that had rejected her and her brother. It reminded her of a simple fact: she was a student of the Institute, nothing less, and nothing more. With the mission fixed in her mind, Twilight remembered what Sledge had told her.

Say nothing. Do nothing. Trust no one. Do your job. And get home safely.

Chapter 4: Condition Sundown

“All units, be advised, we’ve reached the final checkpoint. ETA: thirty minutes. How copy? Over.”

The other units replied in ascending order. Sledge echoed their words as his turn came, “Unit 3. Solid copy, Captain Light. Over.”

Dawn had broken an hour ago, but the overcast skies scattered sunlight across the dreary land. The vastness of the open fields and distant towns had been replaced with the suffocating confines of a dense forest. An imposing wall of trees flanked both sides of the highway. The public road was once alive with various cars, but after they entered the woods the roads were found oddly barren. Regardless, the convoy maintained its rapid pace, sirens still piercing the otherwise-eerie quiet.

“Something doesn’t seem right here,” Sledge muttered aloud.

Shining Armor replied in kind, “I know, I feel it too.”

“Do you see anything out there?”

“No, sir. I can’t see anything, really.”

Sledge grunted, “Just stay sharp.”

Armor agreed, pulling his MP7 from its holster.

Whether it was from the winter chill or the same creeping intuition, Twilight’s hair began to stand on edge. Armor cocked his MP7 and rested it on his lap to prepare himself, but the intimidating sight and sounds brought Twilight’s gut wrenching in fear. She stared out the window, half-expecting to behold a terrifying monster, its disfigured face staring back at her. Instead she found only a forest too dark to see into. And the shadowy fingers of lurking fog, weaving ominously between the thickets and trees.

A groan beside her almost made Twilight shriek in fear, were it not from her brother. Spike fidgeted in his seat, shifting from side to side as he mashed his hands against his groin. Despite his best attempts to hide his discomfort, the boy continued to utter a series of muffled whines.

“Spike, what’s wrong?” Twilight asked.

“Nothing,” he said too abruptly. Another set of whines escaped him as the discomfort swelled inside him. He was barely holding on.

“Are you sure about that?” she asked incredulously.

Spike feigned normalcy for several seconds, before succumbing. He leaned against the Plexiglas pane towards the driver’s cabin. With his restraint slipping away, Spike made his request as quickly as he could. “Guys, I know now really isn’t the best time…” He took a deep breath to relieve himself, “but I’ve had to piss like a racehorse for the past hour or so-and I didn’t want to disturb you guys seeing as you’re busy and all- but now I’m on the verge of bursting- straight out bursting- back here. So if it wouldn’t be too much trouble could we just pull over somewhere so I can… go?”

Sledge and Armor looked at each other. Then they looked at Spike, who was turning beet red. Spike tried his best to avoid his sister’s embarrassed gaze; even before they left, she had warned him about the orange juice.

Sledge appeared less than concerned. “We’re thirty minutes out from the destination. Can you hold out until then?”

“He won’t last 30 seconds from the looks of it, sir,” Armor chimed in

Sweat and tears dripped from his face as the boy fought against his own body. Slowly but surely, he could feel his own body begin to betray him. If he could, he would have gotten onto his knees and begged, “Puh-leease? Guys, come on. Can’t you just pull over for just a minute?”

“We are not authorized to break formation, and the convoy will not stop on account of a single weak bladder.”

An idea struck the younger guardsman, “Didn’t you have a bottle with you earlier? You could use that.”

Twilight shuddered at such a notion. “Ew, that’s disgusting! Surely Cell or Captain Light would consent to a quick bathroom break.”

“Not likely ma’am. This area is not secure, it is not safe here. We will stop in a location when we are better prepared.”

“Prepared? Prepared for what?”

At that moment, the answer to Twilight’s question struck. A rocket pierced through the fog, slamming against the lead car and hurling the wreckage backwards. The explosion was blurred by the haze, but the fiery plume and rumbling sound announced its arrival. Everyone ducked their heads as shrapnel rained down upon the windows and roof of the car. Taillights swerved left and right as drivers anticipated incoming fire.

The radio erupted with a storm of noise. Multiple voices called out at once in panic and confusion. “Unit one is hit! Unit one is down-““Where’d that come from? Anyone have eyes on-““Contact! Contact on the left!”

The guardsmen of the other cars had disembarked their vehicles and were engaging their unseen enemy. The fog had grown in density, now a wall-like shroud of darkened grey. The distant flashes of gunfire were obscured from sight, but the accompanying bangs still rang through the air. Twilight and Spike instinctively ducked their heads and shut their eyes, hiding from the chaos outside. Even inside their armored car, the danger was too close for comfort.

Armor quickly fastened his grip on his MP7 while Sledge withdrew his pistol. The older man’s expression became razor sharp and more unforgiving than before, a disposition that had been chiseled into him after years of combat. His eyes narrowed and muscles tensed. He looked to his passengers, panicking in the rear. “You two,” he barked, “stay alive.” And with that, Sledge and Armor tossed open their doors, brought their weapons to bear, and disappeared into the fog.

They were alone. The walls and the fog were closing in around her; Twilight could feel them coming closer. Cold beads of sweat trickled as she peered out the window, her eyes darting from one corner to the next, watching for a figure through the thick, grey haze. Her heart was a beating hammer inside her chest, carrying its pounding rhythm through her veins. The sound of helicopters thumped against her eardrums as they hovered over the carnage. She was shaking from the fear, the cold, and the anticipation. Yet she remained still, confined to her chair by her own anxiety. She could only sit, watch the battle unfold, listen to the gunfire and the screams of wounded men, and silently pray that they were not next.

The gunfire behind them was getting closer. The rhythmic bursts of light and sound rang out in series for some time, before suddenly falling silent. The two held their breaths in the looming quiet that followed. And then, like shadows made manifest, they appeared. Dressed in obsidian black, a pair of uniformed soldiers crept through the veil with cautious anticipation. Hunched like wolves over their weapons, the full body of equipment and gear on their uniforms only added to the men’s’ imposing frames. Their mouth and noses were covered by rubber masks, but their heated breaths billowed from the sides like infernal demons.

Spike tried to say something, but he was too terrified to say something in full; the words tumbled out from between his chattering teeth. The elder sister quietly shushed, clasping her hands around him.

Lying together on the floor of the car, Twilight could feel them coming closer. Her trembling arms clenched her brother tighter.

Their boots crunched the earth just behind the car door. As a massive figure loomed over them, a startled gasp escaped the girl’s lips.

Suddenly, a pair of half-shadowed eyes squinted through the tinted glass. Twilight ducked her head, wordlessly praying that they would be safe. If they were still enough, maybe they wouldn’t see them. Maybe they would be distracted by a noise in the fog. Or perhaps someone, anyone, would come to save them. In silent reverence to that unseen god, she seized her shaking, and held her breath. And shut her eyes as hard as she could.

The shuddering chill made Twilight’s heart freeze in terror. A hand grappled the back of her jacket, tearing her from the ground and out the open door into the freezing air. Her back scraped against the unforgiving road, forcing her eyes open to a sky of gray haze. Her legs kicked and her body thrashed in resistance, but the soldier was relentless in pulling her away. He tossed her to the ground and jammed the iron toe of his boot into her back, eliciting a blood-curdling scream from his captive. Unable to move in pain and restraint, Twilight’s face rubbed against the coarse, cold concrete. She could feel the barrel of his rifle pressed against her shoulder blades. Dread flooded her thoughts; she could clearly see blood dripping from the bottom of the man’s shoes.

The soldier clicked on his radio, jabbing his rifle against her for good measure. “Secondary target secure. Repeat, package Element is sec-.”

A barrage of nearby gunfire interrupted his message, striking down the soldier’s partner and forcing him to return fire at the unseen assailant. Every shot from the soldier’s rifle thundered in Twilight’s ear until it was paired with a painful ringing. The empty brass rained hot upon her. She could not gather the strength to escape. The shots and the shells only stopped as the man reloaded. When the ringing in her ears subsided, the first sound she heard was Spike’s charge.

The boy leapt from his hiding spot in the car as he spotted his opportunity. He charged towards the distracted soldier, brazenly blindsiding him from the side. Spike tackled him to the ground with ease. With every ounce of strength he could muster, his fists connected several blows against the man’s face. Anger and adrenaline fueled his attacks, and each strike encouraged him to make another. The boy transformed into a savage beast, whose belly was burning with the fires of hatred.

But as the man regained his awareness, the struggle showed its true face: the undersized boy had picked a fight with ravenous Kodiak bear. The soldier’s hands shot to the holster on his belt, pulling out his pistol. Spike barely dodged the first round, which rang out beside his head. With their hands wrapped around the others’ arm, the two entered a desperate wrestle for control. As they pushed against each other, the muscles of Spike’s skinny arms began to burn beneath his skin. The soldier even smiled as the fight began to turn. The barrel of the pistol drew closer and closer.

As peril drew nearer for Spike, Twilight sprung into action. The girl crawled towards the melee, the pistol now inches away from Spike’s chest. She wrapped her hands around the man’s well-worn wrist and began to pull. For a moment, she held back the tide. But she too was unable to hold him back. Against the added weight of the case and the strength of her attacker, her arms began to lose their strength. She cried out as the pistol slowly began to draw against her.

Panic began to peak in her mind, her eyes searching desperately for a solution. When she saw the knife strapped to his vest, her hands acted out of reflex. The six inch blade was drawn from its scabbard and stabbed into the soldier’s shoulder. The knife worked with soulless efficiency, slicing through cloth, tearing apart skin, and rending muscle with its serrated edge. An unholy scream bellowed from the man’s covered mouth. Her fingers still caught in a vice-like grip, Twilight tried to remove the knife, only to twist the blade back and forth inside the gaping wound. His whole body convulsed in agony. His heavy breath was spent in excruciating cries. A terrified pair of white-rimmed eyes screamed back at her.

Twilight was captivated by the moment. Blood leaked freely from the jutting wound, splashing crimson onto her hands, clothes, and face. Even exposed to the frozen air, the blood was hot as it streaked against her tender skin. The air was still thick with haze, her fingers still warm with blood. The gunfire was beginning to fall distant, but the bangs still echoed louder than the helicopters hovering overhead. She could feel her hands trembling, her mind racing, and her body falling faint. An intense shaking brought her back to reality.

“Come on!” Spike pulled her up to her feet with great urgency, “We’ve got to get out of here!” He tore her away from the wounded man. Twilight couldn’t help but watch the man writhe in a pool of his own blood. It was a twisted, terrible, guilt-ridden fascination. Even as his figure disappeared behind the veil of fog, his groaning agony echoed in her ears and seemed to smother her very soul.

They returned to the car as quickly as their wobbling legs could take them. A large figure was waiting through the fog in front of them, hunched against the side of the SUV. They saw his hand, clutching his handgun. A bolt of electricity shot through their spines. They both fell frozen in shock as the gun aimed suddenly towards them. But as the man’s brown pupils and dim stare looked over them, Sledge lowered his weapon.

The guardsman’s breathing was heavy and labored, but still full of fight. “You two,” he said as he reached for the driver’s side door, “we’re getting out of here.”

Twilight’s voice trembled, “Where’s Cell- Armor- the others-“

“They’re retreating- like us. We’ll regroup at the destination.” He tossed open the driver’s side door, “Go, get inside.”

Spike was already in motion, jumping into the middle cabin. Twilight followed close behind, but something caught her eye. Sledge’s left hand was clenched over his gut, but the growing blot of red gave his wound away. “Sledge, you’re hurt!”

“It’s nothing, I’m fine,” he replied. He tried to take in a deep breath to hide his weakness, but his face twitched sharply with pain. Twilight shuddered as his hand lifted slightly from the wound, revealing a hole in his jacket and the gruesome chunk of flesh underneath. “Caught a stray… below the vest. Fuckin-… should have been more careful.”

As Twilight’s hand gravitated towards his wound, Sledge’s bloodied hand lurched forward. “Look out!” he shouted, shoving Twilight aside quickly. He brought his HK45 to bear, opening fire upon two enemies behind the car. A body could be seen dropping within the mist, but not before firing off rounds in return. A burst rang out, and Sledge staggered backwards. He stumbled against the hood of the car, before toppling onto the ground.

The woman crouched beside the man, eyeing the two new holes that perforated his chest. The red was already beginning to flow like a grotesque fountain. The man’s labored breathing became wheezy and shallow, and his iron-willed attitude began to crack under distress. Twilight removed her jacket and compressed it against his wounds. But with a grim shake of his head, Sledge stopped her. “Don’t,” he struggled to say.

As he lay upon the ground, blood draining from his wounds, Twilight could feel the man’s anguish. He had just saved her life: she couldn’t give up on him. Her mind raced for a way to save him, but nothing came. At the least, she tried to say something comforting, something to ease his pain and passing. But again, nothing came.

She placed her hand on his massive shoulder. The flow of stricken tears welled in Twilight’s eyes, “Sledge…”

Sledge’s austerity returned at the sight of her sadness. “Don’t cry,” he ordered with bated breath. Blood sprayed from his nose and mouth as he was battered by coughing. “You will not be weak, that… is an order.” He knew he was spent. The wounds grew worse, and he could feel his body failing. “I did my duty… my job. You… must do yours.” The weakness was settling in, and the guardsmen’s body fell limp to the ground. Even as his breaths grew short, he spoke with determined authority, “You know what to do. Get to the others. Remember the rules... Do your job. And… and…”

“Get home safely,” they whispered in somber unison.

And with a tired wave of his hand, the dying knight sent the student on her way.

Twilight settled into the driver’s seat of the SUV, the engine still running. In her absolute focus, she quickly removed the brake and punched the gas pedal. The car lurched forward into the fog, shifting off the side of the road. Images of bodies and wreckage strewn across the lanes flashed past the windows; she didn’t care to look. Gunfire opened upon her from inside the fog, but she remained unphased as the bullets bounced off the car’s armor. The sound of helicopters rushed over them, before disappearing altogether into the distance.

Indeed, as they escaped the site of the carnage, everything disappeared around them. The fog that had blanketed every inch of scenery around them began to recede, leaving only a long stretch of road. The flurry of sound that had once surrounded them became mute and distant, leaving only the monotonous hum of the SUV’s engine. And the sensation of touch from their fingers had grown numb by the adrenaline that coursed through them. The only smell that remained was the oppressive scent of iron that now stained her nostrils.

In the distance, she could imagine Sledge still lying on the road, dying in a puddle of his own blood like the wounded man before. Over the radio, she could hear him gave his final report. His voice grew faint. And his breaths, less frequent. “To any unit in range…Condition Sundown. Repeat, Condition…Sundown…. Sundown-”

Chapter 5: The Heart of Darkness

They had escaped the enemy, but Twilight felt trapped inside her own skin. The scenery outside never seemed to change; it was always fog, always road, always moving with her. Those moments kept playing in her head like a broken record, repeating the same flashes of gunfire, the sounds of injured cries, and the touch of warm blood upon her hands. As the thoughts of the dead and dying lingered in her mind, so did the tears well in her eyes. She was tempted to let them flow, like blood from a gaping wound. But she remembered the face of her guardian, lying in the middle of the road as the light in his determined eyes began to dim. She remembered what he told her. She ignored the knot in her gut, and ceased her tears in a permanent scowl. She said nothing, thought nothing, and kept her focus on the road in front of them. It was Sledge’s last request: she had to be strong.

The GPS lead them deeper into the forest, where the public roads disappeared into a network of lonely paths and tangled dirt trails. The fog had lifted slightly, but only enough to make out the thickets of barren trees and massive boulders on the side of the road. Their path wound through the rising forest and climbed the base of the mountain, steadily ascending across long narrows and jagged switchbacks . The car bucked left and right over uncertain terrain like a rebellious horse, threatening to toss them down the mountain’s jagged slopes. But as they climbed, the road began to relent. The fog began to withdraw as they neared the top, and Twilight could appreciate the breathing room. And as their car crested the summit, the manor’s splendor came into full view.

Surrounded by a forest of desolate trees, Selenic Manor was a bastion of civility. Standing two stories tall, the manor could have been mistaken for an ancient gothic church, were it not for the curious-looking dome-shaped construction that protruded through the manor’s roof. Its walls were made of slate-grey stone, standing flatly upright as if to stand at attention. The corners of the manor’s roof was adorned with gargoyles, whose watchful eyes seemed to keep the haze at bay. The stone ledges were ornately etched with motifs of bats, flowing water, and the various cycles of the moon. A cobblestone court led its guests around a crescent-shaped path, leading from the open gate to the front of the manor.

The lone car pulled in front of the manor’s stone stairway. As the engine was turned off, it seemed to shudder with a sigh of relief; its passengers did the same. Both of them felt utterly languished. Spike sunk back into his seat while Twilight slouched over the steering wheel; her body may have been weeping with exhaustion, but her mind refused to relent. Her eyes scanned the dents from deflected bullets and smears of blood on the windows and hood of the car. Her head sunk lower, but she forced her emotions at bay.

“Sis,” Spike asked from the rear, “Are you alright?”

It was a stupid question. A stupid, stupid question with no right answer. She couldn’t tell him the truth. She had to be strong. Whatever that meant.

A familiar weight tugged at her arm. Twilight looked at the Kevlar handcuffs, and at the mysterious black case still attached to it. With all the time she had spent with it on, she had grown acclimated to its heft; with all that had happened, she had forgotten about its purpose, and hers. But the black-haired student never thought twice about obeying orders. With this case, she would complete her mission. She would get home safely. They would all get home safely.

Twilight wasted no time getting outside. Her hands and feet were still shaking as they climbed up the manor’s stone staircase. As she stepped upon the final stair, the pair of the fine wood doors opened. From the darkness inside, three figures took her by surprise. Standing side by side, three heavy-set men stood guard over the entrance, a permanent grimace hidden behind a pair of tinted sunglasses. The storm grey suit jackets and charcoal undershirts concealed them within the darkened room, but the bulletproof vest and magazine-clad pouches protruding from underneath their uniform announced their true purpose. Their index fingers waited in disciplined anticipation upon the triggers of their FN P90 personal defense weapons. From behind the pairs black narrowed lenses, the human gargoyles looked down upon her.

“Twilight?” the middle man grunted.

Her first reaction was to run, but her feet remained frozen to the ground. The girl sheepishly sank into her shoes. “Yes?”

The man pressed a finger against his throat microphone. Even though his eyes were hidden behind a pair of tinted lenses, Twilight knew the man never broke eye contact, even as he spoke. “She’s here.”

The sound of footsteps began to echo from the hallway inside. As they neared, the guards parted ways, taking their positions with their backs against the wall. Another man, dressed in a similar uniform, removed his pair of sunglasses as he approached. The man was younger than he looked, but the series of thin, deep creases on his face betrayed his age; during his career of sleepless diligence, he wore those wrinkles with pride. His expression was as cold and tempered as the others’, but he seemed to stand a head above his subordinates. Not even sparing a polite smile for the greeting, he outstretched a leathery hand as his voice growled, “Twilight. My name’s Manticore, Midnight’s interim head of security.”

Twilight reached to shake his hand, but was soon overcome with her panicked report. The words just flowed from her mouth. “Manticore, something’s wrong. Our convoy was attacked, and-“

The grizzled man was less than sympathetic. He held up his hand, “We are well aware of the situation, ma’am. Do you or your assistant require medical attention?”

She shook her head, “No, but-“

“I assure you that we are doing everything we can regarding the situation. However, Midnight ordered that you be brought to her immediately upon your arrival.” He moved aside and motioned towards the open darkness. “This way. Follow me.”

Twilight and Spike followed Manticore through the lavish halls of the mansion. Their shoes clacked against the black marble floors as they wandered through the mansion’s main hall. Silver-framed paintings adorned the fine-wooded walls, but the portraits impossible to distinguish due to the imposing darkness. Within each room they crossed, every window had been closed and every curtain drawn shut. The dark-clad guards stood at their post like specters, blending seamlessly into the shadows.

“Question,” Spike announced, “Don’t you think it’s a little dark in here? Is it even safe to be wearing sunglasses in a place like this?”

“My men are as capable with operating in the dark as much as you are in the light. The Umbra guards have always been trained to operate in low-light environments. It’s in our name, and in our nature.“

“Okay. And the sunglasses are for…”

“Optical aids. Just as you require night vision to see in the dark, we require sunglasses to see in the day.” There was a pause as if to question Spike’s motivations for asking. “It is a security measure. I assure you that the darkness is merely a precaution. It is for your own good. “

A wretched feeling began building inside her gut that trickled up her spine and through her body. Twilight understood that the black-suited security was necessarily tight around a meeting of such importance, but the feeling still remained. She felt the urge to stop: stop thinking, stop walking, stop everything. She couldn’t put her finger on what was wrong, or why. Probably just my nerves. I have to get over it.

There was a slight relief at the pleasant sound of classical music, drifting through the air as Manticore led them past the living room. Opening a set of glass double doors, he gestured them inside, “After you.”

Twilight and Spike hesitantly stepped out from the darkened halls, and they soon found themselves embraced by the clouded daylight. The room resembled a garden balcony, perched outside the manor’s confining walls. The walls and ceilings were made of a transparent material, delivering a flawless, panoramic view of the surrounding landscape. Blankets of thick fog rolled below them, flowing endlessly across the horizon. Below the overcast sky, the mountain estate was a lone island stranded by a sea of grey haze. The room was completely insulated by inch-thick panes of reinforced Plexiglas; it would take a devastating amount of force to even scratch it. She pressed her hand against the window to try and reach into the vastness beyond, only to touch an impassable barrier.

She turned away from the windowed walls. A fixture in the center of the room caught her eye, and she began to approach with divine curiosity. It was a beautifully decorated pool of water, shaped as a hemisphere with its curves directed perfectly East. Its border displayed the lunar phases, beginning on and with a new moon and cresting with a full moon. The basin was built into the stone floor and contained no more than an inch depth of water. As shallow as it may have been, the water trapped inside was perfectly serene, a mirror of flawless clarity that had been undisturbed for many years.

As she looked into the reflecting pool, what she found froze her stiff. Staring back at her was a face, marked by fear and hurt. Her hair was a mess, strewn into an errant scattering of pink and black. Skin was scratched and broken, forming fresh scars across the cheeks, nose, and forehead. Despite her best attempts to wipe it all away, small smears of blood still stained her face, neck, and clothes. And, staring back at her were a pair of tired violet eyes, bloodshot by pain and sorrow. Lost in her own image, Twilight couldn’t tear herself away. The black-haired girl gazed deeply into the stricken eyes in front of her; she was reading into her own wounded soul. Ruin flowed through her. Salty tears stung as they trickled through the still-fresh cuts. And as those tears silently dripped down her cheeks and from her face, they rippled across the mirror’s lucid surface.

“Beautiful, is it not?” The baritone voice reverberated the air, catching both Spike and Twilight offguard.

Twilight turned around and wiped her eyes as a figure emerged from the darkness behind her. The slender woman stepped into the grey sunlit room with Manticore and an entourage of guards behind her. The middle-aged woman looked exactly like the pictures from the briefing. The color of her dress matched that of her pitch black hair, and the two entities waved from her body by a divine wind. The heels of her shoes clacked against the stone floors in confident stride as she approached.

“The guards stationed here created a legend, that Luna filled it with water using nothing more than her own regrets. Every night, she would gaze into the pool, reflect upon the sins she had committed, and fill the pool once more. Ever since the first day of her imprisonment, this room had become something of a home for her- an obsession, if you wish. She would spend entire nights here, staring up towards the moon-lit sky and down into the pool before you. She never said what she was looking for. No one knows what she saw. But she never spoke, and she never stopped. I choose to think that she was merely waiting for the day when her sins could be forgiven, and she could be free once again.”

Both Twilight and Spike bowed reverently in the woman’s presence. They greeted her in unison, as dictated by tradition, “Greetings, Director Midnight.”

The shadowy director did not return the gesture. “Twilight, Spike, our guests of honor. I’ve been eagerly expecting you both.”

Twilight raised her head and immediately stepped forward, “Ma’am, there is an urgent matter at hand. Our convoy was attacked by an unknown enemy. Cell has-”

She shrugged off Twilight’s concern with an indifferent wave of her hand, “Yes, I am very well aware of the situation, and I hope you can illuminate the matter further. However, there is something I must ask first.” Midnight turned to Spike, standing idly beside his sister, “Spike, our communications system with the Institute appears to have been severed. We believe it to be a technical fault. You were trained as a technical specialist, were you not?”

“Top of my class in technical and communications operations, and it’s my final year of intelligence analysis,” he confidently replied.

“Very good. I will have you escorted to our communications room. Do whatever you must to reconnect us with the Institute’s network.”

Spike was honored to put his skills to use on something so crucial; he already felt like a part of the rescue effort. With a weary grin, he nodded obediently before the Umbra guards escorted him outside. Midnight and Manticore shared a subtle nod before the latter left the room as well.

Midnight motioned towards a set of tables and two chairs on the side of the room. Her voice was like a strict mother’s: polite, pleasant, and authoritative, “My dear Twilight, you must be exhausted. Please, have a seat.”

Twilight’s body was still reeling from exhaustion. She graciously accepted the offer. As she reached to pull her chair out, she recognized the ornate ironwork on the back and arms. The table and chairs were identical to the ones within the Institute’s Palace garden. She remembered the lush beds of flowers, the many cultivations of rare plants, and the maze of manicured hedges. It was there, under a beautiful sky and the beaming sun, she received her first lessons as Cell’s protégé. And the first lesson was proper etiquette.

Despite her fatigue, Twilight stood up a little straighter. “I… I feel fine standing, thank you.”

“But you’ve had such a long journey. There’s no reason to stay standing. Please, sit.”

“I don’t wish to be rude, but I must decline. Cell would disapprove of such disregard of formality. She would never allow her subordinates to sit during a meeting whilst she wasn’t present. I must wait until she is here.”

“But Cell isn’t here, is she? You should not worry about anyone else other than yourself, Twilight. Take a seat. Everything that will happen shall happen in due time.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but it would not be appropriate for me to-“

The pleasant politeness of Midnight’s voice vanished, replaced by the venom of impatience, “I said sit!”

Twilight, shocked by the sudden change of heart, immediately complied.

With a content grin, Midnight began to circle the table like a hawk, her heels still clacking against the stone floors. “I’m glad you came, my dear. It is a pity that neither Cell nor Luna could attend today’s meeting. As you know, something… unexpected came up for them both. But you musn’t worry, Twilight. You must not worry about your betters.”

With a wave of her hand, the last of the guards exited the room. The sound of the glass doors slamming shut echoed through the chamber. Twilight could feel her gut filling with dread as Midnight continued to speak in her falsely-sweet tone, “In spite of- or perhaps because of- our current circumstances, I do believe we have much to discuss. I have been dying to see you ever since I first learned of you.”

“You have? But… I’m no one important, ma’am. I’m just a stu-“

“’-Just a student’, surely. Believe me, were you just another sniveling student in Cell’s mouthful of an Institute, she wouldn’t have gone through such extensive measures to hide your existence from the others, and from me. Of all of the records on each of the Institute’s students, only yours is filed directly through Cell’s personal office. As the rules would have it, merely viewing the file would have to be personally authorized by the woman herself. Yet despite her best bureaucratic attempts, my sources were able to uncover quite a bit of information on you.” Midnight’s confident fingers interlaced as they rested on the table. “You’ve always been a curious student. Would you like to hear what I know?”

As a grin creased her thin, aged lips, Midnight rested her chin on her fingers, leaning forward onto the cool, cast iron table in anticipation. Her dark turquoise eyes flickered with enjoyment as they scanned over her guest of honor. The two halves of Twilight’s mouth were shut like a safe, unwilling to utter even the smallest breath. Something was clearly amiss.

“I can tell you’re afraid, Twilight. I am too, my dear. And I can also guarantee Cell is feeling fear for the first time… in a long time. But you should not avoid it: you should embrace it. Fear is natural, merely uncertainty in the face of the unknown. And these are exciting times for us all, are they not?”

Twilight avoided looking at the woman’s piercing eyes, “Ma’am, with all due respect, we should discuss about the situation at hand. Someone attacked us. People died back there. What are we doing about it?”

“Nothing,” she answered with despicable disdain, “they were necessary casualties. To be expected.”

Twilight’s jaw fell agape at Midnight’s callous answer, “Necessary? Necessary for what?”

“Necessary for a change in leadership.”

The knot in her gut was twisting tighter and tighter as blood flushed from her face. Baffled, she stammered to ask, “W-w-What? I don’t understand…”

“You’re simpler than you sound. Do you not see? Cell betrayed us.”

Such an impossible accusation stung as it fell upon her ears. Twilight immediately replied with an accusation of her own, “You’re lying!”

“Am I now? I have lied to you no more than Cell has. The fact of the matter is that she betrayed us with her weakness. Her incompetence put the entire organization, and the entire integrity of the world, at stake. You’re merely just blinded by loyalty to see that. I can fix that.”

The blood in her veins began to heat as the truth dawned upon her. “So you… you planned this. You did this?”

“I know your experience with the outside world is limited at best, so let me be clear: power has always been the only thing that matters. One woman can rule the world as she sees fit if she can overpower anyone who dares oppose her. The world will not yield to bouquets of roses, but wills of iron. Wills… like mine.”

“And you planned to betray her?”

“’Betray her?’ Twilight, you’re sadly misguided. She betrayed us. Her incompetence put the entire organization, very integrity of the world, at stake. There was a time when she and I ruled as commanders of the globe, practically raising the sun and the moon for the pitiful souls of this world. Our orders were revered and never questioned; it was beautiful. But I see now that she has grown soft, weak, and withdrawn from reality. As a result, the Network has become stagnant, and now it festers from within. I intend to save the Network from itself, and Cell is the woman who stands in my way.”

Twilight got to her feet, aiming a finger towards Midnight’s insolent smile, “You bitch! You shameless traitor! You’ll never get away with this!”

Midnight’s hand shot forward. Suddenly, a glow of cerulean light emanated from the tips of her fingers, before engulfing her entire hand. Twilight felt herself being pinned down against the unforgiving iron. She looked down, and found the same cerulean glow wrapped tightly around her wrists like coiled snakes. Midnight enjoyed watching the girl helplessly squirm in confusion and terror. “Watch your tongue, girl. I’m likely to have it removed.”

Twilight’s heart began to race with fluttering fury. Try as she might, her hands could not move. A force of great weight and power was pressing against her wrists. Trapped by the shackles of light, she could only shudder in futility as she continued to struggle. Reason itself seemed to fail her as Twilight’s mind was wracked with confusion. It made no sense. This unnatural force defied all reason. And it was being used against her.

Midnight to continue circling her baffled victim, chuckling in amusement over her victim’s awestruck terror, “Oh, there’s so much that Cell never taught you, things you couldn’t even imagine.” As she walked to Twilight’s side, Midnight’s flowing black figure seemed to tower over the young woman. “But I can see your potential, Twilight. I can feel the very essence that flows through your veins, lying dormant, waiting for someone to unlock its true potential. For this reason, I will make you a most generous offer; depending on how you choose, your future will be very bright, or very dark indeed. You may remain loyal to your lying teacher, and stand beside her in front of a firing squad. Or you can join me, and help restore the Network together. I will take you as my student, and I will offer you more than just this meager taste of my power.”

Twilight averted her gaze, resisting the presence by staring straight forward.

The piercing sound of Midnight’s footsteps stopped only inches away. “So, what will it be?” she asked in her falsely sweet voice.

Twilight averted her gaze, resisting the presence by staring straight forward. Midnight’s flowing black figure towered over the young woman. She leaned closer in anticipation of an answer. But the girl refused to budge. The Kevlar handcuffs felt like they were strangling her wrist. Cell’s instructions echoed in her head, “The contents inside are of the utmost importance, Twilight…. You must keep it out of the wrong hands…. Never let go of it.”

Anger seeped into Midnight’s intimidating tone, “Mercy is a privilege I give to few people, and your chances for it grow slim. Do you accept, or not?”

Twilight turned away, shuddering as her captor’s looming face drew nearer.

Midnight refocused her attention. She placed her finger underneath Twilight’s chin, letting the sharp nail dig into the soft skin. She dragged Twilight’s face towards her own, “Even my patience has its limit, girl. You will submit to me.” Midnight leaned close to Twilight’s face. Twilight, frozen in fear, couldn’t escape the turquoise gaze of the director’s narrow, cat-like pupils. “You will surrender. Or you will die.”

Time stopped as Twilight stared into the woman’s face, a frozen expression of anger, impatience, and conceit. Tense silence came between them. For the longest time, neither of them moved. But a lone beam of sunlight broke from the overcast sky, shining through the glass ceiling. As its warmth thawed her senses, the young woman glared into the woman’s eyes. Twilight spit in the face of subjection, and barked the only phrase that came to her mind, “Go to hell.”

Midnight’s entire face was engulfed in a devilish scowl. She ripped her long fingernail across the bottom of Twilight’s chin. Her victim winced at the pain as a stream of warm liquid began to trickle down her chin and neck. “You stupid girl,” she said, wiping the spit from her face. “I had hoped that you would convert to the side of the reason, yet you persist on being a pest. Your stubborn dedication could have been useful to us. It’s such a shame that such positive qualities will go to waste.”

Midnight stood back up, her devilish form once again towering over her, “Very well. If you won’t give me what I want, then I will take it from you.” With a snap of her fingers, she ordered, “Manticore, get it.”

A sudden force took Twilight by surprise. Shoving Twilight to top of the table, Manticore had arrested her arm, twisting it painfully behind her back and immobilizing it with his body. Pressure pushed down upon Twilight’s neck, pinning her head against the table’s cold grating. Despite the girl’s feeble resistance, his left hand snaked towards the briefcase. And as he tossed the black case onto the table, Twilight’s handcuffed wrist smashed against the corner. Pinned by her oppressor, Twilight could only scream, her body now ringing with pain. Over the sound of her shouts and screams, Midnight could only smile. She gingerly ran her softly-glowing fingers over the case’s surface before grasping a finger on Twilight’s handcuffed hand. She fought against Midnight’s influence, but she succumbed to the woman’s chilling touch. The finger was pressed against the biometric scanner on the case, and a blue light began diligently scanning the appendage. Before she managed to tear it away from the screen. The blue light disappeared. The case chirped compliantly.

“Do you see how pointless your struggle is?” Midnight berated as she turned the case towards herself, “how do you expect Cell to fight back and win against me, when her own protégé can’t even protect herself?”

Through the muffled sound of unseen mechanisms, the locks came undone.

“You see, I’ve been preparing for this day for a long time. Luna’s underlings have been unified under my vision far better than they ever were with hers. Yet as weak and inept as Cell truly is, she still wields considerable power and resources over me. Case and point, Project Harmony.”

The lids hesitantly began to open.

“Cell, in her typical lack of foresight, thought she would grant such a powerful weapon to Luna, the very enemy she had sought to defeat only years ago. Together, they would jointly control the force that has kept the world intact for years. Or so she dreamed…”

An intense light flickered to life inside the case, casting a blue glow outwards.

Midnight’s face was lit with anticipation. “But now, with this in my possession, there is nothing left to stop me. Cell has lost every bargaining chip she could have ever hoped to play: her protégé, Luna, and now her access to Project Harmony. Every piece has finally fallen into place.”

Dread filled the room. The beam of sunlight that had illuminated the room was snuffled out by the graying skies. The fine stream of classical music was killed mid-song. And every emotion in Twilight’s defeated body shifted to a singular feeling of despair. In a single solemn moment, the world had fallen silent.

Manticore observed the handcuff that connected Twilight and the console’s case. “Ma’am, do you want me to dispose of her?”

Midnight was unimpressed by Manticore’s suggestion, “Don’t be foolish. Our guest may still be of use to us. She may be stubborn, but she can be broken.” The case was shut with a firm delicacy. “Has the boy accessed the Institute’s communications network?”

The side of his jacket slipped loose as Manticore nodded in confirmation. “Our techs are proceeding with phase two as we speak. The assault units are beginning their assembly at OP Obsidian.”

The holster of his FN Five-seveN pistol revealed itself from behind the man’s jacket, just within reach. Twilight’s full attention fell upon this gun. But while her heart began to race, her mind tried to remain inconspicuous. She remained weak, frozen, and defeated while Midnight continued speaking. “You and your men have performed your duties well thus far, Manticore. But we are on a tight schedule.” Her dress swished confidently as she turned around, looking out into the grey sea of clouds. “Have your men-“

Twilight found her opening. Her hand lurched backwards, grabbing onto the pistol and pulling it out in a flash. With one free hand, she aimed in Midnight’s direction. Manticore reached to wrestle the gun from her, but he was too late. Twilight’s finger jammed on the trigger once, twice, three times in rapid succession.

The first two rounds missed, embedding themselves into the thick Plexiglass window, but the last round hit its mark. Midnight staggered forward as the round struck her high in the neck. A splash of blood painted the wall, and a chunk of flesh was evidently torn away. With slow, deliberate movements, she reached for her wound and looked at the red that stained her fingers.

But instead of a hearing a cry of agony, Twilight heard an evil cackle that chilled her bones. Her gut sunk into her shoes as Midnight, seemingly unphased from her mortal wound, turned back to face her. She lifted her hand over the gruesome section of exposed meat and tissue, and the lights once again began spiraling around her fingers. And as she slid her fingers across the gaping wound, the missing flesh reformed instantly. Only a deep scar remained.

Twilight’s eyes were wide with wordless terror. “What… are you?”

Midnight glared back at her with a mixture of seething rage and sadistic pleasure. Suddenly, Midnight’s fingers flashed with light again, rejuvenated with renewed vigor. A misty circle of light formed around Twilight’s neck. And as the woman began to clench her fingers together, the unseen force strangled Twilight’s throat like a noose. Her terrified heartbeat pounded in her temples. Her fingers grasped around her throat for a set of hands that weren’t really there. She choked and sputtered as she fought to breathe. Midnight raised her hands, and the grip on Twilight’s reddening throat was brought higher, pulling her off her feet. She panicked, kicking the air fruitlessly like a macabre puppet. And as she pulled Twilight forward, closer and closer until they were standing face to face, Midnight’s voice was disturbingly serene, “I am the end of Cell’s reign. I am the one she once dreamed of, a nightmare from her past. The lackey you called Midnight is dead. But in her place rises a woman who has rebuilt the Umbra, and will now lead the Network to its rightful glory.”

With a flick of her wrist, Midnight threw the girl aside like a ragdoll. Twilight didn’t have a chance to react or save herself. She struck the wall with enough force to crack the Plexiglas pane. Her brain smashed against the inside of her skull like a bullet train meeting a concrete wall. Her mind was shot. All sensation in her body was lost. Her vision began to fade. But as she shut her eyes, Twilight listened to Midnight’s final words to her.

“Remember this day, little Twilight, for it was your last. From this moment forth, the night will last forever.”

And everything faded into darkness.

Chapter 6: A Waking Nightmare

Twilight believed she was dead.

Everything was still. Her body had vanished. The world around her ceased to exist.

She could barely comprehend her own thoughts- Her mind was an intricate creation reduced to smoldering wreckage, a string of shattered synapses and electrical shortage that swirled in the vacuum of her skull; thoughts only existed as broken fragments, leaking recognizable nonsense and broken records to the forefront of her handicapped cognizance: could anything be salvaged?

Humpty Dumpty. It was a nursery rhyme.

Mother would sing it before bed. How did it end?

“All the king’s horses, and all the king’s men… they never saw her ever again.”

Her eyes began to flutter, taking glimmers of light. Now she only wished she was dead.

Twilight could feel her consciousness flickering on and off like a bulb burning out. Her eyes felt like they were bulging out of their sockets trying to focus on the shadowed ceiling above her. Her body was weak and immobile, paralyzed by a great weight on top of her. Breathing was an act of manual labor. The gnawing hunger in her stomach only emphasized her fatigue. And the headache she had was the worst pain she had ever felt, like being repeatedly stabbed in the brain from the inside out. For what felt like hours, the girl was left lying down in the darkened room, fighting with a half-scrambled mind to regain control of her own body.

It was a painstaking process. The first sign of progress was the sound of rain. The empty ringing in her ears subsided to the pattering against glass, a shower of droplets to herald the coming storm. Next, her eyes achieved a focused picture. Unable to move, she had to roll her neck to look around. Faint brushes of light shone through the frosted glass windows onto the wooden floors of the darkened room. The bed she was lying upon was nearest to the room’s only window, but across the wide room were faint silhouettes of dressers, framed pictures upon tables, and a large wood door. The numbness began to subside as her sense of touch began to return, spreading from her core and on to her extremities. The handcuffs were still there, but her wrist felt unusually light. Despite her discomfort, Twilight found a little solace from the plush silk sheets, sliding cleanly between her fingertips.

When her body felt whole again, she fought against the weight on her shoulders and force herself upright. She dragged her legs over the edge of the bed. The gap between her feet and the floor was only a few inches, yet it felt like miles. Twilight shut her eyes and forced her feet down, planting one foot onto the wood below. And then the other. She tried to stand, but her frail legs betrayed her at the attempt. She tried once more, but again failed. On the fourth arduous attempt, she launched herself upright with enough force to achieve verticality. Her own legs felt like stilts splinted to her body. Unable to find her balance, she succumbed to the weight of the world around her. The world spun as she began to fall. Twilight hoped the silken mattress would catch her; she only found the unforgiving touch of the hard wood floor.

After her collapse, the girl’s head was once again sent reeling. Despite lying still on the floor, the world spun blindly like a centrifuge around her. As the spinning began to slow, a fist began pounding on the wall beside her.

“Twilight?” her brother call from an adjacent room, “Twilight, is that you?”

Her voice pleaded for mercy. “Spike… I… I can’t move. I can’t…”

Another series of rapping on the wall. “Don’t move. We’ll find help. Just don’t hurt yourself.” It was too late for that now, wasn’t it? “How badly are you hurt?”

Twilight’s legs began to feel faint and invalid, like that part of her was fading from existence. She knew was too weak to attempt standing again. She dragged herself towards the sound of his voice, propping herself up against the wall between them. “I can… barely feel anything.”

Spike turned his back against the wall. The back of his head thumped against the barrier between them. “They scuffed me up a bit too, but I’m alive. That’s more than I thought about you when they dragged you out of that room. I’m… I’m just glad you’re okay.”

But he was wrong. Twilight was far from ‘okay’, and she knew it.

The rain began to rattle the window as Spike continued to speak. “We’ll get through this. We’ll break out of here, and make a run for it through the trees. Or maybe someone’s coming to rescue us. Cell knows we’re out here, so she’s sure to come for us, right?”

But the boy’s optimism fell hollow in her ears. Twilight, slouched over her own broken body in an unlit room hundreds of miles from her home, was forced to accept the grim reality: she was a failure.

Sledge had given the orders to the wrong person. For all the emotions suppressed, the words left unspoken, and the attempts to be strong, none of it came manifest. Sledge’s last words, his last testament in life, were said for nothing. She now knew. Twilight was anything but strong. She can’t even stand on her own two feet, failing to accomplish what even an infant can. Her body was frail, spent, and senseless, and now simply waiting for the inevitable grace of death. And what would her legacy be? She was never anything more than a student, a pedantic hermit who slept in libraries and had no friends. She was little more than an encyclopedia with legs. Legs that were now as useless as she was. Cell had chosen wrong. Cell was a teacher whose efforts and lessons had been wasted on this sad excuse for a pupil. Someone else, anyone else, should have been chosen for such an esteemed opportunity. Had anyone else been Cell’s student, they would have been chosen for this mission. They wouldn’t have run from the fight. They wouldn’t cry in the face of despair. They wouldn’t be stupefied by doubt and betrayal. That person would have succeeded… where Twilight had inevitably failed.

This was the inevitable outcome, culminated by her own failures and weakness. This was the fate Cell spoke of.

Neither of them knew what to say next.

Spike’s voice trembled like a child’s, “Twi, why are they doing this?”

“Because they can.” Her cold, emotionless response did nothing to alleviate Spike’s fears.

“W-what do you think they’ll do to us?”

“Anything they want.”

“Will they imprison us?”

“Probably.”

“Will… they torture us?”

“Perhaps.”

“Will they- would they…,” Spike struggled to force the words from his mouth, “kill us?”

There was nothing she could say to him. There was no right answer to the question. She just looked at the handcuffs strapped around her chaffed wrist, and the enigmatic case attached to it. After a long, painful, contemplative silence, Twilight hesitantly answered, “I… I don’t know.”

She had one job, one simple task: hold onto that case, no matter what. But she had failed. The cord that connected the two halves was completely severed, leaving only frayed edges of Kevlar. She stared at the lone cuff that clung to her wrist, its severed tail a reminder of what had once been there. Cell’s words rang in her memory once more, “you must keep it out of the wrong hands. You hold the most powerful element in your hand. Never let go of it.” Were there a noose hanging in front of her, Twilight would have gladly put her head through and ended her life of shame.

The door of her room swung open, catching her off-guard. The menacing outlines of three guards entered, their full forms flashing only momentarily as they stepped through the shaft of light from the rain-covered window. They ordered her to stand. She could not. Spike pounded on the walls again, shouting words of protest and encouragement that she could not hear. When the Umbra guardsmen swarmed over her, gripping her arms and dragging her across the room, she did not fight back.

As Twilight was dragged from the room, Manticore was waiting in the hallway for her. His expression was as cold as it always had been. His slate-grey eyes glistened as he glared at her. “Stand,” he ordered. Her legs refused to obey, seemingly too weak to move. “Stand!” he ordered once more. As his shout reverberated through the darkened room, her legs seemed to stand at attention out of reflex. Twilight remained unsteady, wobbling from side to side in her weakness, but her feet remained planted on the unsteady ground. Shouting and vulgarities erupted from the adjacent room as Spike was dragged out as well. The guards arrested his arms and neck with relative ease, but the boy continued to resist. With both siblings in his custody, Manticore nodded to his men, “Get them outside. It’s time.”

A barrel of a gun jabbed into her back, compelling her to walk.

One arduous step at a time, the group made their way through the darkened heart of the mansion. As they walked across the marble banister, the group could see the nightmare coming true. The mansion atrium was alive with the sounds of heavy bootsteps and heavier equipment. The curtains were drawn back slightly, only allowing an uttering of light to bleed through. Portraits and paintings that had once adorned the walls in their golden frames had gone missing. The fine glass-topped centerpiece table had been discarded and replaced by imposing rows of industrial folding tables. Additional teams of guardsmen were preparing for war, cocking their weapons and checking each others’ gear. Technical specialists, men and women who were young enough to have been trained in the Institute, weaved through the layers of electrical wiring that cobwebbed over the marble floor. As the group descended the stairs, rows of computer screens flickered to life in a cascade of scattered LED lights. Cheers broke out between some of the techs and soldiers; team leaders were quick to shout them out, and order them to get to work.

The large entrance doors stood before them. As they opened, the darkness retreated to the sight of the dark grey skies. Twilight shuddered as the warmth in her veins was flushed out by the winter chill. Her lungs filled with air, cold and wet from the falling rain. The overcast sky obscured the current time, and the only proof that the sun was still there was the scattering of light that seemed to grow darker with each passing moment.

Standing placidly at the top of the manor’s stone staircase was someone whom Twilight had expected. With a guard holding an umbrella over her head, Midnight stared contentedly into the downpour. She didn’t turn as she heard them approach. “It is fitting that a storm should roll in today. The clouds have blocked the sun, the fog of war sweeps over the field, and the rain wets the fertile soil. Soon, thunder will roll and the lightning will strike, cleaving through the old foliage and burning what remains. And when that is done, we shall wash our hands clean of blood, and plant the seeds of the Network’s future. The earth understands how fortuitous today is for us all.” She turned with deliberate ease, revealing the massive scar on her neck. “Manticore, I trust your men will transfer these two and their gift without difficulty. Have them taken back to the Keep. Put her in confinement with our other guest, but do no more. Not a finger shall be laid upon her, do you understand? I will interrogate her personally, or you all shall take her place.”

The head guardsman grunted in acceptance. The other guards tightened their grips on their captives.

As Midnight began to approach, Twilight shut her eyes and turned away from the woman’s lurid gaze. Her eyelids clenched shut to a painful degree. In a last act of desperation, she began to chant under hushed tones, “This isn’t real. This is a dream. All a dream. It’s all just one bad nightmare. I just need to wake up. Wake up, wake up… wake up-“

The woman chuckled deviously. “Foolish child. I assure you that this is indeed real. But if you still believe this is such a dream, then it will be a nightmare you won’t soon wake from.” Midnight began to walk back inside, but stopped at the foot of the door, mulling through her statements once more. “Hmm, Nightmare,” she pondered aloud, “I rather like that.” Then she returned to the darkened manor, Manticore following close behind.

Against their will, Spike and Twilight began the march down the stone staircase. Waiting at the bottom was a pearl-black SUV. The four guards maintained their arrested grip on their captives. As the rain sunk into their clothes, the air around them grew colder. They crumbled with every step they took, their feet seeming to sink into the stone underfoot. The blackened chariot stood waiting for them. It was the long walk to the inevitable end.

The rain-slicked stone caused Twilight’s wobbling legs to lose their balance. Slipping through the fingers of one of the guards, her back fell against the jutting staircase. She shrieked in pain as her body splayed flat against the stone stairs. The downpour continued obliviously to her pain, seeping into her clothes and pelting her exposed face. Towering over her, the guards ordered her to stand. Twilight tried, but her legs once again failed. The black figures shouted again, but Spike shouted back to little avail. The girl tried to rise once more, but lost her footing and fell back. Pain shot through her once again, and her limp body sluggishly rolled downwards, dragged down by the weight of the case and her water-logged clothes. The clear pools of rainwater mixed with a red stream of blood. The guards shouted once more.

Spike had turned a furious red as he watched from the side. He tugged and tussled against his captors, shouting out his sister’s name, his longing voice a cocktail of pain and desperate anger. Hell itself seemed to boil in his belly and a surge of adrenaline coursed through his veins. He thrashed violently with unmatched energy and strength, slipping an arm free from the guard’s wet grasp. His elbow swung to the side, bashing the guard beside him with an audible crack, before punching the second guard in the groin. The other guards joined the fray, and Spike was raging for the fight. He let out the roar of a caged animal as he tossed several haymaker punches, connecting one and sending the guard stumbling backwards. One man attempted to restrain his arm from the side, but a vicious head-butt forced him to clutch his face in pain. Spike saw his opportunity, and lunged for the pistol in his holster. He drew the gun in a flash, but his aim was offset by the struggle that ensued. A couple errant shots were fired into the clouds as one guard managed to restrain the pistol. Spike attempted to fight him off, but the others soon joined in to subdue the frenzied boy. As the battle overwhelmed him, Spike shouted to her. “Twilight! Sarah!” he said, “You have to get up! Please, get up!”

Even dazed and battered, lying in the downpour on a puddle of rain and blood, far from the stable comforts of home, Twilight recognized that voice. She remembered that day. They were just children, a girl aged twelve and a boy aged six. However, the Institute saw things differently. When Twilight accepted the offer she could not afford to refuse, Cell demanded no distractions from her pupil. A kitchen timer was set: the siblings were given ten minutes to say goodbye. But when the time came, they held each other as tightly as they could. And as their clasped hands were separated, the young boy’s tear-reddened eyes and fearful wails were burned into Twilight’s memory. And as he cried for her, he used that voice.

Her hands were pale, wrinkled, and numb, but used them to push herself forward. Her legs still felt foreign to her, but they found the strength to stand. And while her mind was still reeling from the fall, she could still read the expression on his grave expression on his face. “Run,” it implored to her, “Run.”

Twilight had no choice. Clutching the heavy case in her hand, she turned her back and clambered down the stone staircase as Spike was finally subdued by the group of four guards. As their uniformed body overwhelmed him, beating him senseless in their violence, she had made it to the waiting SUV. Her hands struggled with the driver’s side door, but it refused to give: locked. The manor’s front door burst open with guards, spurred by the commotion outside, and Twilight once again took to her feet. She ran across the crescent-shaped courtyard as quickly as her shaking legs could take her. Passing the high stone walls and the iron gate, Twilight began her escape.

She didn’t have a choice but to cut through the forest. The openness of the winding road collapsed into narrow thickets of dead trees. The downpour was shielded by the twisted branches, but the dirt had become slick and edged with jagged rocks. The fog grew thicker and thicker as she went further and further, until the world beyond her reach was nothing more than a haze of grey. Her body was reinforced with a burst of adrenal energy, but quickly navigating the perilous trek was as physically demanding as much as it was mentally stressful.

As came upon a small stream of water flowing down the mountain, Twilight began to slow down. How long had she been running? She couldn’t fathom a guess, nor did it matter to her. Gasping for air, she hoped to take a rest before continuing on: her lungs burned under the strain and the rapid intake of frigid air; her legs were trembling uncontrollably from the cold, stress, and adrenaline; she struggled to keep her balance. But the series of heartless shouts in the distance behind her persuaded her otherwise. Following the stream, Twilight hoped to find a safe haven, a cave or a hollow she could hide away in. She fought to keep running.

Suddenly, her feet slip. Her misstep sends her falling forwards, careening down the slope of the mountain. Her body impacts on the fresh dirt, but continues it to pick up speed. She tries to shield herself, but she still remains vulnerable. Dead leaves crunch beneath her as dirt and mud flies into her face and wounds. Rocks scratch at her arms and clothes. Loose tree branches crash against her arms and legs. The nebulous forest rockets past her at a break-neck speed. After one last impact with the base of a tree, Twilight’s body strikes pavement as she tumbles helplessly onto a section of road.

A pair of lights gleam through the fog, and are approaching fast. Too fast to stop. The woman can’t move out of the way fast enough. She can’t move at all. As the rumbling engine drives closer and closer, Twilight curled her body tightly, shut her eyes, and hoped it will be over quickly.

The tires screech, and the car stops. Twilight opens her eyes, and fears for the worst. She tried to scramble to her feet as two imposing silhouettes exited the car.

“Hey,” the first woman called, “’t’s her.”

“She’s not looking so great, Jack.” The second woman’s voice cut like a rasp.

The first woman rushed over to the hurt girl, still lying limp in the middle of the fog-basked road. Her imposing grasp found Twilight’s right hand, unaware of the fresh cuts on her open palm. The woman’s bulky figure begins to pull Twilight to her feet. Rain drips from the brim of her hat. “Miss, can you hear me?” An unfamiliar Southern accent rang in her speech. “The name’s Applejack. We’re here to-“

The unknown woman aroused a sharp pain in Twilight’s hand, and Twilight answered in kind. As her feet met the ground, her left hand formed a tight fist. She let out a menacing shout, using her remaining strength to deliver a single powerful blow. It smashed the woman on the side of the head with a dull thud, knocking her back to the ground a few feet away. The hat flew a few feet further. Without a second thought, Twilight continued her escape.

“Dash,” Applejack cried out between groans, “git after her!”

“I’m on it!” the second woman replied before bolting into the woods.

Twilight could hear the chase catching up with her. Where the Umbra guards’ shouts felt distant in the fog, the woman’s calls were alarmingly close. The sound of gnashing leaves grew closer and closer behind her, followed by demands to stop and surrender.

“Hey! Come back here!” the voice shouted behind her, “If you keep running, you’ll only be tired when I catch you.”

Twilight ignored both cues. Even as her lungs burned, practically begging for mercy, she pushed herself further and faster into the woods. She had to escape. She had to-

“Gotcha!”

Twilight was tackled from behind, sending her face-first into the wet dirt. Mud seeped into her eyes, nose, and mouth as her face slid through the earthy soil. She turned onto her back, wiping her eyes as her pursuer climbed over her.

“Uh, ‘scure me?” the aggressor said.

With her legs straddling Twilight’s gut and her full weight pressing down, the thin woman fought to restrain her target. The worn out Twilight fought back with a few reactionary punches, but that only served to aggravate her.

“Ach- What the hey is your problem?” she shouted, deflecting the flailing arms of the girl beneath her, “Relax, we’re here to-”

Twilight grabbed a fistful of dirt and flung it towards the woman’s face. As the dark brown sludge dribbled down her multicolored hair, Dash’s eyes narrowed in anger.

“I said chill out!”

Her balled fist struck the terrified girl across the face. Twilight’s eyes shut and her body fell limp.

The woman sat back with a sigh of relief. “There. That’s more like it.”

The descent down the side of the mountain to the next switchback was task easily accomplished by Rainbow Dash. As a hunter well-accustomed to the snow-ridden mountains back home, hauling the unconscious girl across the wet, jagged terrain was as enjoyable as the thrill of their downhill race together. If she had the opportunity, she’d do it all over again. And blindfolded. But for now, she relished in her victory. With her rifle slung over one shoulder and her prize slung over the other, the athlete waited patiently as the familiar set of headlights shined through the fog and down the road. With a signaled flash from the flashlight on her vest, the orange truck pulled off the road and alongside her.

Applejack got out of the car to help open the rear door. As Dash placed Twilight delicately into the cabin, Applejack noticed how lifeless their guest was. “You knocked her out?” she said with an ounce of disbelief, “What the hey were you thinkin’, Dash?”

“Hey, she wasn’t cooperating, so I had to. Besides, I asked nicely first.”

“Yeah? And just what’d you say to get her all riled up?”

Dash had to think about that one. “Uh… ‘ ‘scuse me’?”

The blonde woman shook her head, shifting her hat ever so slightly to hide her disappointment. “Well, we’d best get going. Rarity should be done sweeping the site by now. I reckon she’d want to hear about this.”

Chapter 7: First Contact

Applejack still had that feeling. It never left her. It was the sort of itching dread that Winona must feel when she would bark wildly into the dead of night. It was a rattling in the bones, an echo in the head, and a noose in the gut. Wherever she went, something seemed wrong. And as she drove her truck through the torrential rain, she looked to the rainbow-haired woman beside her and then to the unconscious girl in the back seat. She knew she had walked into something she shouldn’t have. But she had no choice. This was their mission.

It wasn’t turning out to be much of a mission, either. She and her team were pulled from their leave for a mission that was of “great importance”. Yet despite such an emergency, the team was never briefed on what was to follow. In addition to being undermanned and underequipped, they were flying blind. All they had to go on was a hand-folded envelope, wax-sealed with a symbol of a blazing sun. The papers inside held little more than breadcrumbs, but apparently it was enough to get them into a heap of trouble.

A part of her wished that this was all an elaborate prank by the notorious prankster in the passenger’s seat. Any moment now, she had expected her friend to cry out, “gotcha!” to a guffaw of laughter. But by now, the joke had gone too far to be funny.

Applejack’s focus began to slip, and she wondered what her family was doing back home. It was a little after two in the afternoon, but it was dark enough to be midnight. Granny Smith would be napping in her rocker, the wooden creaks matching time with her snores. Big Mac would be sitting by the heat of the cast-iron heater in the living room, using his fancy mathematics to keep the farm in the black (a term the simple cowgirl never quite understood). And Applebloom would certainly be doing her chores and homework, just as her big sister had told her to before she left. But Applejack knew better; there was no telling what her little sister was getting into.

Supposed that they were similar in that way.

A distant rumble brought the rustic woman back to the present. The storm had worsened as they reached the base of the mountain. Rain battered the haze-covered road, making it slick with an ice-cold shower. The forest boxed them in like a canyon of dead woods and fresh mud. The wind tore entire branches from the trees, testing the mettle of the truck’s suspension as they plowed over them. Flashes of lightning would pierce the fog, but the booming thunder shook them most. Then, something else began shining through the storm. A stalwart flare lay on the side of the road, radiating amber light from its sizzling flame.

Her dogs were barking, and they were never wrong. Yet together, the team pressed on through the dark.

Applejack pulled the truck aside as the signal drew near, and a building came into sight. The sign on the rounded roof proudly announced it as, “Joe’s Diner”, yet it was clear that Joe and his company had checked out long ago. Paint peeled off the wooden slat walls, and their ends were splintered with age. The windows that were lucky enough to remain unbroken had been covered by boards that had been nailed in years ago. A sign in the window had faded into a relic of the past: the image of a dozen doughnuts, topped with sprinkles, propped beside a steaming mug of hot chocolate.

Despite its decrepit status, there was one sign of life inside the abandoned diner: a set of finely-manicured fingers flipped the sign in the window as their car came near; “Open for Business”, the sign now read. The orange truck parked beside a pearl-white Mercedes Benz that practically begged to be out of the rain. Applejack took a moment to embrace the warm cabin air one last time, letting it flow through her nostrils as the car’s engine settled down. The woman next to her did the same, tapping her fingers excitedly against the tops of her well-toned legs.

Applejack adjusted the hat on her head as she said, “Alright, Rainbow Dash. Let’s see what Rarity has for us and our guest here. You grab the medkit from the trunk. I’ll grab her.”

“I’m on it”, the passenger replied, her mouth creased in a confident smirk.

The two shared a nod. Their doors opened in unintentional unison, and the storm rushed to greet them. Striking without warning, the hard wind blew the icy rain against their exposed faces. The two teammates rushed to complete their respective tasks. The athlete moved to the bed of her truck, groaning as she shifted through the crates in the bed of the truck. The cowgirl held her hat as she opened the side door of the truck. Gentling lifting the unconscious girl, she carefully hefted her towards the diner.

Applejack took pity upon the young woman. Curled up in her arms, the girl was limp, weak, and unresponsive. Every inch of her pale skin was pockmarked by goosebumps, and every layer of clothing was drenched with water. Droplets of bright red blood wept from the wounds on her arms, streaked down her clammy skin, and trickled off her half-curled fingers. But as the rain showered down upon the both of them, Applejack could swear the girl was awake. For a single fleeting moment, she saw the girl’s eyelids flutter open- revealing a pair of brilliant violet eyes that stared into the ashen skies above- before shutting them once more, as if to reject it all as a bad dream. She couldn't help but sympathize.

The blonde woman burst into the diner, opening and closing the door with a kick that rattled the sign off the window. From the evident chill that greeted her, it was clear there was no heat or power in the entire building, probably never had been for years. The amount of light coming through the few remaining windows was barely sufficient: bright enough that she couldn’t justify the use of her flashlight, but dark enough to doubt her own vision. The only thing of she was certain of was the feminine figure standing behind the diner counter, clad in a combat jacket atop her chic designer clothing. The gems of her diamond necklace shimmered around her neck in the ambient darkness. Even if she hadn’t seen the woman, Applejack could have identified her by smell of the perfume alone: roses, lilacs, and not an ounce of practicality.

“Rarity,” she said, half-nodding to her friend, “Is this place secure?”

“Why, of course it is,” the woman answered, the lushness of her trans-Atlantic accent a marked contrast against the cowgirl’s southern drawl. “I doubt if anyone has been here in years.”

“Good. Clear me a space on that there counter.”

The fashionable woman nodded, the curls of her hair bouncing as she did so. She initially began moving the items with a decent amount of delicacy, swiftly picking up the ketchup bottles, dusting off the old menus, and meticulously placing them further down the counter. But as Applejack’s arms began to tire, so did her patience; she chose to skip the niceties. The cowgirl woman softly laid the girl’s body atop the diner counter to a chorus of crashing bottles, splattered mustard, and her teammate’s gasped protests.

But despite her friend’s brutish behavior, Rarity understood her urgency when she saw the counter slowly pool with warm, red liquid. Upon inspection, she found the series of cuts all over the unconscious girl’s body. Her honeyed voice shook with alarm. “My word, what on earth happened? She has all these cuts- some cleaving straight through her clothes.”

Applejack took the moment to quickly look over the wounds herself. Cuts and bruises barely registered as injuries to hardy woman, but the severity and frequency of both on such a frail-looking girl was enough to make her worry. She did her best to keep pressure on the laceration on her arm, pressing her soaking jacket against the open wound. “Can’t say. We found her like that on the road, ‘xact spot where we were told, too. She seemed tired, confused, maybe even lost. When we came up to get her like so, she just up and ran off. Dash was the one who fetched her like this, but she couldn’t have done all this damage even if she wanted to.”

“Then torture, perhaps?”

“Nah. Even torture would have been cleaner than this. I saw her, she was runnin’-”

“Running? Running from what?”

“From me, that’s what!” Rainbow Dash strode confidently into the room. She shook her rainbow-colored hair like a shaggy dog, much to Rarity’s chagrin.

Even as she was struck by second-hand rain, Applejack remained focused with the girl’s wounds. “Dash, make yourself useful and grab us a roll of bandages from the medkit.”

“Sorry, no can do. I checked the whole trunk, but it’s not there. Just a note from your little sis, something about a school presentation a week ago.”

The woman cursed her sister under her breath, but she didn’t completely mean it. In her head, she began targeting the true culprits. She cursed the mission that brought them here. She cursed the circumstance that forced them to drive their personal cars. She cursed the people who had done this to the girl. Then she even cursed the girl, as if to be safe from bias. But most of all, she cursed herself for neglecting something so simple.

“Here,” Rarity chimed in. The slender woman shed herself of her jacket to reveal a silk-white dress shirt, trim-fitted and custom tailored to suit her luxurious feminine form. Her slender fingers grasping below the seams at the shoulder, she turned her shirt from sleeved to sleeveless with a series of powerful tears. The silk dyed a deep crimson as Rarity applied the makeshift bandages to the most drastic wounds. As she began to tie the bandages down, a part of her wretched at the thought of such fine fabric going to ruin. Stains like those would never come out.

Applejack approved of her friend’s ingenuity. “Good thinkin’, but that’s a delaying tactic at best.” She turned to her other teammate. “Why don’t you start lookin’ around this place for medical supplies- medkit, alcohol, rags, anything we can use. The owners may have abandoned this place, but here’s hoping they left something behind.”

Dash nodded, giving a little salute as she did so. “You got it, sarge,” she half-sarcastically said. Applejack eyed her friend hard she bolted through the swinging kitchen doors.

Rarity had done all she could with how few bandages they had, tying the fabric taut with a tug. It was all they could do now. Wiping her hands free of red, she looked over the looked over to woman standing beside her. She spoke in a whisper as if she were afraid of insulting her patient. “I don’t mean to insult your inquisitive abilities, dear, but just how confident are you that she is… well… her?”

The question weighed on Applejack’s chest. Reaching inside the chest pocket of her combat jacket, she pulled out a postcard-sized envelope. The hand-folded paper felt crisp and new when she found it earlier that day, basking in morning sunlight at the top of the stairs; now it was wrinkled, folded, and slightly damp with rain. The golden wax seal had been broken, and the two items inside almost toppled out on their own.

The first was a square of paper, approximately the size of a notecard. The note felt old enough to have been part of a scroll. Its edges were frayed and the color had turned coffee-stain brown, but the fine parchment held itself together. A line of bold numbers was written on its surface, standing tall and curved as if hand-written by a quill. The ink had begun to bleed through the page, and the figures seemed to weep with night-black tears. It had taken the team some time to decipher its message, but they soon understood what the numbers meant: a set of coordinates and an appointed time. The card had served its purpose already, and it was shuffled back inside the envelope

The second paper was the item in question. It was evidently a school portrait, taken less than a year ago. Applejack pulled a flashlight from a pouch on her vest, and used its light to compare the photograph to the girl in front of her. The likeness was spot-on: the narrow shape of the nose, the soft curves of her mouth, the pink stripe in her hair, the uniform she wore. Yet there were sobering inconsistencies as well. A series of thin cuts marred the girl’s face and lips. Her hair was clumped with mud and tangled by duress, and the pink-dyed streak was hidden beneath a bramble of natural black. From the pleasant smile in the photograph, she was happy back then; now she was cold, hurt, and far from home. All that Applejack needed to see- perhaps wanted to see- was the vibrant color of her sparkling eyes.

She shared the picture with her teammate. “It’s her. I’m sure it’s her.”

Rarity’s scanned the picture and the person in question. Her discerning eyes, razor sharp from finding loose threads and stray stitches, flickered as they identified every detail. After her own comparison was made, the woman concurred with her friend’s assessment. “Alright then. Have we any idea what we are to do with her?”

Applejack groaned as she tucked the items back into her pocket. After removing her leather Stetson hat, running her fingers through her blonde hair brought an ounce of comfort upon her frustrated head. “Your guess is as good as mine. I hate to admit it, but we’re in the dark on this one.” Unable to say any more, she was quick to change the subject. “Did you find anything at the first site?”

“Not much more than what you both saw,” Rarity answered, “From the shell casings and blood, it’s obvious that a gunfight of some sort occurred. Though, the lack of bodies tells me that someone must have cleaned up the mess and hoped the storm would do the rest. But the cleaning crew must have been rushed- or sloppy, because I found something peculiar.” She motioned to an item on the far end of the counter. A tablet computer lied idly on the other end of the table.

“I reckon this’ll be helpful. Did you get anything off of it?”

“Unfortunately not. I’m not sure if it will even turn on.”

“What’s wrong?” the blonde woman replied sarcastically, “Can’t find the ‘On’ switch?”

“If I couldn’t turn it on, it’s certainly not from lack of trying. Besides weathering the storm this entire time, I’m quite simply sure that it simply doesn’t have such a switch.”

“Well, our friend here could probably tell us once she’s awake… assuming she does wake.”

“She’ll be fine. I’ve slowed the bleeding on the worst of her wounds. I think it unlikely that she’ll bleed out so soon. But, given our current medical predicament, I fear she’ll succumb to infection or hypothermia before blood loss.”

Neither possibility sounded appealing to the rustic woman. But before she could voice her displeasure, a massive crash of weight on metal caught her attention. Both women turned towards the kitchen, past the swinging doors their friend had disappeared through a while ago.

Applejack called out. “Dash, what in tarnation are you doing back there?”

She expected to hear her friend’s typical reply, a facetious answer dripping in sarcasm that was as rough as the woman herself. Several seconds passed, and no such reply came. Something was wrong.

Applejack tried one more time, shouting a little louder than was needed. “Dash! Have you found anything back there?”

Her heart beat stronger with every passing second of silence. Rarity nudged her head towards the door. The both of them stepped lightly towards it, their fingers glancing the grip of their respective pistols. Applejack took her flashlight and shined it through the circular window in the center of the door. With every cautious step they took, the ring of light would shudder with dread. Darkened lines exaggerated the door’s imperfect surface, and the shadows that ran across the walls grew larger as the light drew nearer. By the time they were both within reach, not a peep had been uttered from the other side.

The blonde woman mustered up the courage to reach out her hand. The tips of her fingers touched the cold metal plate on the door. She gave one last warning before she began to push, “Rainbow. Are you there?”

The door emitted a slow groan as it was pushed, followed by a sudden screech as it burst open backwards. Something charged through the entryway, slamming the wooden fixture flatly against Applejack’s face. The force of the impact paired with the shock of the surprise sent her falling backwards to the floor. Rarity’s nerves jolted as she saw it occur. Her reaction was to reach into her holster, but she was stunned when another bright light began to scorch her irises. She came face to face with a blinding light, connected to a pistol aimed squarely at her head.

Two male figures stood in front of them, their booming voices filling the air as they shouted over each other. “Hands up!” one would say. “Put your damn hands up!” the other would add. “Don’t do anything stupid.” “We will fire if you do not submit.”

Applejack reeled on the dust-ridden ground, her head throbbing with its second impact with the ground on that day alone; her hat never provided much protection from anything other than the weather. The tac-light on each of the men’s’ pistols forced her to shield her eyes from the blinding beam, a move which the men equated with surrendering. In between the shouts, Rainbow Dash’s raspy voice hurled insults like bullets to her captors. As loudly as the men barked, Rarity only gave into their demands when she saw her friend raise her hands first.

As luck would have it, Applejack’s flashlight landed on the counter at that moment. Bouncing end to end on the dusty table, the light illuminated the hostile men. For the few crucial moments, she could see them clearly. Two men, well-built. One younger, one older. Nobel-grey suit jacket and an ivory-white under-shirt. Both were drenched in rain, caked in dirt, and smelled like the storm from outside. Visible cuts on both their bodies- the older one more so than the younger- but they were in better condition than the girl on the table. The older one held Rainbow Dash captive, tightening his burly arm around her neck; despite the disadvantage, Dash kicked and hollered like the stubborn mule she was. The flashlight then rolled off the table and into the lap of its owner, returning the hostile men to the veil of darkness.

The older man sensed victory as both women raised their hands. Holding his human shield in one hand, he held his pistol in the other. Keeping the beam of the tac-light squarely in her eyes, he forcibly shouted, “Why did your unit attack us?”

Rarity was taken aback by the question. Struggling to maintain her ladylike composure, she stifled out a response. “I… I beg your pardon?”

The man repeated the question with the same forceful intent. “Why did your unit attack us? What is your objective?”

The woman’s azure eyes were wide with shock despite the bombardment of light on her retinas. She struggled to gesture her confusion while keeping her arms raised. “I’m… I’m dreadfully sorry, but I don’t know understand what you speak of. We haven’t attacked anyone-“

Rainbow Dash was quick to add, “But we’ll kick your sorry asses to the curb if you even think about-“

“Captain,” the younger guard interrupted. He kept his flashlight squarely on Applejack, his aim steady despite his excited nerves. “This one’s got gear on her. Vest, holster, radio- maybe more in the cars we saw too. But she doesn’t look like the unit that attacked us, either.”

“How certain are you of that, Armor?”

“Very, sir. Here, see for yourself.” The younger guardsman took an imposing step closer towards Applejack. His pistol still trained on her, he motioned for her to get up.

Applejack could feel her heart racing in her throat as she complied with the order. Slowly took to her feet, she clasped her hands on top of her hat. She felt naked as the heated gaze of the young man’s tac-lights shined over her.

The older man was content with his subordinate’s appraisal, but he wasn’t done with them yet. Keeping his gun trained on Rarity, he turned his head towards the combat-clad woman. “You. What is your unit?”

“Jack, don’t tell them a damn-“ Dash’s warning was cut off by the tightening arm around her throat. The stifled gurgling that bubbled from her friend’s throat made Applejack’s throat clench with fear. The man barked his question once again. Amid Rarity’s whispered warnings to stay silent, the blonde woman did what she felt was necessary.

“MANE 3,” she admitted to the confident tune of absolute certainty. Both of her teammates silently cursed the woman’s irrevocable honesty.

The gruff man eyed her suspiciously. “I’ve never heard of such a unit.”

She shrugged with a sly little grin. “Then I guess that’s a good thing.”

The captain motioned to his partner towards her. The younger man cautiously approached, snaking his free hand into her holster and freeing the pistol inside. An M1911A1 hung in his hands before being tossed aside, a move that earned him a disapproving glare from its owner. As the man searched her for weapons, the older man continued with the questions. “How many people are in your unit?”

“Just us three.” Applejack thumbed to her cohorts, her hands still raised. “That’s Rarity over there. The feisty one in your arms is Rainbow Dash. And then there’s me.”

“Who do you work for?”

Rarity cut in before her friend admitted anything further. She took a step forward, a move that earned a threatening shake of the man’s pistol. “No one,” she answered sweetly. Her words were annunciated delicately, tuned with practice to sound perfectly innocent. “We don’t work for anyone,” she lied again.

The younger guard muttered the term “mercenaries” with the same voice he’d use to describe a rash or infestation. Despite such a negative reaction, Rarity hid her satisfaction for the successful deception.

The older man continued, “Then why are you here?”

“Why…” Rarity’s thoughts mulled over for a fitting lie. ”We’re here for-“

“Rescue mission.” Applejack’s curt bluntness caught both guards’ attention. Both Rarity and Rainbow Dash groaned, as the ploy seemed to have been working.

“And what is your target?”

A silence stirred between both groups. Applejack’s tongue receded into her throat, perhaps a few sentences too late. She felt her friends staring at her in anticipation. Rarity, still wide eyed and breathing stable, shook her head ever so slightly. Rainbow Dash’s restrained movements were jerky and erratic, but she shook her head as well. The consensus was obvious, but Applejack couldn’t agree. As if God had opened her mind and swept away the suspicions and fear, the alarm in her head had utterly ceased. Something compelled her to trust the men behind the guns. She couldn’t deny how she felt. Perhaps that’s why she confessed what she did. Perhaps she put her faith in fate one more time.

Applejack’s left hand slowly moved from her head. As the storm rumbled beyond the decrepit walls around them, she pointed to the counter at the center of the room. “Her.”

The young man stood up to investigate while the captain balanced his aim between Applejack and Rarity. Bringing his flashlight over the table, what the young man saw made the disciplined guardsman gasp. “Captain Light!” he yelled anxiously, “It’s Twilight, sir.”

“What?” The whites of the older man’s eyes could be seen expanding in the dark. He saw the figure of the young girl there, lying motionless like a corpse on a funeral slab. His gut wretched to his boots as the reality sank in. “Oh sweet Cell-“

The man stood beside the unconscious girl, scanning her body with his tac-light. His shaking fingers pressed against her jugular artery, checking for a pulse. “Pulse is weak, sir. She’s alive, but unconscious. She might be wounded- I’m seeing some blood-”

The surrealism of the moment washed away. Alarmed, Captain Light immediately asserted control of the situation. “Knight Armor,” he ordered, “get these people away from her.”

Shining Armor shook Twilight’s shoulders as softly as his adrenaline-filled veins would allow him. “Twilight?” he said, standing over her empty face, “Twilight, wake up!”

Rarity was captivated by the turn of events, and was left stunned in her shoes despite the older man’s orders to move away.

“Move!” he ordered once more. Light pulled the hammer of his HK45 back with his thumb, the sights of the pistol aimed squarely between the woman’s eyes. The menacing man spoke in little more than a threatening growl. “Even if you’re as innocent as you claim to be- I will not hesitate to kill you. Now get away from her.”

Rarity thoughtlessly complied, quickly shuffling from behind the counter to Applejack’s side. Captain Light’s vindictive expression never wavered, and neither did his aim.

The younger guardsman cradled the girl’s head in his arms. Her ghostly-pale skin felt cold to the touch. “Twilight? Come on, wake up!”

“Armor, pick her up. We’re not leaving without her.” The older man kept aim on the two women while maintaining his hold on the stubborn athlete. Despite Rainbow Dash’s physical protests, Captain Light made his way towards Twilight’s side, opposite the counter. He turned his head as Shining Armor’s tac-light shined over her wounds, some still weeping red. Anger and sickness welled within him. “What did they do to you?”

Over the commotion, Rarity proclaimed her innocence, “We didn’t do anything!”

“She was injured when she came to us,” Applejack added, “This ain’t our fau-“

The captain’s gun went off, the gunshot ringing high in everyone’s ears. Both women flinched as the round embedded itself into the wall behind them. “That’s enough out of you two!” the man said, his mind scorching with desperation.

As the kinetic force of the recoil rippled through the man’s body, Rainbow Dash felt a moment of weakness in the arm around her throat. It was her opportunity, and she took it. In a flash, she heaved her body weight forward and then forced it all backwards. The momentum of her head smacked into the captain’s jaw. Caught offguard by the sudden blow, the man loosened his grip, allowing the skinny woman to slip away. Grappling the pistol in her left hand and punching his arm with her right, Rainbow Dash threw him off balance. And with one final move, she twisted the pistol out of his grip and into her own.

The younger guardsman turned to respond, but he found himself pummeled by Applejack’s large frame. She knocked him to the floor, leaving him on his back as she dove over him. The faint form of her pistol lay on the floor a few feet away from her, and she scrambled to reach it. But as Armor saw her intentions, he reached out to grab onto whatever would take. His grip found a loop on her vest. Applejack could barely reach the grip of her gun before being pulled back by her opponent. The man tried to bring his pistol to bear, but the woman wrestled to hold his hand down. The two snarled like savage dogs as they fought for control of the gun, glaring into the ferocity of their opponent’s eyes. As the struggle dragged on, it became clear that neither side was willing to back down. Shining Armor broke the stalemate, pulling his fist back and delivering a solid left hook. The blow to the jaw knocked the cowgirl back momentarily, but she returned the punch in kind. As Shining Armor reeled from the punch, Applejack then dove for her pistol once more, grabbing its form and quickly aiming it downrange. The knight reacted just as quickly, rolling onto his gun and lining up the sights.

The guardsman’s finger was firm against the trigger. The glowing dots on his pistol’s tritium sights were lined up against the woman’s form, and at such a short distance he couldn’t miss. Despite also having him in her sights, Applejack seized when the moment came. Part of her braced for the bullet; another part told her to pull the trigger and be done with it. But another part said to wait a moment. Something wasn’t right. And after a long second passed without the act of gunfire, she realized which part of her was correct.

Shining Armor slowly let the trigger reset as he drew his finger out of the trigger-guard. Obeying the metallic nudge at the back of his head, he slowly raised his hands.

Rarity’s slender fingers wrapped contently around her the grip of her revolver. She prodded him once more with the front of her gun, the front sight combing through his short hair. “Good boy. You’ve made a wise choice,” she said, drawing circles on the man’s scalp with the barrel of her gun, “One gun against three are not odds in your favor.”

A sigh of relief escaped Applejack’s lips. As she got to her feet, she brushed herself off and searched for the others. Rainbow Dash had turned the tables on her captor, and was holding the surrendering captain at gunpoint. Rarity disarmed the younger man, tossing his gun onto the counter before patting him down. Applejack pressed her wrist gingerly against her sore jaw; the young man would probably do the same thing, had he a free hand to do so.

Even with his head hung low, Shining Armor could feel the blonde woman approaching, the heavy sound of her footsteps following in her wake. He stared at the tan-colored boots as they stopped in front of him. As his gaze dragged upwards, his vision fixed on her pistol. The blued carbon steel of the Colt pistol shimmered in the ambient light like the anticipating fang of an angry wolf. And she stayed there, a blackened specter standing over him, weapon in hand.

When he saw the pistol move, his racing heart skipped a beat and then several more. His eyelids snapped shut like traps. He grit his teeth. And he waited for the deafening bang. Then moment of pain. And the final end of all things. Time itself seemed to slow as Shining Armor steeled himself for what he was sure to come.

It came as a surprise to him, then, when none of that came.

Applejack’s southern drawl had fallen deep and serious. Despite talking directly to the kneeling guardsman in front of her, she spoke loud enough for his superior to hear. “Now, I don’t know who y’all are or who you work for-, nor why you’re even here. But from where I’m standing, I don’t think it matters. I don’t need any more friends than I already have, but neither of us needs any more enemies.” She holstered her pistol. The tension in the room began to evaporate.

The familiar sound of metal on fabric drew Shining Armor’s attention. Opening his shuddering eyes, he was met with an outstretched hand. Applejack offered to get him to his feet. The young Knight hesitantly accepted her offer. “Fair enough,” he said as he regained his footing.

A satisfied grin crept onto the woman’s lips as she replied, “Good. I reckon that we’re all here for the same reason, anyways.” However, as she turned towards the unconscious Twilight, her expression turned thoughtful. “All things aside, we answered all of your questions. Maybe you can start by answering some of ours.”

Author's Note

Days since last chapter: 101 days.
Published words VS development duration in days: 54.6237*

Reviews and revisions of current chapter version before publication: 3

Number of plot alterations made during chapter development: 3
Number of chapter rewrites for this chapter alone: 2
Total words written (approximated using the text on my Cutting Room Floor notes and wordcounter.net): 13736 at 308 paragraphs.
Actually written words VS development duration in days: 136 (on the dot)

Ratio of written words to published words: 2.4897

Tropes encountered: 4
Feeling very sorry for: the wait and delays.
Openly appreciates: audience patience and support.
Currently working on: Chapter 8.

See you all in another 3 months!

Chapter 8: MANE 3

Twilight awoke to the sound of the storm. To her still-ringing ears, it was impossible to tell whether the pattering she heard was raindrops on a nearby window or a haze of auditory static. She was in no shape to investigate. Her body felt frozen, yet she couldn’t stop shivering. Her eyes were stiff as they shuddered open, soaking in muted sunlight as a luminescent glow.

As disoriented as she was, the girl could feel someone’s arms cradling her head and back. She could feel the man’s heartbeat pulsing through his veins as he gently rocked from side to side. A jacket had been draped over her body, its stiff fabric warm and comforting. Twilight looked up towards the ceiling. A familiar face was watching over her.

“Twilight?” the man whispered. His naturally-firm voice had softened in tone. He freed his hand to brush her hair back behind her ear, his rugged skin brushing against hers. “Can you hear me?”

Another pained groan was interrupted by a series of coughs, but she recognized that voice. It felt like ages since she had last heard it. Twilight reached her out her hand towards the man’s face, her eyes half-lidded and her vision still blurred. “Spike?” her weak voice called, “Spike, is that you? How did you find me?”

Despite his relief and confusion, the older man’s face remained as stiff as a statue. “No, Twilight. It’s me-.“ His words stopped mid-sentence. After a moment of decision, he flatly said, “It’s me.”

The girl rubbed the weariness from her eyes. Instead of the bright emerald spheres she had hoped for, two hazel eyes glimmered faintly back to her from the darkness. She barely knew him beyond his name and role, but his aged, angled face always struck her as familiar. “Captain Light?” she realized, and she began to regret her mistake. “I’m… sorry. I thought you were someone else for a minute. Still… I’m glad to see a friendly face.”

‘Friendly’ may not have been the right word given the man’s permanently stern disposition. As Twilight began to sit up, fabric of her clothes began to scratch at the freshly-sealed scars. Pain shot through her arms, and Twilight barely managed to stifle her own screams. Captain Light held her tight to his chest, shushing as he did so. “Shhh, careful. Don’t try to move. You have a number of lacerations and cuts on your body. Some of them have scarred, but you will need medical attention as soon as we can find it.”

Twilight took in her surroundings to distract herself from the dulling pain. The room was too dark to see entirely, but there wasn’t much to be seen. It was cold, dirty, and unwelcoming, a far cry from her cozy quarters in the Royal Palace. Sitting at a booth in some abandoned building only made her yearn for her downy bed and abundant bookshelf even more.

As if to make her feel more at home, a young guardsman made his way to the captain’s side. The black-haired man kneeled beside the two with something in his hand, a plastic tube filled with liquid. The sound of snapping plastic accompanied a bursting white glow from between his fingers, revealing the streaks of cobalt hair and the relieved man’s grin. After years of standing guard outside her door, Shining Armor’s face was unmistakable to Twilight, but seeing him smile was a pleasant surprise. “Hey, I’m glad to see you’re awake. How do you feel?”

Needle-like stings encompassed every inch of her skin. Her head still reeling, Twilight shut her eyes as her agony began to subside. “It hurts… everywhere.”

“Just take it easy. You’re with us now, so just try to relax.”

The captain’s voice returned to its authentic tone, “We’re working to get you out of here, don’t worry. But you’ll have to hold on a little longer.”

“Hear the chaos outside?” Shining Armor paused. The torrent of rain and a well-timed lightning strike were impossible to ignore. “That storm’s throwing around an abnormal amount of electrical inference. It’s knocked out our GPS, and our mobile comms can’t even find a signal. The electronic escort vehicle was supposed to prevent anything like that, but after the ambush…” The warmth from his face drained as he began to remember. Before he could go any further, he retreated from the topic. “…truth be told, I don’t know how Captain Light and I got out of that in one piece. Maybe we were just lucky.”

As shattered as her memory was, some of the broken pieces began to fit back together like an incomplete jigsaw puzzle. The convoy. The ambush. The sun-blocked clouds. The thunder rolls, the lighting strikes. And the image of a woman, her pitch-black shadow spread jagged across the floor. Twilight cringed at the thought of the woman’s face, but she couldn’t remember why.

Shining Armor continued, “We came back to look for any other survivors, but there was no one left. They were most likely captured, or worse. We were about to pull out when we found you. Guess that makes you lucky too. I’m glad Sledge managed to keep you safe.”

The late guardsman’s name made Twilight recall his agony. He had been writhing on the ground, blood weeping from his wounds and into the cracks of the concrete road. “Get home safely,” they had whispered in somber unison. She could still see his broken body in the rear view mirror of the SUV as they made their escape. “Condition Sundown… Condition Sundown.”

Twilight hung her head, the iron-rich scent of blood wafting through her nose. Her throat felt numb as she delivered the news. “Sledge... he wasn’t so lucky, though.”

The news had been expected, but difficult nonetheless. The guardsmen understood. Together, the three of them hung their heads in mourning. Each of them crafted a final message to their fallen comrade in the quiet that followed. Their words would never find voice, but they were far from speechless. In silent prayer, they respected Sledge’s passing and honored his memory, before saying a final goodbye. Perhaps, somewhere beyond the physical realm, Sledge would hear their messages, and he will know that his life was well lived. For the followers of the Illuminatus, this was their time-honored tradition, one final farewell to the dearly departed. Someday, they will be mourned for as well.

Captain Light was the last to finish his prayer, but he was also the first to speak. After letting out a wistful sigh, his hushed words meshed with the reverent quiet. “Over the many years we served together, Sledge proved himself to be one of the most dependable guardsmen I had the honor of calling a friend. He had always devoted himself towards upholding the creeds of the Guard to the letter, and his dedication was absolute. Sledge had personally volunteered for the mission, and for that task of being your escort.” He laid a reassuring hand on the girl’s shoulder. “He died doing his duty, just as every guardsman should expect. And considering that you, Twilight, are still breathing… his sacrifice was not in vain.”

Twilight’s head hung a little lower; as Sledge had requested, she refused to let herself cry. Her thoughts soon turned to another man who had sacrificed himself. He was no soldier; he was just a boy. He didn’t deserve this. The way his voice cracked as he cried out to her. The fear in his emerald eyes as he begged her to run. “Run,” she thought to herself, “run from what?” The answer lied in the black, broken void in her memories.

The thoughts alone implored her to move, despite her body’s aching protests. Using Light’s shoulder as a crutch, she pulled herself upright. The darkness was close enough to suffocate on; beyond the glowstick’s sphere of light, there was only a veil of black. “Where are we?” she asked, “How in the heck did you find me? And how’d we get… here?”

The voice that answered came from the shadows. The southern drawl echoed ominously like a crash of thunder. “Well now, the answer to that’s really quite simple…”

Twilight’s heart froze as a sudden snap burned back the darkness. A soft white glow pierced through the shadows. An elegant set of fingers held the glowstick overhead, casting a spotlight down upon the three figures standing there. Their features hidden by their own shadows, the mysterious women revealed themselves one by one.

“Those two didn’t find you,” the woman continued as she stepped into the light, “We did.”

A terror fell upon Twilight, who recoiled against Captain Light in shock. Her eyes raced to take in the woman’s unexpected appearance. She stuttered out the question, “W-w-who are you?”

The large-framed woman removed her leather hat and introduced politely herself. “Howdy-doo, Miss Twilight. Glad to finally meet you. “ As she offered a sun-tanned hand to shake, her leaf-green eyes shimmered under the white light. She was clearly comfortable in her orange-plaid shirt, well-worn jeans, and her favorite pair of boots, but the pistol holstered on her thigh made Twilight uncomfortable.

As their meeting hands shook, the cowgirl nodded politely, her blonde ponytail swaying like a rope on the back of her military jacket. “The name’s Applejack.” That certainly wasn’t her real name.

“Applejack is a part of a team called MANE 3,” Captain Light answered. “Sometime after the attack, they found you on the road- injured- and they brought you here. They aren’t one of us, but they are here to help.”

“Or so they claim.” There was a palpable suspicion in Armor’s words.

A raspy voice replied in protest, “Hey! We don’t call her Honesty for nothin’. She said that’s what happened, and that’s exactly what happened.”

As the woman stepped into the light, Twilight was captivated by her remarkable appearance. The brash woman’s hair boasted a literal rainbow of colors upon the short, disheveled strands. Her body was tall and lean, but by no means weak. The cotton tank-top and running shorts suggested she was an athlete at heart, but the holster on her belt proved she prefers running with wolves. She wore the same military jacket as her peer, unbuttoned and trimmed to suit her slim figure.

Standing beside her friend, she crossed her arms and looked down at Twilight, daring her to try something stupid. “By the way, the name’s Rainbow Dash. Be sure to remember that the next time I have to catch you.”

The third woman stepped in to oppose such hostility, her honeyed voice marked by a peculiar Trans-Atlantic accent. “Rainbow, darling, there’s no need for such rudeness. No one doubts your abilities, but we needn’t brandish them either. We are all friends here.”

While Applejack’s and Rainbow Dash’s appearances marked them as soldiers, the last woman’s appearance marked her as something infinitely more refined. Her cream-colored complexion was complimentary to her now-sleeveless blouse, and her silken dress pants were painstakingly handmade to hug her luscious waist. And to top off the day’s ensemble, a beautifully ornate diamond necklace adorned her swan-like neck, the shine of the gems only surpassed by those of her deep-cerulean eyes. With her flawless skin, lush violet curls, and voluptuous curves, she could have just walked off the cover of a posh magazine. But the military jacket draped around her arm that proved she was more than just a pretty face.

The woman bowed slightly as she introduced herself. “I am Rarity. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Twilight.” With her right hand preoccupied with the glowstick, the woman offered her left hand. As the two shook hands, Rarity’s discerning eyes noticed something affixed to Twilight’s left wrist. “That’s a most interesting bracelet you have there, dear.”

Rarity’s comment went unnoticed as her brash friend cut in. “So now that she’s awake and we’ve all said hi, does the suit and tie brigade care to tell us what the heck is going on?”

The athlete’s comment was purely sarcastic, but Armor took it as an insult. “We don’t answer to you,” he replied indignantly, “And even if we did, why should we trust you, or any of you?”

Now it was Dash’s turn to be insulted. “We did just weather this storm to save your little friend. I’d expect a little cooperation, or at least a ‘thank you’.” She crossed her arms and grinned as she primed her next remark. “If this is how you boys repay your favors, no wonder you have so many enemies.”

Shining Armor’s professionalism began to dissolve as his temper began to rise. The veins in his temples bulged and his face flushed a bright red. Struggling to keep calm behind the gnashing teeth, he refused to be insulted by someone of Rainbow Dash’s stature. She was an outsider, undisciplined, uneducated, and dishonorable. How could someone so lowly even consider saying such a thing? How dare she degrade a guardsman’s sacrifice. To disrespect the noble dead who had yet to be buried? Disgusting. Sledge had been right all along: they were the last bastion of decency in a world gone mad.

Before the dogs could put their bared fangs to use, their handlers pulled back their chains.

Light commanded his subordinate with the vocal firmness of a proper Captain. “Stand down, Knight Armor. If you start that fight, you’re no better than her.”

Applejack applied the necessary hands-on approach, holding her friend back before she could dive at her target and pummel him as hard as her skinny arms would allow. “Dangit Rainbow, keep your danged head about yah. I ain’t looking for a fight nearly as hard as you are, but if you cross that line, I will make you regret it. I don’t want to lose any more friends, and we don’t need any more enemies. So buck up and stand down.”

The two of them scuffled in protest, neither side willing to give up so easily. But after glaring at the other intently for an excruciating moment, both sides eased their tempers. Captain Light acknowledged that Armor was doing so out of training and discipline; Applejack knew Rainbow Dash was trying to beat her opponent in a race to be the bigger person. In the end, the guardsman and the athlete shrugged off the altercation with a forced sense of indifference before returning to their corners.

After the dust settled, both leaders were able to breathe a little easier. Apologies were not necessary, but neither side was willing to admit defeat. This fight was water under the bridge, but the next one may be the breaking point. Light and Applejack dismissed their subordinates. Each group separated from the other, leaving the team leaders alone in the center of the room. Huddled over the diner counter, the two were eager to discuss their current situation. They both held same goal in mind: find their way home.

Shining Armor stood guard over Twilight as she sat down in a booth. The two of them had tucked themselves away in the corner of the diner, separate from the others. As fragmented as her memories may have been, Twilight had recovered enough to piece together a tapestry of the events, leading from the ambush to the manor to the present day. She started telling her story to the attentive guardsman, fearful that her memory could betray her at any moment.

Twilight spared no detail on the few she could remember. The ambush. Sledge. The foreboding serenity of the Selenic Manor. Manticore. The reflecting pool of tears. Midnight. The night that would last forever. Nightmare. Her failure. Spike. And the escape down the mountain.

When there was nothing left to tell, the two sat in silence brooding over the facts. It was impossible to tell what the young man was thinking just by looking at him. “The Umbra betrayed us,” was all he said. Shining Armor repeated those words a few more times, each utterance sounding more disbelieving than before. “I guess Captain Light was right, then,” he eventually said. “They resented us enough to rebel sixteen years ago, and here we are again. I thought they learned their lesson when they lost the war… unless they have something we don’t know of yet. Otherwise, why else would they do this again?” He lowered his head, shaking the last ounces of disbelief from his mind. “As much as I hate to say it, the Umbra always have been too cunning for our own good.”

Twilight said nothing as Shining Armor racked his brain with questions. As the rain beat down on the window beside her, she tugged at the lapels of Light’s jacket. The cloth wrapped tightly around her shoulders when something brushed against her wrist. She looked down. It was half of a handcuff, Kevlar-lined and severed at the cord. More importantly, the student remembered what it had been attached to.

“Cell told me something before we left,” the student uttered to herself, her hand brushing over the Kevlar material. “‘You must keep it out of the wrong hands. You now hold the most powerful element in your hand… never let go of it.’”

“That black case that Cell gave you,” Armor correctly assumed.

“Nightmare called it Project Harmony. She talked about it like a weapon, something she’d use to overpower Cell and conquer the Network, perhaps even the world. It was a weapon, something that Cell trusted me with.” Twilight stared at the severed cord, which seemed to long for its other half. She bit her lip, but the confession felt no less painful. “She trusted me... and I lost it. I failed her. I failed. I failed. I failed-“

Shining couldn’t bear to hear the girl beat herself up. “Hey, hey, cut that out. You might have lost that case, but you didn’t exactly have a choice in the matter. You’re not a failure, and we haven’t lost yet. We still have a chance to make things right.”

“What chance do we have?” Twilight’s question was rhetorical, but a part of her still begged for an answer. “I put the gun in Nightmare’s hands, and she’s aiming it squarely at us. We can’t run, we can’t fight, we don’t have a chance.”

Shining Armor understood the cynicism, but surrender was never an option for him. The very implication coming from Twilight’s mouth upset him. His chest swelled with breath as he channeled his Royal Guard mentality into a convincing argument. “She might have the gun, but we won’t give her a chance to fire it. Once we’re able to reach someone at the Institute, we can mobilize the rest of the Guard. We’ll counter-attack before Nightmare even has a chance to use it. So long as we’re all still alive, we still have a chance at stopping her.” Shining Armor’s reassurances were earnest, but Twilight didn’t feel she deserved such hope; she was a failure.

A flash of lightning caught the duo’s attention as the burst of light lit up the room. Huddled over the diner’s central counter, Captain Light and Applejack discussed their situation. Both of their expressions were intense with contemplation, but their words being too quiet to hear. A part of Twilight was glad for the distraction, but she was no less apprehensive. “Those three… do you think they work for Nightmare?”

The guardsman’s posture straightened as he caught the rainbow-haired woman staring at him from across the room. His eyes narrowed menacingly to return her suspicious gaze. “I wouldn’t rule it out. But I don’t think it’s a coincidence that those three outsiders just happened to be all the way out here. With you unconscious, no less.”

The student began to gingerly rub her wounds to ease their stings. As she did so, her fingers ran over the silk bandages, bloodstained but still soft. “Do you think we can trust them?”

The question wasn’t an easy one to answer. He had his doubts. Shining Armor only knew that the others would be dealt with, sooner or later. “The captain and I will worry about them. For now, you just remember the rules that Sledge told you.”

Say nothing. Do nothing. Trust no one. Do your job. And get home safely.

Twilight agreed, the handcuff heavy on her wrist.

Rainbow Dash sat alone in a corner, the colors of her hair rim-lit by the rain-splashed window. She had taken it upon herself to provide overwatch for Applejack while cowgirl wasted her time talking to that other suit. If the two tuxes proved that they don’t act as nice as they dress, she’d be fast enough to stop them. After all, she could draw a bead on a target faster than anyone in the team, faster than anyone she’s ever met. That’s why she’s the best. That’s why she’s here.

At least, that’s what she kept telling herself. In truth, her focus on AJ and the captain began to wane shortly after the talking had started. Spitting words wasn’t nearly as exciting as spitting bullets. And while she was certainly fast on her feet, Rainbow Dash was accustomed to nailing targets at 700 meters, not seven.

The athlete shoved her doubts aside, aiming her attention at two new targets. The older man and that one girl had tucked themselves away in the opposite corner of the diner. They were sulking in the shadows. They were talking in hushed tones. And they weren’t too willing to return her eagle-eyed gaze. Something about the way their eyes would dart away from hers drew her suspicion. What are the planning?

A snap of light broke the Dash’s concentration. A lingering glowstick hovered over her head, held by a set of manicured fingers. Rarity placed the light source upon the table before taking a seat at the booth. “My heavens, Rainbow. Aren’t you freezing?”

Dash didn’t appreciate the interruption, but it was probably for the better. Conversation would help put her at ease. Leaning back against the upholstery, she let loose an indifferent shrug, “Nah, I’m good. Back home got way worse than this.”

“Really, now? You’re used to weathering this howling wind and the freezing rain in little more than running shorts and a jacket?”

“Hey, it’ll take more than a little storm to slow me down. Besides, I think I run better in the rain.”

Rarity folded her hands inquisitively on the tabletop. “Is that so? Is that why your moniker is ‘Rainbow Dash’?”

It was surprising that no one had thought of that before. The impressed athlete cracked an earnest smile, “Clever, but not quite. It’s a long story, so I’ll have to tell you some other time. Maybe in return, you can tell me why you chose, ‘Rarity’.”

The lady shrugged, “Maybe… maybe…”

The conversation was short-lived, and Rainbow Dash’s eyes began to wander in idleness. Naturally, they returned to her targets. After noticing her friend’s focus into the distance, Rarity turned to see the two she was staring at.

“You think we can trust these guys?”

“No,” Rarity answered bluntly, still staring at the man across the room, “but we mustn’t let that stop us. Besides, they seem as lost as we are, perhaps moreso. Whether they’ll admit to it or not, they need our help. And it is only proper of us to extend the invitation.”

Her friend was less than convinced. “Yeah? Well, between the distress call, that girl, and now those two, I’m starting to think that we wandered into a party we weren’t invited to.”

Rarity dismissed such a brazen accusation with a wave of her hand. “Please, darling. You’re beginning to sound as apprehensive as Applejack.”

Sometimes Applejack has a point, Rainbow Dash thought to herself.

Captain Light had explained everything he needed to share, and nothing else. As far as MANE 3 knew, Knight Shining Armor and himself were ambushed by an unnamed enemy force. After escaping the attack, they had begun searching for Twilight. They had noticed the flare on the side of the road and decided to investigate the diner, which lead to their introductions at gunpoint. Of course, the truth was more complicated, as the bullet-dented SUV outside could attest. The Network, the Umbra, their mission: there were more than a few details that he chose to skip.

Applejack may have been raised on her family’s farm, but she was sharper than most give her credit for. She might not be able to do fancy mathematics or solve a funny colored cube, but she could read the writing on the wall. The captain appeared confident, strong, and unmoved by his current situation, but that strong-man straightness was just the starch in his collar. It was the way he’d close his eyes and take one long, meditative breath before saying something new. He was worried. He had something to lose. But he certainly had nothing else he’d be willing to share. After suits like him had the gall to come to her farm and tear her away from her family again, Applejack took a guilty pleasure in watching him squirm.

“Well, we sure didn’t attack you. Your boy over there said it himself, sir,” she reassured the elder guardsman. “But then do you have any idea who’d done it?”

Light was hesitant to answer. “It doesn’t matter. But whoever they may be, if they strike us again, my team will do whatever we must to survive.”

“From the sound of it, they hit your boys hard. While I don’t doubt your abilities, captain, I think we can all agree that an escort wouldn’t hurt.”

Captain Light’s dismissed such an idea with a negatory grunt. Guardsman doctrine disallowed collaboration with outside civilians, lest they become a vulnerability or a distraction. Not only would it be illegal by the creed of the royal guard, but it was also unnecessary in his tactical opinion. “The offer is noted, but unneeded. A single-vehicle formation allow us to more effectively evade any search parties or ambushes we may face.”

“Search parties? Forgive me for speakin’ freely, sir, but I doubt those folks’re looking for you now. If they are, this diner’d be a whole lot busier than it is now. Given what you all’ve said, I’d say that they completed their mission and probably already RTB’ed.”

The captain was less than convinced of Applejack’s analysis. “Are you suggesting that the same hostile force that organized an ambush against us would just let us walk away?”

But Applejack stood her ground. “We heard a broadcast over the radio, Mr. Light. ‘Condition Sundown’ mean anything to you?”

Captain Light couldn’t hide his surprise fast enough behind a suspicious, narrow glare. “How do you know about-“

“Before we hit the storm wall, we heard it bouncing around our short band frequencies. We sure didn’t know what it’s supposed to mean, and quite frankly it don’t matter to us. But it certainly sounded like trouble, so we went to check it out. No blood, no bodies, no wrecks or gunfire or anyone there to tell us the story, but there was enough to know that you ain’t lying. But if I were them, I wouldn’t just let three civilians walk through a half-cleaned crash site if I still had loose ends to tie up.”

As much as he hated to admit it, Light couldn’t find a flaw in her rationale. Indeed, he was rather impressed. “I take it you’ve seen your fair share of ambushes?”

“Yes sir. Usually on the wrong end of them, though.”

The captain’s approving grunt sounded an awful lot like an honest chuckle. It was odd hearing such a large man laugh without moving a single muscle in his stoic face. Who would have thought such a starch-collared suit could have a sense of humor?

“Just so you know,” Applejack continued, “the offer for that escort still stands, sir. There’s only one road in and out of this forest, so we’d be going along the same route anyways. We exfil together, and my team can escort you wherever you need to go.”

“As I stated before, your offer is unnecessary-“

Doubt stopped the captain’s tongue. Lost in thought, his hazel eyes bounced between the counter and the woman in front of him. He was a captain in the royal Illuminatus guard, a loyal servant to Cell, the Illuminatus, and the Network. Under oath, he swore to protect the Illuminatus and uphold its creeds to the letter. It was his duty to accomplish any task given to him. And it was his mission to get his people home.

Reality struck as he laid his eyes upon the man and the girl, both huddled in their dark little corner. Their faces were masked by shadows, but he could see the exhaustion in their reddened eyes. The noble Knight, who had been confident and eager to join the mission, looked as miserable as his mud-stained uniform. Armor knew that the captain was staring at him, but that didn’t stop him from slouching over the table and wrapping his arms around his head, peering out only to shoot incredulous looks at the table of women across the room. Twilight looked just as pitiful. Her impeccable school uniform, which she had worn with pride, could barely be considered wearable clothing. The number of slashes and the breadth of the bloodstains along its cloth were a testament to what their wearer had to endure. As quietly as she could, she sniffled and groaned to distract herself from the gnawing pain. It sounded like she was crying; she certainly felt like starting.

There wasn’t anything that the old guardsman wouldn’t do for his unit, for those two. Under normal circumstances, collaborating with outside civilians would lead to his immediate dishonorable discharge from the Guard for endangering his unit, his mission, and the Network. But this was not a normal circumstance. Nor were Applejack and her team normal civilians. And to him, this unit was more important than anything else.

Despite the sign that escaped him, Captain Light spoke with absolute confidence. “…but you’ve made your point. I accept your offer of assistance with extraction, Applejack. I’d rather have your support than not.”

Relief sweeping over her, Applejack cracked a reassuring smile. She may not feel the most confidence in him, but she certainly had a good feeling about this. “Hey, if it makes you feel any better, no one’s stupid enough to be caught out in a torrent like this.”

“No one except us.”

A map of the state was laid out on the counter, its curling corners pinned by ketchup bottles and salt shakers atop the aged counter. Flashlights and fingers scanned over parks names and city limits, gently pressing the creases from the dusty page. It was nothing short of miraculous that one of the few items the diner’s owners had left behind was the map they all needed. Six people stood around the table. On one side stood two men and one woman, each looking beaten from the storm they had weathered only hours ago. On the other stood three women, each of them eager to finish their job. Despite an agreement to work together, the map formed the border between the two parties.

The cowgirl ran her stub of a pencil across the strewn out map. Her family had always been good at getting lost: Big Mac wouldn’t ask for directions, Applebloom couldn’t read a map, and Granny Smith shouldn’t be trusted to do either task. Thus it always came down to Applejack to keep the trail, and she always did prefer old-fashioned pen and paper.

Starting from the oblong circle that marked their current position, Applejack began to trace the fastest route. She followed the miles of winding road ahead of them, gently pressing her tongue between her teeth in thought, before beginning the briefing. “The nearest open road is Taconic State Parkway, after which we’ll be able to move about freely. However, getting there won’t be a walk in the park. Quite simply, there ain’t no easy way in or outta here, and the whole road is prime ambush territory.”

Shining Armor answered, “We’re well aware of the risks. How far are we from this road of yours?”

“Five miles, give or take. This storm won’t make the drive any shorter, though.”

“Five miles makes for one long kill-zone,” Armor muttered to himself.

Captain Light instructed his team. “Applejack believes that the enemy does not intend to strike civilians. Thus, the best chance of survival is to remain covert among civilian cars. At least they'll hesitate before firing.”

Applejack could see the questions pop into peoples’ minds. Despite the Knight’s protest, she stressed her confidence with the plan. “These people may have been able to ambush you here in the middle of nowhere, but they would have to be very brave, very confident, or very stupid to draw attention to themselves in public. Once we’re out of the forest, it should be safe for you folks to head home.”

“Yeah? And what’s the best way to do that?”

Applejack tapped her pencil against the map. “See this big road right here? That’s an interstate, and it’ll take you wherever you came from. Assuming you boys aren’t from around here, odds are you took one to get here. You’d best be taking interstate I-87 over here, and following that through I-287, I-78, and I-81. After that, you’ll all be home free.”

“I like the sound of that,” Shining Armor added.

“As for us…” Applejack began, referring to her team as she stood upright. The ponytailed woman gestured her free hand towards Twilight, “I figure that so long as she’s safe with you boys, we can call it, ‘mission accomplished.’ We’ll take you to the interstate, say our goodbyes, and then we’ll all go our separate ways.”

“I like the sound of that,” Rainbow Dash added, shooting a wry smile towards Shining Armor.

Rarity was quick to cover her friend’s comment, “Yes, that plan does sound quite adequate, doesn’t it?” She quickly cleared her throat in in a lady-like manner to set the tone for her next question. “However, I do believe there’s still another matter that needs to be discussed.”

“What else could be the mat-“Twilight’s eagerness to get home was rewarded by a bout of coughs that pummeled her chest. Despite her best resistance, the girl’s injuries were beginning to take a deeper toll beyond merely pain and suffering. She felt her brain swelling with blood, weighing heavily despite her light-headed sensation. Her eyes felt heavy as they begged for sleep. She surely would have felt nauseous were she not so hungry. It took a second for her to realize that the continued silence was not a few seconds of deafness. As she peeled her eyes up to the faces of those around her, she realized they were all staring at her.

“Darling, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re a most ghastly shade of white. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“And one infection is all it’ll take to turn her into one,” Applejack added unceremoniously. She scanned the map once more, and called for her teammates’ attention with several loud raps of her finger against the table. “There’s a hospital to the south of us, not much further from here. We can take her there-”

Rarity’s interruption continued Applejack’s suggestion seamlessly, “But if you’re evading the authorities, I wouldn’t advise it. Especially with their suits, guns, and general demeanor, the local authorities will surely have a lot of questions. Plus, were I searching for an enemy who’s likely injured, a hospital would be the first place I’d look. If you wish to lay low, you need a doctor who can keep quiet and a safe house that’s properly stocked.”

“Pardon me, Rarity,” Applejack politely chimed in, “but if you haven’t noticed, we lack either of those things.”

Before Rarity could defend her inquisitive abilities, a skinny finger swiftly shot into the air. “Actually… that’s not entirely true.”

This caught her friends’ attention. The brash woman wasn’t known for her conversational timing nor her tactical input, making her offer of insight rather surprising. Applejack was genuinely curious to hear what she had to say. “Rainbow, care to explain what’s on your mind?”

“Pleasantville,” she answered, tapping her finger against the name on the map. “A quaint little town from what I’m told. It’s close to here, it’s near the interstate, and it’s on the way anyways. I know someone there who can help.”

“A doctor?” Shining Armor asked with equal parts surprise and suspicion.

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Can he provide us with a safe place to stay?”

“’She’”, Rainbow corrected, “and maybe. I’d have to call in a favor… unless you don’t mind paying rent, that is.”

“And you trust this doctor of yours?”

She didn’t hesitate to answer, “And she trusts me, without a doubt. That’s what friends do.”

The members of MANE 3 muttered amongst themselves in agreement. “It sounds like our best bet,” Rarity noted.

“It sounds like our only bet,” Applejack concurred.

Twilight was less than convinced. As deathly as she felt, there was no telling what those three had planned. She refused to take part in it. “No-please... I’m fine.” The girl fought to stand up straight to prove her resilience, but another round of coughing shattered the illusion of fortitude. Her voice still trembling, she still insisted, “I… I can make it, really.”

Shining Armor stepped in for her defense. “She might be a bookworm, but Twilight’s tougher than she looks. She doesn’t need your pity, she just needs time to rest.”

Rainbow Dash was quick to disagree. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger, but she’s had plenty of that. It seems to me that she doesn’t need time, she needs a doctor. Time is something she’s running out of.” The blatancy of the message only made the girl’s stomach sink lower.

The young guardsman was prepared to fight tooth and nail to defend her. But before a second argument could break out between the brash and the proud, the captain stepped in. “No,” he told Shining Armor, his hazel eyes steeled with confident resolve. “They’re right. I won’t risk Twilight’s life for the sake of time or pride.” He turned towards the girl in question. His voice turned deep and reflective, hesitant to say what needed to be said but said them anyways, “Even if we aren’t ambushed out there, there’s a good chance your wounds will become infected. And if that happens… you may not make it back to the Institute. Finding medical attention is our new priority.”

“But… really, I’m fine-“

“Captain, I don’t agree with your assessment. Regardless of her wounds, the enemy may be searching for us. If we leave now-“

Light turned towards the two people beside him, addressing each speaker with the decisive tone a father takes with his two misbehaving children. “Twilight: this is not a matter of debate. Knight Armor: that is an order.” When their reactions became one of disciplined obedience, the older man understood that his message was clear and understood.

He turned towards MANE 3, who seemed quietly impressed with the performance. “We don’t have any more time to waste,” Captain Light demanded. “Pleasantville. Let’s move out.”

Author's Note

Hey, look at that. Right on time, three months later.

These last few months have been pretty busy, and I actually had a to-be-released version of Chapter 8 ready to go in mid-April. However, I was soon distracted, and when I came around to it again, I was not satisfied with the outcome; it was much more dialogue-heavy, toed the line of being an info-dump, and generally didn't flow very nicely. In the months that followed, I've been busy with a second job, dealing with infinite power series and second-order differential equations, and figuring out a solution to the Arab-Israeli conflict, but I never stopped working on this story. Hope you enjoyed the latest installment.

Also another interesting fact that flew under the radar: Chapter 7 was published 2 days after the one year anniversary of this story's initial publication on fimifiction.net, which was February 11, 2013.

Thank you guys for all the support in the mean time!

Cutting Room Floor Stats:
Cut characters: 33226
Cut words: 5997
Cut sentences: 363
Cut Paragraphs: 142
Ratio of Published words to Cut words: 1.1302

Chapter 9: Ethereal

The marble-white SUV stood in the center of the diner’s parking lot, its four wheels planted firmly on the rain-washed pavement. It appeared to be identical to many of the other cars in the Network’s fleet, but this one was different. Marrying a sleek form and powerful function, this SUV had been built by hand to meet Cell’s standard of perfection. But Cell had also made many custom alterations to this vehicle in particular, the details of which were never recorded nor revealed. Rumors from loose-lipped guardsmen had always circulated about hidden weapons and ejection seats, but only Cell knew the truth of what was inside that passenger cabin. Officially designated “Chariot One” by its creators, only a select few of the most senior ranking Illuminatus Guardsmen had the privilege of operating the most specialized SUV in the Network’s fleet.

Captain Light was one such guardsman. He ignored the downpour as he stood beside the driver’s side door, his hazel eyes watching the distant haze for any sign of movement. The storm shook the trees and howled the wind, making the forest that surrounded them come to life like a ghoulish fantasy. Even as the shrubs turned to bramble and the forest grew with sharp-toothed smiles, the man would not be deterred. He had faced down greater dangers in his time, and today would prove no different.

The presence of another person coming up beside him pulled Light from his mental wandering, and he quickly put his mind at attention. He didn’t need to see who it was, for the woman’s southern accent announced her identity.

“The girls’re ready when you are, Captain,” Applejack said. Whether out of empathy, respect, or personal choice, she refused to look at him too. Together, they looked intently into the haze before them.

Light grunted approvingly as he nodded, droplets of rain trickling down the fine wrinkles of his brow. “If they are out there, they’ll be waiting for us. We should depart before they can prepare any further.”

Applejack agreed. “Rainbow’s worked out the destination in the town, so she and I’ll be on point. You’d best be on us like a tail on a dog unless you want to get lost out there.”

“You do not need to worry about us. I’ll do whatever I must.”

The cowgirl couldn’t help but sympathize, which prompted a question in her head. “Now you have me a mite curious about that team of yours, Light. I’ve gotten used to suits like you throwing teams like mine into fires like scraps of firewood. Yet here you are, more protective of those two than a fox and his kits during hunting season. I get that they’re important, but I just don’t get why. So who exactly are those two?”

The question was one Light hesitated to answer; he understood her curiosity, but the truth was something that shouldn’t matter to her. “They’re…they’re important. More important than me.” Light turned to face the blonde woman, “Applejack, I have a favor to ask.”

Had it been any other suit she’d met in her life, the cowgirl would have denied them the courtesy of listening to their plea. But, for this suit in particular, she would hear the man’s request.

“Armor and Twilight are good kids, but they don’t know the world like you and I do. Now, I’m responsible for their safety but…but if something happens to me out there, I’d like your word that you’ll keep them safe.”

Applejack said nothing. But in the storming silence that followed, she knew her answer.

A pair of unsteady feet shuffled across the tile floor. The door was the destination, but it was an impossible length away. She may as well have been walking to the moon and back again. Twenty feet.

“I can’t do it. I just can’t,” she said.

“Yes you can. Come on, I’ll help you,” he said.

A weak hand gripped the young man’s jacket as legs trembled against the ground. The timing of each step and the tugging at his sleeve matched each other to a hesitant beat. Together, they slowly marched to the tentative pace. Fifteen feet.

“I can barely move as it is.”

“You’re doing fine. Don’t stop to think about the distance. Just keep moving.”

She couldn’t help it. She couldn’t stop thinking, even if she tried. Thinking is what came naturally to her. She thought about her books. She thought about a book about the central nervous system. “Fight or Flight: Exploring the Nervous System (3rd edition)”. It was in the Physiology wing of the library’s bottom floor, second shelf from the left, above the books about dreams and below the books about psychosis. She remembered spending all night copying the diagrams from that book into her notes and studying the text as thoroughly as a 12 year old could. Even now, she could imagine the nocioceptor nerve endings in her skin transmitting electrical energy from their axon up through her spinal cord, where they’ll reach the brainstem and stimulate the thalamus and the synapses of the somatosensory cortex, thus stimulating the negative sensory feedback that panged her body with every aching moment. Thinking about the pain made her forget about feeling it for that moment at least. Sometimes it was simpler to focus on numbers. Five feet.

“We’re almost at the door. You’re doing good, Twilight.”

He could hear her anticipating each new step with a methodical breath. As one foot uprooted itself and rose into the air, she’d let the cold air fill her lungs; as it fell to the floor, replanting itself against the infirm ground, she’d let go of her breath.

Three feet. Two feet. One.

And finally, none.

Shining Armor was as relieved as Twilight to have finally made it. “I told you you could do it. I won’t lie to you: beyond this door, it’s pretty miserable. But Captain Light’s waiting for us with our ride out of here.” The young man gave the girl a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Are you ready?”

Her first thought was an immediate, “no”. But that thought was soon quelled by a more impelling voice. “You will not be weak. You must be strong.” Twilight nodded her head before she had the chance to change her mind.

The door burst open with a sharp gust of wind that nearly blew Twilight to the floor. Shining Armor pressing her forward, the ceramic-white SUV parked along the curb was their destination. The pace quickened under the torrential downpour around them. The sky was still as dark as night, but she could make out movement between the rain and the cars. Captain Light and Applejack stood beside the SUV, staring into the darkened forest across the road. Rarity stood alone beside her pearl-white Mercedes Benz, pouting about the rain as she held her umbrella close. Rainbow Dash could barely be seen in the distance, identifiable as a narrow body running down the road with a bright red flare in her hands. The black-haired girl paused to watch the alluring amber blaze burn defiantly through the air like a firework before being doused in a puddle, the water boiling as the last light finally faded. Before long, the two had arrived at their destination.

The Chariot. Of all the vehicles to be saved from the ambush, it had to be this one. Whether it was a sign of hope or an omen of things to come, Twilight was shocked to find it there. It was Cell’s personal transport, a one-of-a-kind vehicle for the Network’s most important VIP. She dared to touch the Chariot’s side. The chilling touch of metal confirmed the vehicle’s presence in reality. Embracing the naive glimmer of hope, Twilight ignored the dents and deflections of the battle-worn vehicle. She pressed her face against the center window, her hand over her forehead. She squinted her eyes to peer through the tinted blackness. Yet to the student’s dismay, the cabin was empty; her teacher was nowhere to be found.

The dismal girl slowly pulled away from the window as she felt that brief moment of hope leave her. Her eyes wide with sorrow, she looked to the young man beside her. Twilight looked to Shining Armor for something: comfort, guidance, reassurance, something to distract her from the despair growing within her.

As Shining Armor looked back at her, caught in her grief-stricken gaze, he answered the question she hadn’t the strength to say. “We don’t know what happened to her.” The inkling of compassion in his voice did little to soften the blow. “When we were first ambushed, things were too chaotic for us to coordinate through. In spite of this, we did what we thought we should do: we went to protect Cell. That’s when Sledge and I left you and Spike in the back of our car. But when we got to the Chariot, we found it already empty, every door already swung open, every passenger already gone…in one way or-.”

“That’s enough, Shining Armor.” The Knight’s explanation was cut short as his captain stepped in. Light looked over the two once more, before saying, “MANE 3 reports they are ready to move out. They’ll be our guide and escort out of this forest, but I still want you both to be ready for anything.” The older man placed his hand on the passenger seat door, taking a moment to let the biometric scanners approve his identity before tossing it open. “Shining Armor, you’re on shotgun.”

Armor understood, but he took a moment to reassure the girl who was stuck staring at her shoes. Putting on the best grin he could muster, he gently put a hand on her shoulder and tried to look her in the eyes, “Wherever she is, I’m sure she’s fine.”

‘Fine’, he said. As Twilight contemplated the more-likely possibilities, ‘fine’ became an increasingly naive statement. Could she be alright? Or was Cell truly gone: lost, captured, tortured, and killed by the very people that had once sought to apprehend her. Given the circumstances, the odds were overwhelmingly against her. It would take nothing short of a miracle for Cell to escape that, and the student was never one for superstition. For the fleeting moment as Armor obeyed his order, Twilight felt hate towards Armor and his dishonest assurances. But as the door slammed shut, she began to hate herself.

“Do you know, captain?” the girl asked in a whisper, “Is she really gone?”

Light stood with his hand on the rear door, his hands firmly grasping the handle. The scanners had already done their job, but he stayed frozen there, looking down upon the girl. “I don’t know,” he answered truthfully. From the way she didn’t move a muscle, he could tell the answer didn’t sit well with her. “But regardless of where she is, we should focus on what she’d want. And what Cell would want is for her protégé to get home safely. The Chariot is the most armored vehicle here, and that cabin is the safest place for you. It may be against protocol, but if anyone were to disobey it, she’d want it to be you.” With that, the man pulled the door open.

The forbidden cabin of the Chariot seemed to emanate an aura like a warm breeze in the midst of the freezing torrent. Amber lights flickered softly from inside. The cabin was illuminated as if by the comforting glow of candlelight. It seemed to call to her, beckoning her inside with a warm, mothering tongue. Twilight resisted at first, hesitating against breaking the wishes of her teacher. But after the Captain gave one last reassuring nod, she walked up to the door, stepped inside, and let the warmth overtake her.

As the door shut behind her, Twilight could feel the tips of her fingers tingling with anxious energy. In the center of the cabin was a luxurious leather seat that felt as soft and plush as a cloud. The throne was sized to fit Cell’s lanky frame, and as the girl took a seat upon it, she felt her slight frame was undeserving of such magnificence. The cabin’s fine oak trim was carved with a dazzling display of bas-relief, revealing hundreds of years’ worth of the Illuminatus’s history. Yet unlike in the SUV before, this cabin lacked the window between the front driver’s cabin with the passenger cabin, and the windows were tinted to a near impenetrability. The Chariot was built as a sanctuary, yet its sanctity was preserved by titanium plating and absolute isolation.

The Chariot’s sudden movement caught Twilight off-guard, forcing her upon Cell’s former throne. As her body made full contact with the beckoning seat, she could feel something changing within her.

The electricity in the air seemed to double in density. Every muscle in her body felt the urge to twitch and move as if out of reflex. She felt her senses being heightened by the nervous excitement, her synapses working at impossible depth. Despite the wall between them, Twilight could swear she heard Light reminding Armor to, “stay sharp and watch the treeline,” while Armor retorted with, “watching those outsiders instead.” Even further out was Rainbow Dash whining to Applejack about how she could be riding in Rarity’s, “super sweet Benz” instead of being stuck in a truck on map duty.

The cabin began to fill with a quiet noise, a soft sound that she’d never heard of before. It was a song unknown to her, one with no recognizable instruments or vocals, yet made her feel as if she were being lulled to rest by a choir of angels.

Every moment of the song washed over her anxiety like a calming wave, pulling her physical body into the embrace of the cloud-soft chair whilst everything else ascended into heaven.

In the matter of moments between exhilaration and serenity, Twilight felt everything drain from her body.

She felt herself slipping away with the distant echoes of a familiar voice.

Twilight never remembered waking up in that place; it was as if she had always been there. This place was unlike anything that any mortal being could have been imagined. There were no light, no sky, no geography of any kind. This world was empty of everything, where a body of haze masked a perpetual blackness that stretched into the infinite in all directions. There was no doubt of one’s presence, but their physical body felt immaterial and intangible; mass and matter were foreign concepts in this place. She was nothing short of ethereal.

The woman’s voice cackled from inside the haze, distantly echoing through the emptiness. “How does it feel to be powerless?”

Twilight recognized that voice, and she was terrified to hear it again. She looked around, searching for the source but finding none. Was the question directed towards her? Was someone else there? Could they tell her where she was? The mystery alone was enough to beckon Twilight into the haze, prodding deeper into the unknown.

The voice continued to speak. “How does it feel to know that everything you’ve done is now meaningless- that you have failed everything you had hoped to accomplish? How does it make you feel to know that your royal guard, a private army at your beck and call, will never hear your cries for help? “

There was a circle inside the expanse that cut through the haze, holding back the encroaching fog like a sea wall against the crashing waves. Two women, one in white and the other in black, stood in the center of this arena. Their ethereal figures stood as they faced the other down, their faces taut with equal parts esteem and contempt. This was a battle of wills in a world where nothing else existed.

Nightmare made the first move. As she took the first step forward, the razor-sharp heel of her shoe clacking obediently against the non-existent ground. “Do you remember that feeling? How the stomach churns and the throat seizes shut, and how the mind runs wild while the body shuts down? Do you remember fear? After all, the last time you felt it was the last time you saw Luna.”

“Don’t you dare bring her into this,” Cell responded, her venomous glare and razor-sharp tongue contrasting with her rigid demeanor. “Your quarrel is with me, not her. She is not involved in this.”

The order was received with an amused laugh. Confident in her success, the woman in black continued, “Oh, but she is. In fact, I owe her a great deal, as I do to you. I thank you for the absolute control you’ve given me over the Umbra, and I thank you for shutting yourself away in that little Institute of yours for all that time. All I had to do was to pick up the pieces of the world you threw away, and Luna did the rest. “

“You’re lying,” she growled. “She may have been imprisoned, but her soul is still pure and good. She is still loyal to our cause.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” the bold woman sneered into the other’s face, taking the silvery woman’s cold indifference as a sign of her vulnerability. “You speak as if you trapped her away from me, when in reality she was the one trapped with me. You gave her a mansion, but it was still her prison. And I have ways of breaking my prisoners.”

As the woman’s black lips curled into a devious smile, images flashed around her opponent’s head. Torture. Starvation. Isolation. Cell could barely contain herself as the rush of disgust overcame her. “I want to speak to her- I demand to speak to Luna. What have you done with her?”

“Why, she’s right where you left her: rotting in your prison, languishing for the crimes you found her guilty of, festering with resentment and regret. After only a single year, she surrendered to my terms: I would rebuild the Umbra, and she would help me in every way that mattered; in a sense, I had to become her… in every way that mattered.”

Cell’s eyes narrowed, “What do you mean?”

“She told me everything about you two: what you truly are, the powers you yield, your miserable dream of a world in harmony. But more importantly, she showed me the untapped power within me. That’s how I unlocked my true potential. That’s how I rebuilt the Umbra. That’s how I brought you here. In her own words, I’m as powerful as she is. And thus, I am as powerful as you are.”

What Nightmare did next made Twilight shudder in terrified awe. The woman held out her arm with deliberate poise. Soon, a flow of cerulean light began to emanate from the tips of her fingers, engulfing her entire hand and wrapping around her arm like a serpent on a branch. The aura slithered up her arm and around her neck like a scarf, before playfully wrapping around her outstretched fingers. Holding it close, Nightmare’s hand clasped shut, extinguishing the glow between her fingers in a single powerful motion. She brought her relaxed fist close to her face, and as she extended her thumb and forefinger, an arc of electricity cackled between the tips.

The woman adored the power she held between her fingers. “Magic. Such fascinating power. Impossible, imaginary, yet doubtlessly real. In anyone else’s eyes, I’d be considered a monster or a witch to be burned at the stake. Even in this era, the people of this planet are petty, superstitious, and fearful; I can understand why you’d never show them the truth. They wouldn’t see us as human… but I guess that was never a problem for you. And to think… the woman you want so dearly to protect is the one who helped create your worst nightmare.”

“Midnight, I am warning you. You do not understand such power, and I can feel its influence corrupting you. You were not taught to fully control it, and if left unchecked it will inevitably come to control you. Please, give up this fight and come away peacefully.”

“Hah. Save your begging, Cell. There will be plenty of time for that at your execution. You clearly underestimate me if you think that you can still speak to me as a subordinate to your whims. Your guards are dead, captured, or disorganized. Your protégé is on the run and will soon be in my thrall. And once your Project Harmony is under my complete control, I will use it to destroy the Institute until it is nothing more than ashen memories. As for you… perhaps you will speak with the proper amount of reverence when you are begging for mercy at my feet.”

“I know you will not succeed. I offer you one final chance…”

The woman in black continued speaking, her shouting brazen with her confidence. “No. The time for diplomacy has ended, and a time for war is upon us. It will be a dark age lit by fire and lightning. But once the final night falls, the Umbra will crush the Illuminatus. Only then will we take our rightful place and reign supreme over the Earth. You wanted your vision of peace? I shall make it. But you will never have the chance to see it.”

Nightmare’s hand shot forward, the flow of her magic reaching out to engulf Cell. Unfazed, the woman in white solemnly shut her eyes. Just as the cerulean tendrils reached out to strike her, Cell’s body disappeared, her image dissipating into a cloud of dust.

The woman in black let out a disappointed grunt. She redoubled her stance, standing boastfully with her hands behind her back. Even after all evidence of her nemesis had disappeared, Nightmare still stared into the infinite haze.

Twilight was frozen still, watching Nightmare from the boundary of the fog. She was afraid to move, afraid to breathe, but above all else, afraid of her.

“I’m glad you were here to see that, Twilight,” Nightmare said. “Let it be a lesson to you.”

Twilight’s heart stopped as her every hair stood on edge. Before she could turn to run away, Nightmare’s magic engulfed the girl, wrapping the light around her arms and legs. The immaterial tendrils lifted up her into the air with absolute ease. Twilight struggled to move but to no avail: she was powerless to escape. With the same deliberate poise, Nightmare turned to face her captive.

“You may have escaped me before, but I will find you. Then, you will tell about Project Harmony. Then you will tell me where the Elements are. And then you will help me take what is rightfully mine. But until then, remember this day, for it shall be your last.”

The tendrils began to constrict, squeezing the girl’s body all at once. But before she could scream in both pain and terror, Twilight felt herself fade into dust as well.

The universe welcomed Twilight’s return with a jolt of lightning to the brainstem. As consciousness rushed back to her, she could feel every atom of her body rushing back into its place. The sensation of omniscience drained from her mind, replaced by the sluggish mass of matter. It took a moment for Twilight to readjust to the physical world while still struggling to comprehend the previous one. As impossible as the dream may have been, it felt too real to ignore.

Twilight felt like she had been sleeping for at least a century. Still, she could feel the warmth of light and the scent of sterile air. Wherever it was, the room had been recently cleaned as evidenced from the lingering smell of bleach. It was all reminiscent of the Infirmary back home; despite only going there once for a severe stomach ache, the student could still recall Hippocrates and his army of nurses. However, the familiar comforts only emphasized the things that were out of place: the demure humming of an unfamiliar voice, the rhythmic breathing against her neck, the peculiar scent of raspberry. Her body felt numb, but she could feel something moving along her shoulder. Painlessly prodding and pressing the skin together, this other person seemed unaware of Twilight’s consciousness.

The girl opened her eyes to find a veil of hair mere inches away from her face. The soft pink strands waved in sync with the melody of the song. Whoever this person was, and whatever they were doing, they were too close for comfort. Twilight’s words were more of a sluggish groan than an honest question, “Can I help you?”

The humming suddenly stopped, as did the other girl’s breathing. Her head turned slowly towards Twilight, afraid of what she might find. From behind the waving curtain of pink hair, a pair of turquoise eyes stared back, pupils constricting with surprise. The woman jumped back off her patient with a gasp, sending a tray of assorted medical equipment crashing to the floor with a series of metallic clangs. Even after the ruckus had ended, the pink-haired girl stood shaking in her shoes as her back pressed against the far wall. From opposite ends of the room, the two stared at each other.

There were a million questions in Twilight’s mind at the time: where was she, what time was it, how did she get here, where were the others? But only one managed to reach her lips. “Who are you?”

The timid woman squeaked in reply.

Author's Note

Sorry I couldn't push this chapter out sooner. My laptop, which I've used dedicate for productive purposes e.g. writing, recently malfunctioned to a non-functioning point. I couldn't recover the latest version, but I could recover a back-up that was several weeks old. While this meant I had to rewrite about 1/3rds of this chapter, it also meant I didn't have to rewrite 2/3 of it on top of everything else. This also means a delay on starting on the next chapter... but I'm sure you guys are used to those by now.

Remember kids: back up your data regularly.

Retcon notice: Rarity's Bentley is now a Mercedes Benz in Chapters 7 and 9. Done so because apparently not everyone knows what Bentley is, but Mercedes Benz are more popularly known for making expensive luxury cars.

Also, I want to say thank you again to my awesome readers. Because of y'all, I'm about to cross the 50-1 thumbs-up ratio (a 98% rating in my books). While the next stop would logically be 75-1, I've found that that number is statistically improbable for a writer of my caliber. Next goal: 100 favorites.

Chapter 10: Post Tenebras Lux

Ground zero. Where everything went wrong.

It was hard to believe that this insignificant strip of road had been a warzone only a few hours ago. The burning wrecks of Unit 1 and Unit 5 were gone, and the countless bodies of noble guardsmen had disappeared. By storm or by man, every trace of the attack had been removed. All that remained was the memory. Even though the cabin was hermetically sealed, Shining Armor could still smell the carnage: ashen smoke, ferrous blood, burning gunpowder. He combed his fingers through his cobalt hair and turned his attention back to the outside world.

The young guardsman refused to blink as he continued through the forgotten forest. He had gotten sloppy- gotten distracted- and he barely made it out alive. After four years’ worth of dull, 12-hour patrols along the Institute’s border wall as a member of the Civil Guard, he had hoped to keep his skills sharp by training in his free time: a 2 mile run every morning, two hours of physical training every evening, and a visit to the shooting range at least twice per week. When the rest of his barracks had gone to sleep, the man spent hours shining his shoes and ironing the uniform he was forbidden from wearing. Even in disgrace, Shining Armor wanted his uniform to be perfect for the day he would have the chance to wear it again. He got his wish only last night, when Captain Light had personally invited him to return to the ranks of the Royal Guard.

Armor had dreamed for a chance to prove that he was worthy enough to wear the uniform. Now he only hoped to make it home in one piece. His grip never loosened from his pistol’s holster, and he simply sat there waiting. Waiting.

“Something on your mind, Knight?”

There were a million answers to that question, one for every rambling thought that was passing through his head. “No sir,” he said with practiced confidence, “just staying focused. Vigilamus pro te.”

Captain Light nodded approvingly. “A clever use of the Civil Guard’s motto, but you aren’t patrolling the wall anymore. You are a member of the Royal Guard, Armor; you can find strength in our creed.”

Fortiter et fideliter. Shining Armor hoped that he could live up to those words in the moments to come.

Rainbow Dash felt a knot in her stomach as she stared out the window of Applejack’s truck. Something about the forest seemed to change as they passed, everything perverted beyond nature’s design. Trees began to pale in color, turning from vibrant browns and reds to ghostly grey and white. Branches twisted and stretched in unnatural forms, reaching their razor-sharp fingers as far as they could. Ivy snaked between the deathly trees while bushes began to bristle with thorns. The comforting songs of birds had fallen silent, replaced claps of thunder and the unearthly howls of some distant creature.

And to make matters worse, AJ still refused to turn her country music off.

When Rainbow turned her attention to the forest, she could swear a swarm of glowing lights leered back at. “Jack, are you seeing this?”

“I wish I wasn’t. Whatever it is, it’s spreading fast, faster than us. If there’s no stopping it-”

“Pleasantville, all those people…”

Applejack nodded grimly. “If we’re here, the United Security Forces must be too. If they’re smart, they should be evacuating the town already. But at this rate, it’ll reach the town in an hour. The coast, in a day. Beyond that, I can’t fathom.”

Dash didn’t need to hear any more.

The whole mission had been suspicious from the start, and Applejack was beginning to doubt their mission entirely. She looked in the rear view mirror, finding the ceramic white SUV that they had volunteered to escort into the city. Were they telling her the full truth? If not, what weren’t they telling her? And what were the chances that they were involved with whatever was changing the forest? The woman could only speculate at the answers.

“I’m getting the feeling that the forest and the g-men we picked up are related,” Dash said. “What do you think?”

She leered into her mirror once more, trying to spy the three through their black tinted windows. There was nothing to be seen, and that’s what worried her. “I think that once we’re out of this forest, we deserve ourselves some answers. Check your weapons and be prepared for anything. Trouble’s bound to find us sooner or later.”

When you’re waiting for danger to inevitably strike, waiting becomes the hardest thing to do. If a bullet or a bomb didn’t kill the Knight, then the boredom certainly would. Part of him wanted an attack to come, to let it happen and be done with the whole ordeal. The air was getting stiffer as the seconds suffocated him. His mind wandered in order to maintain his sanity. “I haven’t heard a peep out of Twilight since we left. You think she’s okay in there?”

Captain Light was awfully calm for a man who was driving into a potential ambush. He never twitched, stuttered, or even blinked, his surefire focus honed by years of experience. Even in the face of certain danger, he was always looking forward. “I’m sure she’s fine,” the captain said. “Besides, the wall between us and her is soundproof. Consider it a side benefit of the extra plating.”

Shining Armor knocked on the wall with the back of his hand; three short knocks followed by two longs, just as it he remembered. The wall replied with barely a note after each tap, so it wasn’t surprising when no response came through. “You weren’t kidding, sir. You could probably fire a gun in here and she wouldn’t hear it.”

“Believe me: you can.”

The young man let out a ponderous, “Huh.” He certainly wouldn’t doubt it: Light probably knows from experience.

There was a long pause before Captain Light said, “I watched you two introduce each other in the Palace garage. You’ve met her before, haven’t you?”

It was an astute inference, one that caught Armor by surprise. Then again, perhaps he should have expected as such from the head of Cell’s personal guard. “That’s correct, sir. We met during my first assignment with the Royal Guard, working as a bodyguard for one of the royals. Twilight and I were both introduced through… a mutual friend.”

Light nodded. “For what it’s worth, I don’t blame you for what Princess Cadence did.”

Hearing her name again sent a pang of guilt through Shining Armor’s body. “Funny. Everyone else seems to.”

“Not everyone appreciates the power love can have. It’ll change your world, for better and for worse.” Captain Light let out a long, pained sigh. “There was once a saying, ‘love is all you need’. But the truth is that sometimes… love is all you have.”

Shining Armor had never seen this side of his superior before. It felt strange to discuss emotions with a man who seemed to have forgotten them entirely. But there was a somber sincerity in the good captain’s voice, a hint at something still beating beneath the floor boards. “It sounds like you’re speaking from experience, sir. With all due respect, were you … ever in love?”

A long, cold silence hung in the air. There was nothing but the sounds of the humming of the engine and the howling of the storm. Perhaps the silence was preferable to the truth. For the longest time, it seemed like no answer would come.

“Yes,” Captain Light finally said. “But they aren’t memories that I like to think about. It was a long time ago, before the Umbra started their rebellion. I was a member of the Umbra Royal Guard back then, a loyal servant of Luna. I was a Knight, just like you, when we first met.”

The young man watched his commanding officer’s stoic face soften with an ounce of humanity. Humanity, regret, and sorrow.

“She was a pupil of Celestia, the first student to be taken under her wing in the history of the Network. And she was the most loving, brilliant, beautiful person I’d ever known. I will never forget the way she looked at me with those great, blue eyes. What I wouldn’t give to see her one last time…”

Armor recognized the way those eyes stared into the window’s reflection, gazing at something that was not really there. He could read his every longing thought and emotion in the elder guardman’s eyes. The same feelings had resonated within him many times before, causing such emotions to bubble up inside of him.

“Her name is-… her name… was… Twilight Velvet… and we had a family.”

The façade of the unbroken guardsman had been eroded away. Shining Armor looked at Light once more. He could no longer see a captain, a guardsman, or even a follower of the Illuminatus. All he could see was Light, the man beneath the uniform.

It took some time for Light to regain his composure. He cleared his throat of sadness and blinked away the moisture in his eyes. But while his mind had been cleared of the painful memories, his thoughts had turned to their current situation.

“Shining Armor,” he said, “listen to me now. We must all live with the things we’ve done, and the things that have been done to us. But we can’t keep running from our problems forever. Eventually, we’ll need to take a stand, even against the likes of Midnight. Running is what she is counting on us to do, but even the likes of her can be stopped.”

The captain put his hand on the Knight’s shoulders, his hazel eyes intense as they stared into the younger blues. “There are people in this world you can trust, but they will not defeat someone like Midnight on their own. You, Sarah, and I are the only ones who can.”

“Sarah?” Shining Armor asked, “Who’s Sarah?”

An answer would never come. There was a great flash of light and an immediate trembling through the earth. Blinded by the bright blue bolt, the men were helpless to react. The car swerved out of control. Tires screeched against the rain-soaked road. And their moment of peace came to a crashing halt.

An authoritative voice barked out over the sound of a car horn and the ringing of his own ears. “Armor! Shining Armor, report!”

A wave of the young man’s arms confirmed the Knight’s condition: injured but awake. Both Light and Armor were struggling to hold onto consciousness, but they were thankful to be alive. The seatbelts and airbags did their job, but they didn’t stop the overwhelming sense of vertigo. The force of impact had imprinted a series of throbbing pains across their heads and bodies, but the adrenaline quickly caused them all to subside. They were shaking, disoriented, and confused, but still combat ready. The doors flew open as they exited the Chariot, their guns drawn, their safeties off.

The forest looked even more horrible in person, covered ominously in a haze and slicked by the recent rains. The Chariot had slid several meters away from the road and embedded itself within the forest, the unnatural moisture of the forest mixing with the artificial smell of burnt rubber. The trees and their sharpened branches looked black and sickly as if infected by some sort of disease. The ground had turned from a carpet of green to a bed of dry dirt, with the few surviving patches of grass turning a strange purplish hue.

The younger guardsman opened his door to come face to face with the infinite depth of the forest. Amidst the woods and the fog, he could feel something approaching from deep within. He aimed his pistol downrange, scanning for anything that moved. “Captain, how’s it looking?”

Light quickly walked around the edge of the car, thorns and brambles grabbing at his clothes as he inspected for damage. The Chariot’s titanium frame had held its own against the crash, sustaining only a few new scratches to its paint job. However, its large wheels were tangled in the undergrowth, vines of ivy as thick as a finger snaked in and around the undercarriage. “Vehicle is intact, but caught in something. Help me pull it out, cut us loose.”

“Roger that,” the young man said as he knelt beside the front-right tire.

With his right hand still clutching his pistol, he grabbed the closest vine with his left. Armor winced as the razor-sharp thorns pressed into his exposed palm, but he maintained his grip and pulled as hard as he could. The vine refused to break, but the man slowly managed to pull it back from the wheel. But as he managed to free the car from the strand, the ivy slipped through his grasp with a sudden shock of pain; the saw-like thorns had left a jagged cut on his palm that wept fresh, bright red blood. As Armor clenched his hand in pain, screaming under his breath, he looked back at the wheel: the vines slid amongst each other like a tangle of snakes before his very eyes, multiplying in both size and number with each passing second.

“Sir, the ivy is overrun the wheels. It’s no use!”

The orange truck pulled up in front of Captain Light. After a quick parking job off to the side of the road, a blonde ponytailed head peered through the driver’s side window. “Hey! We saw the crash. Are y’all okay?”

Captain Light swore under his breath. The situation was spinning out of control, and he knew it. “Negative,” he said, “we’re caught on the undergrowth, and it’s growing fast. Give Armor some help while I get Twilight out of the car.”

Applejack didn’t waste any time with the orders. She jumped out from the driver’s seat, leaving her car still-running in the middle of the road with a flustered Rainbow Dash in the passenger’s seat. Reaching for her sheath on her belt, she took her tactical knife in hand. As moved to Shining Armor’s side, the sight of the seven inch blade startled him, but he was relieved once he saw the blade was not turned against him. The ivy had already engulfed half of the tire and was threatening to consume the rest. Applejack sawed at the mass of snaking thorns with the serrated edge of her knife, but they were still losing ground. “Dangit, the vines ‘re too thick. We’d need a chainsaw to get through just one of ‘em.”

Shining Armor still clutched his bleeding hand as he stood up to provide overwatch for Applejack. Even as he felt the blood trickle from the palm of his hand down his wrist and arm, he would not be deterred. “We have to make a breakthrough soon. We can’t just stay here.”

The wheels now resembled the trunk of a fibrous tree, firmly planted to the ground in a single twisted body. The snaking ivy, not content with jamming the wheels, were beginning to travel up the body of the SUV as well, fingers of jaded green stretched across the sterling white metal. “Armor, there ain’t going to be any breakthrough with these things. The car’s lost, and there ain’t nothin’ we can do about it.”

“You don’t understand: the Chariot is too important to simply leave behind like scrap metal. We have to keep trying!”

“I am trying. It ain’t working.”

“Then try harder!”

A sudden bristling from the forest them drew their attention away from the ivy. Something was out there, and it was big. They couldn’t guess at what it was, only that it was now lurking in the underbrush for them, waiting for the perfect time to strike. There were signs of movement amongst the bushes and between the trees, but its crooked form was camouflaged amongst the dead foliage. Applejack and Shining Armor drew their pistols, ready to put down whatever monster came their way. But what they found was a pack of glowing yellow eyes, sets of razor-sharp teeth, and a series of blood-thirsty snarls.

Captain Light could still hear Applejack and Shining Armor trade comments when he reached the opposite side of the Chariot. He stood outside Twilight’s door, his hand grasped firmly on the handle. After the biometric scanners confirmed his identity, he flung the door open as hard as he could. What he saw inside made his gut sink. “Twilight?”

The man tossed everything in his mind aside as he clambered feverishly inside the cabin. The warm lights and bright aura were gone. The cabin was black, cold, still, and lifeless. Twilight sat upon the throne, but she did not move when called for. Captain Light wrapped his hands around the girl’s shoulders, shaking them with nervous urgency. He shouted her name, his face merely inches away from hers, yet her eyes refused to open.

The stalwart captain shook in his shoes as he stared at her. His mouth was agape, but no words could fill it with how he described. Shock and anguish compelled him to fall to his knees, and his eyes began to lose their focus as his tears began to well. But his devotion demanded that he keep trying.

Captain Light closed his eyes as he put his arms beneath Twilight’s body, ignoring the limpness of her limbs as he moved her out of the broken throne. Ducking his head as he stepped outside, he was greeted by the sour-smelling air and the rapidly-approaching fog. His training began to kick in, and Light placed her gently upon the dirt to begin CPR. With an audible waver in his authoritative voice, the man counted with each chest compression, “One, Two, Three, Four- come on, Twilight, stay with us…“

Twilight remained lifeless. In that moment, Captain Light chose to shut out everything else in the world. He couldn’t hear calling Rainbow Dash for Applejack, a hint of distress in her raspy tone. Nor did he see the fog that overwhelmed the group, causing Rarity and her car to disappear behind a wall of slate-grey haze. There were bursts of gunfire coming from within the fog, followed by the incoherent shouts of the unseen combatants, but Light paid no attention to them. None of that mattered to the devoted captain. All he could hear was the counting in his head.

“…nine, ten, eleven, twelve…”

He turned his head upwards, desperation ripe in his voice, “Knight Armor! Abandon the Chariot. It’s done for. I need you over here now!”

“…twenty three, twenty four, twenty five, twenty six…”

“Shining Armor, get over here!”

He continued with the compressions as if he would never stop, but each successive pump became harder to do. The feel of his trembling hands upon her lifeless body, pressing forcefully against her delicate chest as if it were a broken toy, was beginning to wear on him. He closed his eyes, throwing everything he had into the motions, but his efforts were slowing down. The grown man, vetted by years of experience, felt weak both physically and spiritually. He tried his best to continue CPR, but he felt his hands fall apart beneath him. He only stopped once he felt something upon his shoulder, the cold embrace of a distinctly feminine hand.

“Here we are again, Light,” the deep, familiar voice said. “Another position, another assignment. Another woman you couldn’t protect. I think I’m beginning to notice a pattern with you.”

The captain remained as still as a statue, looking straight into the nothingness that lie ahead of him. He refused to look at the woman standing over his shoulder, even as her black dress billowed in the wind. “If you expect me to beg for forgiveness, you will be sorely disappointed. You should leave, whilst you still can.”

A turquoise glow appeared suddenly around Captain Light’s neck, a magic collar strapped tightly against his skin. With a single tug of her balled fist against the collar’s chain, the choker tightened like a trap, strangling the air out of the man’s throat as he was forced onto his hands and knees. “Dogs do not give orders to their masters. You may have served the Umbra well for many years, but you are still a dog for turning your back on us when we needed you most.” The heels of her shoes clacked proudly against the asphalt road as she walked in front of her victim. “Fortunately, I am nothing if not a merciful master. The only reason you are still alive is because you are still useful to me.”

Captain Light could feel the collar disappear, his throat once again filling with breath. He tried to avert his gaze, but the woman would have none of that. Like a parent disciplining a stubborn child, the woman’s feminine fingers firmly grasped his chin and pulled him towards her. Midnight stared into the captain’s eyes with a level of intensity that was impossible to ignore.

”I will make you the same offer I give to all those who may still serve a purpose in my grand design. But do not foolish, for I will only offer you this one chance to redeem yourself. So, Captain Light, what do you value more: your loyalty, for your life?”

The very sight of Midnight’s face made the veteran guardsman’s blood run cold. Her eyes had changed into something unnatural. The round pupils had narrowed into vertical, catlike slits. The white sclera around the iris was tainted with a sickly sapphire tint. And the irises themselves shimmered with a cold cyan glow. This woman may have once been human, but all that Light could see was the monster that remained.

Captain Light had faced down many monsters in his time, and he was victorious every time. But a guardsman’s duty is not to kill, but to protect. He swore to protect Cell, the Network, and the values that the Illuminatus stood for. Even as he accepted his certain death, he knew that he would be victorious. “I make no qualms with what you plan to do. But I will not take innocent lives in order to preserve my own. I would rather die than swear loyalty to you. Any true guardsman would.”

A devilish scowl furrowed Midnight’s brow. She was disappointed, but hardly surprised at the man’s foolish pride. “As you so wish. Clearly, you will not beg to save your own life. But perhaps you will beg… to save hers.”

Captain Light found himself restrained by Nightmare’s magic, chains of light wound tightly around his arms and legs. He was trapped, forced to watch as Nightmare kneeled beside the unconscious girl. The woman delicately laid her free hand over Twilight’s heart. “Her vitals may be weak, but I can still feel her teeming with magical power. Allow me to demonstrate.”

The woman’s hands surged with her magical energies, resulting in a cascade of untapped energy transfer like an electric current. As her hand coursed with the magical energy, Twilight’s magical currents resonated as well. Bodies of fuchsia light emanated around her body, floating and twirling freely around its owner’s body. Twilight’s magic swirled and mixed with the violet glow, seemingly aware of its presence and probing the foreign current with an unbridled curiosity. Nightmare’s magic made its intentions clear as it suddenly smashed through the fuchsia bodies, smothering them into nothing. As the violet light wrapped around Twilight’s body, Nightmare’s corruption began to take control. The girl’s body began to shake violently as if to reject the invading energy. Shaking from her seizure, the unconscious girl let out an agonizing scream.

“Stop it! Let her go, Midnight!” Light demanded, every fiber of his being sickened by the sight. He struggled to slip free from the magical restraints, but it was impossible to physically overpower such magical power.

The woman chided as she watched the man struggle in vain. “Has the great Captain Light lost his strength? Does he no longer remember our ways?”

Light could not allow the procedure unfolding in front of him to continue, but he felt powerless to stop it. “I rejected magic when I rejected the Umbra. Your abuse of such power has made you this way. “

“And your neglect of your power has made you weak. But if you wish to save her, you must embrace the magic which courses through your veins. Her life rests in your hands.”

What Light saw next made his heart stop. Everything had stopped. The shaking. The magic. The screaming. All of it stopped. And in that moment, everything was dead still.

Light could bear no more. He closed his eyes. With a deep sigh, he reached deep within himself, and resigned himself to what he was about to do. His parting thought: “Celestia, forgive me.”

It had been years since Cell had banned the practice of magic within the Network, but Light had always been well versed in his own abilities. He felt a hint of power deep within him, a well untapped for quite some time. The captain focused his mind on that power, and he could feel it growing within. As it reached its peak, he could feel electricity in his fingertips, a glow in his mind, and a light in his soul. This was the power he had kept locked away for so long, the magic he had turned his back on. But no longer.

Nightmare’s chains proved to be no match, her magical restraints shattering under Light’s power. Light’s magic welled around his wrists with a cobalt glow, engulfing his hands as he readied his next strike. He shot to his feet, took aim with a raised fist, and prepared to meet his target. His magic burned with rage, a blue fireball engulfing his fist it shot towards Nightmare. But the dark woman’s cat-slit eyes noticed the man’s intentions. A moment before Light’s rage could deliver its blow, Nightmare’s figure disappeared into a turquoise mist that withdrew with a chilling breeze.

Light was standing alone in the street, completely surrounded by a sheet of impenetrable fog. He pulled his sidearm from his holster as his magic began to subside. He scanned his surroundings for any hint of Nightmare’s form. But all he saw was the misty grey haze that surrounded him. He knew he was alone, but the woman’s baritone voice left an ominous cackle in the wind.

And as he looked upon the helpless girl in front of him, he knew he was too late.

The weight of the realization brought the grown man to his knees, collapsing under the weight of his failure. The sight of Twilight’s body, her skin cold and pale, was too much for him to take. Every fiber of his being cried out in a scream of mixed emotions, sadness and rage mixed with guilt and remorse. Loss was something a guardsman becomes accustomed to, but nothing could have prepared him for a loss such as this. Light could not stop the tears as they poured from his eyes. He had locked his emotions away long ago, but now the weight of the years were overwhelming him. Years of sorrow. Years of anger. Years of secrets. Years of truths she would never know.

Light knelt over Twilight, struggling to look at her one last time. The pulses of corrupting magic had taken their toll on the young girl’s body. Her magical energy was all but smothered. Her black hair had faded to grey as if she had aged decades in mere moments. The surge of magic had forced her eyes open. Her brilliant violet irises were bleached to bone white, and a bloody tear streaked down her face. The man delicately wiped the crimson smear off of her cheek, the warm touch of his skin brushing against hers.

Then he found something that nearly made his heart burst from within his chest. He saw something in her eyes: a sparkle of light, feint but unmistakable. With a desperate hope, Light felt for a pulse. He felt one, weak and fading with every moment, but definitely there. But he also felt something else: Nightmare’s corruption.

A guardsman’s career is made up of many moments, decisions that would change the lives of those around them. While instinct relies on self-preservation, a guardsman’s training must reject that. The most important decision that a guardsman must make is their last: when he realizes that he must give his life in order to save another’s. For Light, captain of the Illuminatus Royal Guard, that moment was now.

Instinct guided Light’s hands towards Twilight’s heart, placing his hands upon her chest just as Nightmare had moments ago. Once more, the man focused within himself, reaching for the power within him. His hands began to rush with an ethereal glow, and his magic began to tap into Twilight’s magical current. Cobalt and fuchsia light emanated around her body once more, the girl’s magic notably weaker than before. But as her magic welcomed Light’s presence, another form made its presence known. Midnight’s turquoise magic began to appear as well, its corruption made evident by the blackened tendrils that infected it.

Light was sweating, his eyes losing focus on the mystical glows that surrounded him. Magic was taxing both physically and mentally, and the good captain was out of practice. But he had to press on. He doubled his efforts, causing his magic to surge through Twilight’s body. He opened his mind and body to the magical current, letting every bit of energy flow through him. He felt the power coursing through his veins, an electric storm that welled within his body that resonated within her as well. And more and more, he could feel the corruption coming closer and closer towards him. Just as he needed it to.

He could feel the corrupted form crawling around his hands like a mass of unearthed worms as he pulled the blackened energy away out of Twilight’s body. Sensing his presence, the corruption began to set into him. Light could feel his strong heartbeat wavering as a set of blackened fingers wrapped around his soul. But his plan was working, as signs began to return to the unconscious girl. As his skin began to pale, hers became healthy, magically restoring its color and mending her wounds. As his hair began to grey, hers became renewed with youth and color, boasting a different shine than before. And as his eyes grew tired from his exertion, hers did shut with a peaceful blessing of sleep. The last sliver of darkness had been cleaned.

Light felt a powerful presence overtake his mind. Inhuman screams echoed endlessly in his mind, and he was powerless to silence them. His heart was felt foreign as if it were a parasite beating endlessly in his chest. He clutched his head in agony, fearing it would split in two. He could feel magic surging through his fingers, but it was not by his doing. It was only a matter of time before the corruption took him too.

There was nothing more that could be done. Nothing except wait for his time to end. He held her close, cradling her in his arms amidst the haze that encapsulated them. Light could feel Twilight’s heart beating, innocent and pure, and he relished in every proud thump. Combing his fingers through her soft, straight hair, Twilight’s eyelids fluttered open for a moment before returning the girl her to peaceful slumber. Her violet eyes were vibrant and beautiful as her mothers’. Holding her close, the man found solace with himself.

Light reflected on his life. For everything that he had done, he found pride in serving a purpose. For a lifetime of neglect, he took comfort in his moment of redemption. And for a life that he will miss, he closed his hazel eyes, shedding a single, blood-red tear.

“I’m sorry, Sarah,” he whispered into her ear, “I’m so sorry.”

“Captain Light!”

Bang. Bang. Bang.

“Captain Light!”

The kid started shouting for his commanding officer since the attack first began. Ten minutes and two magazines later, he hadn’t stopped shouting. His voice sounded as hoarse as it did desperate, but that didn’t stop him. At least he could shoot and shout at the same time.

Spent .357 casings spilled out of their cylinders as Rarity reloaded her revolver. As she reached for additional rounds, she saw something nearby. A faint yellow glow peered back at her from the fog, and the sound of a hungry growl was heard through the air. “One over here!” she said, scrambling to load her weapon in time.

Shining Armor reacted with speed and precision. He spotted the pair of faint yellow specks in the corner of his eye, and the rest was a series of fluid movements. His feet pivoted and planted themselves firmly against the ground. His eyes centered on their target. His arms rose to bring his pistol to bear at just the right angle. And his fingers squeezed the trigger. It was a kinetic process that he had honed over months of training and tested several times that day.

The guardsman sent two rounds downrange with practiced ease, and the pair of yellow eyes disappeared. Rarity thanked him for the assistance, but he said nothing in return. The team might know next to nothing about him, but they had to admit: he could most definitely shoot.

With a flick of her wrist, the cylinders of Rarity’s revolver swung back into place with a satisfying snap. She looked around for other targets before catching up with the rest of the group. Shining Armor was searching for the others, leading MANE 3 on a walk down the cold, lonesome road. The team had long since left the safety of their cars, but it was too far to turn back now.

“Are you sure they’re this way?” Applejack asked.

An eerily thick fog rolled in as quickly as the convoy had, making it nearly impossible to see more than ten feet in any direction. It was hard to guarantee anything with such low visibility, but Armor had to trust his gut. “Yeah, they have to be. Those creatures didn’t drive us too far from the Chariot, so the captain and Twilight are bound to be-“

“Hey, I see something! Dead ahead!”

The team looked to the figure that was lying on the road. Rainbow Dash in particular expected another pair of hostile eyes to suddenly turn towards them. After a few close calls, she had learned that the creatures loved to leap at their prey from the fog. The finger on her trigger tensed as she moved in front of the group, anticipating jagged teeth and sharp claws. But as she drew close, she lowered her weapon with a sigh of relief. Applejack rushed in behind her, pistol drawn and at the ready; Rainbow carefully lowered Applejack’s aim, lest she accidentally put a bullet in the sleeping girl in front of them.

Shining Armor was the first to reach Twilight’s side, throwing caution to the wind. Seeing her lying motionless, he feared the worst. He called name and shaking her gently to no avail, but checking her pulse confirmed her heart was still beating. He was thankful for that before turning his attention to the team behind him. “Twilight’s fine, just unconscious, but we can’t afford to keep her around here for long. We should get her out of here as soon as we can.”

Rainbow Dash observed the wreckage of the Chariot nearby, its body damaged but intact. “She rode with you guys, right?”

The guardsman answered, “Yeah, why?”

“Because that means someone moved here.”

Shining Armor followed Rainbow’s eyeline, taking notice of the open side door. It hadn’t been too long, Twilight must have been moved recently. There was still a chance. The man stood up, emptying his pistol’s magazine and slapping in a fresh one. “Team, stay here and watch over Twilight. If I’m not back in five minutes, take her and move on without me.”

He turned his back to the group and started to march towards the fog, pistol in hand, when Applejack caught him by the arm. “And just where the heck do you think you’re going?”

“I’m looking for my commanding officer. If Captain Light still alive, he’ll be nearby, and I’ll find him.”

Applejack protested, “Armor, you gotta be either real brave or real stupid to head out there alone. You saw those wolves, those things weren’t natural.”

“Hey, I can handle myself. But Captain Light came looking for me; I won’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t do the same for him right now. Besides, you said your mission is to her, not me. Guess that means I’m expendable.”

‘Expendable’ was a word that Applejack didn’t like hearing, especially not in this context. She did not want to buy into Armor’s suggestion nor did she like the idea of putting him needlessly in harm’s way, but she knew she couldn’t stop him either. Besides, she understood that plight better than anyone. “Five minutes. Then we’re driving on out of here, with or without you.”

Armor nodded. “Thank you”, he said before bolting off to begin his search.

After Shining Armor disappeared behind a curtain of fog, Applejack walked back to her team. Rarity was providing overwatch while Rainbow Dash kneeled besides Twilight. The athlete waved to join her. “Hey AJ,” she said, “come look at this.”

The others shuffled in quickly, and she continued, “I was waiting for the hot shot to leave before bringing this up. Tell me, what’s wrong with this picture?” She motioned towards Twilight.

Applejack looked down at the unconscious girl. The answers were clear, but nonetheless baffling. She rubbed her eyes free of any illusions, but there was no denying what was in front of her. She slowly inched away from Twilight, taking a few steps back for good measure. “Whoa. When did that happen?”

“Recently. As in, after-we-started-driving-here recently.”

“The corruption of the forest and her being like this probably ain’t a coincidence, either.”

“Exactly. You think she’s a UNI?”

Applejack looked at her friend incredulously. “You’re actually suggesting she’s a witch?”

“Three out of the three signs match up. The unnatural hair color, unnatural eye color, mysterious occurrences… seems like textbook witchcraft to me.”

“Maybe. But then again, I’m talking to someone with rainbow hair and red eyes. And I’m sure hair dye doesn’t come in a color like Rarity’s. But I sure don’t see any of you two turnin’ people into frogs.”

“Yeah, but we’re different. We’re as human as you are. You can trust us. But the likes of her? We’ve all heard the stories. Who knows what she’s capable of?”

”You’re right, I have heard the stories. And they’re just that: stories. I don’t want to burn an innocent girl at the stake just because you think she’s a witch.”

“Hey, if you really don’t believe me, fine. But can you at least tell me what you plan to do about her?”

“About her? Nothin'. That girl ain't hurting anyone, and no one's gonna hurt her. She's the mission, simple as that.”

“That... that’s the plan? Seriously? What about Shining Armor? How do you know we can trust him? How do you know he hasn’t just run off without us?”

An answer came hurling at them from deep within the fog. The young man was tossed through the air like a ragdoll, his body landed gracelessly against the pavement before rolling to the side of the road nearby. A sudden attack had left their mark on him, his suit torn and his face red with blood and bruising. Despite his wounds, Armor was attempting to pick himself back up when a cackle could be heard on the wind.

A woman in a flowing black dress approached in an arrogant stride, the clack of her high-heeled shoes piercing through the fog. Her determined eyes set on her target, she had hoped to drive her foot into the back of the defeated guardsman. Crushing the last ounce of resistance from the young man would be an act she would revel every moment of. But as she stepped forward, the haze rolling back in her presence, she was greeted by three drawn pistols.

“Hold it right there,” Rainbow Dash ordered. “If you move it, you lose it.”

Nightmare’s curiosity was piqued with the introduction of the three unfamiliar faces. However, in the face of such a thread, she could only laugh. “And who might they be, Shining Armor? Friends of yours? More of Cell’s lackeys? Or just more scum to be washed away?”

“You’re one to talk, ain’t yah”, Applejack answered. “Introducing yourself by throwing a man across the room isn’t a great way of making friends.”

“Save your breath, peasant. I am only interested in what I have to gain, and I care not how I must acquire it. Give me the girl who lies at your feet, or you shall give up your lives as I take her by force.”

Applejack looked to the imposing form in front of them, the broken shell of a guardsman, and the unconscious girl at her feet. The pieces were starting to come together, and a desperate plan was beginning to form in her mind. “Rainbow, Rarity. How many rounds do you have left?”

“More than enough, dear,” Rarity said, trying her best to feign a confident grin to the threatening woman.

“Good,” Applejack said as she inched towards Twilight, “because we’re getting out of here after all. Cover me.”

The smug look on Nightmare’s face disappeared as she saw Applejack begin to carry Twilight away in her arms. Her cat-like eyes narrowed, and she aimed an accusing finger towards Applejack. “You fools wouldn’t dare...”

A single shot rang out. Nightmare’s pointed hand recoiled from the impact. As she clutched it in surprise, Dash could be heard chuckling to herself. “I warned yah.”

But this only served to anger the black-clad woman. Anger flashed upon her face, and her veins began to flow with focused magic. Rainbow jaw dropped as a violet glow suddenly flared from Nightmare’s hands. “What the he-“

Her words were cut short as a chain of light whipped forward from between Nightmare’s fingers, wrapping around her neck and strangling the breath right out of her. She was pulled from the group and into the waiting hands of the hostile woman. Standing just outside the periphery of the fog, Nightmare grabbed the athlete by the neck and lifted her off her feet with a single hand. And just as quickly as she had been pulled backwards, the Rainbow Dash was thrown forwards with enough force to nearly knock her out.

Rarity didn’t hesitate to attack. Her pistol rang out in a continuous stream of accurate fire. That volume of.357 magnum rounds would have been enough to take down a grizzly bear. But after her cylinders were spent and the gun smoke dissipated from her gun barrel, the woman was still standing seemingly unharmed. The bullets seemed to deflect off a violet glow that emanated from the woman’s hand. Such a feat should have been impossible, yet she could not deny what was standing in front of her.

Rarity’s surprise left her open to attack, and Nightmare quickly seized the opportunity. The seamstress was quick on the reload, but her opponent was quicker on the approach. As quickly as a storming wind, Nightmare darted to the lady’s position. She knocked the pistol to the ground with a single chop of her hands, following it up with a punch to the gut. Her magically-charged fist struck with the strength of a mule, knocking her opponent off balance long enough for Nightmare to grab her by her arms. And with an effortless toss of her arm, she flipped the grown woman over her shoulder as easily as one would throw away a piece of trash.

Applejack barely got to her feet with Twilight in hand before Nightmare had finished with her team. Within a few seconds, they were the only two left standing.

Magic flared once more, a glowing chain appearing suddenly in Nightmare’s hands. The chain launched towards Applejack, an open collar appearing at its front. The feel of heavy metal wrapped around Applejack’s neck, and the tightening clamp strangled the breath right out of her. Nightmare gave a sudden tug at the chain to throw her target off balance, and then slowly began to pull it all in. Applejack tried to fight back, her boots scraping gravel off the road as they struggled for traction, but there was no escape. “Your brazenness is matched only by your weakness. Once more, humanity has proven itself to be powerless against the likes of me.”

As the chain drew closer, Nightmare savored every inch between her and her prey. ”Do not think of this as a defeat; think of it as a lesson. Your world is changing beyond your control, and you are too weak to stop it. Instinct tells you to rebel, to maintain a world that no longer exists. But instinct is a primitive flaw, a folly of man. I embrace the change, the storm that will wipe away the weak and leave only the worthy. I will take my rightful place as the ruler of this world, and none will be able to challenge my power. “

Applejack could feel Nightmare’s wicked presence lingering over her, a shadowy tingling of pins and needles. With a final jerk of the magical chain, the cowgirl turned around, her neck falling into the grasp of Nightmare’s waiting hand. The magical chain and collar disappeared as the Umbra leader lifted her victim off her feet. Nightmare’s fingers tightened like a vice around Applejack’s throat, and a dark vignette was closing in around the weakened woman.

“My grand design is nearing completion, and there is nothing you can do to stop me. Your deaths will mean nothing, for I always finish what I start.”

A brave voice replied, “Then you should have finished me first.”

Nightmare turned to find the source of the voice, but she only met the enraged fist of a young, cobalt-haired guardsman. Shining Armor let out a war cry as the blow connected against her skull, sending the woman stumbling backwards. The magical chain reappeared in Nightmare’s hands, whipping it menacingly against the pavement before heaving her hand back to strike. But Armor reacted instinctively, bringing his HK45 pistol to bear and putting two rounds into her up-raised arm. The bullets struck her skin like a metal plate, pushing her back and interrupting her magical charge. But much to Armor’s dismay, the woman refused to fall. Nightmare was physically unfazed by the assault, but the look in her eyes regarded the young man’s presence as a challenge. A strong violet glow began to swirl aggressively around the Umbra leader as she began to approach her target. But the Illuminatus Knight refused to be intimidated. He dug his heels into the rain-wet ground, reloaded his pistol, and aimed down the sights once more.

Applejack was thrown to safety after Shining Armor landed his initial blow. She struggled for air as consciousness returned to her, but clarity came when she saw the guardsman in front of her, his pistol drawn on the menacing woman. He may have been beaten and bruised, but the fire in his eyes and a spark in his soul forced him back from the brink. He would not run from this fight.

In spite of how little they knew of each other and how little trust they shared, there was no hesitation in his voice when Shining Armor gave the order. “I’ll try to buy you some time. Take Twilight and get out of here! Move!”

Applejack was about to call out to him, but a curtain of fog closed between them. Even after stepping through it, the young man was gone. All that remained of his presence was the percussive sound of his pistol in the distance.

Rarity rolled off her back and onto her knees, gritting her teeth as she regained her composure. Rainbow Dash felt like she had been hit by a semi-truck, and her aching groans the only proof that she was still alive. The team was thankful to be alive, but there would be no time to lick their wounds. It was only a matter of time before the gunfire would fall silent, the distraction would end, and the nightmare would come hunting them once again.

She didn’t know if it was the best call she had made all day, or the worst. But given the circumstances, Applejack didn’t have a choice. “Girls! Get to your feet! We’re getting the heck outta dodge!”

Running, limping, retreating as fast as they could. Burdened with more questions than answers, MANE 3 made their way down the lonesome road. Cold air filled their tired lungs as they made their way back to their only change for escape. Their legs trembled with weakness and pain, but they forced themselves forward.

“We’re almost out of here,” Rainbow said, “just a little bit more!”

A furious storm had brewed in a matter of moments. The fog had been blown away by winds that lashed like a whip against any skin it washed over. Electricity filled the blackened sky, and claps of thunder rattled the eardrums of those nearby. The weather turned from mysterious to miserable in only a minute, and the women was caught in the middle of it all.

Hope appeared dimly through the fog, sets of red and white lights. The smell of exhaust had never been so satisfying, and the hum of the truck engine was music to their ears. Rainbow may have hated its color, but she was definitely glad to see the vibrant orange of Applejack’s truck. Rarity, on the other hand, always enjoyed the sight of her Mercedes.

Applejack closed with the rest of her team, still holding Twilight in her arms. Shouting over the sound of the wind and thunder, she said, “Rainbow, you’re with me. We’ll put Twilight here in the back seat then get out of here. Rarity, I might need help with the door. But afterwards, you take your car and you be right on our tail, y’hear?”

Rarity was holding her exposed arms, severely regretting her improvised alteration. “I presume that you wouldn’t be callous enough leave me behind were our circumstances switched, would you?”

Applejack was pretty sure that was a, “Yes”.

As the three approached the waiting truck, the plan went into action immediately. Rainbow was first, dashing ahead to take her place beside the passenger side door, watching for any signs of hostile movement. Rarity was next, maintaining as much grace as she in spite of the chaos that surrounded her. She opened the truck’s rear door for her friend, letting the warm, fruit-scented air from the cabin waft over her. Applejack carried up the rear, hefting Twilight the last few feet to the side of the rear doors. Just as her arms began to burn with exertion, the cowgirl placed the unconscious girl in the back seat as delicately as she could, hoping her guest wouldn’t wake up and notice the rifle lying on the floor.

The rear door closed, securing their precious cargo inside. Applejack turned to Rarity, “Thank you much. Now, let’s get out of here.”

Doors opened and closed in unison as Applejack and Rainbow Dash entered the truck. Rarity’s car was only a stone’s throw away, twenty or thirty feet behind them. It would only take a few seconds for her to get back to her car, and they would be home free. Applejack vigilantly watched her friend through the rear view mirror, her fingers wringing the grips of the steering wheel. The engine idled patiently while Rainbow Dash counted the seconds of stillness that passed. One second. Two seconds. Three…

And then, in the distance, she saw something. As the wind whipped around her, Rarity stopped in her tracks as an angelic blue light could be seen. Flickering like a firefly, the luminous sprite hung brightly in the air, cutting through the darkness like no other light had. The stylish woman couldn’t tear herself away from the heavenly display.

Through the truck’s rearview mirror, Applejack and Rainbow Dash’s view of the captivating light was blocked by their friend’s body. All they could see was the peripheral glow of the ominous light silhouetting Rarity’s curvy form. But more importantly, they saw that she wasn’t moving, seemingly hypnotized by its beauty.

“What in the name of-“

“Something’s wrong. I’m going for her!”

Applejack’s protests were drowned out by the rushing winds as Rainbow Dash opened the car door and jumped outside. The world had turned into a wind tunnel, and taking a simple step forward felt like pushing through a constant wave of rushing water. The athletic woman was strong enough to push forward, but were the winds any stronger they would have blown her off her feet. She cried out for her friend, but the thunder drowned out her voice every time. Rainbow kept pushing forward, one step at a time, keeping the awestruck Rarity in her sight.

Suddenly, the light began to shimmer with renewed vigor. A spark had ignited a massive blaze from the heart of the fog, and the light grew exponentially in both size and intensity. The bright light was expanding out of control, its sheer brightness forcing the three to shield their eyes.

Rainbow was the first to feel the faint shaking in the ground, and she realized what was going to happen next. Her priorities switched from steadiness in an instant, and she bolted as quickly as she could to her friend. The experience could only be described as sprinting through an ocean: gusts so strong they made breathing impossible, light so bright it forced your eyes closed, waves of wind so strong you had to force yourself through them. But to Rainbow Dash would not be deterred, throwing everything she could into the twenty five foot sprint. Speed was a lifestyle, and she was well versed.

Blinding blue light overwhelmed them as the approaching shockwave shook the ground beneath their feet. Time seemed to slow as Rainbow came within arm’s reach of her friend. Leaping the remaining distance, she wrapped her arms around Rarity’s shoulders, forcing them both to the ground. As they landed, Dash positioned her back towards the light, shielding her friend from the oncoming blast.

Rainbow held onto Rarity. Rarity hugged her friend tightly. And Applejack secured her seatbelt and prayed her truck would hold. All three women closed their eyes and braced themselves.

The shock wave struck only a heartbeat afterwards. Even with their eyes closed, light bled through and left their eyes blind with cleansing white light. The shockwave struck everything like a sledgehammer, sending their cars lurching forward several feet. The earth trembled for what felt like minutes afterwards, a constant shaking that seemed to never stop. There was a duet of sound both high and slow: a deep bass of the earth shaking paired with an angelic soprano note that rang in their ears from an unearthly source, playing within earshot before rising in pitch to outside their spectrum. And to the ones who were outside, a most unusual sensation: a warm, radiant glow paired with an electric tingle seemed to resonate from within their very soul. Was that an explosion? If it was, it was a blast unlike anything they had ever seen.

When the team opened their eyes, it was like they had entered an entirely different world. Everything seemed… normal. The skies were peaceful, and the storm had all but disappeared. The fog that had plagued them for so long was gone, leaving a clear view of the world around them. The twisted forest had changed back into an innocuous stretch of thick woodland, lush with greenery and life. There was no hint of Shining Armor, Captain Light, or the woman in black; they were all alone.

In the reverent silence that followed, no one said a word. They looked to each other, finding an expression- equal parts confusion and awe- that matched their own, and knew that they were all at a loss for words. And as they gathered their wits and piled back into their cars, they knew that something miraculous had occurred.

The storm had been beaten back, leaving behind a hint of the world as it was supposed to be. The darkened clouds had been burned away, leaving behind a flawless cobalt sky. The day was dusky and late, but the night would be dark and beautiful. The sun had already set, and there was no moon to replace it. But in their stead, the twilight of stars would light the path home.

Author's Note

It has been 17 months since my last chapter. To be honest, I'm surprised I'm even still posting after all this time. Heck, if you're still reading this after all this time... wow, I'm impressed.

This chapter was particularly difficult for a number of reasons.

Firstly, I realized that while the introduction of Light and Shining Armor was cool to do, they complicated planning of future chapters. It's really hard to make plot points and character moments work when you have two spare characters (who, mind you, were not present in the pilot episode) just lying around. As such, it was decided that I should remove them, and I thought now would be easiest time to do so.

Secondly, I wanted to get the plot back and rolling. This is partly associated with the above point, but I personally think that Chapters 8 and 9 weren't really helpful for the plot, since they didn't move things forward so much as they helped flesh out characters; ideally, a good story would incorporate both into any chapter. Those chapters were nice to write, but I feel like they're "holding pattern" chapters, and as such I needed to refocus the story; I mean, we're 10 chapters in and we haven't actually met Fluttershy nor Pinkie Pie.

Third, in order to accomplish all of the things I described effectively, plus establishing context and information for the next chapters, I needed to cover a lot of ground with the narrative. Notice the six line breaks? That means that there are technically seven different scenes in this chapter, which is a lot considering my previous chapters. I considered cutting it into a two part chapter, but I felt like that would be too disruptive and instead opted for a longer chapter. Hope it isn't too long to read...

Lastly, I've more or less moved on from writing fiction in general. No motivation to do so except for the story ideas I want to share, and that nagging feeling when I leave something incomplete. So fair warning: this may be the last chapter before the story goes on indefinite hiatus.

As always, thank you loyal readers for the support! Even after 2+ years, I'm glad to know that dear readers still remember and care about this story.

Chapter 11: An Empty Nest

Her heart raced to the rhythm of the powerful pounding at her door; nothing good ever came with knocks as urgent as that.

The veterinary clinic was closed to the day, and the woman wasn’t expecting any visitors. The excitement had riled up her friends, furred and feathered alike, sending them all into a frenzy of movement: dogs barked in reply, cats disappeared beneath furniture, birds darted around their cages, and a lone tortoise had turned upside-down in the chaos. As the woman walked into her living room, the animals all looked to her, confusion and fear in their eyes. She softly shushed to calm them down, whispering softly as her graceful hands calmed their quivering bodies. This was her personal reassurance that everything would be alright, that everything would be fine. That promise of peace was broken by the drumming at the door.

The demure woman opened the door to her immediate dismay. A man no older than twenty years old stood at her doorstep, his head shaven and his hands clutching his gun. His mud-brown eyes were nervous but focused. His rifle’s sling was too small while his combat vest was too big, causing him to fidget as he tried to maintain his authoritative posture. Perhaps the only thing that fit him properly was the navy blue cloth band that wrapped around his left arm, the letters “USF” were printed in white on its side for all to see. But regardless of how the young recruit may have looked, he had the woman’s full attention; whatever this man had to say, it was sure to be bad news.

Standing a full head taller than her, the man looked down at her head of pink hair as he recited his practiced message. “Ma’am, I’m afraid the area around Pleasantville is no longer safe. Our orders are to get every citizen to safety. Pack a bag of necessities, leave everything else behind, and head into town to join the evacuation as soon as possible.”

Her turquoise eyes widened to the size of dinner plates as she let out a gasp in shock. Her thoughts were reeling with new worries and fears . But for all the nervous questions that she had, the only one that managed to escape her lips was the most important: “But what about them?”

The recruit looked at the woman, then to the animals behind her. As he turned his eyes down towards her, his answer was devoid of thought, feeling, or emotion. “’Leave everything else behind’.”

The words continued to ring in her ears, even hours after they had been said. They had left her. Or perhaps she had left them. Her home was empty now. Abandoned. No barks, mews, or tweets from her animal friends. Just the lonely stillness of an empty nest.

All she had now was a well-worn suitcase lying open on her bed. She didn’t have much to pack, but she felt heavy with baggage. She didn’t want to leave. She didn’t want to abandon her animal friends. And she didn’t understand why any of this was happening. But she didn’t have a choice in the matter, nor could she do anything else. The only thing she could do is to pack her bag, lock her door, and join the others as they leave everything behind. It was not be her first time, but she prayed it would be her last.

That’s when she heard her door knocking once more. There was no knowing what to expect, but surely it couldn’t be worse news.

Answering the door a second time, she found another woman standing on her porch, athletically thin but breathing hard. While the woman’s face was downturned, her iconic hair sparked a flame of countless memories. Droplets of sweat dripped heavy from the colorful blades before the woman could muster the courage to look her in the eye. It had been years since they last talked, years more since they last met, and a lifetime ago when they first met; this was a heck of a way to make up for lost time.

But the kindly woman in the doorway didn’t feel the same way. She threw herself onto her old friend, wrapping her arms around her for a long-deserved hug. But, even in the cloud-like softness of her sweater’s embrace, she could feel that there was something wrong. The rainbow-haired woman didn’t return the hug, choosing to remain stiff and hesitant. Her teeth had been biting her lower lip the entire time, anxious to admit her true intentions. This meeting was borne from desperation, not loyalty.

“Fluttershy,” Rainbow Dash said, “I need a favor.”

It had been a long time since anyone had called her that.

Rarity always kept a simple sewing kit in her purse in case of any fashion emergencies, be they a torn seam or a broken button. As she sat on the sofa in Fluttershy’s cozy living room, she worked passionately to mend a particular piece of clothing back together. Her needlework was precise and deliberate, no easy task with adrenaline still coursing through her veins, but the seamstress kept her focus on the cloth in her hands. The ivory white dress shirt would have been discarded had it not fallen into the seamstress’s possession. It was her capable hands that felt the plushness of American Pima cotton instead of the coarseness of its severed fibers. It was her capable eye that saw the delicate golden needle-lace trims beneath the rustic brown of dried blood. And it was her judgment that decided that this shirt was worth saving. Even if it did belong to a UNI.

Rarity’s focus was hardly bothered by the hefty sound of approaching boots. Applejack appeared from the nearby hallway, captivated by the hardwood floor beneath her feet. Fluttershy’s cottage reminded her of the farmhouse back home, right down to the way the floorboards creaked as you walked over them. But after seeing Rarity seated alone on the couch, the blonde woman decided to join her friend in the living room.

“Hey,” she said, sinking into a nearby armchair, “heck of a day, huh?”

“Mhm”, her friend replied.

The cowgirl couldn’t help but smirk as Rarity was busy with her needlework. Maybe it was the way she looked so intensely through her tiny red glasses, as if she were sewing through a microscope, which she found humorous. “So…whacha got there?”

“Oh, this?” The seamstress paused, lifting the dress shirt up to show. “Why, let’s call it a gift.”

“’A gift, huh? Well that’s mighty kind of yah, but I’m already wearing a shirt, thank you very much.“

Rarity rolled her eyes at her friend’s attempt at sarcasm before continuing her work. “Not quite, my dear. This gift is for Twilight. If we no longer need to mend her wounds, the least I can do is mend her clothes. And besides, there is no excuse for a lady to be so exposed in civilized society. “

Now it was Applejack’s turn to go, “Mhm.”

It seemed like the conversation was over, and Rarity could go back to focusing on the task at hand. But her friend disagreed, striking up another chat before the last one could even be settled. “And how’s the sewing business?”

“Could be doing better, I’m afraid. It’s been quite difficult finding the proper clientele, and it’s even harder to run a boutique out of your bedroom. I’d like to open a proper store somewhere, really make my presence known in the city. But alas, no such luck.”

Once again, Applejack’s reply was a half-attentive, “Mhm.”

Once again, a moment of silence lingered as the previous conversation died down.

And once again, she struck up another chat now long afterwards.

“So… what’s your latest design look like?”

Rarity emphatically set down her needle, thread, and nearly-finished shirt. “Applejack,” she said, peering over her red-rimmed spectacles, “is there something on your mind?”

Such a direct question had caught her off guard. “Wha- What makes you say that?”

“In the two years that we’ve worked together, this is the first time you have ever taken an interest in my sewing, my business, or my designs. Yet you’ve managed to stumble across all three in one awkward waltz of forced small talk. So be direct with me, dear: what’s on your mind?”

Applejack considered feigning a new-found interest in fashion to justify her fumbling discussions, but they both knew that wouldn’t get far. Rarity had hit the nail on the head, and there was no more dancing around the topic now. The cowgirl delicately placed her hat in her lap, her fingers gently wringing its brim.

“Did I make the right call?”

Rarity’s head tilted in confusion, “I’m sorry?”

“Well, like before. We always thought that Twilight might have been the source of the corruption, right? But that woman, the witch in black, had some serious power behind her. Stuff that myths are made of. I’m wondering if she was the true source after all.”

“Perhaps,” she replied, regaining her composure, “but perhaps not. We just don’t know enough to be certain of it, and I certainly hope you are not considering going back and hunting her down to find out.”

“No, ‘course not. That didn’t exactly work out so well before. But I don’t want to risk having the corruption spreading any further than it already has.”

“That UNI woman seemed quite intent on capturing Twilight. Maybe she has a key to stopping her.”

“Or maybe she really is the source of the corruption- the source of that witch’s power. And what if our mission was supposed to be stopping Twilight and all of this in one fell swoop? The picture we got could have been a hit order. I’m sure you’ve taken orders like that, right?”

The very thought of having to kill Twilight put a sour taste in Rarity’s mouth. But her friend was correct: she had taken jobs like that before. “I suppose we just don’t know enough. Perhaps we’ll get some answers from her when she wakes up.”

“Yeah. ‘spose so.”

Applejack’s fingers nervously tapped against the leather Stetson while Rarity calmly returned to their needlework. “You know, for someone who was nearly killed by a UNI a few minutes ago, you’re awful calm about all this.”

The seamstress gave only a sly grin in reply. Everyone has their outlets. Some fight. Others smoke. And if she recalled correctly, Applejack used to drink. But a lady should never stoop to such miserable vices. Instead, no matter how hard her hands would shake or how hard her heart would beat, Rarity always chose to sew.

“I am still amongst the living thanks to you,” she said, putting her needle down one last time. “I have no doubt that woman would have killed us the moment we gave into her demands. Your denial of her- paired with Shining Armor’s noble sacrifice- was what it took to remove us from such an unsavory end. So yes, my dear, I think you made the ‘right call’.”

Applejack’s uneasiness dissipated as Rarity placed her hand gently on her knee. Her friend’s indigo hair cascaded like a sheet across her down-turned face before curling delicately atop her dainty shoulders, framing a reassuring smile and an expression that begged the question, “would you like me to continue?” As much as Applejack would have liked to have her ego massaged even further, hearing her friend’s vote of confidence was enough for her. She smiled in thanks for the reassurance.

As the anxiety began to melt away, Applejack’s felt a pit in her stomach. A glimpse at her watch told her it was well past lunch time, and her body was all too eager to remind her. The last thing she remembered eating was a slice of toast from her farm’s kitchen that morning before she departed under the pre-dawn darkness. She didn’t recall seeing any of her teammates eating either; they were probably just as hungry as her. Without a word, the cowgirl stood to her feet, a move that beckoned a questioning look from Rarity.

“I reckon we’ll be staying here for a while,” she said, setting her hat on top of her head, “and it wouldn’t be right to raid a stranger’s fridge. I’mma head into town, pick up some chow, maybe scope out the local security. Unless the USF decide to put me in detention, I shouldn’t be long.”

“Would you like me to pitch in a few bucks, dear?”

“Appreciated, but nah. I just need someone to be watching the premises for me while I’m gone.”

Rarity turned towards the living room window and the placid field beyond. With a backdrop of amber clouds and violet shadows, the world seemed placid and still. “I have an open view of the field from here. Everything looks fine to me.”

The front door creaked open, letting a cold draft of air sneak inside the cottage. Outlined by the wooden doorframe, Applejack could see the dusk sky awaiting her. “Yeah. Here’s hoping it stays that way.”

The rustic cottage was cozy and small, but the memories were packed tight. Hints at Fluttershy’s life were scattered throughout her home. Rainbow Dash wandered through the cozy cottage, trying to piece together a picture of her old friend’s life from the years they’ve spent apart.

A veterinary practitioner certificate in her living room, hanging proudly on an empty stucco wall. A medical clinic built from a spare room, well stocked but sparsely used. An unfinished wall painting of three butterflies along the stairs to the bedroom, their wings only partially filled with their bright pink hue. Numerous animal beds, recently used but now abandoned. A single bed in her bedroom, lying on its lonesome in the center of the room. A familiar white-furred stuffed rabbit, gingerly loved and lying comfortably on a pillow. And a half-empty suitcase beside her dresser, preparing her to leave all of it behind.

But the item that stood out most for Rainbow was a photograph, adorned in a handmade wooden frame. It was the only photograph in the house, standing alone on the writing desk in Fluttershy’s bedroom. The photo itself was old and wrinkled from wear, but its color hadn’t faded at all. Kept separately from the assortment of keys, notes, and clutter, it was a picture that preserved a sacred memory. It was a picture from another time. It was a picture of them.

She couldn’t remember the exact date or location the picture was taken. Fluttershy looked to be about 12, herself a little older, both clad in the sky-blue uniforms that they had worn since they were children. Dash couldn’t help but snicker at the stupid face she was doing, her eyes crossed and her tongue hanging from her mouth as the camera flash captured that moment in time. Her friend was hiding behind a curtain of her pink hair to avoid embarrassment, but even she couldn’t hold back an adorable smile. Life was different then, simple and fun, but no less difficult. In the distance were rigid steel buildings buried beneath a blanket of fresh snow, the familiar foreground to an endless horizon of clouds.

The memories made Rainbow Dash gingerly run her hand across the back of her neck, her fingertips easing across her skin. But she froze as they felt the metal anchored into her flesh. Like a bolt of lightning appearing from darkness, the sensations flashed through her mind: the lightness of the mountain air, the electrical surge as she felt her wings flap, the freedom she felt as she soared like a bird. The brash woman quickly jerked her hand away, returning her to the miserable present.

None of that mattered now. Cloudsdale was a lifetime away, and the athlete preferred to keep it that way; she used to be certain that Fluttershy did too. But as she looked at the picture, Rainbow Dash realized how differently their perspectives were. In spite of her proud childhood, she had buried her past to forget the bad memories; in spite of her difficult childhood, her friend was preserving her past to remember the good ones.

The floorboards behind her creaked unexpectedly. Dash hastily put the picture back on the desk, nearly knocking an assortment of other items onto the ground in the process. The woman turned, finding a friend in the butter-yellow sweater standing in the stairway to her own bedroom.

“Oh. Hey Fluttershy,” Rainbow Dash said, leaning against the desk as innocently as she could. “I was just- uh- looking for the bathroom. What’s up?”

Fluttershy didn’t seem to question her friend’s intentions; perhaps she really was searching for the bathroom. But it didn’t take a detective to infer that Rainbow Dash was inspecting the picture of them together. She wondered if Rainbow remembered what it was like to have her wings; she wondered if her friend knew she had kept hers.

As the fawn-like girl cast her cyan eyes to the floor, her toes tapped nervously against the wooden floorboards. “The girl you brought in,” she said, “she’s awake.”

Once again, the studious student found herself in yet another foreign place without her knowledge. The building itself was quaint and wooden, a pleasant scent of pine wafting through the air. The wooden structures were likely made from the local trees, man-made continuations of the forest outside the window. Ornamental designs of spirals, hearts, and flowers had been carved into the woodwork, a task that must have required much delicacy and time. There wasn’t a computer, phone, or radio in sight, and the only evidence of electricity usage was a naked lightbulb dangling freely from the ceiling. Were all homes of the outside world as simple yet cared for as this? It was a question that Twilight would have jumped at the chance to explore.

But right now, Twilight did not need to be a student; she needed to be a survivor.

They had attempted to gain information from her numerous times. Each time, she answered with silence. The living room grew more tense as patience dwindled. Rainbow Dash reclined on the couch, casually placing her feet upon the coffee table. She slicked her hands through her colorful hair as she concluded, “You don’t say much, huh?”

Rarity, seated beside her brash cohort, tutted in reply. “Dash, you needn’t be so blunt. She’s been through quite a lot today already.”

She replied with an indifferent shrug. “Doesn’t mean she can’t talk.”

The comment made Twilight purse her lips twice as hard.

Say Nothing.

Fluttershy returned from the kitchen, a stack of cups in one hand and a kettle in the other. She placed a cup in front of each person sitting in her living room, softly setting each cup down with a natural form and grace. As the demure woman began to pour a colored liquid into the cups, she said, “I apologize if the tea isn’t seeped fully. When the United Security Forces arrived, they told us that they were evacuating the town. I’m in a bit of a rush, and I’m so sorry about that.”

“Oh, no need to apologize, my dear. We are all indebted to your kindness and hospitality, and we shan’t be a burden for much long.” Rarity raised her mug and breathed deeply, her face beaming as the steam reached her nose. “And my goodness, that tea smells positively exquisite.”

Rainbow Dash followed suit, taking a quick sip for good measure as well. As the tea flowed through her senses, her frustrations melted away. “Oh wow, you weren’t kidding. This? I don’t know what this is, but it’s good.”

Fluttershy beamed sheepishly, thanking the two for their compliments. The kettle moved towards Twilight’s cup, filling the ceramic mug to the brim with a rich honey-colored liquid. “Please, try some… if that’s alright with you.”

The pungent smell of chamomile and peppermint wafted from the rising steam. The savory smell made Twilight’s empty stomach rumble with anticipation; she hadn’t eaten anything since that morning. But as tempting as the offer was, the young woman declined as politely as she could. Hearing the words, “no thank you” was met with a hint of disappointment through the group. But Twilight felt it was the right choice. She was doing what she had been told.

Do Nothing.

Twilight couldn’t shake the fact that she was feeling less like a guest and more like a prisoner. It was hard to ignore the stares of the three women, whom seemed all too concerned about her wellbeing.

The woman with the purple curls seemed the most forward with her interest in her. Twilight’s school uniform sat in its owner’s lap, a present of mixed signals. Each article had been repaired of damage and folded neatly, but they had not yet been cleaned of their earlier stains; a signal, perhaps? It would not have been surprising if Rarity’s gift held an ulterior motive, perhaps to lull her into a false state of comfort and confidence. Twilight couldn’t help but notice the way she would steal a keen stare at the severed handcuff on her left wrist, like a jewelry appraiser eyeing her latest shipment of diamonds. Perhaps Rarity was already putting the pieces together. Or perhaps she knew more than she says.

The athlete seemed the least interested in Twilight, with her attitude bordering on agitation at times. The disdain could hint at her overall mission. Maybe she was their hostage, nothing more than an item to be held against her will. Maybe she was an asset, and Twilight just wasn’t what she was expecting. Maybe Rainbow Dash believed the young woman was a spy. But whatever the case, it was hard to ignore the tendency she had to drum her hands to the rhythm of an imaginary song against the side of her polymer holster. The sight of her pistol- holstered or not- made Twilight tense whenever she saw the lithe woman move.

The other woman barely spoke, preferring to hide behind the pink curtain of her hair than to speak up. They may be guests in her house, but she always managed to retreat from attention. She seemed less like a participant, and more like a pawn in whatever plan they were about to enact.

Applejack was the only one who seemed trustworthy. Her absence was conspicuous.

And she wasn’t the only one who was missing.

The only thing that remained of the guardsmen was Captain Light’s jacket, which she wore like a cloak to protect her modesty. As she pulled the lapel close to her chest, she grasped something hard against the cloth. It was a golden pin, a shield emblazoned with a shining sun. It was the emblem of the Illuminatus Royal Guard, a symbol that instilled pride and honor to those deserving enough to wear it. But as Twilight looked at the pin, she could only remark at how small the shield was in her hand.

Trust no one.

In the silence that followed, the rotor thumps of a distant helicopter were a welcome distraction. Reminded of her previous task, Fluttershy quietly excused herself from the living room. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I really must pack my bags. The USF will be evacuating people soon, and I would hate to keep them waiting.”

Rainbow Dash gave her friend a complacent wave, “Eh. Worse comes to worse, you can always leave with us. Do you need some help packing?”

Fluttershy smiled in appreciation, and the two of them left for the bedroom. But before leaving the living room, Rainbow Dash stopped behind Twilight, mouthing the words “watch her” to Rarity with accompanying hand gestures. Subtlety was not the athlete’s strong suit, and Rarity rolled her eyes at Dash’s emphatic pointing. Still, the suggestion was solid. The violet-haired lady nodded in reply.

But returning her gaze towards Twilight made her think otherwise. While her photograph had shown her to be prim, perfect, and pleased, the girl in front of her was a picture of misery. With the grime on her skin and a grimace on her face, she surely looked as bad as she felt. Rarity empathized with the poor girl, sensing her desire to be alone during such a tumultuous time. If that’s what it would take to make her comfortable, then it would be unladylike to deny her that.

Rarity softly cleared her throat to draw Twilight’s attention. “Once Applejack returns, I am sure we will be back on the road once more. But until then, I suppose there’s no need to keep you adhered to that armchair. You’re free to wander around the cottage if you’d like, darling.”

It didn’t convince her she wasn’t a prisoner, but Twilight was happy to accept Rarity’s offer. Looking down at the folded clothes on her lap, she rubbed her fingers across the familiar fabric and their newly sewn stitches. “May I use the bathroom?” she asked in a subdued voice.

Taking one last look at the girl’s state of grime, Rarity immediately answered, “Why of course. There is a restroom down the hall if you wish to wash up and get changed. I’m sure no one will mind if you use the hot water for a wash, either; I’m sure I’ll need a nice, long bath too after today is done.”

With a sign of relief, Twilight took to her feet, clothes in hand. “Thank you,” she said before disappearing down the hallway.

Rarity smiled and nodded in reply, before turning her attention back to her post.

A pick-up truck pulled into the rear of the cottage, its vibrant orange color made all the more noticeable against the lush greenery around it. It might not be as fast as Rainbow’s bike nor as ritzy as Rarity’s Mercedes, but Applejack was nonetheless happy her truck. It was simple, robust, and dependable, and that’s all that she has ever wanted from her equipment. Heck, it was a luxury to have such a car at all.

Applejack approached the cabin not too long after her initial departure, her stomach grumbling with anticipation. Hefting a canvas bag in one hand, she was thankful to find the front door slightly ajar. She gently pushed it open, the wooden squeal announcing her return.

Rainbow greeted Applejack the instant she made it through the doorway, drawn by the promise of food. Even before Applejack had a chance to put the goods down onto the kitchen table, Dash was already reaching in to the bag. But as continued to feel around, Rainbow began to grow suspicious. Only after she looked inside were her suspicions confirmed.

“Apples?” she asked, “That’s all you got?”

“Yep,” Applejack said, pulling one such green-skinned fruit from the bag. “Met a man who was lookin’ to sell the last of his produce before jumping on the next truck out of town. I made him an offer, and he sold me the basket’s worth for a few bucks. Good deal, if ya ask me.”

Rainbow looked at her friend, at the bag of fruit, and then back again. “What is with you and apples?”

She shrugged. “What can I say? It’s in my blood.”

Applejack sealed the conversation with a sly grin, followed by a generous bite of the apple in her hand. As soon as she began to chew the chunk of fruit, she immediately regretted her decision. The flesh was mealy, tough, and tasteless, akin to eating a sponge taken from the kitchen sink. That thing had no right being called an apple. In spite of her modesty, Applejack knew that any apple from her family’s orchard was a whole hog’s worth better than whatever that thing was. But her stomach wasn’t as discerning as her tastebuds, and she forced herself to swallow the disgusting morsel.

Dash didn’t seem to mind the taste. As usual, she devoured her serving in a flash before reaching into the bag for a second helping. “Did the security in town give you any trouble?”

“Thankfully, no,” she said between mouthfuls. “USF’s out in force, though. Estimating thirty men at the least in town, and no doubt there are more on the way. Seems like they’re pulling out all the stops for this evacuation.”

“I’ll say. There’s been a chopper buzzing around for a while now. Have you seen it?”

“Yeah. A Kiowa Warrior, I believe it’s called. Last time I saw a helo like that, I was still wearing the blue band. From the way it’s flying, it’s probably running reconnaissance.”

“I saw some guns and rockets on it too, though. I think they’re looking for a fight. Think it’ll give us trouble?”

“Not if we don’t give it a reason to. But it has me a mite worried. Whatever’s going on must be pretty serious if the USF are flying one of their last working helicopters.”

“Yeah. That’s what I’m afraid of.”

The last sentence caught Applejack’s ear: ‘I’m afraid’ wasn’t something she normally heard from her hot-headed friend. But as she looked up from her tasteless apple, she found Rainbow Dash staring straight at her. The spark of determination never seemed to fade from those rose-colored eyes, but the woman herself was not nearly as direct. There was anger and focus her narrowed brow, but fear and distraction in her softened eyes. Whether it was due to her contact with the woman in black, or her reunion with her old friend, Dash seemed to have lost sight of her target.

Applejack could sympathize. Her heart wanted to let Dash off the leash, to go back into the forest with rifles in hand, to hunt down the woman in black, to save the town and its inhabitants. Her brain reminded her that such a move would be suicide, and that they would be no good to anyone if they were dead. It was that feeling of powerlessness that lent itself to a sense of failure; they were powerless to stop the woman in black, to stop the corruption, and to stop the darkness from spreading. Applejack searched for words of reassurance, something to rally the troops and instill Rainbow with hope and focus. But alas, no such inspiration struck: they were going to be lost together.

The only words that came to Applejack’s ears were Rarity’s, the whine-like pitch catching her attention. There would be knocking at the bathroom door, followed by a few pleading words, followed by yet more knocking. In lieu of inspiration, the cowgirl found a distraction. “Say, Rainbow? What the hey is Rarity beating on that poor door for?”

“I dunno. Maybe it insulted her outfit.”

“Well, in that case, maybe we should go help.”

"Help Rarity?"

"No, the door. Come on, let's go see what's up."

Applejack and Rainbow Dash began to move towards the source commotion. Turning the corner from the kitchen to the hallway, the two of them found Rarity glaring daggers at the closed door in front of her. She raked her frustrated hands through her once-immaculate hair as Fluttershy watched nervously from further down the alleyway. In between the staccato notes of knocking, the sound of running water can be heard inside the bathroom.

Taking another round of deep breaths- no doubt one of many she’s used to compose herself-, Rarity knocks on the door and begins to plea once more. The sweetness in her voice soured with agitation, “I understand if you’d like some time alone, but there are more comfortable places for that, you know. Please, just talk to me. Let us help you.”

Rainbow stepped forward. “What the heck is going on here?”

Rarity didn’t even bother to turn towards her friend as she appeared to be focusing all of her anger towards the door. “It’s Twilight. She went to the restroom to wash up and change, but now she won’t respond to me. And I must admit that such rudeness quite unbecoming!”

“Well, how long has she been in there?”

“Fifteen, twenty minutes, perhaps?”

“Oh jeez. Here, let me try to talk to her.”

Rainbow Dash tried to push her way towards the door, only to be intercepted by Rarity. “Now you wait just a minute! While I’m sure that our intentions are well-meaning, I do not believe Twilight would be receptive to your… bluntness.”

“Look, we can’t wait around all day talking about our feelings. Give me a sec, and I’ll get her out of there.”

“I’m sorry, Rainbow Dash, but I cannot allow that in good conscience. You must understand, this is a very delicate situation, one that requires both grace and finesse in order to-“

Crack!

The door flew open with explosive force, its wooden surface now marred by a dirty boot print. Applejack, standing in front of the door with her foot still outstretched, turned towards the other two. “I got it.”

The four of them peered inside. It didn’t take long for the team to deduce what had happened in the minutes that Twilight had been left alone. The shower had been running, but no one was inside. A small hand mirror lie broken in the center of the room, likely dropped in surprise or horror. One sharp shard of the broken mirror sat on the edge of the sink, alongside a few severed strands of long, dark blue hair. And white cloth curtains fluttered in the chilling breeze, drawing attention to the vast greenery outside. Beyond that open window was a world that had just gained one more refugee.

“Oh crap.”

Author's Note

I estimated approximately how long it would take me to finish this story given my current chapter publishing patterns. By my calculations, I'll be done with this story in January... of 2021. At the soonest. Hope it'll be worth it!

Thank you to all my loyal readers who have stuck with me and my terribly arduous release schedules.
Story-wise, the future holds many exciting things. Stay tuned!

Chapter 12-1: Pleasantville – Part 1

“So, AJ, what’s the plan?”

“Head into town. Split up. Fan out. And find Twilight ASAP. We’ll bring her back if we can, but we’ll have to stop her if we can’t. After that, we’ll just have to wing it.”

“Pleasantville isn’t very big, but it’s easy to get lost with so much excitement. I’d be willing to guide you through town, if that’s alright with you.”

“We’d be most grateful for your help, dear. Though, on that note, may I suggest a change in wardrobe? I feel our current attire makes us stand out like a set of mismatched buttons.”

“Rarity’s got the right idea. Stow your gear and toss on whatever civvies you’ve got. Concealed carry only. Let’s not draw any attention until we find our target.”

“The USF should know what’s coming their way. There’s no telling what a UNI might do if she makes it into town.”

“Then here’s hoping their CO’ll listen. Now come on, get changed and get moving.”

Twilight counted the seconds that passed since she had left the confines of the cottage behind her. Hidden by the thicket of trees, she ran through wet dirt and fallen leaves, stopping briefly to catch her breath before picking up her pace again. The freedom of fresh air came with an oppressive chill that burned in her lungs, a reminder of how far she was from the comforts of her bed and her books. The Institute’s guardsmen weren’t coming for her: she was on the wrong side of the wall. She may have escaped from her previous confines, but Twilight admitted that she wasn’t out of the woods yet.

‘Out of the woods’. Spike would have liked that pun. If only he were here...

The young woman had reached the aged road sooner than expected, following it until the birch trees and green foliage gave way to empty fields and man-made buildings. The town of Pleasantville may have been civilization, but it was still wilderness to her. After what felt like a marathon's worth of running, Twilight's legs and lungs burned in equal measure. Her only relief was the knowledge that she was getting further from her captors and closer to her goal.

The only thing that mattered was getting back home. Maybe there, she would be safe. Maybe there, she would learn what was happening to her. Maybe there, things would go back to the way they were before. Nothing was certain, but it was enough to push her deeper into the unknown alone.

To most students of the Institute, referring to the world beyond the walls was akin to speaking of the surface of the moon. The royal historical records state that Cell herself ordered that the gates be closed and locked nearly twenty years ago, never again to be opened. No one knows why, but no one dared question her judgement. During that self-imposed isolation, a generation of students would only know of the outside world through dusty old books and the tales the old guardsmen shared.

From an academic perspective, Twilight was making history: not only was she was one of the few people to leave the walls, but she also discovered an outside city. Ideally, she would have been on point with a notebook in hand, vigorously taking notes on any and everything she could in order to report her findings to her teacher. Even now, in the midst of her escape, her mind couldn’t help but catalogue her observations; if she ever made it back, she’d have one heck of a paper to write.

Pleasantville wasn’t nearly as developed as the Institute, but it was definitively a civilized town. Several structures of a variety of shapes and sizes flanked the roads, but they shared the same wooden skeleton. The forest had supplied a majority of the building materials from the wooden struts to the thatched roofs, and the town as a whole shared a natural, cut-from-nature aesthetic. The paved roads were cracked and uneven with age, but the buildings had yet to show such wear. If Twilight had to guess, Pleasantville was barely older than she was.

In spite of its young age, the town had gone from busy to abandon in a matter of hours. Windows were boarded and doors barred shut. Families packed their lives into worn suitcases before walking away from their former homes. Children held on their parents hands, crying, unable to comprehend. The parents can offer no answers or reassurances, but they keep walking. The busy streets were lined with fear, sadness, and uncertainty as the townspeople made their way towards the center of town. Their expressions made the grey sky darken just that much more.

A convoy of military-style trucks roared down the street beside the countless refugees, kicking up pavement on their way out of town. The towering trucks were a mish-mash of colors, models, and ages, but they shared a single emblem painted on their sides: a navy blue box with the letters “USF” stenciled in white. Soldiers ride in the back with their rifles in their hands, their empty eyes scanning the passing crowds. Behind them is a bed full of people, those lucky enough to be given a ride to safety. A handful of hopeful refugees shout towards the trucks, waving them down, asking them to stop. But the trucks can carry no more, leaving them all in the dust and cold.

The evacuation was in full swing, but Twilight could still see hints at what normal life in Pleasantville had been like. A toy store’s door was boarded up, but dolls and games still hung in the window. An empty lot had been converted into a community garden whose soil had been freshly tilled before being trampled over by rushing refugees. Crows picked at the half-eaten remains of a sandwich that were left behind on a restaurant patio. On any other day, Pleasantville may have even been a pleasant place to visit. Twilight was sorry she wouldn’t get the chance to.

It was then that a familiar rumbling could be heard from behind. And as she turned, she saw it: an orange pickup truck coming up the road in the distance. Her gut sank as her mind raced for options. The streets were no longer safe for her, and they were no doubt searching for her.

Twilight picked up the pace, walking quickly to avoid suspicion. Crossing the street would be too risky, and there was nothing she could hide behind on the street. Her only option was to get inside, and fast. Hanging her head low to avoid detection, her eyes kept scanning to the right. The first house had its door closed and no doubt locked. The second house had its front door boarded up nails firmly in place over the door frame. As she passed by the third closed house, a sense of dread grew within her as she was overcome by the feeling that she was being watched. The town was closing in around her to the sound of an approaching engine.

The next plot of land was undeveloped and empty. At this rate, Twilight wondered if she’d even make it to the end of the block before being caught. But that’s when she saw it: an empty door frame in the next building over. An open door felt like most welcoming sight she’d seen all day. It was only 100 meters away, but meters feel like miles when you’re forced to walk them. But without any other option, Twilight pumped her legs as quickly as she could while still keeping both legs on the ground.

100 meters. She could make it with a few seconds of running, but she couldn’t risk drawing attention to herself. Clutching the lapels of Captain Light’s jacket, she hoped to hide her face from any passing onlookers.

60 meters. She was halfway across the empty lot, but she still felt a football field away from her goal. The building ahead is approaching quickly, its aged design appearing distinctive from the other buildings in town.

40 meters. Against her better judgement, she turned to look down the road. Figures could be distinguished within Applejack’s truck, with Rarity’s hair in the passenger's seat being the most defined. Twilight turned forward, ducking her head ever so slightly as she picked up the pace.

20 meters. The empty lot ended and her goal was in sight. All that stood between her was a short stretch of lawn, a large sign in front, and only a few meters worth of distance.

10 meters. The stepping stone path towards the door was too far to risk. Twilight chose to walk over the building’s well-manicured lawn, finding a guilty comfort in feeling the soft grass underfoot.

5 meters. Safety was almost within reach. She held her breath and shut her eyes as the open door neared, quickly prayed she would make it.

The feeling of wood brushes against her fingers, followed by the sound of brass hinges creaking to greet their newest visitor. She had made it.

Twilight stepped inside just as quickly as she shut the door behind her. The walls rattled as the door slammed shut, but the act reassured her that she was indeed safe inside. With her back pressed against the nearby wall, she inched closer to one of the windows overlooking the road. Applejack meandered past, oblivious to Twilight’s evasion. The truck disappeared from sight, and her breath returned to her.

Sliding to her knees for a brief moment of respite, Twilight rubbed the nervous sweat from her brow and closing her anxiously-dry eyes. She had expected that her trek through town would be taxing, and that she was bound to be followed. What she didn’t expect was to find someone standing right in front of her, nose to nose, when she opened her eyes.

“Surprise!”

Pops like gunshots rang in her ears, followed by a flash of light so sudden that Twilight felt her irises nearly shut. Her heart missed no less than two beats as she collapsed to the floor. Frozen in fear, she was sprinkled with streamers and confetti.

Standing over her was a woman with a smile as wide as her head, a salvo of used party poppers in her hands. “Ha! The look on your face! Priceless!” she said, her words giving way to a fit of laughter.

The only thing brighter than the woman’s smile was her eyes, sky blue spheres that gleamed in the midst of such excitement. She seemed to exude pent-up energy, so much so that the air tingled with electricity as she laughed. Perhaps that explained the current state of her hair, frazzled curls of electric pink that looked like an untamed head of cotton candy.

The woman pulled Twilight to her feet, brushing off the mess she had made on her guest. “Hey, I’ve never seen you before. Y'see I've never saw you before and if I've never saw you before that means you're new, 'cause I know everyone- and I mean everyone- in Pleasantville!”

The student got to her feet, picking up her train of thought as she combed errant confetti out of her hair. “Yes, I just arrived, but I should really be-.”

“It’s too bad I didn’t know you were coming. I would have thrown you a surprise, ‘welcome to Pleasantville’ party. I guess a, ‘farewell to Pleasantville party’ will have to do. But hey, a party’s still a party, right?”

“But I was just about to go-“

“Well of course you're about to go. We’re all about to go: go someplace new and exciting, of course! Pleasantville was nice, but who knows where we’ll go next. Where would you like to go?”

“I was actually hoping to-“

“I hope we go somewhere exciting and fun. Maybe we’ll go to Manhattan, or Paris, or the Shire! I hear Narnia’s nice this time of year.”

“Okay, Narnia isn’t even a real-“

“Hey, want to come with me? The USF’s moving everyone out from the center of town. It’s always more fun when a friend tags along.”

“Look, I appreciate your offer, but I don’t need a-“

Friend. Inspiration struck before the word could escape her mouth. Twilight was stuck staring at the woman in front of her, who cheerfully rocked back and forth on her heels with eager anticipation. Walking alone would draw attention; having company would help her blend in.

“Actually… it would be nice if someone could show me around. Never know if I might get lost. Since I’m so new. Like you noticed.”

“Exactamundo, my new friend!” She said, emphasizing the latter two words. “Here, I’ve got my backpack back packed back here. Stay right there, and I’ll be out in a jiffy.”

In a blink of an eye, the girl in pink disappeared between the bookshelves, leaving behind a trail of loose confetti fluttering to the ground.

“Hey, wait a second! Come back!” Twilight said, pausing for a moment to ask, “What’s a jiffy?”

As the last of the colored paper hit the ground, it was clear that her new-found friend wasn’t going to be answering her question just yet. Without anything further to go on, the student did exactly as she had been asked: wait.

Twilight studied the immediate area from top to bottom, noting the aging wood panels of the floors along with the colorful streamers that hung from the ceilings. Looking up, she discovered a string of paper letters, handcrafted and brightly colored that made out the heartbreakingly cheerful message: “Farewell to Pleasantville!” Inferring from the arrangement of the tables and chairs, this particular section was likely the designated reading area. But while the wooden homemade tables were designed to be filled with books and avid readers, Twilight found them to be covered in platters that had once been laden with food. A few stacks of crackers, cheese, and bread remained, though all that remained of the cake were smears of sweetly-scented pink frosting. It was difficult to say how many guests the library had had recently, but they left ample evidence of a party in their wake.

The copious amount of crumbs on the tables and floors were a strong reminder of why eating was always banned inside the Institute’s libraries. But, given how her mouth salivated and how her stomach grumbled as she looked at the remains of the feast, Twilight would make an exception. Two cheese sandwiches and a cracker stack later, the cheerful woman had yet to return. From the front windows, Twilight could see countless people hurrying along the street, their arms full of bags and belongings. The grey sky loomed overhead, and it seemed to grow darker with every moment she spent waiting. Urgency overruled patience, and Twilight began to search for her newfound guide.

The trail of confetti was the first clue that lead her between the bookshelves and deeper into the library. She made her way through the narrow canyon of wooden shelves. Twilight was well acquainted with the several libraries back at the Institute, but she couldn’t help but be disappointed with the state of this library. The Institute always maintained shelves full of books on seeming every subject known to man, but the Pleasantville library had perhaps four shelves worth of books spread across twelve. It wasn’t uncommon to see large gaps in between sections of books, if not empty shelves altogether.

But in spite of the lack of quantity, Twilight was still intrigued by what books this library did have. Many of the titles she had never seen before, making her wonder if they were available in the Institute at all. Books like “Happiness and Horticulture” and “Ishmael’s Story: Life before the Great Collapse” couldn’t be found within the Institute’s walls, which made their discovery all the more exciting. One book had fallen off the shelf, left lying on the floor long enough for a noticeable layer of dust to accumulate across its patchwork leather cover. Twilight took the peculiar book in her hands, flipping through its well-worn pages before placing it on the return cart at the end of the aisle; the title intrigued her, but “History in an Era of Discord” would have to be a book she’d return to another day.

She checked the numerous bookshelves lined the walls around the reading area, but there was still no sign of her guide. As she made her way to the front, she found a periodicals section that was little more than a stack of old hand-printed newsletters on otherwise-regular bookshelves. The newspapers themselves were years out of date, but news section was devoid of life. Nearby was the head librarian’s desk, a large, proud, oaken piece of local craftsmanship that was now little more than storage space for napkins and spider webs. The rear wall stood directly behind the head librarian’s desk, but a large white sheet covered nearly the entirety of the wall as though to cover up some interior damage. The bookworm’s heart ached at the library’s dismal state, so much knowledge that had been left to waste. Twilight made a mental note to herself: if she ever got the chance to come back, she’d give this place the attention it deserved.

A heavy rumbling could be heard coming from the street, one that shook the ground and made the ceiling creak ever so slightly. Staring out the reading room windows, Twilight could see large trucks plowing down the street, their eight wheels moving at a near-reckless speed in order to get to their destination. In spite of their speed, she could clearly see each truck’s contents: numerous people, each being ferried as far from here as possible. Upon seeing that, Twilight knew she couldn’t afford to waste any more time.

She began to make her way to the front of the library, bypassing the bookshelves and going straight down the middle. It would be a shame to leave it all behind, but Twilight couldn’t risk being left behind. She didn’t expect to hear from her phantom friend any time soon. But as she came to the entryway she had once rushed into, a sparkle made her pause for a most crucial moment.

It was something in the center of the wall beside the entrance, an ornate design that was being hidden by the dark interior. On the ground was a large white sheet, similar to the one that hung along the rear wall, but this one was lovingly rolled into a bowl at the foot of the wall. Drawings, flowers, and even small gems were arranged delicately, almost lovingly, on the cloth dish. Candles littered the ground around the cloth, their melted wax smoothing over the cracks in the floorboards. The air smelled heavy with wisps of smoke and floral incense.

The nearby window had its heavy cloth curtain closed, but Twilight could have sworn to have seen a glint of light reflecting from the darkened surface. The studious student stepped towards the nearby window and began to draw the curtain. As the curtain pulled back, the grey light outside gradually revealed more and more of the painting on the wall. When the entire curtain was open, letting the daylight flood in, Twilight gasped at what she saw.

It was a work of art whose beauty was only matched by its meaning. Painted on the wall in the center of the room was figure of a woman, pale, slender, and distinctly feminine. Her features were made to be perfect, drawing upon a mythic idealization of beauty. Countless hours must have been spent on the fineness of her details, from the silken texture of her silvery dress to the flowing waves of her pastel hair. She holds her arms above her head in proud poise, and her face illustrates strength and peace in equal measure.

Between her hands, a painted sun. Behind her back, rays of light formed as open wings. Atop her upturned head, a golden crown. And across her feet, a painted banner with a declaration: “Our Princess, Celestia”.

Her silvery gaze stayed on Twilight, the imposing stare of her slate-grey eyes seeming to pierce right through her. Twilight’s blood turned to ice as her familiar voice echoed in her ear, but the heavenly aura that emanated through the room put her mind at ease. Through this painted proxy she stood before her protégé, whom couldn’t help but notice how slender, pale, and flawless her painted hands were.

Countless questions battered Twilight as she stared at the painting, each observation prompting yet more questions in her mind. Caught in a trace, she didn’t notice the person standing beside her. “I heard the artist who painted all this was arrested. I knew he had his brushes with the law. But personally, I think he was framed.”

Twilight’s heart jumped at the sound of shrill voice beside her. But her nerves calmed as she saw the curly-haired woman standing beside her, staring at the same painted figure on the wall. “I- I don’t understand. What is this supposed to mean?”

“Well, a frame is the wooden thing you put around a painting to make it fancy. But a frame could also refer to-“

“No, no, no, I get the joke. I’m referring to this,” Twilight said, outstretching her arm towards the display in front of her. “The candles, the painting, ‘Princess Celestia’? What is all this?”

“You’ve never heard of the princesses?”

“No. I’m… As you noticed earlier, I’m new around here.”

“Oh, silly. It doesn’t matter if you’re new or not. Everyone in the world must have heard about the princesses! As the story goes, after the world had fallen apart, she and her sister restored order to the world. They’ve fought evil time and time again using their magical powers, and managed to win every time. Even when her own sister turned on her, Princess Celestia has always protected humanity from danger. Many people believe she’s still watching over us, and they leave these offerings to her for good luck.”

Twilight turned to ask, “And these stories… you believe they’re real?”

The woman shrugged her shoulders. “The stories must have come from somewhere, right? Everyone believes in something, no matter how silly it may sound. But a lot of people think they’re just fairy tales, just something to tell the kids at bedtime. And days like today,” she said with an exasperated sign, “well, maybe it’s better to admit that you’re alone in the world, rather than wait to be saved by someone who’ll never come.”

Silence fell over the two as the weight of the message filled the air. There was so much that she wanted to say, but there was nothing worth saying that would have helped. Instead, Twilight chose to say nothing, letting the dismal truth hang heavy in her heart.

The pink-haired woman eventually spoke up, “Well, real or not, it’s all ancient history now. But we’ll be history too if we don’t leave soon. And I don’t think we’ll be getting a painting on the wall either. So come on, let's get going!”

With a gentle pat on the back, Twilight knew it was time to get moving. Her guide pulled a well-travelled rucksack over her shoulder, grunting as the straps tightened around her shoulders. As burdensome as the pack appeared to be, Twilight felt just as burdened by the unanswered questions that lingered in her mind. But as the two of them made their way to the door, all she could do was stare at the day-lit painting, holding onto the golden pin on her jacket lapel more tightly than ever.

Time had only served to make the grey day only more miserable. As she stepped back outside , the skies had grown darker and the breeze blew colder in the time that had passed. The guide was the last one out, and there was a sudden jolt of sound that seemed to echo through the street as she shut the front door. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she reached into her pocket, retrieving a set of keys to lock up for the final time. After knocking on the wood three times for good luck, the woman turned and stepped besides Twilight.

“Say, I never got your name. We can’t be backpacking buddies if we don’t know each other’s name now, huh?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess you’re right. You can call me Twilight. I… hope that name’s not too weird or anything.”

“Around these parts? Ha! Not at all.” The woman pulled on as playful of a grin as she could. ”Pinkie Pie, at your service. My friends just call me Pinkie, though, so you can too.“

Author's Note

Special thanks to TotallyNotABrony and Blake Skies, whose dedication and time-keeping has humbled this author. Even after almost a year, they and others like them still wait patiently for the next chapter.

Thank you to all my readers, whose patience must surely be reaching sainthood or whose memories have already forgotten all about this endeavor of mine. In either case, you have my appreciation.

Prologue: Once Upon a Time...

“Many years ago, a great woman lost her way. Her name was Luna, and she was the founder of the Umbra organization. Just as I have led the men and women of the Illuminatus, Luna led those of the Umbra with the goal of creating peace and stability. Our two orders grew powerful, but in our desire to achieve our goals separately, conflict and stagnation was inevitable. After many years, we both realized that we could never achieve our goal apart. Thus, our two organizations united to form the Network, and we have both sought to bring peace upon the world. In that matter and more, Luna and I are two halves of the same whole.

However, while fate has granted me the courage to endure my duties, my fellow sister lacked such strength. As the years passed and resentment filled her heart, Luna’s eyes turned against the Network. The flames of civil war raged among the Illuminatus and the Umbra, and we endured years of such senseless bloodshed. Only through reluctant use of force did I defeat my fellow sister, striking down her forces with a weapon we had once harnessed together. Many lives were needlessly lost, but the Network survived. Luna was imprisoned for her crimes, sparing her from certain execution. Yet despite once being sisters, we have never spoken since. I had chosen my most trusted Director, Midnight, to lead the Umbra in Luna’s absence. She has performed her task with much success, but the air of betrayal pervades the Umbra’s ranks.

Over a decade of lonely nights, Luna’s sentence has long been served. The world is a scale, upon which all things are delicately balanced. Day and night. Liberty and law. Order and chaos. The past and the future. Should one side begin to surpass the other, the scale is tipped and balance is lost. But when all sides are equal, the world will finally know unity, love, and harmony.

I understand now that balance can only be restored under the Umbra’s rightful leader. I have spoken with Midnight, and she concurs that it is nigh time for a change. Tomorrow, we shall meet to return Luna to her former role and responsibilities. You shall accompany me.

Make no mistake, Twilight: we will restore the balance between the night and the day. Then all will see the dawn of our new world.”