In terms of the incantation, there was no denying that Finished Spell Prototype #0005 was just a miniscule readjustment from Finished Spell Prototype #0002. However, Twilight was still testing it, because, first, it was proper scientific procedure. Second, because she thought it would be helpful to see how sensitive the Swap was to miniscule readjustments. Third, perhaps the least scientific reason, she liked the way #0002 had rhymed; she’d really been poetically inspired with that one!

So Twilight had held up her paper and recited:

“From one to another
Another to one
A mark of one’s destiny
Singled out alone, fulfilled
Joining hearts together,
Together sharing fate
By hoof and horn and feather
That we all better relate.”

The cone of light from her horn hit Ruffles the Dog and Wousey the Mouse. Once again, Twilight waited while the affected animals came over to be where the other had been standing. As Wousey’s tongue hung out in a pant, Ruffles scurried over towards a set of metallic wheels, suitable for rodent-style exercise.

The smaller one was the size of Twilight’s own hoof; a genuinely mouse-sized exercise wheel. She had cast a magical spell on the other wheel to expand it to a size that a dog like Ruffles could fit into.

There was a moment where Ruffles seemed unsure. Ruffles almost approached the wheel that her body would fit into. Then she had a second thought, and tried to jam her snout into the mouse-sized wheel, instead.

It was that moment of hesitation, of consideration, that fascinated the lavender unicorn. The swapped dog had almost picked the wheel that it would’ve suited it. Perhaps a TOUCH more tweaking of Prototype #5; maybe even an extra stanza or two to the incantation….

She yawned and shook her head. She’d been at this for a while. Time for some tea! She stepped out of the magical wards in the lab, when green smoke suddenly floated in front of Twilight’s muzzle, coalescing into solid paper. Not a neatly rolled-up scroll like was customary for Spike, but rather a small lined yellow page… one that could’ve been torn from a cheap notepad.

Dear Twilight,

I’m not sure if you’ll get this before I arrive. I’m on Rainbow Dash’s back. We’re flying up to the cloud house to meet you.

Spike

Twilight felt gladness: Spike was back home! She cast the sleep spell over all the Swapped animals and locked the laboratory up properly before heading downstairs quickly enough to reach the door before there came knocking from the outside.

She opened the door, and there, indeed, was Rainbow Dash; a whistle around her neck, a cap on her head, and Spike on her back.

“Hey… Twilight…” Rainbow greeted.

“Welcome back, Spike!” She nuzzled her little dragon’s face. He was wearing an adorable T-shirt that read ‘Camp Mountain Peaks Junior Muskrat,’ and had the cutest cartoon muskrat ever drawn. It had cost her a little extra money to make sure the camp had a shirt that’d fit a biped like Spike. But, hey, he deserved a little doting with all he’d been through as of late. “Well, come in! Come in! No sense standing outside! I want to hear all about it!”

Rainbow Dash licked her lips and stepped inside the house quietly. Rather than jump off, Spike kept on the pegasus’ back, with a very troubled look.

“Spike, why’re you still on… oh, silly me!” And Twilight cast the cloudwalking spell on Spike’s body.

“Now tell me all about how camp went,” she invited brightly, motioning towards a puffy white couch.

Spike still remained on Rainbow Dash’s back hugging her around the neck tighter than ever. There was a definite bleak note in his voice when he finally spoke.

“Camp? Oh, camp was a blast. But when they finally brought me back home to Ponyville, Lero and Rarity weren’t there to pick me up. Even though you’d wrote in that letter that they’d be there. Even though everypony else’s parents were there.”

“Rarity and Lero weren’t there?” Twilight repeated, stunned. “They should have, I saw them leave…!”

“I waited for them. I waited hours. I thought about going home by myself, but it was such a long walk…”

Twilight checked the clock. Lero and Rarity were supposed to have been there at one o’clock. It was 5:33 pm.

“After the first hour, I ran to the closest store and bought this notepad,” Spike continued, holding the notepad up, “and tried flame-mailing Lero and Rarity to remind them I was waiting for them. But they never showed up. So twenty minutes later, I sent them a new message. And twenty minutes after that, I tried flame-mailing them again.”

Rainbow Dash moved towards the couch. Spike got the message and sat down on it while she nuzzled him consolingly.

“At first, my letters at least seemed to be arriving wherever it was Lero and Rarity were. But after the fourth letter I sent…”

Bringing out a pen, Spike quickly jotted words on the notepad;

Lero,

COME HOME!!!!

Spike

Then he tore the note off and breathed green fire on it. Twilight expected to see it fly through the open front door… but it didn’t go anywhere. The smoke spun about, like it was lost or confused, making circles in the air, before returning and rematerializing into paper by Spike’s shoulder and dropping to the floor. Long seconds passed.

“So then Spike finally thought to write a letter to me…” Rainbow Dash timidly added, as Twilight stared at the unsent mail with great distress. “and I came and picked him up right away.”

“They’re in TROUBLE, Twilight!”

* * *

“Laugh at me.” Honeydew dared the evil bonobo.

“Huh?” Those small little eyes were filled with hopeless blankness. Hazel was such a nauseating color.

“Laugh at me,” she challenged him again. “Laugh. Laugh at Honeydew. Like you always do! I want to hear your laughter, my sublime stallion.”

“There is nothing funny about you,” he responded, flatly.

Honeydew grinned. While she usually had a hard time reading his expressions, today she was sure the monkey was daunted, at a loss for what to do. It all took her back to the early days. Back when the ape had nopony, back when she and Honeybee and Honeysuckle were real sisters with each other, united against a common foe. Before the monkey had shacked up with the first of his guard dogs, when he cowered and fled when he saw them coming...

“And I don’t find anything funny about this either — not yet!” snarled the pugnacious poodle, herself. “But I’ll tell you what I will find amusing; opening tomorrow’s newspaper and reading about you being thrown behind bars!”

“Rarity, please…” sniveled her cowardly excuse for a coltfriend. “Don’t…”

“This is kidnapping, this is abduction, this is unlawful imprisonment!” She snapped, ignoring him.

“Oh!” exclaimed Exit Wound, stepping ahead of Honeydew. “Oh, me sainted mother’s smoile! Please, please, please don’t press charges on us! Me and teh gang, we was just having a wee bit o’ sport with yeh!”

The skewbald unicorn removed her hat, looking so apologetic, it was like watching Rainbow Dash, after that skinny, garish loser had spoken out of turn.

“Et was Honeydew; she roped us inta doing this! We never meant ta take et this far. Kidnapping’s evil, and teh last thing a Sicklefin girl wants is ta act against teh l… against teh law… haw haw HAW!”

Many of the other Sicklefins chuckled along as their underboss brayed with laughter, all of them drawing closer to where the spotlights shone.

“Feck! Oi’m SHITE as an actress! Couldn’t keep me giggles down fer a full minute! So much for me showbiz dreams! Eee hee hee hee haw haw haw!”

* * *

Gone.

How could they be gone? That was the question that plagued Twilight’s mind as she paced in a circle, threatening to wear a trench into the cloud house’s floor.

Rainbow Dash was faring only a little better, her cyan wings fluttering at her side as she worriedly rubbed her forehooves together.

Spike’s incessant questions were not helping. “What does this mean, Twilight?”

“I don’t know, Spike,” said the unicorn, her eyes hardly lifting from the floor.

“You don’t know?!” The small dragon jumped in front of her, bringing her pacing to a halt. “But the... you’re the Element of Magic! How can you not know?!”

“I… I just don’t!”

“What if they’re hurt?!”

“I don’t know!”

“What if they’re dead?!”

“I don’t know!”

“Wh-What if… What if it’s that Lady, the one Lero was so...”

“NO!!” came the sound of two shrill voices. Spike found his jaws clamped shut by two sets of hooves, one violet and the other cyan. He made to struggle and shout when he was suddenly confronted by Twilight’s wide-eyed visage.

“Never. Ever. Say that name,” she whispered.

Silence hung over the cloud house for a small eternity. Both Rainbow and Twilight’s eyes occasionally darted about and their ears swiveled, as if in expectation for some unseen attack.

Rainbow began to hyperventilate, the cloud house becoming too small. Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes as the creeping dread of a force she could not...

“Rainbow!” yelled Twilight. The unicorn flung herself against the pegasus and wrapped herself tightly around her. “Stay with me!”

Twilight’s plea was enough to bring Dash out of her waking nightmare. She returned to the favor and hugged Twilight as tightly as she could, wrapping both her forelegs and her wings around her new herd sister.

“I-I-It’s n-n-not Them,” she whispered, as if too much sound would summon whatever beings they were so fearful of, “is it?”

“No, no, no,” repeated Twilight, as if she were trying to also convince herself. She held onto Rainbow more tightly.

They stayed like that, clasped against each other, for a small eternity. They quietly reassured each other with trembling nuzzles and soft coos. They allowed their breathing to sync, felt their hearts hammer against each other, and breathed in each other’s scent.

In and out.

In and out.

“Okay,” breathed Twilight. The scholar took another deep breath, repeating the exercise Cadence had shown her.

In and out.

In… and out…

“Okay,” repeated Twilight. She finally pulled back from Rainbow Dash, sufficiently assured that both of them were calm and both were safe here. Then she let her mind go to work.

Rainbow and Spike recognized the analytical look in her eyes. “I… I am fairly certain that they are not dead.” Rainbow’s eyes lit up in hope. “If they were, the spell would not have been able to activate at all and the message would have simply burned away like from regular fire.”

“Oh, yeah...” Spike said. “Like that one time when you had me keep mailing letters to Professor Milkcap before we learned that she’d died in that horrible accident, a few hours earlier…”

Twilight glanced between Dash and Spike. “The magic is behaving as if it has a valid target, but can’t find it.” She stood up and walked over to her workbench. Grabbing a quill and a blank sheet of parchment, she began to scribble furiously. Spike and Rainbow Dash both wandered over to see what she was doing. Spike’s eyes widened in recognition.

“Is that…?” he asked.

“The Dragon Fire Spell, yes,” said Twilight, her eyes never leaving the parchment.

Twilight had sketched out the complete thaumaturgic formula for the spell; the spell matrix, mana flow patterns, everything. It was an intricate piece of work, one first developed in ancient times when the first dragon had lived amongst ponies. Twilight had created such a complete and detailed diagram of the spell’s working processes and in such short time, that any university would have hired her on the spot and grant her full tenure.

Of course, Twilight was focused on a much more important task.

“Okay, let’s see here,” she said. Her eyes darted across the page in silence as she ran several scenarios in her head. She was silent at this point, hardly moving at all. After a few minutes, the tension had begun to return to the room.

Rainbow Dash began to fidget again. She didn’t like standing still while Lero and Rarity were in such big trouble. She… she needed to move! She needed to get out there and do something! Lero could be really hurt. He could be dying! Her thoughts went to that dark corner of her mind as she envisioned him somewhere far away and bleeding…

“Rainbow,” said Twilight. Her herdmate’s words snapped Rainbow Dash back to reality, the dark thoughts chased away. “I want you to take Spike with you to the library as quick as you can. Spike, when you get there I want you to pull me a copy of Verneighsus’ Wards and Shields, as well as Shadow Hoof’s Unseen Tactics.” She turned to her family and saw their confused looks.

Spike began to say, “But Twilight, those are…!”

“I have a theory, Spike,” interrupted Twilight with a raised hoof, “but I need to be sure. Just be quick about it. I’ll lock things down here and meet you at the library as quick as I can.”

Rainbow felt like she should complain, but she knew the importance of the research Twilight was conducting up here. She also knew that something worse might happen if the experiment here got out of hoof.

‘Though I can’t imagine something worse that losing Lero,’ she mused.

“You got it, Twilight!” Rainbow Dash grabbed Spike and flung the surprised drake on her back. Before he could even get in a word of protest, Dash was out the door and zooming to her new home.

Twilight waited until she was sure they were gone before she let out a stuttering breath. As she turned to put away her notes and equipment, she silently prayed that she was wrong about her theory.

* * *

Returning her hat to her head, Exit Wound came in to have a closer squint at the primate through her thin-rimmed glasses. “So THIS is teh monkey? OOGLY fellah! More loike a monkey’s miscarriage!”

Exit Wound’s humor could sometimes be hit-or-miss, but Honeydew had a great laugh at that, especially since Rarity looked ready to pop a blood vessel or ten. Until she saw that the monkey was looking past them both at one of the other Sicklefins who were drawing closer to watch the show.

“You… isn’t your name Glitter Dust?” he asked a peach-colored unicorn off to the left.

Glitter Dust raised an eyebrow. “Been a while, hasn’t it, vine-swinger?”

“Fine.” Honeydew remembered snapping at her treacherous sister. I’ll handle this on my own. Maybe Glitter will help, since you guys won’t.”

And Glitter Dust, bless her, HAD helped. Glitter had always been a friend of hers. In the early days, the unicorn had sometimes tagged along and helped Honeydew and her sisters give the monkey the treatment it deserved. And she had remained a true friend after Honeysuckle and Honeybee had fallen for the ape’s charms, and turned traitor on her.

Glitter Dust had been the one to connect Honeydew to all these helpful ponies.

But right here and now, Honeydew could not bring herself to feel any of her usual gratitude. The gibbon was snubbing her again, ignoring her, like he so often did when he hurried past her stall in the marketplace, as though he were BETTER than her…!

To reclaim his attention, Honeydew spat straight into the lemur’s face; he had to blink away a lot of phlegm.

“Bit o’ advice, lad, when a girl pulls all the fecking stops out ta set up a memorable get-together with yeh, yeh don’t fecking want ta go getting distracted by other mares,” said Exit Wound.

“Just what are you supposed to be?!” Rarity retorted. “Honeydew’s yes-mare? Her second-in-command?”

Exit’s smile dropped instantly, replaced with a scowl.

Honeydew didn’t have a svelte figure like Rarity. Of all the Honey sisters, she had always been largest and most imposing, and her martial arts training has given her muscles to spare. But by comparison, Exit Wound made Honeydew look like a trim and dainty ballerina. It really was something to watch Exit’s muscles pulse angrily under the jacket she wore.

“Got quite a mouth on yeh, huh, yeh barrel-arsed face-in-a-fit?!”

Rarity sputtered at the insult. If she knew what was best for her, she’d shut up. But then, if Rarity knew what was best for her, she’d have never gotten in bed with the orangutan.

“How could you even have pulled all THIS off?!”

Oh, speaking of the orangutan, it’d finally found its voice!

“You’re just a melon seller! You sell cantaloupes and watermelons and honeydews outdoors at a tiny little stall!”

Earlier on, when the gorilla’s capture had still been in the planning stages, Exit Wound had asked Honeydew whether she’d wanted to proceed right away with the ‘down-and-dirty,’ once he was conscious. Honeydew had declined. Because then, the clueless, unsuspecting ape couldn’t have asked that lovely question, and she couldn’t have smirked back at him and said;

“And YOU, Mr. Masseur, are just an over-glorified backscratcher. In fact, I remember when you were less than that! I remember you as a weed-puller, a log-splitter, a window-washer, and just an all-around odd jobs charity case. Yet somehow, someway, we both managed to make so much more of ourselves than all our neighbours would’ve ever predicted, hm?”

“Oh, to be sure.” Rarity sniffed haughtily. “I don’t think anypony would’ve predicted to see you touting a pair of pompoms, Honeydew. Really moving up in the world.”

Honeydew felt some of the wind leaving her sails. Though in all honesty, she hadn’t expected her current state of dress to go uncommented-on. But Exit Wound wasn’t helping things at all when she started rubbing herself against Honeydew very crudely and lewdly.

“D’ya loike et?” she asked, licking the side of Honeydew’s green and gray ensemble. “This here ain’t just some cheap thirty-bit Noightmare Noight rag. What Dewy’s wearing… a company that makes genuine varsity hoigh school cheerleader uniforms stitched this up fer me!”

Why did Exit have to pull this on her? Here? Now? Right in front of all her underlings and Honeydew’s sworn enemies? Hadn’t she indulged her enough?

“Oi’m a fecking animal fer cheerleaders,” Exit Wound boasted to Rarity and her chimp. “Specially teh blondes. Mmm-MMM! Blonder teh better.”

Exit Wound began nibbling at one of Honeydew’s pigtails, which felt gross. The sort of thing a one-month-old would do. Self-consciously, she looked over at Rarity, who was peering at her once-green mane, no doubt taking note of how blonde it had been dyed all the way through to the roots.

“Could’ve at least done a better job on the dye, Dew.” Rarity muttered.

“Ey! Dewy!” Exit suddenly pulled back before she could respond. “Do teh song and dance Oi taught yeh!”

“In front of the SICKO MONKEY?!” she balked.

Exit pointed at one of her own subordinates; a sinewy weasel of a mare. “Yeh’ve fecking done et in front o’ Doublehead, and with all teh molestin’ she’s ever done, Oi’m sure she’s been in prison more toimes than teh warden!”

Yes, Honeydew said in her head, But only because you insisted on it. As the gangster boss was insisting now. And if Exit Wound didn’t get what she wanted, it might cost Honeydew a few teeth. Or worse; she might actually put Rarity and Lero under a sleep spell, then smuggle them back to their bedroom, safe, sound, and untouched. Purely out of spite. So Honeydew took a deep breath.

* * *

Lyra Heartstrings had just poured a cup of tea to help settle her mind when Rainbow Dash came crashing through Golden Oaks’ window. The pegasus’ less-than-graceful entrance caused many of the new animals Lyra had allowed in the house to panic and dash about to try and find cover in a chorus of barks, screeches, and meows. Lyra instantly reacted. Her horn was enveloped in a golden glow that matched her narrowed eyes. Rainbow Dash quickly found herself halted in midair, the sudden cease of movement nearly causing her to black out.

Spike was not so fortunate, as his momentum continued to carry him forward in a tumbling ball that struck a large pile of boxes.

“Lyra!” shouted Rainbow Dash.

“Rainbow?” said the surprised unicorn, who dropped her magical grip and allowed Dash to hover in midair. “What in Equestria...?”

“Spike! Find those books!” ordered Dash.

The dragon popped up from the pile of boxes and gave a sharp salute. “On it, Dash!” He ran on all fours towards the one of the bookshelves, his small claws digging into the wood as he scaled up and across like a gecko.

“Guys, what’s going on?” asked Lyra.

Rainbow turned back to Lyra and spilled everything. “Lero and Rarity are missing and we can’t find them so we went to Twilight because we can’t get a message to them at all and then Twilight sent us here to find some books that might help and...”

A bright flash signaled Twilight’s arrival. Ignoring the shallow scorch marks in the floor, she turned instinctively to her assistant. “Spike! Do you have those books?”

Spike had just plucked the second bound volume from the shelves. “Right here, Twilight!”

Twilight grabbed both books with her magic and brought them to the central table. Pages turned in midair and opened to very specific references as Twilight levitated the arcane diagram. It was all a flurry of motion to Rainbow and the others and lasted no more than a few seconds.

Finally, Twilight set everything down and let loose a shaky breath.

“They’ve most likely been kidnapped or otherwise imprisoned,” she said. “The messages aren’t getting through because somepony has cast one of Verneighus’ wards on them. I recognize the thaumic pattern when the spells fail to find the target.”

“Kidnapped?” said Rainbow. Her eyes suddenly narrowed and her teeth grit together. Her wings gave a single great pump and soon she was in the air. “I’m gonna crush ‘em! How dare they do this to my herd?! I’m going to find them all and feed them to Mr. Braun for breakfast!”

A golden aura surrounded her and brought Dash back to the ground. “Dash, listen to me,” said Lyra calmly. “I know you want to go out there and beat whoever did this thing. Trust me, I’m right there with you. But we can’t do much until we figure out who took them.”

This visibly deflated the pegasus and soon she was back down on the floor and shaking, both at the prospect of Lero and Rarity’s kidnapping, but mostly at what she had just threatened to do. She was ready to willingly hurt — to kill — somepony for what they had done. What kind of Element of Kindness would do that?

“I...” she began.

Lyra came close and gently nuzzled her. “It’s okay, Rainbow,” said Lyra. “We will find them, won’t we, Twilight?”

Twilight looked uneasily towards the tomes. “...yes,” she said, “but it won’t be easy. Normally a spell this unique and complex would have a very specific thaumaturgic signature I could scan for. But Verneighus specifically crafted this one to be extremely difficult to detect; it made it more effective for ancient espionage.”

Twilight levitated over a fresh quill, ink pot, and blank parchment. “I think I might be able to find a work-around method, but it may take a while… I’ve never attempted anything like this.” As she scanned her own diagram for the Dragon Fire spell and the one in the old tome, she soon realized that it might take days. And that was assuming that whoever was using this jamming spell was using the original, not the easier-to-cast but less effective knockoffs.

Whoever was doing this was good.

Lyra sensed her worry but stayed silent.

With nothing else to do, Spike said, “I’ll uh, I’m just going to get something to eat. Does anypony else want something?”

“Thank you, Spike,” said Lyra. A moment later, she came up to him and wrapped the little dragon in a warm hug. “Welcome home.”

Spike returned the hug. “Thanks, Lyra.”

“Come on. I’ll help you make some sandwiches.” The two walked off into the kitchen, leaving Twilight and Rainbow in the main room.

Dully, Spike went through the motions. As he opened up the cabinet, he mind went through scenario after scenario of what fate may have befallen Rarity and Lero. Were they being tortured? He couldn’t imagine who would do such a thing; there were no major threats to Equestria right now. What about being held hostage? Word had already spread about how the Throne had granted all of the Element Bearers all that money. Maybe someone wanted to hold them for ransom? Or a mad scientist who’d wanted to steal Lero to experiment on him? What if it was Chrysalis? Had she come back? Were they going to drain Lero and Rarity of their love and...?

“Argh! Why can’t I find anything?!” Spike suddenly exclaimed, pounding his tiny fists into the wooden shelves.

Lyra had just set down a large plate and had pulled out the bread knife. “Spike?”

“Did you guys change the pantry system again while I was gone?” Spike pointed to some vacant spots on the shelves. “I can’t find bread or anything.”

Lyra smiled. “Oh relax, Spike. We’re just out of that. I’m sure one of the… others…” Lyra stopped and stared into the cabinet’s empty space. The bread knife clattered to the floor.”

“Lyra?”

“Oh, Horny, you are such an idiot!” Lyra turned and dashed back into the main room, Spike following quickly on her fetlocks.

“Girls!” Lyra shouted. “I know how to get to Lero!”

Immediately the room was all ears.

“Both Lero and Rarity would have seen that we needed more food earlier today, and since they would want everything ready for you you got back, Spike, they probably would’ve gone to the market before picking you up at the train station, right?” At their nods, Lyra continued. “And since nothing is amiss here, the door isn’t smashed, the lock isn’t forced open, and I’ve been here for a while, they must have been taken while they were at the market!”

Twilight’s eyes widened in understanding. “We don’t need a spell to find them,” she said. “We just have to follow their trail!”

Dash leapt up into the air. “Well what are we waiting for?” she grinned. “Let go get them!”

And with that they were off.

* * *

Proper cheerleading was more than just slipping into a skimpy miniskirt and then shaking pompoms while swinging your hindquarters around. Honeydew had been a cheerleader during her own high school years. She still helped teach cheerleading to high schoolers as an assistant coach at her daughter’s high school.

True cheerleading was not an art or a sport fit for a solo performer, any more than synchronized swimming. It was all climbing and stunting and mounting in order to form pyramids with bases and climbers. It was about ponies allowing you to stand tall on their backs, then allowing other teammates to stand tall on yours. It was about letting some other girl use your body as a springboard, in order to pull off some incredible gymnastic sure to thrill the crowd. It was about keeping your balance while teetering ten feet up upon two different mares’ outraised hooves.

Honeydew respected cheerleading much like she respected the martial arts. Done right, it combined athleticism, theatrics, singing, beauty, trust, and most valuable of all: teamwork.

Fetishist that she was, Exit Wound had acted sympathetic, when she’d brought this point up with her, some time ago.

”Don’t worry, Dewy,” Exit had crooned, that night at the hotel. ”Stick with me, and before yah know et, yeh’ll have a full roster o’ squadmates, and yeh can all dance yer pretty little dances, all fer me. Yeh can be fecking team captain, Dewy.”

And as she felt the shaft of unicorn magic push around her nethers, Honeydew pretended such news delighted her.

But in the here and now, Honeydew did the very best she could by herself. On her own, she felt like a one-stringed guitar and a single-keyed piano. Nonetheless, she faced the mobsters and gave it her all. Looking each one of them in the eye as she walked crabwise, she shook her pompoms and her booty while leading the Sicklefin cheer.

“Two! Four! Six! Eight!
We like to assassinate!
S-I-C-K-L-E-F-I-N!
All of that spells Sicklefin!
We’re the terror of the Emerald Isles!
Coming at ya with our sharky smiles!
We thirst for blood! We thirst for gore!
Can’t get enough! Need more, more, more!
Shoot to kill! Aim for the head!
Coat the floors with lots of red!
Rah! Rah! Sis-boom-bah!
Hack ‘em up with an old hacksaw!”

Honeydew’s unrestrained excitement was irresistibly infectious. In no time at all, the Sicklefin gangsters were cheering and stomping their hooves like hoofball fans at a stadium. Exit Wound’s smile was downright goofy. Honeydew may not have her youth, but one thing no one could take away from her was her spirit. Even Rarity and her monkey were gaping at her with awe.

“Sickle... fin?” Rarity asked.

“Et’s a fecking type o’ shark.” Exit Wound had explained. ”Sharks were teh big ‘in’-thing, back when we had teh pick a name fer ourselves. Woulda called ourselves teh Hammerheads or teh fecking Great Whites, probably, but they were already taken by other gangs. Which we all deep-sixed, later on.”

Honeydew hoped Rarity would say that ‘Sicklefin’ was a dumb-sounding name. She really hoped it.

“Why the hell do you hate me this much?!” the monkey begged to know. “This completely?!”

"Pleased to meet you, Honeydew.” The tall, toned minotaur lowered himself down onto one knee, extending one of his strange, monkeyish forelimbs out in a handshake… as though she had a hand to shake back with. “My name is Bronze Bell, and I’m a good friend of your mother’s.”

* * *

As Dash darted back and forth far overhead of the waning afternoon market crowds, trying to spot her new lovers from on high, Twilight, Lyra, and Spike went from vendor to vendor in hopes of finding someone who saw the missing pair. They made quick progress. Though Lero had lived among the ponies for several years now, the biped was still considered an odd sight amongst the citizens, one that most were quick to spot and remember seeing on a given day.

“Oh yeah,” said the celery vendor, “I saw those two just before eleven in the morning, I think. They bought a few stalks from me and made some chitchat then went that way.” She pointed further down the road.

“Thanks, Green Stalk,” said Twilight and the group continued running down the street.

A few minutes later, Spike spoke up. “Maybe they went to get something to eat?”

“That’s true,” said Lyra. “It would have been getting close to noon so they...”

“Hey, you! Yeah, you! The dweeb duo!” Twilight and Spike turned to the belligerent voice and felt their stomachs drop. Standing just a few yards away from them was a very familiar griffon hen with a brown and white coat and purple highlights. They had only met her once at a party, what felt like a lifetime ago now, but Gilda had managed to make a distinct impression on them.

Too bad it was the wrong impression.

Gilda was currently glaring at Twilight and Spike through one of her small, predatory eyes. Or at least trying to, as she wavered slightly on three wobbly legs with the fourth clutching a beer bottle.

“Yeah, I remember you two,” she said, before taking another swig of beer and throwing the bottle towards a nearby trashcan. The bottle missed and ended up overshooting the can before clattering off into an alley. “You were there, at that stupid party that sissy pegasus threw.” Gilda’s glare narrowed. “You laughed at me…”

“Oh Sisters,” said Twilight, pressing a hoof to her forehead. “We do not have time for this horse-apples.” She returned Gilda’s glare. “Look, I’d love to stay and tell you you’re wrong about this, but we’re busy right now, so if you could just...”

“You laughed at me!” Gilda pointed an accusing claw at the pair and took several aggressive steps towards them. “Someone should have told you not to ever laugh at a...”

Gilda’s rant was cut off when her claw was suddenly surrounded by a golden glow. The hen squawked in surprise as her wrist was bent back at a severe angle, her body folding under the simple motion on the sensitive pressure point. Lyra took this chance to come around from behind Twilight and Spike, her annoyed expression betraying her usual enigmatic grin. Gilda wide eyes watched in fear as more pressure was applied to her wrist and bit back another shriek.

“Miss… Gilda, is it?” she asked. “I’m sure you probably couldn’t tell before, but the three of us are in a hurry. And since I can control your entire body through the manipulation of this...” another increase in pressure finally caused the hen to drop full to the ground and give a rather pathetic squawk, “...single pressure point, not to mention you attempted to assault an Element of Harmony, I would highly recommend that you leave well enough alone and let us be on our way.”

A smart griffon would have submitted at this point and nodded their head. But Gilda had always been known to be more prideful and stubborn than smart. “Freakin’ ponies,” she hissed. Lyra’s eyes hardened as she prepared to apply one last bit of torque to the joint. “I don’t why I ever thought R would be cool again, especially with now she’s with that two-legged alien...”

“Wait!” shouted Spike who hopped off Twilight’s back and ran directly in front of the prone griffon. “Did you mean ‘Rarity’? Have you seen her?”

Gilda’s confusion fought through the haze of pain. Lyra eased off slightly, allowing the hen to speak. “Yeah I saw her, her and that freaky ostrich-monkey she calls a...”

Another bout of pain shot through her. “I would be very careful what names you call my stallion, Miss Gilda,” the grandmaster advised.

“Argh! Fine, okay!” Gilda looked back to Spike. “Yeah, pipsqueak, I saw them. We had lunch together around elevenish.”

“And?” asked Twilight.

“And what? I ain’t gotta say nuttin’ to you, you dweebs ain’t...” Another bit of pressure was applied. “ARRGH! Okay okay okay! Fine! I tried to talk to R, get her to be cool again like back in the good ol’ days. But the stupid flip-flop wouldn’t budge! Tried to act all ‘mature’ and ‘adult’ like some sorta lame-o!” Gilda gave a few short gasps. “That’s the last I saw her. After that, they left and I went across the street for a few more drinks.”

Lyra eyed the intoxicated griffin before asking, “And she didn’t say where she was going after that?”

“She said she was going to the train station. That’s all I know, I swear!”

Somewhat satisfied, Lyra released her magical grip on the hen’s wrist. Gilda instantly brought it to her chest and cradled it, trying to coax some semblance of life out of it. She glared back up at the two unicorns. “What are you, her nags or something?”

“We are her family,” said Twilight, allowing Spike to get back onto his usual perch. “And if you ever had anything that remotely resembled a shadow of a friendship with Rarity, you would be helping us. She’s gone missing, along with Lero.”

“Missing?” asked Gilda as she slowly stood up.

“Somepony took her and we’re going to get her!” said Spike with a puffed out chest.

“Wait what?!” Gilda’s wings flared at her sides. “Why the pluck didn’t you dweebs say so?! I’m coming with you!”

Even through her fog of inebriation, the griffin’s expression was just too earnest to be anything but real. None of them had the heart to refuse her.

* * *

“You know something, my wondrous stallion?” Honeydew answered. “There’s one thing even I can’t help admire about you. When you go chasing tail, you don’t settle for some dishwasher, some gravedigger, some streetwalker! No, you go straight for the GOLD, straight for our world’s finest heroes! Not one, not two, but THREE mares who are Elements of Harmony Bearers, plus a Still Way grandmaster!”

“Shocking yeh don’t have Celestia, her-feckin’-self, as a notch on yer belt!” quipped Exit Wound, to Honeydew’s great aggravation.

“Twilight Sparkle in particular… she’s as good as a daughter to our fair Sun Princess… making YOU as good as an actual prince!”

Exit Wound dropped into a mocking and showy kowtow. “All hail Prince Moichaeloides! Bow before his magnificence! Teh Ape Prince o’ All Ponies!” Then, angrily, she looked over her shoulder at all her thugs and yelled, “‘Ey! Oi fecking told yeh skangers ta BOW!!!”

All the ponies except a VERY furious Honeydew dropped to a sardonic bow before the chimpanzee.

“All Hail Prince Michaelides!” echoed several voices.

Exit Wound took off her hat respectfully, putting it to her chest. “What be thy bidding, soire?”

“...Would it be too much to expect asking you to release us would work?”

Exit Wound snorted at that, and laughed. “Not an earthly chance o’ et, princey-poo. We got plans fer yeh yet, we do!”

Even the pseudo-respect was infuriating to Honeydew. Why wouldn’t Exit take things seriously for once?! At the rate things were going, this primate’s face would be on all the money — all currency in all countries all around the world — come next spring!

“Must be nice, being so untouchable,” she scowled. “Having such powerful mares to always hide behind!”

“Oh, believe me, Honeydew, my herd-sisters and I were more than happy to thwart your attempts to grind our stallion into pulp!” Rarity snapped from her cage.

It wasn’t worth responding to, even if it got her hackles up, old wounds aching at the sound of her stupid voice... that particular cat had been declawed.

“And of course, you’re such an absolute cult of personality, that no law-abiding citizen would ever DREAM of so much as uttering a disfavorable word against you! The nifty space alien from his nifty space alien galaxy! The homeless interdimensional refugee in need of pony charity and pony compassion! The gold-hearted do-gooder! The fairy tale social climber who rose from rags to royalty in the space of a few short years! Inspiration of an groundbreaking line of scientific inquiry and speculative fiction! Launcher of a million new pornographic fetishes!”

With each word, she stalked closer, each word louder, more violent, she watched him flinch as furious flecks of her spit spattered on his disgusting face. Behind her, Exit Wound give a signal, and she stepped aside. With guffaws, her goons flung magazines, paintings, books, even statuettes and… toys.

* * *

“Oh yes, I saw them earlier today,” said Ticket Ride. The train station attendant was just clocking out of his little booth. “They were both here for a little bit with the crowd waiting for the foals to get home. Then they go up and wandered off with another mare.”

“Who?” asked Twilight. “One of the other moms?”

“No, I don’t think so,” continued Ticket as he packed his briefcase. “She didn’t look to be from around these parts, else I would’ve recognized her.” He took his time card in his mouth and punched out, just as his replacement punched in with a polite tip of his blue cap.

“Can you describe her?” asked Lyra.

“Well she weren’t nobody’s mom, I can tell you that. Young thing, maybe ‘bout your age. Almond color coat and black mane, all done up in a bob like them Manehattan gals like it.”

“But you’re sure she’s from out of town?”

“Yep, though I don’t think she came in on the train. Would’ve recognized a pretty gal like her. Eyes were as red as rubies, yes ma’am.”

“Wait,” said Gilda. “Red eyes? Brown coat?”

“Yeah. Almond shade of brown, actually, miss,” said Ticket, ignoring the griffon’s worried look.

“What was her cutie mark?” asked Gilda, a sense of dread creeping into her voice.

“A pair of sickles, actually,” said Ticket. “Must be a wheat farmer or something, though I never heard tell of a pegasus farmer ‘round these parts.”

Gilda’s wings began to flutter anxiously at her sides.

“Which way did they go?” asked Twilight, her own sense of dread began to grow.

“I saw them take the road along the tracks out of town. Looked like they were headed up to the old Boulder place.”

“‘Boulder’?” asked Twilight.

Ticket Ride gave a small chuckle. “Long before your time here in town, Miss Sparkle. Old Boulder owned a quarry outside of town, built herself a decent-sized house for herself and her herd. The quarry did well for itself, ‘til that granddaughter of hers made it go under. Family moved out of there ‘bout ten years ago and it’s been sitting there ever since. Shame too. Used to be a real cozy place.”

“Thanks, Mr. Ride, but we have to run!” Twilight and the other soon dashed off, leaving Ticket Ride shaking his head and mumbling about young ponies always being in a hurry.

* * *

Lero flinched in horror, recognizing the less… savory part of the “Speculative Human Fiction” movement that had started since his arrival. The part for those inclined for more… sensual tastes, including the one that started it all: Pink Palette’s Pornographic Pamphlet.

Some of the erotica was human-on-human. But the majority of the others were human-on-Equestrian. Ponies, primarily, but also human-on-griffin, human-on-minotaur, and even a few human-on-donkey, (whatever the pairing, most of illustrators clearly had no clue how human beings were supposed to bend, and NONE knew how they looked naked.) Lero had always found it horribly embarrassing, much to the amusement of his herd. So he’d never looked into any of it too deeply... but now, some of the images pitched at him included stuff that really WAS dark and wrong. He cringed, attempting to look away as some of it bounced off him.

The skewbald unicorn with the atrocious accent gleefully joined in the pornographic barrage with her telekinesis. “Oi shudder ta think what foul, heinous, deviant misdeeds would ensue if our world and teh Human World were ever ta establish a permanent working portal between themselves! Just think o’ teh wee little ankle boiters! Teh pornograpahers certainly did! Eee hee hee!”

Lero couldn’t stay silent at that. “That’s monstrous…” he said, horror in his voice.

* * *

The Boulder house may have been cozy once, but now it looked like the only things keeping it together were happy memories and the termites holding hands. It was to Twilight’s advantage however; the thick layers of dust provided all the clues they needed. There was a distinct set of bipedal shoeprints going inside and then drag marks showing that the owner was dragged back out back along with another pony. There were signs of a brief struggle and Twilight could taste the hint of ozone in the air where spells were cast. Several other sets of hoofprints were out back and a set of fresh wheel tracks marked the group’s exit.

The track led north, towards the old quarry.

“There were a lot of them,” remarked Lyra, glancing at the collection of hoofprints. “Maybe eight? Nine counting the driver?”

“There’s over a dozen of them,” said Gilda.

“Really?” asked Twilight. “Because I only count about...”

“That pegasus mare would be traveling with over a dozen. That’s how many there were when I saw them.”

Everypony stopped and stared at the hen. Gilda made a noise sounding halfway between a sigh and growl. “And before you say anything, no, I didn’t mean I saw them today.” She turned back towards the others. “It was maybe a year ago.”

The griffin pulled up an overturned chair and sat in it.

“I’ve worked a lot of jobs, but this was one of the bad ones. There was this bar I got a gig as a bouncer back up at the Manehatten docks. Sailors can get pretty rowdy so they were looking for a tough griffon to break up fights. Easy money. Most the time, you pony dweebs are such pansies that just having a griffon in the bar is enough to make you think twice. And even some minotaurs know better than to mess with us.

“Anyways, one night, this gang comes in and pretty much takes over the place. I mean they knew how to party hard. Mares were up on the tables doing shots, whistling at any stallion that walked past them, lotta yelling and cursing and crap, they were a real wild bunch. I was waiting for the boss to make me toss them out, since usually that kind of stuff wouldn’t fly normally. I didn’t care. I actually thought to myself, ‘Hey, these ponies are actually kinda cool. Maybe I could hang out with them.’

“Then some stupid colt came up and tried to hit on one of the mares that didn’t want to be hit on. It was that same one that ticket puncher told us about: almond coat and black mane. I’ll never forget her… she was just really angry about something, but kept in her seat and barely spoke a word as she drank. The old guy had it all wrong. Those sickles weren’t there because she’s a plucking farmer. It’s what she uses to gut things with!”

Spike and Twilight gave a sharp gasp while Lyra remained neutral.

“That mare turned the colt into a gelding just like that!” Gilda snapped her claws to emphasize the point. “Right in the middle of the bar! And as that stupid kid was on the floor holding his bloody… stuff together, the rest of the gang just laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world! Especially the boss! That mare is completely nuts!”

“And what’s worse was that my boss, the bartender, told me not to interfere! Had this look in his eyes that said he’d seen this before. He sure as Tartarus didn’t like it, but he knew there was nothing he could do, not unless he ended up on the floor in a pile of his own giblets!”

Gilda gave the rest of the group a hard look. “And that’s who took R and your stallion. The Sicklefin gang.”

* * *

“I’LL TELL YOU WHAT’S MONSTROUS!” Honeydew shrieked at him, much to the goons’ surprise, and Exit Wound’s amusement. She breathed hard, regaining her composure. “You are. It’s not right. It’s not natural. And I’m not even talking about the whole sexual aspect of it all, this time: NO ONE is THAT charismatic! NO ONE is THAT adored!”

She stalked back and forth in front of that hated beast, her words coming faster, her suspicions that she’d kept inside for so long spilling out all at once. “Not unless… something else is at play. Some magical mind-controlling glamour. Some undetectable alien monkey pheromone you’re secreting that compels others to love you, one which only I remain immune to! You even took my sisters from me!”

Her train of thought was interrupted by an annoying, snide little voice she so wished she could stomp to pieces! “And so because ‘no law-abiding citizen’ would give a girl like you the time of day… you turned to criminals for help, didn’t you?” Rarity asked.

She stared at Rarity several moments, seething at her. How could a hero of Equestria be so weak to fall? Finally, her brain registered the question. “Of course! I couldn’t do it alone, I couldn’t do it without help! Thanks to you. I hate you for this, as well, driving me to a desperate act like this! But action must be taken… no sacrifice is too great!”

In her fury, she threw her pompoms to the ground before she snapped her attention back to the monkey.

“You’re softening us up… all of ponykind into complacency! You’ve even gone so far as to turn our greatest heroes — the Bearers of the Elements of Harmony — into your besotted love-slaves, so that the Rainbow of Light cannot be deployed against you!”

She stalked up to him, grabbing him by his collar, shaking him. “When will the Human Invasion commence?! When do the motherships arrive?!” she screamed heroically in his dastardly face.

“LET HIM GO!” Rarity bellowed, throwing herself against the bars of the cage.

Honeydew glared at Rarity for several moments, before letting go, his head impacting with the hard ground, causing him to grunt in pain. “Loyal, aren’t you? Is that your Element talking, or the alien mind control?” She stalked away, shaking her head, before pausing, with a smirk.

“What kind of mare are you?” For the first time, Honeydew was actually seeing Rarity crying; hot, angry tears. “All this to… to hurt a stallion?! Have you no honor?! Mares aren’t ever supposed to attack stallions like this, not even ones they don’t like! And Lero’s just so absolutely lovable, the sweetest, kindest, friendliest, most helpful and noble-hearted prince of a stallion…”

Honeydew sneered at Rarity. “...What a wretched mare you must be, Rarity, knowing that your ultra-stupendous ‘stallion’… isn’t.”

The marshmallow fluff of a pony shook her head fiercely. “I’m not wretched at all! I’m perfectly fine with how my stallion is!”

Honeydew leered at her. “Oh, really? There’s a funny story, I heard it on the grapevine, something about how our resident Element Of Magic actually managed to transform your Super Simian into an actual stallion… a true equine! More than a few times, in fact.”

Rarity glared at Honeydew. “And your point is?”

“Now why would yeh go do a thing loike that if teh shape o’ his body didn’t bother yeh?” Exit Wound cut in.

The caged pervert bared her teeth, anger flashing in her eyes. “What we choose to do in our herd is none of your business!”

Honeydew rolled her eyes. Disgust dripped from her voice as she explained. “It’s because the mares of Herd Bonobo are keen to give birth to foals with alien monkey blood in their genetic code. What a thing to unleash upon the next generation’s dating pool!”

Exit Wound nudged Honeydew with her hip. “Heeeey, yeh ever seen Prince Mandrill, here, in stallion form, Dewy?”

She shook her head. “Not with my own eyes, no. But in between all the bouts of fornication, I heard they’d actually set aside time to take our magic-made stallion pal out to fancy restaurants and movies and such! There’ve been no shortage of witnesses, so don’t try to deny it, Rarity.”

“And why would I? I wouldn’t be taking him out in public if I were ashamed of him!”

Honeydew smiled at Exit Wound and Exit smiled back.

“Ashamed?” asked the Sicklefin underboss. “We weren’t suggesting anything o’ teh sort!”

“Huh?” asked Rarity.

“Not at all!” Honeydew professed, in the same sweetly innocent tone of voice. “Personally, I feel that all these repeated transformations demonstrate a subconscious, unintentional admission on your part, Rarity: that when you’re a mare, there’s simply no substitute for a real stallion. Which is to be congratulated!”

Rarity and her monkey regarded them with confusion and an admittedly understandable lack of trust.

* * *

After hearing Gilda’s story, Spike was silent for a moment before saying, “Well, then we have to hurry!”

“What? No, pluck that!” shouted Gilda as she took to the air and hovered unsteadily around the group. “I told you idiots about those psychos so you would know to leave this alone! You can’t go up against these guys!”

“We’ve faced worse before,” said Lyra with cold determination.

“And I thought you were Rarity’s friend!” accused Twilight. “How could you just abandon her to those ponies?!”

“I may have been her friend once,” countered Gilda, “but not so much that I would go after an armed gang of thugs like the Sicklefins!” She gained a little more altitude. “If you crazies want to go get yourselves killed, fine by me!” At this Gilda turned away. “Just leave me out of it!”

And with that, she was gone, veering back southwest towards Ponyville. A blur of bright color caught their eye and Twilight and Lyra saw Rainbow Dash approaching from the south. The pegasus came to a full stop in front of them.

“Girls!” she shouted. “I heard you came out here! Did you find anything?! Are they here?! And… was that Gilda just now?!”

Lyra and Twilight looked at each other and then back to their herd sister. “We think we know where Rarity and Lero are,” said Twilight.

“It’s not a worst-case scenario,” said Lyra, “but it’s pretty bad, Rainbow.”

* * *

“The problem, as I see it,” Honeydew continued, “is that you and your herd-sisters have tried transforming your ape into a stallion multiple times, but he keeps changing right back, doesn’t he? The transformation doesn’t stick.”

“Stick?” repeated the baboon, clearly disliking the inflection Honeydew had placed on that word.

“We thought we’d help with that.” Exit Wound told him.

Today, the bonobo was clad in a vomitous green shirt and fecal brown pants. The white color of his shoes and socks put Honeydew immediately in mind of cobwebs and spider eggs.

Exit Wound officially ended the preliminary banter and got the main event going by lowering her head and firing a magical blast at the primate’s torso. A circle of fire the size of a cookie ignited at once on the center of his pukey shirt.

Yelping ridiculously, the bonobo then attempted to beat the fire out just by slapping at it with his bare hands… and actually succeeded. Undeterred, Exit Wound then shot more fire-blasts at other parts of his stupid shirt; along the collar, near the lower belly, by the left armpit.

“Strip it off, hot stuff! Strip it ALL off!”

And the other gangsters behind them started up a chant: “Strip! Strip! Strip! Strip!”

Suddenly, the ape’s eyes went unfocused for a moment before his panicked expression vanished startlingly fast, and he proceeded to strip off his clothes. Exit Wound didn’t even have time to set his footwear or socks on fire while they were on his body; she had to wait until they’d been thrown on the floor. Then he divested himself of his pants. To Honeydew’s surprise, had a set of white underclothes beneath those pants, but off it went, all in a pile that Exit Wound set to burning.

“Hey!” cried out Gabby the griffin in the back. “Someone’d better do something about those clothes before they set the smut rags on fire!”

So the monkey’s clothes were levitated safely away.

Much to her surprise and annoyance, the bonobo wasn’t in a state of self-conscious panic, not seeming at all horrified at having nothing to wear in front of so many eyes but his sweaty, fleshy birthday suit.

“Well?” he asked Honeydew, coldly, arms akimbo. “Is it everything you ever hoped for?”

“Why, you…!!!” Honeydew started, before being cut off.

“Ladies!” the Sicklefin underboss crowed. “Take yersevles a gander at teh sexual tyrannosaurus we got here! Hung loike a field mouse, he is!”

The room shook with uproarious laughter and snide remarks. Honeydew relished every second of it. At last, she UNDERSTOOD why he wore clothes: shame that his gonads could not measure up to his own hype! Or even the most average of stallions! Just as she’d suspected from the beginning!

“So TOINY!” Exit Wound cackled. “So shriveled into his scrote! EEE HEE HEE HAW HAW HAW!!! Haw haw haa... oh, bollix, Oi think ya done made me broke meself! Eee hee hee! Hey, Coconuts! How much ya wanna bet me CLIT’S bigger than yer puny splutterpump?!”

Exit turned around, looking to have more than half a mind to have one of her mares fetch a ruler or some measuring tape.

“Hey, Miss Big Clit, answer me this: were you a colt BEFORE becoming a mare? Or are you planning on MAKING yourself a colt for your next birthday?”

Exit Wound spun like a teacher struck by a spitball. “Teh FECK?!”

“Well, as long as we’re descending to vicious, low-blow potshots,” Rarity explained from her birdcage, “I’m asking if you’re happy with the gender you were born into. I mean, there’s tomboyish mares, and then there’s YOU.”

“Yeh’d better shut yer mouldy gowlflaps, ya bottle-squatting swamp donkey!” Exit Wound seethed. “Else, Oi swear on me solemn oath, yer whole body’s gonna look loike a changeling’s’ legs!”

“Admit it, why don’t you?!” Even Honeydew felt a certain awe at Rarity’s suicidal fearlessness. “This gang, the crime, the money... it's all to hide it! Your biggest ambition in life is to be some mare’s saddleblanket!"

To herself, Honeydew could admit she’d reached much the same conclusion about Exit Wound within ten minutes of their first meeting. But aloud, she didn’t dare to say a thing, as Exit’s head bent and shot a thin, fast beam through the birdcage bars. It hit Rarity’s right foreleg, just above the hoof.

Screaming gloriously, Rarity fell to a squat, partly in pain and partly to stem the bleeding.

The baboon finally reacted, a look of panic crossing his face. “Rarity!”

Exit Wound span to face the ape so fast, her thin-rimmed glasses flew off her face, and she had to catch them with magic.

“QUOIET, both o’ yah! Chitchat toime’s fecking over and done with!”

The two captives fell silent, eyeing Exit Wound like the dangerous alligator she was, as she smiled her cruel smile.

“But now… that’s no way for any proper colt ta look! All bare bald skin, loike some koind o’ fecking piggy! SCREWS! Get up here, Screws!”

Tight Screws was one of Exit’s oldest gangsters, both in regards to her actual age, and how long she’d served as a Sicklefin. She trotted up with a large box, and opened its lid. The box was completely filled with ordinary tallow candles.

“Take a load off!” Exit invited the monkey, who jerked up into the air in a telekinetic field.

Honeydew knew all too well how much unicorns loved to show off with their magic. In this way, Exit Wound was no different than Rarity or Twilight Sparkle. What might’ve been fifty candles rose high into the air, along with the bonobo himself, so that the candles floated over his body like a frozen volley of arrows. No amateur mage could’ve pulled off a stunt like this, and the whole room was properly awed.

Then, in a twist of new magic, all the floating candles melted STRAIGHT into bubbling waxen blobs, all at once. Exit gave the chimp a few seconds to regard the floating tallow puddles and close his eyes before she let the hot wax splatter all over his front. Into his face and beard it dropped, coating his torso, arms, legs, and crotch. There was a muffled groan of pain as he kept his mouth shut to prevent it from being swamped with wax. Rarity’s shriek was far more satisfactory, though.

Then, Exit Wound’s telekinesis flipped the monkey’s body over like shish kabob meat on a griffin’s roasting spit. However, as the torture continued, the biped suddenly stiffened, then seemed to relax, as if suddenly indifferent to the pain. More candles were levitated, melted, and a second coat of hot wax fell upon the biped’s back side.

“...What’s with this buzzkillin’ ballbag?” Honeydew heard Exit mutter under her breath, before rotating him around so they were face-to-face. “Well...?”

“Rarity?” The gorilla said calmly, looking levelly at Exit Wound.

“...Yes?” she asked.

“When the big scary head honcho mobster gets back, could you tell her that her Grandma tried working me over?”

Exit Wound glared at the insolent beast. “Hey, Shoes! Yer up!”

Another gangster, whose full name was Cement Shoes, levitated several metal trash cans into the spotlight, and opened them, showing how they were filled to the brim with shaggy masses of pony fur.

It was hardly a traditional use of a crime boss’ connections and resources, but all this fur had been painstakingly gathered from the floor sweepings of many, many, many barbershops and hair salons. Thus, the fur was a kaleidoscopic ragbag of every conceivable pony color: bright and dull, pastel and solid, glossy fur, oily fur, rough and scratchy fur… EVERYTHING. Along with no small amount of dirt, grit, and other nastiness that the beauticians’ brooms had swept up as well.

Like a griffon chef turning a raw chicken breast in breadcrumbs, Exit Wound rolled the monkey in pony fur, so that it clung to the sticky wax coating his body.

“Stand up, and let’s fecking have a look at teh shape o’ yeh!”

She cancelled her magic while the gorilla was still in midair, so Rarity’s pet fell on its face. He got to his feet, bleeding a little from his nose, looking like nothing more than a giant technicolor dust bunny. However, his level glare hadn’t stopped.

“Whaddaya think, Dewy?” Exit had to speak loudly over the hysterical laughter of her gang.

“I think with such a handsome pelt as that, you don’t have to worry about being naked, don’t you, Mr. Stallion?”

The primate just glared at her coldly, even though his new fur did an admirable job of covering up the male parts he was so rightfully ashamed to let others see.

“DON’T you, Mr. Stallion?!” How she hated the way he always did his best to ignore her, not speak to her, treat her like a nonentity.

“JUST YOU WAIT ‘TIL I’M OUT OF THIS CAGE!” Rarity shrieked, kicking once again at the bars of her cage. “FIRST, I’M GOING TO RIP THAT HORN OF YOURS OUT FROM YOUR SKULL AND SHOVE IT UP YOUR ROTTEN SNATCH AND TWIST IT TO YANK OUT YOUR MISBEGOTTEN WOMB, WHICH I WILL FORCE-FEED YOU UNTIL YOU CHOKE ON IT! AND THAT IS NOTHING, NOTHING, COMPARED TO WHAT I’LL DO TO HONEYDEW! NAMELY…!!!!!”

The white weather-witch proceeded to describe, in very lurid detail, what she intended to do first to Honeydew, and the whole Sicklefin gang, all while the two-legged fuzzball just examined them with a cold glare. The level of hostility astounded even Exit Wound, who turned to face Honeydew.

“Oi’m startin’ tah think maybe yah’ve got more in common with that headwrecker than anyone would’ve guessed.”

“COMMON?!?! ME?!?!” Honeydew exploded. It was the very first time she had ever startled Exit Wound. “I HAVE NOTHING IN COMMON WITH THAT PEGASUS-BORN-IN-THE-WRONG-BODY!!!! I AM THE SWORN ARCHENEMY OF ALL MANKIND, AND SHE IS ITS MOST SLATHERING, SLOBBERING, SALIVATING LICKSPITTLE!!!”

Seething with fresh anger, she span around on the two-legged creature. “Just LOOK at you! Standing there on those misshapen legs of yours like that extra bit of height makes you BIGGER than all us ponies! BETTER than us ponies! Well, if you want to BE a stallion so badly, then you can STAND like stallions do!”

Then she ran behind the chimp and kicked him in the back of the legs, so that he fell forward onto the flat of his hands and his feet.

“Not so tall NOW, are ya?!”

“Folded loike a feckin’ newspaper!” Exit chortled from where she stood, all smiles again as she took a step forward, horn gleaming again.

“Hmmm… let’s see, now, the transformation’s certainly comin’ along noicely, Lero… d’ya mind me callin’ yeh ‘Lero?’... but we’re not there yet. Cuz Oi’m seeing ratty li’l digits wrigglin’ at teh end o’ yer limbs where there oughta be nothin’ but noice, solid, undivided hooves.“

This time, Exit Wound didn’t bother with any of her minions. Her own magic levitated another box forward, and brought out a mass of obsidian. Watching her mold it straight over Lero’s hands and feet was as mesmerizing to Honeydew as it was agonizing to the bonobo. The obsidian hooves were downright beautiful when Exit was finished; no jeweler could have made them so undeservedly handsome.

The bonobo muttered something. “What was that?” Honeydew snapped.

He looked up at her, with an odd gleam in his blue eyes. “I said: 'please, Brer Pony, please don't fling me in dat dere briar-patch!'”

Honeydew smashed her hoof into his smug face. “What’s that even supposed to mean?!”

He spat out blood, turning to look back at her. “It means: ‘please, ma’am, may I have another?’”

Honeydew yelled in anger, smashing him in the face over and over. “I AM TIRED OF YOUR SMUG NONSENSE!”

“Stop it! STOP IT!” shrieked his puffy white consort.

Suddenly, Honeydew was held back by a hoof: Exit Wound’s on her shoulder.

“Now, now, Dewy, ease up, me auld flower. Don’t forget who’s got the upper hoof on who tonoight! Still got lots of fun planned before we’re done with ‘em!”

“I think I finally get you,” Rarity spoke to Exit Wound. “You’re not simply a masculine girl. You’re a throwback straight to our Dark Ages. At least my sweet stallion is his own free thinker… but you? You’re only useful to this mare…”

Here, the white unicorn’s eyes flashed at Honeydew.

“...As a source of hard labor and sexual gratification. And, sadly, not only do you not have any proper stallionhood of your own… but you’re doing this all for Honeydew, of all possible mares. Talk about atrocious taste!”

Above everything else, Exit Wound was two things: a sadist and a sharpshooter. Thus, when she opened fire on her, she did not aim for any part of Rarity’s body that would cause instantaneous death. Rather, she shot to inflict agony. She shot so that the noisy banshee would watch her life bleed away from dozens of ghastly new holes. Honeydew had seen it happen before.

Over and over, Exit shot; steadily and unhurried. One could’ve almost timed her blasts on a musician’s metronome. Not a single hit missed.

“Stop! Don’t you dare kill her!” the bonobo roared.

“Feck yeh and teh tree yeh were born in!” Exit retorted, and Rarity’s right shoulder took its third magic blast. “Oi’m a croime queen, and Oi kill who Oi want!”

“If you kill Rarity, or any of the other five Element Bearers… you might as well be slitting the throats of everyone here, including your own!”

The icy certainty in the human’s powerful voice gave Exit Wound pause. It gave the whole room pause, as well, including Honeydew. No one wanted their throats slit.

“Alroight, Oi’ll boite,” Exit said, turning to face him. “Pray tell, what in teh bloody name of fecking are ya on about?!”

The human stood back on two legs instead of four.

“I wasn’t there in person the first time Discord got free from his stone prison,” he began. “That was before I got here. But everypony I’ve asked remembers that day with crystal clarity. ‘The Day Of Chaos,’ they call it. The day the sun and moon chased each other like greyhounds at a racetrack. The day where houses flew, the ground turned to checkerboard, and cola and chocolate milk rained from the sky.”

The whole room went silent and wide-eyed.

“I see none of you have forgotten, either.” The human looked over at his pony bedmate; even Rarity listened intently to his words.

“Princess Celestia sent the Element Bearers out to stop Discord and he… touched my sweet Rarity’s mind. All the other Bearers’ minds too. Changed them into ponies they weren’t. And I know for a fact that they weren’t the only ones. My neighbors, Big Macintosh and Granny Smith… so many others…”

For a naked man with all colors of pony fur stuck to him, it was uncanny how much dignity he was able to muster out of nowhere.

“How many of you did he also touch that day?” he asked the lot of them.

The suddenly-toothy cobblestones had snapped resentfully at Honeydew’s hooves as she ran atop them, desperately dodging winged saxophones that swooped down on her like angry crows. Then HE had appeared, in a thick poof of playing cards.

“Well, well, well!” He had said, eyeing her snidely. “Looks like this one's got a truckload of emotional baggage just begging to be played with! Let’s see…” and then he snapped his fingers.

Then the next thing Honeydew knew, she was a fourteen-year-old again, trapped in something resembling a time loop, or an endlessly repeating film. She was returning home after having just watched that Pony Chicks movie at the theater, and was letting herself in through the front door of her house.

Then voices from upstairs had drawn her attention, voices she recognized as her mother’s and a strange male. Up the stairs Honeydew went, silently as hooves would allow for, until she stood before the door of the bedroom her beloved father and mothers slept in. It was unlocked when she nudged it open.

There sat Honeymoon, the mare who’d given birth to her and Honeybee and Honeysuckle, in the lap of that great gorilla-ish minotaur, Bronze Bell. The two of them ground together in tandem. The homewrecker gave a shuddery moan as he exploded inside Honeydew’s heroic mother, his thick monkey hands coiled around her forelegs.

Her mother’s eyes snapped open, staring at her horrified daughter with shock and dismay. And then time looped backwards on itself, and Honeydew was returning home after having just watched that Pony Chicks movie at the theater, and was letting herself in through the front door of her house, and when she reached the part where she walked in on her mother with that bull-headed ape, the pain hadn’t dulled but was fresh, fresher than before, and then time looped backwards on itself, and Honeydew was returning home after having just watched that Pony Chicks movie at the theater, and was letting herself in through the front door of her house…

...Again and again and again… and if Discord had gotten his way, Honeydew might well have been stuck reliving that moment endlessly for all time, but the Elements of Harmony had prevailed, Order and Sanity were restored to Equestria, and Honeydew was free to live her life.

Except, in one sense, she hadn’t been freed at all. In one sense, Honeydew was still reliving that horrible moment, again and again. To this day.

Honeydew had not stopped reliving that moment since the night it had actually happened to her, back when she was fourteen years old.

“Why’re yah bringing that auld pigshit up now?!” Exit Wound snarled, the heat in her voice revealing that a nerve had been touched. “What does that motherless wankshaft have ta do with anything?!”

“Well, as you know, the only thing capable of beating Discord is the Rainbow of Light. Making the Rainbow requires all six Element Bearers,” the human explained.

Then he pointed at Rarity.

“The Bearers are the only thing keeping Discord in check.”

All the other gangsters were moaning and muttering and hugging themselves and exchanging worries between themselves. Discord had visited MILLIONS of people on his Day of Chaos to toy with their minds: from Ponyville to Bitaly to Saddle Arabia. The human had no idea how fortuitous he was to have skipped all that.

“Teh… Teh… Celestia… Celestia, she can just…” Exit Wound stammered.

“…Hold auditions and cast an Element of Loyalty understudy?”

It was like the human was some hopelessly clever schoolteacher admonishing a dunce pupil with failing grades.

“What, you have another thousand years to wait around? That’s how long it took to find these Bearers. And that’s after the Elements rejected Princess Celestia herself! Celestia served her people loyally for over a thousand years despite having the powers of a goddess. Can the world count on the Sicklefin Gang to find someone more loyal than that, while Discord’s running amok?”

It was like no torture had taken place at all. Exit Wound seemed to be choking. All around Honeydew, the other gangsters’ troubled noises built and built.

“Kill Rarity, and Discord’s got no leash,” the human proclaimed, standing upright on his obsidian hooves with barely a wobble. “Kill Rarity, and you’ve made us all draconequus playthings for all the rest of eternity. And even if he’s not feeling up to messing with us, who’s to say the next power-mad tyrant isn’t something worse, like a magic-eating monster or something?”

Exit Wound’s second-in-command approached. “Boss… what’re we gonna do?” Blunt Trauma asked. “Does this mean we have tah keep this mare alive?!”

“Shut et, Blunt! Oi’m THINKING!” With her magic, Exit took off her hat and wiped away sweat as she looked at her badly bleeding captive. “For now, nopony touch her!”

And with great nervousness, Exit Wound sent waves of healing magic over Rarity.

“Oi won’t let him scramble me brains again!” Honeydew heard Exit mutter feverishly. “Oi WON’T send meself inta teh poorhouse a second toime! Me money’s moine! MOINE! Them thieving leukemia charities and soup kitchens won’t bankrupt me ever again!”

But you’re no Element of Harmony. Honeydew thought at the human darkly.

Rarity must’ve read her mind, for she took one look her way, and started blubbering, “Lero… I can’t… I can’t let them hurt you… my sweet prince… I can’t let my sweet prince be hurt…”

“It’s okay, princess.” The human licked his lips. “Rarity, your life is the one that’s most important. Not mine. Everything you just heard me say… I wasn’t just blowing smoke. You’re an Element Bearer, and the whole world depends on you to stand strong with the other Element Bearers and defend it from the forces of evil. If you died, no one could ever replace you.”

“What about you?” Even with Exit closing her wounds, she looked more wretched than ever, and her voice shook. “Who could ever replace YOU?”

The human shrugged. “I don’t matter,” he told her calmly. “I never really mattered. This world would’ve gotten along perfectly fine without me and will keep doing fine when I’m gone. When’s all said and done, I was never anything more than a curiosity in this world.”

The weathermare stared at the human she loved, eyes overflowing with tears, and strangled keening noises from her throat.

“You have to live,” the human continued. “These thugs…”

And he shots sharp glowers at Exit, Honeydew, and all the other gangsters behind him.

“...they know what’s at stake if you die. They value their self-preservation, so they’re going to keep you alive. Don’t antagonize them. Don’t make a single noise they don’t want you to make. You’re the Element of Loyalty. You have so many bigger things to be loyal to. Celestia, Luna, Equestria, Ponyville, all your friends, and our family. You need to be strong for them all. They’ll need you. Whatever happens to me… just live happy and strong, my love.”

The human’s smile was soft and genuine. Honeydew could scarcely bring herself to credit the selflessness he had spoken with. Her heart throbbed and her lungs seized up to hear it, leaving her stunned straight to her core. This was who she’d been fighting? This person?

What for?

What was it all for…?

“What? What is with this, Bee? You suddenly think it’s okay for ponies to hump monsters? You turning into Mom or something? I mean, you got her wings, maybe you got some more, too...”

“Don’t you say that!” Honeybee had snarled back at her. “Don’t you dare, sis. This has nothing to do with Mom, I’m not abandoning you two…

Honeydew stared down at the cheerleader uniform on her body, at the pigtails that didn’t belong on a mare her age. Dyed blonde. Because blonde was how Exit Wound preferred her hookers.

Honeybee…

Honeysuckle…

Widescreen…

Ivory Keys…

Her sweet little foals…

Had she betrayed them all for absolutely nothing?!

Red rage roasted her heart. Ponies were shouting words at her, but there was too much fury for her to hear as she knocked the demon bonobo down to the ground, biting down on his heinous face with a pit bull’s fury. His screams only made her dig her teeth in harder. The venomous snake! Planting doubts in her mind!

Where did this Archfiend of Lust get the GALL, acting all valiant and purehearted?! He was just MOCKING her and everything she’d suffered and sacrificed for this moment! She had sensed his malevolence from the start! He had forced her to become what she was now! Well, she’d show him! She’d bring him down! She’d show him true pain!

“You’re going to die without a shred of dignity,” she swore, standing up and spitting out putrescent primate blood, as his hooved hands covered his bitten face.

“Scrounger! Scrounger! Scrounger The Dog! Get over here!”

“Already, Dewy?” asked Exit, incredulously. “But we haven’t nailed teh horseshoes onta his new hooves! We ain’t even fecking stuck his new tail up his tailhole!”

“Don’t care!” Honeydew yelled. “It’d just get in his way! SCROUNGER!”

* * *

Off to the side, a door opened in the darkness. The footfalls of the newcomer who’d been patiently waiting all this while were slow and markedly soft, especially compared to the clatter hooves made. A soft, padding step and the faint clack of claws on the floorboards. All the same, he wasn’t exactly noiseless. Not with the excited snuffling from his wet nose. Not with his deep, heavy open-mouthed panting. Not with the way the claws on his forearms scraped and dug across fur and skin.

Every single gangster all but flattened themselves against the far wall. Even Honeydew and her sugar mommy gang boss eyed the newcomer with no small amount of dread. The skewbald unicorn glanced upward and gave a signal to one of the ponies on the upper catwalk. It was almost with a sense of squeamish reluctance that this pony brought her spotlight to shine on the Diamond Dog who had entered.

Diamond Dogs repulsed Lero Michaelides. ‘Cave trolls spliced with canines,’ he’d called them once, (and how Rainbow Dash had laughed!)

Admittedly, part of it was their general physical unattractiveness: the lack of any of the cuteness so characteristic of their four-legged cousins. But what repulsed Lero most was how they could have made something of themselves.

Diamond Dogs had just as much sapience as ponies… and himself, for that matter. They’d been blessed with hands that could’ve crafted ingenious inventions. A capacity for spoken language, which could’ve given voice to poetry, love songs, and groundbreaking philosophical insights. Had they simply put their minds to it, Diamond Dogs could easily have done as minotaurs had, and crafted their own respectable civilization. Possibly even founded an empire! Just where had their race gone so wrong?

But this one… the one they were shining the spotlight on, the one sizing him up…

“Don’t you think Scrounger The Dog’s beautiful?” questioned the dog.

Lero might’ve lied. Or he might’ve gone for brutal honesty.

“Don’t you look at Scrounger The Dog’s body and think: gorgeous dog! Breathtaking and bedazzling dog! Loveliest dog in all dogdom!”

Lero was too sickened to ask himself which breed of regular dog Scrounger closest resembled. But his head was a big, squarish thing, and so was his muzzle; his ears were floppy and hung low. He stood at almost the same height that Lero did, with a dense pelt of cream-colored fur.

And Lero had first taken him for an undead creature. An actual zombie, brought back by a necromancer’s magic. The possibility that this ghoul of a Diamond Dog might actually still be living came slowly, and intensified the human’s horror. If this dog was alive: HOW?! In his condition, how could he even bring himself to stand upright? Why was he here, and not in a hospital? Or a hospice? Or better still, under quarantine? This Diamond Dog was a code red health hazard to everyone within a two-mile radius!

For the body of Scrounger The Dog amounted to nothing but a walking, breathing, self-aware incubator of innumerable diseases. Even if Lero were a doctor, he didn’t know if it were possible to count just how many infested this dog.

Scrounger’s obscenely long and dangling canine tongue swelled with bulbous verrucas. Cold sores abounded along every inch of his gums. The dog’s fangs showed not the faintest trace of white, all black and brown and mustard yellow. Lesions circled his mouth.

The left half of Scrounger’s face hung limp and slack from some form of partial facial paralysis, though his right half was curled up in a horrible smile. Vile predatory intentions shone at Lero through Scrounger’s vastly bloodshot, herpes-infested eyeballs.

“You make such a foxy stallion,” panted Scrounger the Dog, wincing ever-so-slightly with each step. There were rashes on the dog’s feet, and he walked with a strange limp, as though the nerves within his legs weren’t what they should be. More rashes gloved his forepaws as well, which were scratching along the many, many dermatological nightmares pervading his outer body. Particularly the places where the fur was thinnest or had fallen out entirely. Scrounger bled very easily, even from the lightest scrapes of his claws. All sorts of different fluids oozed out of the Diamond Dog.

“Scrounger’s heard how you liked to fiddle around with all the ponies, Mr. Human,” Scrounger The Dog told Lero. “Fiddle and diddle every one of them you can lay your paws on.”

Pus, thick as tomato soup, dripped from purple pustules. Grayish-white curds of what Lero might’ve mistaken for cottage cheese clung to fur beneath a row of nipple-like cysts. Frothy bluish-grey mucus discharged from cauliflower-like lumps. Thin reddish-pink fluid wept from watery blisters.

“Scrounger The Dog’s just the same as you. Scrounger’s fiddled. And Scrounger’s didded.”

Arguably, Scrounger’s body odor was his second-grossest physical trait. He reeked of decaying tuna, cloying ammonia, and rotted onions, of soured milk, spoiled garlic, bad eggs and moldy bread, of pungent mushrooms, algae, and sopping wet medical waste, of dog feces, dog urine, dog vomit, and wet dog. Lero’s eyes watered harder the more of Scrounger he had to breathe in.

“And after Scrounger’s done with you,” The Diamond Dog promised, stopping directly in front of him, towering from Lero’s position on all fours, “Soon enough, you’ll be every bit as pretty as he is! And then you can pass that prettiness onto all your ponies friends when you fiddle and diddle them.”

There’d been a few times, in his chats with the Swapped Five, where Lero Micheadlies had felt he wasn’t actually conversing with ponies, (even deluded ones) so much as the cutie marks, themselves, which used their new hosts’ bodies as their flesh-and-blood sock puppets.

Similarly, the longer Lero listened to this creature talk, the stronger it seemed that the one actually speaking wasn’t the canine, but the sinister collective of STDs which dwelt within Scrounger The Dog. A illogical, irrational, nutso thing to think, no question. Yet still pervasive, somehow, and every bit as repugnant as it sounded.

“Ravage him, Scrounger,” Honeydew commanded. “I want to see you to ravage every hole on him.”

“The ears too?” Scrounger asked eagerly. “The nose too?”

“Go ta fecking town on ‘im, Scrounge,” said the porkpie-wearing unicorn Honeydew stood next to. “Give ‘im a few new bloody holes ta remember yeh by. S’wot Oi’d do.”

“Scrounger’s pretty sure he’ll never see such a nose or such ears ever again…”

His paws clamped down on Lero’s cheeks, and he started off by bending forward and licking the human’s face with gusto and no end of slobber. Scrounger’s stumpy tail wagged vigorously behind him.

“Oh, oh, this is so wonderful!” Lero heard Honeydew say. “At last, I finally feel like I can be completely happy again!”

“Et was worth every weird thing Oi jammed up yar tailholes?” asked the skewbald unicorn.

“Oh, yes! Oh, yes!”

“Even teh moice?” asked the Sicklefin underboss, saccharine sweet.

Honeydew spoke no answer. Under other circumstances, Lero would have loved to have seen the look on her face… but that would require opening his eyelids. And he could not afford such to risk that bumpy, disease-ridden tongue touching his eyes. He kept his mouth tightly shut for the same reason, and even tried his best to squelch his nostrils together.

“Open your mouth!” Scrounger demanded, between fervent licks. “Open your mouth for me! Scrounger wants to taste your tongue!”

All it takes is a transfer of fluids, Lero heard his old sex ed teacher warn in his mind.

One single ‘love bite’ from a guy like Scrounger...

Suddenly, Lero could no longer feel the dog’s putrid mouth on his face. Scrounger’s paws were still holding his cheeks, he could feel the claws and the whitlows at the tips of the dog’s paws, but that was it. What was going on? With bated breath, he dared to crack open an eye.

Lero Michealides was not the sort of man who enjoyed gaping at male genitalia, even on the best of days. In this society of nudists, he’d always taken pains to aim his eyes everywhere but that area in the company of stallions.

The twisted, half-necrotic, knotted organ between Scrounger The Dog’s legs, with its jungle of unspeakable venereal growths rooted into it, was exponentially more gut-wringing than all the rest of him put together, six times over. Up it rose, until it was pointed straight at him. As much a promise of a grisly end as the barrel of any gun.

“This is gonna hurt,” Scrounger The Dog whined somewhat miserably as he hardened. “Fiddling always hurts sooo much now. Not like the old days. But when’s the next time Scrounger’s gonna be able to diddle a human?”

“LERO!”

Down from the catwalk flew a pegasus mare no one was expecting to show up. A mare with a cyan-colored coat, a rainbow mane and tail, magenta eyes, and three butterflies on her flank, who wore a sports cap and a whistle around her neck. She landed by Lero’s side, startling Scrounger The Dog into stumbling a few steps backwards.

How had Rainbow Dash found this place, wherever it was? How had she snuck into this room, under all these gangsters’ noses?

But the next second, Rainbow found a large, bespectacled, and very furious skewbald unicorn jabbing the glowing point of her horn against the center of her throat, as though it were the tip of a spear.

Author's Note

The human stepped aside, and Rainbow quickly summarized what Honeybee had told her, ending with, “...so I just wanted to warn you. Be careful, big guy.”

He nodded soberly. “I’m not going to let [Honeydew] scare me, but I’ll remember and be careful.” The human smiled at her. “Thanks, Dash. I promise I’ll watch my back.”

She nodded, and let him turn to head back to help Spike. Yeah, and I’ll be watching your back, too, she promised silently, glancing at Lyra and nodding. We all will.

...The very last words that AnonAuthor wrote for his Xenophilia series were of Herd Bellerophon swearing to all be vigilantly on their guard against Honeydew.

The way I figure... there HAD to be a reason.

I'd like to thank everyone on my team for helping me with this, once again. Rikmach, Southpaw, SpinelStride, and BadWolf9510, to whom I owe special thanks for writing an important segment of this chapter for me.

Please give his spinoff story, Into The Hedge, a look.

And help keep Divided Rainbow's TV Tropes Page page updated.