//------------------------------//
// Chapter 3: Magical Lasso 
// Story: The Secrets of Bitmore Theater 
// by Kegisak 
//------------------------------//


Magical Lasso


        “Flashlight?”
        “Check.”
        “Salt?”
        “Check.”
        “Net?”
        “Check.”
        “Iron?”
        Sweetie Belle held up two loops of twine, each one with several bolts tied in it at rough, uneven intervals. “Check!” She said with a grin.
        Silver Spoon smiled as she flipped her saddlebags shut. “Thanks,” she said, allowing Sweetie to loop one of the makeshift necklaces around her neck.
        “Now all we need is a way to get out of here...” Sweetie Belle said. She kept her voice low as she scanned the room. They were behind the ticketing booths, in the theater's manager's office. It had been one of the first rooms renovated months ago, and it was already beginning to show small signs of being lived-in. Faint tobacco stains painted the ceiling above the large, mahogany desk near the back wall, and the cabinets along either wall had already been filled with ledgers. The desk itself was a clutter of papers, save only for a small clearing where Silver Spoon's father was currently resting his hooves.
        He, his wife, and Kelson had all managed to pile into the small room with Sweetie and Silver. They had distracted themselves enough with the small details of the renovation that Silver and Sweetie had been able to discuss their plans freely, if under their breaths, but Sweetie Belle couldn't help but frown. So long as they were all there, she and Silver would be stuck in the room. With the Phantom doing who-knew-what, any moment stuck in the office was a moment she was reluctant to give up.
        Silver, however, seemed unfazed by the setback. She leaned back in her chair and folded her forelegs. A smile flashed across her lips. “Don't worry about it,” she murmured. “I give it... five minutes. Two, if you follow my lead.” Then she took on an expression of profound, almost divine boredom. The very air around her seemed to turn grey and dull.
        Rather than bored, it took a great amount of effort on Sweetie's part not to look impressed. She, too, however, folder her hooves and tried to mimic Silver's expression. She didn't think she had quite gotten it, but Silver's mouth twitched up in the faintest smile of approval.
        The two had been holding their expressions for—Sweetie Belle counted—just shy of three minutes when Silver's father spoke up. “Kelson,” he said sourly, “I'm positive that you teaching her that trick is a flogging offense.”
        “I'm sure I've no idea what’cher talkin' about,” Kelson said, barely stifling a laugh.
        Silver Sunlight sighed and looked up from his papers. “Silver, dear,” he said, voice dry. “You seem bored.”
        Silver Spoon shrugged and smiled. Her air of drabness drained away almost instantly. “A little,” she said. “Paperwork isn't really my idea of a good Saturday.”
        Sunlight nodded. “Yes, I suppose not,” he said. From his sympathetic frowned, Sweetie Belle imagined he felt the same way. “Well, I don't mean to drag you into this, but there are too many ponies working today for you to be running around.”
        “Didn't you bring a board game, dear?” Starling asked.
        “I did,” Silver replied. “Boggle. But, well... I didn't want to bother you guys with the noise...”
        A knowing nod rolled through the three adults. Sunlight hummed and rubbed his chin. “Well,” he said. “Well, well... I suppose some of the dressing rooms are free, and the power is working fine in them now. I don't suppose there's too much harm in letting you move to one of them... right dear?”
        Starling looked obstinate in her displeasure, and Sweetie was afraid she would keep them there. Eventually, however, Starling's expression softened. “Alright,” she said. “I suppose I wouldn't want to be cooped up in an office when I could be playing with a friend either. But!” She added, pointing a hoof at each filly in turn, “I expect you to be on your best behavior. Which means you stay in the room. I don't want to find you two getting under hoof, or worse, in the back rooms again. Is that clear?”
        “Yes, mom,” Silver said with a deferential nod.
        Starling nodded as well. “Alright then,” she said. “You two can go. I'll swing by in a few hours to check on you and let you know when lunch is ready.”
        “Okay,” Silver said as she got up from her chair. “Thanks, mom! We'll be fine.”
        Sweetie Belle slid down to follow after Silver, but paused as Starling spoke up again.
        “Sweetie, dear, could you wait for just a moment?”
        Sweetie blinked. Silver Spoon looked over her shoulder at Sweetie, lingering for a moment, but Sweetie smiled. “Uh, you go ahead, Silver,” she said. “I'll be right behind you.”
        Silver frowned faintly, her eyes flicking back and forth between Sweetie and Starling, but she smiled quickly. “Alright,” she said.
        Silver left the room, letting the door swing shut behind her. Starling watched the door, waiting a few seconds, which she tapped out on the desk. “So, Sweetie Belle,” she said eventually. “How are you enjoying your weekend so far?”
        “Huh?” Sweetie asked. “Um... it's been pretty good, I guess?”
        “I'm glad to hear it... I was speaking with your older sister last night, and she mentioned you weren't initially looking forward to it.”
        “Oh,” Sweetie winced. “Well, uh... I mean it's nothing against you guys, I was just looking forward to spending the long weekend with my friends, is all. But, uh, with Silver here—”
        Starling cut Sweetie off with a raised hoof. “Your sister also mentioned that you and Silver don't normally get along very well.”
        Starling's face was impassive, a stark contrast to Sweetie Belle's furiously beating heart. Her mind raced through awful option after awful option. Would Starling be mad at her for not liking Silver? Was Starling going to try and keep Sweetie there, to give her a reason not to spend time with Silver?
        Starling took a deep breath. “I know that Silver isn't always the... most polite filly,” she admitted. “We're working on that. But she is a good filly, so... I just wanted to thank you for giving her a chance.”
        Sweetie's heart skipped a beat, then did not quite seem to know how to respond. Sweetie Belle was staggered for a moment herself. “Um... um?” she squeaked.
        Kelson laughed. “You mayn't have noticed,” he said, “but the Wee Miss doesn't have too many friends outside of wee Diamond. It does a pony good to know more ponies, is all.”
        “We just wanted to thank you for giving her somepony to spend time with while we're here,” Starling said. “And for at least trying to be a friend for her. We could all hear her laughing last night. The point is, well...” Her poise failed her for a moment and she waved her hooves, floundering for the words. “Well... the point is, thank you for being a friend to her. I'm glad she's making another one, even—or maybe especially—if you're able to forgive some past unpleasantness for it.”
        “Oh,” Sweetie said. She looked down and shuffled her hooves, thinking it over. It was strange to think, but she had almost forgotten that she and Silver didn't normally get along. For that matter, was it really Silver she didn't get along with? She'd never seen the filly without Diamond Tiara by her side, and now that Sweetie thought of it Silver had always just seemed... there. “Well, uh... thanks? Um...” she laughed quietly, and rubbed her foreleg. “I mean... I guess it was sorta Silver's idea to try getting along in the first place, so it's not really... like I did anything.” She probably would have been spiritedly avoiding Silver if Silver hadn't suggested a truce in the first place.
        “Still,” Starling said with a smile, “it takes a big pony to go along with it. And I'm glad you did. But, I won't keep you two apart for too long, I just wanted to say thank you.”
        Sweetie smiled bashfully up at the mare, and made for the door. “It was, um, really no problem,” she said. She slipped out quickly, pausing just outside the door. Truth be told, she wasn't quite certain how to take what had just happened. A part of her had always expected that Silver's parents didn't pay attention to her enough to notice what she did... or just didn't care. Did they know how their daughter acted?
        Did Sweetie?
        A deep frown spread across Sweetie Belle's face. A guilty trembling roiled in her belly as she thought back over all her memories of Silver. Silver was definitely mean. There was no denying that. She had made fun of Scootaloo's inability to fly, of all their blank flanks, she had even taken the time to personally rib on Sweetie Belle's mane, of all things. No, Silver could definitely be a jerk when she wanted to. Yet, here they were.
        Sweetie Belle shook her head, chasing the thoughts away. She didn't have time to sit around thinking all day. Whatever else Silver might have been, right now she was waiting for Sweetie. For that matter, so was The Phantom.
        Sweetie Belle trotted quickly through the theater. There were quite a few more workers today, carting in plush fold-down chairs to replace the burnt upholstery in the auditorium and carting cans of paint up the still-charred columns. She weaved a path through them, barely noticed in the hustle and bustle, and quickly found herself back in front of the dressing rooms. Her mind, however, had decided to linger somewhere back by the ticketing booths. She knocked on the door.
        There was a pause, and the silence from within the room became an almost tangible awkwardness. From inside, there was a muffled call of, “Come in?”
        Sweetie Belle's attention caught up with her, and she grimaced as she opened the door.
        Silver Spoon sat in the middle of the room, saddlebags placed neatly against the vanity desk and a small game box in front of her. She was staring up at Sweetie, a single eyebrow cocked in confusion. “Why did you knock?” she asked.
        “Er...” Sweetie said. She looked back and forth. “W-well, you could have been doing anything in here!” she defended herself, raising her head into what she hoped was the picture of pride.
        Silver Spoon clearly wasn't buying it. “Like what?” she asked, but she barely waited for Sweetie to flounder before a smile spread across her face. “Oh, never mind, just come in and sit down.” She waved a hoof to Sweetie, beckoning her closer.
        Sweetie sat across from Silver and looked down at the box. “What's this?” she asked.
        “It's Boggle,” Silver said simply.
        “Ooooh,” Sweetie said. “Right! You stashed the stuff in there so your parents wouldn't see it and get suspicious? What'd you bring?”
        Silver blinked. She adjusted her glasses and lifted the top off the box, revealing its contents for all present.
        “It's Boggle,” she said.
        It was, indeed, Boggle.
        “... Boggle?” Sweetie Belle asked. “That's it?”
        “I like Boggle!” Silver Spoon said defensively. “Anyways, we didn't have much else at the house.”
        “W—I mean, I like Boggle too,” Sweetie Belle said, looking between the game set and Silver Spoon. “But what about The Phantom? We can't just sit around all day and play games!”
        “Well, we're not gonna play it all day, obviously,” Silver Spoon said. She had begun to unpack the box. “Just until my mom comes to check on us, then we can go. I just don't want her to see us gone and find out we've snuck back into the back rooms.”
        “She said she was gonna check on us in a few hours, though,” Sweetie Belle said. She hunkered down, staring hard at the Boggle set. “That's plenty of time to catch The Phantom.”
        “Maybe,” Silver Spoon said. “If she were actually coming to check on us in a few hours. In a few minutes she'll come, having 'forgotten' something she wanted to ask us. Then she'll be back in a few hours to check again. Do you really think your parents will do exactly what they say they will?”
        Sweetie leaned back and frowned. It was her turn to be defensive. “Yeah, well,” she said with a huff, “I don't give them any reason not to trust me!”
        Silver simply stared at Sweetie. Sweetie stared back, defiant for a while, but it wasn't long before she faltered. “W-well,” she squeaked, “most of the time, anyways...”
        Silver smirked and shook her head. “Well, anyways,” she said, “whether or not I deserve it—and lets be honest, I kinda do—my mom is gonna show up soon to double-check on us, so we've got some time to kill.”
        “And you wanted to spend it playing Boggle?” Sweetie asked. Silver Spoon scrunched her nose, preparing for another defense, or perhaps just a simple snark, but Sweetie Belle raised her hooves before Silver could launch into it. “Uh, which is fine!” Sweetie Belle said with a squeak. “I mean, I just didn't think that Boggle would be your kinda game...”
        Not that Sweetie would know, she supposed. She would have found it hard to imagine Silver playing games at all, if she had ever cared to try. Certainly not a word game. Silver had usually seemed content to let Diamond Tiara do most of the talking, only ever echoing the other filly's sentiments or adding an extra jab—and it was almost always a jab—on top of it.
        “But,” Sweetie said, rubbing her face in the hopes of staving off an ashamed blush, “It sounds like you must really like it? I mean, if you manage to make Boggle loud...”
        Silver hesitated for a moment, still on the edge of launching into an argument. She tottered back and forth as though on a precipice and unable to decide which way to fall, before coughing and adjusting her glasses. “Oh. Well, it's not really me who gets loud. That just kind of happens when you play with two sailors, and a mare who wants to make sure her daughter doesn't pick up on any of their vocabulary. It started with arguments over what was and wasn't acceptable for a little filly. Now...” her eyes took on a distant quality as she laughed, playing with one of the lettered dice. “Arguing over whether or not a word counts is just part of the game for us. I'll try to keep it to a minimum with you, though.”
        Sweetie felt a grin spread across her face as she watched Silver fidget. “Hey, I think I can keep up,” she said. “You know, Scootaloo once compared me to a dictionary!”
        “Yeah, well,” Silver said offhandedly, “Scootaloo isn't exactly the best—” She stopped dead. “U-uh,” she said, adjusting her glasses. “I mean, I...” She glanced at Sweetie, then at the floor, adjusting her glasses once more.
        Sweetie watched her for a minute, not sure if her smile should fade or grow. “You were gonna say that Scootaloo wouldn't know much about words herself, weren't you?” she asked finally.
        Silver Spoon winced, staring at her hooves. “Sorry,” she said. “It just slipped out... I guess... it was a force of habit. Ugh, that sounds even worse. I'm sorry.”
        For a moment Sweetie's smile did fade. Still unsure what exactly it should do, her mouth flitted between a half-frown, a smirk, and finally a small, guilty smile. “Well...” she said, covering the offending smile, “you're not wrong...” she giggled and patted her cheek. “But it's mean to say! Scootaloo is a good friend, she just isn't interested in reading much.”
        “I know,” Silver said, rubbing her leg. “I'm sorry.”
        Sweetie giggled again. “You don't have to apologize to me,” she said. “I'm not the one you insulted.” Sweetie was the one who was here, however, and the one who Silver had extended an olive branch to. The thought struck her suddenly, her mood shifting like the winds. As much as she didn't know what Silver liked, or thought, there was no way she could know why Silver had chosen to be nice to her and her alone. “Why didn't you?” she asked.
        Silver made a noise like a small animal being stepped on very hard. “Whu, uh, what?” she choked out, pushing her glass back up her face.
        “Why didn't you insult me?” Sweetie Belle asked. “Why did you offer a truce in the first place? Was it really just so you wouldn't get in trouble?”
        “I, uh...” Silver stammered. She looked around the room as though searching for an escape route, and clutched at her forelegs. Eventually her shoulders went slack, and she took on a defeated air.
“At... first, yeah,” she admitted. “It just seemed like too much trouble to fight all weekend, you know? But it isn't really about that, anymore. I think what you said last night, it really hit me. About being nice. 'For Once'.”
        Sweetie blinked. “For once?” she asked. “You mean, you wanted to start being nice?”
        Silver grunted and leaned further back. “No,” she said. “I mean, kinda? But like... do you think you're a jerk?”
        “No?” Sweetie said, jolting back as though the words had physically struck her. Two days ago she would have walked away from this conversation. Even if they had been stuck in the same building she'd have found some way out. Now, though, she watched Silver. Something about the filly was different than Sweetie remembered. Perhaps it was just familiarity, but eyes that had previously been shrewd and judging looked thoughtful, a bored pose looked more contemplative. The effect was captivating.
        “Well, I did,” Silver said. “Not me, I mean. I thought you were a jerk.”
        “What?” Sweetie balked. “What—how could you think that?”
        “Because the first time we met you told me you thought my talent was pointless,” Silver replied matter-of-factly. The sheer confidence of it struck Sweetie into a stunned silence. Silver continued.
        “And after that, everything was... Kelson told me a bedtime story once, about a fisherpony and a shark. The shark ate one of the fisherpony's hooves, so the fisherpony became a ship captain and hunted the shark down. But the shark was big and strong, so whenever the fisherpony hurt the shark, the shark hurt the fisherpony back, and ran away. The story ended when the fisherpony and the shark killed one another.” She paused for a moment and added, “His stories got a lot tamer after that. I think Mom talked to him, or something.” She shook her head and adjusted her glasses. “Anyways, the point is, I didn't get it at the time, but the shark wasn't a shark. It was another pony.
        “'Cause, see, the shark didn't know it had hurt the pony. It was just responding when it had been hurt. It wasn't trying to get like, revenge or justice or anything, it was just responding. And I guess the reason I was always such a jerk to you was, I was like the shark. I didn't... get that I'd been a jerk to you first. So every time you did something back to me—even just defending yourself—it always felt like you were being the jerk. I didn't really think... or maybe I just didn't care that I was hurting you back. I think I'd been sort of been realizing it for a while, but you saying that made me realize that I was doing the same thing.” She hunkered down. “Maybe I even started it. So I guess I thought I'd give you more of a chance, maybe?” She sighed and leaned back, shrugging. “I dunno. Maybe I just wanted to feel better about myself. It's dumb. The point is, I'm sorry for being such a jerk.”
        Sweetie started at her hooves. Silver really thought Sweetie was the jerk? Was she wrong? Sweetie hadn't given much thought to how Silver thought either, and now that she thought about it she'd probably done her share of mean things. “... Me too,” she said softly. “I had no idea you felt that way.”
        “Yeah, well,” Silver said with a shrug. Her tone was rough and dull. She looked away. “I don't think you have much to be sorry about. I kinda went out of my way. I don't think you did.”
        “That doesn't matter,” Sweetie said with a sharpness that surprised even her. Silver's eyebrows rose, and she peered sidelong at Sweetie. “It doesn't matter which one of us was worse,” Sweetie continued. “ I'm sorry for being a jerk at all.” She set her jaw stubbornly and folded her hooves. “I'm sorry I hurt your feelings.”
        Silver turned her head back to Sweetie, staring at her for a long, silent moment. A smile crept across her face, cracking into a grin. Silver began to laugh.
        “Okay, okay,” she said. “Apology accepted... if you accept mine for being lousy to you.”
        Sweetie Belle smiled as well and looked at her hooves. She giggled softly. “Okay, I accept your apology,” she said. “But I think maybe you're a lot nicer than ponies give you credit for. Especially me. I mean, I was ready for you to just make fun of me all weekend, but you're the one who wanted a truce. I wouldn't have suggested it.” She managed to look up at Silver long enough to flash her a grin, and added, “So maybe you're not as lousy as all that.”
        Silver turned to look away again, fumbling with her glasses. “U-uh, well,” she stammered. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish, if that fish were an awkward girl-fish looking for the right words to say. Her search was interrupted, however, by a sharp knock on the door.
        Starling peeked through the door, smiling innocently and fixing her eyes on Silver. “Ah, Silver dear!” she said. “I'm glad I found you here.”
        Silver, not one to miss an opportunity, quickly fixed her glasses and sat up straighter. “Hey, Mom,” she said, just a touch too quickly. “What's up?”
        “Oh, your father and I were just talking before we came in today,” Starling said, waving a hoof. “We thought we might order in some pizza tonight to celebrate the theater being finished. I just realized, I had forgotten to ask you what toppings you'd like on your pizza?”
        “Oh,” Silver said. “Um, just mushrooms for me, I guess.”
        “Alright,” Starling said with a smile. Turning to Sweetie she asked, “And you, dear?”
        It took Sweetie Belle a moment to realize that Starling was talking to her. “Huh?” she asked when she did. “Me?”
        “Of course, Sweetie,” Starling said. “You're still our guest tonight. It would hardly be polite of us to not include you and your sister for dinner. Now, what would you like on your pizza?”
        “Oh, wow,” Sweetie said. “Um... would just extra cheese be okay?”
        Starling chuckled. “I think we can manage that, yes. Thank you, dear, I'll put you down for that.” She looked back and forth between the two fillies for a moment. A slow, warm smile crept across her face, and she nodded. “Well,” she said, “I can see you two girls are busy with your game, so I'll let you get back to it. Just try not to let it get too rowdy.”
        Silver ducked her head and flushed just enough to be noticeable. “Yes, Mom,” she said. Starling chuckled and quietly closed the door behind her. Silver waited for a few moments after she left, just long enough that Sweetie realized she was counting out seconds, before turning back to Sweetie. “Told you,” she said.
        Sweetie giggled. “I guess so,” she replied. “But I think she must have been telling the truth, kinda. I mean, buying pizza for everypony is a big length to go to just to check in on us...”
        Silver tilted her head, staring at Sweetie with an expression that was one part expectant, and one part bemused. Sweetie stared back. It took her several seconds longer than she would admit to realize they were sitting in a building that Silver's parents had bought and refurbished.
        “...Oh,” Sweetie Belle said. She tried to giggle, but only managed an embarrassed squeak. “Uh... well, it's still really generous of her.”
        Silver rolled her eyes, but she smiled. “I guess so.” Her smile faded as she looked down at the Boggle set. She sighed, and got to her hooves. “We should probably head to the back rooms, now...” she said. Her voice had lost a luster Sweetie only now that it was gone, replaced by a familiar dull dryness.
        The halls were almost barren, most of the workers being focused on finishing the main theater. With only one more day until the fashion show Sweetie Belle, Silver Spoon and The Phantom were far from the only ponies feeling the pressure. Sweetie and Silver encountered only a single soul on their way to the back rooms, and he had no time to spare for two little fillies. He was so obviously engrossed in his work that Silver opened the door to the back rooms with him still in plain view.
        Sweetie slipped quickly inside, taking care this time to stop well short of the pile of boxes. She heard the click of the door closing behind her, and Silver chuckling.
        “They're not going to bite you,” Silver said with a smirk.
        Sweetie laughed weakly and wiggled her nose. “Well, they... sort of did last time.”
        Silver paused for a moment, then smirked wider. “I think you bit them as much as they bit you,” she said. She chuckled again, as much to herself as anypony else, as she produced a small watch from her saddlebags. 
“Alright,” Silver said. He smirk faded noticeably, replaced by a faint, worried downturn at the corners of her mouth. “We have about two hours until lunchtime. That'll probably be when my mom checks on us again. We should get back before then, which gives us about... an hour and 45 minutes to take down The Phantom.” She peered into the gloom of the back rooms. It was difficult to tell in the poor light, but Sweetie Belle thought Silver's face had taken on a pallor. “Y-you know,” Silver said as she tucked the watch away, “It's still not too late to tell somepony about all this, try and get a grown-up to handle it...”
        Sweetie watched her for a while. It was almost funny how she could act so well some times, and have so little poker face others. “Are you scared?” Sweetie Belle asked.
        “No, I...” Silver said. She rubbed her grip on her foreleg and stammered wordlessly, looking around the room. “I mean... yeah. I'm scared. It's... well, it's The Phantom. Maybe it isn't The Phantom of the Opera, but it's still a Phantom, and it's real. I'm scared. Aren't... you? I mean, you don't seriously want to go back there and run up against some... ghost, or freak in a mask, do you? Can't we find some other way?”
        Sweetie shook her head. “No,” she said. It would be a terrible lie to say that she wanted to face down The Phantom. Even now, this far from him, her heart thumped in her chest. They had to, though. Nopony else could. She breathed deep and repeated the words, as much to herself as to Silver. “We need to face The Phantom. Nopony else can do it.” Sweetie Belle wrapped a hoof around Silver's. Sweetie's heart was already pounding in her chest, making her face hot and her stomach do tricks, but Silver was obviously fighting even harder. She wanted to be sick, but Sweetie managed to speak with confidence. “But that's okay. We can do this. I believe in us. I believe in you. If it weren't for you, I don't think I could do this.” She smiled wide at Silver. “I always thought you were just... Diamond's goon. I thought you just did whatever she wanted, said whatever she said... that you weren't even brave enough to make fun of us on your own, and you were just hiding behind her so you wouldn't be in front of her. But I don't think that's true, not anymore. I think... you don't always show it, but I think you care a lot. I think that even when you're scared, you still know what the right thing to do is. Even if you don't always do it right, I think you're a lot braver, and smarter than you let ponies see. And... I know that's hard. But the more scared you are, that just means the more brave you are. And seeing you be so much braver than I thought, makes me feel braver too.”
        Sweetie Belle beamed. Once the words had started she had been unable to stop, as though the words were coming out of their own accord. Ever word of it was true, though, and each one brought a little bit of warmth to her heart. She stood up straighter, almost as tall as Silver's slouching form, and gripped Silver's hoof tighter. Sweetie hoped the filly had taken her words to heart. “I'm glad you wanted a truce, Silver,” she said. “I'm glad I know you for real, now.”
        Silver stared at her hoof, her face awash with sickness and fear. “I sure don't feel brave,” she mumbled to herself. “But... thank you. Okay. I guess... I can do this.” She breathed deep and gave a weak smile. “Let's go beat that psycho.”
        In spite of the pep-talk, their progress was slow. Clouds from last night's storm had lingered, hiding the sun and making the already weak light of the prop rooms darker still. The light of Silver's flashlight marked their path, but everything outside of the narrow beam was twisted by the dark and Sweetie's anxiety. Piles of boxes became looming ogres, coats appeared as figures creeping just around the corner. The smallest discarded prop or costume became a trap waiting to ensnare their hooves, forcing the two fillies to walk slowly. At the very least, Sweetie Belle reasoned with herself, their slow pace gave her the time to focus on the encounter ahead. It was certainly preferable to the alternative of focusing on the horrors of the prop rooms.
        Not for the first time that weekend, Sweetie Belle wished that Scootaloo and Apple Bloom were there with her. They might not have made things easier—in fact she was almost certain Scootaloo would have made things harder—but at least she wouldn't have had to worry about courage if she was just following Scootaloo as she rushed in.
        Should they attack The Phantom head-on, as Scootaloo would have? Sweetie Belle rejected the idea out of hand. Running in shouting, attacking directly, would only give The Phantom time to prepare. They had a weapon now, but they needed to get close to use it and The Phantom could fly. That made surprise their best option. As long as sneaking up on a Phantom was even possible.
        The thought crept into her gut, twisting it into a knot. Who was to say that The Phantom wasn't watching them, even now? In this gloom there would be no way to spot the black-clad figure if it didn't want to be seen. If it truly was a ghost, it might not even need to leave its nest to watch them. Sweetie Belle could feel the floorboards pulsing with a gentle rhythm. It was the beating of that great brass heart, the snarl of pipes and valves in the furthest back of the theater. Sweetie Belle peered over at Silver. The filly was almost constantly adjusting her glasses, ears pinned back tight against her head. And unhealthy pallor had come over her face some time during their journey. Sweetie Belle decided not to trouble her with the notion.
        It made no difference. They had arrived.
        The door to the back room stood open before them like some great, gaping maw. The darkness beyond was thick and black as pitch. It threatened to swallow them whole, and the crossing of the threshold sent a chill down Sweetie's spine. Was the room beyond truly that much colder, or was it just her? Or perhaps the oppressive atmosphere, the stifling shadow, was a side-effect of The Phantom's residence?
        Silver slowed to a stop, followed shortly after by Sweetie. After a moment Sweetie shuffled closer to Silver, acutely aware that The Phantom could be anywhere in the darkness. “Why are we stopping?” Sweetie asked.
        “Well,” Silver said, bobbing her head back and forth, “I wanted to try putting the net up over the door. So that The Phantom can’t run away through it.” She reached into her saddlebag and produced their makeshift net, unfolding it across the dusty floorboards.
        In spite of her twisting gut, Sweetie couldn't help but grin at their creation. It was slapshod at best, with some holes too large and others barely there. The twine had been stretched to its limit and had already begun to fray in some places—something that the sharp metal of the bolts they had woven in, so haphazardly as to be at random, certainly didn't help. It was in many ways an affront to the noble art of ghost-net-weaving. Still, she had made it together with Silver. Sweetie remembered something that Rarity had told her once: a pony could weave what they were feeling into something they made, and that made it a little bit magic. As far as Sweetie was concerned, this was their magic net, and it was what would save the theater.
        Together they tossed the net up over the doorframe, catching the nuts on the corners to hold it in place, and turned to face the darkness. It stared them down, but with their net at her back—and the more she thought of it, Silver at her side—Sweetie Belle felt like she could stare right back. “We should... turn out the flashlight,” she said. “So The Phantom doesn't see us coming.”
        “Are you sure?” Silver asked, looking between her and the flashlight. She tutted, and frowned. “Yeah... I guess you're probably right.” Silver sighed and switched off the flashlight.
        The darkness closed in around them, and for a brief moment Sweetie felt her heart clutch, afraid that it would swallow them whole. It did not surround them entirely, though. In the distance, glinting off the snaking pipes and biting through the murk was the soft, warm glow of candlelight. With all other sight gone, all other sense dulled, Sweetie could hear the soft, deep echoing of the pipes. To her surprise it was accompanied by another, higher pinging sound, just out of time.
        The nest of pipes grew clearer as they approached, as did the pinging sound. Sweetie Belle realized that it was the sound of something striking the pipes. Something small and hard and regular, as though it was bouncing off and back again. The candlelight flickered faintly, interrupted in time with the pinging.
        They were no more than a half-dozen meters from the nest when it finally struck Sweetie: The Phantom was home. Her breath caught in her throat, saving her from crying out in shock. They were a stone's throw away from the being they had come here to confront, and the idea—all its risks and dangers, everything that could possibly follow—became much, much more real.
        She swallowed hard and forced herself to calm down as much as she could. If her heart beat much harder she was certain The Phantom would hear them. She listened carefully. The beat was irregular, like somepony tapping their hooves. The shadows gave the idea credence, casting the figure of a pony beating his hoof against the pipes. It was almost as though The Phantom was... bored? Sweetie Belle's face screwed up. What kind of Phantom—one who had proclaimed his intent to destroy a fashion show in a day and a half's time, at that—would be sitting around bored? She turned back to look at Silver.
        The fear had washed away from Silver's face, replaced by a strange, furrowed set of the eyebrows that Sweetie Belle could not decipher. With a sharp deliberateness Silver produced the container of salt and, still staring dead at the nest of pipes, held it out for Sweetie Belle. Sweetie took it without a word.
        She crept closer to the nest, holding the salt in her hooves so her magic didn't alert The Phantom, and peeked through a gap. Sure enough, The Phantom was everything he had seemed to be: the very picture of boredom. He sat with his cloak pulled up and bundled behind his head, tapping his back hoof arrhythmically against the pipes. Beneath his mask he wore an expression that almost resembled a pout.
        The sheer absurdity of it all struck Sweetie Belle as almost comical, but laughing was the furthest thing from her mind. She unscrewed the cap of the salt as quietly as she could, and reared up behind The Phantom.
        “Go away!” Sweetie Belle screamed. She shook the salt violently. It hit The Phantom in a wave, washing over the cloaked figure and piling into hills and gullies in and instant. The Phantom screamed and spluttered, jerking violently to life. Sweetie Belle laughed and continued to shake as The Phantom flailed, tangled in his cloak and swearing violently. It was working!
        The Phantom rolled out of the nest, falling to the floor with a loud thud, and scrabbled to his hooves. “What the hell!?” He demanded. “What are you—are you throwing salt?”
        Sweetie Belle's shaking slowed to a halt. “Er... yes?” she replied. She wondered why The Phantom was still... there. If Kelson had been right, shouldn't he be gone by now?
        “Who throws salt?” The Phantom shouted, sneering at Sweetie Belle from across the pipes. “What, are you gonna make me so thirsty I curl up and die? Hoping I'll shrivel up like a slug?”
        “Wh... w-well,” Sweetie stammered, staring at the tin of salt in her hooves. “I... I thought... you were a ghost, so, I, uh...” Of all the situations she had imagined, The Phantom chastising her was not among them. He must be planning to attack, to take flight, to do anything. So why wasn't he? Purely to berate Sweetie?
        Out of the corner of her eye, Sweetie could see Silver. She wore an expression of pure panic. Her glasses sat forgotten, perched on the tip of her nose. She was digging madly through the saddlebags.
        “W-well,” Sweetie Belle said, turning back to The Phantom, “Wh-who threatens to burn down a theater!? Over a fashion show?” She started to shimmy around the nest, forcing The Phantom to turn away from Silver.
        “Fash—” The Phantom, sneering at Sweetie through the mask. “Fashion show? What are you—” The Phantom's question ended in the crash and clatter as a hoofful of bolts cascaded around his head. Both Phantom and Sweetie turned to face Silver, who was readying another hoofful. She finally pushed her glasses up, framing the glint of profound, horrified fury in her eyes.
        “G-get out of here!” she yelled, tossing another volley. “This isn't—I won't let you burn down my parents’ theater! I won't... let you keep lurking back here!” As she spoke her voice grew stronger and stronger. She gathered another hoofful. “So get out of here! Leave me—us, alone!”
        Before Silver could throw the bolts again, The Phantom shook violently. For a moment he became tiny, a snarled mass of black fabric, and then exploded. His cloak billowed in a storm of darkness, and The Phantom took flight.
        “FOOLS!” The Phantom bellowed, alighting on a high pipe. “YOU DARE? TO COME INTO MY HOME, TO ASSAULT ME WITH YOUR PETTY JOKES, AND THEN TO INSULT ME? YOU DARE TO IMPLY I AM NOT WITHIN MY RIGHT? THIS PLACE IS MINE! MY THEATER, MY LEGACY, MINE TO DO WITH AS I WISH!” He swept a long, shrouded hoof over the room, barely visible in the darkness, and jeered at them. “NO PETTY 'FASHIONISTAS' OR FOOLISH RICH PONIES CAN TAKE IT FROM ME! THEY DO NOT HAVE MY PERMISSION! BEGONE FROM THIS PLACE, AND TAKE YOUR SMALL IDEAS WITH YOU!” He leaped from the pipe, flying low over the floor directly at Silver. She only barely dove out of the way, smashing her shoulder and crying out in pain.
        “Silver!” Sweetie cried out. She lunged through the nest, scrambling awkwardly over the ancient cushions to reach the other filly. “Are you alright?”
        “NEITHER OF YOU WILL LEAVE HERE IN ONE PIECE!” The Phantom roared. He sailed into the air once more, diving at Sweetie Belle. She was faster than Silver though, more prepared, and she dashed under a nearby pipe. The Phantom pulled up and veered away while Sweetie Belle called out to Silver again.
        “Silver? Are you okay?” she asked.
        Silver gasped and shuddered. “I'm fine!” she said, but her voice was trembling. Her eyes darted around the room. “Where's The Phantom?”
        Sweetie turned her eyes to the sky. There was nothing but darkness as far as she could see until a quick, barely-there flash of white streaked across her view. “There!” she shouted. “Look out!” she grabbed Silver by the shoulders and yanked her down just in time. The Phantom sailed through the air where Silver had been, laughing maniacally.
        Silver yelped, crawling under the pipe. Her breath was ragged and she could barely speak, but she managed a curse. “W-we have... have to get out of here,” she stammered. She was shaking violently. “The salt didn't work. The iron didn't work. We can't fight him!”.
        Sweetie looked out from under the pipe again. She couldn't see any sign of the Phantom, but he could be anywhere. Silver was right, they needed to get away. “Alright,” she said, her voice hushed. “Alright. You can see the door, right?”
        “Y-yeah,” Silver stammered, adjusting her glasses.
        “Okay,” Sweetie Belle said. She reached out, taking Silver's hooves in her own. “We're gonna run, okay? We gonna get out from under here, and run as fast as we can for the door. And I'm gonna use my magic to lift up the net, and we'll just run right under, okay?”
        Silver swallowed hard and nodded. “Right,” she said. “Okay. Okay.”
        Sweetie peeked her head out first. She could hear the distant laughter of The Phantom echoing across the pipes, but he was nowhere to be seen. “Alright,” Sweetie said. “Run!”
        Silver Spoon slid out from the under the pipes, struggling to get to her hooves with a bad shoulder. She had only managed to make it to upright when the sound of The Phantom's laughter changed, becoming more clear. He had rounded for another pass.
        His mask appeared out of the darkness, a sadistic grin stretching across his face like a scar, and he snatched Silver off of her knees. He dragged her into the center of the room and dropped her, rising into the air for another swoop.
        Silver scrambled to her hooves as The Phantom rounded on her once more. Again and again she tried to run, but the Phantom cut her off each time, constantly keeping her off-balance. Silver grit her teeth and shouted, “I-I'm not... I'm not afraid of you!” The Phantom simply laughed.
        Sweetie Belle's heart turned was ice. There had to be something she could do, some way to distract The Phantom long enough for Silver to get away. If they could just make it to the door they would be safe. Even if The Phantom wasn't really a ghost, if iron or salt couldn't stop him, then at least the net would slow him down.
        All thought left Sweetie save for one: the net!
        Sweetie cursed her denseness for as she leaped out from under the pipe. She forced herself to look away from Silver, to ignore the filly's plight, and bolt for the door at a dead run. Behind her, she could hear The Phantom calling out.
        “RUNNING?” The Phantom jeered. “RUNNING WHERE? THIS IS MY THEATER, FILLY! I WON'T LET YOU LEAVE!” His laugh was an evil, ugly cackle that chilled Sweetie to the bone, but she ignored it. She could hear him coming for her, sailing after her through the blackness. She could hear the panicked clopping of Silver taking the opportunity to bolt. Sweetie chanced a glanced over her shoulder and saw the Phantom rise and swoop violently, knocking Silver to the floor in his flight and sending the filly skidding across the dusty floor. Through ragged breaths Sweetie Belle growled. She was almost at the door now. A green glow enveloped the net.
        “Hey!” she shouted as she screeched to a halt. She barely had time to stop before she launched into a dead bolt again, this time straight for the Phantom. She pumped her legs as hard as she could, running faster than she had ever run before. The Phantom paused his flight, confusion flashing across his face.
        “What?” He said. He hung in the air, staring dumbly at the charging filly.
        “Don't hurt her!” Sweetie screamed, leaping over Silver. She hurled the net as hard as she could, striking the Phantom full In the face and chest. The weight of it dragged him to the ground, and he cried out in shock.
        “Wh-what!?” The Phantom yelled, scrabbling at the net. “Don't—get away! GET BACK! FOOL!” He dragged himself into the darkness, screaming obscenities and threats, but Sweetie didn't care. She dragged Silver to her hooves.
        “Run!” she shouted.
        Silver was more than happy to oblige. The pair ran as fast as their legs would carry them out of the back and through the prop rooms. They barely had the presence of mind to slow down before they exited into the halls. It was not until they were back in the dressing room that Sweetie Belle finally allowed herself a moment to breathe. It was a panting, wheezing breath, but a breath just the same. Her heart was pounding in her ears, and she felt like she would be sick from all the running, but she was safe. They were safe. She turned to Silver and threw her hooves around the filly.
        “Whoah!” Silver jolted violently. “Jeez, warn a filly before you do that,” she said. She was tense, but Sweetie could feel that tenseness melting away. After a moment Silver breathed a long sigh and returned Sweetie's hug. “Are you okay?” she asked.
        “I think so, yeah,” Sweetie said, letting out a sigh of her own. “Still a little scared, but I'm okay. What about you? Is your shoulder okay?”
        Silver laughed weakly. She left the hug, hesitating for just a moment, and rubbed her shoulder. “Yeah, I'm fine. I'm sore, but nothing's broken. I don't think I'll even bruise... thanks. You really saved my butt back there.”
        Sweetie Belle wheezed a laugh and ducked her head. “Aw, not really,” she said, although she couldn't help but grin.
        “Yeah, really!” Silver insisted. “That j... jerk of a Phantom wouldn't have let me go anywhere... I'd probably still be stuck back there with him if it weren't for you. You were pretty awesome with that net.” She looked down, and squeezed her shoulder tighter.
        For a long time she was still, her mouth open as though she was constantly about to speak. Silence reigned in the dressing room. Sweetie's adrenaline subsided and her heart slowed, but the heavy pumping had only been replaced by a lingering anxiety as she watched Silver struggle with the words. She was beginning to feel frightened for Silver, worried that the horror had not yet left her, when a small groan gave signal that Silver had finally found her words.
        “I always knew,” Silver said, adjusting her glasses, “that you were a lot... different, than you seemed. I mean... I knew that you were smart, a lot smarter than everypony else thought. I never thought of you as being brave, though. Definitely not brave enough to help me like that.”
        The tightness in Sweetie's heart vanished in an instant, but she faltered. She ran the sentence over in her head once again. Then a third time. “Th... thanks? I think?” she said, still uncertain whether or not it was supposed to be a compliment. Ultimately she decided that it made her happier than the majority of things that Silver had ever said to her, so that was close enough.
        “Urgh,” Silver said, pushing her glasses back up her muzzle. “I know that sounds really lousy. I'm not, uh, very good at being nice, I guess...”
        Sweetie could feel what remained of her fear evaporating as he looked on Silver's expression, a strange mix of guilt and exasperation. She couldn't help but giggle; it was strangely comic. “It's okay,” Sweetie said. “I think I understand what you mean. I guess I'm not really surprised, either.” If anything, she was as surprised as Silver by her new found courage. It had been a long time since she had done anything even remotely frightening, and she had acted more on instinct than actual conscious thought. She had simply seen Silver in trouble. “Actually, I'm kinda surprised that you thought I was smart, before.”
        Exasperation took the lead in the battle for Silver's expression. “Great, that makes it sounds better,” she grumbled. She sighed. “I was really lousy to you, huh?”
        “You were,” Sweetie agreed, but held up a hoof as Silver's expression turned yet more sour. “But it's not like I was a lot better... I didn't think a lot of nice thoughts about you before. If you were the shark, then I was the fisherpony. Offering a truce was the last thing I expected you to do, though. So I guess we both learned something about each other, right?” She smiled warmly.
        Silver blinked, but smiled back. It was a slow smile, eventually building into a wide grin. “I guess so,” she said. “I'm glad... that we did. I'm glad I got to know you a little better.”
        Sweetie grinned back. “Me too,” she said. “I'm just sad we didn't do it sooner. Just think, all this time we could have been getting along.” She thought about what Kelson had told her. Maybe if Silver had had more friends a lot of things would have been different. She opened her hooves. “Friends?”
        For just a moment, far too quick for Sweetie to see, Silver's look of exasperation washed away and left behind only guilt and a profound, wounded sadness. She recovered quickly, though, and nearly threw herself into Sweetie Belle's hug. “Friends,” she repeated. They held one another for a long time. Silver's warmth washed through Sweetie Belle, chasing away the lingering shadows. Sweetie sighed happily. She felt safe with Silver. She felt good.
        A quick, sharp knock sounded on the door, and Starling peered through. “It's time for lunch, fill—oh!” she paused, looking back and forth between Silver and Sweetie. “I'm sorry, am I interrupting something?”
        Silver coughed awkwardly as Sweetie let her go, adjusting her glasses. “Uh, no, Mom,” she said. “We were just talking, and uh...”
        “Being friendly,” Sweetie Belle offered. She couldn't help but notice a flush to Silver's cheeks that made her smile. For that matter, her own face felt warm.
        “Right!” Silver said, pointing to Sweetie and flashing an awkward grin. “Being friendly.”
        “Is that so?” Starling asked, nodding slowly. She sounded unconvinced, and Sweetie Belle could feel her appraising eyes, but Starling only smiled wider. “Well,” she said, “I only wanted to let you two fillies know that lunch is ready. You can come get it whenever you like.” Somehow, her smile managed to grow wider still. “But don't rush yourselves.”
        She left the fillies alone, laughing to herself and saying something about a second one of something. Silver smiled bashfully, rubbing at her cheeks. Sweetie was close to losing herself in a fit of giggles. The fear of The Phantom was gone, for now. In the furthest back parts of her mind Sweetie knew that they would have to confront what they learned today, to use it and plan for their next encounter with The Phantom. Time was running out and it was abundantly clear—net aside—that their methods so far were insufficient. For now, though, there was food, and there was family, and there were friends.