There is no Pinkie Pie. Twilight Sparkle is a fool. Princess Celestia's a legend. Equestria is ruled by a group called the Triumvirate. The question: How do you fix a wrong you don't know happened?
When Sweetie Belle got the chance to sing at The Haberdashery, the legendary nightclub, she jumped at the chance. It would be a chance to help support her ailing sister, a chance to be what she always wanted, one of Equestria's great singers. It was the first step on what she hoped would be a glorious path to stardom.
That path took a wrong turn, and now she's over her head in a situation nopony expected. She could take the advice of LeBlanc, the pony without a past, and just let things go, but something is telling her that there's more to this situation than meets the eye. Now she'll be forced to choose where to give her support. To the powerful, but cruel ruler of Equestria, Maestro, and his intimidating bodyguard Scootaloo, or to the charismatic but fanatical revolutionary, Redblood, and his beautiful assistant, Applebloom. She's being forced to answer questions she was never prepared for.
Where do her loyalties lie? How much is freedom worth? Perhaps, though, the most important is... Why does everypony seem so familiar?
“Listen to me.” The mare’s voice sounded like razorblades. There was a clang, the bars of a jail cell shaking. “No. Listen. LISTEN. Heheheh...” She began laughing, “You know who I am. You know who I AM, Trowell! I’m not going to stay in here. You think that bars will hold me?" Her breath was deep, like that of a predator. “Hasn’t worked yet. I’m going to be back. I ALWAYS COME BACK!”
The sound of footsteps on the ground, walking away.
“SAY HI TO THE FAMILY FOR ME!” She chuckled darkly, “I’m sure there are leftovers, at least...”
As she finished speaking, the white pegasus sank down, against the wall of the recording studio. The effects stallion finished lightly patting shoes on the table, and stepped up to the mic.”
“Pinkamina’s finally back in prison, folks. But what schemes does she have for our hero? Being in prison isn’t likely to stop her from tormenting the good detective. Tune in next week, for the Pinkamina Pie Colgate Horror Hour. But first, a few messages from our sponsor, Colgate Dentistry.”
Her co-star sat down next to her, one big purple foreleg wrapping around her. She rested her head on her friend’s shoulder.
“Hey. It’s going to be okay. We all need rest sometimes.”
She looked up at her pitifully. Her blue eyes meeting the dark purple ones, that warm, friendly smile.
“You gonna carry on alright?” She asked, and got a throaty laugh.
“I dunno, Soup. I really don’t.” A second leg grabbed her, and pressed her closer to her barrel-chest. The warmth of that slightly-less-than-groomed body pressed up to her, as the announcer continued, far enough away that they could be assured their voices wouldn’t carry. “It’s not gonna be the same without you, but hey. It’s only a couple weeks, right?”
Surprise sighed heavily. Yeah. Just a couple weeks. That would be all. She looked up at that goofy grin. “Yeah. Just a couple weeks.” Just two weeks away, but it was two weeks away from one hell of a job. Two weeks away from the job that had made her. But she needed it. She needed the time off.
“Great.” The pat on the back felt like a punch, but that was just her friend’s way. Nothing she did was subtle. Her friend was just... Big. In every possible way. She drank a lot, she ate a lot, she smiled like it was going out of style. She went to big parties, every night, with everyone else. Surprise didn’t like that. She was all for being sociable, but not so many people. She just wanted to do what she did. She liked to be lauded for it. She liked the attention, but her parties were more high society than nightclub. Still, she loved the big, goofy mare.
“I’ve got somewhere to be. I’ll miss you." That was why she needed the time off of work. For her friend. For the little family they’d built in the recording studio. They argued sometimes, but it was all they had. She waited until the announcement was over, and the music started playing, before she left, giving one last look over her shoulder.
The street outside was cold as she walked from the studio. The rain pouring down. It seemed like it was always raining in Manehattan. Even a clear sky was overcast. It didn’t make sense. She remembered bright, sunny skies as a child. Now the rain was so heavy that she barely felt it when a motorcar splashed on her overcoat.
You’re not coming back.
Shut up.
You know you’re not.
I just need a couple weeks. That’s all. To get rid of...
Me?
“YES!”
A stallion on the sidewalk jumped a bit, and she gave him a wan smile, “Was just... Talking to myself”
Liar
“Shut up.”
They’re staring at you.
She didn’t respond, but she could feel the stares. She hurried her pace. Just get to the cabaret. Just get to Maestro. He’d know what to do. He was always so helpful.
Remark the mare
Don’t sing. I was never satisfied with how you sing.
Who hesitates towards you In the light of the door that opens on her Like a grin
She pushed her way into the club. The walls were checkered orange, the carpet red. It was warm in here. Like walking from the bottom of the ocean into hell. Would that technically be down?
She handed her coat to the stallion.
You see the border of her coat is torn And stained with sand
“It was just a car!”
“Pardon?”
“The... Stain. Got a bit splashed on me.”
You see the corner of her eye twist, like a crooked pin.
“Are you okay, Ms. Surprise?”
She sighed. “Perfectly fine. I’m perfectly fine. Never been better.”
“Is it true you’re taking time off?”
She nodded, as she went into the main room. She could feel his eyes on her as she left. She was sure she’d messed up something. He couldn’t have been surprised to meet a famous pony. Not at the Haberdashery, right? The ruler of all Equestria was in there.
No, he might have been staring anyway. The rich and famous were in there, of course, but there’s always more rich than famous. And she was plenty famous. She’d sung here once, before she started acting. Her lovely voice and full, blonde mane had earned her the nickname the Golden Mare. The stage curtain was still down, as she looked for the table at the back, where Maestro was, on the semicircle bench he always took, beside his orange bodyguard.
She haunted many a low resort Near the grimy road of Trottenham Court
Will you please shut up?
She acted in many a praised bouffe From The Rising Sun, to The Friend at Hoof And the postman sighed as he scratched his head “Who’d really have thought she’d now be dead?"
Did you just THREATEN me?
And who would ever suppose that there Was Surprise Party, the Golden Mare?
She hustled to the table, and saw the look of concern on their patron’s face. He didn’t ask what was causing it. She told him enough times. She buried her head in his chest, and he grabbed her to him. She clutched his red velvet coat,
“I think she’s going to kill me.”
Surprise Party the Golden Mare Surprise Party the Golden Mare
“It’s okay, Surprise. I’ve got you. She can’t hurt you as long as you’re with me.”
Who would have ever supposed that there Was Surprise Party the Golden Mare
“Was she singing?” He asked. She silently nodded, holding onto him like a child.
I used the past tense, ‘cause you’re dead, see.
I got that.
So, it was you. But it’s not.
Yes, I know.
‘Cause you’re dead.
“JUST SHUT UP!” She cried out, exasperated.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA... Oh, they’re all looking at you now.
Maestro raised his hand to the audience they‘d acquired, “Just a bit of an argument. It’s all fine, now.” He looked around, “Besides. We’re not the show.” He gave one of his broad smiles. She liked those smiles. They were comforting. When she’d first met, she hadn’t liked them, but now... Everything was so right. So comforting. He was so warm. Hot, even.
“Listen, Surprise. I want you to listen to me.” He told her, pushing her away from him, just a bit. She straightened her back. She had to look as normal as she could, at least. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. Look.” He motioned to the club, “We’re in a full room. You’re sitting next to the most powerful stallion in Equestria. And look at her.” He gave Scootaloo a firm pat on the shoulder. The powerfully built pegasus gave as much of a smile as she could.
“Really, look at her. I’ve seen workhorses not as big as her. Pinkamina can’t hurt you here.”
Just you watch me.
“She’s always cleverer than that anyway. So, just relax. You’re amongst friends. You’re safe. And there’s a new headliner here tonight. I’m taking Scootaloo to see her. I hear she’s as good as you are. The Haberdashery might have a new Golden Mare”
“As good as I am?”
“Almost.” He laughed, “Half as good. We’ll go with half. She can be the Iron Pyrite mare.”
Surprise gave a bit of a laugh at that, and Maestro laughed with her.
“See? I told you I could get you to smile.”
Yeah. Smile. Keep smiling. Smile smile smile, ‘cause soon I won’t let you stop.
She didn’t respond. Friends were here. She was safe here. She was safe with Maestro. He would protect her. He would protect everyone.
All I really need’s a smile smile smile Expose your insides to sunshine, sunshine All I really need’s a smile smile smile From these happy friends of miiiiine
She sunk into the chair, resting her head on his shoulder. The words began to fade out as she did. Pinkamina wasn’t real. Pinkamina had never been real. She was a story. A good one, too. She’d worked for months to get the voice down. The right mix of high pitch, gravelly, and the up and down modulation of a birthday clown, so it would all come in perfectly. She had a lot to be proud of with Pinkamina, but Pinkamina was just a character. Just a voice and a script. Just some ideas in the minds of the writers. Words on a page. Ideas in a head. Voices on the radio. But, no matter what the voice tried to convince her, she wasn’t real.
There was no such pony as Pinkamina Diane Pie, and there never had been.
Sweetie poked her head out of the curtain, took a deep breath, and sighed. A few minutes left before it was time to go on stage. She had to be ready.
She looked to club’s owner, a short earth pony, who looked far older than his thirty-five years. “She’s here?”
“Who is?” He asked, sounding exasperated.
“She is. You know. The golden mare!”
The owner’s ears perked up at that, and the pair of them both looked out together, now. It looked like being inside a pony’s chest, with white arches holding up the massive red ceiling. Inside was reds, golds, and browns, with only a small amount of white for accent. She heard the owner let out a wistful sigh, then pull his head back.
“So she is.” His shoulders dropped for a second, but then he stood up straight again, “Hey, don’t worry about her.” He gave the filly a pat on the shoulder, “You’ll be as big as she was, I swear.”
“You think so, Red?”
“Yeah, kid, sure.” He shrugged, “Stranger things have happened. Three minutes.”
He went out, going to mingle with the guests. Sweetie smiled. She really could be like the Golden Mare, back in the heyday of the Haberdashery. And honestly, she was just thrilled to perform here on the same stage that Surprise had vocally hypnotized rooms full of ponies. The crowd was smaller, sure. Even her sister had stopped coming to the Haberdashery in the years since Surprise had left it. But it was still a grand old place. It would always be the place that stars had been made. And maybe, Sweetie hoped, there’d be one more made tonight.
She looked out again. Surprise was in the back, next to Maestro and his bodyguard, a muscular orange pegasus who looked about Sweetie’s age. She was big enough that Sweetie thought it was a stallion at first. Only at first. The more she looked at the purple-maned mare, the more interested she was in her. There was a touch of softness inside her hard body. Sweetie was sure of it, though she didn’t know why.
Maestro himself had a red jacket, looking at home in this place as its owner. Maybe even more so. She shivered a bit. Her first real public performance, and it would be for one of the three rulers of Equestria, AND one of its most famous stars, the pegasus who played Pinkamina. The pegasus who’d been able to not just sing, but to lead the song.
Music abounded in Equestria. It was one of those weird little things. A song was always about to break out. Perfectly choreographed, with random passers by knowing the background parts. But that didn’t diminish the role of singers. It actually gave them a bit more prestige. Anyone could sing when the time came. Few could just pick up and sing whenever they wanted, or at least do it well.
But even amongst those singers, there were a rare few who could do even more. An almost mythical talent. To sing, of your own volition, and to get the room to sing with you. To lead the whole room in a song of your choosing. Surprise had done it, and people had come to the Haberdashery from miles around. And since then, since she’d first joined in the chorus at one of Surprise’s performances when she was a child, she’d dreamed of being a singer herself. She remembered, years ago, Surprise performing at one a cousin’s wedding. Things had been happier then. Rarity had been healthy, and Surprise had sung so beautifully the whole room joined in. She remembered Surprise had picked her out of the crowd, and they’d sung a duet together, with everyone else singing behind them. It had been rapturous. It wasn’t the vague compulsion of most songs she’d experienced. She had looked Surprise in the eyes, and it was like she’d been brought into a warm, comforting embrace as they sang.
That was when she got her cutie mark. That was when she knew what she wanted. She wanted to do THAT. To make everyone feel the same way that Surprise had made her feel.
“Ten seconds!” She heard. She waited for the countdown.
Ten. Nine.
She hoped it would happen. That she’d be able to make them sing with her. She’d be happy just to sing, to be here, but to have it happen.
Eight. Seven.
Of course, most singers practiced their whole lifetimes without it happening.
Six. Five. Four.
But she didn’t care. She was going to stand out. Surprise had done it. And now, she’d do it too.
Three. Two. One.
The music started, the curtains raised. She stepped out.
“If I had a neon sign on my heart Round and round it would go Saying “I love ya I love ya, I love ya, All night long”
Sweetie looked around. She had all the attention of the whole room, and it felt wonderful. But it wasn’t enough. They were supposed to join in, now. At least they would in her head, she wanted them too.
“If I had a neon sign on my heart Off and on it would go Saying ‘You’re gorgeous You’re gorgeous, you’re gorgeous All night long.”
She thought she heard someone, but they might have just been humming along. Their eyes were on her, and they were impressed. But that wasn’t ENOUGH. She didn’t have time to think much. “It wouldn’t need electricity, It would work by the light of your eyes.”
‘Do-do-de-doodoo’
She smiled, there it was. Someone else was singing. It was quick, but it was something. She stepped off the stage, now, feeling them all singing with her. But her eyes were on the pegasus next to Maestro. She approached her, singing right to her.
“And when they looked at me Everypony would see That it pays to advertise.”
Maybe she had been imagining it. Maybe she just wanted it to be true so badly she heard it. Then again
“If I had a neon sign on my heart Round and round it would go Saying I love you, you’re gorgeous I love you, you’re gorgeous All night long.”
‘I love you, you’re gorgeous, I love you, you’re gorgeous’
It was quiet, very quiet. Again, so quiet she might have only thought she could hear. The purple-maned bodyguard seemed to be moving her lips. It might have been there.
“I love ya, I love ya, I love ya, I love ya,
All night long.”
No, it was there. They were singing with her. She was sure. They HAD to be singing with her. She couldn’t have just imagined this much.
Maybe the rest of the room was singing. This table didn’t seem to be, but this table had the greatest singer she’d ever known, and one of Equestria’s protectors. Maybe that was part of it. They were just too musical to be brought in as easily, this was her first time.
“I wouldn’t need electricity, It would work by the light of your eyes.”
She turned around, and yes, they were. The rest of the audience was tapping on the table, and singing the ‘doo do doo’ sections to back her up.
“But when you’re with me Everybody would see How it pays to advertise.”
“If I had a neon sign on my heart Off and on it would go
Saying I love ya, I love ya You’re gorgeous, you’re gorgeous I love ya, I love ya, You’re gorgeous, you’re gorgeous I love ya, I love ya You’re gorgeous, you’re gorgeous”
She stopped, and turned back around when she got on the stage, watching the whole room sing along. It was ecstatic, at once peaceful and powerful. They sang with her. They sang for her.
They were for her.
“Alll niiiiiiight looooooong!”
She opened her arms wide, and they all sang along. This was it. This was why she’d wanted to be a singer.
Half of why. The other, half was here, though.
The music stopped, and the whole room erupted in applause.
“Thank you. Thank you, all of you. It’s been my dream to perform here.” She smiles, “And I think you can all guess where that dream comes from.” She held her hand out, and people applauded again. “Surprise? Could you come sing with me?”
The room fell silent, and everyone looked at Surprise. She shrunk back a bit, but Maestro said something to her, and the white-coated mare finally stood, approaching the stage, to some applause. Sweetie looked up at her, and gave a comforting smile. There was something in her eyes. It might have been stage fright. She’d heard some say it never got easy to be in public, maybe Surprise was one of them.
There was a soft cough from the piano player.
“Excuse me... What song do you want?”
She smiled, “Don’t worry. It’ll come to you.”
She took a deep breath, and started singing an old waltz. A love song.
“Wunderbar, Wunderbar, There’s our favorite star above. What a bright and shining star, Like our love, it’s Wunderbar.”
They were supposed to sing together. Surprise had got it right, no problem, the first time. And the music that came when you sang just right wasn’t there either.
“Gazing down on the Jungfrau.”
No response, still.
She’d keep singing until Surprise started singing with her.
“From our secret chalet for two”
Still nothing.
“Let us drink, Liebchen mine”
No
“In the moon benign.”
Come on,
“To the joy of a dream come true.”
Surprise had spoke that time. Just whispered. But spoke.
“Wunderbar, Wunderbar,”
Yes, come on...
“What a perfect night for love.”
Sweetie urged her singing partner on.
“Here I am, here you are.”
She’d been definitely singing that time. And the music was distant, but there.
“Why it’s truly Wunderbar.”
She could see the peace coming over Surprise as they sang together.
“Wunderbar, Wunderbar!"
They’d both been singing, there, loud and clear, as the sound swelled around them.
“What a perfect night for love.”
She didn’t even have to wait for the next line.
“Here I am, here you are”
She smiled, it was definitely working!
“Why it’s truly Wunderbar!”
“Wunderbar, Wunderbar!”
Their voices rang out together, as they turned to the rest of the audience
“We’re alone and hand in glove.”
“Here I am, here you are!”
“Why it’s more than Wunderbar.”
Surprise turned her head, drawn into the moment.
“Say you care, dear?”
“For you madly.”
“Say you long, dear?”
“For your kiss.”
“Do you swear dear?”
“Darling, gladly”
“Life’s divine, dear!”
Sweetie held her close, “And you’re mine dear”
They sang together, clear as the sound of a bell “Wunderbar, Wunderbar, There’s our favorite star above What a bright, shining star Like our love, it’s Wunderbar”
The song ended, it was painful being brought from that musical ecstasy into the harsh reality around her. But the applause was deafening. The music had come from nowhere, as only the truly great singers could. Even Maestro, one of their leaders, the fearless triumvirate that guided Equestria, was applauding. His bodyguard was stoic at first, but the maroon stallion gave her a slight shove, and it pushed her to applaud as well. To Sweetie, that meant even more than Maestro’s. She wished she knew why, but it did. She turned back to Surprise, her new friend, her new singing partner
But Surprise didn’t look half as happy. She looked scared. Or maybe shocked. She stared at Sweetie, but Sweetie had her doubts she’d even seen her.
“Surprise?” She asked, concernedly. The room was quiet, now. “Surprise? Are you... Okay?”
Surprise didn’t even seem to notice her, looking at something behind her, and then... It was like a flash. The Golden Mare’s golden mane collapsed. What had been curly and bouncy like a balloon was now flat to her neck, the colors duller.
She stepped back a bit, “Surprise!” She gasped, “Your mane! It...”
“My mane?” She asked, idly bringing a hoof to her mane, drawing one of the long, dulled strands in front of her face. She screamed, stepped back, turned, and bolted.
Her wings beat at the air as the Golden Mare galloped, full sprint. One pony was bowled over, drinks flying through the air, as Sweetie watched her alabaster body disappear out the door. Her face fell, and she turned to the stallion behind her. “Did I do something wrong?”
Maestro laughed. It was a comforting laugh, and his hoof gave her a smack on the back, but friendly, the way he had his bodyguard. “Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing.” He turned to the audience.
“Surprise is just having a bad day,” he told them all, “We all have them. We can’t be worried about bad days. We’ve got a good one, right here!” He shot Sweetie a grin, “And you, kid, I’m gonna make sure you have a lot of good days ahead.”
The yellow stallion’s hooves clopped along the balcony. He looked back to the pink mare, then back out to the rest of Equestria. Lords of Equestria. Right. Sure.
Equestria should have been a nice place. Bright colors. One of the brightest, happiest, most colorful universes in the metaverse. Metaverse. He still had trouble wrapping his mind around the concept. A whole multiverse full of multiverses. And he, of all peo... Ponies... Was part of monitoring it.
Were there more metaverses out there? Maybe a metaverse of metaverses? A... He didn’t even know what the word would be. Uberverse? Would he even be able to UNDERSTAND a word like that?
He’d never been that special. He was just an engineer. Sure, an engineer on one of the most important ships in the fleet, but what did that matter? Just an engineer. An engineer who worked on developing the longest ranged communications system in history, yeah, but whatever. He was a GOOD engineer. Computers were easy. He’d been good with them. It was people he wasn’t as good with. They scared him.
And germs. Those scared him.
Teleporters.
Explosions.
Loud noises.
Cats.
Okay, LOTS of things had scared Engineer in the past. But as far as he was concerned, that was normal. People should be as scared as he was all the time. If you weren’t scared, you weren’t trying hard enough. When you put your mind to it, anything could be scary.
And now, there were whole new things. Sure, he couldn’t die of an illness, and could probably survive even a severe teleporter accident. He wasn’t sure about explosions, but they’d have to be pretty big. Or kill him instantly. And they’d probably bring him back anyway.
He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Humanity had been an easy job. You lived for a while, a century or two at most, then you stopped. He figured he could stop being scared when he was a hundred or so. When you reached that far, something would get you at some point, so what was the point. But he was only 43 when he’d been made an Agent, and rechristened Engineer. He wasn’t sure how old he was, now. He’d spent what must have been a few decades being trained, so he was probably at least 83. They’d been here for six years, make that 89. He’d done a century on a post-apocalyptic world, he recalled, that had been terrifying. 189, then another half century on-
“Not worth counting.”
He looked up. “What?”
Fashionista eased from a reclining position, up into a sitting one. She was grace incarnate. That might have been literal. “Your age. You’re trying to figure out your age.” She shook her head, “It’s not worth counting. You’re beyond that, now.”
“Easy for you to say. You never had to deal with it to begin with.” She scared him. Both of them did. She scared him slightly less. Well, a lot less. Still, she scared him. The pair of them never seemed right. Around normal ponies, they were always too perfect. Like half-programmed simulations. In private, they were downright terrifying. He wondered if he still seemed right to the rest of the world. He wondered how long that would take for that to change. “Details, love, details.” She got up, and he stepped back slightly, instinctively as she approached him. She laughed, “You’re one of the most powerful creatures in the universe, dear. The least you can do is have some dignity.”
He sighed, and relaxed. She might have scared him, but that one wasn’t rational. With Maestro, it was very, very rational. Her? She was just weird. Probably could erase him from existence, but wouldn’t. Most people could kill you when you were human, anyway.
“Look, Fashionista, it just doesn’t sit right with me.”
“What doesn’t?”
“This.” He waved his hoof, “Watching Equestria, one of the happiest places in the Metaverse, turned into this? A 1930s hellhole? For this assignment? It’s not fun, and this” He gestured to his cutie mark, a green head of broccoli on his flank, “Is DEFINITELY not funny.”
She covered her mouth with a hoof, “It’s a little funny.”
“I’m an engineer, not a farmer!” He sighed, and looked over the balcony. “We don’t need to mess with ponies to get what we want. We’ve been here for six years, and we haven’t found what we’re waiting for. We-Gah!” He started as she placed her hooves on his shoulders, then relaxed slightly.
“What are you saying, dear?”
He stumbled for his spot in the conversation. “Why does he have to mess with them like that?”
“It’s how he works. He can’t help it any more than a human can help breathing.”
“I think he finds it fun.” He sighed. All of Equestria, turned totally upside down. The smoke rising from the campfires in the moonvilles. Half the people there had probably been wealthy in the past.
“He’s made for art. This is the only art he understands.”
He snorted, and pawed at the ground, “That’s supposed to make me feel better? ‘Oh, don’t worry about the sadistic sociopath, he can’t actually control himself.’ You have a funny type reassurance.”
He shied away as she tried to give his cheek a kiss, and giggled instead. “You’re cute.”
“I’m freaked out, is what I am. Look.” He looked at her, “I don’t need this to get my technology. You don’t need this to get the fashion. Why are we here? With him?”
“The world needs music. We’re here to assist.”
He laughed, “Right. Look.” He looked serious, “He’s a hundred times more powerful than me, and I wouldn’t like your odds in a fight either. If this was about raw power, we wouldn’t be here. We’re not his assistants.” He sighed, “We’re his babysitters.”
He saw her smile fade a bit, and she joined him in looking out over the sitting, the factories pumping steam into the air, the bright lights of the wealthy quarters, the smoke and campfires of Moonville. The hustle and bustle of a city, and everypony here miserable. The wealthy were as sad as the poor. Maestro made sure of that.
“We’ll finish our work, and he’ll finish his, and we can go on.”
“And we can go on, for a while. Mess with more people’s minds, and lives. Get to play God a million more times. I don’t want to do it.”
“Darling, you must have. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t the right man for the job. So to speak.”
“Sure.” He sighed, “But it’s sickening. All these people bowing and scraping like I’m some deity and not some coward from Cleveland.”
“We’ll just finish and go on our merry ways. You can forget it. Put the memory in something to store it, take it out of your head. Poof. We won’t remember any more than they do.”
“Yeah, but it’ll still have happened. Even if we unmake it happen, it’ll still have happened. I’ll still have done it. And then, I’ll have to do it again.”
“These assignments ARE rare.” She reminded him softly, “You’ll probably not have to do it for a while.”
“I’m going to live infinitely long. That means I’m going to have to do this an infinite number of times. And with him, an infinite number of times. Smaller degrees of infinity, but still infinite. And infinity is a big number.”
“It’s not a number.”
“I know it’s not a number! I’ve been an engineer for long enough to know that! But it’s a big non-number. And I’m going to have to be a big non-number of gods, get worshipped by a big non-number of people, and I’m probably going to mess something up and have to STAY that for years - WHICH I KNOW DON’T MATTER.”
He could feel the music starting. Great, he hated singing.
“Fashionista, I don’t know, I just...”
Yep, there it was. A jaunty tune. Probably a duet.
“I just don’t think I’m qualified To come across all sanctified I just don’t cut it with the Cherubim”
She laughed, “Engineer, what are you talking about?”
She pointed to the crowd below, “There again, they’re on their knees Being worshipped is a breeze Which rather suits us in the interim”
“The interim?” He said, “The interim, it’s me and him!” He paused “Oh my god...”
“It’s tough to be a god. Tread where mortals have not trod. Be deified, when really, you’re a sham. Be an object of devotion. Be a subject of song.”
She smiled, “It’s a rather touching notion, all those prayers, and those salaams. So who am I to bridle, if I’m forced to be an idol?” She gave a shrug “If they say that I’m a god, that’s what I am.”
“What’s more if we don’t comply,” he looked around, “With the Maestro’s wishes I Could see us being sacrificed Or stuffed”
She gave a dismissive laugh, “That’s right, that’s very good thinking So let’s be gods! The perks are great Equestria on a plate” He could have sworn her face dropped a bit, “Our bosses feelings should not be rebuffed”
“Never rebuff, never rebuff the bosses feelings, No my friend...”
“It’s tough to be a god, But if you get the boss’s nod. Count your blessings, keep it sweet That’s my advice.”
He rolled his eyes, “Yeah, great advice.”
“Be a symbol of perfection!” She urged him, “Be a legend! Be a cult! Take their praise, take up collection As the multitudes exult Dawn a supernatural habit, We’d be crazy not to grab it So sign on two new gods for paradise.”
They sang together, finally, “Paradiiiiiiiiise.”
The music died down. But even as it got calmer, and she returned to her placid expression, he raised his voice.
“See what I mean?” He asked, “See? New gods? What does it mean, new gods? I’ve been an agent for centuries, if that’s even a thing. You’ve been doing it since before time began. You’re the opposite of a new god. We both are. Gods look up to US.”
She sighed, “It’s alright, Engineer.”
“It’s not alright! And another thing!” He was pacing quicker. “How come I had to sing there, huh?”
“It’s the universe.”
“It’s not the universe, it’s him! We got the rewrite, it’s clear. I do the tech, you do the fashion, he does the music. But you can’t MAKE him wear an outfit, and I can’t get him to use a lighter for his cigarettes. But we have to sing, like it or not.”
“You have a beautiful singing voice.”
“Not the p-I do?” He stopped, blushing. Sure, she was a pony, but at the moment, so was he. And she was a pretty pony. He wasn’t used to pretty peo-ponies giving him compliments.
“Of course you do dear.” She gave him a pat on the cheek, “Why don’t you go for a walk. You’re just going to get yourself more and more upset.” She smiled, “Go find Twilight. She likes you.”
“Yeah, right. She probably just misses being able to do math.”
She winced.
“Right. Sorry.” He shook his head, “I’m getting worked up.” He sighed, “Maybe I do need something.”
“There. See?” She smiled, “Nothing to worry about.”
He went to leave. Talking to Twilight did cheer him up. She was a good kid. Pony. She was sweet.
LeBlanc hurt. His everything hurt. His literally everything hurt. He hurt in places that he didn’t know existed. He hurt outside his body. He might well have grown a fifth leg, solely to hurt with it. His hair hurt. He didn’t even know how that was possible. The black of his painted-on stripes had worn off mostly in the rain. He probably didn’t need it, anyway. He’d probably gotten a lot more black onto his pale body. And some blue. And purple. And rotten greens. And whatever other colors ponies bruised. To tell the truth, he wouldn’t be surprised if he had even found new colors to bruise. That would probably be his luck.
It did sound impossible, he had to admit. But if there was anyone who could do it, it was him. If anyone in this whole rotten, godforsaken universe could find new and anatomically inaccurate ways to suffer, it would be him.
For a few years, he’d thought he had bad luck. He’d realized that was a mistake. He didn’t have bad luck. Other ponies had bad luck. He wasn’t that lucky. He dreamed of having bad luck. A day of bad luck would be a blessing. He didn’t have bad luck.
Bad luck had him.
See, a pony who had bad luck would might have been so poor and unlucky he’d need to paint on stripes and sing Zebra Pete for a few bits. He might even have been so unlucky that he’d do it at the only bar in town whose proprietor happened to be a zebra. But they probably wouldn’t have done so on the night that the proprietor’s old friend, Equestria’s first zebra boxing champion, Cassius Hay, happened to be visiting. And they certainly wouldn’t have, after being tossed out, woken up right next to the only zebra police officer in Manehattan.
All told, by LeBlanc’s standards, it had gone well. He’d managed to save a couple of those bits. And he’d certainly been on harder cobblestones. Besides, the truncheon had broken after only about eight hits, and the officer didn’t hit as hard as the boxer had. Not a bad day.
He heard a smooth, calm, and familiar voice. “Well. Don’t you look messy.”
Okay. NOW it was a bad day.
“I don’t suppose I’m lucky enough that you’re a professional impersonator?”
“...Sorry. It’s just me.” He opened an eye, to see that familiar wine-red coat.
“...Maestro.”
“In the flesh. So to speak.” He laughed, and offered LeBlanc a hoof.
LeBlanc raised a hoof. It went right through Maestro’s hand, and the pony let out a loud laugh. “You always go for that one, you know.”
“You know how some people have a musical laugh?”
“Yes?”
“You don’t.”
“Your words strike me to the core.”
LeBlanc tottered to his feet. “Nothing broken.”
“There was,” Maestro said, “Couldn’t have that. You’re so much more fun when you can run.”
LeBlanc sighed. “Right. Sure. Why do you mess with me so much?”
“I mess with everyone.”
“Yeah.” The pale stallion said, tottering on his hooves a bit, and then getting to walk back home, “In a general sense. But not specifically. I mean, if they were all talking to you, someone else would believe me. I know you mess with everyone, but you just arrange stuff. I get the personal treatment.
“You must have one of those faces.” They walked towards the alley LeBlanc had slept in for the last few months. He’d tried the Moonville. A misunderstanding had led to him getting kicked out. He was rejected even by society’s rejects.
“So have you figured it out yet?”
“Figured what?” LeBlanc asked.
“You know. Your past. Why you don’t remember your childhood.”
“You could have healed the bruises too, you know. It makes walking hard.”
“I mean, mother. Father. Little puppy dog. Most people have something, don’t they?”
“That’s probably why you didn’t, I guess. Can’t have me walk two miles WITHOUT being in agony, could you.”
“Wife, maybe?”
“Oh, no, no. I don’t get even an hour of a break.”
“Or husband. If you swing that way. I don’t judge, really.” He paused, “Technically, I do. But only because I control the justice system. And the police. Which is really, really convenient, when you think about it. It means that after I arrest someone, I get to try to convince myself they did it. I usually find myself pretty convincing.”
“Just a nice walk home. Someone to talk to who wasn’t a megalomaniacal tyrant.”
“I’m not a Tyrant. Cloudsdale has a tyrant. Zenith. His daughter’s Rainbow Dash. Nice couple. No, I just do ‘rule a nation with an iron hoof’ things. It’s really quite nice. I get to be judge, jury...”
“Executioner?”
“Pah. Boring. Can’t mess with dead people.”
“Did you find me guilty of something?”
“...No. But good guess.”
“Thanks. Do I get partial credit?”
“Fine. I’ll partially stop annoying you. I’m in a giving mood.”
He paused for a bit, walking along. “Just tell me.”
“That,” Maestro laughed, “Would be cheating. Besides, if I tell you, then I’d have to stop doing this. If you figure out what’s going on, I stop. I’m not the type of man who breaks deals.”
LeBlanc groaned. Sure. Just figure out why you have amnesia and the intangible sadist will stop bothering you. Easiest task in the world.
“Ow.”
“What?” Maestro asked.
LeBlanc looked at his foot. “I think I stepped on some glass.”
“Oh dear. Let me help you with that.”
“Yeah, like you ca-What?” He paused. The voice. It had still had that smoothness, that calmness, but not the same cruelty. Force, but not cruelty. He looked up.
The most handsome unicorn he had ever met looked back at him. Not maroon, but pure white, with golden hair, and blue eyes that you could be lost in. LeBlanc had never thought of himself as a colt-cuddler, but a guy like this could make the most straight stallion on the planet reconsider a bit. His strong shoulders were collared to some kind of coach, big enough to fit ten, at least, but he carried the weight with such grace LeBlanc hadn’t even heard him approach. He gave a beatific smile. “Here. Give me your hoof.”
“Are you going to shove it in deeper?”
“Are you a masochist?”
“If I was, would you take it out?”
The stallion laughed, “You are a strange one.” He shook his head, “I was planning on pulling it out. But if you like it there, I can leave it.”
“Out would be nice.”
“Out it is, then.”
LeBlanc tentatively raised his hoof, and the white stallion looked over it. “Oh. That must sting.” He sighed, “Alright. Just close your eyes, and count to three.”
“No.”
“Pardon?”
“I’m not closing your eyes. You might punch me.”
“...Why would I punch you for closing your eyes.”
“I don’t know. So I wouldn’t see it coming?”
“Not my style.” The stallion laughed, and looked over his bruised body, “Besides. Someone else beat me to it. And they clearly did a better job than I could have. You are completely punched. I just have to find another way to render my services. Such as taking this out of your hoof.”
LeBlanc looked at the shining piece of glass, almost two and a half inches long. “I didn’t even feel you take it out.”
“You were distracted by the talking. Where are you going?”
“...Home.”
“And where is home?”
“An alley.”
“I’ll give you a ride.” The stallion gave him a comforting smile.
“I don’t have any money.”
“One, yes you do, and two, what does that have to do with anything?”
“You’re going to offer me a ride in that big coach of yours,” he gestured to the coach, “And then your gang is inside there, and they’ll beat me up, and take my money.”
“I promise they won’t,” he said. “At least in the short term. In the long term, we would very much like to take everyone’s money. It is the route of all evil, after all. Money and nobility.”
“And Maestro.” For once he saw anger in the eyes of the unicorn. It was enough to make him take a jump back, “Okay, not a fan I take it.”
“Money, nobility, and the triumvirate. If we could live without those, we would live in a far better world.”
“You’re crazy.”
“I hope so.” He answered, “The insane see the world differently. I live in a world where thousands crowd into a public park for a place to sleep and hopefully find some food, while other ponies live on estates twice that size by themselves. I think there’s something wrong with that. If that makes me crazy, I’m crazy. If thinking every pony deserves the same respect, the same service, as every other makes me crazy, then I’m proud to be mad as a hatter. I want to help ponies. Society is wrong. It’s turned on its head. We look at noble titles and the Triumvirate and act like it’s normal. In that type of a world, I’m proud to be mad. If everyone joined me in my insanity, we might get somewhere.”
“...Definitely crazy.” LeBlanc sighed, “And what can your insanity get me?”
“A warm bed and a hot meal, to a stallion who sleeps in an alley.”
LeBlanc weighed his options. On the one hand, the stallion was clearly crazy. Mad, bad, and dangerous to know. On the other hand...
“And this hot meal... It is, in fact, a short-term hot meal, yeah? You’re not saying that’s what you’re fighting for?”
“As immediate as it gets.”
“Right, right. And there’s nothing poisonous, or something I can’t digest?”
“It’s perfectly safe.”
“And not made of anything weird, right? Like, you haven’t chopped up ponies and made them into soup?”
“No cannibalism involved.”
“Hmm...” He considered, looking for something else, “The bed. It’s a bed for sleeping on, right?”
“What else would it be?”
“A bed of nails. You could be planning on heating nails up until they’re red hot.”
“It is, indeed, a sleeping bed.”
“Well, you did say it was warm. Most people would say soft, or comfortable.”
“The bed is both soft and comfortable, in addition to its warmth.”
“...Right. But, if I take this, do I have to join you in your insanity?”
“No.”
“Do I have to try to get other ponies in?”
“No, not at all. In fact, you will have to do only one thing with the bed.”
“Yeah, what’s that?”
“Sleep in it. Now get in before it gets too late, you look like you’re going to fall over.”
“Right.” LeBlanc said, going around to the back of the heavy black bus, “I didn’t get your name.”
“Redblood,” The golden-maned stallion smiled, “My name is Redblood.”
“Right. Well, Redblood. I’m not going to join you on some save the world kick. But if I’m getting a free meal and bed out of the deal, then I’ll stay around as long as you like.”
He climbed inside. It was dark in the carriage, but he could tell there were several ponies here, already. Not too many, but he could make them out, as he pushed past them, towards the front of the carriage. He took a seat, opposite the smallest. He couldn’t see, but he wasn’t in the mood for sitting across from people who looked like they could beat him up, and whoever was the smallest seemed safest. He’d done enough being-beaten-up today. He didn’t need more.
His eyes were slow to adjust to the lower light in the carriage. It had probably been a transport for grain, the windows were barely there. But in time, he could start to see more for the shapes. Warm colors tended to come in last, as it happened. But even in this light, he could see the bright red of the filly’s mane and the yellow of her coat. Fairly young, probably late teens. A yellow coat, and blazingly red mane and tail, with big orange eyes. He could even make out the cutie mark. Something carved into it, but he could recognize what the cutie mark was, even at this distance. A red apple.