A "Friendship is Magic" cast ensemble tries to survive LAX airport security so they can fly to Canada and film the show's next episode.
Ponies inhabit the real world...
On the Saturday morning of January 7th, 2012, just as fans are waking up to the newest episode of "My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic", a band of the show's main and supporting characters arrive at Los Angeles International Airport, escorted by the show's creator, Mrs. Fyre-Flye. The time has come for them to fly up to the DHX Media studio in Vancouver, Canada, to film their next episode.
However, a treacherous obstacle lies ahead of that goal: Trying to get through the airport security checkpoint unscathed.
Will the stress of enduring elevated security measures become the ultimate breaking point to our heroines' relationships as costars and friends, or will they finally pull together and succeed what they have failed to do in their last 39 trips?
Based on the characters created by Lauren Faust, and the show “My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic”, owned by Hasbro Incorporated.
[LEGAL DISCLAIMER] This story is a derivative work of an intellectual property controlled by Hasbro. It was produced with absolutely no intent of monetary gain whatsoever; only for entertainment purposes and in tribute to the original franchise.
It is protected under the United States Copyright Act of 1976 (Section 107: The “Fair Use” clause), owing to its dual non-commercial and parodying nature.
Dedicated to: Ms. Faust, Craig McCracken, and every single cast and crew member of the original animated series.
Also to the entire fan community surrounding it, who tirelessly expand upon the show’s mythology and reinvent those wonderful characters into new and intriguing forms. Your work is equally awe-inspiring and envy-inducing. I’m pouring my whole creative prowess into this story in the hope that it measures up as a worthy contribution.
7:37 AM PST (10:37 AM EST) Saturday, January 7th, 2012 Los Angeles, California, U.S.A. On board a private bus en route to LAX
We left the house pretty early this time. Maybe the rest of the day will go smoothly too...
Mrs. Fyre-Flye smiled softly as she allowed herself this momentary notion of confidence. Focusing on her magic-casting horn, the silver pocket watch she pulled out to check the time floated lazily back into the small purse hanging from her long neck, the sparkling aura encompassing it passing on to the zipper as she closed it.
The premiere was at seven, so right now’s the first commercial break of the rerun. The Hub’s market figures I’ve seen showed that at least 36% percent of viewers in the last half-hour stayed tuned in to watch it again; mostly creative fans recording it for inspiration, or for upload to YouTube. That was nine months ago, so who knows if that count’s gotten any higher-
The vinyl-covered bench she was sitting on abruptly shook and rattled her out of her statistical ruminations. Situated in the first row on the left side, behind the driver’s seat, she heard the shudder travel down the bus’s length as the tires rolled over a thermal expansion plate that was wedged between two sections of the freeway asphalt.
She could also hear complaints arising from her fellow passengers about the disturbance.
“Ow, my horn! It hit the bench in front of me!”
“Ow, your horn! Wha-, who? Aw Twilight, we’re not there yet? I’m trying to sleep here!”
“Eek, that’s cold! Applebloom, look what you’ve done!
“Oh no! I’m sorry Scootaloo! I didn’t mean to spill my juice on you! Sweetie Belle, get the napkins! Hm? Oh, thanks Big Macintosh.”
“Whee! That was fun, let’s do it again!”
“Please Ditzy, let’s not. My flank is quite sore already from the last half hour of sitting.”
“Mrs. Fyre-Flye, is everything all right? We seem to be going rather fast. Fluttershy ensured the care of dear Angel to me, and he’s quite upset.”
The Alicorn leaned her head over diagonally to peer at the operator control panel; the speedometer needle teetering past 65 MPH.
“Careful now, Whoopee. We’re not in that a big of a hurry, and you don’t need another citation from the CHP”, Mrs. Fyre-Flye said, placing a reaffirming right fore-hoof on the driver’s shoulder.
Nodding silently, he eased his leg off the accelerator, the dull roar of the engine subsequently becoming softer. Mrs. Fyre-Flye leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. There was nothing to worry about.
We’ll get to the airport early, wait for the others to fly in from Miami, and then get through security together. Easiest workweek ever…
The exciting and winding path that led her to this moment started back in 2008, when Hasbro Studios hired her as the developer and executive producer of a new generation of “My Little Pony” for television. This opportunity allowed her to fulfill two of her lifelong dreams. The first was personal: She was a fan of the toys in her youth, forging new characters and adventures with them. The second was professional; to create quality entertainment for girls, a demographic which has long been neglected as an afterthought.
DHX Media in Vancouver was the studio selected to film it. The actors, directors, costume and set designers, music composers and writers were assembled under her supervision, and the show successfully premiered on October 10th, 2010…
But what followed in the first few months afterward was a phenomenon beyond her wildest expectations. She was getting notes of praise not just from children and their parents, but from ponies of all walks of life. Males, ranging from adolescents to soldiers in the military, would confess to her in their letters that they love the show, the characters, the morals and the humor.
From the humble roots of a children’s television production sprouted a devoted following, and an experience that almost everyone can relate to and enjoy, regardless of gender, age, and even where they live. She took as much time as the production schedule allowed (which really wasn’t much) to thank every single one of her fans, even the ones who expressed constructive criticism on the series. All of their input was invaluable in order for her to grow as an artist.
Sadly, her involvement in the series officially came to an end in April 2011, after putting the finishing touches on the two-part opening of season 2. The decision to relinquish her role as executive producer was announced to the fan-base the following month, on the eve of the first season finale’s airing. From then on, she would become a story consultant whenever the production team asked for her input regarding stories, character details, etc.
It was one of the most excruciating decisions she ever had to make in her career, but the workload had become taxing on her body and spirit. The legacy she left behind with the show was immeasurable. Almost every week, from what she remembered last year as the peak of the show’s production schedule, she would get calls and emails from Vancouver about their progress.
Any possibility of a return to the show was still ambiguous, especially since her latest project, “Super Best Friends Forever”, was quickly picking up steam.
One simple, yet important way she sought to continue playing a role in the show’s success for now…was to ensure that her most beloved creations make their weekly flight to Canada on time. There were no objections raised from Hasbro or DHX about this arrangement. And the actors themselves saw it as a pleasure to continue a relationship with the pony that made each of them a household name.
The bus was a leftover prop from another television production that upon its conclusion, she was allowed to keep. It was repainted a plain, unassuming yellow, and the side windows tinted as dark as legally permitted. For reasons of safety and efficiency are why these changes were made. An elaborately themed tour bus would cause traffic buildup, as fellow commuters around them would slow down and try to spot their favorite character.
The plan every week was to leave the house at 7 o'clock sharp; the moment the new episode began to air. That would keep local fans distracted, and morning traffic would still be light.
But even the best laid plans are rendered moot when these ponies are a part of the equation. It’s always an uphill battle to get them out the door. Whether Twilight studies her script all night and won’t get up, Rarity unable to decide what to wear at the airport, Applejack and Rainbow having another fight about a nightly prank, or the Cutie Mark Crusaders…
The last one was just too painful for her to think about, so she left it at that.
On top of the early departure, this week was different for another reason. Five cast members were out on a small vacation in Florida. Around 3AM, Princess Celestia called from the plane --just before they were wheels up-- to tell her that their flight from Miami International would arrive in Los Angeles by 9 AM local time. Once reunited, they would embark on a 12 noon flight to Vancouver.
The bus exited right off the San Diego freeway and merged onto South La Cienega Boulevard. After another right turn on West Century, it was a straight shot to the airport.
Sunlight pierced into the cabin from the shaded windows, dramatically rolling up and illuminating the pages of a computer-typed manuscript. A female unicorn, whose entire world currently revolved around this special piece of literature, had been using the magic of her horn both to hold it up to her eyes and brighten her surroundings in order to read it.
It was a thick stack of white pages, it’s outer cardboard bindings showed signs of hasty assembly, held together by three metal loops through holes in the pages. Her eyes dashed across lines of dialogue, descriptions of key settings and props, but slowing down to analyze the highlighted sections and addendum written by Mrs. Fyre-Flye. She performed all sorts of movements with her head to characterize how much she agreed with them; turning it from side to side, furrowing and raising her eyebrows, then either nodding or shaking her head.
The sun bloomed brighter and revealed her entire profile.
The unicorn had eyes, a coat, mane and tail that were of contrasting shades of purple, with two additional streaks of color running through both sets of hair. Her cutie mark was an ultraviolet hexagonal star with elongated ends, with six white triangles under-lapping it at each open angle, which was flanked by five smaller white stars that resembled the original shape at the center.
She closed the notebook with a snap, studying the description printed upon the front cover, resting a single hoof upon it as if to appreciate the unseen weight of all the effort that went into it.
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Putting the script down to her side, Twilight Sparkle looked up and out the window, seeing suburb blocks of homes, trees, power line poles and mountains rolling by and descending as the bus climbed up the road to LAX. The ecstatic anticipation she felt going to her first filming session built up strongly inside her once again, now because she was aware that the eyes of the world were upon the show, and on them.
Grinning widely, she leaned forward, over the back of the bench in front of her, and gently tapped a hoof on the shoulder of a baby dragon, who played her personal assistant on the show.
“Spike, Spike, aren’t you excited? Applejack’s getting her own episode for the first time in over a year,” Twilight proclaimed to her sleeping costar.
“She really deserves this. She’s always so nice and helpful to the rest of us. And let’s not forget Ditzy’s acting debut. The ponies are going to go wild over that!”
With enough persistence in her prodding, Spike uncrossed his arms and stretched them out. He lifted his head and yawned loudly, ending in an adorable little squeak, causing Twilight to giggle.
While the majority of the scales that covered his body were purple, he had a light green underbelly, extending from his lower jaw to the tip of his tail. He also had rounded dorsal fins that ran the length of his spine and two additional fins on either side of his head that were different tones of green.
He was wearing a large derby hat. A small black briefcase was leaning in the aisle against the leg of his bench, which contained a variety of precious gemstones for eating. It was always his style to try to give the impression of someone much older. He scratched the hide on his back with one clawed hand, and tipped the hat’s brim up with the other. Large emerald eyes with vertical slits were revealed.
Now fully awake, he registered what the unicorn had told him and nodded.
“Oh yeah, I totally agree with you, Twilight. There isn’t a nicer pony out there than Applejack”, Spike replied with a smile on his own face.
Whenever he started to get nervous and forget his lines, she would stop the camera, and invite him over for a fresh apple pie she brought to the set. They would go over their dialogue together, and by the time the tray was clean, he would be ready to resume filming.
Twilight would offer to help him as well, if only help was synonymous with criticize. Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie would crack jokes, Fluttershy sometimes forgot her own lines more often than he, and although Rarity would try to comfort him, the on-screen tension between them was difficult to overlook. Thus, the responsibility silently fell on Applejack to guide him on his burgeoning acting career. His father was the original Spike in the “My Little Pony” series in the 1980s, which inspired him to follow in his footsteps.
A few rows back sat three young girls. Two of them had older siblings on the show with them, but together they formed an adventurous and trouble-making trio of fillies, determined to discover their unique talent and earn their cutie marks; the aptly-named “Cutie Mark Crusaders”.
They were still finishing up their individual breakfasts: Cereal, waffles, and a cream cheese bagel, with one specially prepared vegetarian egg, and a preferred fruit juice.
The first one was an earth pony with a light yellow coat, amber eyes, red and gently bunched up mane and tail hair, with a large pink ribbon on the back of her head. She sipped loudly from the plastic bowl of cereal, drawing the attention of her older brother.
“Applebloom, be careful not to eat too fast. You might choke and have another accident,” he advised, noting the abandoned cup of spilled orange juice on the floor.
Applebloom looked up at him, her cheeks puffed up with her meal.
“Okay, big brother”, was what she intended to convey in her responsive muffle to him before turning away and beginning to chew on the oats.
The Pegasus in the middle had a burnt orange coat that clashed and brought out the juice stain on her foreleg. Her mane and tail can be characterized as curved and spiked, in a richer tone of plum than her eyes. Impatient like the mare she admired both on and off the show, she sandwiched her scrambled egg in between the waffles and scarfed it down hungrily, scattering foodstuff all over the side of the white unicorn to her left.
“Scootaloooooo!” the third Cutie Mark Crusader whined. “You need to slow down too or you’ll have egg on your face to go with your juice!”
Her coat was pearly white, with mane and tail colors of lilac and puce that rolled gently into itself and had a resemblance to clouds. Her eyes were jade. Like her friends beside her, she had no cutie mark yet. Sitting on the window side of the bench, she wore a cloth napkin around her neck that draped over her lap. Turning away from the messy Scootaloo, she took another bite from her cream cheese and jelly bagel, pausing to wipe the corners of her mouth with the napkin, a perfect display of etiquette training ingrained upon her at birth from her parents.
“Oh Sweetie Belle, such wonderful manners. I’m so proud of you. I’m sure you can teach your friends in turn how to eat like a properly lady”, a lovely voice floated over the backrest.
The older sister had lavender hair fashioned into elaborate curls, partially covered by a knitted short-brimmed winter hat. She was wearing all sorts of silver jewelry and adornments around her forelegs, neck and head, black shoes on her hind legs, and a black-and-white plaid blazer. Wide-lens sunglasses were pulled down by her magic power to reveal sapphire eyes perhaps more luminous than the actual gemstones. Large, beautifully tailored eyelashes and sky blue eyeliner on her upper eyelids. Her cutie mark consisted of three blue diamonds, standing vertically.
“Thanks, Rarity! I-” Sweetie Belle replied on reflex, forgetting that her mouth was full and accidentally sprayed crumbs from her mouth. She quickly stopped herself, but she had already earned an eye twitch and disapproving frown from her sibling.
“Sorry”, she whispered after swallowing her food, looking crestfallen. Applebloom and Scootaloo broke out in laughter.
“Don’t worry about it, Sweetie Belle! Be proud of your title as a Crusader! Good manners aren’t needed”, asserted Scootaloo.
“I agree! Good manners don’t make for good cutie marks”, Applebloom chimed in, showing a grin with pieces of oats stuck to her teeth.
“No they don’t! But you know what does? ADVENTURE!”
“DANGER AND EXCITEMENT!”
Scootaloo and Applebloom turned towards a shirking Sweetie Belle for her contribution.
“Um”, she pondered. “How about good, clean…fun?”
A brief pause and blank stares from her friends. She was about to apologize again when Scootaloo cut her off.
“Now you’re talking! High-hoofs for the Cutie Mark Crusaders!"
The three girls threw their free hoofs up in the air into a loud, three-way clap, scattering food crumbs into the air.
“FOR ADVENTURE, EXCITEMENT, AND FUN!!!” they yelled in unison.
Rarity sighed in resignation and leaned back in her seat.
“If only good manners did lead to cutie marks. It might be good motivation for them to clean up their act”, she muttered to herself.
“Probably not. It wouldn’t appeal to ‘em”, replied a low, male voice close by.
Rarity snapped her head in surprise to the right, forgetting that Applebloom’s brother was sitting right next to her.
He was a burly earth pony stallion with a deep red coat, an orange mane and tail which was cut short, suitable for his outdoor work. He had the image of a green apple sliced in half for a cutie mark, a shade of green that matched his eyes.
“Oh, Big Macintosh, I-I-I am so sorry for such a callous remark! It was not my place to judge my sister…nor yours…or their manners! I didn’t mean it, I-“
Rarity’s blathering apology was halted by a single large hoof brought in front of her. When he lowered it, he had an understanding smile on his face.
“Ain’t nothing to be sorry for, Miss Rarity. I know those girls can be as difficult to manage as a runaway wagon, but remember just how young they still are. They’re only trying to have fun in learning about themselves. Can’t fault ‘em for that”, Big Macintosh commented wisely.
“Yes, absolutely”, the fashion-savvy unicorn beamed.
They spent the next few seconds smiling at each other, looking into each others' eyes in silence until a grey-coated and blond-maned Pegasus, with severely misaligned yellow eyes, popped her head in between them from the back row, smiling.
“Hooray, we’re almost there”, she cried. “I am so excited that they’re giving me my first performing role! The fans are the ones I have to thank for this! We are going to work so well together!”
She wrapped both of her forelegs around the heads of Big Macintosh and Rarity, pulling them both in for a hug against her chest. After momentary looks of discomfort, they looked up in mutual glee.
“Yes, Ditzy, this certainly is your moment. And I can’t wait for us to share the screen together,” Rarity coughed and managed to say in the constricting headlock.
“Likewise," Big Macintosh strained.
“Oh go ahead, you can call me Derpy! That’s the name fans gave me, and I will wear it with pride,” Derpy said happily.
The bus’s last two occupants were an unusual pair. On the show, both supporting characters had never formally met, and the ponies they would normally go on these trips with were not back yet from Miami.
The first one was an Alicorn, the rarest and most powerful species of pony in existence; they had the horn of a unicorn and the wings of a Pegasus. Although she has made only two confirmed appearances in the series, she plays a central part in its mythology as being the master of the moon’s orbit and life cycle. A goddess by design, her ethereal appearance can best be identified by a translucent cloak of a mane and tail, a dark blue coat color, and aquamarine eyes. She wore accessories that were modest yet effective at signifying royalty, such as a tiara and elegantly designed slippers on all four hooves. Her necklace bore a portrait of her cutie mark; a crescent moon swimming in the darkest night.
She was sitting upright on a large custom-installed bed. Despite being a character of omniscient influence, the bed’s sole purpose was to accommodate her and the larger body of her older sister --another Alicorn-- together. In her absence sat a small wicker basket. The Princess of the Moon leaned over and peered through the see-through lid to see how her new traveling companion was doing.
Curled up in a prolonged state of restlessness on a white pillow, next to a glass water dispenser, was a white male rabbit. He was the pet of one of the main stars, Fluttershy, who with great reluctance, decided to leave him at home when he proved to be too much trouble during a previous vacation.
Although often mischievous and manipulative towards his passive owner, the rabbit did care very much for her. Distraught over the perceived abandonment, he started to wreak havoc throughout the house, offenses which included messing up the kitchen and dining room during mealtimes, gnawing on the shoes and furniture of his fellow occupants, and stealing every last roll of toilet paper and hiding them in various places.
Twilight’s magic, Big Mac’s muscle, and even the Crusaders’ tenacity proved to be no match for the agile and surprisingly intelligent creature. Just when all hope that his rampage could be stopped was lost, the rabbit made one very big mistake…He tried to pilfer the younger Princess’ most prized possession. She brought the hammer of Justice down on the tiny animal with the “Royal Canterlot Voice” at full capacity, stamping him out of his crime spree once and for all.
Once subdued, Mrs. Fyre-Flye granted her the responsibility of looking after the bunny. She cherished the opportunity to take care of a pet, which was quite easy now that he responded promptly to her, purely out of mortal fear, of course.
It was the same kind of fear that gripped him right now as he huddled inside his basket, trembling, ears folded back with the Princess looking down upon him. Concerned, she opened the lid and reached inside to stroke his back to calm him down.
“Angel, I’m sorry I scared with you with my loud voice. I was just so upset that I-,” she began to say.
A small squeak of alarm was heard, and she stopped her foreleg in mid-air. Angel was shaking worse than ever and covering his eyes with his paws. The Princess withdrew her hoof, an all too familiar loneliness growing inside her heart.
He fears my voice, and now my touch. How can I possibly reconcile with him?
She suddenly had an idea, blinking away the tears that were beginning to form on the edge of her eyes. She brought a saddlebag in from the edge of the bed and reached inside with her muzzle.
“Oh Angel, look what I have for you,” the Princess hissed gently through clenched teeth.
Angel lowered his paws and looked up to find the most delicious-looking carrot he’d ever laid eyes on dangling from the face of the pony he’d been so afraid of just moments ago.
“Since Applejack went on the trip with Fluttershy, I decided to look after her garden in the backyard too. I picked a fresh bunch this morning before we left,” she explained through her dental grip.
The wide grin she unintentionally made in holding the carrot was so silly that it melted away his fear, causing him to smile in return. He held his arms up high to receive this wonderful gift, and the benevolent Princess slowly brought it down to him. Before taking the first bite, he remembered where the carrot came from, and looked up worriedly at her.
“Don’t worry. If Applejack gets mad later, I’ll take the heat for it,” she reassured and winked at him.
His face returning to a buck-toothed grin, he began to eat, making chewing noises, the midnight Alicorn watching him contentedly.
Through the window to her left, three massive, 3-D letters rolled past in sequence.
7:45 AM PST (10:45 AM EST) Saturday, January 7th, 2012 Los Angeles International Airport, California, U.S.A. Second Floor – Departures
The bus merged from West Century Boulevard onto the airport’s World Way. In the unfiltered sunlight pouring in through the front windows, the control tower, parking garages, theme building and terminals slowly unfolded from the concrete horizon.
A massive buildup of traffic was also revealed; a gridlock of cars, hotel and rental car shuttles, stopping to pick up or drop off passenger ponies. The operator behind their bus however was quite adept at maneuvering this kind of congestion, a skill honed by decades of driving in Los Angeles. He swerved into the gaps of adjacent lanes with the agility of a vehicle that was half its length. Grinning in satisfaction, Mrs. Fyre-Flye could see Air Canada’s terminal coming up steadily. She turned her head towards the passenger cabin for an important decision they all had to make.
“Okay kids,” she began with a smirk. “We still have over an hour before AJ and the others arrive. They’re on an American Airlines flight, which docks at Terminal 4. We have two options: We can pull up at Terminal 2 and wait for them to come to us, or we can go to the American building and meet them at the exit.” As the cast members started to look around at one another, Mrs. Fyre-Flye continued.
“As you know, the reception we’ve gotten at the airport has grown considerably, now that more ponies are watching the show. And I know that some of you get a little anxious dealing with large crowds. I believe our best bet to avoid that is to stay inside T-2, where international travelers mean less chances of being recognized.”
Fluttershy topped the ranks of “Most camera-shy” in the group, but there was also Applebloom and the other “Crusaders”. Even stoic Big Macintosh reached the end of his patience with reporters before. Overall, the ex-producer’s greatest concern was for the young Princess Luna. This would be her first time in public without her sister, and without protective escort from the Royal Guards. She had herself partly to blame for the latter.
Several weeks earlier, when Mrs. Fyre-Flye determined that more time was needed to go over certain script details, the show’s budget was being renegotiated with Hasbro. The guards had to catch the initial flight out because it couldn’t be afforded to book them all for today. That decision had the approval from both princesses at the time. But when Celestia and four of the “Mane Six” went to BroNYCon Winter in New York City, they met a fan who –in an unprecedentedly generous way to express gratitude for their work– gave them AA flight vouchers for a 4-day trip to Miami, Florida. With the credit having a limited window of redemption, they made plans to go on January 3rd, and then meet the others at LAX on the 7th for their weekly filming in Vancouver.
Of course that now left Princess Luna entirely by herself. She was reclusive by nature; her on-screen performance wasn’t just impressive acting. Pairing her with Angel may have eased her isolation a bit, but the situation must have her very nervous.
Ohhh, this is all my fault! Why didn’t I see this coming? …Wait, how could I? You realize how expensive cross-country airline tickets are, and that brony had FIVE of them to give out? Who has that kind of money to spend freely these days? I wish I did...
Dwelling on the negative wasn’t getting her any closer to resolving this dilemma. In fact it was distracting her from finding an answer in the form of Twilight Sparkle raising her right foreleg, wagging it feverishly to get her attention.
“Mrs. Fyre-Flye!” Twilight called out to her. When at last the moniker got through to its owner, the lead star delivered her statement.
“I would like to say –with confidence that I also speak for the others– that we want to go and see our friends as soon as they disembark.”
The Alicorn was taken aback. Perhaps the bond they feel towards one another extended deeper than she previously believed.
“Are you sure that’s what you want? All of you?” she asked incredulously. There were rousing cheers and concurrences coming from the rest of the cast members.
“100%. It comes with the territory, and I don’t want to let our fans down,” Twilight replied.
“But of course, darling! We live in Los Angeles, after all. If there wasn’t a single reporter camping out at the airport, waiting for stars like us… Why, I cannot even fathom such a dreadful possibility!” Rarity gasped.
“You betcha! I want the ladies to get a look at the more suave version of Spike: international dragon of mystery,” the young boy crooned, tipping his bowler hat down to cover his left eye. Twilight buried her face in her front hooves to muffle her snickering.
“Hah, yeah right! It’s no mystery where you get your cheesy lines from,” said Scootaloo, rolling her eyes.
“Or what he’s named the teddy bear he goes to sleep with,” Applebloom taunted.
Cheeks blushing, Spike jumped up from his seat, hanging onto the backrest with one hand and brandishing the bowler hat in the other at the girls’ direction.
“Hold it right there! Don’t say mean things about James Bear!” he demanded hotly. “He’s twice the adventurer you three will ever be!” Right next to him, leaning against the sheet metal of the cabin, was a stuffed toy bear wearing a black tuxedo and bow-tie over a white dress shirt, with a tiny silenced pistol in one paw.
The fillies laughed. Spike returned to the correct seating position, puffs of smoke escaping his nostrils when he snorted in annoyance.
“Um, Mrs. Fyre-Flye? What we really meant to say is that the Cutie Mark Crusaders will always fight for our friends and loved ones. We’re not afraid of anything!” Sweetie Belle declared with such passion that momentarily stunned her team members.
“Wow, Sweetie Belle’s on fire today!” Scootaloo observed respectfully.
“I’ll say! And to the Apples, there’s nothing else worth fighting for than family,” Applebloom said, looking up at her brother for affirmation.
“Yes ma’am,” Big Macintosh agreed, smiling down at her.
The bus edged out of the heavy traffic and arrived at Terminal 2 curbside, where a cylindrical signpost was suspended overhead.
Mrs. Fyre-Flye got out of her seat, remotely aware that they’d arrived. She walked down the aisle, looking into their faces, with her own growing hot from the prolonged smiling and swelling admiration for her creations.
Remarkable. Simply remarkable. When did they get so strong in spirit? They couldn’t have gotten it from me alone. This must’ve happened as a result of working together for so long. They’ve taken on a life of their own, no doubt about it.
She stopped directly in front of the bed, where Princess Luna and Angel looked up at her attentively. The slightest wavering could not be found in their eyes. She already knew the answer, but she asked her question again as if to make the heavens above her witness.
“Et tu, Princess Luna?”
She arose from her seating position. A smile traced its way across her slender face. With sparkling eyes that could outshine stars, and a voice as clear and present as Earth’s natural satellite, she responded.
“Yes, Mrs. Fyre-Flye, Angel and I are quite sure. I shall embrace the public without fear. It is what my sister has always wished for. And Angel will go because he wishes to help Fluttershy one day find the same courage that beats within this regal heart.”
Angel hopped out of his basket and stood in line next to Luna’s two front hooves. He crossed his arms in front of him, furrowing his eyebrows and nodding silently.
Words became irrelevant. With bursting affection, Mrs. Fyre-Flye stepped her forelegs onto the bed, lowered her head and embraced Luna with the side of her neck, which the princess returned. She sniffed through her nose softly, tears running down her face. The scene was drawing a collective “Awww” from the rest of the cast.
You’ve grown up so fast. You’re light-years ahead of the Luna I conceived. No matter what happens, I will always be proud of you.
Mrs. Fyre-Flye stepped back, looking once again at the pony that she was once so fearful for. Luna’s character is one that continually defies your perceptions with underlying quality.
It’s not a mystery anymore as to what a supporting character needs to gain widespread appeal. Just look at “Derpy”. She’s about to have her first ever speaking role in this episode-
The word “episode” brought her back to her hectic, deadline-driven mindset. She was about to pull the watch out of her purse again to check the time when she heard two high-pitched siren chirps. Through the window of the emergency exit door, she was staring down a black-and-white Ford Crown Victoria Police Interceptor parked right behind them, the officer in the driver’s seat trying to signal the loitering bus. She knew instantly the only time that mattered: Time to move.
Forgetting the watch altogether, she snapped her head to the front, noticing the driver had also been witnessing the emotional exchange.
“Okay, Whoopee, you heard the princess! To Terminal 4, right away!” Mrs. Fyre-Flye said quickly. He rapidly swerved back in his seat. Turning the key in the ignition, the engine churned to life. With a shifting of gears, the bus turned left into delved back into the river of cars, with the police cruiser following suit moments after.
Note: This picture is just a point of reference. There are no humans depicted in this story.
Past Terminal 3, and the Tom Bradley International Terminal, they arrived at a modernized portion of the complex. The steel and glass architecture rose high above the older portions, ending in an arched rooftop. A sign posted over on the closest doorway welcomed them to Terminal 4.
The hydraulic brakes hissed loudly from the vehicle’s undercarriage as it came to a stop. Mrs. Fyre-Flye scanned the curbside from left to right. As expected, it was congested with the activities of all kinds of commuters. There were business-ponies, couples, families, and swarms of uniformly-dressed students bound for a field trip.
No press yet on-site though. Thank goodness.
She felt relieved, well aware that it would only be momentary. All it takes is a single phone call, text message, Facebook or Twitter post from a passenger or employee, and they would be here within an hour or less; a well-oiled machine of responsive action that could rival the Postal Service.
She walked up to the double-doors on the right-hand side as the anticipant driver pulled them open. A crisp winter breeze wafted in through the opening, caressing her and inducing a slight chill.
“Go and find a spot in temporary parking. I’ll call you when we’ve linked up with the others,” Mrs. Fyre-Flye instructed him while still looking out the doorway. Confident that he acknowledged the command, she climbed down the steps. Liberated from the cramped dimensions of the bus, she outstretched her legs and wings to full length.
Right away, the first aspect of her appearance that drew everyone’s attention was that she was an Alicorn, similar to Princesses Celestia and Luna. Her coat and feathers were white and glowing in the sunlight, with her magic-casting horn poking out between bangs of long garnet hair. Her cutie mark –the unique defining trait of every single pony in existence– was the depiction of a feather quill dipped into an inkwell.
She breathed in and exhaled slowly, sequentially closing and reopening her blue eyes and smiling. Even the stale, pollutant-laced air of LAX’s curbside seemed wonderful to experience, remembering that less than a year back, she would’ve been so absorbed in the production of each episode that she could hardly recall what she’d had for breakfast, let alone determine the air quality.
She returned a glance to the loose semicircle of ponies that had been curiously studying her. Suddenly their faces lit up with excitement, hearing familiar voices next to her greeting them.
“Good morning, everypony.” Twilight winked at the crowd.
“Hey, how you guys doing? Today is a good day to fly.” Spike tipped his hat in emphasis of the quip.
“Oh my God, is that-?"
“It is! Twilight Sparkle and Spike, from ‘My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic‘!”
“Oh wow, I love that show! I can’t believe they’re here!”
The unicorn and dragon stepped forward and started mingling with the fans, their crescent formation becoming denser and more tightly weaved. Cell phones and camcorders -wielded by either hooves or magic- were frenetically taking pictures. A new wave of clapping and cheering announced the appearance of two more cast members.
“Hey, look who’s coming out next! It’s Rarity and Sweetie Belle!”
“Aren’t they simply precious together? You’d never find a more magnificent pair of sisters!”
“That winter outfit is to die for! Just like Rarity; always one step ahead of the curve!”
“Thank you, thank you all! It’s my own personal ensemble called ‘Nouvelle Année’ or ‘New Year’. You’ll find plenty of wonderful winter selections online at CarouselBoutique.com! I also do custom tailoring!” Rarity advertised proudly, her sunglasses deflecting camera flashes.
“Hiya! Cutie Mark Crusader #3 here! Applebloom will be out in a minute, just as soon she coaxes the chicken out of her coop!” Sweetie Belle motioned with her head back to the bus, a sly expression on her face. One of the windows facing them was instantaneously ripped open by an exasperated Scootaloo, much to the audience’s shock.
“HEY! I heard that, cheesy breath!” she yelled before slamming the window shut and disappearing from view.
“That’s funny, her reaction time’s usually faster,” Applebloom documented aloud while climbing down the final stair. “Must be those eggs she’s eating. All that fat and cholesterol will slow anypony down eh, Big Mac?”
“Eeeyup,” he replied, chuckling. The crowd was uproarious after hearing another signature quote from the show.
“Awesome, it’s Applebloom and Big Macintosh!”
“Big Macintosh is the man!”
“Hay yeah! Can we have a brohoof over here, please?”
As they joined in the festivities, Princess Luna gingerly made her way down the staircase, carrying Angel on her back. She sat down next to Mrs. Fyre-Flye, bowing and waving at the crowd. Angel relocated to the top of her head, leaning outward by holding to her horn with one paw and waving with the other.
“Luna is here too? I must be dreaming!”
“I know! I’ve never met either of the princesses before!”
“And look, that must be Angel! They look so adorable together; total opposites, just like him and Fluttershy!”
After warmly acknowledging Luna and Angel, Mrs. Fyre-Flye spared another glance at her pocket watch: It was now 8:28 AM.
The flight will be landing soon. What’s taking the last two so long?
“No w-w-wait, Derpy! I’ve changed my mind about this! I-I don’t need to make a big entrance!”
Puzzled, she turned around, and then jumped in alarm when she witnessed several strong impacts rocking the vehicle’s chassis. The emergency exit hatch on the roof was punched open by a gray hoof, followed by more frantic pleading.
“I appreciate the offer, but I’ll get Apple and Sweet back another time! No need to be so hast-EEEEEEEEEEEEK!!!”
A gray and orange mass blasted out of the hatch like a missile, spinning like a corkscrew. Once it breached 30 feet of air, the object stabilized and revealed itself to be a Pegasus mare and filly, their features drowning in the sunlight. She dived towards the crowd of ponies, the filly’s hooves were wrapped tightly around the neck and screaming at the top of her lungs.
“AAAAAAAAAHHH!!! SOMEPONY HELP MEEEEEEEE!!!”
She pulled out of the dive a little too close for comfort, forcing her co-stars and the fans to duck in cover. The Pegasus banked left and started flying in circles above the entire scene, slowly increasing the velocity of her revolutions.
“PUT ME DOWN, DITZY!!! PUT. ME. DOWN!!!”
Ignoring Scootaloo’s cries, her circling adapted into figure-8 maneuvers, culminating in a single vertical loop. Before she could perform another, a loud authoritative voice intervened.
“ENOUGH, DERPY! COME DOWN HERE THIS INSTANT!”
Mrs. Fyre-Flye, bearing a fierce expression and voice, that only a very unlucky few have suffered, raised a collective flinch from the crowd. Derpy complied immediately, dropping straight down like a rock and landing at the epicenter of the gathering, before the former executive producer. The disoriented Scootaloo relinquished the death grip on her neck, sliding down the back and onto the pavement. Applebloom and Sweetie Belle rushed forward to aid their compatriot. Once turned upright, the Pegasus filly’s eyes snapped open and her cheeks popped with air as nausea started to take effect.
“Mm-muh-move! Out of my way!” she moaned, clamoring to her feet and running behind the bus. A vile duo of retching and splashing sounds could now be heard. Mrs. Fyre-Flye paid no mind, still glaring at the defeated-looking mare. She was a gray coated and feathered Pegasus, with a blond mane and tail. The cutie mark on both flanks was a collection of air bubbles.
"Derpy, what on earth were you two thinking? Just what was that stunt supposed to accomplish?" Mrs. Fyre-Flye demanded. A few tense seconds pass before she answered.
“Scootaloo gets pretty upset when ponies mock her about flying,” Derpy said slowly and fearfully, hanging her head in shame with her mane concealing her face.
“She told me Rainbow Dash would always fly her around on her back after each shooting, whenever she wanted,” she continued. “And since she wasn’t here right now, I thought I’d take her place.”
When she lifted her head to look at Mrs. Fyre-Flye, tears were already streaming downward, eyebrows arched upward in sadness. The orientation of her eyes would have been comical under different circumstances. Instead, everyone watching shared in her sorrow.
“I-I’m sorry, ma’am. All I wanted to do was to help her feel better. I thought I could be her Rainbow Dash, but I just don’t know what went wrong,” she murmured, hiccuping between sobs.
"I can answer that...urgh," groaned a voice that became clearer as it moved around the bus.
Scootaloo emerged from her indisposition with a green tinge fading from her complexion, her eyes squinting from a headache. She stumbled over, sitting down in between the two and facing the Alicorn.
"Everypony knows how much I admire Rainbow Dash. When I meet other fliers, I can't help but compare them to her, sometimes even forcing them to be more alike. That's what I did to Derpy when I told her about all the amazing things Rainbow Dash does for me; it made her question her own qualities and talents that make her special." She lifted and turned ninety degrees left so that she could take turns looking at Mrs. Fyre-Flye and Derpy.
"But Derpy already has her cutie mark, and so does Rainbow Dash. I see now that nopony can change theirs once it's earned. I don't have my cutie mark yet, but when I finally do, it's going to be through something I can do better than anypony else."
Derpy was lowering a hoof after wiping away tears when she saw Scootaloo turning to face her. Expectant of harsh words, she was caught off-guard to see the younger Pegasus smiling.
"I'm sorry, Derpy. You’re a great friend the way you are. Thank you for trying to cheer me up." Scootaloo held up her forelegs for a hug. Derpy accepted at once, snatching her up and squeezing her against her upper chest.
The crowd exploded in applause. It wasn’t long before they collaborated on a rhythmic chant.
Derpy lowered Scootaloo back down. Applebloom and Sweetie Belle charged in and embraced her together, offering both their praise and apologies. Mrs. Fyre-Flye took in the whole event with an ever-increasing sense of pride. She left the show with a tremendous amount of uncertainty about the future of her creations, but they have proven to her more than once today that they were going in the right direction, both in their professional and personal relationships. In a sudden burst of longing, she looked back for the bus and its driver, surprised to find that it had left unnoticed.
Several minutes later, when the fans seemed content, she rallied her band of ponies and marched them into Terminal 4. To their right were long lines at the self-check-in kiosks. Straight ahead was an escalator that went up to the security checkpoint and the boarding gates beyond it. Mrs. Fyre-Flye darted over to the encased monitors that were bolted to the steel superstructure.
“Hmm, about 7 minutes left,” Twilight noted after coming up to join her.
“Is that 'til touchdown, or when they get to the gate?” Spike asked.
“Either way, it won’t be long. Let’s go find a good spot to meet them.” The show’s creator urged them all forth with a wave of her foreleg.
Because they didn’t check-in with Air Canada yet, the airline representative guarding the escalator’s foot wouldn't permit them to go up without a valid ticket. Instead they went through an underpass of the boarding level, finding another set of escalators on the other side that were closer to the concourse exit. With no seats at all nearby, they made due with a makeshift bench that was part of the terminal’s framework.
Rarity climbed up first, folding her hind legs underneath, but sat upright within a millisecond of lying down on the surface.
“Ooh, it’s so cold, and so hard! It makes those seats on the bus seem comfortable!” Shivering, she clenched her eyes behind her sunglasses, tucking her forelegs into herself to restore warmth.
“It’s concrete, my dear. You can’t expect it to be anything but,” Princess Luna reminded her as she lay down herself, giving off a slight shake upon contact. “Would you prefer the carpet over there? It seems to agree with those passengers sleeping on it.”
The fashionable unicorn grimaced at the sight that Luna was pointing to; ponies unashamedly lying on the heavily trampled carpeting with personal belongings in their unconscious grip.
“…No, thank you. Nothing wrong with a little perspective to better appreciate one’s lot in life,” Rarity stated flatly, giving off a muted whine when she rested herself on the freezing rock again.
When the minutes into their wait seemed to drag on, a prerecorded female voice made a delightfully mundane announcement over the intercom.
"American Airlines announces the arrival of flight two-nine-nine, with service from Miami. Arriving passengers can be met at baggage carousel four. Thank you."
“That's it. They're here," Mrs. Fyre-Flye said aloud.
Big Macintosh yawned and stretched all four legs, waking up from a nap he took against one of the diagonal steel columns. Spike sat forward from the glass window, grabbed the prone bowler hat and flipped it atop of his head, only for Angel (who was sleeping inside it) to pop it right off and onto Princess Luna's head, stirring her back to life. Twilight ceased perusing her copy of the "Episode 40" script, casting a spell to make it disappear at will. Sweetie Belle returned Rarity's smart-phone to her after she and her friends took turns playing "Angry Birds" on it. A fresh influx of passenger streamed down the escalator. The gang scanned intently through the crowd for their friends.
"Up there, girls! There she is! Good morning, Applejack!" Derpy shouted elatedly.
Everyone craned their heads up to look up at the third floor balcony, spotting the star of the new episode leaning against the railing, beaming and waving her cowboy hat at them on one forehoof.
"Howdy! And a g’morning to y’all too! Hope you weren't waiting long!"
“NOPE!” Applebloom and Big Macintosh yelled in unison, smiling.
Fitting the hat back on, she galloped towards the escalator, hopping nimbly down the steps. Slipping her saddlebags off and onto the floor, she moved in for a three-way hug with her family members. Mrs. Fyre-Flye and the rest of the cast converged to share in the embrace.
She was an earth pony with an orange coat and a trio of white freckles beneath each of her green eyes. Hay-colored mane and tail hair were tied together with red ribbons, ending in small, spiky bunches. She was crowned with a large brown Stetson hat that had a circular cut in the front brim. Three bright red apples are what her cutie mark comprised of.
“Welcome back, Applejack,” Princess Luna said after a courteous bow. “You look refreshed. How was Miami?”
“Aw it was incredible, Luna! I wish all of y’all could’ve been there! It was exactly as they say: Non-stop fun in the sun!”
“I’ll bet! The pictures you sent us online probably don’t do it justice!” Twilight exclaimed.
“Ooooh, what is that pretty flower?” Derpy asked, inching Applejack’s hat to one side with one limb, revealing delicate white petals sprouting from behind one ear.
“Why it’s an orange blossom,” Applejack said, plucking it out of her hair by the stem and passing it to Derpy. “I bought a packet of seeds for the backyard garden, so we can have real Florida orange juice anytime.”
The Pegasus closed her crossed eyes and deeply inhaled the sweet aroma of the flower several times before compulsively tossing it into her mouth. Savoring the flavor released with every chew, she gave a sigh of contentment after swallowing it. When she opened her eyes, she was facing a stunned Applejack.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry about your flower! It just smelled sooo good that I couldn’t help myself!” Derpy apologized quickly, holding a hoof to her mouth.
“Shucks, it’s all right, Derpy. I’ve got a bag full of seeds to grow more. Besides, I doubt Customs up north would’ a let it through anyway.” Applejack leaned in closer to Derpy’s visage, cupping a hoof to her own mouth as if to share a secret.
“Y’all promise not to tell nopony that I like oranges now, right?” She playfully whispered, glancing furtively at every one of her costars, to which they all broke out in laughter.
It was obvious what she was referring to. As insignificant and outright silly this revelation may be, everything they said and did held immense volume within the fan community and often taken extravagantly out of context. It was fun toying with them at first, but over time they learned to be careful with what they share outside of official performances.
“Applejack likes oranges? Oooh, that dirt’s worth its weight in gold! Wait ‘til Equestria Daily hears about this!” a female said in a high-pitched tone. While everyone jumped at the intruding outburst, it was the farmer who registered the threat.
“GAH!” Applejack yelped, leaping onto her hind legs and clawing feverously into the air with her forelegs. Losing her balance, she stumbled backward and tripped over her own saddlebag, collapsing on the ground in a heap.
“No fair, Pinkie! You stole my joke!” Spike lamented. He folded his arms in front of his chest, disappointed momentarily before remembering who he just spoke to.
“PINKIE PIE!” everyone yelled delightedly.
The laughing earth pony’s coat was light pink. A richer shade was reserved for her mane and tail, wild and curly like cotton candy. Her eyelids opened to reveal the most piercing baby blue eyes imaginable. Her cutie mark were three balloons; two blue and one yellow.
“Wow, Applejack! If you got that scared about the world finding out your taste for citrus, imagine how worse you’ll react for something bigger!” Pinkie Pie snickered as she helped her fallen friend.
“I didn’t get scared over that!” Applejack indignantly accepted Pinkie’s hoof to get back on her feet. “You just surprised me when you fell behind to check on Rainbow Dash. I forgot that you weren’t behind me anymore.” Pinkie’s amused stare was egging Applejack on, so she switched to an offensive stance.
“And for the record, y’all better not be serious about posting anything to Equestria Daily, or any other website! You know the rules Mrs. Fyre-Flye gave us!”
“I know, don’t worry! I feed those guys disinformation all the time, so they’ll never know what’s true or not! Look!” Pinkie reached into her saddlebag and pulled out her smart-phone, with equestriadaily.com refreshing itself as the browser’s homepage. She tapped the “SUBMIT” tab on the screen with her free hoof, then the appropriate email address, which prompted a new message to open up. She set the phone on the floor and began typing away at a blinding pace.
“Attention Equestria Daily,” Pinkie Pie read aloud. “Applejack likes bagels! Season 3 will be the last one ever! The Mane Six, Spike, and Mrs. Fyre-Flye are currently at a convention in Egypt called ‘SandyCon’ – Buy your tickets yesterday! Love, Pinkie Pie”
After sending the misdirecting email on its way, she gripped the edge of the phone with her teeth. With an upward pull of her neck, the phone flipped gracefully in mid-air before landing inside the open pocket of her saddlebag. Pinkie Pie beamed at the bewildered Applejack.
“If you really do that kind of stuff all the time, then I’m surprised they haven’t blocked your email address yet,” the cowgirl finally said.
“I know!” Pinkie yelled as she threw her forelegs straight out in disbelief. “Maybe they think it’s funny too! They’d never believe it was the REAL Pinkie Pie behind it, so anything I tell them is automatically not true! And I’m not the only rule-breaker here, isn’t that right, Ms. Twilicious?”
The party animal bopped her head in view of the studious unicorn, who got jittery and avoided eye contact when she became the conversational focus. Everyone on the show knew about Twilight’s impromptu, yet catchy little song, captured on film in the library set when the camera was accidentally left running. Preserved as part of an in-house blooper reel, Director Wootie notified them that the footage recently went missing.
“Pinkie, shhh!” Twilight hissed between her teeth. “It wasn’t me who stole that recording! Come on, what are the odds that someone will leak it online?” she whispered nervously. Applejack groaned and held a hoof up to her forehead in disbelief.
“Applejack, what did you mean when you said Pinkie was checking on Rainbow Dash? Is she all right?” asked Scootaloo, her wide eyes pleading for an answer. Grateful at the change of subject, she finished putting the saddlebags back on and obliged.
“Ain’t nothing serious to be worried about, sugarcube. That reckless daredevil really took a liking to Miami and didn’t want to leave. So on the last night of our stay she-“
“She started flying around town like a bat outta hay, looking for things to do, things she thought she missed out on!" Pinkie interrupted to tell her favorite part of the story, then started running circles around the group on her hind legs, with the fore ones stretched out in front, mimicking their co-star’s flying style. “Zoom, zoom!”
“Yeah,” Applejack continued. “Off she went into the sunset sky, going without food or rest; highly unusual for that pony. Must’ve been something in the beach water, I dunno. When we woke up at 4 AM to catch the return flight, she was back, hunched over and trying to close her suitcase, bursting with souvenirs. We had to buy her a new bag at the airport, paying extra to check all that junk under the plane,” she said, shaking her head at the exorbitant prices they needlessly paid at the end of their trip.
“But the real trouble began when we were halfway to LA. Flying around all night with no food took its toll on poor Dashie. Her blood sugar did a nose dive, her face getting real pale, and she started saying that she could barely see anything,” Pinkie said in a softer tone that unnerved Scootaloo. “A flight attendant quickly brought some snacks, and she got better after eating.”
“Oh, thank goodness.” Scootaloo released the breath she was holding involuntarily.
“Thank Princess Celestia. She got help for me on the plane. I felt like such a jerk for making you guys pay extra at check-in to admit I was starving,” admitted a normally boisterous female voice.
Taken by surprise yet again, the cast members spun around to see a blue Pegasus with a new silver suitcase in tow. She lowered her head to one side in a pained expression. A yellow Pegasus trotted up from behind, unfurling her left wing and cradling her friend.
“Please stop beating yourself up. You’ve got to save your energy or you’ll be pulled off an episode again,” her miniscule voice uttered sternly.
“RAINBOW DASH!” Scootaloo galloped out first from the herd and squeezed her hero’s forelegs together with an embrace. A joyful squeak preceded Angel scampering back to his gentle owner.
“Hey, kiddo,” Rainbow nuzzled the top of the filly’s head with her snout.
The first winged pony’s coat and feathers were sky blue. The key identifier of course was the unmistakable six-color spectrum that composed her mane and tail, furnished in a ragged appearance, with neon pink eyes. Her cutie mark was immortalized as a puffy white cloud firing a massive red, yellow, and blue bolt of lightning.
“C’mon, Fluttershy, let go,” Rainbow Dash said while shaking off the extra wing. “I’ve survived worse.”
The second Pegasus’ teal eyes winced as her bedside manner was rejected, recoiling her light yellow body away. Angel climbed up her bright pink tail hair, rushing up to hug the back of her neck, passing a cutie mark on the flank of three blue and pink butterflies in a mid-air dance.
“Hello, Angel. Have you been a good boy while I was gone?” Angel nodded his head vigorously against her in response. Smiling, Fluttershy rolled her head back, nobly trying to requite the love, wrapping the bunny in a curly curtain of a mane.
“Tch, liar,” Spike said under his breath. He was preparing another rude sarcastic gesture, but withheld it when he saw Mrs. Fyre-Flye stroll past him towards the Pegasi.
“Rainbow, are you sure you’re fit to travel again? The studio won’t be happy to hear about another delay, but your well-being comes first,” the towering Alicorn asked.
The tomboy puffed up her chest and flared her wings wide open. Eyebrows arched down and with a defiant smirk, she replied.
“Hay yeah, ma’am! I’ll make it even if I have to fly there on my own two wings!”
“NO!!!” Her co-stars screamed collectively at her, with Princess Luna’s “Royal Canterlot Voice” knocking the blue mare flat on her back and raining dust from the ceiling. Passengers and employees alike stared at the noisy rabble.
“Sheesh, hasn’t anypony ever heard of a joke?” Rainbow asked, leaning up and trying to beat the ringing out of her ears.
“Yes, and that was an exceptionally good one to get a response like that,” said a powerful feminine voice with a chortle. The prankster shot her head upward and discovered that she was lying before the hooves of the Princess of the Sun, the equine monarch’s beautiful smile shining brilliantly upon her.
The eldest of Equestria’s ruling Alicorn sisters resembled Mrs. Fyre-Flye in slender height and snow white coat. Gold slippers capped all four hooves, the frontal design flowering up her ankles. An armored breastplate –decorated in ornate patterns and a large purple gemstone at the fulcrum– concealed the joint line between the neck and torso. Like her younger sister, her mane and tail were glistening, fluidic shrouds of otherworldly quality, streaked in four different colors. Baby pink is her eye color, ironic given the immortality gifted to her by the show’s backstory. A trident tiara, with the same etched figures and encrusted gem as the breastplate, is what she wore behind her mighty horn. A cutie mark of a sun with shimmering waves of heat completing the portrait of Princess Celestia; the title most of the world knew her by.
“BIG SISTER!” cried out the only pony who knew this next crucial role Celestia had to play. Princess Luna soared fast and low over the others towards her, the wind gust generated by her wings unbalancing Rainbow Dash as she was struggling to her feet, Then Twilight Sparkle and Spike stampeded past without warning, sending her to the floor again, face-first this time. The sibling, protégé, and envoy hugged the princess simultaneously.
“Welcome back, Princess,” Rarity said after a short bow. “I can’t wait to hear your stories about how marvelous Miami was.”
“All right, the whole gang’s back together!” Sweetie Belle yelled while hoping up and down happily. “That means we’re ready to shoot this new episode now right, Mrs. Fyre-Flye?”
She looked up at the legacy showrunner, noticing that she was holding up a cell phone with her magic and speaking to someone. Acknowledging the question, she gave a quick nod and winked an eye at the filly. Satisfied, Sweetie Belle returned to the reunion party.
“How much did y’all really see down there? Did you go to the beach every day?” Applebloom asked of Applejack.
“Nah, it would’ve been a waste of time to do just that! There’s WAY more to do in that town!” Rainbow interjected boastfully.
“Ooh, like what?” Scootaloo yearned to know more.
“We heard some great musical shows down there; a new one each night! Miami’s got some talent, I’ll give ‘em that!”
“That’s nothing compared to the kind of food they have! Congri y plantains, yucca frita, and tamales! And the desserts are even better! Dulce de leche, flan, and those pastelitos with cheese and guava filling!” Pinkie Pie pressed her forehooves against her cheeks and licked her lips, trying to remember each of those savory dishes.
While the others were mostly drawing blanks at their names, Twilight could recognize a few from the Mexican restaurants in LA. ‘Pinkie Pie’s an ambassador of food. Four days in Miami and she’s already got a native tongue,’ she humorously thought to herself.
“Well, my favorite parts were the museums, and the Miami Seaquarium. The manatees, sea lions, and dolphins were very cute and friendly, although I couldn’t bear to sit through the killer whale show. If only they didn’t have such a scary name,” Fluttershy shuddered while Angel smacked a paw to his forehead.
“I’d like to hear about some of those museum exhibits, Fluttershy,” Big Macintosh said stealthily. The yellow Pegasus snapped out of her catatonic state.
“Okay, you got it,” she said with a smile.
“What about you, Big sister? What did you do while you were over there?” Princess Luna inquired.
“Yeah, what did you like most about Miami?” Derpy flew up to Celestia to meet her eye-to-eye, or as best as she could manage anyway.
When she noticed that everyone’s attention was now on her, she smiled anxiously, a rare sight for the usually cool-headed actor.
“Oh, I was your typical beach bum. I loved South Beach too much to see anything else. Thus I am guilty as charged, Rainbow Dash.”
“Hey, I think she had the right idea. The beach is where it’s at to meet that special somepony,” Spike said casually, once again displaying a level of maturity beyond his years. Rarity couldn’t contain herself. She picked him up in her forehooves.
“Ohhh, little Spikey-wikey has grown up so much since we started working together. I can’t wait to meet the lucky girl who gets this little charmer,” she cooed while cuddling him, the boy using the bowler to hide his visage, reddening in embarrassment. The group erupted in another round of raucous laughter.
“Which reminds me: I’m sure you’re wondering about that awesome dude we met in New York who made this trip possible in the first place. Plus I have to pass out all the souvenirs we collected from Florida. Most of it’s for us, but we got you guys a fridge magnet or two,” Rainbow Dash teased.
“Yeah, none of you ever really talked about him before! I’m curious to know what he was like!” Twilight said, intrigued.
“A real gentlecolt, that one,” Applejack affirmed, staring towards the ceiling as she recalled their meeting. “Never met anypony like him before. He definitely set himself apart from the bronies by the way he dressed.” Before they could go into further detail, Mrs. Fyre-Flye stepped in with a mission update.
“Okay, it’s 9:37 and the bus’s here! We have to hurry and get back to Terminal 2 to check-in for the fli-“
Mrs. Fyre-Flye’s eyes and mouth grew wide open as she left her sentence unfinished. When the cast members turned around, they understood why.
Though the 3rd floor underpass, at the other end of Terminal 4, an army of reporter and journalist ponies had descended upon LAX, fulfilling the dreaded prophecy the ex-producer had before setting foot outside the bus.
They’re here...
“Slackers,” Spike scoffed. “What took them so long?”
Mrs. Fyre-Flye let the crass remark slide. Her eyes shifted from the reporters, and then out the doorway to the bus parked out front.
Make a break for it or try to sneak out? Choose one, and fast.
“D-do you t-t-think they’re here for u-us? H-how m-m-many of them are there?” Fluttershy asked, stricken with terror.
“I'll count 'em, I'll count 'em!” said Pinkie Pie. She bounced around the group, counting the members of the press out loud. “Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-Oh, wait a minute! I think they see us! Say cheese, everypony!” She proceeded to make all sorts of funny faces towards the photographers, blissfully oblivious that they were now blitzing madly towards them, cameras and microphones at the ready.
“RUN!!!” Mrs. Fyre-Flye screamed, picking up and carrying Pinkie Pie away in a magical grasp. Twilight did the same for Spike, and Rarity with Sweetie Belle. Applejack, Rainbow Dash, and Fluttershy respectively scooped up Applebloom, Scootaloo, and Angel. The princesses flew ahead and cleared the path outside for the others, standing at either side of the front doors until everyone else was aboard. The reporters continued to closing in and were shouting out questions.
“Drive, honey! Step on the gas!” A wheezing Mrs. Fyre-Flye choked out to the driver. The tires spun and screeched until traction was regained, leaving the paparazzi in a cloud of noxious smoke as their quarry pulled away.
9:38 AM PST (T-minus 01:57 hours until departure) Saturday, January 7th, 2012 Los Angeles International Airport, California, U.S.A. Pulling away from Terminal 4 Curbside
“Nyah-nyah, pbbbbt!”
From atop of the cast’s collective pile of cargo luggage, Scootaloo pinched her head between her front hooves and blew a raspberry through the rear exit window at the reporters that literally just ate their dust.
“Better luck next time, cowpokes!” Applebloom wiggled her blank flank at them and kicked up more dirt.
“You know they have cameras, right? If they get a silly enough picture of you two, they might be laughing all the way to the bank,” Sweetie Belle warned, crouching her diminutive body out of sight.
“If that’s all they got from me, then it was worth it,” shrugged the Pegasus filly as she returned to her middle seat on the bench next to Sweetie Belle.
“Totally! Ain’t nothing wrong with us kids having a little fun,” the youngest Apple sibling said while taking up the aisle side again, giving a hoof-bump to Scootaloo.
“Heh, I’d like to hear you sound so confident when those photos come back and you’re all grown up. Wouldn’t that be embarrassing?” Spike smugly posed while looking at them from over his backrest.
“That threat cuts both ways, double-0 shrimp,” Scootaloo countered.
“True, but you forget that I’m a dragon. I’ve still got a long childhood ahead of me,” he patted himself on the chest with the CMCs watching.
“He’s got a point there, girls,” Sweetie Belle conceded, her friends rounding on her at once.
“Whose side are you on anyway?!” Applebloom asked, her southern drawl growing rougher with each syllable.
“Spike, stop picking on them,” Twilight admonished him from the topmost edge of her script notebook. “We all may have succeeded in looking foolish to those guys, the way we stormed out of there like maniacs.”
“Indeed! Were we that pressed for time to shun even one photo-shoot? Now this outfit is marred with perspiration, ick,” Rarity pouted and dabbed a hoof at the moist patches to dry them.
“And what’s wrong with a little sweat? A good workout every now and then will keep you fitting into those swanky getups,” Rainbow Dash playfully rubbed a hoof on Rarity’s shoulder, but the advice was poorly received.
“Just what are you implying about my figure?!” she snarled, whipping her head back to face the brazen delinquent.
“Whoa-nothing, nothing! I didn’t mean it like that!” she urged while holding up her hooves to shield herself from that murderous stare.
“Lucky for me, I get to have all the sweets I want and not have to worry about gaining weight!” Pinkie Pie inputted unhelpfully with a lollipop stick protruding from the corner of her mouth.
“Your dental records, however, are an entirely different matter,” was the white Unicorn's unamused retort to the hyperactive mare, whose attention was seemingly gone as she looked out the window and began to hum.
“That’s cold, Rare, even for me,” Rainbow Dash quietly said, raising an eyebrow.
“Now you done went and gone too far for a simple misunderstanding,” Applejack concurred while glancing over at Pinkie. Rarity realized the abrasiveness of her words, recognizing the hidden pain behind her friend’s actions. Her scowl melted away and ears drooped with regret.
“Oh dear, you’re absolutely right. I shouldn’t have said that, after what she went through during her last checkup. Pinkie Pie, will you accept my-oof!“
“ACCEPTED!” In the blink of an eye, the party girl had zoomed across the aisle and wrapped her forelegs around Rarity, cutting short her apology.
“I’m sorry we didn’t get the photo-op you wanted! How about we take one together? Derpy, please pass me my phone.”
The cross-eyed flier reached her snout in and pulled the smartphone out of the saddlebag. It was thrown to her with a flick of her neck, catching it effortlessly. She pulled Rarity in closer while aiming the camera lens towards them at an overhead angle.
“Ready? Three, two, one, Pika-CHUUU!” Pinkie overdrew as her lips pressed together and outward. When the speakers emitted an artificial camera shutter, she flipped the phone around to see the results and the two instantly started laughing.
“I have got to put this on Twitter! ‘@Rarity and me giving the duckface to reporters! #MLPFiM #LAX #Duckface',” she typed out and submitted. Within seconds, the likes, comments, and referrals started pouring in.
“This way it’ll make them think that we just arrived and going home!”
“Brilliant, darling! Absolutely brilliant! You’ve certainly mastered the art of social media!” Rarity stopped laughing for a moment to wipe her eyes with a wielded magically handkerchief.
“Why should we hog all the fun? Everypony here should sign up for Twitter! I help promote the show and the conventions we attend, so why not?”
“But I wouldn’t even know where to start. Everypony would probably find me too boring to follow online,” Fluttershy said self-deprecatingly.
Angel, fed up with her pessimism, scurried over to Pinkie Pie and waved a paw at her to come closer. When she leaned her head in, the rabbit whispered something into her ear.
“That’s a great idea, little buddy! Angel says we should share an account. We’ll call it @PinkiePie&Fluttershy. It’s just you and me against the world, partner! What do you say?” Pinkie offered a hoof to Fluttershy on the other side.
“Hmm, alright, that sounds much better.” The animal keeper timidly wrapped her own hoof around Pinkie’s to seal the deal.
“Alright! Applejack, why don’t you and Rainbow Dash link accounts too?”
“Why us?” Applejack asked, scratching her head. “We ain’t got anything alike. @TheAppleFamily is only used to share gardening tips and cooking recipes.”
“And I use my account to promote my band Hey Ocean!, which I just tweeted that we’re gunning for a show in Miami sometime next year. What’s little Miss Green Hoof gonna do for me? Write a song about apples and oranges? Before you do, here’s a hint: Nothing rhymes with the second one.”
“Gee, thanks for the advice,” the farmer said sarcastically. “Luckily there’s plenty of flattering words that rhyme with Dash: Crash, smash, rash, and her personal favorite, sla-“
“Oh HAY no!” the athlete roared, twisting her neck and bearing her teeth at Applejack. “One time! One time you caught me being curious on that FimFiction site, and you still drag it up?! NOT COOL!”
Applejack’s eyes widened at Rainbow’s sudden display of rage but held her ground, looking directly into those flaring pink irises and withstanding her deep irritable snorts of breath. She took no pleasure in making the Pegasus angry, especially about such a sensitive topic, but her callousness occasionally needed to be brought to heel. The tomboy finally broke eye contact and responded properly to Pinkie Pie’s earlier proposal.
“Sorry, but as you can see, @RainbowDash&Applejack would never work out. There’d be a new Twitter war each day amongst us.”
“Aw! A feeling I had thought it would work out,” Pinkie said while looking down at the floor.
“Some things just aren’t meant to happen, regardless of how badly you want them,” Twilight Sparkle said, patting her in condolence on the back with a forehoof as she stood in the cabin aisle.
“Yeah, you might be right. Hey, what about you? Don’t you want a Twitter account?”
“Sorry, but I’ll pass. I don’t have time for that kind of stuff.”
“Then you’ll be pleased to know that Luna and I have taken the liberty of setting up one for you and adding the entire cast to your ‘following’ list,” Princess Celestia informed her from the bed at the vehicle’s end.
Princess Luna sitting beside her levitated a tablet out to the purple unicorn, showing her the profile of @TwilightSparkle, which already had 50+ followers.
“But why, Princess? I don’t need this,” Twilight eased the thin computer aside with one hoof to ask her costar.
“Think of it as an extension to the very first task I gave you when the show began: To make friends. Mrs. Fyre-Flye and Hasbro don’t mind small interactions with the fanbase, and you might be pleasantly surprised as you get to know those who identify themselves as bronies.”
She gave her star pupil a wonderfully disarming smile that drew her in. Celestia capitalized on this by leaning down and whispering one final encouraging remark.
“And concerning that Twilicious recording you took from the studio archive? Publishing it on your Twitter page would help you enormously in catching up with the others; just something to consider down the road.”
The Daylight Alicorn winked at Twilight, who was speechless at first for being found out so easily, and then smiling when she understood she had her onscreen mentor’s support. She bowed to the two royal sisters before turning away, intent on returning to her seat and her script.
A wayward glance out the window informed her that they were no longer on airport property. The bus was uncomfortably squeezed into a parking lot meant for personal vehicles. Looking forward into the cabin, the studious unicorn could see her fellow cast members crowding into the aisle, also looking straight ahead. Annoyed when feeling deprived of information, she began to force her way through the pony blockade.
“Ugh, let me through! Mrs. Fyre-Flye? Mr. Stew? -Oh, sorry, Derpy- Why have we stopped? I thought we were going to make a U-turn back to Terminal T-“
Two is exactly what she saw when she got to the front of the pack: The red-maned Alicorn and her husband, sitting in the driver’s seat, were sharing a kiss. Twilight’s cheeks flushed as the small O-shape on her lips trembled. Wishing them privacy, attempts to look away in either direction only allowed her to gauge the others’ reactions.
“Isn’t that romantic? Such is love; always finding us when least expected,” Rarity said in hushed voice with a hoof pressed against her heart.
“So that’s what love is? Helping each other escape droves of reporters?” Spike asked flatly.
“Sure, Spike, ‘least how it goes in Hollywood.” Big Macintosh smirked and shook his head.
“Wow, they must be pretty good kissers to be at it for this long. I wonder which one’s had more practice.” Rainbow Dash elbowed sharply at Fluttershy, whose face was redder than the others and had been watching almost as if in a trance.
“More than you’ve had, because dreams don’t count,” Applejack threw in when Fluttershy only stuttered in response.
“Ack, pul-ease. It’s this little devil who’s gotten cozy with the pillow,” the athletic Pegasus impulsively revealed her bunkmate’s secret, with immediate effect. The timid flier’s face boiled over, steam practically wafting out of her ears. Whimpering, she ducked behind the backrest.
As the couple finally parted lips, a faint whisper between them was picked up by the audience.
“Thanks for always coming through in a pinch, Stewie.”
“Anytime, Lovebug.”
“Srnnk, Stewie? Lovebug? Heheh, how sweet,” Rainbow Dash murmured, chuckling somewhere over Twilight’s shoulder. The main star was about to silence her, but it was too late as the lovers turned their attention on their captive audience.
Mrs. Fyre-Flye’s part-time driver and full-time husband is actually a renowned producer of television and film in his own right. A fellow alumnus of California Institute of the Arts, he created The Powerpuff Girls for the Cartoon Network in 1998, which lasted for six seasons, inspired a major motion picture, and had a grand sendoff on the 10th anniversary of the series. Next in 2004, he developed Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends together with Fyre-Flye, whom he first met while still working on PPG. After five seasons of Foster’s, the network underwent a major programming shift that dissatisfied him, ultimately leading to his resignation. Later this year, he planned to formally announce the production of a new series in 2013 for Disney Channel called Wander Over Yonder, another brainchild of the husband and wife team.
The stallion’s earth pony frame seemed strikingly basic when the Alicorn beside him donned universal traits of every pony species. He had a two-tone coat of black and light brown with the black wrapping around his upper torso and forelegs, mimicking a T-shirt. Large hazel eyes gleamed through a curtaining mane of scruffy walnut-colored hair. The cutie mark on his flanks was the envy of Rainbow Dash herself; A crushed red-labeled can, the top lid cut open and jagged-edged with a murky brown solution leaching out. On the label, in white outlined letters, encompassed by a popping yellow background was the two-part word: WHOOPASS.
Seconds inched by as the two producers and the Friendship is Magic ensemble stared wordlessly at each other. The tension finally cracked as a certain party animal stood on her hind legs in the seat next to Derpy.
“Pinkie Pie, what are you doing?” Whoopee Stew asked incredulously, her bushy mane and tail bouncing as she jerkily reached towards the vehicle’s roof.
“I’m trying to reach the ‘TV-Y’ rating on the upper left corner of the screen. That kind of content deserves ‘TV-G’ instead,” she grunted matter-of-factly.
“But doesn’t that joke only work during filming? This reality doesn’t have a ‘fourth wall’ to break.”
“You’re right, Mr. Stew, I don’t see the rating at all. There’s only one explanation: We’re in a fan-written story based on the show! If so, then I declare the shipping of Fyre-Flye and Whoopee Stew as both my head-canon and OTP!”
“Okay, Pinkie, whatever you say,” the driver nodded on the outside while confused beyond all reason on the inside, as was likely everyone else on board.
That girl spends way too much time on the Internet…almost as much as she consumes sugar. Oh, who am I kidding? She was made not to believe in excess; too much of a good thing is never enough.
“Sorry to have kept you in the dark since our daring escape back there,” Mrs. Fyre-Flye said aloud to the cast. “Seeing a record number of reporters respond to our arrival, Whoopee and I knew it would take a while for them to clear out. Instead of rounding back to Terminal 2 on World Way, we opted to hide out in this parking lot just off West Century. We’ll be cutting the flight close, but the coast should be clear now, thanks in part to Pinkie’s clever diversion on Twitter.”
Pinkie mounted the bench again and saluted her with one foreleg.
“My pleasure, ma’am! Diversion and deception are my specialties,” she replied while sticking her tongue out at the former executive producer, who turned her head away momentarily to laugh.
“Come on, Stewie, let’s get everypony on that plane. Full steam ahead.”
The cast’s outburst of cheers and applause drowned out the driver’s attempt at response, so he let the engine do the talking as he steered the bus back onto the road to LAX.
10:21 AM PST (T-minus 01:14 hours until departure) Saturday, January 7th, 2012 Los Angeles, California, U.S.A. West Century Boulevard - En route to LAX
“Hey, RD, can we see those souvenirs now, or do you plan on taking them all the way to Canada?” Derpy asked, one of her disjointed eyes looking at the blue mare.
“Sure, and thanks for the reminder! I gotta empty this thing so I have room for my winter clothes,” Rainbow said while reaching under her seat and pulling out the metal clamshell rollerbag.
She turned the dials on the triple-digit combination lock, flipped open the secondary clamps and pried the case open on the bench, one side leaning against the backrest.
“I must admire your exceptional taste in hoof luggage; a handsome exterior with a well-cushioned interior,” Rarity mirthfully observed from the opposite bench.
“You like it too, huh? It’s a ZERO Halliburton, just like the ones you see in the movies,” the Pegasus gushed, craning her head over the entire cache of memorabilia.
“It took a pretty heavy beating on the way over from Miami, but everything’s still intact. This baby has already lived up to the brand’s rep!”
“Glad to hear that, considering the price we paid for it. That sleazy sales-pony must’ve hawked you the most expensive one he had,” Applejack muttered.
“I said I’m good for it, Applenezer Scrooge. You’re always penny-pinching. Don’t you ever feel the urge to splurge?”
“Yes, I do. While you went and snatched up every little trinket you could get your hooves on, I took my time looking around, saving my souvenir money for one good thing. Pass that over to me now, gently if you please.”
“Fine, fine,” Rainbow huffed as she pushed smaller objects aside to reveal a large conch shell with a spiny, striped outer edge, and smooth pink-and-white inner chamber. It came with a tri-legged wooden stand. The spectrum-maned Pegaus eyed it jealously before lowering it into the farmer’s waiting hooves. “Here.”
Smiling, Applejack quickly held it up to her ear, the idle flow of air through the hollow chamber instantly taking her back to those sparkling blue waves lapping up her hooves, the overhead rustle of swinging palm trees, and the echoing cry of seagulls. The shell was quaintly labeled with the name “Miami” in black cursive.
‘I got an incoming call from a Ms. Atlantic Ocean. Will you accept?’ the Stetson-crowned mare thought to herself, nodding.
“No fair. I’m the musician; I need inspiration! Can’t we share?” Rainbow asked pleadingly.
“I’ll consider it. What do you plan on offering me in return? How about that necklace?”
“What? No way! That’s my favorite one!” She yelled while jealously retracting the small jewelry box towards her chest. She gently opened the sapphire box, grinning at the precious object within that greeted her.
“Hey, Rarity, you mind helping me put this on?”
“Certainly, my dear,” Rarity got out her seat and walked over to her.
The box jittered as Rarity’s magical aura assumed control. The top lid came completely off, and out floated a sterling silver tortoise pendant, its shell embedded with onyx stones. The hair-thin chain snaked its way around the tomboy’s neck until the hook and loop were conjoined. The aura’s intensity faded until it was gone and the pendant hung freely from Rainbow Dash’s neck.
‘I like turtles,’ she proclaimed rather immaturely in her head referencing both the Internet meme, and her new pet, Tank.
“That’s fair enough, but I ain’t interested in any of the other stuff you bought,” Applejack stated, implying that the trade was still on.
“No thanks, I’ve changed my mind. I’ll take quantity over quality any day,” Rainbow said as she returned to her seat and continued digging through the rollerbag to find the rest of her goodies.
She pulled out a navy blue coffee mug with the Bayside Marketplace logo wrapped around it, and a cardboard tube that held a panoramic poster of downtown Miami’s nocturnal skyline.
“Aww yeah, you are SO going up on my wall when I get back home!” she proudly declared after unraveling and admiring it once more.
“Fluttershy and I want our souvies too! C’mon, Dashie, don’t be greedy!” Pinkie Pie climbed over rows of seats until she was behind Rainbow’s. She leaned her torso over the backrest and started digging through the suitcase.
“No it’s fine. She can take her time,” The yellow Pegasus said quickly, tentatively peeking her head over the bench in front.
“But I wanna show everypony the beautiful scarf you bought at that mansion! What’s it called again? Vizzy? Vizcayu?”
“Vizcaya Museum and Gardens,” Fluttershy corrected. “And maybe now’s not such a good time to-“
As Pinkie began to rise from over the bench, a large square gift box lid sailed over her shoulder, and suddenly the animal keeper’s view was stolen by a veil flown before her eyes. Hand-woven Italian silk depicted golden seahorses dancing serenely in an ocean current of intertwining baby blue and yellow accents. The daytime dream vanished instantly as it had materialized, but in denying sight, Fluttershy gasped to her over-reactant sense of touch as the cloth wisped around her neck until snug.
“Where we’re going is as far from Florida as anypony can imagine. Its wintertime and we need to wrap you up,” Pinkie Pie said, self-amused at her wordplay on an episode title and song from Season 1.
Fluttershy, always appreciative of the jokester’s hospitality, reached out with both front hooves and hugged her deeply. Pulling back, her teal eyes were swimming in happy tears.
“Thank you. Yes, I do love it. Are you sure you’re happy with your gifts?”
“Yeah I’m sure! I got this rocking music CD and a picture book of the whole museum to enjoy together,” Pinkie said as she procured the aforementioned items in one hoof, and a portable CD player and headphones in the other.
“Oh and here’s the box of tea you bought.”
She turned her body to face down the aisle, revealing a white-labeled tin box with a thin blue sealing ribbon running vertically over it, balancing on her back. Like the scarf, this blend of tea leaves was tailor-made for the Vizcaya museum and unavailable elsewhere. Fluttershy graciously accepted it, partaking of the aroma that permeated through the container.
The eccentric earth pony then took a seat right next to her, hurriedly propped the picture book in her lap, opened the CD case, set the disc into the player and affixed the ear-buds on. Rainbow Dash took this opportunity to reach over and extract the case’s mini booklet.
“The Music of Vizcaya: Selections from the Museum’s Historic Organ Rolls,” she read aloud, looking over and perplexed at Pinkie Pie thumping her head up and down ceaselessly as though she was listening to a heavy metal CD.
‘Some brainiac really oughtta study her. Never mind; Twilight did, and couldn’t crack the Da Pinkie code. She’ll always be one of ponykind’s greatest mysteries, and that’s the way we all like her,’ the athletic Pegasus justly concluded.
“Miss Dash? Big sist-, erm, I mean Princess Celestia humbly requests her collection of sentimental artifacts of that glorious southern land whence you came,” Princess Luna said officially as she stood facing her in the cabin aisle.
“Huh-buh? Oh, you mean Celestia’s Miami souvenirs? Sure, one second. Let’s get that big one out first.”
Rainbow gripped the corner of a large frame with her teeth. With some exertion, a black picture frame that occupied the suitcase’s inner dimensions arose. Encased within, shielded by glass, was a rectangular vertical canvas.
A cloudless blue sky promptly gave way to weathered yet preserved art deco hotels and shops colored vibrantly to endure the constant sun exposure. Palm trees and bushes lined the entire street. An antique automobile was parked against the canvas’ left side, while the remaining bottom right corner was dominated by an orange-ringed umbrella and the female form of an unknown species in vintage beachwear, sitting on a towel in the sand, her head turned down towards the street. A woven palm bag behind her had the words “Miami Beach” emblazoned upon it.
“What a magnificent piece! Where did she get this?” The Midnight Alicorn asked.
“We stumbled upon an art gallery right on Ocean Drive having a closeout sale. I never knew the Princess had it in her, but she haggled the shopkeeper down to less than half of the asking price!”
She flicked her eyes over to Applejack, anticipating another smart remark about money, but the orange earth pony was still admiring her seashell to have caught it.
“The four of us could learn a thing or two about souvenir shopping from her; she got a lot of good stuff for the money, like this scented candle of Mango and- dang! What’s that other fruit pronounced again?”
“Guava!” Pinkie Pie yelled as she tore off the ear-buds, inexplicably able to hear her despite having the CD music on at full blast. “Say it with me: Gh-why ya-vah! I’m craving one of those pastelitos so bad right now that I might take a bite out of that candle.”
Staring longingly at the glass jar in its cardboard casing, she took a deep breath of the tantalizing smell before sadly returning to her seat.
Moving forward from the sudden interruption, Princess Luna took possession of the painting, a “Brahm’s Lullaby” music box, a small bottle of Miami Beach sand, a Florida-themed towel, and the guava/ mango candle, thanking Rainbow Dash before rejoining her sister on the bed.
The rest of the souvenir handout was mostly uneventful. It wasn’t until the blue daredevil was trying to close her suitcase, now full of clothes and toiletries, when Twilight Sparkle approached, wearing a thin necklace with a tiny Miami-branded palm tree ornament.
“Allow me,” she offered. A purple sparkling aura snapped the suitcase shut, and lowered it back underneath the bench.
“Thanks a lot, Twilight. It took me forever to decide which of those necklaces I wanted most. Miami looks pretty good on you.”
She gave the studious unicorn her trademark grin that soon faltered when she continued to stare purposefully.
“The colt you met at BronyCon. Who was he?” Twilight asked her again.
“Oh, him,” Rainbow remembered. “The convention was being held at the Hotel Pennsylvania in Manhattan. I’m told 850 ponies attended, I mean it was jam-packed!”
She went on to describe a short-maned earth pony wearing expensive glasses, a dark brown shirt and business suit jacket, walking towards each actor’s autograph booth, shaking hooves and greeting them formally by name.
“He started with the usual stuff about how much he liked the show, but then he said he wanted to share the magic of his hometown and handed personalized gift bags to us.”
“What were in them?” Applebloom pressed on.
“We had too many ponies waiting to look right away,” Applejack stepped in to continue. “He got the autographs he paid for, but claimed they weren’t meant for him, instead for two of his friends in Tennessee who couldn’t make it to the convention. ‘Pyro’ and ‘Masta’ were their names, but he didn’t give his own. I did see his cutie mark as he left: A shattered clock face with glass pieces and numbers jumping out.”
“Pretty keen observation there, pal. Was that all you were looking at?” Rainbow Dash bounced her eyebrows at Applejack, aghast at the insinuation.
“No- I mean yes! Yes that was it!” she growled while tucking her Stetson downward to conceal her face.
================================================================================ Time froze still as Pinkie Pie gave the writer a vicious glare through the screen.
‘This is your first and only warning, Festo: Keep it clean or I’m changing the rating!’
Her mental threat somehow materialized onto the word processor so that that I could read it. Nodding apologetically, I moved on with the story. ================================================================================
“When we finally had a break in the green room, we looked inside the bags and found an orange, wrapped in a bright red ribbon and topped with a bow, like a gift-” Fluttershy provided a partial answer as to the bags’ contents before being interrupted.
“And it was so delicious! Why only one for everypony? I would’ve accepted a whole bunch!” Pinkie Pie complained rather predictably.
“Orange Bow?” Spike said, tilting his head in confusion.
“The real present was inside the sealed envelope: An American Airlines flight voucher to Miami from anywhere in the U.S., redeemable within a month of receipt,” Princess Celestia said, her voice carrying over clearly from the back.
“Did you meet him again there?” her younger sister Luna asked of her.
“He left us no contact information for a rendezvous. The gift bags were printed with names of the city’s landmarks he thought we would like, and he was right for the most part.”
“I wonder if he wants to meet the rest of us someday. He sounds pretty amazing, even for a brony,” the faithful student professed in admiration.
“I wouldn’t doubt it, Twilight,” Mrs. Fyre-Flye said, smiling. “I hate to interrupt, but we’ve been at curbside for a couple of minutes, and a cruiser’s bound to come by and shoo us away again.”
“Of course! C’mon everypony, last one through security buys the fries, and as fair warning, I like mine with extra cheese!” Twilight teased and followed Mrs. Fyre-Flye out the front doors.
10:42 AM PST (T-minus 00:53 hours until departure) Saturday, January 7th, 2012 Los Angeles International Airport, California, U.S.A. Terminal 2 Curbside (Air Canada)
“I’m sticking with them until they’re past the checkpoint. I can catch a taxi back home if you’re tired of waiting,” Mrs. Fyre-Flye said to her husband.
“They’ll eat you alive at these gas prices,” Mr. Stew shook his head up at her. “Parking’s cheaper. Just give me a ring when you’re done.”
“Thanks again, Stewie. At least you’ve got a fallback career if Wander clinches your retirement.”
“Who says I’m retired?”
The two producers shared another kiss before the earth pony climbed back on board the bus and closed the doors.
Uniformed baggage handlers idling nearby rushed over at Mrs. Fyre-Flye’s beckoning, yanking the rear emergency door open. Working together in a chain of hooves and magical strength, the cargo luggage was loaded onto a service cart. With the pathway clear, Princess Celestia nimbly stepped out of the doorway while Luna flew around and shut the door, rapping a hoof twice upon it to let the driver know he was good to go.
“Thank you, gentlemen,” The Princess of the Sun said to them with a bow before rejoining the others. The workers were left speechless by the actor’s beauty and show of respect. Their supervisor was not as understanding and snapped at them to get the cart inside.
The Economy Class line was minimally occupied. Between six available self-service kiosks, everyone was checked-in and holding boarding passes within minutes. Twilight scrutinized the details on hers closely, as she always did for a business trip.
Looking up from the parchment, she spotted Mrs. Fyre-Flye shaking hooves and speaking with a mare lurking behind some flight information monitors, wearing sunglasses and a trench coat, a graying mane indicative of advanced age.
‘Who’s that?’ she asked herself.
“Found any out of place inkblots yet?” Get any closer to that ticket and your books will get jealous.”
Twilight whipped an angry face at the tittering trio of Rainbow Dash, Scootaloo, and Pinkie Pie.
“That’s rich, coming from a stubbornly single pony like you!” she shot back.
“Eh, I don’t look at it as single,” the prankster shrugged. “More like free. I’m having way too much fun right now to worry about a boyfriend. If Mr. Right thinks he can catch me, then I’d love to see him try!”
“Everypony knows the quickest way to a mare’s heart is through her stomach!” Pinkie Pie cried while rubbing her belly with her hooves.
“I don’t think that’s the way the saying goes,” Scootaloo said.
“Look, Twilight, the point is that it’s the GUY who has to put in the work! Mares don’t chase after colts; that’s below us!”
“I think Rarity’s romanticisms are rubbing off on you.”
“You say it like it’s a bad thing!” Rainbow scoffed, and then froze in place as her ears perked attentively.
“Wait. I heard something; something familiar.”
“What is it?” Scootaloo asked.
“A finger snap, and a high-pitched ring-”
The tomboy stalked intently for something in the crowd down the hallway while Twilight, Pinkie, and Scootaloo followed. Her behavior was earning very suspicious looks from other passengers. Her head shot up with a gasp as she encountered another clue.
“What did you hear now?” the party animal questioned.
“No, a scent, two of them, and the only time I’ve ever smelled them together is-”
Rainbow Dash abruptly kicked up from the floor and soared fast through the terminal.
“Wait, Dashie! Come back!”
“Something’s wrong! Everypony after her!” Twilight yelled, galloping directly into the crowd that eagerly cleared a path for the crazy ponies. Mrs. Fyre-Flye and her mysterious contact took notice and joined in the pursuit.
‘I’ve got you this time! You should never drop your guard around me!’ the blue daredevil thought savagely, flapping her wings ever harder.
Straight ahead, towering over the other ponies with his back towards her was the object of her bloodlust. The target turned towards her, his eyebrows leaping over his sunglasses and dropping the newspaper he was reading.
‘That’s right, it’s too late to run OR hide, you old coot! I’m gonna be all over you any second!’
He snapped the scaly, claw-tipped fingers of his left hand, and in a brilliant flash of light, turned himself into stone with his arms thrown out, his slim body twisted and wearing an expression of horror.
“What the hay- NOOOOOOO!!!” The Pegasus screamed as she tried to veer away from the immobilized target, but was too close to fight her own inertia. Clenching her eyes shut was all she could do until the impact.
*SQUEE*
The “statue” ripped apart in a torrent of feathers and stuffing that cushioned the brash Pegasus all the way to the floor. Aside from her pounding head caused by increased blood flow, she was uninjured. She rose to her feet and used her wings to sweep her back and sides clean of any foreign material.
“Really now, Rainbow Dash, is aerial tackling any proper way for a mare to behave?” an older man’s voice coughed from somewhere below. Looking down, she saw the Draconequss’ stony, disembodied head hacking out a ball of cotton lodged in his throat.
“GAH!” the spectrum-maned girl shrieked and leaped away.
“There, that’s more like it,” he grinned.
“Rainbow Dash, are you alright?” Mrs. Fyre-Flye called out as she swept in on her own wings, scattering stuffing everywhere. She landed and kneeled in to check on her.
“DASHIEEE!!!” a sobbing Pinkie Pie slid across the feather-coated floor on her knees, colliding into and hugging her friend.
“You really scared me back there, you meanie! Don’t ever do that again!” she sobbed into her shoulder.
“Ditto!” Scootaloo yelled, sniffling but holding her tears at bay.
“What could’ a possibly set her off like that? Rainbow’s crazy, but that wasn’t like anything I’ve seen before,” Applejack pondered.
“At first she said it was a familiar sound, which I didn’t hear,” Twilight recalled. “Then two smells that she only experienced together when- The trail went cold when she bolted.”
“On the contrary, Sherclop Pones; the final clue is literally right under your nose,” the man’s voice chortled. Taking the hint, she titled her face below to a delightful, if unexpected reunion.
“Oh my gosh, Discord! How are you? It’s great to see you!”
“Likewise, Twilight, although I can’t say I’m making much headway since bumping into your rambunctious costar. How are things up there in the canopy?” he doubly quipped, getting laughs from most of the cast.
“Ah, my dear Princess Celestia,” he recognized and greeted from pack. “It’s no longer an exaggeration when I say your beauty makes me to fall to pieces. Just give me a moment to gather my thoughts, and my legs.”
Discord’s monochromatic head rose from the floor and was met by other portions of his shredded plush body. All the discarded feathers and stuffing rushed forth and enveloped him. With another flash of light, he conjured up his true form.
Faithful to his role as the villainous spirit of Chaos and Disharmony of Season 2’s pilot, his body parts was comprised of an asymmetrical variety of creatures that inhabited Equestria. His gray peanut-shaped skull had large yellow eyes with red irises, curving pointy-ended ears, two different horns, white overgrown eyebrows and beard with a cruel-looking fang protruding from his mouth. Following the gray-coated and black-maned neck to his brown-furred torso, the first wing on his back was blue and feathery, and the other purple and spindly. His left hand was a dexterous eagle claw, a dire contrast to his right one, a powerful lion’s paw. Further down the patchwork nature of the beast was a green dragon-based right leg and a hoof-tipped buffalo one as his left. At the end was a red-scaled and fin-lined serpent tail with bristly clump of hair at its tip.
Much-beloved by the fandom for his brief, yet pivotal moment of corrupting the “Mane Six” and turning them against each other, he was eventually defeated when Twilight relearned the magic of friendship through her own letters to Princess Celestia, restored her friends’ memories, and using the Elements of Harmony to turn the Chaos Lord to stone.
“Ahhh!” he sighed as he stretched out his back and his limbs, cracking loudly in several places from the effort. “Nothing like a good dismemberment to loosen up the joints,” he said casually before posing chivalrously before the Daylight Alicorn, holding his paw out to her. She raised a forehoof into his palm, to which he lowered his head and gave it a tender kiss.
“Why you enigmatic old fraud,” Celestia mocked lightly while turning her blushing face away. “You’re even wearing my favorite cologne today, and somepony else’s apparently.”
This quickly became evident as he was pounced on by Pinkie Pie and Derpy together, wrapping their front legs easily around him.
“Oof! Ha ha ha, yes, quite so!” he shouted merrily and returning their hugs with each arm. “It’s my own blend called Eau de Chocolat et Barbe à Papa!”
On cue, a class of chocolate milk and a paper cone topped with cotton candy poofed into existence. He lowered both girls back on the floor and let them have their treats.
“Oui, monsieur! Votre français est très bon!” Rarity applauded.
“I can only hope so by now, Rarity,” He returned in English a tad nervously.
“Where’re you headed? Europe?” Applejack guessed.
“Montreal, Quebec. I’m needed back at the studio for another recording session on a highly anticipated video game set to release later this year.”
“Sweet! What’s it called?” Spike leaned up at him, trying to keep his hat on.
“All in good time, my boy. Even moi, a master of chaos, cowers before the omnipotent NDA! Besides it’ll probably be rated well above your age group like the prior installment.” Discord affirmed with paw and claw folded in front of him.
“Hasn’t stopped me before, you know!” he admitted none too wisely within earshot of Twilight Sparkle.
“Now I do!” she retorted disapprovingly. Spike groaned as the every-limbed beast’s lip and eyebrow curved upward at him.
“Angel tells me your flight is Air Canada #798, leaving 20 minutes after ours. I was afraid we might cause you to miss your flight, but it seems you still have some spare time,” Fluttershy added in.
“Good to know,” Rainbow Dash broke in as she stepped out of Mrs. Fyre-Flye’s shadow. “I could’ve sworn I had the drop on you just now. How’d you sense me coming?”
“Alas, my headstrong friend, you of all ponies should know that achieving subsonic flight is neither easy nor subtle.”
“Tip-toeing didn’t work before. It doesn’t matter if I never find out your secret, because one day you’ll be mine!” she asserted with an evil smile.
“But you just said that mares don’t go after colts,” Scootaloo recalled innocently.
“That’s right, she did! Maybe somepony else has a secret they won’t share,” Twilight hinted at with relish.
Rainbow sensed she was about to taste her own medicine and reflexively tried to hold back the tide.
“What? N-no! No, it’s not like that! I’m just trying to settle the score to a rivalry we had during filming of The Return of Harmony! You remember, right, Discord?” she asked, turning desperately to him for backup. The Draconequss conversely played along by holding his head in his palms with a coy smile.
“I…I’m flattered beyond words that is what all these shenanigans were about! You have some very interesting ways of expressing your affection,” he said, fluttering his eyes at her.
Red-faced and humiliated, the prankster’s legs gave out as she sunk into the floor, concealing her face with her forehooves. His mission accomplished, the Chaos Lord retrieved his nearly-forgotten copy of The Los Angeles Times, snapped the spine straight and folded it under his eagle arm.
“Pardon me, for I have some last-minute arrangements to make with my hotel. I do so look forward to our next encounter.” As he turned to leave, two of the Cutie Mark Crusaders scampered in and grabbed his dragon and buffalo legs, weighing him down in place.
“Won’t you ever join us again on the show?” Applejack pleaded more through her “puppy dog” eyes than her voice.
“We’d love to have him back, Mrs. Fyre-Flye! Just think of the ratings!” Sweetie Belle suggested brightly.
As Discord leaned down to caress the top of their heads, he glanced helplessly at the show’s creator, unwilling to break the poor fillies’ hearts.
“Sorry girls, but that’s out of both our hooves; I’m no longer in charge. It’s all up to the writers and current showrunner to make that feasible.” The red-maned Alicorn delivered sadly. The young carpenter and vocalist reluctantly set their hostage free.
“Then we’ll just have to pester the hay out of them until they do, right Crusaders?” Scootaloo attempted to rally her compatriots. “Because the one thing our team does best is-”
“Annoy everyone to their wit’s end?“ Spike discreetly volunteered in the orange filly’s dramatic pause.
“Make the impossible come true!” she finished, with Applebloom and Sweetie Belle cheering in agreement.
Discord and Friendship is Magic’s remaining cast were walking away upon bidding their last goodbyes when Rainbow Dash soared up to him again and whispered something in his ear. Intrigued, he twisted his head around, narrowing his sight on Scootaloo and blinked. With a dual twinkle of his eyes, he fulfilled the glowering mare’s request and walked out onto the curbside.
Directly ahead of this final stretch of hallway was the starting queue and staircase ascending to the passenger screening checkpoint. The last set of flight information screens to their right yielded the status of the aircraft.
“Good, still on time. Twilight, the checklist, please,” Mrs. Fyre-Flye requested.
“Yes, ma’am,” the faithful student magically willed a clipboard and pen into being. The ex-producer took possession while the cast members customarily formed a single line against the wall to initiate the last roll call.
“’Mane Seven’ – Twilight Sparkle?”
“Here!”
“Spike?”
“Here!”
“Fluttershy?”
“H-here!”
“Pinkie Pie?”
“Aqui!”
“Rarity?”
“Ici!”
“Applejack?”
“Here!”
“Rainbow D-huh? Where is she- Rainbow Dash, get over here!” The legacy showrunner stamped a hoof into the ground.
“Here I am, hold your horses!” The spectrum-maned Pegasus blasted as she caught up to them and fell into line. With a stern look at the brash delinquent, she moved on.
“Cutie Mark Crusaders – Applebloom?”
“Here!”
“Sweetie Belle?
“Here!”
“Scootaloo?”
“HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK!!!”
The orange filly opened her mouth and emitted an earth-shaking foghorn, forcing everyone in the vicinity to double down and cover their ears. Terrified at what was happening, Scootaloo snapped her jaws shut. The blast of air had whipped the Alicorn’s red mane into a frenzy, loose strands poking out everywhere.
“What in the world was that?” a dumbstruck Mrs. Fyre-Flye asked, and quickly regretted it when the young Pegasus’ threw up her front hooves and vocalized an automobile accident; a symphony of buckling metal, shattering glass, and a dislodged tire thumping away loudly as if on her very eardrums. The ex-Producer snapped her head back to look out the windows, but traffic was crawling by at its usual pace without interruption.
There wasn’t a cloud in sight either, but she heard a terrible thunderstorm brewing nonetheless. The phenomenon originated from the girl that was on the verge of tears, with the first invisible raindrops pattering on the ground.
“Don’t cry, Scootaloo! It’ll be okay!” Applejack tried to console her.
“What’s happened to her, Rarity?” Sweetie Belle instinctively turned to her older sibling.
Princess Luna however stepped forth and lowered her horn until it connected both of their foreheads. A sparkling blue aura channeled through it as she closed her eyes and concentrated.
“This affliction was caused by magic that is too strong for any of us to break,” the Midnight Alicorn identified.
“Discord casted the jinx, as you might have guessed,” an unfamiliar female voice declared. “But the idea to give the kid a ‘big mouth’ wasn’t his, but Rainbow Dash’s.”
The Friendship is Magic cast turned to face the trench-coated mare Twilight noticed slinking around Air Canada’s check-in desk and speaking to Mrs. Fyre-Flye.
“And just who asked for your opinion, weirdo?!” The tomboy aggressively challenged the newcomer.
“Rainbow, shhh! Don’t be rude!” The former executive producer urged.
“The U.S. District Court for SoCal and the AD of the Los Angeles field office for starters,” she replied calmly.
“The court? Oh no, don’t tell me you’re-“
The mare fumbled a bit with the top button of her coat before getting it open. She reached into a pocket from the inner lining and procured a leather wallet with a gold badge and blue credentials encased inside.
“Tipped Scales, FBI airport liaison,” the veteran special agent introduced herself.
“I already met my probation officer for the last time, so why am I still checking in with you guys?” Rainbow exasperated, throwing up her front legs in frustration.
“As my predecessor has explained before, you’re under my supervision until you board the plane for your work; our jurisdiction ends when you leave U.S. airspace. And in the court’s eyes, your probation doesn’t officially end until midnight Pacific Time.”
“Luckily one’s bound to happen sooner than the other,” the tomboy remarked under her breath.
“I pulled your Draconequss friend aside for a chat after your last exchange. He says you wanted the jinx to last an hour, but made it so that it wears off in 5 minutes,” Airport Liaison Scales said before walking over to the Cutie Mark Crusaders and standing before the middle one.
“Hi. ‘Scootaloo’, was it?”
The orange filly nodded apprehensively.
“Take a look at my watch,” the trench-coated mare held out her right foreleg with the analogue timekeeping device strapped to it. “Rainbow asked for that jinx at approximately 10:47. Can you tell me what time it is now?”
“10:52 and 11 seconds,” she answered without thinking, gasping to hear her own response. “My voice, it’s back to normal!”
The trio of fillies rejoiced, drawing a smile from Scales herself.
“There, see? He loves stirring up chaos, but even he knows better than to overdo it at an airport. Now, Rainbow Dash, come over here and apologize to this child for your misdeeds,” she commanded while looking at her over her shoulder.
“B-but you don’t know the whole story of what she put me through!” the Pegasus exclaimed.
“Yes, I do; Discord told me. She couldn’t have possibly meant for that to happen. If you won’t apologize, then I’ll be forced to recommend that the judge extends your probation. My neck is already on the line to resolve service interruptions your racket caused.”
“Okay, okay, you win!” She took a wing-assisted jump over to Scootaloo and Special Agent Scales. Rainbow took a deep breath and sighed explosively as if asked to do the world’s most impossible task.
“Sorry, squirt- er, Scootaloo. Guess I showed everypony who’s more immature, right?”
“It’s okay, Rainbow Dash. Let’s just put this whole thing behind us,” the younger tomboy said with an unsettlingly wide grin.
“You mean it? Aw, thanks a lot, kiddo! You’re number one in my book!”
If only Discord’s jinx had lasted a little longer, for it might have disclosed a new sound that was playing continuously in the orange filly’s head; the sound of an axe being sharpened on a grinding wheel.
“Excuse me, Ms. FBI lady?” Derpy tentatively raised a hoof out of the pack. “So does this mean Rainbow’s no longer in any trouble?”
She understood that most ponies were surprised by her crossed eyes when they first meet, and the trench-coated mare was no exception.
“Call me Ms. Scales,” she began. “And yes, everything will be fine, so long as your friend promises to behave herself for the rest of our time together.”
“Thank goodness. This is my first time flying with the main cast, so I don’t really know what’s happened before. Why is Rainbow Dash on probation? What did she do?”
The gray-maned agent turned to the blue daredevil, who coldly turned away to face the wall, so the former executive producer took it upon herself to explain everything.
“Allow me, Derpy. The incident happened exactly one year ago.”
When I was still at the show’s helm; ironic that life seemed so much simpler then than it does now.
2:36 PM PST (T-minus 00:34 hours until departure) Friday, January 7th, 2011 Los Angeles International Airport, California, U.S.A. Terminal 2 Curbside (Air Canada)
The United States’ 3rd largest airport by passenger volume was beginning to wind down from its prime business hours when an antiquated privately owned bus hurried up the roadway to the “Departures” level. After one of the most excruciating Southland drives in recent memory, Whoopee Stew brought the vehicle to a stop at Terminal 2 curbside.
Pulling his hooves off the steering wheel, he leaned back in his chair and sighed, but the sound of crumpling paper below him elicited an irritated scoff. He recovered the California state citation that was wedged between his rump and the seat. His first ticket of the New Year, it was issued after getting caught speeding down the San Diego freeway.
‘Exceeding the speed limit down the 405’s about as probable as a smog-less forecast,’ he cynically thought, flicking the official paper over the dashboard to roast in the sun for a week before paying.
“Stewie, the doors please,” requested Executive Producer Fyre-Flye as she walked up the aisle to him.
“Right,” he complied, grabbing the lever to his right and pulled the front doors open.
His Alicorn wife was as stunning as ever, but hidden lines of stress were tensing her every feature, action, and word, akin to a puppet. The workload of a showrunner would be overwhelming to anyone the first time around. Even after two shows, there were things about the pipeline Mr. Stew struggled to comprehend, let alone master.
He’d be happy to offer some advice, but only if she asked. The night they celebrated Hasbro giving the green light to Friendship is Magic, she made it abundantly clear that this was her own project.
Mrs. Fyre-Flye stepped out onto the concrete platform, her eyes drawn instantly to the bus’s livery to her right; swirling patterns of pink, blue, and orange with the Foster’s moniker printed in a large curling white font along the side. The rear emergency exit door bore the circular logo of the show that concluded over one year ago, thus still fresh in the minds of fans. In fact, the producer spotted a couple ponies from the crowd pointing and taking pictures of the bus.
We started driving ourselves when shuttle rates to LAX hiked. The travel budget’s tight, allowing only afternoon flights that are delay-prone. I’ll leverage better conditions for next season. In the meantime, this bus could use some serious modifications for more room and less outside attention.
Having aspirations were good, but with a single glance at her pocket watch, exactly when she’d have the time to act on them was anyone’s guess.
“Hurry and grab your things, girls! They’ll start boarding any minute now!” she said loudly into the cabin doorway, then directing baggage handlers towards the emergency exit. The cast lined up in the aisle, stepping outside one at a time and into the terminal.
“That’s not fair; calling us all ‘girls’ like that. She knows that there’s me, Big Mac, and a few of the Royal Guards!” Spike complained while slinging a backpack over his left shoulder.
“Settle down, Spike. You know she don’t mean nothing by it. We‘re just outnumbered,” Big Macintosh said unbothered.
“Well, big brother, if it’ll make y’all feel better, we can go ahead and throw RD into your camp!” Applejack teased.
“Oh ha, ha, HA! Nice one, rodeo clown! Plenty of room in the club for another tomboy! You’d fit right in!” blasted Rainbow Dash.
“Now just wait a minute! I think y’all are forgetting Angel! He’s a boy, and he deserves to be counted! Applebloom declared.
The white rabbit atop of Fluttershy’s back squeaked in approval as the automatic doors slid open for them to enter.
“It’s too bad that Sweetie Belle, Scootaloo, or Princess Luna couldn’t join us,” the timid Pegasus lamented. “The Cutie Mark Crusaders were formally introduced in this morning’s episode: Call of the Cutie.”
“I know, but Mrs. Fyre-Flye said we couldn’t afford it. That episode was Sweetie’s time to shine. She should get to meet her adoring fans!” Rarity decried with a clenched hoof in the air.
“What fans? I haven’t seen anypony ask for my autograph yet,” Twilight said absently, taking the lead at Air Canada’s check-in line while still nose-deep into her script.
WARNING: The content of this document represents the confidential works of Hasbro Incorporated, and is protected by international copyright laws. Unauthorized possession, alteration, and duplication of this work can, and will be prosecuted to the maximum extent of the law. You are required to have signed and agreed to applicable NDA protocols upon receipt of this document.
“You don’t say,” Spike said, holding his palms up to his face and blindly walking forward to a ticket kiosk, getting a laugh out of several cast members.
“At least we were able to watch it together! You and the other fillies were terrific, Applebloom!” Pinkie Pie praised heartily.
“Thank you kindly, Ms. Pinkamena. I just wish we could’ve done the ‘Cupcakes’ duet as written in the script,” the youngest apple sibling sadly recounted.
“Aw, buck up. You’ll get another chance soon. And call me Pinkie; all of my friends can!”
Once more alongside the checked baggage, Princess Celestia and her royal guard escort brought up the rear. The stallions clasped in gilded body armor and helmets were two white Pegasi and two gray unicorns, their respective blue and gold eyes furrowed and actively scanning everything within their environment.
They reorganized from a box formation into a crescent as their protectee obtained her boarding pass from one of the machines. The silent concentration and professionalism they displayed was something to admire.
“Man, what a bunch of stiffs. I wonder what they do for fun,” Rainbow Dash wisecracked with earnest curiosity. “I bet they throw some wild parties, eh ‘most faithful student’?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Twilight plainly as she slipped her boarding pass into a saddlebag before continuing.
“You’re always sizing up ponies by way they look, when they could all be poetry lovers just like-“
She gasped and froze mid-step, her mind catching up to her mouth with the dawning fact she just played right into Rainbow’s hooves. One dreadful look over her shoulder confirmed as much.
“Just like who now? Please, do tell. C’mon, look at this honest face: I can keep a secret,” the spectrum-maned Pegasus grinned.
Hesitant to speak, she watched powerlessly watch as the equine monarch and her security detail walked past, leaving Twilight and Rainbow as the last two stragglers in the hallway.
“You’re supposed to represent the element of Loyalty; Applejack is Honesty,” the studious unicorn reminded her as she started forward again, trying to catch up with the others now gathered by the checkpoint entrance.
“Hey, that’s even better, right?” the athletic Pegasus’ voice floated into her ear. “Spill the colt’s name already!”
“The answer is no, now stop it, we’re late!” she shouted as she broke into a full gallop.
The blue daredevil was faster and rounded directly into Twilight’s path, who stumbled to a halt, her shock was compounded by how positively irked she looked.
“Let’s get one thing straight here! ‘No’ is not in my vocabulary! Respect that, and I won’t go Fahrenheit 451 on your starry butt!” Rainbow Dash yelled harshly with a menacing step forward.
The main star sat on her haunches, heart beating rapidly, leaning away from her aggressive costar, maintaining eye contact for several long seconds until the tomboy was unexpectedly yanked back by the tail. Applejack appeared from behind, spitting out the multi-colored hair, whose owner lividly turned towards her.
“Twilight, pass me your dictionary and I’ll teach this bully a couple more words she needs, like humble and punctual! Everypony knows you overslept, and that it’s your fault we’re running late!” the Stetson-crowned mare accused.
Episode 13, Fall Weather Friends, centralizes on the quarreling that Applejack and Rainbow Dash partake on a regular basis. The desire to prove athletic superiority will drive a stake in their friendship when competitiveness urges them to win at any cost.
Both the farmer and prankster were mandated to train hard for their most physically demanding performance yet. But Rainbow overexerted herself the evening before the flight and slept in, making the entire cast leave the house extraordinary late.
Whoopee Stew tried to make up for lost time by going full throttle on the freeway, only to be pulled over by the California Highway Patrol a half-mile down. The traffic had invariably built up again by the time the officer cut them loose, so they crawled to the nearest exit and cut through city streets to reach LAX with barely the slightest chance of making their flight.
“So what, Farmer Jane? I take my exercise a little more seriously than you do, and that extra bit means I’ll pass the finish line before you during the ‘Running of the Leaves’ marathon!”
“The script says we’re supposed to get into a tussle and pass it together in last place!”
“Me and Keater are great friends! She’s bound to change that ending for me!”
“Girls, maybe we shouldn’t discuss the story material in public,” was Twilight’s attempt to quell the hostilities, but it went completely unnoticed.
“You’ve been getting a little too big for your britches lately, you know that?!”
"Better that than my waistline, pudgy!” Rainbow Dash snapped and poked a hoof in Applejack’s side, a fair layer of body fat yielded easily to the force.
“Why, you ungrateful- It’s thanks to my farming AND cooking that keeps you energized for your workouts! IF YOU DON’T LIKE IT, THEN PAY FOR YOUR OWN MENU!!!” Applejack screamed in ever-rising tones.
“Twilight, you’ve got to come to the checkpoint right away! We’ve got a big problem!” Spike said as he slipped in through the circle of bystanders watching the argument. His eyes went fearfully wide when a red-faced and crying Applejack turned to face him.
“What happened? Are you okay?” he asked, raising a scaly hand to wipe away the tears, but the farmer instead leaned her head in to rest against the open palm, feeling the heat of the recent argument.
“Thanks, Spike, but it’s all over now,” she assured as she cleared her own face with her right forehoof. “Let’s just get to that checkpoint.”
She picked up Spike on her back and looked over her shoulder at Twilight Sparkle and Rainbow Dash, who objectively nodded and ran down the hallway with her.
From the third-floor boarding level, a solid line of passengers snaked its way down both sides of the pyramidal staircase and the second-floor queue, which ponies continued to fill from the nearby counters of TACA and Sun Country airlines.
Air Canada flight #557 to Vancouver is paging Mrs. Fyre-Flye; a party of 12 passengers. Repeat: Mrs. Fyre-Flye and your party of 12, please report to gate 26 for immediate boarding. Thank you.
The red-maned Alicorn stood motionless before the queue, staring through her silver pocket watch at the floor.
We’re finished. There’s no way we’ll get past this in time without “Top Tier” priority boarding, and we were just a couple hundred miles short of getting it too.
“Ma’am, they just called for us on the intercom. Shall we give it a try anyway? Maybe the other passengers will allow us to skip ahead,” Princess Celestia suggested to her as the guards encased both in their protective box. The brush of armor against her pelt stirred her back to reality.
“No. I won’t ask the impossible, especially of Spike and Applebloom. Our bags won’t fly without us, so we’ll have to pick them up and rebook on the next possible flight,” the executive producer decided, and the equine monarch respectfully bowed her head.
“At least this gives me something to encourage Hasbro to finance morning flights from now on.”
No one has to know that Rainbow overslept. I really appreciate that she went the extra distance, and it will certainly pay off when we start shooting the episode.
“Shut up, Applejack! How exactly is this stupid line my fault?!”
“Late to bed, late to rise! That clear enough for you?!”
Mrs. Fyre-Flye, help! They’re at it again!” Twilight yelled out.
“What’s going on here?” the showrunner demanded after running over to intervene. “Look, I’m afraid to say that we’re not flying today, but nopony’s being held responsible.”
“And I’m saying she has to be, otherwise we’d just be encouraging her bad behavior! Ma’am, you and I both know this one overslept and caused us to miss the flight!” Applejack said.
“What you do mean you and I? You said everypony already knew I woke up late!” Rainbow shot back.
“No we didn’t, until you told us just now,” Big Macintosh admitted.
The tomboy fell upright on her haunches, chest tightening as she looked into every one of her fellow cast members’ eyes and feeling the weight of self-conviction.
“It’s okay, Rainbow. I’m not mad. Angel and I would like the extra time to prepare for our roles too,” Fluttershy said with a smile.
“Nor am I, darling. According to the latest Vancouver forecast, this outfit would’ve been inadequate,” Rarity determined as she looked up from her smartphone.
“I’m mad at you, Dashie! Grrr, hee-hee! But you could make it up by buying me something at The Encounter restaurant in the theme building. I’ve always wanted to try it!” Pinkie Pie said half-jokingly.
Rainbow had heard enough. The sinking dread ignited into soaring rage. With a snarling countenance, she whirled herself around on her front legs and bucked her hind ones into Applejack as hard as she could.
A dull clap of hooves against skull-bone sent the Stetson and its owner flying several feet, crashing into the closest, unsuspecting passengers that made up the ridiculously long line. Bleeding from her nose, Applejack succumbed to unconsciousness in the resulting chaos. Mrs. Fyre-Flye remained in a state of shock until she felt something light thrown against her legs.
It was Rainbow Dash’s crumpled boarding pass.
“Forget you guys! I’ll see you in Vancouver!” its former owner condemned them over her shoulder as she ran for the doors.
NO!
“RAINBOW, STOP!!!” The producer shouted and gave chase.
The blue daredevil turned left on the curbside and kicked up from the ground. Passengers, well-wishing family members, employees carting luggage into the terminal; everyone and everything in her way hit the dirt or froze in place as she skillfully dodged or soared above them all. Pony traffic gave way to cars and buses as Rainbow veered right into the driveway. Horns blared and tires were screeching against the sun-scorched asphalt as drivers avoided colliding with the speeding Pegasus.
Climbing to higher plains, the airport complex and boring two-dimensional world fell away. The simple, unadulterated joy of natural flight coursed through every feather and strand of fur. She would’ve been content on her current vector if it wasn’t in the wrong direction.
‘Just stick to the coastline and it’ll lead you to Vancouver,’ Rainbow thought to herself. The roaring wake of a departing jet to her right impulsively sparked a really bad idea.
‘Think I’ll have some fun with those jerks. They probably cheated their way through security and got on the plane.’
Grinning wickedly, she banked left over West Century Boulevard and was now facing a runway leading west towards the Pacific Ocean.
“Virgin Atlantic number double-oh eight, this is LAX tower. You are cleared for takeoff down runway 6R/24L, over,” the air traffic controller stated over the radio.
“Victor Sierra-Eight copies tower, cheers. Shame London’s not so warm this time of year, over and out,” the Flight Captain joked before tuning out of the channel, focusing on the 2700 meters of concrete ahead of him.
“Lead flight attendant reports the safety briefing is complete and all passengers are strapped in,” the copilot reported with one hoof pressed against his headset.
“Avionic readings are green across the board, sir!” The flight engineer called out from his station behind the pilots’ seats.
“Excellent. Right, chaps, all ahead full,” the Captain said as he pushed slowly on the multi-pronged throttle with one hoof. The whirring engines grew more intense and pushed massive 747 forward.
“A red-and-white plane, that’s gotta be it!” Rainbow yelled out. Her mane and tail whipped about as she dived towards it, holding an altitude just above the tarmac and increasing speed. The aircraft ahead of her grew large, too large as the distance dwindled.
“That’s no bird! What the devil is that?!” the Captain shouted as he froze the hoof pushing the throttle.
“It’s coming straight towards us! Reduce power, reduce power!” The copilot reached out with both hooves and pulled back on the lever.
With the terrifying realization that she was playing chicken with the wrong jet, she arched her body upwards over the right wing. The plane was simultaneously going nose up with sufficient wind resistance. A turbine engine nearly sucked Rainbow Dash into oblivion, and a tourist who was sneaking one last picture of Los Angeles before takeoff managed to capture this deadly close call.
The updraft created by her ascent fed even more resistance to the wing’s extended flaps, causing the plane to list left uncontrollably. Nighttime guiding lights were crushed beneath the massive wheels as the entire fuselage trembled and groaned in protest. The main cabin’s occupants screamed for their lives, holding their forelegs over their heads when overhead bins jolted open and luggage fell out.
“Bloody hay!” The Flight Captain relinquished one hoof from the shaking controls momentarily to retune the radio.
“LAX tower, LAX tower, this is VS-008! We’ve had a near head-on collision and are turning by momentum to runway 6L/24R! Make sure that runway stays clear, acknowledge!”
“LAX tower copies, VS-008! Stopping all outgoing flights and diverting inbounds to runways 7L/25R and 7R/25L, over!”
“VS-008 copies tower, over and out! More power to the port engines! We need to level her out!” The Captain unlocked the main throttle into two separate ones and engaged the left side only.
“Passengers and flight attendants, assume crash positions; heads down and forelegs up!” The copilot directed over the intercom, wrestling his controls in both hooves.
“Current angle is 20 degrees and dropping; reduce power on port and starboard!” The engineer declared.
After a harrowing and protracted 5 minutes of emergency maneuvers, the 747 had come to a stop at the very end of the runway parallel to its original path. LAX’s senior air traffic controller on duty watched as fire rescue vehicles consolidated and rolled towards it with lights flashing.
‘Well that’s a delay, and investigation worth millions and many pony-hours of work. Better get started,’ she thought unhappily.
“Get me NORAD; priority 3. Somepony’s gonna pay for this,” she ordered a subordinate, taking a seat at the nearest station with a secure phone.
Wholly indifferent to the mayhem she raised with that last stunt, Rainbow Dash crossed land’s end, the late afternoon sunlight dancing across the ocean surface. Beautiful but distracting, she adjusted course towards Malibu, where the coast led her over the cities of Oxnard, Ventura, and the resort town of Santa Barbara. Her eyes clued in to the artificial crisscrossing lines of another, smaller airport.
‘I’ve always hated that kind of flying. Feels like being in a can of sardines, only it smells worse.’ She wrinkled her nose at the unpleasant memories of past trips and flapped on.
The tomboy cut across land upon reaching Cojo Bay, persevering her energy by gliding down on wind currents that accumulated over the mountainous terrain. She dipped back out over the water to bypass Lompoc’s city limits. Far below on Ocean Beach Park was the first layer of chain-linked and barbed wire perimeter fencing to a restricted area with the following sign repeated across its length.
3:18 PM PST Friday, January 7th, 2011 Vandenberg Air Force Base, California, U.S.A. Space Launch Complex-6
“Good afternoon to everypony just joining the webcast. I’m Ferric Shores, broadcasting live from Delta Mission Control, and I’ll be your launch commentator for today’s mission,”
A colt spoke into a headset microphone from his booth overlooking the control room staffed by civilian and military personnel. He had a bushy, rusty-brown mane and tail, wearing a blue business jacket and diagonally-striped tie. His cutie mark was the astronomical symbol for Mars, the God of War.
“We have just exited the planned 15-minute hold and are now T-minus 5 minutes and counting from liftoff of the United Launch Alliance’s Delta IV Heavy rocket, carrying the NROL-49 mission for the National Reconnaissance Office. As stated earlier, this will mark the first West Coast launch of the Delta IV Heavy. Let’s listen in on the launch conductor and his joint ULA/ USAF team overseeing the final countdown.”
Bottle Rocket, as his name and cutie mark would imply, has held a lifelong passion for space exploration since the late 1950s. His initial dream of becoming an astronaut evolved into understanding the science of breaching Earth’s atmosphere. As Launch Conductor with many years of experience, he holds a great deal of respect, helped in no small part to that childhood fascination still burning strong.
“First stage internal transfer complete,” said one of his team members over the radio.
“Minus 240 seconds,” announced a second one. Conductor Rocket turned his attention to the red LED digital clock posted above the main screen as the blocky numbers counted backwards.
“Vehicle ordinance armed.”
“CBC propellant tanks securing starting.”
“Hold, hold, hold!” Someone called out over the command channel with 3 minutes and 23 seconds left on the clock.
“This is the LC. Identify your station, and the condition you observed that exceeds launch constraints,” Bottle Rocket advised, jumping up from his chair.
“LC, this is ATC1! My radar is showing an unidentified flying object approaching the Launchpad rapidly from the south!”
“LC, this is GSC! First and second radial proximity alarms have been tripped with ten seconds of each!”
With the second report, the launch conductor’s eyes snapped onto the main screen and witnessed a blue mass zoom past the giant orange-and-white rocket and supporting umbilical tower. There were shouts of surprise from others who caught it.
“Attention all stations: LC is aborting launch! Repeat: We are aborting launch due to a critical security breach!” Bottle Rocket announced, triggering a flurry of activity throughout the control room.
“Roger, LC! Initiating propulsion recycling!”
“Copy, LC! Saving and securing of launch vehicle started! Both MAS and MST are rolling!”
The Mobile Assembly Shelter and Mobile Service Tower began their arduous crawl forward to enclose the grounded Delta IV Heavy. The launch conductor turned around and looked up at the launch commentator’s booth, and could see the camera was still running beside the agape colt. He drew a horizontal line in front of his neck to turn it off. When it was unacknowledged, he snatched up an idle microphone.
“Shores, kill the feed!” he yelled.
Ferric winced as the order blasted into his headset but recovered and turned the camera away from the window. “Uh, sorry fillies and gentlecolts, but as you may heard, a serious situation has just cancelled today’s launch. Rescheduling information can be found on our website as it comes in. On behalf of the United Launch Alliance, this has been Ferric Shores. Thank you for watching and good night.”
4:25 PM MST Friday, January 7th, 2011 Peterson Air Force Base, Colorado, U.S.A. North American Aerospace Defense Command - NORAD
A consortium of high-ranking military officers and aides swarmed through the complex’s interior. Clearing multiple security checkpoints to reach their destination, the posted armed soldiers saluted their uniformed superiors.
“What time did the FAA say the takeoff interference occurred?” asked a two-star Major General.
“Approximately 1511 hours Pacific, sir,” replied one aide.
“The UFO departed west from LAX and followed the coast north. Then, roughly seven minutes ago at 1518, the 30th Space Wing Commander at Vandenberg reported the flyby of a blue UAV,” read a three-starred superior from a memo carried in front of him by his aide’s magic.
“Why would anypony fly one low enough for interception?” pondered a newly-instated Brigadier General.
“The operator was rightly confident in its speed capabilities; it left their AOR before jets could be scrambled,” answered a Lieutenant General.
“There’s also the possibility that photographing the rocket launch wasn’t so much its objective as was disrupting it,” surmised one of the four star officers in the pack.
“General Tacks, NRO has just approved access to USA-129; near-polar orbit, currently 500,000 feet above Laredo, sir,” the jogging aide informed the American Commanding General of NORAD.
“That old lemon? We’ll be lucky to get a shot of it crossing the Bering,” Brass Tacks sighed.
“I assure you that won’t happen. CFB Comox is now on high alert, the 19 Wing ready to shoot that thing down when it crosses the 49th parallel,” asserted Canadian Commanding General Biting Bark.
With a final swipe of card keys, the reinforced blast doors before them gradually swung open to reveal an operations room of unprecedented scope. Service members of the bilateral partnership were working side by side at each workstation. The primary monitor on the far wall displayed orbiting patterns of satellites, while adjacent ones were turned into various media outlets.
“Sir!” a US officer with a silver eagle denomination approached and saluted General Tacks, formally stepping down from command.
“Directional controls for USA-129 are online and being adjusted to follow the target from its last known coordinates.”
“Very good, Colonel,” Tacks said while looking at the main screen that compartmented itself into three different video feeds. The first two were a 3-D representation of the Earth and satellite orbit rings and a “dashboard” view of the satellite itself. The third and biggest picture would remain a haze of static until axial manipulations were complete.
4:02 PM PST Friday, January 7th, 2011 Airborne over Huddart Park, California, U.S.A. Bearing north along the Junipero Serra Freeway
Northern California greeted Rainbow Dash with an aggravating mix of blazing hot sunlight and blistering cold winds. She didn’t know whether to sweat or shiver, so she chose merely to cover her eyes with one foreleg from the light.
‘Never been this up north outside of a plane before, and I already don’t like it,’ she grumbled internally.
The air temperature plummeted ever since leaving that remote missile base behind. Although not overtly superstitious, the weather-pony by trade couldn’t shake the feeling that it was an omen.
Sailing over the Crystal Springs Reservoir and San Andreas Lake, the course ahead was blanketed in heavy fog. Lacking a map or directional tool of any kind, she decided to dive into the shroud in order to find a sign or landmark that would steer her back on course.
Misty suburban neighborhoods nestled against the mountains stretched out in every direction. Keeping the 280 freeway in her right peripheral vision, the blue daredevil was drawn to the screeching silver-colored train that emerged from an underground tunnel and stopped at an elevated station. The echoing pops of gunshots originated from a freshwater lake on the left, the Pegasus instinctively edging away from it.
The fog had accumulated at the foothills of the approaching mountainous range. Gaining altitude and clearing them with a renewed flapping of wings, Rainbow was treated to a magnificent view of a bayside city that was historic, audacious, and undoubtedly Californian.
‘Wow, so this is San Francisco, with the piers, cable cars, and that big pointy building? Yup, they’re all here. Not too bad, except for the cold. Now where’s that-’
“Aha!” she said and zoomed off towards the landmark she had been looking for.
Ascending from the convoluted pathways of the Presidio were the international orange-colored towers and cabling of the Golden Gate Bridge, the gentle sloping of the latter was begging yet another opportunity to show off; an impulse that Rainbow Dash was always keen to oblige.
Descending towards the roadway, she blew past the vehicle toll booth and aligned herself with the pedestrian walkway on the right hand side of the bridge. The main pipe began running upwards from a stone foundation with a row of vertical reinforcing cabling running down its entire length. The tomboy weaved in and out of each column, shifting quickly into corkscrews through them. She righted herself over the main pipe on approach to the first tower. A square, sharp-ended pedestal at the very top was the focal point she was hoping for.
‘Yes, just a little closer-’
When her front hooves made contact with the pedestal, she tucked her wings in, shifted her center of gravity and catapulted herself over the tower, somersaulting repeatedly.
Sensing the eventual pull of gravity, Rainbow unfurled, using her wings to slow her descent. She landed hind legs first onto the main pipe and slid down towards the vehicle deck. Trailing sparks from her hooves, her legs jerked intermittingly on uneven sections of the pipe. Thoroughly enjoying the thrill of unnecessary danger, she stomped her hooves into the metal to generate more sparks.
San Francisco residents and tourists halfway across the bridge looked around for the source of that horrendous metallic racket, not the least bit expecting to find a blue mare with rainbow-streaked hair rolling past them, an arrogant, devilish look on her face.
The athlete’s momentum depreciated upon reaching the middle, so she tilted forward and began running on all four legs up the main pipe. Before long, her muscles ached slightly at the unyielding build of incline.
‘This is awesome! Best workout I’ve ever had, and the cold just soothes and keeps me going! I am definitely coming back here and see the rest of this city!’
Rainbow leaped into a flip from the pipe into the topmost loop of the second tower. When all four legs connected on the orange metal, she launched into the Marin Headlands and onwards towards Vancouver.
At inconceivable heights above, an aging spy satellite had successfully acquired the prankster and was transmitting live footage back to NORAD.
5:12 PM MST Friday, January 7th, 2011 Peterson Air Force Base, Colorado, U.S.A. North American Aerospace Defense Command - NORAD
The installation’s commanding officers stood in shock watching the black-and white depiction of a Pegasus flying across the terrain at incredible speeds.
“Unbelievable. It wasn’t a UFO or UAV at all,” General Bark observed loudly.
“Indeed that our perpetrator turned out to be an Unidentified Flying Pony,” said General Tacks.
Since its destination still lied to the north, they might have a chance to get some questions answered.
“Where is the UFP’s current location?” Tacks implored of the US Colonel.
“It just passed Crescent City and the California state line, sir,” the junior officer said as he typed into a workstation keyboard, projecting onto the primary monitor a map of West Coast US military installations and a running blue dot.
“Shoot, its fast. Oregon assets won’t be viable at this rate. We need to be one step ahead.”
“We have WADS at Lewis-McChord, standing by under jurisdiction of the Washington National Guard, sir.”
“Colonel, notify the base commander he’s under ours now. I want an F-15 and Pegasi CAP mission to fly in from behind, coax it into landing at McChord, and placed under arrest.”
“Yes, sir. However, clearance to engage the UFP requires authorization from higher command.”
“You’ll have it shortly,” General Tacks replied curtly before reaching for a red button-free telephone receiver and holding it up to his ear.”
“Pentagon switchboard,” the operator said.
“This is US Commanding General of NORAD Brass Tacks. Get me SECDEF. Emergency code: Choctaw 235-407. Tell him Operation Noble Eagle is going into effect.”
4:29 PM PST Friday, January 7th, 2011 Airborne over Portland, Oregon, U.S.A. Bearing north along Interstate 5
A torrential downpour against her wings proved too hazardous for Rainbow Dash to stay close to the ground. She pitched up into the gray rainclouds and was bathing in pure sunlight once again. The storm seemed to stretch on for miles into the next state.
‘Can’t be much farther out. Seattle should be pretty recognizable with that Space Needle and equally lousy weather,’ Rainbow Dash glumly voiced in her head. Nearly two hours of non-stop flying, the various distractions notwithstanding, would leave any Pegasus exhausted.
Sailing onwards over the sea of clouds, the tomboy was hearing the high-pitched squeal of jet engines cutting through the stormy ambiance.
‘Oops, did I fly past another airport?’ No, that sounds way too small for those oversized tin cans. And why do I hear them on either side?’
The noise reached the peak that she was prepared to tolerate when two pairs of gray fins rose dramatically like sharks from the maelstrom underneath. Unlike the water-based predators, these fins were stamped with insignias and alphanumerical combinations that were indecipherable to Rainbow. The cloudy layer exploded in her face as the F-15s exposed their full form,
‘Gah! Why you son of a-’ Rainbow’s mood flipped when she saw the jets.
“Wow, you guys must be from the U.S. Air Force!” she yelled elatedly and waved a hoof at the pilots. “You were probably so impressed by my flying that you wanted to race me, huh? How lucky can a girl get in one day?”
The earth pony and unicorn manning each cockpit didn’t return the wave, giving only sparse glances through polarized helmet lenses. The tomboy raised an eyebrow in suspicion. With two more aerial breaches through the storm, a Pegasi duo wearing flight suits aligned themselves between Rainbow Dash and the warplanes.
“Unidentified Flying Pony,” one of them spoke through a microphone installed in his face mask. “We represent elements of the 325th Fighter Wing, and the Western Air Defense Sector. You are to be diverted immediately to McChord field. Failure to comply may result in lethal consequences.”
“WHAT?!” Rainbow shouted to be heard over the engines.
“He said we’re escorting you back to base for detaining,” the second Pegasus answered electronically.
“I UNDERSTOOD THAT, BUT WHAT FOR?!”
“You have neither the clearance nor ‘need to know’,” the first negotiator bluffed, as he wasn’t told much beyond his orders.
“This is your final warning – Acknowledge that you will follow us to McChord or risk interception.”
“NO! I’M NOT GOING ANYWHERE WITH YOU BOZOS! HERE’S WHAT I THINK ABOUT YOUR ‘FINAL WARNING’!”
The prankster veered into the first uniformed flier and swiped her tail at his helmet before speeding off.
Unwittingly providing cause for more aggressive action, the slighted airman advised the jets to fall back as he leaped into an arc maneuver and seized Rainbow, wrapping his forelegs around her waist.
“Hey! Lemme go, buckethead!” she cried, flailing wildly and trying to reopen her wings. Feeling the oxygen hose against her mane, she reared her neck back, snapping her jaws around it and wrenched the mask off, then driving the back of her skull into the captor’s snout in a fluid 3-step motion.
With a painful grunt, he loosened his hold enough for the mare to squirm free. She followed up by kicking her hind hooves into his midsection, knocking the wind out of him.
“Let that be a lesson to you, creep-Whoa!” Rainbow’s taunt was interrupted when the second negotiator swooped past in an overhead grabbing attempt as well. Despite picking up the pace, the blue daredevil heard them closing in on her again.
The bruised-nosed Lieutenant retracted his polarized lenses and angrily narrowed his eyes at the fugitive, reminding himself that he was ordered to bring her in alive, with nothing said about “uninjured”.
Losing his mike with the mask, he pantomimed at his wing-mate to switch to concussion strikes by smacking one forehoof into the other. The Sergeant nodded and settled into a parallel below the target while he circled in from the right. With bone-jarring velocity, they aimed a single hoof at Rainbow Dash’s head, but the sidewinder and uppercut barely missed their mark.
“Yow! Alright, that does it,” she growled. “The best defense is a good offense!”
The athletic Pegasus rocketed after the rising Sergeant, grabbing a hind leg and closing her wings, allowing herself to twist upside down and deliver a kick into the airman. Although successfully blocking the attack with a foreleg, the force caused them to rotate in space, bringing Rainbow on top of him.
Turning horizontally to face him, she threw punch after punch at his helmet and torso. Eventually the inertia gave out and the duo started to fall. Rainbow ceased the blows when she saw the mask-less Pegasus out of the corner of her eye, rapidly approaching to render aid. Holding onto the barely conscious Sergeant, she opened her wings to adjust their position and then cruelly pushed him into the Lieutenant’s path.
The Air Force Pegasi collided with each other and plummeted lifelessly towards the ground. The superior and least-injured officer recuperated, taking hold of his junior and retreated.
“She just took out two of our guys like it was nothing,” the earth pony Wing Commander mouthed tonelessly to himself as the aerial grapple unfolded from the perspective of his F-15. The triple-chirp indicator of an urgent transmission broke through his numbed state of mind, dragging his eyes down briefly to read it.
[INC-MES] PAFB_NORAD/ PRIORITY 1 >>MISSION UPDATE: USE OF DEADLY FORCE AUTHORIZED
Rainbow Dash watched as the humbled soldiers dipped back into the soup, which up ahead was dissipating and revealed the highway below. She continued along this course towards Vancouver, resolving to indulge no further distractions to her journey. Even still, a strange hissing noise that was coming up fast from behind drew an irritated look over her shoulder.
That agitation drowned in the terror that surged through every fiber at the missile that was closing the distance to impact. Scrambling to get out its way, the guiding fins spared her by inches and left her hacking on spent propellant. The warhead exploded soon after, throwing her out of the sky.
When the disorientation and ear-ringing subsided, the tomboy looked around for the F-15s she could now hear turning around for another pass. Several miles away, the fighters jointly breached through a cumulus curtain and launched 3 missiles between the two.
‘Oh, man, this is not good! I can’t dodge them forever, and there’s no hope in outrunning them!’ The spectrum-maned Pegasus panicked internally, scanning the vicinity for another option. All she could she were scattered storm clouds that were too small to hide in.
‘Wait, that’s it!’
She blasted off to the north with the guided weapons still after her. A bulky gray cloud was in her sights just below. Diving at exactly 45 degrees towards it, she stomped all four hooves into its topmost layer with tremendous force. The cloud began to shake and tendrils of electricity danced all around her feet.
The unnatural whistling from behind informed her that they were following the same diagonal vector. Rainbow Dash took flight once more and headed for the next set of clouds in her path. The projectiles were about to clear the destabilized storm cloud when it suddenly started clawing the air above with bolts of lightning, striking and detonating one. Like hopping on stepping stones, the athletic Pegasus rigged storm clouds to fire their reserve energy, eventually destroying the remaining two missiles.
With the F-15s closing in, Rainbow decided once again to switch tactics. She flew into the last gray cloud, cradling a soccer ball-sized portion of it in her forelegs as she exited. Condensing the fluffy matter into a cylindrical shape, she took a bite of the top and spit it out. Performing a complete about-face, she arched the makeshift grenade at one of the warplanes.
Upon contact, a powerful electrical flash blinded the pilot and overloaded critical components onboard. Trailing black smoke from one of its engines, the disabled plane turned back towards McChord field, while the remaining F-15 endeavored to cut Rainbow’s celebration, and life short with a searing hail of 20mm Vulcan fire.
With all other options expended, the Pegasus used all possible speed to get away from the lone hunter, much deadlier now without the fear of harming any wingmates. Rainbow screamed at the top of her lungs as the fighter jet hazardously came in close for several minutes as an effective intimidation tactic.
The F-15 peeled away from its target when instructed not to fire over a civilian population or interfere with local airport traffic. Figuring out that staying close to cities kept her out of danger, the blue daredevil hurriedly soared past the Seattle skyline, building more life-saving distance between herself and the crazed pilot behind the jet.
6:35 PM MST Friday, January 7th, 2011 Peterson Air Force Base, Colorado, U.S.A. North American Aerospace Defense Command - NORAD
The UFP's race north over Interstate 5 went largely unchallenged until she entered wooded clearings between Arlington and Mt. Vernon, coming under more gunfire and missile attacks, then again from Burlington to Bellingham. Upon reaching the last major border town, however, General Tacks relinquished that continuing the pursuit was no longer a U.S. option.
“Order that plane to disengage and hold position on the 49th parallel until Homeland Security can close the border to that UFP,” the American Commanding General decided.
“Yes, sir!” The US Colonel saluted and rushed to a phone. Brass Tacks turned his attention back on the satellite imagery on the main screen.
“She’s currently over southern Vancouver, so we can’t scramble our forces yet without provocation,” the Canadian Commanding General stated. “Public Safety’s been notified and is dispatching CBSA officers to process her.”
It makes no sense at all to surrender that easily. Was she aiming to embarrass us? Russia’s reportedly been tracking this fiasco out of Vandenberg and having an absolute field day.”
“You’ll be the ones to ask her within a few hours’ time. We’ll turn her over at the Blaine POE when we’re done with our paperwork,” Biting Bark assured his bilateral ally and friend.
5:38 PM PST Friday, January 7th, 2011 Airborne over Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada Searching for the DHX Media studio
Rainbow Dash impulsively looked over her shoulder, smiling in relief each time at the absence of any missiles or fighter jets bearing down on her. She was well across the border and in the city of Vancouver. There was no reason to believe any of that craziness would follow her here.
‘I can’t believe I made it. I almost bought the farm several times back there-‘
The farm reference reminded her of the grave injury she inflicted upon Applejack, and her rather rude departure from LAX. The broken and prone image of her costar burned her insides with guilt, yet left her shivering outwardly from the cold air. In hindsight, nobody really did blame her for oversleeping and missing the flight; only herself.
‘I’ve got some things to answer for when the others get here. But she still shouldn’t have ratted me out like that! She knew how much this episode meant! So if anypony has to apologize first, it’s going to be her!’
Confident with that assessment, she returned to her primary task of locating DHX’s main office in the city. Rainbow didn’t have the exact address, and the building wasn’t very unique, but she remembered the surrounding area well.
There was a nearby waterfront park facing Vancouver Bay, where she’d taken a well-deserved nap on the grass before the flight back to LA. Upon locating the park, she traced her steps down Main Street and Alexander, and found the six-story brown-and-blue office building that the studio was based out of.
The tomboy excitedly flew towards it, but was interdicted again by uniformed Pegasi; a colt and mare duo wearing dark blue raid jackets with white “CBSA-ASFC” lettering on either sleeve.
“Good afternoon, ma’am. On behalf of the Canada Border Services Agency, we welcome you to Vancouver,” the male officer said with a pleasant smile. “My partner and I represent the Inland Enforcement branch and would like to speak with you.”
“Ugh okay, fine,” Rainbow sighed, having already forgotten about the hassle of Customs she normally endures on each of these trips.
“Splendid. Now for official purposes, would you please state your name, and the nature of your business in Canada?” The colt asked while the mare had a pencil and notepad at the ready.
“The name’s Rainbow Dash. I’m a musician and TV actor from Los Angeles and I’m here for my job. I’m one of the stars on My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic that premiered in October.”
“M-My Little Pony? Based on the toys?” The female officer coughed out the pencil in surprise, catching it in her free hoof.
“Yeah. Check us out on the Hub channel on Fridays. It’s nothing like you’ve ever seen before, trust me,” Rainbow smiled, recognizing a fellow old-school fan of the franchise. She nodded back with intrigue before resuming to write notes.
“My daughter and I just might do that as well,” the male officer replied. “To continue, how did you arrive in this country today? Did you fly on a commercial carrier, or-?”
“Nah, I flew here on my own power. Good exercise and good for the planet.”
“All the way from California, did you? Very impressive, that takes a lot of endurance. Although given your lack of hand luggage, I was concerned that you might not be in possession of your passport.”
The rapport the officers had been building with Rainbow Dash deteriorated rapidly at the mention of a passport. It wouldn’t mattered even if she hadn’t cast off her backpack in LAX’s terminal, for such an important document was always kept safe by Mrs. Fyre-Flye until needed.
‘When she called my name as I went out the door, was really trying to stop me, or at least get me to take my passport with me?'
Regardless of the answer, she didn’t have it with her while being questioned by Customs, a fact that was causing her anxiety to grow yet again. The officers noticed the change in demeanor and attempted to calm her down.
“Miss Dash, is everything alright? Do you have your passport with you?”
“N-no, my producer has it! Back in LA! I got into a fight with one of my costars and completely forgot about it!”
“That is entirely understandable. Is there somepony here we can contact and verify your identity and employment?” The colt asked calmly.
The officers would later regret not registering two key points. The first was the DHX Media office below that she was seen flying towards. The second was that their words were no longer getting through Rainbow’s twitchy state.
‘I’m in trouble now! I see it in their eyes! What do they plan on doing with me?’
The tomboy’s mind was going rampant with increasing distrust of the officers’ intentions. Obeying basic survival instincts that took over, Rainbow Dash sped away down the Vancouver-Blaine highway.
The accumulating vehicle traffic in the thoroughfare’s southbound lanes indicated that she was getting close to the International Boundary. Within moments, the Peace Arch and Blaine Port of Entry were within sight. But it wasn’t freedom that met her at the crossing. It was instead a staggering display of force.
Ponies on the ground in green uniform shirts and baseball caps climbed out of white SUVs marked with a diagonal stripe and the words BORDER PATROL. Some pointed up at her, others had binoculars. Covering the aerial front was a black-and-yellow Black Hawk helicopter with a cadre of armed agents onboard. A trio of boats with flashing blue lights also converged from Semiahmoo Bay, making an escape over the water highly unappealing.
Rainbow’s paranoia went into overdrive with the perception that she was now unwelcome in her own country. Opting to go with the demonstrated lesser of two evils, she fled north from the fortified border into the heart of the province. Unbeknownst to her, CFB Comox on Vancouver Island had just dispatched two CF-18 fighter jets with clearance to engage by NORAD.
6:03 PM PST Friday, January 7th, 2011 Airborne over the British Columbia province, Canada Bearing north with no immediate destination
Snowflakes, the first wave of a mid-winter snowfall, dabbed Rainbow Dash’s entire body, obscuring her vision with pinpricks of exquisite pain. Flying through this condensed air took twice as much wing-power to maintain velocity. The unrelenting scream of the jet fighters in pursuit compounded her misery.
‘How did it ever come to this? It’s so cold; it almost makes me want to cry,’ the tomboy forsook all pride in that admittance while the fear of tears freezing against her face was her final restraint.
The sparkling emerald and white landscape blurred as time seemed to slow down, but the suspected first signs of hypothermia came with the strange benefit of making her senses more perceptive. A distinctive whirring was discernible through the jet engines, and the Pegasus delved into a tree-lined crevice in the mountains.
The CF-18 hornets loosed another volley of gunfire. 20mm rounds zipped by, acutely warping the air in their passage, pulverizing snow and soil and cracking wooden barks apart, engulfing her in splinters. Rainbow slowed down and allowed the fighters to overshoot her, which they promptly circled back for another attack run.
‘The U.S. Air Force’s got nothing on these guys. They shoot like they don’t care about taking me alive.’
They probably didn’t in all likelihood, and the sparse pony populations across this region lessened the chance of collateral damage; further encouragement in the application of lethal force.
Never inclined to learn about the Rules of Engagement until today, it was only a theory that she wouldn’t come under fire if she was over a town, but one that might hold the key to getting these vultures off her back for good.
Heart alight with this new hope, the reckless daredevil picked up speed again, ignoring the renewed strain on her muscles. The mountain range she headed towards was familiar only because she’d boringly gazed out the window every time during the secondary charter flight out of Vancouver airport, something she was now unequivocally grateful for.
Intersecting BC Highway 37 from a southeastern approach, she cleared Mount Edziza and its stunned campers. Along the Stikine River was the village of Telegraph Creek, where their charter would normally land in before the cast switched to 4X4s to reach the site.
‘Just a little bit farther and I’m home free,’ the spectrum-maned Pegasus proclaimed to herself in relief. A cascade of bursting ignitions from her 6 o’clock orientation brought fresh alarm to her iced consciousness. A glance at the disturbance revealed the extent of the CF-18s’ impatience in the form of over a dozen missiles.
“That’s- THAT’S CHEATING!!!” Rainbow Dash screamed once her gaping jaw became unstuck.
Although the warplanes had pulled back several miles to unleash their full arsenal, it would still be a matter of seconds before they caught up with her. Instead of folding to this latest hand, she went all in and at full throttle over the last series of cliffs into the secluded valley preceding Meszah Peak and the full-scale set of Ponyville.
Rainbow zoomed low and fast over the first outlying settlements, with a war’s worth of ordinance right on her heels. Crossing one of the bridges that spanned the snaking waterway, she banked a hard left around the town’s dual water/windmill, the first two missiles connecting with its base and blades and obliterating it utterly. In a single revolution encircling Town Hall, she drew the remaining projectiles into winding streets packed with houses and storefronts. Even when crashing into the ground, the explosive flash set ablaze the surrounding structures.
Many principal story locales suffered tremendous damage, including the Day Spa, Golden Oaks Library, Sugarcube Corner, Carousel Boutique, Ponyville Schoolhouse, and Sweet Apple Acres’ main barn. Fluttershy’s Cottage home was intently spared a flyover because of the many creatures that actually live on the premises.
With three missiles still chasing her, the reckless daredevil made a break for Mezsah Peak, arching upwards gradually until fully vertical against the mountainside. The guided weapons felt neither the pull of gravity nor the temperature, forces that were driving the Pegasus into indescribable agony, her exposed clenched teeth throbbing.
‘Now!’ she yelled at herself as the rugged cliff gave way to the foundation of Canterlot Castle. Rainbow corkscrewed around the outermost towers of the expansive set. The missiles failed to keep pace and collided into the structure, causing the cold, brittle connecting points of a large turret to fracture and tumble into the volcanic basin at the mountain’s foot.
Rainbow Dash shuddered at the echoing crash as the set piece shattered against rock. Far below, the Ponyville set looked like the scene of a disaster with red fires and shifting pillars of black smoke ravaging its once pristine and welcoming appearance.
‘I hope the fans never see this. This was the most horrible thing imaginable to happen today, bar none,’ the tomboy lamented with sincerity she never would’ve believed she was capable of. A rapidly cooling tear ran down her cheek at the thought of what might happen to the show, and what Mrs. Fyre-Flye and her coworkers would have to say.
The CF-18 jets roared past somewhere close by, interrupting Rainbow’s sorrow and reminding her that she wasn’t out of danger yet.
‘I did what I did to survive. I haven’t got the slightest clue why these jerks were after me,’ she began the monologue she intended to give to them in person.
‘I know I’ve ticked off a few ponies in my life, not least of all you guys, but nothing to this scale. From now on though, I promise you’re gonna be seeing a whole new Rainbow Dash, one that owns up to whatever she’s done. Nopony else will be hurting anymore because of me. And if these foals think they can stop the new me, then BRING. IT. ON!’
From day one, the Pegasus lived to take risks, but never with her life truly at stake before. The prospect was invigorating after all the perils she’s endured in one day; this time she chose to face death for something she believed in.
And what exactly that is she intends to share once she’s back on the American side of the border.
6:37 PM PST Friday, January 7th, 2011 Airborne over the Yukon Territory, Canada Bearing northwest towards the U.S.-Canada Border
The athletic Pegasus exited British Columbia with the CF-18s stubbornly trying to take her down, their pilots sensing perhaps the target’s newfound determination that drove her punished body onward.
“Punished” was a gross understatement at the stabbing torture that haunted every wing flap and every breath. The one tear she shed for the ruined Ponyville remained frozen on her cheek, a monument to the behavioral shift this whole misadventure had gifted her.
Through the flurry of a worsening snowstorm, she followed a series of lakes and YT Highway 1 as they curved to the west, building up speed as she did so. Rainbow could almost feel the ice creeping up both sets of legs towards her vitals. Saliva and mucus running from her mouth and nose crackled into solid form. Mini icicles crystalized on her eyelashes.
‘Gonna make it. Gonna get back to America and leave these guys in the dust,’ she thought slowly, focusing every last bit of power into flying.
A cone of aerial resistance and static electricity was starting to build around her, deflecting any further snowfall on her. As she squeezed her eyes shut for the final push, she caught a glimpse of a small town in the distance. The fighters’ jet noise was finally lost in the encompassing resistance that tugged at every frozen joint.
Suddenly, resistance was gone. Noise was gone. Even cold was gone. Every source of bodily torment ceased to exist as Rainbow Dash went supersonic over the Yukon, parting the storm in her wake and entering Alaska, where her momentum had at last faltered, leading her to crash into the snow.
8:05 PM MST Friday, January 7th, 2011 Peterson Air Force Base, Colorado, U.S.A. North American Aerospace Defense Command - NORAD
“The target is down, I repeat, target is down on U.S. soil-“
“There was some strange atmospheric interference earlier, but we now have her exact position on the sat feed. Coordinates are-“
“Yes, you heard me right, sir; it was an ‘Unidentified Flying Pony’. We need Army search and rescue teams to deploy immediately from Elmendorf-Richardson-“
“With all due respect, Major, snow doesn’t concern NORAD. If the weather doesn’t permit helicopters, then have your men on snowmobiles. Otherwise, you’ll have to explain in court why a Priority-1 target was allowed to expire-“
Soldiers at every station were busy liaising with multiple components of the armed forces while Brass Tacks studied the main screen, the spy satellite transmitting a snowfall-distorted image of the downed UFP, lying in a forested alcove of the expansive Wrangell-Saint Elias National Park and Preserve that straddled the Alaska-Yukon border.
“Name: Rainbow Dash - Actor on a new My Little Pony TV series. You have got to be kidding,” Biting Bark was reading off a copy of the CBSA officers’ report, stunned beyond all belief.
“They’re joking. They’re joking, right? Tell me so I can have them fired and be done with this madness.”
His aide sat upright on his haunches, holding his forelegs up helplessly, frightened to give any sort of answer.
“Let it go, Bark. That’s one tree you don’t want to go biting up,” his American counterpart deliberately added fuel to the fire with a poorly disguised chuckle.
“And your quip’s about as tacky as the first day I took command,”
“You’re right. I meant to say you were chasing a red herring. On the bright side, her production company has confirmed that the village and castle were uninhabited when the missiles hit. I’ve got both civil, military delays, and a couple injured airmen to address.”
“A promise is a promise. The ball’s in your court anyway, so she’s all yours,” the Canadian Commanding General noted respectfully while holding a foreleg out for a hoofshake.
“Much obliged, partner,” General Tacks accepted both acts of goodwill, walking out together from the control room in the process of shutting down and being vacated at the resolution of the crisis.
INCIDENT EPILOGUE
Rainbow Dash was saved from the sub-arctic tundra and treated for multiple injuries, under heavy guard, at Fort Richardson’s Medical Department. A review of the case by Justice Department and Military prosecutors decided that she should be tried under civilian statutes.
On January 10th, a 3d Wing C-130 Hercules brought her back to Southern California, where custody was transferred to LA County Sheriffs on the LAX tarmac. A waiting ambulance brought Rainbow to the county general hospital where she was to finish her recovery before the preliminary trial hearing. Mrs. Fyre-Flye, and the defense lawyer she hired, petitioned to allow visitors, namely her costars. It was then that a heartfelt apology was made by Rainbow Dash, and accepted by Applejack, who still had bandages wrapped around her head.
A list of federal aviation, espionage, and immigration charges were read from an indictment on January 15th, Rainbow’s first day in court. In following sessions, the spying and smuggling allegations were fiercely contested and dropped due to lack of evidence. A surprising factor that came into the tomboy’s favor was the granddaughter of the presiding judge, who turned out to be a big fan of hers and threatened never to speak to him again if he sent her hero to jail.
In the end, all criminal counts were dismissed in favor of civil penalties, beginning with substantial restitution to the FAA, LAWA, and affected airlines. Rainbow Dash was sentenced to a year-long probation against unauthorized flying within the continental U.S., enforced by supervised release through various agencies.
The Delta-IV Heavy rocket, and its USA-224 satellite payload, was successfully launched from Vandenberg’s Space Launch Complex-6 on January 20th. Any mention of the prior failed attempt was erased from official records.
Canada’s Department of National Defence admitted fault at the destruction its pilots wreaked on the Ponyville and Canterlot sets, compensating DHX Media for the reconstruction costs.
The Fall Weather Friends episode was delayed a full three weeks, airing instead on January 28th. The “Iron Pony” competition and subsequent “Running of the Leaves” marathon were supposed to take place within Ponyville locales that now lay in shambles, thus prompting the writers to set the events in outlying wooded areas.
The CBC network’s January 8th broadcast started with a report that a miracle that occurred yesterday over the town of Whitehorse in the Yukon. A tremendous sonic boom shattered the solitude. While the source was unknown, it left behind a brilliant sparking rainbow trail. The multi-colored band of light permeated into a snowstorm that rolled into the area, saturating the entire formation in its vibrant spectrum. The snow that fell carried those colors down to earth, much to the delight of Whitehorse’s residents.
The report billed the phenomenon as “Rainbow Snow”.
10:58 AM PST (T-minus 00:37 hours until departure) Saturday, January 7th, 2012 Los Angeles International Airport, California, U.S.A. Terminal 2 Interior
“I can’t believe it. That didn’t sound like the Rainbow Dash I know today. She’s never been mean to me,” Derpy said, looking back and forth between Mrs. Fyre-Flye and Rainbow Dash as the incident flashback drew to a close.
“That’s how she was back then, and her ego was even worse during filming sessions, like she was the lead star and director all rolled into one,” Applejack contributed when the primary two stayed silent.
“She went on that crazy trip to try and prove that she always gets her way, stirring up a world of trouble that could’ve easily had her killed or imprisoned. Hasbro almost fired her for leaking the Sonic Rainboom, but reconsidered because she was too dang important for Fall Weather Friends; nopony else could’ve taken her place.”
“We get it, Applejack! I acted like a spoiled brat and screwed up big time last year!” Rainbow Dash shouted at last after minutes of quiet sulking.
“I too spent the weekend strapped in a hospital bed, practically at gunpoint! Those court appearances were no fun either! And what about the negative publicity from constant police escorts, huh?! And now I’ve got this freshly annoying FBI agent on my case!”
The blue daredevil nudged her head at the trench coat-wearing mare, leaning against a nearby wall and reading a newspaper. Upon the graceless mention, she looked up from the paper barrier, pointing a hoof at her eyes and swerving it at her in a classic “I’m watching you” sign. Rainbow dutifully rolled her eyes and shook her head in full view of the agent.
“Was my apology not good enough either, the one I faced certain death for?” she concluded with tears welling up in her eyes.
The farmer was abruptly having a flashback of her own: Rainbow’s pitiful condition at LA County General, hoofcuffed to her bed. As the overseeing Sheriffs wrapped up the cast members’ visit, she’d pleaded for a moment of privacy between the two of them. Holding up a hoof, tagged with an IV tube and the chilling metal shackle around it, the tomboy openly cried as she said she was sorry for everything she’d said and done that day. Applejack, in spite of the lingering pain from the kick, acknowledged her own wrongdoing to embrace her friend, shedding tears as well on her friend’s shoulder.
The touching scene was playing out before everyone else as the Stetson-crowned mare reflexively hugged the spectrum-maned Pegasus. Mrs. Fyre-Flye and the remaining cast members displayed their approval in a thunderous round of applause and almost missing a crucial broadcast over the intercom.
“Attention fillies and gentlecolts, Air Canada will begin pre-boarding flight #553 to Vancouver in five minutes. All ticketed and confirmed passengers must report to gate 24 at this time. Thank you.”
“Acts of government are not choices between good and bad. They are between two evils – the lesser of two evils. Someone is always going to get hurt by a decision of government … absolute morality, absolute ethics just does not exist in affairs of the state.” ~George Kennedy Young
10:50 AM PST (T-minus 00:45 hours until departure) Saturday, January 7th, 2012 Los Angeles International Airport, California, U.S.A. Terminal 2, Third Floor – Security Checkpoint
“Bag check, lane two!” the X-Ray operator bellowed for the third consecutive time, his fatigue exemplified in how tighter he strained each verse.
His volume was well above what was needed to overcome the thick ambience of talking ponies, running machinery and wailing alarm bells, but still no help came. Hitting the "STOP" button on the suspicious image appeared to have concurrently placed the last few minutes of his shift on hold.
The officer leaned back in his chair and looked left through the angled wall of glass to see if time had indeed paused, only to be flashed with intense midday sunlight reflected off the metal framing.
“Gah!” he gasped, clenching his eyes shut and yanking his head back behind the X-Ray monitors.
‘Well that was a bright idea,’ he thought facetiously.
A semitransparent vision of the light burst had imprinted on his retinas. After gently rubbing his eyelids with a hoof, he blinked them furiously to encourage tear production.
Among the features that made Terminal 2 such an unfavorable post was a deep slant in the floor towards the boarding gates that allowed the sun to pan farther in through the windows, blinding everypony and upsetting their equilibrium. By the end of the week, you’d find yourself perching 45 degrees over the steering wheel on the drive home. Call-offs were noticeably more common here than in any other checkpoint.
The glimpse did inform the screener that it was a gorgeous winter day outside, but it would be wasted as he mostly planned to sleep in after getting home, and then reporting for duty tomorrow at 4 AM. Peeking through the gap between the X-Ray’s dual monitors, he could see officers from the afternoon relief crew trickling in through the exit.
In response to the continued neglect, he hunched over the control panel and placed his head in his forehooves, only to shoot back upright moments later when a foghorn’s blast roared up from the second floor staircase on the terminal’s public side. Passengers and security personnel alike looked around in confusion, then reacting once more to a loud traffic accident from the same unseen point of origin. The next disturbance that followed was a rolling thunderstorm, but everypony had become desensitized by this point and screening activities gradually returned to normal.
‘Meh, they’re probably filming another loud and dumb popcorn flick for the summer,’ the blue-uniformed pony at the X-Ray thought apathetically.
“Sounds like another wonderful day in La-La Land,” a coworker cheerfully offered his opinion as he stood waiting beside him.
“Sure, I’ll agree if you’ve got this,” the first employee said, pointing right away at one of the monitors that displayed the clearest image.
“What do we have?”
“It’s probably soup; pretty chunky stuff too. If the owner’s lucky, it’ll be solid food, canned fruitcake or something.”
“Eww, you mean like that nasty dessert what’s-her-name brought for the holiday potluck?”
“Yeah, Patty Cake’s latest pudding attempt. Remember when it kept giving off false positives to the bomb detector dogs?”
“I’m surprised we didn’t get a hazmat complaint after chucking it. Hopefully we’ll be in different terminals before this year’s recipe,” the second screener laughed while pulling out the suspect bag through a hole in the exit tunnel caging, allowing the conveyor belt to start moving again.
As he walked down the lane, several passengers impatiently ducked their heads to look inside the tunnel for their property, paying no attention to the duffel bag he was holding by the handles in his mouth. The badged official lowered it onto the floor and yanked at the paper identification tag for a clue.
‘Heh, that’s a cute nickname. Okay kid, I’ll humor you.’
“Sprinkles? I’m looking for somepony named Sprinkles,” he called out with a smile.
At the very end of the X-Ray lane, a gray-pelted colt reached both forelegs into a security bin, retrieving a helmet with jungle camouflage printing and placing over his brown and wildly overgrown mane hair. After fastening the strap under his chin, he put on a red clown’s nose at the end of his snout and a pair of dark sunglasses that completely obscured his eyes.
“Over here, buddy,” he waved a hoof, speaking in a slight nasal tone attributable to the comedic adornment. “And the name’s Sergeant, actually; Sergeant Sprinkles.”
The officer took note of the passenger’s cutie mark: Three stacked black bars bent upward, delineating the appropriate rank.
‘Okay, so he’s not a kid and it’s not a nickname. I hope that’s what creeps me out,’ the employee assessed from the guttural discomfort upon first contact.
“Mr. Sprinkles, you have something in your bag I need to take a closer look at. If you’ll just follow me to the inspection table over there, we’ll get this done in no time. Make sure you have the rest of your belongings before you do.”
“I’m all set, so after you.”
“Thank you.”
The duffel bag was set upon the worn steel surface. A tall cornered divider prevented the party clown on the opposite side from touching the bag.
“Do you have anything sharp or dangerous in this bag I need to be aware of, such as a knife or needle for medical purposes? I got to know about that second one especially, because I’m scared of those,” the screener poked fun at himself as part of his routine to alleviate each passenger’s concerns about these searches.
“Nah, nothing like that,” Sprinkles answered after giving it a bit of thought.
“Alright, here we go.”
Tugging the main compartment’s zipper open with his teeth, he pried both halves apart and began digging through the layers of material with his forehooves. Within moments he found what he was looking for and procured it for the owner to acknowledge.
“Aw, crap!” Sergeant Sprinkles exclaimed as he slapped a hoof towards his forehead, generating a loud clap when it stuck the helmet instead.
“We have a strict limit on liquids, gels, and aerosols for carry-on baggage, which is 3.4 ounces or 100 milliliters, and unfortunately this item is well over the size limit. Exceptions can be made for what’s necessary during the flight; medicine for instance. But given this is a regular consumer product, I’m afraid it can’t go,” the officer explained.
“Hey wait a minute, that’s not a liquid!”
“Liquids, gels, and aerosols, sir,” he repeated. “Basically any substance with a certain degree of viscosity is applicable. If you would like to keep it, then I can escort you back outside. You’ll have to check this duffel bag underneath the plane and then proceed through checkpoint screening again.”
“Go through all this again?! Come on dude, give me a break! The last airport I went through let this pass!”
“This isn’t ‘the last airport’, sir.”
Eight and a half hours a day, five days straight, it was always the same back-and-forth with travelers, right down to the argument of what exactly constituted a liquid, and riding on the apparent ineptitude of other airport screening forces. He was not unsympathetic, as the seemingly inconsistent procedures would infuriate him as well. But what the other side will never understand is that an organization this big and fast-changing is bound to have discrepancies across its numerous chapters.
‘LAX is one of the biggest, but we don’t always get the newest policy rollouts,’ the officer considered as he turned the can over in his forelegs, the paper label marking the product as vanilla-flavored cupcake icing. ‘Maybe I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt.’
Setting it down on the table, he used the edge of one hoof to carefully peel the frosted plastic lid off.
“What are you doing? Don’t open that!” the red-nosed passenger abruptly shouted.
“You’re not willing to give this up, right? Well I need to verify the nature of its contents.”
The cover popped open and the screener raised his upper body over the workstation to look inside. His eyelids and lower jaw instantly snapped open, irises jittering in place and mutely choking on the nauseating stench. He quickly pressed the lid back on the container and turned his horrified expression on the mildly embarrassed Sergeant Sprinkles.
“It’s not what it looks like. I can explain.”
“Sss-Suh-SUPERVISOR!!!”
Soon after the clock struck Eleven, Los Angeles Airport Police officers were dragging the gray colt out of the exit in hoofcuffs to their curbside squad car.
“Officers, please, you’ve got me all wrong! It was cherry icing in there!” Sprinkles yelled hysterically, his hind legs scrabbling uselessly against the floor.
Enter Time Runner
From an eastern perpendicular approach, the last Transportation Security Officer on Terminal 2’s PM shift emerged from a distant escalator and was galloping forth at breakneck speed. The earth pony possessed remarkable agility for his girth, squeezing through gobs of airport activity. Eyebrows pinched in concentration, his exhales rushed through bared teeth holding an overloaded lunch bag that rattled with each footfall; a fearsome portrait of a badged official that ponies were only too happy to make space for.
‘Almost there, keep going!’ he urged internally. ‘You can’t help being late already, so now it’s just a matter of degree!’
From the outskirts of his conscious mind, he registered a loudspeaker announcement regarding Air Canada, and on the other side of the terminal, among a large and jubilant group of ponies, he thought he could see-
‘Alicorns?! It can’t be!’
“HEY, WATCH OUT!”
The miraculous sight was interrupted as the two police officers and their arrestee stepped into his path. One of them had shouted, holding up a forehoof in a signal to halt. The TSO slammed down all four legs, wobbling slightly due to thin gaps in the tiled surface, but he barely managed to avoid a disastrous collision.
“Sorry!” he hissed, the bag swinging wildly from his mouth, before turning right and charging up the staircase to the checkpoint.
Then, in full view of passengers waiting in the adjacent line, he tripped and fell as his legs failed to keep pace.
“OOF!” he coughed as he landed on his stomach, releasing the bag handles, the food containers clattered when they too made impact.
‘Argh! No way, not today! Nothing’s broken, and pride heals faster than flesh, now move!’ he yelled at himself, patting the inflamed kneecap that hit the steps hardest, seizing the lopsided bag and heaving himself back up.
With the artificial mountain conquered, he limped towards the exit, aided slightly by the downward slope of the floor. Ignoring warning signs meant to deter unauthorized entry, he stopped at the threshold of a booth where a colleague sat, waiting to verify his ID. The tardy officer held up a leather display case worn on a ball-chain around his neck, his new airport SIDA badge visible through a clear plastic film. Nodding gratefully upon clearance to proceed, he jogged past the screening area and into the small alcove of the concourse where the daily pre-shift briefing was held. He was relieved to find a circular gathering of his fellow blue-shirts there, meaning he hadn’t entirely missed out.
The TSO walked briskly into the group huddle, trying to remain low-key, despite his shortness of breath and sweaty complexion. It was all for naught, however, as one particular coworker spotted him, instantly breaking into his racing announcer skit and interrupting the briefing.
“Arrround the final bend and down the stretch, it’s the dark maiden, dead last and washed out again folks! He’s not much of an earner, but the crowd loves his spirit!” he beamed, patting the late arrival on the back, much to his cringing humiliation. He hadn’t yet gotten to know all of his coworkers’ names and personalities, but this one certainly went out of his way to distinguish himself.
“Thanks, Eggs. Your sincerity and subtlety overwhelms me,” the exhausted officer said plainly. "You sure you didn’t miss the true meaning of your cutie mark? TV or radio might be more your vibe.”
“Not a chance, Timey! From this place, I’ve got it made: A fresh live audience every day, with no contract to sign, agents or union dues to pay! And best of all, Hollywood could never dream up an awesome supporting cast like you guys,” Officer Ham concluded with another dazzling smile.
“Oh, really?” Time replied after a brief pause. “Well I guess it’s true after all that public service is its own reward for everypony.”
As crass and uninhibited he’s proven often to be, Eggs n’ Ham was equally unabashed of the warm sentiments he reserved for his fellow officers, regarding them as extended members of his family, especially during the holiday season. His antics on the checkpoint floor were simply his way of coping with the monotony of the job. He’d learned eventually, through many disciplinary actions, when not to cross the line of professionalism.
“Don’t mind him, dear. He just likes to mess with all the new ponies,” Eagle Eye, an older female screener, said with a friendly wink.
A former U.S. Navy sailor, she exuded confidence and wisdom that was tangible in practically everything she did. Having attained a managerial position, she grew bored of administrative work and accepted a voluntary demotion to the checkpoint. It was the dream of many TSOs –and the realization of daring few– to cast aside the blue uniform once and for all. Yet Eagle Eye’s return to the floor served as proof that the grass isn’t always greener on the other side, earning her admirers amongst peers and higher ups alike.
“He also left out the part about the FCC permanently revoking his technician license, on account of breaking every last rule in the book,” Visionary elaborated mirthfully while using the opportunity of EnH’s interruption to work on his latest sketch.
He was a part-time officer balancing work with a BFA at the University of Southern California.
“I heard they were getting complaints on him from broadcasters on each continent, and several planets!” Ultraviolet Bright, a Criminal Justice major and Secret Service candidate, enthusiastically burst in.
“Figures only here would he have access to transmitting equipment again, where he’d be harmless,” scoffed Patty Cake.
A daily hard worker and annual overachiever in her PSE and IMA exams, her dry sense of humor sometimes rubs others the wrong way and has undercut previous attempts at a promotion. An undying rumor within LAX circles is that she deliberately botches her holiday puddings as payback.
“Oh, oh, you think I can’t take what I dish out?” Eggs n’ Ham asked openly, laughing off the jabs taken at him by his compatriots. “Do your worst; it only makes me stronger! But Patty-honey, if you tried that with your dessert, you’d have to call out sick for the next 3 years!”
Patty Cake’s face boiled red from a mixture of anger and embarrassment.
“I’m sorry, what? You said you want to try my pudding? Well just close your eyes and open wide!” she advanced menacingly on him with a rumbling forehoof in the air.
“That’s enough, ponies. The morning crew’s waiting on us to tap them out and we’re falling behind,” a female Supervisory TSO sternly interjected to get today’s mission back on track, quelling at once the jocular mood that’d hijacked her briefing.
As a retired Lieutenant from the San Francisco Police Department, Minestrone Soup knew how to silence a squad room. Because of differing operational guidelines, the forced partnership between local police and her current agency can be doubtful even in the best of times. Minestrone’s approach, however, manages to achieve the right balance with LAXPD that has since made her one of their favorite counterparts to work alongside.
With both Patty and Eggs self-minimizing from her gaze, STSO Soup turned to directly address the subordinate whose tardiness had been the catalyst to the entire sideshow.
“Officer Runner, when the briefing finishes, we need to have a discussion in private. But for now, do you self-certify that you are fit for duty?”
“Y-yes, ma’am,” Time Runner answered with a spreading sense of fear in his heart.
STSO Minestrone Soup finally broke eye contact with him by magically levitating a clipboard between them and began to read aloud from it.
“A heads up if this is your Monday: Our scheduling still shows a lot of officers on leave well into next week. During the shift overlap, the AM folks will move over to lanes 3 & 4 while we take over 1 & 2; that’s all we’ll be using once they’re gone at 1630 hours.”
The small company of TSOs listened attentively, each of them wondering to themselves how they were expected to survive the hours, let alone days, ahead with only a token force. The lack of confidence projected onto their faces regardless and the supervisor took notice.
“Look, we’ve all been in worse setups than this. Remember the Swine Flu in ’09? One vendor coming through with a sniffle caused half the shift to call out. I’ve haven’t logged that much time on the X-Ray since I was a one-striper too,” she smiled wearily.
She pointed her right forehoof at one of the black shoulder boards buttoned to the left sleeve of her uniform shirt. It bore the letters “TSA” and three stripes on the bottom edge in silver stitching, delineating her supervisory rank. Her subordinates laughed and nodded in concurrence.
“Passenger forecasts from the airlines don’t look too bad, plus backup’s always a phone call away when we start hurting. Anything else you want to add to that, Caesar?”
Now finished, STSO Minestrone Soup turned her head to look at her male Pegasus counterpart who immediately stepped forward into the circle.
Caesar Salad was approaching a decade’s worth of government service. He was a veteran of TSA’s federalization that began in 2002, jumping ship from a private contractor. Intimately familiar with LAX from both employment sectors, he had a more tepid approach to his role as supervisor. Running a checkpoint was organized chaos, a view he analogized to a game of Jenga. When equipment broke down or screeners called out, that was his opponent pulling out individual blocks, so his next move was deciding how to fill those newly-created gaps while maintaining the structure’s overall stability.
In fact, he sometimes referred to others as “blockheads”, a term used interchangeably in moments or endearment or exasperation. In return, he allowed his officers to call him a “dinosaur”, and more recently, “Pterodactyl”, due to his combed-back and sharp-ended mane.
STSO Salad cleared his throat to speak, ending in what was similar to a bird-like squawk. Some of the officers laughed as they recalled his new nickname. Age hadn’t yet dulled his hearing, so he kicked off his statement in usual fare.
“Alright, blockheads,” he said in a gravelly yet cutting tone. “Let me and Minnie worry about the line. The rest of you take your time and follow the SOP. Remember: Everything’s worth a second look. Utilize your team members, and follow your Lead’s cue to rotate on time. If you’re not rotating positions when you’re supposed to be, then say something. Our team is small, but we all know and work well with each other-”
Then Caesar’s eyes fell on the late-arriving officer, taking in his disheveled appearance and heavy breathing.
“Except, of course, for this new pony joining us all the way from Florida. What’s the matter, son? Is it that hot over there that you sweat in winter too?”
Time Runner groaned, shifting away from his supervisor’s lightly teasing smile and those of his colleagues. He hated getting called out or put in the spotlight for the wrong reasons.
Caesar Salad knew how short the line was drawn for STSOs to play around, so he stepped forward and offered a hoofshake in apology to Officer Runner.
“Take it easy now, I was just joking. We’re all really glad to have you on board. Let’s make this a great first week of 2012 and set the bar for the rest of the year, right everypony?”
For the first time in public this morning, Runner smiled and extended his own foreleg to meet Salad’s.
Yes. Thank you, sir.”
The screener and supervisor shook hooves, and the rest of the PM shift made their approval known with small claps and cheers. The center of the huddle was then passed to the Lead TSOs as they called out the names of the ponies assigned to their particular lane.
“Okay, lane one begins with Ultraviolet Bright on TDC, Visionary on X-Ray, Luck Ringer on MAG. Magic Hooves and Eagle Eye, you’ve got the floor; assist with bag checks, bin refills, and pat-downs as needed,” LTSO Ice Water said, pointing at the officers she addressed, then taking a pen between her teeth to write their names down on the lane position rotation worksheet.
“And on lane numero dos, Loupe Lens, you’re sharing the TDC booth with UVB. Double Check, take the X-Ray. Eggs n’ Ham, you’re DO for the AIT-” LTSO Buttered Bread made his first selections when he stopped in mid-sentence.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw STSO Soup unlocking the supply cabinet where the whisper radios were kept charged and ready. The delinquent officer was rushing forward to be the first in line.
“And try to keep the knock-knock jokes to a minimum, would you please?” the lead screener called after him.
A sudden burst of crackling static in his radio earpiece made him flinch, followed by Eggs’ voice coming in loud and clear.
“Knock, knock!”
‘Just get it over with,’ Bread told himself with a sigh.
“Who’s there?”
“Imin!”
“Imin who?”
“I’m in your head, picking your brains!”
TSO Ham clicked his tongue over the transmission several times, grinning at his wincing superior.
“Yup, works just fine! Thanks, boss!” he waved as he walked past to his assigned post.
‘One of these days, I’ll give you a radio check you won’t forget!’ LTSO Bread thought viciously before returning to lane assignments.
“Monitor and Drill Sergeant, you’re SO team #1 on the AIT. Patty Cake, you’re on SO team #2 with EnH. In the meantime, you’re on the floor with Free Floater.”
“That’s a wrap, ponies. Go see Minnie for your radios, then take your starting positions. Passengers are waiting,” STSO Caesar Salad concluded the briefing with the order to scramble.
Time Runner slipped into the employee break room and placed his food in the refrigerator. He exited back out into the checkpoint and waited in line for his radio.
“I bet it’s annoying, having them point out where you’re from all the time, right?” Ultraviolet Bright said, looking over her shoulder at him with a sympathetic smile.
“Nah, it’s cool. I’m proud that I made it all the way out here, and so is everypony back home,” Officer Runner replied, smiling back. “Besides, you have to expect that kind of treatment anywhere as the new guy.”
“Ha ha, true, so true. I came down to Los Angeles from Chicago to get away from the brutal winters, so they were giving me the same routine for weeks. I’m just happy not to be newest swabbie on deck anymore.”
“Same here,” Drill Sergeant said from further up the line, shaking his head. “When I tell ponies I’m from Texas, they want to know where I keep my cowboy hat. I reckon they’ve seen too many movies.”
“Didn’t you know? LA has a reputation as the fakest city! Nobody’s been born out here since the ‘40s! People just move in from every other state!” Lucky Ringer said with a laugh.
“My family and I moved around a lot when I was just a colt, even overseas,” Free Floater reflected serenely. “I’ve only been as far south in this country as Fort Lauderdale. South Florida is indeed very humid, but beautiful year-round."
“You probably didn’t have water shortages when you’re surrounded by it on three sides. Here in Cali, we’re shriveling up like a raison,” Monitor said, her snarky gaze obscured by thick glasses.
“Why did you really want to leave Miami, anyway? It can’t just be this job alone. I wouldn’t even cross the county line for this,” Magic Hooves bluntly asked Time Runner as he clipped a radio onto his belt and inserted the wired earpiece into his right canal.
The transfer employee stared at the floor and rubbed his chin with his left forehoof, considering how thoroughly he should answer this question. Finally, he looked back up.
“Why?” Runner repeated. “It’s simple: Why not? Miami is the greatest city in the world; everypony else just doesn’t know it yet. But I’ve lived long enough in paradise. It was overdue for me to get out there and see what the rest of the country, the rest of the world, really, has left to be explored. California is only the beginning. The next adventure’s coming soon, I just know it.”
There was a long silence as Time continued to stare determinedly at Officer Hooves, who broke out in laughter and elbowed his new coworker’s side good-naturedly.
“Man, get outta here, you talking crazy! Adventures, sure! I see you’re fitting right into LA already!”
“Yeah, you got me! I was only kidding!” the screener chuckled, engaging in the gleeful chorus around him.
TSO Runner was the last one to receive his radio, a circumstance made even more uncomfortable by the fact that STSO Soup had to help him put it on, lacking the dexterity or magic to do it himself. After conducting a radio check to assure its functionality, the supervisor beckoned to follow her, away from the bustling checkpoint as the morning shift moved over to lanes 3 & 4. The dreadful anticipation was worsened by the floor’s downslope in, giving his world a disorienting tilt.
Minestrone Soup stopped by the checkpoint exit, where the last AM TSO looked towards them as his salvation, only to be coldly denied when she turned to face the late-arriving officer with her most scrutinizing expression yet.
“Officer Runner, please explain why you were late again,” she said.
Our unusual earth pony protagonist has an almond-colored pelt that was streaked and matted by droplets of cooling sweat. His deep brown eyes were darkened further by heavy eyebrows. Finely-etched circles beneath them were an indication of chronic restlessness. A small mole was affixed away and above the left corner of his mouth. His black mane was cropped close to the skull in a fade cut. His tail had also been trimmed within agency grooming standards. From the very day he was born, his life has been a race against time, an eternal struggle epitomized by his cutie mark of a clock with its face blown out, hands crooked, glass shards and the numbers 3-6-9-12 rising to envelope the observer.
Joining the Transportation Security Administration soon after high school was Time Runner’s first foray into the realms of public service and safety. Empowered to forge his first career from it, he distinguished himself from rank-and-file screeners through exemplary performance and an unyielding dedication to the job. Concluding that he’d seen enough promotions elude him at his home airport, Runner made the unprecedented decision to transfer his current position to the west coast. Three months after the move to Los Angeles, he was still hoping to make a good impression with a brand-new team. What’s become painfully obvious though was that some of his old habits came along on the cross-country journey.
‘With little savings and a pocket full of dreams, I took a leap of faith by coming to California, and it looks like I’m about to blow it with a write-up for tardiness,’ the voraciously ambitious officer foresaw unpleasantly.
“I-” Time stopped abruptly when his throat squeezed shut from the stress. Swallowing hard, he continued.
“I was working on one of my video editing projects. You know, my, my hobby. I just recorded some new material this morning to work with. I was so excited by the possibilities that, I guess I sort of lost track of time,” the screener’s last words spilled out all at once before his windpipe failed him again.
‘Please don’t ask me about the project, or the source material,’ Runner pleaded within. ‘If the others found out, I’d have to resign in embarrassment.’
“Time, Time, calm down! Goodness, you’re shaking like a leaf!”
He was surprised to find out that she was right; although his four hooves stood rooted to the spot, the legs were vibrating spastically and on the verge of collapse. He’d also been closing his eyes and holding his breath subconsciously.
‘What terrible sway unchecked fear has over the body,’ he noted.
“I’m happy for you that you have fulfilling activities outside of work, but there’s a time and a place for everything. It’s obvious you cared enough about the job to show up late anyway instead of calling out.”
“But of course I couldn’t do that!” TSO Runner said before he could stop himself. “My coworkers, my friends are counting on me to be here!”
“And that’s the kind of team spirit LAX saw when they accepted your transfer. But if you want a promotion, you have to show some punctuality, and that your life’s priorities are in the correct order. If I started putting more care into my begonias and less into my role here, you wouldn’t find me worthy of your respect now, would you?”
The screener’s world paused as he took in what he’d just heard; his supervisor, a tough-as-nail police lieutenant, a gardener in her off-time. It was just so difficult to envision, even for a creative mind such as his.
“Well?” Minestrone pressed on for an honest answer. Her subordinate shook himself once back to reality, and then again when he registered the question.
“N-no, no.”
“Good. Now the officer behind me has been waiting patiently for somepony to tap him out. I’ll leave you to it. That way, you can also relax and catch your breath from the run up here.
Then STSO Soup smiled in reminiscence of her days as a beat cop up north.
“Chasing perps uphill was always a pain in the flank. But oftentimes when we diverted them in that direction, they’d give up. Back then, the hard way was my only way.”
“Me too!” TSO Runner agreed earnestly. “There’s no fun to be had on the easy path! Show me a stairway, an escalator, and an elevator; 9 times out of 10, I’ll take the stairs!”
“And on the 10th, you’d take the escalator only if you were late, right?”
“Right!”
“You’re getting off with a verbal warning this time, Runner. But if I catch you late again, I will write you up, got it?” the supervisor said as she resumed her usual self.
“Yes, ma’am!” the screener nodded curtly.
“Now get going.”
Time Runner was just about to walk past Minestrone Soup when something urged him to yank the tiger’s tail and ask the last, most pressing thing about their conversation.
“Is it just caring for begonias or-?” But his insolent query was cut short by his supervisor’s laughter.
“You don’t know the half of it; I’m from San Francisco! Not a word to anypony or you’ll be wearing flowers in your hair too, if you catch my drift,” STSO Soup said half-heartedly, winking her eye.
TSO Runner winked back and moved towards the exit booth, tapping out the last of the morning shift officers for a well-deserved rest. He leaned back in the chair and stretched all four legs out. Immediately, a hoof reflexively went for the pair of Mont Blanc prescription glasses dangling from his shirt collar, but then decided against it. The exit booth had excellent standoff distance from anypony who might wander in his direction.
And so his impaired eyesight prevented him from recognizing the first several actors from the “Friendship is Magic” cast beginning their journey into the security gauntlet at the TDC booth.
‘Man, we caught ourselves one lucky break today,’ he thought, sighing in relief. ‘No LOG, and nopony knows what I’ve been working on.’
When the show first premiered in October 2010, he hadn’t seen it coming. The talent behind it was familiar enough, but when years had gone by without any significant output, they’d simply fallen off his radar. Then, five months ago, he’d made the startling discovery by accident while following hilarious internet memes. Despite the disdainful reputation of the franchise, he was respectful of those spearheading this new production and was going to give it a try. Binging on all of Season 1’s episodes within a few weeks, he realized he was hooked. Then in the following month, Season 2 commenced and he was watching each episode’s premiere, enthralled by the writing, the acting, and the music.
After months of inactivity, his creative will was going into overdrive because of the show. New ideas for videos, pictures, and stories sprung forth almost weekly, it’d had been impossible to realize them all, so instead he focused his energy on the projects within his level and realms of artistic skill. And beyond that, the moral and values that the characters discovered had permeated into his outlook on life, filling him with hope and other wonderful feelings that had long became dormant in the face of this drab and monotonous world we live in.
‘Five months ago, if you told me what I’d be watching, what’d be inspiring me; I would’ve called you crazy. I’m still not calling myself a brony. I’m just not that brave yet. Perhaps someday, far far away, that might change…’
Time Runner was suddenly revisiting what Minestrone Soup had said to him earlier, that his dedication to the mission invoked one of TSA’s three core values; team spirit.
He wasn’t ex-military or police, but he’d been a part of bigger things than himself in his adolescent life. Joining this line of work was easily an extension to those experiences.
‘One pony can’t be a marching band, and one pony can’t screen a plane full of passengers. Teamwork is everything to this place. Teamwork is trust. Teamwork is success. Teamwork is…’
Then he paused, smirking, and pulled out his iPhone. Punching in the passcode and going into the photos app, at the very end of the camera roll was a crudely-done photo edit. It featured a .PNG cutout of Rainbow Dash from the episode “Applebuck Season” against a solid white background. The pony was doing her meme-morialized “So Awesome!” face on top of Mayor Mare’s podium. As a random act of deferring from another late-night video project, he’d traced the lines and colors of the TSA officer uniform over Dash’s body, paying unnecessarily close attention to details such as the badge outline, red TDC pen, nametag, shirt collar and tie. Obtaining the round seal of the U.S. Department of Homeland Security off Google Images, he added his own text alongside it in blue, Times New Roman lettering.
“Yes it is, Rainbow. Yes it is,” Time Runner said aloud to himself, smiling at the stupid little picture on the screen.
11:01 AM PST (T-minus 00:34 hours until departure) Saturday, January 7th, 2012 Los Angeles International Airport, California, U.S.A. Terminal 2, Second Floor – Approaching the Checkpoint Queue
With far more exerted effort than necessary, Mrs. Fyre-Flye magically tore open her purse, the zipper derailing from the metal interlocking strip on one side.
Oh, shoot! And this was my favorite one!
With no time to mourn the ignoble demise of a beloved accessory, the garnet-haired, white pelted alicorn concentrated her magical power once more to retrieve within it her silver pocket watch and a thick rubber band-bound stack of U.S. passport books. A quick bit enchantment had the watch now tracking its owner’s eyes so that it followed her movements just off to the side.
The rubber band was strained and snapped as the passports pulled against it, the individual blue-covered documents darted out to their appropriate holders.
“Make sure everypony’s got the right ones now!” Mrs. Fyre-Flye said as she led the way towards the entrance queue and pyramidal staircase leading up to the checkpoint.
A quick flip to the main picture page confirmed as much for Twilight Sparkle, a female purple unicorn and the main star of “Friendship is Magic”. She stuck her Air Canada boarding pass in between the pages and willed it into one of her saddlebags.
“Ugh, I gotta show this picture for the next 3 years? It’s embarrassing that you had to hold me, Twilight,” grumbled Spike, a male purple-scaled, green-eyed baby dragon and Twilight’s on-screen personal assistant, as he shoved his open passport in her face.
On the leftmost edge of the page, next to the printout of biographical data, a portrait of a newly-hatched Spike was being held in the frame of the shot by a pair of purple hooves. The infant dragon was wearing a wide-eyed and happily distracted expression, looking away from the camera.
“Ohhh, but you look so adorable, Spike!” Twilight cooed, easing the passport away with a forehoof and giggled at the pouting, slightly older dragon before her.
Realizing that his costar was short on sympathy, he irritably tipped his black bowler hat forward, opened his briefcase, threw the accursed document inside and snapped it shut.
“Don’t start putting them away! You’ll need them soon enough!” the former executive producer advised, still trotting briskly ahead.
“What are you complaining about, kid?” Rainbow Dash asked harshly as she drifted over Spike’s shoulder. “Have you seen mine, or Pinkie’s? You can’t even smile, and we’re stuck with those for another EIGHT years!”
“Rainbow Dash,” FBI Special Agent Tipped Scales, an older female mare wearing a brown trench coat, hissed dangerously between her teeth. “Stop that flying this instant.”
“It’s not flying, Mom! It’s called gliding!” the tomboy drawled in a petulant tone. “If you had wings, you’d know the difference!”
“I don’t care, now get down here or I’ll make you.”
The six-color maned, blue pelted Pegasus mare touched down into lockstep with the agent, apparently doing so just to silence her.
“Pfft, make me what? Apologize to the air for hurting its feelings? Great job protecting America from one crazy Pegasus, Clarice!”
Behind them, the Apple family, consisting of Applejack, Big Macintosh, and Applebloom looked on worriedly as Scales' movements became rigid with anger from their costar’s constant antagonizing.
“She’s asking for it. The dummy’s just asking for the bad cop to show herself,” Applejack, a blond-haired, orange pelted earth pony, whispered to Big Macintosh.
“Eeyup,” her older brother, an orange-haired, red pelted earth pony, replied grimly.
“That was an awfully mean thing of her to say,” Applebloom lamented.
The red-haired, amber-eyed earth pony filly turned to look at Scootaloo, a fellow member of the Cutie Mark Crusaders, who had recently been the target of a prank by Rainbow and Discord. She was startled to see the orange Pegasus youngster’s cheeks bulging as she unwrapped yet another piece of chewing gum and dropped it into her mouth.
“Gosh, Scootaloo, does the takeoff bother you that bad?” the youngest Apple Family sibling asked.
Jumping as though she’d been caught doing something wrong, she rushed forward to catch up with her friend.
“Oh yeah,” she nodded and replied thickly, taking a moment to mash the gum flat before continuing. “It really hurt my ears last time, so I’m using more gum.”
“Okay then. Save a piece for me once we’re on the plane.” Applebloom smiled naïvely before facing forward and coming to a stop with the rest of the cast.
Before them, the towering presence of Mrs. Fyre-Flye was off to one side of the entrance to the stanchion maze, glancing at her floating watch, giving them a pointed nudge of her head to urge them along. Fidgeting briefly with her broken purse, she withdrew a California Driver’s License and crumpled rectangular card that looked like-
“Ma’am, are you-, are you coming with us to Vancouver?” Twilight asked incredulously.
“Sorry, Twilight, but this is just a gate pass,” she explained as she levitated both documents to the airport representative at the entrance. “I insist on going through security as well to see everypony off at the gate.”
“What? No, you don’t have to do that! This is our fortieth trip; we’re experts at this by now!”
“That’s what you told me on the 22nd trip. Then Princess Celestia’s pet, Philomena, decides to finish her molting cycle. Inside the plane,” the red-haired alicorn recalled painfully, massaging her head with a forehoof. “I hadn’t seen that much legal trouble since Rainbow’s Alaska excursion.”
“Mea culpa, my bad, all right?!” the tomboy called out indignantly, as she once did in court. Next to Rainbow, her FBI keeper gave a satisfied smirk.
“Well, yeah, the TSA did ban phoenixes and their eggs from commercial flights afterward,” the studious unicorn admitted meekly.
“Talk about a trial by fire!” Pinkie Pie, a pink-on-pink earth pony, said in amusement. “Remember when Fluttershy tried to sneak a parasprite out of Canada?”
A pink-haired, yellow pelted Pegasus mare uttered a scoff of disbelief so low that it was more of a sigh.
“You encouraged me to after bringing home that Poison Joke plant,” she mumbled in an accusatory tone. “Plus you’re always packing your jokes and party supplies to try and cheer those security ponies up.”
“Duh! Have you seen how unhappy those guys look? A good party always brings me up when I’m feeling down!”
“They made you check your party cannon into cargo,” Ditzy Doo, AKA Derpy Hooves, said sadly.
A Pegasus mare with yellow hair and a gray pelt, her stratospheric rise within the fandom began as a background pony in Episode 1. Her crossed eyes gave her a unique presence in a show that was breaking all the rules in girl’s entertainment. Episode 40, “The Last Roundup”, that they were set to film this week would be her first speaking role.
“I couldn’t believe it either! It wasn’t even loaded!” Pinkie Pie replied with a defeated expression.
An incalculable tremor was building within Tipped Scales in the midst of all these self-incriminating statements. Without any hard evidence, about all she could do was stare from one guilty face to another.
‘My, my, they’re all a bunch of little felons, aren’t they?’ the trench coated mare assessed coldly.
Mrs. Fyre-Flye sensed the disturbance and abruptly cut in through the chatter.
“Look, ponies, it’s really no trouble at all to go through with you. We can have a proper goodbye before boarding,” she said with a pleading, maternal look in her eyes.
“Thanks for the offer, Mrs. Fyre-Flye, but we’ll be okay, really,” Twilight reassured her. “Besides, Mr. Stew’s still waiting for you.”
The main star raised a forehoof to pat the shoulder of the former executive producer and smiled brightly.
“It’s not nice to keep your special somepony waiting.”
The alicorn laughed as her cheeks flushed in a bright shade of pink. Then she lowered her head and embraced the unicorn with her long neck.
“Be safe; all of you. And call me as soon as you get there, deal?”
“Deal,” Twilight nodded.
Swelling with confidence as she assumed her imbued role as the leader, she turned to the rest of the “Friendship is Magic” cast.
“Alright ladies…and gentlemen,” she added, nodding at Angel, Big Mac, and Spike. “Let’s do this.”
11:06 AM PST (T-minus 00:29 hours until departure) Saturday, January 7th, 2012 Los Angeles International Airport, California, U.S.A. Terminal 2, Third Floor – Security Checkpoint
“Um, Rarity? Your jewelry looks nice and everything, but you might want to take it off for security,” Sweetie Belle suggested as she and her older sibling were taking their first steps up the staircase.
The elder of the white pelted unicorn sisters had luxurious purple hair twirled into massive curls. She was wearing all sorts of fanciful clothing and accessories, most of them of her own Carousel Boutique label. Rarity dipped her head and gave her sister a puzzled look through her sunglasses. The lilac and puce puffy-haired filly retracted momentarily from that patronizing expression.
“Oh don’t be silly, darling,” she chortled nonchalantly. “These bracelets are nothing less than 23 karat gold. Only lesser quality alloys would set those machines off.”
“You don’t know that for a fact, do you?” Sweetie Belle asked rhetorically. “Better to be safe than sorry, sis; just take them off and put them in your bag.”
“I most certainly will not, now that everypony else’s heard you! They may try to steal them!”
However late in the morning it was, there were remarkably few passengers in line outside of their group. The Cutie Mark Crusader scanned their faces and believed they weren’t paying them any mind. The fashionable unicorn lowered her sunglasses and eyed them suspiciously nonetheless.
“But you were the one who said how much gold’s in them!”
“That will do, Sweetie Belle! I’m not taking off any of my jewelry! Security will just have to work around me!”
With an upturning of her nose and a resolute “Humph!”, Rarity climbed a few more stairs when the ponies ahead moved up, her dejected younger sister in tow.
“Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Sweetie Belle muttered.
Meanwhile, Rainbow Dash and Scootaloo were cutting through the empty roped labyrinth to catch up with the others. Back at the entrance to the queue, Tipped Scales was giving the duo one last, tender admonishing.
“You two look after each other. Let bygones be bygones,” she said specifically to Scootaloo.
“Okay,” the orange filly muffled in a reprieve from her incessant chewing.
The veteran special agent raised an eyebrow curiously before rounding on the blue daredevil that had been the bane of her existence for the better part of an hour.
“If I have to clean up another one of your messes-” she started in a voice calmer and clearer than any shout.
Rainbow’s retreating back shuddered, but kept moving away. In an unexpected pang of empathy, the trench coated mare left her sentence unfinished. With a final irritable snort, she turned and headed for the nearest elevator. She’d hit the coffee shop on the first floor before returning to her cubicle inside the Bureau’s airport resident agency.
‘I was probably just as big of a smart aleck at her age. No, worse even,’ she admitted grudgingly. ‘Hopefully she’ll grow up and make something respectable out of herself.’
“Whew, free from Lady Liberty at last!” Rainbow Dash quipped ironically after risking a peek at the departing Scales.
“She was a worthy opponent, but both of us had to know I’d come out on top!”
Another glance at the agent’s deliberate striding, and the sense of triumph ebbed away. It was the brash delinquent’s nature to treat every obstruction in life as a challenge. But in this case, it hadn’t been a match of strength or wits. The older and wiser opponent didn’t break from her tirade of insults. Instead she stuck to her guns and saw a not a game, but a job, through to the end.
‘Alright, we’ll call it a draw,’ Rainbow thought, sheathing an imaginary sword.
Her pink eyes fell on Scootaloo as she moved forward. She was painfully reminded of the “big mouth” jinx Discord did on her command. That was an unfair fight to say the least.
“Hey, Scoot?” she said tentatively, reaching out with a forehoof to tap her shoulder.
The younger Pegasus turned towards her at once.
“Hmm?” she hummed, edging away slightly from the hoof. Rainbow pulled it back in and commenced her heartfelt statement.
“I’m really sorry about what happened earlier. Sometimes I’m too prideful for my own good.”
Scootaloo’s face remained neutral, betraying nothing, and continuing to chew on the massive wad of gum in her mouth, an action which gave Rainbow fresh inspiration.
“Let me buy you a second breakfast after security! Derpy said she kind of made you lose your first after some crazy stunt for the fans,” she tittered nervously at the regalement.
“Nuh-uh, it’s okay, it’s okay!” the muted filly voiced in polite refusal, shaking her head and a forehoof up at her.
“I didn’t hear a ‘no’, so I guess that’s a ‘yes’, Rainbow volunteered slyly. “Anything you want on the plane, it’s on me, and that’s final!”
Smiling brightly, the spectrum-maned Pegasus nuzzled Scootaloo’s mane with her snout and trotted ahead towards the stairway. Once out of view, the juvenile’s appreciative look morphed quickly into a very sour one as she readjusted the special package, tucked beneath a wing, she was saving for the tomboy.
‘Oh no, you don’t! There’s no bribing your way out! This next one’s going to be on you alright!’ she thought sarcastically.
Nearing the summit and leading the pack were Twilight Sparkle, Spike, Princesses Celestia and Luna. From the wicker bassinet dangling from Fluttershy’s mouth, Angel Bunny pushed open the lid, leaped onto the floor and scampered through a forest of pony legs. He spotted a dark blue one belonging to his target, grabbed hold of the pelt and climbed onto Luna’s back.
The regal pony whipped her flowing, semitransparent cloak of a mane and turned her aquamarine eyes to look at him. The snow white rabbit squeaked and rubbed his stomach with a pained expression.
“Oh, he must be hungry again, you poor thing,” she acknowledged in concern.
The midnight alicorn ignited her horn, magically undoing the strap on one of her saddlebags and pulling the flap open. Within the pouch, a bright orange carrot with fibrous strings of root on the end floated out and into Angel’s outstretched paws.
“Aww, he looks so happy with you,” Fluttershy observed warmly as he munched on the carrot enthusiastically. “You must’ve really earned his trust.”
“Wait a cotton-picking minute! That carrot didn’t come from my-” Applejack rushed in.
Narrowing her eyes at the carrot’s long, green and bushy stems, she spotted the small paper tag around them bearing the initials “AJ”
“My garden!” the farmer exclaimed.
Angel froze in mid-chew, registering the earth pony’s disapproving stare. He gulped the down the mush and futilely tried to hide the rest of the vegetable behind his back, the stems poking out like a bad hairdo.
“Calm yourself, please. It was I who picked them,” Princess Luna said at once, about-facing to shield the timid animal. “And only a few while tending the entire patch in your absence. Angel likes their texture just before they ripen.”
“And what’s wrong with the ones stocked in the fridge?”
“They’re practically inedible; they give him toothaches.”
A picky eater, that little rascal? I don’t buy it!”
As their quarrelling continued in the background, Spike was once again bemoaning his passport picture. Even one security pony making a side-by-side comparison was too much for him to bear. He had to do something to improve his living image. Taking up the hat and briefcase had been a good start, but he felt like he was still missing something.
Gasping excitedly when he remembered what that was, he yanked on Twilight’s tail. Wielding the Episode 40 script notebook and her travel documents simultaneously, the main star threw the latter into the pages of the former to mark her place and made them disappear in a puff of smoke.
“What, Spike?” she asked, pulling her tail free out of his grip, annoyed by the interruption.
“Twilight, can you do the mustache spell on me again? You know, magic trick number 25?” the baby dragon requested eagerly.
“What, now?”
“Yes, now, please!”
“Any particular reason why?”
“Just, uh,” the baby dragon faltered, groping for a logical explanation. “Just trying to complete the look is all.”
He held his bowler hat out in one clawed hand and the briefcase in the other to emphasize his point. Twilight Sparkle knew him too well and saw right through his charade.
‘It’s just a passport picture, Spike, not a senior class photo-’
The studious unicorn pulled the brakes on that train of thought. Unsavory memories of foalhood photos were flashing before her eyes, including the aforementioned high school portrait. Groaning, she conceded that her assistant’s worries were valid.
“Okay. It’s been a while since that episode. I don’t know if I remember the spell correctly, but here goes.”
The main star’s horn glowed to life, a shimmering, sparkling aura encompassing it. Another aura materialized just above Spike’s mouth. Closing her eyes and grunting with exertion, the auras began to brighten, with miniature arcing bolts of lightning dancing between them. With a final popping burst of noise and light, a long and bushy black mustache unfurled itself and drooped over the corners of the dragon’s lips.
“Ha-ha, sweet! Thank you, Twilight!” Spike said, leaping up to hug her around the neck.
“You’re very welcome, Spike. Ooh, watch those whiskers!” she recoiled slightly from the pinching bristles.
“Heh, sorry,” he said, stroking his facial hair down his cheeks.
Emerging from Applejack’s grilling no worse for the wear, Princess Luna rejoined her older sister. Back within the sanctuary of Fluttershy’s bassinet, Angel Bunny gave her a grateful wave before allowing the lid to slap shut.
“Were the negotiations productive?” Princess Celestia asked amusingly.
“I agreed to help her family cultivate the orange seeds she brought from Florida,” Luna said, nodding. “It’ll be at least 3 years before we see any fruit, but I’m looking forward to getting my hooves dirty again.”
The midnight alicorn lifted a forehoof capped with an ornately-designed slipper. She could still see traces of brown earth against her ankles, beaming in delight
“That’s wonderful to have discovered a new hobby, my sister. I sense that you’ve grown in more ways too. You’re not even nervous about traveling without the guards anymore,” the daylight alicorn remarked impressively.
“Indeed. The circumstances leading to their absence were imposed by the powers that be, as was your trip to Miami. But I chose not to give in to fear without reason. It is the decisions we make in the face of adversity that define or defy who we are.”
“An invaluable lesson worthy of chronicling, alongside any of the Main Six’s letters,” Celestia said contentedly. “And it is through absence that makes the heart grow fonder.”
The royal pony sisters embraced, wrapping their necks around each other, for the second time since their reunion. Even four days apart had been too long.
“Celestia,” Luna began with tears welling up in her eyes. “Doesn’t this remind you about our trip to the capital? About the lesson we taught to another pair of sisters?”
Time often plays a critical factor in art, as it does in other aspects of life. Its march into the finitude of our celestial existence is an immutable force; the one true non-renewable commodity. Once time is expended, it can never be replenished. The right idea that emerges into public view, within the optimum conditions, has the capacity to achieve immortality. The idea’s founders and perpetuators may fade into a vestige in recorded history, but their idea will endure the ages to come, timeless and everlasting.
When “Friendship is Magic” premiered fifteen months ago, the new president’s daughters were entrenched in a pithy yet terrible feud. However, when the younger sibling beheld the joyous reunion of Princess Celestia and Princess Luna after a millennium of heartbreaking exile, it emboldened her to make amends, and even invite her older sister to partake in this wonderful show together.
The president and first lady were elated beyond measure to witness their daughters return with a bond that was stronger than ever. The following month, both alicorn princesses were mailed formal written invitations to the White House in Washington, D.C. Mrs. Fyre-Flye had accidentally ripped the mailbox’s door off with her magic when she saw the return address.
Within the hallowed walls of the Oval Office, in a private ceremony to which select few were privy, the first family greeted and commended both actors for their captivating performances. Having not been long after Halloween, the two presidential sisters wore elegant dresses and even hosted a splendorous tea party in the Rose Garden.
Prior to their return to Los Angeles, Celestia and Luna had been presented with honorary diplomatic credentials, produced by the Treasury’s Bureau of Engraving and Printing, and recognized by the State Department. The documents registered each bearer as an “Emissarius Phantasticus”, or ‘Imaginary Emissary’, and as the ruling heads of state of the ‘Republic of Equestria’.
As merely symbolic gestures of gratitude by the president and his family, the credentials would not grant them any official services or protection afforded to real dignitaries. One of the benefits it did carry, however, was an exemption from airport checkpoint screening, as they soon discovered on the return flight home.
Using magic, Princess Celestia extracted a black leather wallet from her saddlebag. The great seal of the United States of America was embossed upon the top cover. Flipping the wallet open revealed the portable, laminated version of the EP certificate and supplemental photo ID card.
“I still can’t believe you and Luna met the president!” Twilight Sparkle gushed, recognizing the wallet instantly.
Were it not for these marvelous documents, I myself would think it had only been a dream,” Luna admitted as she held up her own wallet.
“Next in line, please,” an aging Pegasus stallion called out and beckoned to them with a wave of a forehoof.
Sitting attentively on the left side of a sheet metal podium that was plastered with the rotund DHS seal, the stallion wore a short-sleeve, royal blue uniform shirt. Black shoulder boards, the letters “TSA” spelled in silver embroidering, were threaded on buttoned-down epaulets on the sleeves. A gold-plated badge and silver nametag strip were pinned to opposite sides of his chest. The nametag read his surname as “LENS”, then “OFFICER” beneath in smaller letters as his title.
“Good morning, sir” the daylight alicorn said pleasantly, lowering her boarding pass and ID wallet into his hooves. “My sister and I hold special permission from the Department of State to be exempted from screening.”
“Is that so? Well, ask her to come up and present her creds too,” Officer Lens said, readjusting his glasses and taking a closer look at the certificate and ID.
Princess Luna bounded forward and levitated her Emissarius Phantasticus wallet towards him. After spending seconds checking both alicorns against their photos and tickets, the screener sighed and scratched his head.
“Sorry ma’am, but I’m not familiar with these IDs. They look genuine, but I’ve never even heard of this title before. It’ll be up to the supes to make the final call.”
Placing one foreleg on the desk and leaning up from his seat, the TSO pointed with the other all the way to his left.
“You can wait over there by the side door on the far end. I’ll notify them over the radio.”
“Thank you, officer, and have a good day,” the midnight alicorn said curtly as she retrieved both pairs of wallets and boarding passes from him.
“I can help the next pony over here!” A unicorn mare TSO said with a smile, after a large family had moved off.
“See you on the other side,” Twilight said good-naturedly. With a final wink at the royal pony sisters, she stepped forward to the booth.
Twilight Sparkle & Spike versus the Travel Document Checker (TDC)
“Good morning, ma’am,” Ultraviolet Bright began their transaction with a luminous greeting.
“And a good morning to you, too,” Twilight Sparkle returned with a smile.
“May I see your boarding pass and a valid photo ID, please?”
“Yes you may.”
The main star’s horn flared with magic energy and the left saddlebag pouch opened automatically. Instead of her U.S. passport book and Air Canada boarding pass to Vancouver, however, a thick paperback novel floated out and wafted towards the screener.
“Hey, you’ve got same the book I do!” Officer Bright said, taking it in her hooves albeit politely puzzled.
“Oh, do you? What an amazing coincidence,” the studious unicorn said sheepishly. “I guess that’s what was on my mind rather than my passport and ticket!”
“Don’t sweat it; happens to me all the time when I travel,” Ultraviolet said, laying the book to rest on the podium. “How do you like it so far?”
“Great!" Twilight offered quickly, smiling widely, before unintentionally pulling out another book from the right pouch this time. “Just, great!”
Meanwhile, Spike approached Loupe Lens on the other side of the podium and handed over his travel documents.
“Hello,” the screener said before getting to work.
“Good day to you, sir!” Spike replied with both an exaggerated voice and swinging hand gesture.
Seeing how taken aback the aging stallion was, the baby dragon reverted to gently stroking the left side of his mustache. When Officer Lens then opened his passport to the picture page and leaned back slightly, the stroking intensified.
“It says your birthday was October 10th, 2010, but you’re already sporting a mustache?” Loupe asked, turning his head to look at Spike, his hand freezing in place.
“This picture would look like you, except for the facial hair. Did somepony put you up to a dare or something?”
‘Oh, man, did I overdo it?’ Spike asked himself. ‘I better come clean before this gets any worse.’
“Not really, sir,” he began slowly. “I sort of asked my friend Twilight over there to put it on me. I just wanted to look different. Right, Twi?”
The unicorn wasn’t listening. She’d completely dropped the notion of using magic anymore. Slipping the saddlebags off, she was now hunched over and digging feverishly through them for the elusive documents.
“I said, ‘Right, Twi?’” Spike repeated louder.
“WHAT?!”
The main star’s head popped up in whirlwind of loose-leaf paper sheets. Strands of her mane were pointing out in odd angles and her right eye was twitching from stress.
The baby dragon nudged his head at the TSO waiting for confirmation to his story.
“Oh, right, the mustache! Yeah, I did that!” she rushed through her confession while giving Officer Lens a disoriented stare. “It’s because he hates his picture. I should’ve fixed that too!”
And with that, Twilight resumed searching through her bags, unaware that her last words made Officers Bright and Lens turn towards each other, the alarm bells in their heads going off almost simultaneously. The unicorn mare mouthed something to the Pegasus stallion, who nodded in agreement.
“Did you check your script yet?” Spike asked her, missing the visual cues.
“Of course!” Twilight agonized. “Why didn’t I do that first?!”
“Heh, because you would’ve stopped looking and holding everypony up?” the baby dragon said in amusement while crossing his arms.
The script notebook reappeared in a smoky burst, and right away a rectangular white stub was visible from the top. Flipping through to the correct page, the passport and boarding pass were freed from their confinement and made a beeline for the officers’ podium.
“There you go!” the studious unicorn said with an exhausted smile.
With a tenuous grin of her own, Ultraviolet Bright pried the passport open. Possessed in her own magical grip, a small, dark gray flashlight hovered over it. With a click of a button, a beam of purple light poured onto the picture page, revealing hidden security features in the printing that verified its authenticity.
Turning the UV flashlight off and replacing it in the utility pouch attached to her belt, the TSO checked off the boarding pass’ key details with a pen before adding the last four of her shield number in a blank space on the paper.
“Thank you, Ms. Sparkle,” the screener said before willing the documents back to their owner. “Have a nice trip, see you next fall.”
“You too-” Twilight paused. “’Next fall’? But we’re in the middle of winter.”
“Oh, that’s, that’s a just a saying we have up in Chicago. You know, the ‘Windy City’ and all? Yeah, that’s what I meant.”
Now looking uncomfortable, the unicorn officer rolled her shoulders to adjust the fit of her uniform shirt.
“Oh-kay. Well, thanks again and sorry for the mess.”
The main star faced the sizable pile of books and papers strewn about on the floor around the saddlebags. With a little more magical effort, all of it had stacked themselves neatly and returned into their proper pouches. Twilight then slipped on the bags, gave Ultraviolet one last smile before proceeding towards X-Ray lane #1.
Next door, Loupe was furtively whispering instructions into the microphone clipped to his shirt collar, watching Spike on lane #2 as he placed his briefcase into one plastic bin, the hat in another. After a verbal confirmation, he faced forward again and asked the next pony to come forth.
Princess Celestia & Princess Luna versus the Very Important Pony (VIP) Side Door
Far off to the side door entrance by lane #6, Princesses Celestia and Luna watched as the purple unicorn and dragon proceed at last into parallel rows of steel tables. Behind them, Rarity and Sweetie Belle jointly approached the female officer, while Pinkie Pie saluted the male one loudly that it carried over in a faint echo.
“They’re making good progress,” the daylight alicorn said mirthfully.
“Better than we are, ironically,” the midnight alicorn added in slight jealousy.
Just as Luna finished, a male Pegasus trotted up from the other side of the door. He wore the same blue uniform shirt as his fellow officers, but with full-length sleeves and a long black tie, dangling freely from his closed collar. The younger princess sibling also noticed the three silver stripes on the shoulder boards.
“Morning, ladies,” he addressed them cordially, coming to a stop at the gate. “I’m Caesar Salad, one of the checkpoint supervisors. Loupe back there said you had some kind of authorization that exempted both of you from screening?”
“Yes, we do,” Celestia smiled brightly, magically volunteering her EP credentials to within a comfortable reading distance of the supervisor’s eyes.
“Emissarius Phantasticus,” he read aloud, his pronunciation rough around the edges. “It’s got the Secretary of State’s signature on it, but I’m plum stumped as to where you got it.”
“They were personal tokens of esteem from the President of the United States,” Luna elaborated, holding up her own wallet case to Supervisor Salad.
“Oh!” he exclaimed, subsequently regarding the elder sister’s documentation with greater reverence. “That’s impressive. If you’ll permit me to bring them to my office, I should have you cleared to enter in a few minutes.”
“As you will, officer,” Celestia nodded.
Tucking both wallets under each wing, the senior Pegasus walked down, turned right and ascended into the “crow’s nest”, an elevated workspace shared by the supervisors and had a panoramic view of the entire checkpoint operation.
“Need any help with them?” Minestrone Soup asked, pulling her eyes away from the hypnotizing fluidic motion of both ponies’ manes and tails.
“I might,” Salad said hesitantly, loosening a wing and allowing the first of the wallet cases to flop onto the desktop in front of her.
The former policewoman inquisitively studied the gold U.S. seal imprinted on the cover before willing the case open by magic. After a few seconds of scanning the laminated certificate and ID card on the inside of each flap, she delivered her assessment.
“Never heard of it, never seen it before. If it’s a counterfeit or forgery, it’s a darn, good-looking one.”
“My thoughts exactly,” her male counterpart returned, pulling a reference binder out of a cabinet. “I’ll go over the list of approved creds again. If I can’t find it, then we’ll have to make a few calls.”
Twilight Sparkle & Spike versus the Selectee Referral
“Step right up, fillies and gentlecolts, step right up!” Eggs n’ Ham pitched to his captive audience. “The future of security is here! Just come inside and you’ll be that much closer to your plane!”
The art of the sale is in the showmanship. A finely honed performance that overwhelms the senses can bedazzle even the most skeptical buyer into plunking down on a jar of dirt. Officer Ham knew that was the secret to getting the results his superiors wanted, even if they’d publicly disavow his measures.
Relinquishing his grip on the security bin containing his briefcase as a motorized belt pulled it into the X-Ray tunnel; Spike soon found he was gaping silently in awe of the imposing gray, circular tower rising up behind the screener.
“Buenos Dias, my dapper little dragon!” Eggs beamed at him.
“That machine looks so cool!” the mustachioed youngster balled his hands into fists, arms trembling in excitement. “Can I go in?”
“Apologies, friend, but the future of security has a height requirement. My lovely colleague right next door will see you through the metal detector.”
Nodding over to Lucky Ringer, the female earth pony TSO smiled and waved invitingly through a plain, rectangular portal. Spike groaned in disappointment and reluctantly walked towards her.
“And now, miss,” Officer Ham turned his attention to Twilight Sparkle. “If you would be so kind as to enter the device, the procedure will be over in seconds.”
The studious unicorn peered at the construct’s multifaceted design, attempting to glean some insight as to what exactly it did. She’d seen them utilized by security on previous trips, but had never been directed to undergo it herself. A lone stanchion next to the machine’s entrance held up a small informational sign in a glass display case.
‘Millimeter Wave Technology,’ Twilight read. ‘Use of this technology is optional. Alternative screening measures may be employed upon request.’
Generally despising knowledge gaps, her lack of awareness on the scanner’s effects left her cautious, and that disclaimer was the perfect grounding needed in her refusal.
“No, thank you, sir,” the main star shook her head. “I want to elect your alternate measures if that’s fine with you.”
“You got it,” Eggs n’ Ham acknowledged, titling his head closer to his radio microphone without skipping a beat. “Female assist, female assist for an opt-out selectee on lanes 1 & 2.”
“Your loss, Twilight,” Spike said indifferently, having cleared the metal detector and noticed her sitting down on her haunches to wait at the side door.
“Just grab my bags and wait for me in the back, okay?!” she barked, glowering at his retreating back through the clear plastic sheet of the door.
Knowing where his priorities lay, the personal assistant hurried and squeezed past anonymous passengers. Lying on the exit rollers were numerous plastic bins, the bulbous form of his bowler hat rising out of one. Spike gratefully took hold of its brim with both hands and pulled it over the fins atop of his head until snugly in place. When he went for his briefcase next, he was shocked to find the adjoining bin empty.
“Pardon me, young man, but does this belong to you?” Free Floater asked from the other side of the rollers, holding up the briefcase in his forelegs.
“Yes, thank you!”
He reached out to the officer, expecting him to pass it over. When he didn’t, however, a twinge of unease manifested in his stomach.
“And is that purple unicorn there traveling with you?” the TSO asked in a tone implying that he knew the answer.
“Y-yes.”
“I regret to inform that she and you have been referred for additional screening,” the blue-shirted Pegasus said before sharply nodding over Spike’s shoulder.
At that moment, a wisp of displaced air against his scales indicated movement behind him. The baby dragon turned his head to see another uniformed earth pony mare trotting past, a tagged door key clutched in her mouth. About-facing a complete 180 degrees from Officer Floater, he spotted a third badged official at the opposite lane, lifting Twilight’s saddlebags out of their bin.
‘Uh-oh, this isn’t good,’ he thought.
Rarity & Sweetie Belle versus the Walk-Through Metal Detector (WTMD)
“There,” Rarity exhaled in satisfaction when her purse disappeared behind the weighty lead curtains of the X-Ray chute. “Off you go, Sweetie Belle. I’ll be right behind you.”
“Good luck, you two,” Twilight gave them a wearisome smile as she sat waiting nearby.
“Thanks!” the younger unicorn sibling replied, turning to face screener and the unassuming metal frame between the two.
“Just walk on through when you’re ready, kid,” Officer Ringer said, winking down at her.
Her timidity hardening into intense concentration on the last real obstacle from getting to Canada, she embarked into the gateway.
‘Be brave now, Sweetie Belle,’ she willed herself, closing her eyes. ‘Have no fear, have no doubt.’
After what felt like an eternity of tiptoeing through the darkness, Ringer’s friendly voice broke in.
“Good job, you’re good to go.”
“I did it, I did it!” the filly gasped.
Opening her eyes in in a wide grin, she hopped giddily past Lucky before rounding about to await her older sister.
“Your turn!”
Stifling a giggle at the adorable display, Rarity regained her composure and strolled gracefully into the walk-through metal detector, only for that composure to be shattered when a bleating ring emitted overhead. The officer shot up a forehoof, preventing her from going any further.
“You alarmed the detector, ma’am,” the earth pony recited this passage of instructions flawlessly from memory, marching forth as she did so, prompting the fashionable unicorn to shift into reverse.
“I need you to step back outside, remove any excess metal objects on your person and place them into a bowl for the X-Ray before trying again.”
Now standing within the device herself, the screener pointed to uneven stacks of plastic bowls located on top of the X-Ray chute before backtracking to her regular position.
“Your bracelets, Rarity,” Sweetie Belle reminded her from the other side. “You need to take them off!”
“That’s absurd,” the older sibling said, staring down at her jangling treasures. “Surely the culprit must be something else!”
Lifting the sunglasses away from her eyes, she started patting down the pockets of her coat, coming across a hoof file and some spare change. Smiling confidently, she magically summoned one of the bowls to her, placed the scapegoat objects into the container before tossing it into the X-Ray.
“Okay, ready for take two!”
Staring at the manic unicorn in bewilderment, Lucky Ringer beckoned her forth.
*RING-RING-RING*
“Try again,” the officer said, spinning a hoof in midair, signaling her to turn around.
The sideshow that followed had made TSO Ham put his routine on hold to watch in amazement and take notes. An increasingly despondent Rarity was now sticking individual legs and leaning headfirst into the metal detector, freezing instinctively even when the bell didn’t sound.
“It’s not working, Rarity,” Twilight sternly concluded just as the side door was opened for her by another female TSO. “Just send your bracelets through already.”
With cheeks brightly flushed and faintly growling, the white unicorn glared impotently at the innocuous-looking doorway that had been become her new arch-nemesis.
“Ma’am, just step inside the holding area,” Officer Ringer sighed, moving over to reveal a steel and glass corral with a one-way door at the end. “We’ll put in a request for a female assist.”
Smirking delightedly at a hard-earned victory, a disheveled Rarity proudly walked into the transparent box, purposefully bumping her flank inside the metal detector, relishing the ensuing racket.
Pinkie Pie & Derpy Hooves versus the Advanced Imaging Technology (AIT)
“Well she was a fun little distraction,” Eggs n’ Ham said in earnest, continuing to stare at the confined unicorn. “I gotta hand it to a pony to stands by her principles.”
“Oh, you have no idea!” Pinkie Pie replied, snickering. “You should see her during a department store sale; she goes right for the jugular!”
Facing forward, the Pegasus saw a bright pink, springy-haired earth pony mare staring interestedly at him. In what could only be aptly described as an alignment of the planets and stars, the jokester’s impervious façade was cracked as her baby blue eyes delved into his soul.
“Y-yeah, jugular,” he stumbled after recognizing the joke. “Ha-ha, good one.”
His peripheral vision was becoming lost in a milky haze, the seductive melody of a saxophone and exploding fireworks filled his ears, and for the first time in living memory, Eggs found himself at a loss for words.
“Hey, Ham, What’s the holdup?” Drill Sergeant snapped at the dumbstruck screener through the open chamber from the other side of the scanner.
Seconds into her stare seemed to drag on for an eternity. In slow motion, the mare threw her head back, the hook-like curl in her mane bouncing off to the side of her face, before moving in even closer.
“Well?” she began, her voice throaty and alluring, her bright, glittering eyes expectant.
“Aren’t you going to…let me in?”
“Wh-what?!” the stallion yelped, his heart beating so fast that it felt ready to burst out of his chest.
(If the music's still going, pause it now)
“Aren’t you going to let me in?” Pinkie repeated in the real world and in a normal speed, pointing past the red-faced officer at the towering device behind him.
“Oh, um, of course!” Eggs said, giving his wings a sharp flap and standing aside. “G-go ahead.”
“Gracias!” the party mare said, giving him one last smile before walking into the machine.
Shaken to the core at having just met his match, the TSO engaged in deep breathing exercises for several minutes in self-recuperation, paying no mind to Derpy Hooves as she waited patiently undergo scanning after Pinkie Pie.
“Howdy, miss,” Officer Sergeant welcomed the exuberant passenger. “Are you familiar with the process of Millimeter Wave detection?”
“Nope,” Pinkie shook her head, her mane whipping about.
“Don’t worry, it’s simple. I need you to stand on those hoofprints and face that direction.”
The screener gestured at yellow impressions of horseshoes pasted on the metal platform, pointing in a perpendicular direction from which she had entered.
“Two prints?” she observed. “Does that mean I have to-“
“Stand upright? Yes,” Drill finished. “If you have a physical impediment that prevents you from doing that, Officer Monitor can give you a pat-down instead.”
“It’s no problem, look!”
With a grunt, Pinkie demonstrated by heaving her upper torso and forehooves into the air. Jutting her hind legs into the floor diagrams, she completed an elongated “X” shape with her entire body.
“Ready!”
“Great, now just hold still,” the Texan unicorn said, his hoof tapping the green SCAN button on the touch screen.
“EEYAAHH!” the prankster shrieked.
Losing her balance, she slammed backwards into a curved plastic wall of the inner chamber, her rump sliding down to the freezing platform. An error message with the word “INVALID” appeared on the operator control panel. Drill Sergeant poked his head in.
“What’s wrong? Why’d you move?” he fired off in quick succession.
“Because s-sss-something else moved!” the earth pony replied, pointing a forehoof at a long, dark cylindrical mass hanging motionless off to one side of the machine’s interior.
“That’s just one of the scanning bars. This barrier separates you from it,” he proved by rapping a hoof on the transparent shield before offering it to Pinkie.
“What do you say we it give another try, partner?” he smilingly asked in a calmer, more paternal manner. It befitted his days as a ranch instructor than at Lackland.
“Sure!” she grinned back, seizing the hoof and was helped back onto her feet.
Once more, Pinkie Pie assumed the upright position necessary for the scan. Seeking a distraction from the physical exertion, her wandering eyes traced a life-size cutout of a pony silhouette mimicking her current pose. At the center of mass where its heart would be, there was an illustration of a stopwatch, a thin red slice cut into its round face. The words “Please hold pose." and "3 sec.” were printed over and beneath it.
In the flash of an instant, the free-spirited mare was whisked back in time to the dance studio Mrs. Fyre-Flye had signed the “Mane Six” up for lessons. During each warm-up session, the instructor made them hold a roughly similar starting position, taking turns in placing her stopwatch around each of their necks.
‘Ignore the pain, just focus on the watch,’ she always said. ‘Feel the ticking rhythm; let it synchronize with your heart. Then, after three seconds, DANCE!’
Closing her eyes, Pinkie took a deep breath and tensed her muscles for action. When Drill Sergeant’s next words of ‘Here we go’ drifted into the solitude, she nodded.
‘One, two,’ she counted the “lub-dub” pulses from within.
With a grinding electronic rumble, the two scanning bars surged forth, revolving in opposing directions around the captive pony inside the chamber.
‘LUB-DUB!’
The prankster centered her weight onto a single foot and went into a dizzying ballerina twirl, ending in a humble bow to the TSO.
“Uh,” Officer Sergeant moaned, completely befuddled when Monitor elbowed past him.
“Ugh, first Eggs, and now you?” she said testily, her glasses flashing when they caught the light. “What’s gotten into you boys today?”
“I hear you, sister. It seems like we’re doing all the work,” Patty Cake commented in passing, motioning to Twilight, whom she was escorting.
The bespectacled unicorn was now face-to-face with the defiant earth pony passenger, still bowing in place.
“Let’s take this once more from the top,” Officer Monitor commanded, tapping the touch screen to dismiss the latest error message.
Comprehending the words her own way, Pinkie Pie nodded with eyes still shut and resumed the X-shaped form. And with every attempt at a scan that followed, she performed another dancing sequence, each one more complex than the last. After her fifth and equally fruitless trial, Monitor finally surrendered.
“Just come with me, miss,” she said and beckoned miserably to her.
Beaming without a care in the world, the party mare did so, bounding out of the machine. Drill Sergeant took point again when Derpy Hooves walked into the chamber with a misaligned but happy look on her face.
“Hiya!” she said.
“Howdy,” the Texan unicorn said with a weak smile as he summoned all of his willpower to carry on.
To his significant and wonderful surprise, the gray Pegasus mare turned out to be a model passenger by following his instructions and clearing the scan in a single pass. Officer Sergeant happily opened the stanchion cordon, allowing Derpy to exit. Pinkie, in the midst of a pat-down by Monitor, congratulated and tried to high-hoof her, but aborted at the screener’s objections.
‘Oh, the things we do for America,’ he surmised to himself.
Applejack, Applebloom & Big Macintosh versus the Bag Check
“Well that wasn’t so bad now, was it?” a hatless Applejack said optimistically to a bowless Applebloom.
Fulfilling the passive sweep for metal one at a time, the earth pony sisters trotted together to the end rollers of X-Ray lane #2. To either side, they had passed some pretty stark alternatives on display; to the left was a quarantined Rarity, still awaiting a pat-down and watching helplessly as her baggage slid to the very end of the opposite lane; to the right had been Big Macintosh going in for a Millimeter Wave scan after Derpy, his forelegs crashing back down with a reverberating clang when finished.
“Definitely not,” the Cutie Mark Crusader reaffirmed, waving supportively at the suspended Pinkie Pie.
Merging into a short line of ponies by the exit tunnel caging, Applejack grabbed her trusty brown Stetson out of a security bin, gently pushing the crown until it was against her skull. Next she scooped up the large, pink clip-on bow and lowered it onto the back of her sister’s head.
“Sure feels good to be back,” Applebloom said affectionately as the bendable metal fastener snapped into place against her red hair.
A big red, fetlock-covered hoof burst in between them, forcibly tipping a bin holding a sturdy workhorse collar. Its owner arched his head upward through the hoop, shaking his neck until the collar was fully in place.
“Eeyup,” Big Macintosh agreed, smiling down at them.
The reunited Apple Family shared a quick three-way hug before getting back to retrieving their divested property. It didn’t take long to realize that something was missing.
“Where are my saddlebags?” the cowgirl asked, looking frantically down the rollers then into the tunnel before receiving an answer she dreaded less than it being stolen, though not by much.
“Bag check, lane two!” Double Check’s voice called out from behind the dual-flat screen monitors.
Having no free screeners left, LTSO Buttered Bread stepped up to the plate. The blue-shirted, dual-striped unicorn levitated the connected bags in front as he walked towards the trio.
“Do these belong to anypony?” the screener inquired.
“We have to take a look inside for a suspected prohibited item,” he explained with ambiguity in order to gauge her reaction. “Please join me on the other side of that table once you’ve picked up everything else.”
Laying the saddlebags down on the same surface that’d been painstakingly sanitized from the previous incident, The Apple siblings gathered curiously behind the divider.
“Is there something in here that can hurt me during the search? A pair of pointy scissors, maybe?”
The advisement was a redundancy, as the unicorn didn’t intend to lay a hoof on the bag. It spilled out of him nonetheless due to countless rehearsals.
“Not that I’m aware of,” the Stetson-crowned mare stated confidently.
Enveloped in the same-colored aura as Bread’s horn, the saddlebags dually flipped open and a range of personal effects from all three family members emerged to form a ring surrounding their conveyance; a basic-designed cellular telephone; an address book; a mini first-aid kit; apples; an issue of "Seventeen" magazine; a paperback copy of "Sophie’s World"-
“There it is,” Lead Officer Bread said at last, holding up a reused glass jar filled with a rich brown liquid, fibrous sediment lurking on the bottom and the screw-top lid was covered in a plaid square of cloth fastened with string.
“Oh no, that’s Granny Smith’s homemade, hoof-crushed, 10-apple juice!” Applejack identified in dismay.
It was the Apple Family’s trademarked annual recipe for the holiday season, a delicious blend of ten separate apple varieties that accentuated each other, waltzing harmoniously across one’s taste buds. As the years took their toll on the elderly matriarch, she switched to a rolling pin, but the name, and more importantly the taste, went unchanged.
“How long have you been holding onto that?” Applebloom eyed the juice’s shade of brown suspiciously. “It doesn’t look too good anymore.”
Applejack wasn’t having it. She adored her grandmother’s handiwork in any form it took. The cowgirl’s stubborn mindset sank its teeth into the concept that she wasn’t giving the juice up without a fight. On the surface, her eyebrows were slanting into a deep frown.
“This stuff’s past our limit on non-medical liquids many times over. If it means that much, you can go back and check it with your carrier,” the lead rapidly informed, tilting his head at the checkpoint exit and away from that unnerving expression.
The “Main Six” cast member proceeded to glance around, though not for a clock; she didn’t need to check the time to know that suggestion was impossible. The object of her search was some form of backup. Directly opposite her at another secondary inspection zone, Spike was sitting in a chair, idly twiddling his thumbs. A uniformed earth pony mare was busy patting down Twilight Sparkle while a Pegasus stallion colleague was rummaging through her saddlebags.
Seeing the baby dragon and hearing a key phrase spoken by Buttered Bread suddenly clicked together into a brilliant idea. She might yet have her juice and drink it too.
“Please, sir, you have to let me keep it!” Applejack pleaded, reaching a hoof towards the floating bottle that quickly darted out of reach.
“And for what justifiable reason can I do that?” Lead Officer Bread shot back, looking shocked at the brazen attempt.
“I-it’s, it’s for my baby sister, Applebloom!” the element of honesty lied, opportunistically seizing the filly and cradling her tightly against her forelegs.
“She’s got a weak constitution for these long journeys overseas! Natural remedies like Granny’s juice are the only things that keep her from being bedridden when the homesickness sets in!”
The LTSO looked doubtfully from the wide grin of the conniving older sister to the reddening countenance of the younger one. Feeling that his discoursing ability had atrophied from too much micro-managing, he decided to play out this little drama.
“Do you have any medical documentation that outlines her condition?” Buttered asked, the corner of his mouth pinching into the faintest smirk.
“Er,” was Applejack’s dragging reply, no longer rocking Applebloom, still clutched within her forelegs.
“She’s lying!” Applebloom yelled, twisting her back and wriggling all four legs, trying to free herself. “We’ll only be in Canada for a few days, and I’m NOT a baby!”
Their towering brother was not the least bit invested in this spectacle. All he cared about was continuing his previous and very intriguing chapter of "Sophie’s World".
Fluttershy & Angel Bunny versus the Floor
Favorably passing both the metal detector and X-Ray’s judgment, the timid flier was mortified to learn that virtually everypony else had run afoul of the security apparatus’ various components.
“They’re still just sitting there,” Derpy Hooves reported, fluttering back down from her vantage point on the inert princesses.
“It’s never taken them this long to bypass before,” Fluttershy said, anxiously looking down the concourse, but their plane’s boarding gate was obscured from view by the crooked interior layout.
“I’m pretty it wasn’t because somepony decided to be stubborn,” Sweetie Belle opined pointedly as Rarity, apparently succumbing to claustrophobia, pawed agonizingly at her through the holding area door like a puppy.
“What can I say?” Pinkie Pie joined them, perfectly chipper after the pat-down. “When I’ve got the rhythm, there’s no stopping me!”
“EEP!” the yellow Pegasus suddenly cried, making the other TSA survivors jump.
Returning exhausted from his reconnaissance mission, Angel had pulled roughly at the pelt on her leg during a rapid ascent. He then hopped nimbly along her spine up to her neck. Tugging gingerly at a pawful of pink mane, Fluttershy craned her head to listen in to his urgent whispering, her teal eyes widening in unbridled panic.
“Girls, he said the plane is-!” she began, but a stallion’s booming announcement over the public intercom cut in and outmatched her.
Air Canada announces its final call for flight number five-five-three to Vancouver International. All ticketed and confirmed passengers must report to gate twenty-four for immediate boarding. Failure to appear may lead to the relinquishing of your seats for standby passengers. Repeat: This is the final call for Air Canada flight #553 to Vancouver at gate 24, thank you.
The entire “Friendship is Magic” ensemble had heard it, and it greatly exacerbated their predicaments; Spike leapt out of his chair, his feet stamping in place. Applebloom seized the width of Applejack’s tail over her shoulder wrenched it with all her might, its unblinking owner continued to stare down the lead screener. Even Princess Luna took to the sky, filling her lungs to unleash the “Royal Canterlot Voice” at the supervisors until Celestia’s reproachful look defused her.
“They’re going to leave without us!” Sweetie Belle squealed.
“What if they cut my cameo for being late?” the cross-eyed Pegasus slapped her forehooves against her cheeks. “I’ll never get another chance like this!”
It was these moments of sheer hopelessness that a more decisive version of Fluttershy stirred awake. Forgetting that Angel was still perched on her back, the terrified rabbit was clutching onto her mane for dear life as she rose up on her hind legs and brought her forward ones down in a loud synchronized clap, bringing her compatriots’ to order.
“Pinkie, you and Derpy take Sweetie and run to the gate; keep that plane grounded, no matter what!” she roared.
The once timid flier was bearing her teeth at them with the impression of a lioness. Rather than intimidating the trio, her visage rejuvenated them with clarity and focus.
“Aye-aye, El Capitan!” Pinkie Pie raised a hoof in salute, looking pleasingly determined.
“But what are you and Angel going to do?” the unicorn filly asked, nestled within the gentle grip of a now airborne Derpy Hooves.
The white-furred creature angled his nervous face out from behind Fluttershy’s, scared to contemplate what his new master would ask of him.
“We’re going to pick up whatever belongs to everypony else and meet you there,” she answered calmly and with a smile.
Wishing each other luck, the four ponies went their separate ways. The new cool, calm and collected element of kindness strolled back into the checkpoint, heading for X-Ray lane #1.
“You’ve got that lane over there, honey,” she advised Angel while turning to look at lane #2. “Make sure none of our friends’ things were left behind.”
Squeaking in acknowledgement, the rabbit jumped off and hit the ground running, scaling a pushcart stacked high with empty bins and jumping onto a loose train of them lying on the egress rollers.
The energy coursing through her was exquisite, her heart singing. Winking brightly in reassurance, her confidence exuded unto a distraught Rarity, who gave her a tearful smile through the glass in return.
‘Mrs. Fyre-Flye’s going to be so proud of me,’ Fluttershy envisioned amiably, wafting over and picking up Angel’s bassinet by the handle with her mouth.
She’d nearly abandoned it in her preceding state of uncertainty that was now long gone.
‘From this day forth, when the stakes are high and the situation looks bleak, everypony will turn to none other than Fluttershy to save the day!’
The “Main Six” cast member giggled and blushed at such a bold declaration coming from her; it felt so wrong, and yet so right. With Rarity’s purse tucked under one foreleg, she was lifting the unicorn’s suitcase off the rollers when a sharply-toned voice interrupted her daydreaming.
“That’s a lot of baggage for one pony. Are you sure all of those belong to you?”
The Pegasus abruptly looked up and was face-to-face with Eagle Eye, a unicorn with a forehoof frozen on the door handle, ready to let Rarity out when she made her observation.
Visualizing her astral body stepping out of her horseshoes and into those of the TSO, Fluttershy could reasonably perceive her own actions as suspicious; she’d been spotted returning to the checkpoint after apparently leaving empty-hoofed, and was now holding mismatching pieces of luggage.
Rarity was knocking and shouting through the door to explain that they were traveling together, but the uniformed pony ignored her completely.
“COME HERE, YOU!” somepony shouted, followed by a violent cascade of clatters from lane #2 that easily garnered the attention of all three mares.
Angel Bunny had been sifting randomly through the security bins spilling out the X-Ray tunnel, and like Fluttershy, he had earned the officers’ ire. The noise resulted when one of them tried to grab the rabbit but missed, instead colliding with the pushcart, sending bins airborne. Backup soon converged and started chasing him upstream. The pet taunted them by sticking his tongue out at them.
“STOP HIM! CATCH THAT RABBIT!” the pack leader yelled.
“Oh dear,” she muffled through clenched teeth with ears drooping, the hissing lioness within shrinking back into a mewing house cat.
Twilight Sparkle & Spike versus the Coordination Center (CC)
“What the hay is going on over there?!” an agitated Ice Water asked, catching only a fleeting glimpse of the madness next door.
With a lifting shrug of her forelegs, the LTSO resumed shadowing the screening of two TDC-referred passengers. Her subordinates, Officers Floater and Cake, were the ones doing the actual work. Just then, a static-laced transmission entered her right ear canal and she reached up to cover the left one to concentrate on the message.
“Patty, Lucky says she’s got another female assist in the holding area. I’ll wrap things up here while you go take care of that for me.”
The TSO’s head and neck sank in discontent. Scarcely minutes after completing one exhaustive pat-down was she now behind dispatched on another, the dual-striped earth pony interpreted from her expression.
“I’d do it myself if ‘Butters', the other lead, wasn’t still bogged down on a bag check. I need to keep an eye on the whole operation,” Ice rationalized. “I know you’re tired, and you’re getting first dibs when breaks start, now please, go.”
Unsmiling but placated, Patty Cake unhurriedly scraped the used nitrile gloves off one forehoof at a time, dropping them into a small garbage can tucked under the inspection table. She’d replace them with a clean pair after collecting the female assist.
LTSO Water stepped into the space left vacant by the departing screener, looking down at the small, square briefcase that had yet to be opened. A consistent pattering sound drew her attention to the fidgeting baby dragon, staring back imploringly.
“Got a plane to catch, Mr. Spike?” she added his name following a pause to recollect it from his boarding pass that laying on the table.
“Yes, they called for us over the PA just now!” blurted the unicorn labeled as ‘SPARKLE/TWILIGHT’ on her own barcoded document.
“I understand your concern, Ms. Sparkle,” the blue-shirted mare acknowledged coolly. “Fortunately, all that remains is to inspect your companion’s briefcase. You’ll be all clear and on your way momentarily.”
With two sets of three-digit combinations provided beforehand, the latches snapped up when the lead pushed inward on the unlocking buttons. Prying the topside half until the hinges swung into place, the lead was paralyzed to uncover a cache of massive, glimmering gemstones of every variety that had been piled inside, some clinking merrily into the metal table.
Unaware and uncaring that they served only as Spike’s sustenance, Ice Water metaphorically ate her previous words and literally tore the radio microphone off her shirt collar, pulling it right up against her snout for the clearest signal possible.
“So the State Department says they’re ‘A-OK’ then, huh?” Caesar Salad spoke into the telephone receiver against his left ear.
“Affirmative, sir,” the mare on the other end of the line replied.
The Pegasus supervisor looked tired but ecstatic. For the last 15 minutes, he’d been mulling over the legitimacy question of the Emissarius Phantasticus credentials, exhausting every available resource. Now with the mystery solved, his jubilance spilled into his voice.
“Minnie and I really appreciate your help with this thing. Sorry for waking you guys up,”
“Don’t mention it,” she laughed. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”
“You too,” STSO Salad said before lowering the receiver back onto its cradle and turning to his unicorn colleague.
“Our princesses are golden. I’m off to let them in now.”
“Roger, I’ll hold down the fort. Holler if they chew you out for the wait,” Minestrone said, levitating the black wallet cases under each of his wings, which folded shut beneath them.
Caesar Salad had just climbed down from the “crow’s nest” when Ice Water’s harried voice barged into both supervisors’ headsets. Waving the Pegasus on his way, STSO Soup listened intently to her junior’s report. As soon as it finished, she snatched up the telephone receiver and hit the “REDIAL” button.
“Coordination Center, Magnet Tom speaking,” a stallion’s voice said this time.
“Magnet, this is STSO Minnestrone Soup from Terminal 2. I need you contact CBP. I have suspected undeclared monetary instruments, exceeding ten-thousand in U.S. currency, going overseas.”
Rainbow Dash & Scootaloo versus the Breach
“I’m telling you the truth, lady; I don’t have anything on me!” Rainbow Dash yelled shakily. “Just give me another chance and I’ll prove it!”
“You’ve had twenty passes through the WTMD already,” Patty Cake uttered with as much patience she could muster. “Even the most lenient observer would be convinced otherwise.”
The spectrum-maned Pegasus was most unwillingly allowing herself to be escorted to an unoccupied secondary inspection zone by the blue-shirted earth pony; the dangling carrots were her own backpack and ZERO Halliburton suitcase. Bringing up the rear was Scootaloo, snickering evilly just out of earshot of either mare. The filly was no longer chewing any gum, but Rainbow had been too absorbed in her inexplicable misfortune to notice.
“Stand on the black-and-yellow mat on the other side of the table facing your baggage, please,” Officer Cake directed as she heaved the backpack and the suitcase onto the worktable, the latter with difficulty that brought respite to the brash delinquent.
The screener launched into her mandated breakdown of the pat-down as she reached into the table’s drawer and fastened a new pair of gloves on her forehooves. Content with being ignored, Scootaloo excused herself and relocated behind the zone’s steel-framed glass rampart to watch the rest of the show unfold.
‘I’ll come clean with Rainbow once we get to Canada. This’ll teach her a lesson that when you prank ponies, expect revenge pranks in turn,’ she thought satisfactorily.
With their preparations evidently complete, Rainbow Dash stood up straight on her hind legs, her forelegs spread out as far she could manage, while Patty Cake trotted up behind her, rising into a similar elongated stance and reached her gloved forehooves towards the tomboy’s mane.
‘Yup, she’ll understand, once she’s calmer.’
“Calm” was the most inconceivable word that could be used to describe Rainbow Dash’s current state. Her haunches ached from the prolonged unnatural pose, her heart pumping at a numbing rate. She was hyperventilating and growing dizzy, her hearing and eyesight were running amok amidst a sensory overload; alarms sounding, machines humming and more amplified a hundredfold.
Beholding her costars, each and every one of them had been invariably entangled in this diabolical rat maze of security, just as she had. Then she looked to the dark globes of cameras hanging ominously from lampposts scattered throughout the checkpoint.
‘Somepony’s watching all of us, watching me. They’re probably laughing, too. What a riot this must be to them,’ she thought savagely.
‘Maybe they’ll record this to watch at home. Maybe they’ll sell it to the tabloids. Maybe-’
The Pegasus’ worst possible fear had now revealed itself, choking out the last semblances of higher thinking. She’d read the sensational rumors and groundless insinuations about her very identity. Unfazed by them at first, their persistence had worn her armor down, and at this precipice of mental instability, they pierced at her like a hail of arrows.
‘Not...gonna…HAPPEN!'
“GRAAAAH!!!” Rainbow Dash screamed bloody murder, her wings shooting open, smacking Patty Cake bodily against the glass, terrifying the living daylights out of Scootaloo and everypony else within the vicinity.
The Pegasus then leapt into the air and bolted into the concourse, fixated on nothing else besides getting aboard her flight and getting as far away from this place as possible.
“Br-bruh, BREACH! WE’VE GOT A BREACH!!! CODE BRAVO, CODE BRAVO!!!” Officer Cake alerted the entire checkpoint.
“BREACH, BREACH!”
“CODE BRAVO!”
“STOP SCREENING, FREEZE AND SEAL!”
The place devolved into pandemonium as the rallying cries echoed throughout the terminal’s cavernous interior. Officers jammed the metal detectors and scanners with their own spread-eagled bodies, while others charged in after the fugitive. Panic buttons for police assistance were pushed; radio and phone calls ceaselessly kept coming and going at blinding speed.
“Subject is described as four feet tall and light blue-!” one TSO began to relay to his colleagues when another interrupted
“Look, look, over there! Is that him?!”
Acting first and thinking second, a quartet of them had aggressively blockaded someone matching Rainbow Dash’s basest description; a door-shaped imaginary friend with two closely set eyes and a wide mouth. He was wearing a gray, black-banded fedora, a floating white shirt collar with a dark tie.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Blooregard Q. Kazoo said, holding up his fingerless hands. “Easy fellas, I had nothing to do with this. Trust me; I learned not to mess with security after last time.”
Applejack capitalized on Rainbow’s distraction by grabbing the homemade apple juice out of Buttered Bread’s magic aura, twisting the top off and downed all of it within seconds.
“Ha, URP!” she belched, slamming the empty jar onto the table and wiping her mouth clean with the back of one forehoof, smiling at the stunned lead.
Caesar Salad had returned the EP credential wallets to their rightful owners and was pulling the door open for them enter when the breach hit. He threw the door shut, inches from Princess Luna’s face, twisted the key to relock it and scrambled back to the “crow’s nest” to help coordinate the incident response.
The midnight alicorn turned her incredulous expression to her laughing older sister.
“You knew we weren’t going to make it to Canada today, didn’t you?” she asked the first question that popped into her head, to which more of Celestia’s laughter was her answer.
From within the bowels of the airport complex, Tipped Scales galloped at full speed towards Terminal 2, having been informed of the breach by the LAXPD.
‘Now you’ve done it, girl!’ the gray-maned agent raged, the fire within growing higher and feeding more steam to the pistons she felt in her legs.
‘If my latte gets cold or somepony eats my croissant before I get back, I’m going to tan your hide!!!’
Bearing her teeth in a demonic snarl, she ducked her head, bit down on the overlapping lapel of her trench coat and pulled it open. Underneath, her FBI badge and credentials were swinging from a leather display case around her neck. Once at the very base of the staircase leading up to the checkpoint, she jumped into the air, the coat falling away and revealing a pair of Pegasus wings. Special Agent Scales soared towards the exit, slowing down enough for a startled Time Runner to adequately register her status as an airport first responder and permit her to continue.
Far down at the very end of the stalled passenger queue, among a long line of grumbling passengers, Discord was looking rather jovial.
“Ahhh,” the Draconequss breathed in and released. “I just love the smell of chaos in the morning!”
Aftermath (Mrs. Fyre-Flye & Whoopee Stew versus the Inspector)
“We’re pros that this,” she said. “You don’t have to escort us,” she said. Why, oh why, did I ever listen to her?
Half past 8 PM that evening, Mrs. Fyre-Flye was anguishing in silence over this fateful decision. Her husband, Whoopee Stew, was sitting beside her and was rubbing her back consolingly with a foreleg. Outside, the converted Foster’s bus was haphazardly parked at the 1st floor curbside of Terminal 2; the right front tire had jumped the sidewalk, precariously tipping the vehicle upwards.
Night had fallen long before everything had been said and done with regards to the incident, and the former executive producer had been summoned back to the airport to take everypony home. Detained and under fierce watch by an amalgamation of local and federal authorities, members of the “Friendship is Magic” ensemble were in varying portraits of distress. As the red-maned alicorn walked down the lineup, signing their release forms, some of them glanced up before ashamedly bowing their heads.
Twilight Sparkle and Spike were conjoined in a tight embrace, the chain linking a pair of metal restraint cuffs around her foreleg and his wrist rattled with every hiccup as the baby dragon cried his eyes out.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” the unicorn whispered soothingly over and over, brushing the fins atop of his head and dripping tears onto him from her own flowing eyes.
A U.S. Customs and Border Protection officer pony in a navy blue uniform shirt and matching baseball cap stood next to them, holding the gemstone briefcase in his mouth by the handle and trying his best to stay reticent from the tragic scene.
Rarity was trembling and staring wildly from one wall to another, expecting them to close in on her and reform the cramped dimensions of the holding area she’d gotten so intimately familiar with.
“So small, so close, can’t, breathe,” the fashionable unicorn shuddered as she relived her traumatic minutes in captivity, prompting Sweetie Belle to roll her eyes behind her sister’s back.
Pinkie Pie and Derpy Hooves were penalized for reopening the jetway door after it had closed, then jumping onto the tarmac and trying to flag down the taxiing aircraft in the same manner one would do for a bus.
“Well it seemed like a good idea at the time. It was my only idea too!” Pinkie said, laughing.
Applejack was lying flat on her back, her four legs dangling in the air. Her green-tinged face was panting, sweating profusely when the sadistic beast that was her digestive tract decided she wasn’t repentant enough, and gave another horrible lurch.
“HNNNGH!” Applejack yelled through clenched teeth, her head and legs twitching and curving inward.
“I told you that juice looked spoiled,” Applebloom, brutally reminded her, setting aside her issue of "Seventeen" and digging through the first aid kit for another round of anti-diarrhea pills.
“It serves you right for lying, and calling me a baby.”
“Eeyup,” Big Macintosh added sagely, rereading a reverent passage from "Sophie’s World" about the importance of honesty and respect.
Angel Bunny was furiously rattling the barred door of a large, plastic animal cage to no avail. The rabbit had been sentenced to this demeaning incarceration upon capture, and the yellow Pegasus was dealt a police citation for the unruly animal and flimsy bassinet.
And far off against the wall, with the most officers encompassing her, Rainbow Dash’s sharp tongue was brewing up a storm, her only weapon left with her wings tied down with rope and hoofcuffed into immobility.
“C’mon, let the punishment fit the crime! My lawyer’s going to hear about the intimidation and emotional distress you’re putting me through!”
Accepting a portable metal detector wand brought to her by a checkpoint screener, Tipped Scales motioned to two unicorn LAXPD officers to come closer.
“Use your magic to get her off the ground while I sweep her with this,” she said, clutching the wand in her hooves.
Rainbow, still marred by paranoia, saw only an imminent physical threat.
“P-police brutality!” she yelped, struggling to right herself back onto her feet and escape, hoofcuffs be darned. “Police brutality!”
“Oh shut up, you idiot!” the Pegasus said before biting down on the handle bit, the now active detector sticking out laterally from her mouth.
With the tomboy levitated and pulled taut by her uniformed counterparts, Special Agent Scales trotted on a parallel course, running the wand over and under her, from snout to tail. Then the detector beeped and blinked red on the tail. Pinpointing the source of the alarm within the multi-colored hair, the FBI agent dropped the wand and combed through it, uncovering an anomaly that she ripped out without hesitation.
“YOW!” Rainbow Dash exclaimed.
Ignoring her, Scales pawed at the gooey, pink adhesive surface, pulling back its layers to reveal a ball of crumpled aluminum foil.
‘Chewing gum wrappers, rolled up and caked with the gum itself to stick to somepony,’ the agent deduced.
“I wonder,” she said, walking into Rainbow’s line of sight and holding it up to her, “who could, or would, hide this in your tail.”
The livid prankster immediately began to struggle violently against the restraints and magic auras.
“Tell me! TELL ME WHO IT WAS! I’LL BITE THEIR LEGS OFF!”
Special Agent Scales glanced over to Scootaloo, obviously the only pony who could be pegged with the means, motive, and opportunity. Sure enough, the Pegasus filly was curled up into a fetal position, rocking to and fro, and most likely contemplating her own mortality.
‘A mother’s work is never done,’ Tipped Scales thought resignedly.
“Alright, everypony,” let’s go, Mrs. Fyre-Flye said exhaustedly 10 minutes later, thinking that the worst was now officially behind them, until a new voice called out to the group.
“Just a minute, ma’am,” said a fast-approaching unicorn mare wearing a gray windbreaker jacket with an embroidered badge on it.
Leaning over her, the former executive producer could see upside down capital lettering emblazoned upon the back of the jacket that read “TSA INSPECTOR”.
“I regret to inform you that because of your acquaintances’ well-documented history of infractions, the regulatory division has seen fit to recommend each of their names for inclusion into the No Fly List. You will receive written confirmation of this recommendation in the mail within five to ten business days. Bear in mind that final adjudication results will not be released, but the case against them is substantial. You might have to expect an unfavorable outcome.”
Delivered without giving her name, and turning away without a farewell, the inspector’s report left the entire group devastated without precedent. The No Fly List, a permanent and virtually irrevocable debarment from commercial air travel within U.S. boundaries, was now hanging over their heads, and they’d never know when the call was made to let it fall.
Banned from flying, forever? What will happen when Hasbro hears about this? This could mean the end of “Friendship is Magic”, cut down before its prime.
“Ma’am,” Twilight Sparkle looked up at Mrs. Fyre-Flye with eyes that stared the breadth of the known living universe into her own.
“What’s going to happen to us?”
It was a question she couldn’t answer, neither with certainty or speculation. It was excruciating to dwell on the enshrouded future that lay in store for them.
I don’t know, and it doesn’t matter. What matters is the love I hold for all of you, and the love you hold for each other. Let it be your guiding light in the years to come. Even if you drift apart in finding you own paths, the light you keep shining will lead you back together.
These wonderful children of her imagination, springing from her mind to take on a life of their own will prevail in the challenges to come. That was the most certain thing in the world right now.
Flaring out her enormous wings, Mrs. Fyre-Flye drew Whoopee Stew and the entire character ensemble into a collective hug.
8:43 PM PST (11:43 PM EST) Wednesday, January 7th, 2015 An undisclosed hotel room, Daly City, California, U.S.A. Hungry, sleep-deprived, but feeling happier than I ever would’ve imagined at the end of this long journey
Thank you very much for reading “Teamwork iS Awesome”. I certainly hope you enjoyed it. Stay tuned for two special endings I’m preparing next.
Based on the characters created by Lauren Faust, and the show “My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic”, owned by Hasbro Incorporated.
[LEGAL DISCLAIMER] This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
======================== Prologue: Making Reservations ========================
11:22 AM PST Saturday, November 3rd, 2007 An undisclosed residential address, Los Angeles County, California, U.S.A. Sleeping in
‘These wonderful children of her imagination, springing from her mind to take on a life of their own.’
The words swam serenely like a school of fish through the inky depths of his sub-consciousness. Engulfed and diffused in each current that whisked him into a new, more unusual vision, the parts eventually regrouped and became whole, except more coherent and prominent than before.
Then he felt the wings again.
A pair of glowing white, feather-coated limbs, belonging to some impossibly large bird, reached out from behind and closed around him, firmly pushing his body against their owner in what was unmistakably a hug. Instead of more feathers, the animal’s torso against his back was covered in a soft pelt. It heaved back and forth with deep breaths and the occasional spastic jerk.
Droplets spattering into his long hair and shirt informed him that it was crying. His head brushed against the neck as he craned upwards, but he was only able to see its lower jaw, pointed horn, and vibrant red hair looming over him. The lips were curled upwards in a smile, but the tears still fell upon him like rain. The horse’s winged embrace inundated him with such warmth and tenderness, the mattress he was laying on felt like an abrasive and cold slab of concrete in comparison.
That, he’d suppose later, what was finally woke him up.
Peeling his bleary eyes open to morning light poking through the closed shades, Craig McCracken yawned and stretched his arms as he lay on his front. One arm shot out over the edge of the bed, while the other swept across the linen surface and into a recently vacated indentation. Turning his head all the way to the right, he could see that his wife, Lauren, was indeed out and about. Through the open door, a symphony of noises hinted at frantic movement downstairs.
Marshalling control of his legs, he swung them over his side of the mattress and hoisted into an upright sitting position. Yawning again and scratching through his dark, shoulder-length mane, Craig looked over at the angled drawing table and chair in the corner of the bedroom; one of several both artists had set up around the house for whenever creative inspiration struck. Smiling, he stood up and walked barefooted to it. The table was cradling an open notebook, and on the current page was a sketch of his newest character; a furred and slender alien male, one sneaker-wearing foot kicked out in front of the other. Clutched in his arms was a crooked walking stick, ending in a twisted knob that stood taller than he, even with his wide-brimmed and lop-sided star hat.
“Good morning, Wander,” his creator addressed that easy smile.
First conceived months before, Craig was already putting him through the convention circuit to generate marketability. His autograph booths and personal website could be found stocked with t-shirts, inked prints and the like, featuring the amicable galactic nomad under the title “Wander Over Yonder”. This independent business model was actually inspired after the one Lauren pioneered for her own franchise: “Milky Way and the Galaxy Girls”. In fact, he remembered that today marked a crucial meeting for her to pitch the dolls to a major distributor. She’d remained tight-lipped about the details for weeks, but she promised to tell him how it went when she got back. The reception for Wander has been lukewarm, but he remained optimistic on the long-term goal of helming a new animated series based on his adventures.
‘She believed and persevered with her idea, and looks like it’s finally paying off. Plenty of time to develop this little guy and his universe while “Foster’s” runs its course.’
On the air, “Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends” was over the hump on its fifth season, and it wouldn’t be long before the husband-and-wife team would be engrossed on production for the sixth, so they used the precious free time they had left to flesh out other projects. Even an extra hour gained from Daylight Savings tomorrow will be put to good use.
‘I think we’ll end it at six, just like “PPG”; leave it behind on a high note, before it gets too stale.’
A loud crash and shouted expletive from the living room below startled McCracken, turning away from the sketch at last and proceeding towards the door. He’d better take a shower and get dressed before going downstairs and helping Lauren find what she’s looking for.
Closing the bathroom door behind him, he undressed and stepped into the knee-high tub. He yanked the curtains shut and turned the combined temperature and flow control handle to a very high setting. The latest cold front to befall the Southland was nothing compared to his native Pennsylvania, but living in LA had spoiled and robbed the cartoonist of that perspective. The massaging triple jet of piping hot water and enveloping steam felt luxurious on his bare skin. He liberally cracked his stiff joints, beads of water streaming through his hair and down his face, pulling at his eyelashes with a heated weight that reminded him of tears.
The dreams suddenly returned to Craig. He stood there motionless in the tub, ignoring the showerhead’s pounding torrent on his skull. Staring light-years into the tiled wall before him, he could see himself in the driver’s seat of a familiar bus, the spindly struts of LAX’s Theme Building, then a magnificent winged unicorn with a garnet mane and tail, its sparkling topaz eyes stared romantically at him.
“Thanks again, Stewie. At least you’ve got a fallback career if Wander clinches your retirement.”
Before he could absorb the mere fact that the creature could speak, let alone her words, his own voice faded in from somewhere over his shoulder.
“Who says I’m retired?”
‘What the heck is going on? I didn’t say that just now, did I?’ Craig’s essence inquired of itself.
He tried to look around and locate the impostor, but his head felt locked in place as if in an unseen vice. Trying to flex his other limbs was just as futile. The cartoonist realized he was not in his own body anymore, but in another that was fundamentally different to his human frame and left him utterly transfixed in this scene.
The female unicorn smiled blushingly then began leaning her head down towards him, eyes smoothly closing and lips puckering. Overcome with revulsion, he pulled away with all his spiritual will, desperate to extradite himself from this living prison.
‘Ugh, horse kissy-face! No, don’t come any closer! Let me outta here! LET ME OUT!’
Like a sprung trapdoor, the earth gave way beneath Craig’s feet. Plummeting too rapidly even for fear to register, the real world came rushing back to him, where he lost his balance on the wet tub floor and fell yet again, his brain manufacturing a Looney Tune-ish *VEEP* sound effect on the way down.
Slamming onto his right thigh and buttock, he lay in a crumpled heap, one foot sticking uselessly out of the tub, the water continuing to pour on him unabated. Craig groaned and clasped his hand on the burning thigh. He shook his head, his scraggy mane smacking him on each cheek, to purge the last traces of the strange hallucination. He then held up his left hand before his eyes, bending his fingers into a closed fist and unfurling them as many times he deemed necessary.
“No more hooves,” he said conclusively, almost calmly in spite of his injury.
That’s what his hands had felt like in the dream; balled shut and fingerless, exactly like a pair of dense horse’s hooves.
“…Okay up there?” Lauren’s distant voice floated in.
Apparently his impact on the second floor had alarmed her.
“Fine, I’m fine!” Craig strained to be heard over the running water and protests of his inflamed thigh. “Be out in a minute!”
Climbing out of the bathtub with some difficulty, he dried himself off with a towel before wrapping it around his waist and shuffling back into the bedroom for some clothes. The cartoonist threw on his signature dark denim jeans and plain black t-shirt. Slipping his feet into a pair of nighttime slippers, he picked himself off the bed for the second time and made his arduous way downstairs.
Craig descended the final step into the living room, which was the epicenter of a huge mess. Couch cushions, pillows, and bed sheets were strewn about. On the coffee table were the abandoned remains of a small junk food buffet for two; a large open pizza box with ample slices covered in waxy cheese, half-empty bowls of popcorn, a plateful of stripped chicken wing bones, and cups of flat soda. Limping forward and leaning towards the middle of the table, he picked up a plastic DVD case that was perched atop of a stack of brainstorming notebooks like some precious idol.
It was a copy of the live-action “Transformers” movie, with Optimus Prime’s CGI head looking out from the cover art. Having missed out on the theatrical release in July due to their work, the two producers decided to have their own release party.
‘Man, we really let ourselves go,’ he thought, impressively surveying the cornucopia of calories and pinching the muffin top bulging over his jeans. ‘It was a good movie though.’
The door to an adjacent room bumped open and Craig turned to see Lauren Faust stepping out sideways, an otherwise comically large pile of paper leaning in from her arms, obscuring all but the one eye she was using to watch her step. Blocking out the resulting twinge of pain, he hurried forward and lifted half the burdensome load off to reveal the fatigued yet beautiful face of his wife.
“Morning, hun,” Faust said gratefully, leaning over the papers to kiss him, to which McCracken had to turn himself sideways to meet.
“Morning,” her husband returned after parting lips then resuming his focus on the papers. “You’re not brining all of this to the meeting, are you?”
“No, they’re not what I’m looking for.” she said, dropping hers into the couch with a muffled thump.
Straightening up to her full height, she exhaled forcefully and flicked the bangs of her long red hair out of her eyes. She observed Craig’s limp as he lowered his half into a kitchen chair.
“I heard the impact from my fabric room. What happened?”
“Oh, I went in for a shower ended it on a slide,” he said, his right hand again rubbed the tender hip and buttock. “It wasn’t serious.”
“Ouch,” she winced. “I’ll find you an icepack to ease the swelling before I head out.”
Lauren turned left and dashed back into her home office, the walls and desk piled high with the various tools of her profession. She pulled open the desk’s junk drawer and began to rummage through it.
“You should probably take it easy on that leg altogether!” she said loudly though the open doorway.
“Will do!” Craig shouted back. “Right after I’ve had my breakfast.”
Obtaining a ceramic bowl and a box of cereal from separate overhead cabinets, he placed them on the table. He then picked up a clean spoon from the drying rack by the sink and opened the fridge. The cooled shelves were mostly empty except for some Chinese food boxes from who know how long ago; another tribute to how busy the two producers had been recently. Retrieving the milk jug with barely one serving left, he closed the door with a snap.
“What’s left to find, the Galaxy Girl dolls?”
“No, they’re already in the car. Just some descriptions and settings for the pitch bible,” Lauren said, followed by another avalanche of papers.
“Argh, I was working on them last night before the movie! They must be close by!”
McCracken’s hand froze then tipped the jug back upright, its contents splashing hollowly. Deserting the dry cereal bowl, he hobbled out of the kitchen.
‘Could they be in one of those notebooks on the den table?’ he thought.
Standing before the unhealthy spread once more, he brushed aside the plate of chicken bones, picked up the first book and flipped through its pages. Finding nothing, he tossed it onto the couch and seized two more. The one on his right had an angled tab sticking out from the bottom edge. He propped it open and discovered the material his wife was tearing the place up for, and beside it, was a rectangular folded letter.
‘What’s this?’
His instinctive curiosity overriding any desire to respect Lauren’s privacy, he titled the top flap open with an index finger to take a peek at the sender’s information. He gasped sharply upon realizing that he’d seen too much. He slipped the letter out of the notebook, stuffing it in a pants pocket and pulled his shirt over the exposed end.
“F-FOUND IT, HONEY!” Craig projected nervously into the dark cave of her office.
Immediately she squeezed her way out again, smiling and holding and an icepack in her hand.
“My hero!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him, forgetting entirely about his injured thigh until the couple found themselves collapsing backwards into the couch, emitting simultaneous cries of agony and alarm.
“Oops, sorry,” Lauren whispered to a groaning Craig, whom she was leaning over on her knees. “Let me get that ice for you.”
She stood back up and accepted the notebook he held out to her. Next, she jogged over to the freezer, plucked rounded ice cubes from a tray, dropped them into the nylon-covered sack and screwed the cap shut.
“Does that feel any better?” she asked her husband after pressing the chilled bag over his right thigh.
“Yeah, thanks,” he answered, replacing Lauren’s hand on the icepack with his own. “Not quite the bedside manner I’d expect, thou-”
Before McCracken could even finish his snarky quip, she swooped in, placing her hand on the back of his head and locked lips again, almost furiously than last time. As their kiss endured, they tilted their heads alternately to take turns breathing, the warm exhales deepening their passion. When they finally broke apart, Faust was blushing and lightly sticking her tongue out at the cartoonist’s face.
“Then if I were you, I’d expect less and give more.”
“Think I can get a prescription for that?” Craig teased back, not one to permit being outwitted.
“You big dork,” his wife said, laughing.
A wayward glance at her wristwatch, however, quickly stowed her senses of humor and patience.
“Oh shoot, I’ve gotta run!” Lauren panicked, rolling back straight and then stepping widely over her husband’s prone legs before heading for the front door.
“If all ends well, I’m buying dinner tonight!”
“Okay,” he called out from the couch, “but no more Chinese food.”
Pausing over the open threshold with the notebook held in one hand and her key ring in the other, she turned back to give him a smug grin.
“I said I was buying, didn’t I? Prepare to be surprised. Ciao.”
And with that, she stepped into the bright midday sunlight and locked the door shut behind her. Craig scoffed and shifted the icepack lower down. In his experience, surprises didn’t tend to be good, so the farewell was probably a hint at more Italian food, which didn’t seem very appetizing either with the dried-out husk of a pizza lying before him on the coffee table.
‘Surprises are meant to be spoiled,’ the cartoonist’s outlook tended to be.
"And speaking of spoiled surprises…”
He reached behind and grabbed the crushed letter he’d found inside the notebook. Flattening it against his palms as best he could, he reopened it completely and began to read the main body of the message.
Friday, October 19th, 2007
Dear Ms. Faust,
We at Hasbro would like to thank you for your continued interest in partnership with our company for the development of your intellectual property: “Milky Way and the Galaxy Girls”. The overall concept of your characters and their world was found intriguing and well received by the executives at our Pawtucket headquarters.
I’m pleased to invite you to a pitch meeting at the offices of our subsidiary, Hasbro Studios, in Los Angeles, California, on the 3rd day of November, 2007, at 2 PM Pacific. This meeting will grant you an opportunity to formally present your materials and ideas for a non-syndicated, direct-to-video animated series based on your “Galaxy Girls”, to myself and several colleagues.
Please arrive at the address listed above 15 minutes prior to the meeting start time, which itself is expected to last a minimum of 2 hours. Direct parking accommodations at the office have been made in advance. Simply pull your vehicle up to the garage entrance and present the attendants with your current, unexpired driver’s license. They will verify your appointment and permit you entry.
I’m looking forward to meeting you and witnessing the boundless enthusiasm you have for the potential of your wonderful characters.
Sincerely,
Lisa Licht Senior Vice President, Entertainment and Licensing Hasbro Inc.
McCracken at last understood why Lauren had been so careful with this information. Hasbro was only the world’s second largest toy company, and to get consideration from the execs for her ideas had to be exciting. Lauren probably insisted on watching the “Transformers” movie the night before as reference for her pitch.
BOOM
A bolt of lightning zigzagged through his head, and a rattling thunderclap followed. The dreams resurged for a second time, more visceral than ever. The scenes displayed on his closed eyelids and were rolling past as if on a high-speed film reel.
‘I’m a pony, in a world full of ponies. I’m driving a bunch of them to the airport because they’ve got a plane to catch, and a TV show to make. It’s a show that my wife began and then left, but she’s still helping them along because she loves them dearly; children from her imagination, springing from her mind to take on a life of their own.’
Craig McCracken was seeing the future, or someone’s twisted portrayal of the future. It isn’t “Milky Way and the Galaxy Girls” that will get green-lighted. Instead, Hasbro plans to ask Lauren what she can do with their “My Little Pony” brand name. This meeting will set her on the path to making something no one’s ever seen before. It’s going to spread like wildfire; just as fast and uncontrollable. Fan works, conventions, even feature-length films are just the beginning. The path beyond 2017 became enshrouded, but signs of “Friendship is Magic” and its followers persisting showed through.
*Crunch-crunch-crunch*
Someone else was in the house with him; someone eating. Dropping the Hasbro letter from his shaking hands, Craig slowly turned his head to the right. At the kitchen table, Lauren’s work papers were gone, and sitting in their place, eating from the bowl of cereal he’d poured for himself, was “somepony” he’d seen in his dreams. The cartoonist’s eyes went wide enough for the whites to surround his brown irises, his jaw falling open like a dead weight.
“P-PPP-PUH-PINKIE PIE?!” his trembling lips managed to say her name as recalled from memory.
The pink earth pony mare blinked, swallowing a mouthful of flakes before turning her head left to stare back. The cartoonist and cartoon character looked at each other for several very uncomfortable seconds before the latter smiled widely and gave a friendly wave.
[LEGAL DISCLAIMER] This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Based on the characters created by Lauren Faust, and the show “My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic”, owned by Hasbro Incorporated.
============================ Special Ending: Time for a Vacation ============================
12:58 PM PST Saturday, January 17th, 2015 Another undisclosed residential address, Los Angeles County, California, U.S.A. Breaking the Season 2 moratorium
He never would’ve thought it’d take this long.
Sitting uncomfortably in a metal chair with one foot resting on the bed, James Anon, AKA FestOfAmerican’s attention was entirely focused on the screen of his integrated television and DVD player; a modest setup when compared to the home theater he’d constructed years ago. Lying flat against the TV’s base was the open case of “My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Season Two”. Disc 4 was currently inserted in the player.
When the end credits for “Hurricane Fluttershy” began to roll, the author hit the “MUTE” button on the remote, arose from his chair, stretched out his arms and gave a satisfied groan. It had been a terrific episode, and as always, he could take away sound values about confidence and perseverance that Fluttershy discovered for herself. Notoriously impatient for most things in life, FOA admitted that this episode had been well worth the wait.
It was finally over. The 34-month long, self-imposed moratorium on continuing “Friendship is Magic” where he’d officially left off. “Dragon Quest” was the last premiere he caught, just days after which he moved to California. Inspired to revitalize the stalled, months-old original draft of “Teamwork iS Awesome”, James didn’t bother getting premium channels for the Hub with his cable internet, and ignored “Hurricane Fluttershy” and subsequent episodes when they were still posted freely on YouTube.
He wished he could you tell you the devotion to his art was so strong that he never flaked, but spoilers were all but unavoidable online, and he’d tuned in during Season 3 when he learned about Trixie’s and Discord’s return in “Magic Duel” and “Keep Calm and Flutter On”, respectively. Nonetheless, after rereading the final chapter many times, the author was confident that the story’s overall integrity had been maintained. In fact, the synchronizing of each character set, as they fell victim to different stages of security, turned out much better than he’d hoped for, or any of the few publicly released writings under different handles.
The credits had finished, and the opening scene to “Ponyville Confidential” was fading in. FestOfAmerican aimed the remote and turned the TV off. Upon finishing one last special chapter for “TiSA”, he planned to binge on the rest of the unseen episodes, including seasons 3 & 4. It would be just like his stumbling into the herd in August 2011, with only a month to get up to speed before the next season began. He almost felt sorry for the rest of the fandom as it shriveled in the long wait for season 5.
Dropping the remote on the bed, James turned around, picked up the chair and brought it to the worktable where a Sony VAIO UX micro PC and wireless keyboard sat waiting. With Vista onboard, it ran slightly faster than a snail, but the device stepped up when his failing laptop was decommissioned. Its functionality was hardy and stubborn just like its owner. The hard drive was nearing full capacity, however, so he’d have to replace it sooner or later.
He lifted the tiny power switch with a thumb and waited for the boot-up process to complete before logging in and opening the Word document titled: “TiSA Ending – Time for a Vacation”.
The ponies’ story has been told. Now it was the author’s turn.
Creation
“Teamwork iS Awesome” was first created on October 3rd, 2011. After weeks of fruitless tinkering with downloaded episodes, I became disheartened when my projects just weren’t measuring up to the videos and animations others were putting out. Writing has always been my strongest form of creative expression, but working with “Friendship is Magic” presented an interesting challenge; a lighthearted, mythological comedy ensemble was quite a departure for someone used to composing detail-oriented, science-fiction and action narratives, a preference which was most noticeable in the “Rainbow Snow” chase sequence.
Sampling the stories of others helped broadened my perspective on what I might be able to accomplish these characters, and then there was “Cupcakes” by Sergeant Sprinkles, a real stomach-turning introduction to the dark side of the fandom. And unbelievably around the same time, I learned about the TSA’s latest public relations headache.
(If you want proof that the truth can be stranger than fiction, then here it is)
That October evening, the two notions crashed and merged together into the story idea I’d been looking for; something bold, simple yet obvious. Being an avid traveler, an airport is literally a home away from home; I’ve eaten and slept in them, and occasionally I’ve flown out of them. The ceaseless flow of activity is intoxicating. Because everyone has somewhere else to go, nothing stands still, not even the terminals which are constantly undergoing renovations. The TSA officers sometimes recognized me as one of their regulars, which is surprising when I think of how many faces they see every day.
“Friendship is Magic” is a joint American/Canadian production. With the writers based in Los Angeles, and the voice acting and animation done in Vancouver, I envisioned the “Main Six” going through those same security ritual together in order to continue working on the show, eventually expanding to the final group of 15 characters. I felt a respectful depiction of Lauren Faust to guide them along was absolutely imperative, given how much of her hopes, dreams, and talent she’d poured into the show. The name, “Mrs. Fyre-Flye”, was borrowed from her deviantART page. I would like to give very special thanks to Equestria Daily for their comprehensive September 2011 interview and retrospective with Ms. Faust. It was tremendously helpful in my preliminary research for “TiSA”.
The first draft featured the cast arriving at LAX curbside sometime between the airing of “The Return of Harmony, Part 2” and “Lesson Zero”, the latter one they were preparing to film. It fell into a rut during Pinkie Pie’s introduction, probably due to not understanding her, or any of the other ponies well enough to portray them faithfully in my prose. Craving fresh ideas, and uncertain where to get them, EQD once again pointed the way, to the north.
Diving in
The reason that January 7th, 2012, is such a pivotal date in the story is that it marks my diving into the fandom, even though I’d deny my bronyhood a while longer. BronyCon Winter 2012 was being hosted at the Hotel Pennsylvania in New York City. I’d never been to a convention before, but with Ashleigh Ball, Andrea Libman, and Nicole Oliver booked to appear as guests, it was an opportunity to do something extraordinary. If I was to properly convey my gratitude for their excellent work on “Friendship is Magic”, I wouldn’t be giving any pony-related gifts, as they’d likely gotten a lot of those already. Instead of bringing attention to myself, I would usher it onto an entire city, an impression that wouldn’t be readily forgotten.
“Operation: Orange Bow” was conceived and executed on the bet that neither of the Canadian actors had visited Miami, Florida, before. It would seem like an exotic retreat from a freezing New York and Vancouver. The best souvenirs from a new place are the ones tied to the five human senses; what you see; what you smell; what you taste; what you touch; what you hear. In the days leading up to BronyCon, I dashed around, ironically rediscovering my own hometown, as I sought out the perfect gift packages for Ashleigh, Andrea, and Nicole.
Rainbow Dash’s lightheaded spell on the plane from chapter two, and the souvenirs she, Applejack, Pinkie Pie, Fluttershy, and Princess Celestia brought back in chapter three. All of it was from my actual experiences. With the packages assembled and ready, I purchased their autographs on behalf of friends and fellow fans that couldn’t join me at BronyCon. I handed each actor their presents, retrieved my posters and departed the convention.
(The recipients’ names were omitted for their safety)
The operation’s success was a major breakthrough in the development of “TiSA”. I was standing on brand new, reality-based material to work with, and the possibilities were tantalizing. But “Orange Bow”, which was destined never to be disclosed like this, had greater implications than even I could foresee. You can imagine my disbelief when I learned that Andrea Libman and Nicole Oliver called my bluff and actually visited South Florida in January 2013. Whether they sought out the “Animate! Miami” convention, or vice versa, is anyone’s guess. Then, in July 2014, when Ashleigh Ball and director Brent Hodge released their documentary film, “A Brony Tale”, to the public, the whole thing was blown wide open before my eyes.
(‘I got an incoming call from a Ms. Atlantic Ocean. Will you accept?’ -Applejack, chapter 3 excerpt)
I guess Jean Racine’s quote of “There are no secrets that time does not reveal” is true after all. And they call it the “private” sector. By the way, it was at the premiere of the movie where I finally admitted to others that I was a brony; thirty-five months after my first episode. Not bad, considering how long it usually takes to make up my mind on other things.
The following March, a high-tech employer made me an exciting job offer in the San Francisco Bay Area. Seizing the opportunity, I left Miami weeks later for Los Angeles, where an hours-long stopover allowed me to obtain most of the point-of-view images scattered throughout the story. The two and a half years spent in Northern California is referenced in the chapter 3 flyby.
“Teamwork iS Awesome” premiered on FimFiction in April 2012, and right away went on hiatus as I returned to the next BronyCon in Secaucus, New Jersey, this time as a volunteer for the convention’s security team. Looking back on the all the pictures and videos, I can still remember what an incredible experience it was. My interactions with the fans and show staff would later be essential in formulating the final act at the checkpoint.
(Sometimes the best way to blend in is to stand out)
Thoroughly enjoying the fandom now, I found myself attending other events, such as the “Bronies” pre-release screening in Anaheim in November, where I personally thanked Lauren Faust and Tara Strong for “Friendship is Magic”.
(The paper Ms. Faust holds is the summary and chapter list to “Teamwork iS Awesome”. Knowing that she doesn’t partake in fan fiction, I decided only to give her that much)
In June 2013, Andrea Libman’s promoting of the BC Ride to Conquer Cancer convinced me to join the two-day, 200 kilometer bike marathon from Vancouver, British Columbia, to Seattle, Washington. This is a mirrored fragment of Rainbow Dash’s furious flight. Having only acquired a bike and practiced on it within the last two months leading up to the journey, it’s still miraculous to think that I survived it.
(If you can’t see me in this picture, it’s because I didn’t wear a suit for once)
Prolonged slump
Although the time had come to realize the story’s main premise, writing the final chapter had fallen into a prolonged slump due to a mix of apprehension and disinterest. Ponies or no ponies, America’s approach to aviation security is a contentious subject. Chapter four was nearly cancelled following the November 2013 shooting incident at LAX that resulted in the death of a TSA officer. To follow so closely on the heels of such a tragedy with something comedic would have been highly inappropriate.
As time dragged on, another job opportunity in Los Angeles came through last October, and “TiSA” saw a major resurgence; 8,000 words were added to chapter four in one late December weekend. As the January 7th deadline drew closer, I only became more determined to meet it, finding opportunities to work on it whenever and wherever I could. As the timestamp at the bottom will attest, I completed the story in the nick of time.
The kind of art I enjoy most is that which is informed and relevant to the challenges facing our modern society. I don’t draw, edit, or write for popularity, (and not yet as a profession) but because I have something to say on the topic at hand. If others happen to find it entertaining or thoughtful, I’d be flattered, even more so if “TiSA” unseats “Cupcakes” as the fandom’s most controversial fanfiction.
No labor of love
“Teamwork iS Awesome” is no mere labor of love, but the one story I have lived and breathed over the past three years, more than its readers would ever be privileged to know. I am pleased to share at least this much with those who enjoyed and followed it to its conclusion. The idea for a sequel has been brewing for some time, just more research and the right conditions within the fandom are needed.
The community surrounding “Friendship is Magic” continues to mesmerize me with its candor and creativity, as it did when I first discovered it by chance. As season 5 and a full-length movie rapidly approach from over the horizon, I can see it only grow larger. I’m proud to continue playing a role in it, whatever that may be. For us bronies, art does not imitate life; it IS life.
(My niece’s late Christmas present, influenced by the story “My Little Dashie”. I don’t care for sad endings, so I made up a new one)
Thank you again for reading my silly little tale. Until we meet again,
James Anon, AKA FestOfAmerican
The author saved the document, opened the Internet browser and uploaded the special ending to FimFiction, changing the status of “Teamwork iS Awesome” to “Completed”. Indeed he felt it was, with the right amount of discrepancies and omissions from his brony autobiography, some of them meant for the more astute readers to decipher on their own.
Checking the time on the corner of the micro PC’s screen, he realized how late in the day it was. He jumped out of his seat, grabbed his suitcase and American Airlines boarding pass. The destination was terra incognita to him, but he had no doubt the trip would be fun and be reflected on his next piece of writing.
James turned the computer off, walked to the front door and stepped outside into another gorgeous day in Southern California.
Acknowledgements
FestOfAmerican would again like to thank the following for their invaluable assistance in the preparation and presentation of “Teamwork iS Awesome”
U.S. Department of Homeland Security Los Angeles World Airports American Airlines Air Canada Equestria Daily FimFiction DeviantART Google/ YouTube Photobucket Wikipedia
