A Dream

by totallynotabrony


The Fault in Our Cutie Marks

The girls met with the Princesses that morning. The intended topic had been their recent trip to Silent Hill, but with the attack on Coloratura the previous night, the talk soon shifted to that.
“And we don’t have a single clue who could be behind this?” Luna asked.
“They’re sneaky, good with electronics, might be based somewhere in Everfree Forest, and they have metal plating,” summarized Cordoba. “I have taken the lead in their extermination.”
While the others might have argued about her taking the lead on protecting Coloratura or even the investigation, they had to concede that Cordoba was far ahead of them all on actually killing the perpetrator.
“Are they really that good?” Celestia said. “To have simply slipped into the castle?”
“It doesn’t help that your guards are incompetent,” said Cordoba.
“What was that?” said Soarin’ as he entered the room.
“Your guards are incompetent,” repeated Cordoba.
“That’s a little harsh,” said Soarin’. “We’re not the best I’ll concede, but we’ve gotten a lot better lately. Don’t forget that we were here too when the cutie markless ponies attacked.”
“I never said you couldn’t fight,” said Cordoba. “I’m pointing out that you failed at your job of stopping dangerous intruders to the castle.”
Soarin’ didn’t acknowledge that, turning to the Princesses. “We searched the area around the castle. There were some magical traces. Maybe with analysis, we can pin down the signature and figure out who it was.”
“Can I help?” said Twilight.
Soarin’ nodded. “I’m sure the forensics team would appreciate it.”
The others, knowing that Twi was going to get her nerd on for a good long while, decided to go hang out in Canterlot for a while.
Walking out of the castle, they were greeted with snow.
“That little snow shower yesterday was a fluke, but this is just plain ridiculous,” said Applejack.
“What’s that?” said Pinkie, pointing.
In the castle courtyard was another Christmas tree, like the one they’d seen at the Crystal Empire. From somewhere, music played.
“Hmm hmm hmm, hmm hmm hmm, hmm hmm hmm hmm hmm,” Cordoba hummed along.
“Good thing Twilight is on the case,” said Rarity hurriedly. “She can figure out what it means.”
They all walked quickly for the entertainment district.
Back in Ponyville, the Cutie Mark Crusaders were ambushed by a griffin. To their great fortune, it was the only nice griffin in existence. Unfortunately, she was a total spaz and way too huggy.
“The Cutie Mark Crusaders! I can’t believe it’s really, really you!” she laughed, seizing them all with her forelegs.
“How in the blooming apples did you know who we are?” Apple Bloom asked, slightly winded by the hug.
“Know who you are?” said the griffon. “Why, I’ve heard about you from everypony in Ponyville! I’m so excited to meet you, I could just explode! I’m Gabriella, but you can call me Gabby since we’re friends now! Pleased to meet you!”
Normally, such forthcoming, forced friendship was a hallmark of something sinister and/or mental illness. In this case, Gabby was truly just friendly, almost in the same way as Pinkie Pie, except not a raging lesbian.
“I’m just about the most excited anygriffon has ever been about anything!” said Gabby.
“Excited? But whatever for?” asked Sweetie.
“Everypony in town tells me of your amazing assistance, how you help ponies find their place in the world!” said Gabby. “And that's why I’m here. I need help, too. I want you to give me a cutie mark!”
Speaking of impossible things, in Canterlot, Twilight said, “That’s impossible!”
“I’m sorry, Miss Sparkle, but that’s what the test says,” the forensic tech told her. “The magic used by the intruder to Miss Coloratura’s bedroom matches yours.”
“How could that possibly be?” Twilight said. “I have witnesses that will say I wasn’t there. And I wasn’t, of course.”
“And even if she was, as the Governor of Silent Hill, Twilight Sparkle has special executive privilege,” said Celestia coming in.
“But I wasn’t,” Twilight continued to protest.
“I believe you,” said Celestia. “If nothing else, I can’t think of a motive. But it does raise the question of who wants to - what was it again?”
“They’ve been sneaking into Coloratura’s room at night and doing experimental surgery with electronic implants,” Twilight said.
“That. Who would do that and also leave behind what seems to be your magic signature?” said Celestia.
One name in particular came to Twilight’s mind, but she quickly said, “I don’t know.”
Back in Ponyville, the Crusaders had finally gotten Gabby to take it down a goddamned notch and had a reasonable conversation.
“Why do you even want a cutie mark?” Scootaloo asked.
“I don’t know if you've heard, but griffons can be a little bit unfriendly,” Gabby explained. “Most griffons don’t pay much attention to each other, and if they do, it’s not, y’know, the good kind of attention. As for me, I’m just a little mail delivery griffon who likes to spread a little bit of griffony sunshine on my rounds, which always makes me feel different from the other griffons. It wasn’t until your friends came to Griffonstone that I realized some creatures actually like helping each other, and I saw something so awesomely awesome - how helping spreads from pony to pony and griffon to griffon! I knew then that I had to find out why I was so different from the other griffons, and I knew the answer just had to have something to do with those wonderful, amazing marks on ponies’ flanks. And I admit I became, um, maybe a little obsessed. So first chance I had, I came to find the perfect ponies to help me understand what those marks are. Everypony here told me one thing - I just had to see the Cutie Mark Crusaders! They’ve helped everypony here get their cutie marks, and I knew, I just knew, that someday I’d have one, too! A cutie mark of my very own! That’s why I flew all the way here. I want to find my own place in the world, and I know you can help me by giving me a cutie mark! So let’s make with the cutie!”
So much for taking it down a notch.
The Crusaders glanced at each other. This situation had “one wrong move will result in getting clawed to death” written all over it.
“I’m not sure griffons can even get cutie marks,” said Sweetie. She hastened to add, “But maybe we can still do what we’re best at - helping you find your purpose!”
Gabby took it well. “All right, let’s do this!”
“What are you good at?” Scootaloo asked. “Do you play any sports?
“Or like to dance?” said Apple Bloom.
“Or how about singing?” said Sweetie.
“I kind of want to just try everything! I mean, I don’t even know what to pick!” said Gabby.
Fortunately, the Crusaders had experience in a little bit of everything. The phrase “an inch deep but a mile wide” definitely applied.
In Gabby’s case, however, she was more like the Grand Canyon. She was good at racing, potions, math, sweeping, babysitting, laundry, baseball, cheerleading, farming, composing, (in the case of Granny Smith, decomposing), music, baking, carpentry, sailing, and mental therapy.
That last one saw her counseling Merry May and helping her get her shit together. Honestly, the part Gabby seemed to find most challenging was getting a couch big enough.
The Crusaders met back with her at their clubhouse later, after a full day of being utterly ultra-competent at everything.
“Now how are we going to do this?” asked Apple Bloom.
“Gabby’s special purpose can’t be everything, right?” said Sweetie.
“I don't know how we figure out what she’s supposed to do when she can do it all,” added Scootaloo.
Applejack poked her head into the clubhouse. “Apple Bloom, we’re back from Canterlot.”
“Hey Applejack,” said Apple Bloom. “This is our friend Gabby. We’re trying to help her find her special talent, and she’s trying everything.”
Applejack sized the griffon up. “Have you ever tried security?”
“Nope, but I’ll do anything you need!” Gabby smiled.
“If you’ll come with me, I have a job for you tonight,” said Applejack. Gabby followed her out of the clubhouse.
“Good, that gives us another day to figure out what we can do for Gabby,” said Sweetie.
They all hoped that would be enough.
In town, Twilight was going through books, trying to figure out how one pony’s magical signature could resemble hers. There were ways, but she was trying to determine the most plausible one. There weren’t many.
Columbia came in. “Since this isn’t a free country, do I need a permit or something to have a political rally?”
Remembering that the position of President that Columbia was campaigning for was technically hers for the taking, Twilight stuttered. “I don’t know. Nopony ever has political rallies because we don’t need to.”
“Hmm. Maybe instead I’ll just set up a meet ‘n greet booth,” mused Columbia. “Give out mushroom stamps for a little souvenir.”
“Is that like the little hoovsies stamps that Coloratura used to do?” said Twilight. “But why mushrooms?”
“It’s a euphemism for people willingly letting me smack them in the face with my penis.”
Twilight recoiled. “That doesn’t even make sense! Who would let you do that? And where do mushrooms come in?”
“That’s what they’re shaped like, Twilight.”
“No they aren’t! Not pony ones, anyway!”
Columbia opened her mouth, paused, and then said, “Shut up, Twilight.” She left.
Twilight wasn’t sure if she had won that argument and decided she didn’t want to know.
That evening, eager to try out helping ponies with security, Gabby was on station outside Coloratura’s bedroom. Merry also lent support, orbiting at a distance from the Apple family house.
Merry getting her shit together had taken some effort. Putting it in a backpack, or taking it to the shit store to sell it, or putting it in the shit museum hadn’t worked. Being a robot, it had actually required a hard drive partition. Either way, she was quite glad to be happy again. Who knew all it took was a few words from a random griffon mail carrier?
Merry kept checking the perimeter of the farm. At Applejack’s request, Twilight, Cordoba, Trixie, and Braeburn had come together to set up a magical and scientific protection system for Coloratura’s benefit. It had cages to block both magic and radio waves, in addition to cameras and other monitoring devices. Coloratura wasn’t exactly pleased to be sleeping inside all of that, but reluctantly agreed.
A newly-installed magic detector strapped to Merry’s belly and patched into her systems pinged. She swung around, hunting for the signal. The Apple house? Certainly nobody who lived there was an active magic user. She accelerated.
The signal came again, this time appearing as sparks off the outside of the house. Merry guessed the mysterious visitor had attempted to teleport in and gotten a surprise.
To her surprise, however, the cloaked figure simply teleported to just outside Coloratura’s window and then slipped it open. Merry immediately transmitted, “They’re here!”
Wearing a headset, Gabby heard her warning and threw open the bedroom door. She was already in motion and tackled the bedroom intruder. The two of them fought across the floor. As a griffon, she knew how to avoid an opponent’s slashing claws. Merry had come to a hover just outside, spotlight illuminating the room and cameras recording the fight.
Gabby yanked the intruder’s hood off.
The visitor roared and made a maneuver impossible to normal ponies, sliding out of Gabby’s clutches and bolting for the window. They jumped, their momentum carrying them straight onto Merry’s cockpit windshield.
The two of them hung there for a moment that seemed to stretch out until eternity - and then the uninvited guest teleported away.
Gabby slumped on the bedroom floor. “I…failed. You asked me to help, but I let them get away.”
“You protected me,” Coloratura tried to comfort her. “Nopony’s ever been that close to the intruder before.”
But Gabby shook her head. “The Crusaders said I was good at everything, but I’m not. I…I tried to put on a brave face and do something no griffon had ever done before, but I’m chasing an impossible dream.”
“You helped me too,” Merry tried to reassure her, but Gabby took off the headset.
“I should go home,” said Gabby. “Everygriffon said I was being silly for wanting to be a pony.”
By this time, Applejack and Applebloom had come into the room. Gabby hesitated, but went out the window instead of facing the shame of telling Apple Bloom that she couldn’t pass the muster of being a Cutie Mark Crusader.
Merry wondered what it said about the quality of her therapy if her therapist had a breakdown. But then, Merry had finally gotten her shit together and decided not to think about it.
Despite the late hour, Applejack called a meeting. It was important. They finally knew the identity of the infamous bedroom intruder. The girls came, plus Spike, Trixie, Cordoba, and Cracker. Merry showed them the video. They all recognized the perpetrator.
Cordoba snarled, “Twi-minator.”