//------------------------------// // 17 - Parts to Play // Story: Mantles // by Ponky //------------------------------// CHAPTER SEVENTEEN PARTS TO PLAY Apple Bloom stared out the window of the train, resting her face on one hoof. The terrain was different than what she was used to. She had never visited Trottingham before, or even knew much about the elusive, ancient city. She remembered a few details from Cheerilee’s history lessons: that Trottingham was among the oldest pony-made cities, that it existed before the founding of Equestria and was later absorbed into the nation, that the upper class Canterlotian accent originated in Trottingham, and that it rained there. A lot. The latter, at least, was apparent even an hour out from the city. The grass of the hills was a darker green that Apple Bloom was used to, and their beauty was accentuated by the thick grey clouds looming above as far as the eye could see. Rain pattered on the top of the train and dribbled down the windows in steady veins. Lightning struck in the distance, too far away for her to hear the thunder. The flash drew her attention to her own reflection in the glass, as well as the empty seat beside her. She took a quick glance around the train car. There were very few other ponies, each absorbed in their own activities. Apple Bloom sighed and hoped Razorwing would stay safe until she got back. Still, she was glad he hadn’t insisted on coming with her to Trottingham. While there was no emergency there, rumors of another vigilante cleaning up its streets were buzzing in Canterlot. Apple Bloom was eager to meet them. The train slowed, its brakes squeaking in the rain, and stopped at a small station. A poorly lit sign outside the window said “HORSETON”. A grin played at the corner of Apple Bloom’s mouth as she imagined a group of young friends at the Horseton Elementary School pining to get their Cutie Marks together. Every other passenger in her train car stood up and left the train in Horseton. Apple Bloom lifted her eyebrows in surprise when the train lurched forward and she found herself alone. With a few quick looks up and down the aisle of the car, Apple Bloom removed the purple hat from her travel bag and placed it over her thick red mane in desperate need of a trim. “You there, Lyra?” she asked aloud. “Sure am, Apple Bloom,” Lyra said. She sipped something that clinked when she set it down. “How’s everypony’s favorite savior of Equestria?” “Psh.” Apple Bloom rolled her eyes. “Is it weird that it don’t feel all that impressive to me?” “Not really,” Lyra said. “You grew up in the shadows of humble mares who saved Equestria half a dozen times and barely even changed their daily routines. Heck, one of them’s your big sister!” Apple Bloom wilted a little. “I hope Applejack’s all right,” she said. “Oh, she’s fine,” Lyra said. “I just talked with her the other day, actually.” “What?” Apple Bloom shot up. “You did? How?” “Uh, I saw her at Carousel Boutique? Not that weird.” Gaping, Apple Bloom had to collect her thoughts before responding. “But… Rainbow Dash told me she had disappeared from Ponyville, that nopony knew where she was!” “Oh yeah, she did say that. Hmm.” Lyra took another sip and chuckled. “Well, I think she stayed at Sweet Apple Acres for a long time and there was a rumor that she skipped town when she didn’t show up at the market for a couple of weeks, but… nah, she’s still here.” Apple Bloom collapsed in her chair with a heavy sigh. “Oh, thank Celestia. I feel like a big ol’ knot just untied in my stomach.” “Oops. I’m sorry, Bloom.” The wince in her voice was easy to hear. “I should have told you earlier. I didn’t realize you were so worried.” “Yeah, jeez, Lyra.” Apple Bloom chuckled. “Anything else you’re not tellin’ me? I like Ponyville updates, you know.” Lyra was quiet for a moment. She cleared her throat. “Um… well, since we’re talking about Applejack, there is something I should probably tell you.” Apple Bloom’s brow furrowed. “What is it?” “Well… so, when I saw her at the Boutique the other day, she was really upset. Like, really upset, more than I’ve ever seen her. And, I don’t know, I didn’t want her to worry about you, so… I told her that I’ve been helping you do the Mare Do Well thing.” “What!?” Apple Bloom shouted. “Come on, Lyra! Are you serious? You think that’ll make her less worried?” She groaned loudly. “She’s prob’ly already in Canterlot lookin’ for me.” “Eh, I doubt it. She didn’t seem too surprised. I mean, she already knew what you were going to do, didn’t she? If anything, I think she was happy to know somepony was looking after her.” “Did you tell her about Rainbow Dash or Razorwing or… Doctor Cossittee?” Apple Bloom gulped. “No, no, nothing like that. All I said was that you’re doing really well, you’re safe, ponies love you, stuff like that.” She chuckled. “No, even when Rarity asked for the details, I was careful not to say anything that—” “Rarity was there?” Apple Bloom interrupted. “You told Rarity, too?” Lyra guffawed. “Well, obviously she knew you’re behind the Mare Do Well stunts in Canterlot, Apple Bloom. You got the costume from her, remember?” “That don’t matter, Lyra. You can’t go blabblin’ about this to everypony! What if it gets to somepony who shouldn’t know?” “Oh, come on, Apple Bloom, it’s not a big deal. You barely live in Canterlot anyway, nopony knows who Apple Bloom is.” “What about when I need to get a job? Sweetie Belle can’t support me forever.” “And why not? That’s her part in all this: you go kick flank, she pays the bills. Everypony’s got a specialty.” “What’s that supposed to mean? Sweetie Belle is my friend!” “I’m not saying anything bad about Sweetie Belle, Apple Bloom, I’m just saying you deserve to be taken care of. You’re doing a lot for the city she lives in!” “Not for long, once Rarity gets the gossip to everypony and their dog.” “She won’t t—” “Lyra, stop justifyin’ yerself and just promise you won’t tell anypony else.” “Hey, whoa, I didn’t do anything wrong. I told your older sister and one of her closest friends that you’re not dead and actually doing all right for yourself.” “Well, don’t! Maybe it’d be better if they thought I was dead!” “Get a hold of yourself, Apple Bloom, you’re being ridiculous!” “I just don’t wantcha—” “You think this is easy for me?” Lyra asked sharply. “You think it’s easy to sit in Ponyville, watching you play the hero and nearly get killed, and then just go about my normal day? We all have our part to play, Apple Bloom, and yours might be more intense, but that doesn’t make the rest of ours easy.” “What does that have to do with tellin’ Applejack?” “I didn’t tell her anything!” “Ughh!” Apple Bloom pulled off the hat and threw it under her seat, crossing her forehooves over her chest and watching the rain hit the window. Trottingham appeared at the foot of a hill. A clock tower stood above a layer of fog that only revealed the roofs of the tallest buildings. The architecture was tall and gothic. Even from a distance, Apple Bloom could tell the city was made mostly of grey stone, a feature of ancient earth pony craft. The rain outside turned into wet fog as the train approached the dark Trottingham station. A pleasant chill swept through Apple Bloom’s empty car when the train stopped and the doors open. She shoved her hat back in the travel bag and trotted out into the unfamiliar city. Despite the weather, there were quite a few ponies bustling in the narrow cobblestone streets of the city. Nearly all of them were clothed in long coats featuring buttons and leather straps, sporting scarves and old fashioned hats. Apple Bloom shivered and made her way through the town, though the fog made it difficult to see very far ahead. The cold sunk into her skin. She stopped a well dressed pony in the street and said, “‘Scuse me! Where’s someplace I can stay for the night?” “Oy, a south’nah!” said the stallion. “Don’t git many o’ your lot ‘round ‘ere, sweet.” His expression was hard to read, but not unhappy. He turned around and pointed down the road behind him. “Jus’ up there, y’o’ll find the Saggin’ Saddle, a loverly little spot for a drink and a bed. Not an ‘undred trots down this very road! Nigh’, then.” He tipped his hat and hurried off. Apple Bloom blinked. “The Saggin’ Saddle?” she said aloud to herself. “Doesn’t sound very, er… loverly.” Her teeth began to chatter so she hurried to find the inn. “That’s sure not the Trottingham accent I expected…” she mumbled. The Sagging Saddle’s faded sign hung from a post by its front door. Apple Bloom entered and sighed at the welcome warmth. A fire burned in the central hearth, casting a nice orange glow that contrasted the grey world outside. Several ponies sat at round tables throughout the ground floor, and Apple Bloom noticed two staircases leading up on opposite ends of the building. Between them, along the back wall, was a long bar at which sat a few slumped ponies with their hats off. A mare with a braided green mane behind the counter slid a plate of food to one of them. Apple Bloom caught her attention immediately. “‘Ello there,” said the mare. She was young and pretty, and while her teeth were a bit crooked there was something charming in her smile. “Visiting, are we?” “That’s right,” Apple Bloom said with a weak smile of her own. “I was wonderin’ if y’all have a room I can rent for a night’r two?” “What a curious accent you’re sporting,” said the mare. “From where are you?” “Ponyville,” Apple Bloom said, “southeast of Canterlot.” “Oh yes, I’ve ‘eard of Ponyville.” The mare giggled. “Very well, of course we have a room for you. I’ll fetch the key.” She turned around and rummaged through an old wooden drawer. Apple Bloom took in the sights and sounds of the inn. While strange to her, there was a nice feeling in the air, as though nothing had changed in hundreds of years. “Yours’ll be room fourteen, Miss,” said the mare, handing Apple Bloom a large brass key on a ring with the number 14 engraved. “Nine bits for a night.” Apple Bloom raised her eyebrows. “Oh… uh, okay.” She began fishing through her bag. “Price may seem a bit steep, Miss,” said the mare with an apologetic look, “but we’ll feed you free in the mornin’, and the food’s right proper.” “Oh, it’s no problem. Breakfast sounds dandy.” Apple Bloom dropped nine gold pieces on the counter. The mare smiled and scooped them carefully into her apron. “It’s not us’ally this pricey, Miss, but earlier this year we was hit with a series of thieveries, I’m afraid.” Her smile dimmed. “We would like to get back to the way things were, once things get a bit more… steady.” Apple Bloom frowned. “Whaddaya mean ‘steady’?” The mare bit her lip. One of the stallions at the bar turned to Apple Bloom with a sour expression. “Yuh’ve come callin’ at a poor time, lass. Trottingham’s been cursed,” he said in a gruff, unfamiliar accent. “This in’t the sole establishment been robbed its gold. Wealth all over the city, disappearin’ without a trace. Strange sightings of monsters in the Moonlight. If I were you, lass, I’d not stay here a night ‘n’ be back to Ponyville on the next train.” “If I’m not mistaken, one cannot travel to Ponyville by train these days,” a second stallion said, further down the bar. His clothes were clean, especially the immaculate blue top hat covering his silver mane. His voice was more along the lines of the accent Apple Bloom used for Mare Do Well. “Some sort of royally established social quarantine, if I’m not wrong.” “Nope, yer spot on,” said Apple Bloom. “I’ve been livin’ in Canterlot lately. And thanks for the advice there, but I’m here to meet a friend and I’ve seen my fair share o’ monsters.” The gruff stallion stared at Apple Bloom a moment, but soon grinned. He was missing some bottom teeth and sported an enormous orange beard. “Heh heh… aye, I imagine y’have, lass. Name’s Slam McHaggis. Tell me, who’s the friend lurin’ ya to such a dreadful town? All I need’s a name, I know every poor soul in Trottingham.” “Then there’s no sense lyin’ to ya,” Apple Bloom said, smiling. “I ain’t here to see a friend, really. I’m here on account of a rumor I heard.” “Oh? And what’s the chit chat stretchin’ all the way to yon Canterlot?” Slam asked, squinting. “Monsters ain’t the only new inhabitants of the streets here, are they?” she asked. “I heard somepony’s trying to do some good, too.” “Ahhh…” Slam nodded slowly. “Yer speakin’ o’ Harness, lass.” “I’m not surprised the word has gotten around,” said the stallion in the top hat, sneering. “That fool’s been stirring up trouble for nearly a month now.” “He’s no fool, Checker,” scolded the mare behind the counter. “He’s the only one tryin’ to stop whatever’s come upon us.” She blushed a little and ran a rag over the countertop. “I think he’s somethin’ of an hero, meself.” “Oh, do try to curb your enthusiasm, Penny.” Checker guffawed and adjusted his top hat. “He’s a mad pony, traipsing about the streets in the dead of night, frightening the innocent in his absurd quest to cleanse Trottingham. The world is a different place now with Princess Sparkle on the throne. There’s no reason to pretend otherwise. We may as well accept it, rather than bow to the whims of the Mare Do Well and her copycats.” Penny gasped and looked at Apple Bloom. “You said you live in Canterlot, Miss? Have you ever seen the Mare Do Well?” Apple Bloom shook her head. “Afraid not. Have any o’ y’all seen this Harness character? What does he look like?” “They say he’s enormous,” Penny giggled. “Big as a buildin’, I’ve ‘eard.” “Aye, they say he leaps from corner to corner in a single bound,” said Slam with a gleam in his eye. “He wears the tattered black mask of an executioner, and his coat of white is stained by blood.” “Hogwash,” muttered Checker. He got up from the bar and headed out of the inn. “I can’t bear to hear the praise of a mad pony any longer.” “Have you seen him, Slam?” Apple Bloom asked. “Aye, lass,” Slam said. “He’s mighty quick fer such a big’n, but I seen him one cloudy eve in the slivers of Moonlight, chasin’ a monster back to its lair.” Apple Bloom smiled. “Where?” (/\/\) Ornery Checker, pulling his blue top hat tighter over his forehead, marched through the foggy avenues of Trottingham, grumbling to himself. “Stupid, mindless earth ponies… no respect for craft, no understanding of progress…” His words were too soft for most to hear, not that anypony around him was listening. Above him, however, balanced on the peak of a steeply angled rooftop, a wide, hulking stallion with a darkly spotted white coat listened through the coarse fabric of his menacing hood. Draped around his chest and flank were dark, buckled straps and rusted metal rings. With surprising silence considering his size, the stallion who called himself Harness followed Checker through the fog, avoiding the attention of anypony strolling through an evening in Trottingham. The night waxed on, and Checker still walked. Trottingham was a sprawling city of very narrow streets; most of its citizens walked great distances every day. Even by those standards, however, Harness was concerned at how far Checker kept going. Did he know he was being followed? Even when all other ponies had retired to their homes, Checker hurried on into older and older districts of the city. Where was he going? Harness heard a strange sound, like a flag whipping in a strong wing, behind him. He spun around in time to see Mare Do Well let go of her cloak and land on all fours. She stood tall and nodded. “Harness, is it?” Harness’ dark eyes were hidden behind two ragged holes in the hood’s black fabric. He stared at Mare Do Well in silence for a while, then said, “Leave,” and turned his attention back to Checker. Mare Do Well zoned in on the same target. “Who is he?” she asked. “Leave,” Harness said again. His voice was low and soft, like a rumbling whisper. “I don’t want you here.” “I’d like to get to know you,” Mare Do Well said, “and help you however I can.” “I don’t need help.” Like a grasshopper, the huge stallion coiled his legs and jumped across the street, landing into a quiet roll up another steep roof to keep his eyes trained on Checker. Mare Do Well glided after him and spoke with a smile in her voice. “I’m Mare Do Well,” she said. “I protect Canterlot. I heard you’re doing the same here in Trottingham.” “I am,” said Harness. “Alone.” “You don’t need to do it alone. I know better than anypony that this job can be overwhelming. When we work together—” “You can drop the accent,” Harness said. “I know you’re not from Trottingham.” Mare Do Well’s words caught in her throat. She kept up the voice to say, “Well, no, but I do like to disguise my voice, if you don’t mind.” “It’s not bad,” Harness said. “I didn’t mean… it’s a good accent.” He cleared his throat. “I just… I know it’s pretend.” “I don’t mind if you know,” Mare Do Well said, pointing down at Checker, “but don’t tell the likes of him. Who is he?” Harness sighed. The fabric of his mask quivered around his nostrils. “Ornery Checker. A tax collector for the city.” “Trying to get a higher return?” Mare Do Well asked. Harness glared at her. The light of the city glinted sharply in his eyes behind the small holes. “Sorry,” she said. “I’m not usually the comic relief.” “Nor am I,” Harness said, “and I don’t need any. Leave.” “No.” She turned her head. “I’ll stay out of your way, if that’s what you want, but I need to make sure that Trottingham’s hero is doing his part to clean up Equestria. I care about more than just Canterlot.” Harness was still. “Is that why you went to Manehattan?” he asked. “Making sure its hero was doing their part?” “Spritemare asked for my help,” Mare Do Well said. “She is a dedicated and capable protector of her city. I hope to see the same in you, and to offer my services at any time.” Harness snorted. “Fine, you can watch. If you’ll then leave.” Mare Do Well tipped her hat. “I won’t do a thing until you ask for my help.” “I won’t.” Harness’ eyes swept over the section of the city where they stood, spotting Checker by the base of the clock tower. “Why him?” Mare Do Well asked. “Have you seen the creatures that plague these streets?” Harness asked. Mare Do Well shook her head. Harness tensed. “They are evil. That’s really all I can say. I don’t know how else to describe it. They look like ponies, I suppose—shrunken ponies. But something about them is unsettling beyond words. The sight of them makes the hair rise all along your spine. They’re everything bad about ponykind, every awful thing we’re capable of, concentrated in an individual form.” “How many are there?” Mare Do Well asked. “Not many,” said Harness. “Less than a dozen, I think. They’re ferocious and violent, but seem intelligent and even… delighted.” He shook his head. “Delighted to be alive.” Mare Do Well looked down at Checker. He was standing under the clocktower, checking a pocketwatch frequently and surveying the nearby, empty roads. “Is he one of them?” Mare Do Well asked. “What?” Harness sighed. “No. You’ll know when you see them.” “Then what does this have to do with Ornery Checker?” Harness crouched as Checker scanned the rooftops nearest him. Softly, Harness said, “I believe he may have created them.” (/\/\) Razorwing flew along the northern edge of the Everfree Forest. According to the samples Mare Do Well had analyzed, the drugs called ‘sap’ were coming from a mulberry tree. He reached back and felt the shard of crystal sap tucked into his armor, remembering the big griffon he’d taken it from some time ago. It had been so easy to use his blades to win that fight without a second thought. “And it’ll be easy again,” Razorwing said to himself. “Confidence, confidence. You’re good at this. You’re really good at this.” He followed the treeline for miles until Cloudsdale was nothing but a cotton ball in the distance behind him. No other cities or settlements were in sight, not even a road skirting the edge of the forest. This was wild territory, fit only for beasts and winged society. “All right, what the heck does a mulberry tree look like?” Razorwing asked himself. Too high to notice tiny berries, Razorwing dove lower and peered over the tops of the trees. He stuck his wings out and froze in midair when he saw a strange movement among the leaves deeper into the forest. A stream of clear vapor was rising, disturbing his vision enough to take note. “Bingo,” he said, and dropped into the trees. Spinning and darting around drunks and through branches, Razorwing was careful not to make much noise on his search for some kind of facility. Before long, a pungent, sweet smell hit his snout, and he followed the scent southward into the woods. He landed on the ground and poked his head through a bush. Sprawled out between short, drooping trees, a series of bright yellow, igloo-like tents stood at random proximity in front of him. Each had plastic vents in their tops erupting invisible vapors that shook the air like a desert mirage. “Hmm…” Razorwing looked around for signs of local attendants, but the site seemed to be empty. He squeezed the rest of his body through the bush and skittered over the ground to the nearest tent. He could hear mechanical whirring and the distinct sound of boiling liquid inside. The dirt in between each tent was marked with large, taloned footprints. Very large. “Wow,” said Razorwing, placing his hoof in the center of the massive, birdlike shape. It made his hoof look like a foal’s. “Girthy.” “Not exactly the term I prefer,” a rich voice tremored behind him. Razorwing turned around slowly and smiled up at the fearsome griffon behind him. “Ooh-ho-ho… you’re Falcon,” he said. “Yeah, that makes a lot of sense, actually.” The great griffon’s face was very falcon-like indeed, albeit the size of Razorwing’s entire torso. “I’m Razorwing,” he continued, sticking out his hoof for Falcon to shake. “Great to finally meet you. I’m sure you’ve heard of—oof!” Falcon swatted Razorwing aside with the back of his claw. Like a doll, Razorwing tumbled into one of the tents. His wings cut up its fabric and the structure deflated onto a large, cylindrical vat, churning and bouncing at a steady rhythm. “Cute machines you’ve got here,” Razorwing quipped, lying upside down. “Do they whistle? They look like they can whistle.” “You’re a cheeky little thing, aren’t you?” asked Falcon, striding closer on disturbingly quiet feet. His posture was perfect, his movements regal. “Especially for a murderer.” Midway through standing up, Razorwing froze. “What?” “You said yourself that you’re sure I’ve heard of you, and you’re right. Razorwing, the armored pegasus with knives in place of feathers.” Falcon smirked. “Seeing you for myself, it’s clear that Olbeak was exaggerating.” Razorwing couldn’t move, let alone speak. “Olbeak, by the way, was the griffon you let drop from the sky some time ago. Or do you remember that many victims back?” Shaking his head, Razorwing said, “I don’t have victims.” “Olbeak is permanently paralyzed thanks to you,” said Falcon. “Did you know that? I’m sure he’d rather be dead, though he’d probably prefer a death nobler than Aether’s.” A huge lump lodged in Razorwing’s throat. “No, I didn’t kill him. I didn’t mean to. It wasn’t my fault.” “From what I’ve heard, little pony, it was entirely your fault.” Falcon suddenly lunged forward and swatted the top of Razorwing’s head. His helmet rang like a gong and his face dropped into the dirt. “Aether was something of a friend of mine,” Falcon said with a haunting calmness in his voice. “I’m trying to decide how he would prefer to be avenged.” One of his huge talons wrapped around the back of Razorwing’s neck. He slowly lifted the pony close to his sharply curved beak. “Shall I gut you and leave you to rot in the woods? Should I break your wings and drop you into the streets of Canterlot from the edge of the atmosphere? Or should I leave you with a wisp of life, to tell your purple clad friend that there are still those who do not fear her?” Razorwing lifted the blades along his wings and touched them against Falcon’s throat. The great bird grinned. “Go ahead, little pony. Do it again. Rip my veins to shreds.” Trembling, Razorwing dropped his wings limply at his sides and gazed down the length of his snout. He reached his hooves behind his back. Falcon’s smile widened. “There is nothing weaker than a killer who cannot kill.” Razorwing made eye contact. “What about a cutter who knows how to cut?” He pulled the shard of crystal sap from his armor and lodged it into the talon around his neck. Falcon make a hollow gasp and released his grasp, giving Razorwing only a moment to escape. He flapped as fast as he could and rose above the Everfree Forest. Like a slingshot, Razorwing snapped off as fast as he had ever flown, putting miles between himself and the grove of mulberry trees before he dared look over his shoulder. Falcon hadn’t followed. Razorwing rubbed his neck and sighed. “I’m not very good at this,” he choked. (/\/\) When the great old clock struck midnight, the streets of Trottingham were as empty and quiet as one could imagine, save for a single stallion standing under the chiming tower. Ornery Checker fidgeted, more from the cold than from nerves, and watched the streets around him with expectant eyes. Finally, a pair of bright ponies, giggling to themselves, bound around a corner together and made their way toward Checker. From a different direction, another smiling pony appeared, hurrying toward the clocktower with a spring in his step. From the rooftops above, Mare Do Well and Harness watched them group together as yet another pair of ponies skipped out of the shadows, glowing with delight. When all had gathered, five beaming ponies stood around Checker, clearly ecstatic to see each other. Though she strained to, Mare Do Well couldn’t hear what any of them were saying. “We need to get closer,” she whispered to Harness. He shook his head. “I can hear them just fine.” Mare Do Well turned to him. “What? Really?” “Shhh.” He held up a hoof. “They’re asking him for more of ‘the potion’. They say they’ve never felt so good in their lives.” “They certainly look happy. Is the potion some kind of stimulant, you think?” Harness was silent. “Look. He’s removing it from his coat and giving it to them now. With no exchange? No money?” Mare Do Well could hear the frown in his voice. “What’s his game?” Checker gave each of the five ponies a tiny bottle of something green. They danced in place and shook with excitement, but waited until everypony had an open bottle in their hoof before gulping the stuff in unison. Checker stepped back. The hair rose on Mare Do Well’s neck. Harness leaned forward, searching for some noticeable reaction among the consumers. He did not have to search for long. The five ponies began to twitch, wretch, and writhe. Their backs curved and their limbs twisted while strange noises, popping and crackling, burst from their bodies into the quiet night. Mare Do Well’s stomach dropped when the transformations ceased, and in the place of the five bright ponies were five, malformed, horrifying little things that could only be described as evil. “There they are,” Harness breathed. “The monsters.” Colorless, shrunken, but nevertheless grinning, the five looked over each other and cackled. The way they moved sent chills down Mare Do Well’s spine. She saw Checker say something to them, and they galloped back toward the center of town at speeds that did not match their shriveled frames. “What did he do to them?” Mare Do Well asked. “Let’s find out,” said Harness. He coiled his hind legs and leapt forward, soaring through the air and falling several stories to smash the ground in front of Checker. The stallion yelped and flinched so badly his top hat fell off. A strangely blackened horn poked through his silver mane. Mare Do Well pulled out her cloak and glided to another roof, staying out of sight but drawing close enough to hear them talk. “What have you done, Checker?” Harness asked. Checker quivered in the stallion’s shadow. “Please don’t hurt me! I-I’ll tell you everything!” Harness took a mighty step forward. His stomp rattled the metal rings hanging about his body. “Be quick about it.” “Please, there’s nothing we can do tonight, the process is already complete,” said Checker. He gulped. “Meet me at my home tomorrow a-and I’ll be more than happy to explain.” With a massive white hoof, Harness grabbed Checker by the collar and scraped him up the brick base of the clocktower. Checker whimpered and stared down at the frightening hood over Harness’ face. “What did you give them?” he asked. “M-my potion!” Checker said. He wiggled and kicked pathetically in Harness’ grasp. “I-I-I’ve been studying the nature of ponykind, you see, and… oh, do put me down, I’ll explain!” Harness dropped Checker into a slumping pile and stepped back. He lowered his head and waited. Checker cleared his throat and tried to stabilize his breathing. “I’m sure you’ve noticed that things are changing in this country since the Princess of Friendship became the Princess of Dusk. Well, I’ve been fascinated by the sorts of behavior ponies have more openly expressed since the transition, particularly unicorns. It seemed to me that the darkening of Princess Sparkle revealed in ponykind a darker essence as well—the wicked half of a pony’s whole, I suppose, whereas only the righteous half had previously exhibited itself under Celestia’s reign. I began to wonder, what are these two halves of a single pony? What is the relationship between our dual natures?” As Checker spoke and his confidence rose, Mare Do Well could sense a disturbing madness in his voice. “I began to devise a way to separate these good and evil natures within a pony, to see if it was possible that one might communicate with and better understand each side individually. My experiments led to the potion: upon consumption, the user experiences a sharp divide of their personalities, and each subsequent dose shifts the user between his two settings. That is, once the potion has entered your system, one nature or the other takes hold of the reigns of the carriage that is your body, while its opposite rides dormant in the back, until another drink of the potion switches the effect, changing drivers, if you will.” A smile broke out on Checker’s face as he continued. “Those dear ponies you just saw transform… why, they’re the happiest equines on the planet! During the day they are entirely good, denying no whim to help their neighbors and feeling no temptation to commit any selfish act or inflict harm! And then, during the night, they are free to obey the fleeting desires of a wicked mind, giving no thought to propriety or cultural discernment. At all times they are free beings, free of the guilt and dismay bred of misaligned desires and actions! They are truly, finally free!” Harness brought a heavy hoof down on top of Checker’s head, and the ranting stallion flopped to the pavement. Mare Do Well flew down from her perch and stood over Checker’s limp body. “Now what?” she asked Harness. He sighed through his snout. “We round up the wicked,” he said. Mare Do Well grinned beneath her mask. “Together?” she asked. “Aye,” said Harness. “Together.” (/\/\) A domestic argument ended in a central district of Trottingham, and a disgruntled old mare stormed out of the apartment and huffed along the sidewalk. She ignored the darkness and coldness of the night, wondering to herself how she had managed to raise such a belligerent child. From behind her, a shadowy figure rushed to her side and smiled in her face. She screamed at the horrible sight and tripped over her own tired hooves, falling to the ground and struggling like an overturned beetle. Two of the strange ponies stood over her, grinning, and began to kick her ribs—gently, at first, then more and more ferociously until she began to cry. They laughed at her pain and began to stomp their hooves all over her body. Her screams turned to whimpers, and the whimpers grew quieter… Mare Do Well swept in from above, plowing into the shriveled monsters and knocking them away from the elderly mare. Harness galloped behind her, helping the mare to her hooves, and stood between the shaking elder and the scowling creatures. “Go on, then,” Mare Do Well said. “I’d like to know what it’s like to fight half a pony.” The creatures hissed and dove at her like wild animals. They thrashed and bit at Mare Do Well, but she parried their attacks with ease and knocked one out with a swift kick to the jaw. “Oh, please!” she said. “I’ve wrestled timberwolves scarier than you!” In truth, the evil ponies were terrifying. Everything about them felt wrong. Mare Do Well had to keep looking away in order to keep her wits about her. During one such moment, the creature jumped onto her back and gnawed on her shoulder. It quickly chewed through the fabric of her cape and costume, revealing her yellow coat beneath. Mare Do Well shouted and reached for her back, but the creature dodged and squirmed around unpredictably. Harness leapt forward and scooped it up, standing on his hind legs. Mare Do Well delivered a few critical punches while it was trapped in Harness’ grip. He let go just as Mare Do Well turned around and bucked the creature in the belly, launching it into the air. Harness backflipped and kicked the airborne pony into the nearest wall. It crunched against the stone of the building and dropped like a sack of grain. “Get her to the closest hospital,” Mare Do Well said, gesturing to the old mare. She helped her onto Harness’ back and he ran off at an amazing pace, the muscles in his shoulders and thighs rippling under his spotted white coat. Mare Do Well felt a flurry in her stomach, but she ignored it. Quickly, she used a thin spool of wire in her utility belt to tie up the sleeping monsters and left them on a street corner. “Three to go,” she whispered to herself, and rushed onward in search of the vile ponies. She ran around for nearly half an hour without any luck, passing a few noticeable landmarks more than once. Angry at herself, she climbed a nearby building and scanned the city, but between the dark of night and the fog of Trottingham, Mare Do Well was at a loss. “Shoot…” she said to herself. “Lyra? You there?” There was no answer. Mare Do Well sighed and vaulted over the side of the building, sliding down a drain pipe. She pushed off the wall close to the ground and rolled into the middle of the road. From above, a little voice said, “Wooow!” Mare Do Well looked up at a purple colt leaning halfway out of his window, eyes wide and sparkling. “‘Ow’d you do that, Miss?” he asked. She tipped her hat. “Practice. Don’t try it, it’s very dangerous.” “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it, Miss,” the colt called down in a loud whisper. “Why have you got that dark costume on? You’ve a lovely yellow coat, I see!” Mare Do Well glanced at the hole in her shoulder and the sweaty yellow fur poking out of it. “Whoops. You’re not supposed to see that.” She made eye contact with him and held a hoof up to her mouth. “Promise to keep it a secret?” The colt nodded, quick and serious. “As sure as the rain falls, Miss. I won’t tell a soul!” “Good boy. Now go to bed. There are monsters out here tonight, but I’m going to take care of them.” “And rightly so, Miss.” The boy grinned and closed his window. “That was quite sweet,” said a voice behind Mare Do Well. She spun around and readied herself to fight… only to see Harness leaning against the wall in an alleyway. The huge stallion tossed his head to the left. “Shall we be off, then?” “Did you get the mare to the hospital?” “Safe and sound.” Harness left the alley and galloped down the street with Mare Do Well at his side. “You’re different than I expected,” Harness said in a steady voice. Mare Do Well grinned. “Glad to hear it. Is your power supernatural or are you just in great shape?” “A bit of both.” Harness turned a corner. “It didn’t come naturally, but it was no freak accident, either. I’ve had to train it.” “Whatever you’ve done, I’m glad you’re choosing to help this city rather than hurt it.” Without slowing his pace, Harness turned his hidden face to Mare Do Well and said, “I’d never dream of doing otherwise.” With Harness’ help, the other strange ponies were easy enough to track. He knew the city of Trottingham backwards and forwards. Though he was a stallion of few words, everything he said captured Mare Do Well’s attention. Even the way he described sections of the city, or took the time to point out a memorable landmark to help her find her bearings, fascinated Mare Do Well in a pleasant and unfamiliar way. Despite his size and brutish strength, he was so clearly kind and often gentle. Until they found another one of the monsters, of course. Harness spotted it first, picking the lock of an old apartment building, and barreled toward it at remarkable speed, ramming into the shriveled body with a great, strapped shoulder. The creature tumbled backward and landed hard on the ground, and before it could rise to hits hooves Mare Do Well came down from a spinning kick and knocked it out cold. “Two more?” asked Harness. Mare Do Well used her wire again, tying the creature down to a grate in the gutter. “Two more,” she confirmed, and off they went again without a moment of celebration. (/\/\) The night passed quickly, and the first inklings of the Sun shone white through the city’s fog. The earliest rising citizens of Trottingham were simultaneously relieved and disgusted to find five revolting ponies throughout the central streets, bound, writhing, and hissing at passerby. From a roof near the train station, Mare Do Well asked Harness, “Should we have gathered them in one place?” He shook his head. “The bobbies will pick them up soon enough. I want the whole city to know it’s safe and under my protection.” He softened his voice and added, “Our protection.” Mare Do Well smiled. “I’ll be leaving today, you know,” she said. “Yes, but… now I know I can call on you if I ever need help. You’re very different than I expected. You care about the ponies here, down to the last foal. I am grateful that you came and showed me your earnestness.” “I’m grateful that Trottingham is in such good hooves,” Mare Do Well said. “Can I count on your help if it’s needed in other cities as well?” Harness stayed quiet for a moment. “Have you met Facetfire?” Mare Do Well tilted her head. “Who?” Harness nodded slowly. “As far as I know, there are five who have followed in your hoofsteps,” he said. “Razorwing in Cloudsdale, with whom you are well acquainted. Spritemare in Manehattan, you’ve also met. I myself have sworn to protect Trottingham, and I am pleased that you consider me a suitable steward. I’ve heard rumors of another in Baltimare, calling himself Synapse.” His voice took on a different tone. “Then there is Facetfire, in Phillydelphia. I traveled there to meet her, hoping to form some sort of alliance.” Mare Do Well’s eyes widened. “You did? When?” “Only a month ago, before you went to Manehattan. Hearing stories of you and Razorwing, I thought surely there would be much to gain from a partnership with Facetfire. I’m afraid I was quite wrong.” “How do you mean?” Harness shook his head. “I’ve said too much already. She left a bad taste in my mouth when it comes to trusting others like us. But I shouldn’t have judged you so quickly by the same standards. I’m sorry.” “Don’t be.” Mare Do Well smiled again. “But thank you. I’m glad this worked out.” Harness nodded thoughtfully. “You can call on me, Mare Do Well, whenever you need me.” Mare Do Well felt her face flush and was grateful for her mask. “Good. Uh… s-same to you, of course.” He readied himself to leave the rooftop, but briefly paused. “Go and see Facetfire for yourself. Perhaps you’ll have a better effect on her. She may need it.” With that, he leapt, and sped to some far corner of the waking city. Watching him go, Mare Do Well sighed to herself and wondered when they might meet again.