Twilight moved forward, keeping her eyes ahead as per the instructions of her captor. She listened intently for Spike, not daring to step out of line for fear of her friend’s life. She wasn’t entirely sure where they were headed, but, if Z-544 was anything like her own universe, they were nearing the Everfree Forest.
“Pinkie, you’re making a mistake,” said Twilight.
“My only mistake was not stopping you when I had the chance,” spat Pinkie. “Now shut up and keep going.”
“Twilight…” whimpered Spike. Pinkie had bound his arms in rope and sat him atop her back for travel.
“You too, little man. Cram it.”
Twilight glanced down at the Container on her hoof, cursing TX for not instructing her on how to use it. Now, she was trapped, alone in a strange, hostile reality. Twilight tried to keep a level head, knowing that rational thinking was the only way to go. She decided that the best thing to do was listen to Pinkie Z-544, at least until she could clear things up.
As they neared the edge of the Everfree, Fluttershy’s cottage came into view. It was in a similar state of disrepair as the rest of the town, yet in a much more intentional way; the windows were boarded, but also spiked, with long wooden and steel spears jutting out. The wasn’t abandoned like quite like the library. It seemed to have been deserted, then returned to and fortified.
“Inside,” ordered Pinkie. Twilight obeyed, quickly trotting over to the door, Pinkie directly behind her. She pushed it open and stepped inside what was supposed to the warm, welcoming environment of Fluttershy’s home. But, much like with most things in Equestria Z-544, Twilight’s expectations of warmth and joy were shattered.
The living room was trashed, the sofa turned over on its side and sofa stuffing spilling out all across the floor. There were burns in spots on the floor, but none like Twilight had ever seen. It seemed like some sort of acid markings, much similar to the burn across Pinkie’s face. It was startling to see Fluttershy’s cottage in such a state. Twilight couldn’t count how many times Fluttershy had invited her over for tea and a chat in this little front room. This place barely resembled the room that Twilight remembered.
“Upstairs.” Pinkie’s harsh, unflinching tone was incredibly concerning to Twilight. She never could’ve imagined Pinkie speaking like this. She shook her head, then ascended the stairs. No point in thinking about that now. For the time being, Twilight had to focus on getting her and Spike to safety.
The bedroom was much more like the one in C-314 than the downstairs area. Twilight reasoned that Pinkie had went out of her way to keep the room neat and orderly. The floor was clear, save for a small burn here and there. In the middle of the room was Fluttershy’s bed, a large mass huddled beneath a sheet lying atop it. The mass moved faintly, rising up and down slowly near the center. Pinkie pushed past Twilight, taking care to keep Spike right where he sat.
“Come over here,” said Pinkie. She stood to the side of the bed, where Twilight soon joined her. “Fix her.”
“What do you mean?” asked Twilight nervously. “Fix who?” Pinkie’s lip twitched, but she managed to keep her anger contained, then grabbed the sheet and pulled it down.
What lay beneath was almost unidentifiable as a pony. Almost the entirety of its face was melted away, revealing rotten, graying flesh. Its eyes were covered in bloody rags, not unlike Pinkie’s right one. It breathed heavy, labored breaths, causing the few bits of its skin that remained to rise and fall to rhythm. Several tiny spikes, easily a dozen and none more than three inches in length, protruded from its neck, dripping some unknown, foul green liquid onto her chest. Its whole body looked like melting wax, with an unnatural sheen from strange, sticky fluids.
“W-what…?” Twilight was breathless, almost unable to form words. “What is… Who?”
“P-pinkie…?” It gasped, its voice low and gravelly, but distinguishably female. It was soft, faint, nearly a whisper. “You’re… back…”
“I told you I’d be right back, Shy,” said Pinkie, her voice softening a bit. “Don’t try to speak. We’re gonna get you fixed up.”
“That’s Fluttershy?” asked Spike. “What happened to her?”
“She happened,” hissed Pinkie, pointing to Twilight. “Fix her now.”
“I-I don’t know what you mean. I can’t fix her,” said Twilight, watching Fluttershy in horror. “I don’t even know what happened to her.”
“Your damn monsters infected her! Whatever juice you pumped into those freaks of yours started to spread, and now she’s turning into one of them. But you’re gonna fix her. Now.”
“I’m so sorry, but… I can’t. I didn’t do this.” Twilight backed away, shaking her head. “I know this is going to sound weird, but I'm not your Twilight. I come from another Equestria. I had nothing to do with this.”
“If she dies, or turns into one of those things…” Pinkie grabbed Twilight and pushed her nearer the bed. “Fix her right now.”
“Pinkie, I swear, I can't. I didn't do this!” Twilight tried to think of a way to explain things. “I'm not from here. I come from another dimension. Your Twilight is dead. I'm not the one who did this.”
“Fix her. Now.” Pinkie grabbed Spike from her back and pressed her knife against his throat. “Or your dragon dies.”
“T-twilight… Do something!” begged Spike. Twilight’s mind was racing. Time was running out. Twilight quickly glanced at Fluttershy, then Spike, then let out a tired sigh.
“Alright, fine!” said Twilight. “I'll… I'll see what I can do.” She approached the bed, preparing herself mentally for the examination. She pulled the sheet down all the way, and immediately regretted it. Fluttershy seemed to get worse the further down Twilight looked. Her middle was riddled with holes, some of them with spindly black spines protruding. The craters that didn’t have spikes oozed a horrid smelling green liquid. Her bones were distinctly visible through her thin, frail skin. Her left hindhoof was entirely absent from just above the fetlock down. It was a clean cut, as if amputated.
“H-how long has she been like this?” asked Twilight. “The leg? The infection?”
“She lost the leg three years ago,” said Pinkie. “That's when we bunkered down here. She didn't get sick until about six months ago. The holes and spikes are from four months. The goo is a new thing. Maybe a week and a half. How long until you can fix her?”
“Er… I'm not certain. I need a more detailed analysis.” Twilight pressed the button on her Container, bringing up the holographic keyboard. She had no idea how the device worked, nor did she fully understand the possible repercussions of using such technology without the necessary knowledge, but she was backed against a wall. She typed in the code “Z-544”, hoping that would do something. The Container beeped loudly, but had no other results.
“What was that?” demanded Pinkie. “You better not be trying anything funny, Sparkle.”
“No, no, nothing funny!” promised Twilight. “Just… Just doing a medical scan. You might hear a few more of those, nothing to worry about.”
“It better not be…”
“Pinkie? Could you maybe loosen these ropes?” asked Spike. “They’re really tight.”
“That’s the idea. But, don’t worry. As soon as your friend cures my friend, you’ll be free to go,” said Pinkie. “You know, I really should’ve killed you on sight. Both of you. I would’ve become a legend if I went back under with Twilight Sparkle’s head on a pike.”
“Back under?” Twilight typed as she spoke, this time entering in the code “X-215”, with similarly underwhelming results.
“We live underground. Your monsters don’t really like it down there. Too echoey,” said Pinkie. “Their echolocation or sonar or whatever doesn’t work. Bounces too much. That’s where the survivors are.”
“Except you,” noted Spike.
“Fluttershy couldn’t make it down there. I can’t leave her behind.”
Things got quiet as Twilight stewed. There simply had to call for help. She didn’t want to risk any magic; Pinkie had made it very clear that she would hurt Spike if Twilight so much lit her horn. Her only option was her Container, which she still didn’t understand in any facet.
“Are the others…” Twilight felt a lump form in her throat as she thought about what might’ve happened to them. Even though this reality was not her own, she still felt bad for her friends. “Did they make it?”
“What do you care?” snapped Pinkie. “You didn’t care when you were destroying the world.”
“Pinkie, I’m sorry,” said Twilight. “I know you don’t believe me. Why would you? But I am genuinely sorry that this happened to you. Nopony deserves this, least of all you. You're the brightest, nicest, most pure-hearted pony I know. You don't deserve this.”
Silence descended onto the room. Pinkie’s glare didn't waver, but Twilight noticed something new beneath the rage. Seh noticed intrigue and curiosity and, most importantly, doubt.
“AJ didn't make it. Said she wanted to stay on the farm. She was born there, she said she wanted to die there,” said Pinkie. “Rainbow… She could've made it. Most pegasi did. All she had to do was fly up to Cloudsdale. She's too loyal. Now, it's too late. Lost a wing. And Rarity… Nopony knows for sure. She thought the underground was getting too crowded. She took Sweetie and left for some place else to defend. Three weeks later, Sweetie shows back up here. Didn't speak to anyone. Didn't explain anything. Just bunkered down and cried.”
“Oh my god…” Twilight couldn't look Pinkie in the eye. All this death and destruction, caused by her. Even if it wasn't her per say, Twilight couldn't help but feel responsible. And she was going to leave it all behind to return to her own cush, perfect reality while this one burned and rotted.
“Yeah. Now shut up and fix her,” said Pinkie. Twilight had almost forgotten what she was meant to be doing. She looked back to her Container, straining her brain to come up with something, anything that could help her. If only she would’ve been the one to make the Container. She’d have put measures in place to prevent this from happening.
A lightbulb went off. It was so simple. She didn’t have to wish that she was the one who made it, because, in a sense, she was the one who made. It. She quickly typed in a single word. Recall.
There was an earsplitting shriek, the sound of reality itself being split. A portal formed directly next to Twilight, bringing with it TX, who quickly closed the portal behind herself.
“Where’d you…” TX trailed off as she surveyed the room, from Fluttershy to Pinkie. Pinkie quickly pulled Spike in front of her, pressing her knife against his throat.
“Stay where you are!” ordered Pinkie. “I’ll kill him!”
TX seemed to freeze for just a moment, her usually confident and knowing smile gone. Twilight began to panic; if TX could look at her own corpse and not so much as flinch, something that had her looking like this must have had terrible implications.
“Yikes. Pinkie Z-544.” And, just like that, she was back to normal. “You look like you’ve seen better days. Fluttershy’s not looking any better. That's not surprising. She never did well in apocalypse settings. Shame.”
“There’s two of you?! How?!”
“As I’m sure my friend told you, she’s from a different universe. I’m sure you didn’t believe her,” said TX, crossing the room. “Drop the knife.”
“Take another step and the dragon dies!” said Pinkie.
“Cool. Kill him, then.”
“What are you doing?!” demanded Twilight. She grabbed TX in her magic, keeping her in place. “She’s going to kill him!”
“Of course she is, but who cares? Did you forget about the infinite other realities?” asked TX. “Give me ten minutes, I’ll find a Spike from a near-identical reality to C-317 who has no Twilight. He’d be happy to have you, and you’d never even notice the difference.”
“Are you insane?!”
“You're the one screaming over what is effectively a non-issue,” scoffed TX. “What do you care if this one dies? He's replaceable!” She shook free, then turned to Pinkie. “So kill him so I can kill you and we can go about our business.”
“You’re bluffing,” said Pinkie. She tightened her grip on Spike, brought her knife closer. “She’s bluffing, right, little man?”
“She's bluffing,” said Spike, almost paralyzed by fear. “Don’t actually hurt me. She's bluffing!”
“I'm not bluffing,” said TX. “You wanna play the odds, Pinkie?” Twilight grabbed her in a stronger spell and brought TX to her, staring her in the eyes.
“Don’t do it!” Twilight held onto to TX tightly, refusing to let her go. “I swear, TX, if anything happens to him, I will make you regret it!”
“Your view is too small. He's insignificant in the grand scheme of things. That sentimentality will do nothing but hold you back,” said TX. “Basic economics dictates that things that are common aren't valuable. There's an infinite number of Spikes, therefore, this one is practically worthless.”
“He means something to me, damn it!”
“TC, close your eyes and think. Close your eyes.” TX winked. “Close your eyes, think this through, and, most importantly, trust me.”
Twilight had no reason to trust TX, none at all. She was a mad mare, no two ways about it. But Twilight was low on options. She couldn't save Spike, not by herself. Her only choice was to put her blind trust into her counterpart. Twilight looked to Spike, who silently begged her to save him, then let out a sigh. She closed her eyes. A flash rang through the air, like a camera going off. Screams soon followed it, then the sound of a body hitting the floor. Pinkie shouted in pain, as did Spike.
“You can open your eyes now, TC.” Twilight did as she was told. Spike and Pinkie were both laid out on the floor, clutching at their eyes. TX stood over Pinkie, pinning her to the ground. “Can you make some sort of binds? She’s stronger than she looks.”
“S-sure.” Twilight lit up her horn and quickly fabricated a length of rope from nothing. TX grabbed it and quickly tied Pinkie’s hooves together, pushing her onto her back with her hoof.
“What the hell did you do to me?!” demanded Pinkie. “Damn it, I can't see!”
“Yeah, a flashbang will do that to you,” said TX. “Your vision will be back soon. Oh, and sorry, Spike. I know you caught an eyeful of that, too.”
“It's okay. It's not so bad,” said Spike. He rubbed his eyes, then blinked repeatedly. “I can sorta see a little. It's blurry.”
“Dragons have thicker lenses than ponies, so you’ll be recovering faster than Pinkie.” TX grinned with satisfaction. “Come on over to TC, she was worried sick.”
“You were bluffing?” asked Twilight. Spike ran across the room, jumping into Twilight’s hooves. “You okay, buddy?”
“I’m fine. Just… Give me a minute to come back from that,” sighed Spike.
“Were you scared?” Twilight couldn’t help but smile at Spike’s nervous jittering.
“M-me? Scared? Don’t be crazy!”
“To answer your question, yes,” said TX. “I was bluffing. Of course I was. Did you hear the lunacy that came out of my mouth? Even ignoring sentimentality, replacing Spike would be difficult on a logistical level. There’s infinite realities, so for every one that has an available Spike, there’s countless more without one.”
“You couldn’t have told me that earlier?” asked Twilight.
“Not without blowing my cover. Good job on not blowing my head off, by the way.” TX brought up her Container’s interface and began inputting codes. “I do admit, that was a concern of mine.”
“How did you know Pinkie wouldn’t hurt him?” asked Twilight.
“If Pinkie really intended to hurt either of you, she would’ve stabbed you long before I got here,” said TX. “Besides, she was distracted. Trying to figure out where I came from.” She opened a portal besides them, glancing around for a bit. “It’s a shame we didn’t get anything from here. We’ll have to start from scratch. Let’s go back to R-322, see if the mobile lab has any useful data.”
“What about her?” asked Spike. He pointed at Pinkie, who kicked and thrashed helplessly in her bindings. “Let’s take her with us. Fluttershy, too. Maybe we can help them if we go back home.”
“No can do. I only own three Containers; mine, TC’s, and yours,” said TX with a shake of the head.
“So what?” asked Twilight. “They don’t need to open a portal.” Again, TX shook her head solemnly.
“Containers are a vital part to interdimensional travel. They’re tuned to your particular frequency, and keep your atoms from flying out through the fabric of reality,” explained TX. “They act as containers to keep you in place. That’s where the name comes from. If you tried to jump without one, any number of things could happen. You might end up in a reality on the opposite end of the multiverse. You might end up on the other side with all of your guts outside of you. You might reform on the other side with your molecules spread so far apart that you instantaneously liquify. Or you can fall through exactly where you wanted with no adverse effects.” TX chuckled darkly. “You wanna risk it?”
“Can’t you make more?” asked Spike.
“They’re powered by an element that doesn’t exist in most realities. It’s exceedingly rare. Besides… If we tried to put Fluttershy through the portal, in her state… We’d kill her.” Pinkie’s eye darted to TX, shooting her a savage glare. She squirmed and thrashed, trying to fight her way out of her ropes.
“Don’t hurt her! Don’t you dare hurt her!” shouted Pinkie. “She’s all I have left, damn it! If you’re gonna kill me, then do it! But you leave her alone!”
“Pinkie, calm down,” said Twilight. “Nopony is going to hurt her!”
“I won’t let you touch her! Get back!” As Pinkie thrashed, blindly, she inadvertently neared the portal that TX had opened. “Leave her alone!”
“Pinkie, be careful!”
“Don’t touch her!”
Pinkie made one last bold, sightless jump, and tumbled over. Before either Twilight could react, she rolled into the rip in reality, swallowed up by the multiverse.
“Pinkie!” Twilight ran to the portal, as if she could peer through and spot Pinkie before she fell too deep. “She's… She's gone…”
“She might be okay,” said TX faintly. “Like I said, there's a chance she emerged unscathed.”
“But that didn't happen.” Twilight’s voice was dead, devoid of energy or warmth. “Did it?”
TX grimaced at the grim response. She couldn't exactly blame her other self. She wasn't nearly as experienced. This whole thing could be quite overwhelming.
“No,” said TX. “Probably not.” She glanced back to the bed, where what remained of Fluttershy lay. “Don't worry about Fluttershy. I'll come back with some equipment and deliver her to the survivors underground. They probably won't fix her, but… it's better than leaving her here to die.”
“Thank you,” said Twilight. “At least she'll make it. That's all Pinkie wanted, right?”
“This is heavy…” muttered Spike.
“Let's pop over to R-332, grab the mobile lab, and then we can drop you off at home,” said TX. “I think you could use a rest, and you've gotta explain things to your friends. I can keep looking and come back for you once I have a lead.”
“Sure,” said Twilight. This was getting to be too much for her. A nice rest would do her wonders. Right then, she wanted nothing more than to see her friends. Pinkie and Fluttershy C-317. Not these twisted, rotting, bastardized iterations of them.
“Well, then,” said TX with a sigh. “After you.”
Twilight stooped down so that Spike could clamber onto her back. When he was secure, the two stepped through the portal, with TX following just behind them.
TX nearly tripped on her way out over some metal box that lay at her hooves. Judging by Twilight’s ginger rubbing of her leg, there was no “nearly” in her particular situation. TX scooped up the box, turning it over cautiously. On one face of the box was a lens of some sort. There face opposite the lens had the words “CALL ME” in scarlet letters. TX brought it near her Container, which hummed acceptingly.
“It's compatible with the Container,” said TX, closing the portal they had come from. “Where did it come from?”
“I'm not sure,” said Twilight. “It was just sitting there. What do we do with it?”
“Well, in my experience, mystery gifts like this with no origin shouldn't be opened, especially not while in the middle of an interdimensional chase for a murderer.”
“So we ditch the box?” asked Spike.
“Oh, Spike, where's your sense of adventure?” said TX with a grin. “Besides, in my past experience, I didn't have a mobile lab like this and two partners to help me out. Let's see what the cube has to say.”
TX crossed the room, grinning at her mobile lab. She configured the machine’s settings, which opened a compartment about the size and shape of the cube. She slipped it into the socket and tapped a few keys on her Container. The cube whirred to life, then beamed an image into the air.
The head of a unicorn looked back at them, the black helmet immediately giving her away as the Rogue. Both Twilight and TX stared, transfixed, as the Rogue slowly removed her helmet to show her face. She was a mirror image of Twilight, save for her mane, which was slightly darker and had no pink streak. TX tilted her head, her mouth slightly agape.
“Impossible,” she muttered. “But you’re… No!”
“Hello, X-215,” said the Rogue. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
“No! You’re dead! I watched you die!” TX tapped at her Container in an attempt to trace the signal throughout the multiverse. She knew that was a longshot, but it was her only option. “You’re supposed to be dead!”
“I didn’t take to it, I’m afraid,” said the Rogue, chuckling slightly. “Glad to see nothing has changed. You’re still incredibly rude. Haven’t even introduced me to your friend.”
“I’m Twilight C-317,” said Twilight stiffly. “And I don’t think you’ve introduced yourself, either.”
“Frankly, who I am and where I’m from are irrelevant, seeing as you’re either going to be off the case or in a bodybag in a few minutes,” said the Rogue. “But, if you must call me something… I am Twilight Sparkle of Equestria S-169.”
“And you’re killing Twilights. Why?” demanded Twilight. S-169 just laughed at her, shaking her head like a teacher disappointed in their student.
“Ah, you still have a lot to learn,” chuckled S-169. “Why would you agree to help TX when you don’t know the reason you’re here?”
“You’re killing ponies. You’re killing me. What more reason do I need to stop you?”
“I pity you, C-317. You’ve been dealt a bad hand in a game you don’t even know how to play. X-215 has set you up for failure on a tremendous scale. My advice to you is to get out while you can.”
“And she’s supposed to just listen to you? Why?” asked Spike. “Because you have our best interests at heart?”
S-169 seemed very taken aback. No response came to her immediately. She simply stared at Spike for a few moments before reality came crashing back to her.
“C-317 is one of the better iterations of our possible lives,” said S-169. “So far, you’ve overcome every potentially world-ending event that has come your way. All of your friends are still around, and you even managed to get yourself a magic student. It’s more or less perfect. If you leave X-215 now, I will spare you and your world. This isn’t about you, C-317. Stay out of it.”
“You must know that I can’t do that,” said Twilight. “As long as you’re on the loose, I have to chase you.” Twilight stomped her hoof firmly, unwavering in her conviction. As much as she distrusted TX, and as many questions as she had, it was immensely clear that S-169 was the problem that needed to be solved.
“Shame. I’m going to have to kill you now. I suggest you return home, in any case,” sighed S-169. She returned her helmet to her head. “I’m sure it’ll be some small comfort if you and your friends are all together when you die.”
“Don’t you dare hurt them!” ordered Twilight. “Why are you doing this? What do you gain.”
“Ask your friend. As a matter of fact, there’s a few things you should ask her,” said S-169. “How do I know her? Why am I meant to be dead? Why doesn’t she follow her own advice? Not that it matters. Answers will do you a fat lot of good when you’re dead. I wish I could say I look forward to it, but that isn’t the case. Goodbye, C-317. And X-215?” S-169 chuckled superiorly. “If you thought your shoddy firewalls would be strong enough to repel the communicator’s virus, you’re dead wrong.”
“What?” demanded TX. “Virus? What are you—”
“And that’s your whole database, thanks,” said S-169. “Your map is more complete than mine, that’ll make my job far easier. See you around.”
The video disconnected, leaving the room completely silent. TX rushed to the mobile lab, tapping at the dead keys in a futile attempt to revive the machine. When nothing happened, she kicked it firmly and swore, then opened up a portal with her Container.
“We gotta go back,” said Spike. “The girls… Maybe all of Equestria… They’re in danger.”
“Very true, but, in this case, returning to help will only insure that you all die together,” said TX. “Through the portal, quickly. I’m going to do everything in my power to save your reality.”
“If we’re not going to my dimension,” said Twilight. “Where are we going?” TX grunted angrily, pushing the useless brick of metal that used to be her lab through the portal. She let out an exerted sigh before looking up to face Twilight with an air of intensity and determination she didn’t possess before.
“Mine.”