//------------------------------// // Level Four: Break it Down // Story: Delinquency // by Daemon McRae //------------------------------// Level Four: Break it Down The weekend had come quicker than they boys anticipated. Of course, it usually feels like that, once Friday afternoon happens. Mondays and Tuesdays and Wednesdays feel like the weekend will never come. Thursday you make plans. Friday you just stare at the clock. Given all that went on in their lives, however, it was easy to keep yourself so busy you didn’t notice until that final bell rang. Normally, they’d spend their weekends relaxing. Unfortunately the upcoming Fall Formal, which was now only a week away, left them with plenty to do, both socially and personally. Like most afternoons, they’d all hitched a ride in Rubble’s station wagon. Yet another hand-me-down from his father. He’d gotten his license as soon as he could so that he could throw himself behind the wheel, and it had been quite the useful tool in their last year of monster-hunting. Of course, this led to more than a few bumps and bruises along the way, and the normally once-pristine white four door was now a tragic shade of spotted brown, with several dents and scratches along its hide. The rear passenger window was in fact just a sheet of plastic held in place with a generous amount of tape, only two of the tires matched, and the trunk never quite opened and closed right after Dusty had landed on it wrong. The engine itself worked as well as it should for its age, through the combined efforts of Rubble and Uncle Jack, and it got from point A to point B without much to-do. Even though it looked like it had gone a few rounds with a landslide, that only gave it the perfect camouflage in the neighborhood where they’d set up their hideout; it looked like every other beat-down relic of machinery that littered the roadside here. Just parked better. As it pulled into a makeshift parking space comprised of a tarp fastened to some old fencing and a generous square of shoveled-out gravel, ‘Bumper’, as Rubble affectionately referred to it came to a halt, the engine barely clicking off before four boys piled out of it. Dusty and Treble moved to the back of the car, where the former fought with the trunk handle for a minute or so before the latter gave it a swift kick in the side, prompting the hatch door to pop open and catch Dusty in the nose. “OW. You FUCK I hate it when you do that,” Dusty grumbled, holding his face in his hand and checking for blood. Finding none, he leaned under the hatch and lugged out a large metal lockbox only a couple feet shorter than he was. Seeing his friend struggle with the weight, Treble grabbed the other end, throwing the backpack he’d dug out over his shoulder. “Sorry, Double D. Lemme help. Hey, you bring your laptop?” Treble added as an afterthought, not seeing the bag in the back with the rest of their stuff. “I got it!” rasped Spooks. Treble turned his head to see the spotted kid pat a black square bag on his side, which fit oddly well with his usual old-timey attire. He’d left the vest at home this time, settling instead for a large wool jacket. It was starting to get cold and the skinny kid had problems with low temperatures. More than a few ‘cold spot’ jokes had been made at his expense. Dusty just grunted, nodded, and surged forward with the huge metal box in one arm, almost pushing Treble over, who quickly fell into step. Rubble ducked in behind the two as they hauled the crate into the hideout, digging the last few bags (another backpack and his large duffel), out of the trunk, before slamming it shut. He then kicked it a couple of times until he heard it latch with a satisfying ‘clunck”. “Right, you guys set up in the sitting room, I bought stuff for burgers tonight. And yes, Spooks, I also bought some TV trays. Uncle Jack swung me by the store yesterday and I dropped ‘em off last night. I’d’a told y’all yesterday but you lot had already gone home,” Rubble explained, shifting the backpack, which he had soon discovered was full of more of Spooky’s books, farther up on his shoulder. Falling in line with the rest of the group, who were all chatting happily about the concept of food, they all marched into their ‘secret’ base. It took a few minutes until everything was set down and stashed somewhere they weren’t going to trip on it. The large trunk they’d just set in front of the couch as a makeshift table/footrest. Stretching out on the juryrig furniture, Dusty mused, “Ey. We should leave this big-ass box here when we’re done. Makes a great table thing.” Treble, who was currently digging out the food from the backpack he’d hauled in and handing it to Rubble, gave Dusty a sideways glance. “Table thing? You mean, you know, a table?” Rubble rolled his eyes, taking the bag of burger patties and assorted fixings back to the kitchen while Treble and Dusty argued semantics. Spooky made himself at home in his usual lounge chair, leaning the book bag against one side and fishing out a rather sizeable tome. Contrary to the usual raggedy and well-read journals and references his grandfather had left behind, this one looked new-ish. There was still some wear around the edges, some yellowing of the pages, and more than a bit of tarnish on the cover. Compared to the usual faire, however, it looked basically freshly minted. Rubble glanced up from the cooking station and, noticing the large book in Spooky’s lap, asked, “Where’d that mother of an encyclopedia come from? That’s new.” The other two boys, who had resorted to immature scuffling on the couch, stopped long enough to glance at the large book. Spooky looked even smaller than usual by comparison, but somehow the image of him in an old reading chair with a grand tome in his lap suited him. Treble and Dusty unpinned each other from the couch, and moved to sit on their knees in front of Bones. “Tell us a story, Grandpa,” said Treble, his voice raising a few octaves in a childish impression. “Story time, story time!” Dusty bounced in his seat, looking like an excited five-year old. Bones was used to the reaction. To him it was an old joke, one they’d used many times. “Alright, you little shits, gather ‘round. This is the story of how I bought a book on the internet.” Dusty stopped mid-bounce, his childish impersonation giving way to confusion. “Where the hell did you get money? That book doesn’t look cheap, even if it is almost as beat-ass-old as Rubble’s car.” Bones just raised an eyebrow, idly turning the page. “I sold some of my paintings.” The whole room cringed. Treble gave up his kiddish charade and jumped back into the couch. “Who the hell would by that nightmare fuel?” Now, normally, such a comment would be rather offensive to an artist. Spooks, however, had long since accepted that his paintings were anything but ordinary. He had a talent for… evoking certain emotions with his work. Not to say he wasn’t a skilled artist. In fact, that was part of the problem. He was excellent at detail, and color, and several more technical artistic terms that the other boys had never bothered to learn how to spell, much less their meanings. It just so happened that his talent and eye for detail lent itself to some truly horrific imagery. Usually involving things with too many limbs, eyes, or appendages of the indescribable variety. “Found a guy in Manehatten who runs a production company that does indie horror films and this web series about like, haunted stores and office buildings and junk. It’s not that great.” The rest of the group dismissed the subject, not really wanting to know more. Dusty, who had also reclaimed his spot on the couch, finally asked, “So what the hell is that book, anyway?” Not looking up from the page, Bones explained, “It’s an old grimoire put together from a now-defunct coven from Trottingham. There’s a bunch of stuff in here about old rituals and material spellwork. You know, the kind of stuff that doesn’t require extradimensional horse magic. I actually bought it last month, but didn’t get it in the mail until like, a week ago. I dug it out cause I thought it might have something about this Hundred-Handed One ritual. So far, nothing specific, but there’s some tangentially related stuff here that is giving me some ideas.” Rubble gave him a knowing smirk, the burger patties just starting to sizzle on the griddle. “What kind of ideas?” “Like, ‘where to put the dynamite’ ideas,” Bones answered, his gaze still focused on the pages. His smile mirrored his friends, however. Treble and Dusty traded excited glances, but their barely-concealed glee gave way to confusion and concern as an unfamiliar sound rung out through the room. Someone was knocking on the door. The group looked to the big metal security door that served as the front entrance to their home away from home, as another knock rang out. It was polite, short, and evenly spaced. So, in short, no one they knew. At least not off the top of their heads. “I’ll get it,” Treble said with no lack of sarcasm, making a show of standing up and striding over to the door. His hand rested on the door handle, though he didn’t open it. Instead, he called through the thick metal, “Who is iiiiit?” “Just open the damn door, Deep,” game a familiar feminine voice. It sounded angry, which wasn’t unusual for him, but he couldn’t quite place it. Treble undid a few locking mechanisms, including a bolt that led into the concrete wall (courtesy of Uncle Jack), and pulled the door open with some to-do. His curious expression gave way to a distressed glare as he saw who it was. “The fuck do you want, Baconator?” Sunset Shimmer crossed her arms and glared daggers at the greeting. “We need to talk. You gonna invite us in, or not?” “Us?” Treble asked, curiosity mixing its way back into his features as he glanced behind Sunset. Tucked away almost into a corner, was Twilight sparkle, holding a large bag of her own. Only a few feet away from her was, to Treble’s surprise, another Twilight Sparkle. “Oh, FUCK me!” he cried, throwing his hands in the air and marching back to the couch. The three girls strode into the room, taking in the less-than-pristine surroundings with a mixture of curiosity, appall, and hesitation. They were met with an almost matching set of glares from the residents. Dusty rolled his eyes and dug out a pack of cigarette, passing one to Treble. The green-skinned boy occupied himself with lighting his as Dusty asked, not-so-politely, “The hell are you doing here? How do you even know where this place is?” Sunset opened her mouth to retort, when the Twilight who wasn’t wearing glasses offered sheepishly, “We, uh, we followed your car. It’s not exactly hard to find.” Spooks sighed heavily, slamming his book shut and setting it aside. He stood up and walked into the kitchen, where he gently removed a rather sharp spatula from the angry grip of a visibly distressed Rubble. The scrappy kid took the hint and stepped away from the kitchen, where they kept all the sharp things and hot metal. Bones took over cooking while Rubble took the reading chair, his expression not lightening in the least. “You followed us?! Why?!” Rubble growled, partially wishing he still had something sharp in his hands. He looked at the trunk for half a second with a sense of longing. Sunset glared at the Twilight who had spoken up, then launched into her explanation. “Because if we leave you alone to do whatever it is you guys are going to do to stop this… giant monster hand thing-” “Hecatoncheires,” both Twilights and Spooks said in chorus. “-whatever. Look, I don’t know what kind of game plan you had, but it sounded an awful lot like throwing yourselves into an army of armed golems hoping to take out as many as you can before you do something stupid like die. So I asked Princess Twilight-” she gestured to the one without glasses, “-if she’d ever heard of these things. And she had some insight into the subject I thought you might want to hear.” “And you decided to invite yourselves into our humble abode, why exactly?” Dusty grunted. Sunset returned his glare. “Because you skate away as soon as you see us. You,” she pointed to Treble, “Spent a good five minutes earlier this week explaining exactly what your problem with me is. This one,” she jabbed a thumb at Rubble, “had to have a metal spatula taken away from him just because I walked into the room. “And frankly, Spooks, you scare the crap out of me.” “No, that’s fair,” Bones agreed, with a satisfied smile. “Right. So I figured the best way for you lot to actually stand still and listen to what we had to say was to corner you here, instead of at school where you could just run off or find any number of excuses to ignore us,” Sunset concluded. “You,” Treble corrected. Shimmer’s eyes went wide. “Excuse me?” Rubble crossed his arms and smiled mirthlessly. “He said you. This one,” he jabbed a thumb at the Twilight with glasses, who had stepped off to the side and was standing in the cleanest spot of room she could find, “just got dragged into all of this, and is making the best of it. And the Princess here, well, we’ve met her all of twice, and frankly, she’s not that bad. You’re the one we generally have a problem with.” As if to demonstrate this fact, Spooks stepped away from the griddle long enough to find a fold-out metal chair in the corner. He unfolded it and set it on the floor, dusting it off with a paper towel and gesturing for the more timid Twilight to take a seat, which she did so hesitantly. Sunset just spluttered indignantly, while the princess asked, “If you don’t mind, I’d like to know exactly what your problem with my friend is,” she said sternly, looking very much in that moment like the royalty she was. An effect that was only slightly diminished by the purple t-shirt and dark blue jeans she was wearing. Dusty’s eyes made the return trip around his orbital sockets, pulling a now-lit cigarette out of his mouth and counting off on his fingers. “Let’s see. She made our freshman year a living hell, hijacked our minds and tried to send us unarmed into a world full of magic ponies and fire-breathing dragons to fight a war for her, unleashed an ungodly amount of magic into the world, which we’ve been spending the last year hack-and-slashing our way through the rabble and leftovers of trying to keep people alive, and then she thinks all she has to do is fire a bunch of ‘Friendship Lasers’ everywhere and everyone just suddenly loves her. No, honestly I can’t think of anything,” he finished, his voice so thick with sarcasm he felt like he might need to wash his shirt twice. Sunset’s eye twitched indignantly, while Princess Twilight spoke up again. “Setting aside most of those grievances, which I’m sure you’re going to want to settle on your own time-” “-this IS our own time!” Rubble barked, leaning forward in his chair. Treble motioned for him to lean back, and take a breath. Rubble complied, although it didn’t make him feel any better. “-fair enough. But there are a few things in that list I’d like to address. For one, the presence of magic in this world isn’t Sunset’s fault,” the Princess explained. The room went a bit quiet after that, as this news was met with both disbelief and confusion. Even Sunset was taken aback. “Um… what do you mean? There was no magic in this world until I brought the crown here.” Princess Twilight sighed, and walked over to a loose beanbag chair a few feet from Rubble’s chair. “No, Sunset, you didn’t. Think about it. If there was no magic in this world, how had the sirens been able to stay alive so long? How did Starswirl even forge a connection between the two worlds if there wasn’t enough energy on this side of the portal to keep it open? There’s been magic in this world just as long as there has in Equestria: it’s just so drastically different than what we use that we’re basically incompatible. That’s why Equestrian magic works so differently here. The ambient magic of this realm interferes with it at almost a fundamental level. I mean, would anything like the geodes be even remotely possible in Equestria?” Sunset tapped her chin in thought. “Well… ok, I guess that all makes sense. So none of this stuff has been my fault?” Twilight shook her head. “I didn’t say that. The crown was definitely your fault,” Twilight said with a smirk. Sunset smiled guiltily. “And the sirens wouldn’t have come to the school if they hadn’t detected the Equestrian magic we had to use to stop you.” Glasses Twilight spoke up, raising her hand like she was in class. “And I wouldn’t have built that magic detector if not for all the magic you girls threw around fighting the sirens and… well… each other.” Spooks pulled a few burgers off the grill, setting up buns on plates and laying out the fixings for dinner. Treble and Dusty stood up to get food; Rubble was still fuming slightly. “Also,” Spooks added, “If Adorkable here,” he gestured to Not-Princess Twilight, who blushed, “Hadn’t Hadokened the statue holding the portal, none of that extradimensional magic would have escaped, hit the cave in the Everfree -yes we know about that we’re not stupid- and that mess wouldn’t have gone down. So you should really be thanking her for your super powers.” Rubble grinned malevolently. “So yeah, really all of that is exactly your fault. So wait,” he added, giving an attentive glance to the Princess now sitting beside him. “Where did all these monsters and crap come from? If there’s always been magic here, the monsters must have been around this whole time, right? So why are we only seeing them in droves over the last year or so.” The Princess gave an apologetic look to Sunset. “Well, actually, that part is all of our fault. With all of the magic we’ve all been throwing around, we’re basically a lighthouse to the monster’s boats.” Rubble raised an eyebrow. “So… what your saying is we should be mad at all of you?” Princess Twilight sighed. “No. What I’m saying is that, while you do have some valid complaints against Sunset-” “-HEY!-” “-you shouldn’t just be shoveling all of your frustration at your current situation on her. No, she isn’t making things any easier, but she’s also trying to do her part to clean up the mess. That’s what she did with the Sirens, and the Friendship Games, and Gaia Everfree. She might not be diving headfirst into every supernatural problem you guys are, but they’re not all just sitting on their haunches, either,” she offered. Sunset just stood there, slightly uncomfortable. Spooks sighed, picking up his own plate of food, and pulled another fold-out chair out of the corner. He dropped it with a bit less ceremony than Twilight’s, and didn’t bother cleaning it up, but he dropped it just a few feet away from their ‘guest’. “Uh, thanks. Look, I know I treated you all horribly before. I treated everyone horribly before. And I’m still trying to make up for that. But you can’t just stay mad at me all the time, right?” Treble took a deep drag from his cigarette, and exhaled showily. “You make it kind of easy, actually.” “What?” Shimmer asked, confused. “I mean, it’s been almost a whole year, and you’ve never once apologized to us,” the wannabe musician explained, not looking at her. Apparently the ceiling was far more interesting. Both Twilights looked at her, with varying degrees of incredulity. “You never said ‘I’m sorry’?” Sunset looked around sheepishly, with a guilty smile. “Um… maybe? I thought it was kind of implied with the whole saving the world thing?” Bespectacled Twilight smacked her forehead while the Princess just groaned. “Oh, my god, Sunset,” the former groaned.