//------------------------------// // Chapter 4: Riding Coach // Story: Spectrum of Lightning // by Seriff Pilcrow //------------------------------// The late afternoon sun shone through the windows of a passenger train as the suburban meadows of Vanhoover faded into the horizon, giving way to the plant-based meadows of the Western Equestrian countryside. By the aisle, Twilight Velvet slumped at her seat, a cloud of magenta magic and electrical sparks silently levitating in front of her face. Her mind shuffled through several equations, the magic mist bending and twisting every time she changed a variable. An exponent here: the cloud turned purple. A square root there: the cloud returned to its magenta color. “Please don't perform dangerous spells onboard, miss,” declared a stern stallion's voice. His baritone caused the fur on Velvet's withers to raise. Nonetheless, Velvet's body barely budged; this kind of imposing tone was all too familiar to her. Cops. “Come on, it's not even close to seventy milliamps," protested Velvet, not even bothering to face the guard. “Miss, deactivate that spell right now,” the voice repeated. The magical cloud dissipated into the aether as Velvet rolled her eyes. “There. Happy?” Velvet got no answer. The officer merely walked forward, digging his purple unshorn fetlocks into the rug and turning his head to avoid eye contact. Velvet stuck her tongue out at him, only to suck it back in when the cop turned around to scowl at her. He should be glad she wasn't experimenting with teleportation magic. It had been around six hours since getting aboard the New Friendship Express. Velvet wasn't one to overpack. On this trip, she'd only brought her journal, some papers for her lecture in Vanhoover, and her tools. Her motorcycle was the only piece of baggage that might have given her trouble, and while the rear baggage car of the New Friendship Express normally forbade anything that wasn't a hoof-powered safety bike, a little bribery went a long way. As Velvet leaned back on her seat, her eyes drifted to the notebook from earlier. Its rustic brown cover stood out from the bright red vinyl of the empty seat it was lying on. Its edges were rugged; its cover, wrinkled from a dried stain. A shimmer danced on her eyes as her foreleg slowly extended towards the notebook. “No,” muttered Velvet, her foreleg recoiling. Curiosity, which often fueled her tinkering, was sometimes more a vice than a virtue. “It's not mine. I don't have any business with it.” She blinked. “Ah, screw it.” A cloud of magic engulfed the notebook and brought it towards Velvet's forelegs, opening it as it went. What did she have to lose? In the back of her mind, the shadow of a blue stallion shook his head at her. The first thing to catch Velvet's eyes was the sketch of a mare in a ragged cloak. She was lying on the ground with her neck stretching upwards, her curved horn nearly touching the margin. For a second, Velvet thought this was a self-portrait, but the writing below the sketch told her otherwise. “‘Mage Meadowbrook the Fourth,’” mouthed Velvet. Any foal out of Princess Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns could name-drop the original Mage Meadowbrook for an exam question. Add in her less famous and sometimes similarly-named descendants, though, and even postgrads would start to get names mixed up. That some of Mage Meadowbrook's descendants usually ended up migrating to different areas and integrating with the population did not help matters. "Finally! Here's a pony who knows her stuff! Shame, don't think we'll ever get the chance to talk." To the right of Meadowbrook the Fourth was another sketch: a triangular prism decorated with ornate patterns—or at least, as ornate as could be accomplished with quick pencil strokes. The corners of Velvet's lips curled upward upon seeing the prism. It brought back memories of college days: the times Night Light tried to impress her with his collection of mirrors, lenses, star maps, and spoon sets. Astronomy wasn't Velvet's thing, either; all she did in those moments was smile and nod. And here she was now, having made him her own night light on the horizon. Velvet turned the page, greeted by more pencil sketches. Surrounded by a circular halo of smudges, a pony—or rather, a bundle of sticks drawn in the shape of a pony—stood spread-eagle over some fields. Smudges of graphite surrounded the pony, jagged forks sprouting from them and streaks of rain falling to the fields below. “Pegasus magic?” Velvet speculated. “But that can't be right. That pony doesn't have wings…or a horn for that matter.” There was a block of text below the drawing. Maybe it could shed some light on what was going on. ‘…mohatag kini ug tanang kolor nga balangaw, paspas na walay itandi, ug kapangyarihan sa ibabaw sa kilat, pero mahitabo siya pinaagi sa usa ka bug-at na luwan.’ Velvet quirked an eyebrow. “What?” At least whoever wrote this jumble of syllables had the sense to provide subtitles. “…give her all the colors of the rainbow, unimaginable speed, and authority over thunder, but curse her with an unfathomable burden.” – William Henry Trot's translation Odd for Meadowbrook the Fourth to make something like this, and so far away from home, too. Group effort, maybe? The fact that the earliest records weren't written in her native language implies that… Velvet stroked her chin with the tip of her hoof. “Curious…” she mouthed, putting the pieces together. A way to make lightning without using pegasus or unicorn magic? Assuming this was all true, whoever wrote this notebook must've stumbled onto something big. A twinkle appeared in Velvet's eye. This could be her lucky break. But the twinkle departed just as quickly as it had arrived. The owner of the notebook was probably all the way back in Vanhoover, never to see their notes ever again. “Gotta make do with what I have.” Velvet sighed as she put the notebook back on the empty seat, resigning herself to staring at the meadows speeding by. As the sun retired and the lights inside of the train switched on, the car took on a warm yellow glow. A small herd of passengers, Velvet included, made their way to the dining car down the rear, the aroma of carbonara reeling them in. Dinner would have to wait for Velvet, though. There were other nuts to chew. After escaping the flood of ponies in the dining area, she found herself walking down the corridors of the rear sleeping cars. The New Friendship Express opted for a more personalized setup with separate rooms, in contrast to the bunk bed cars of the old steam engines. Good thing, too: the musty smell that came out of them was way too much for Velvet to handle. Three sleeping cars later, Velvet entered the last car of the train: the cargo hold. The cold, air-conditioned gust swept her mane and caused her fur to stand on end, but it soon gave way to a drafty, suffocating heat. There was a lone security guard near the door, but his slumped form and tongue flopping out of his mouth told Velvet that he wouldn't be a problem if she kept her voice low. With only bare, flickering lightbulbs illuminating the otherwise dark baggage car, she crept towards the rear, crates and duffel bags looming over her in the large shelves on one side of the aisle, the other side housing a large sliding door. Looking up at a skylight, she saw a bunch of train signals zip by, casting a green glow for half a second. Down the end of the hall was a lovely bunch of bicycles. There they were, standing in a row and resting on bike stands. Large ones, small ones, some as big as Velvet's body. But the one Velvet caressed with her eyes was the bulkiest one—the only one powered by combustion instead of pedal. “Missed me, Evy?” Velvet glided a hoof over the motorcycle's bright red frame and yellow fire sticker. The latter wasn't her idea, but Night Light sure knew how to match colors. A glint of metal near the fender caught Velvet's eye. Something in her mind clicked. The booster solenoid was loose. “Not again.” She could've sworn she'd tightened the screws enough the last time. The handlers must've jostled the motorcycle around when they were loading it. Anyway, not a disaster—she didn't even need her tools. But this was just like that banging in the hotel, only without the ponies running downstairs and crashing through windows. On second thought, this wasn't like that banging in the hotel. Velvet squeezed between a mountain bike and her motorcycle. Leaning on the former, she squinted between the booster valve and its respective tank, catching a faint, metallic whiff of nitrous oxide and hydrogenated arcanite. Small clouds of magic straightened the solenoid and tightened the screws around it. “Give it a twist, and that's the gist of what my stallion said…” Velvet cooed softly. The metallic smell faded, telling Velvet that everything was taken care of. Time to head back and get some R 'n' R. Several minutes later, after washing up and satisfying her grumbling tummy, Velvet reentered the coach car, curling the back of her mane as she climbed onto her seat. The cabin was silent, save for the grinding of the train's wheels and the occasional whispered chatter. Nopony sat beside her or heck, even in the seat in front of her. Not that big of a deal, although some company would be nice. As Velvet lounged on her seat, she found herself staring at the notebook yet again, its stains contrasting sharply with the slick, clean fabric of the seat in front of her. Did she really want to read more now? A small pang of grogginess from her head dissuaded her from such endeavors. A stranger bumped into her and crashed through a window, and all she got was this weird-ass notebook. Velvet curled into a sleeping position and slowly closed her eyes. [Best worry about it tomorrow. A pair of rose-colored eyes crossed her vision. Velvet sat up. Her heart raced. She rubbed her eyes and squinted out the window. Gone. Or was it? Velvet opened the window with her magic and poked her body out. “Hey!” she called out as the wind howled across her mane. “Who's there?!” Nothing. “Pony of few words, huh?” Velvet called out into the darkness. “It's rude to leave a mare waiting!” As Velvet closed the window, she turned her head and saw everypony sitting up and staring perplexedly at her. The purple security guard, in particular, had contorted his face in a scowl, which would have made Velvet laugh if it weren't for their prior history. The unicorn's ears folded back, and she gave an awkward chuckle. “I…was, uh…sending a prayer to the princess…” Velvet melted into her seat, keeping her head low and averting her eyes from the other passengers. “Ugh, maybe I'm just getting jumpy. It was probably nothing.” The words were slurred out of her mouth as she ventured into the dreamscape, one last thought imprinting itself into her mind. Probably nothing, my ass. The bright morning sun shone through windows of the dining car as the chipper voice of a recorded announcement told Velvet that the New Friendship Express was about to leave Tall Tale. She munched on some french toast as inertia jerked her backward and the train began to move. The glass of water on her table shook. It would have tipped over onto the mysterious notebook were it not for Velvet's quick reaction. After Velvet had summed up the previous day's events in her journal, the train was well on its way through the countryside once again. Chewing bits of the eraser end of her pencil, Velvet slouched on the table and rested her head on her hoof—notepads, pens, and other detritus scattered across the table. The sooner she could decipher this notebook, the sooner she could decide how to write her article. So far, no such luck. All Velvet had was that whatever this “Spectrum” was could probably be some kind of weather magic concentrated into a solid mass, but even that was just a hypothesis. She'd have to confirm it with a pegasus in weather management technologies or, better yet, the owner of the notebook. Something shifted in the corner of her vision. Velvet's heart skipped a beat. She gasped and looked up, not realizing she was covering the notebook with her hooves. “Yes?” said an attendant at the aisle, looking back over her shoulder. Her uniform emphasized her hindquarters quite well, and there was a deep blush upon her face as she stared at Velvet. “Oh, sweetheart, I'm flattered,” Velvet said, regaining her composure and putting up a facade. “But I'm afraid my barn door doesn't swing that way.” Once the mare was out of sight, however, Velvet groaned, cupped her face with her hooves, and then stared at the mysterious notebook. It stared back, or at least, that was how Velvet felt. She scoped the room from her seat, her eyes jumping from pony to pony as they went about their business. There was a burly pegasus stallion with a rainbow mane at the table opposite of her. He raised an eyebrow at Velvet before returning to his coffee. There was a couple at a booth behind her, scornful looks on their faces as they pointed at various ponies in the car. Something in Velvet's mind told her that they were talking about her, but she pushed that thought out of her mind. There was a mare entering one of the bathrooms near the door. Velvet only got a view of the silhouette of her tail before the door closed behind her. Down the dining hall, there was a gray unicorn in a business suit, holding a newspaper in front of his face. His eyes shifted. Velvet scooted away from him in response. Maybe the conspiracy theorists were right all along about the existence of S.M.I.L.E.? "Crap, what am I thinking?" Velvet allowed her head to drop onto the table. "Get a grip on yourself, Twilight. It's just a notebook." Two ponies—one wearing a tan, hooded jacket and the other a dark cloak—emerged from Velvet's peripheral vision, walking down the aisle. The latter turned to the former. “Is this really necessary?” a somewhat gravelly mare's voice spoke. “After that stunt you pulled in Vanhoover, yes,” the jacketed pony said, the deep voice of a stallion rumbling out. “Now zip it. We don't want to attract any more attention.” Velvet's ears twitched. “Okay, okay,” said Cloaked Mare. “Look, I'll concede: it wasn't the best thought-out course of action…” As the two ponies reached the door at the end of the car and their voices faded into inarticulate murmurs, Velvet peeked out to watch them. Cloaked Mare looked around as her partner opened the door to the other car. She moved her head too fast for Velvet to get a good look of her face, but there was one thing that Velvet managed to catch before Cloaked Mare exited. Rosy eyes. That settled it. Once the door closed behind the couple, Velvet got up from her seat and walked towards the door. She braced herself, hoof on the doorknob and an ear at the jamb. The door burst open. The train's wheels rattled underneath her. “Hey, did you guys say something about—” Where were they? They had disappeared down that door a second ago. Velvet was in one of the coach cars; there were plenty of heads turning towards her, but none she recognized. Frowning, she got on her hind legs to look over the crowd for their distinctive clothes, then settled on all fours when the search proved fruitless. “What did they do—vanish into thin air?” She waved a hoof out through the window at the sun. “Are you doing this on purpose?!” The crowd chatter that came with the territory of being in a passenger train died down sometime in the mid-afternoon. Most of the ponies in Velvet's cabin had either dozed off or resigned themselves to watching the—now rather monotonous—countryside zip through the windows. Twilight Velvet, on the other hoof, levitated the mysterious notebook in front of her face. To hell with it. She was going to write an article on this notebook—even if it was going to take years to study, and even if she would never meet its owner. Though the latter would be a nice bonus. “So that's why Meadowbrook the Fourth got roped into making this ‘Spectrum,’” Velvet said to herself upon finishing a page. “Required secondary powers. Make sure a pony doesn't burn herself up while trying to ride her own lightning, so to speak. But that doesn't answer the question of who you worked with to make this or heck, how you gave ponies these badass abilities…” Velvet canceled her magic, allowing the notebook to fall to the floor as she leaned back, air escaping from her mouth. This was way out of her league. Maybe Night Light knew somepony who could help. “You have something that belongs to me.” A gravelly mare's voice shook Velvet from her thoughts. She quickly turned her head to the pony on the aisle, taking a few seconds to survey her form. At least, she tried to survey her form, but Cloaked Mare kept her head craned toward the floor, preventing Velvet from seeing her face. “About damn time. Is this how you roll? You like to size up your meat from the shadows before closing in for the kill?” Cloaked Mare said nothing as she extended a hoof to the notebook. “Nuh uh uh.” Velvet swiped the notebook with her telekinesis before Cloaked Mare's hoof could touch it. “How do I know this is really yours? Want it? Answer my riddles.” Probably just a waste of time, but after the past few days, it couldn't hurt to be cautious. “What are you, the Sphinx?” Cloaked Mare growled. “Are you going to blindfold me and make me walk through a chasm as well?” “Hey now!” Velvet crossed her forelegs and smirked at Cloaked Mare. “That's no way to talk to the mare who saved your notebook! Now, what's the relic you're looking for?” “Oh Celestia, it's the Spectrum of Lightning! Now give the—” “Who made it?” “Mage Meadowbrook!” Cloaked Mare was digging her hooves into the floor. “Damn it, I don't have time for this!” “But which one?” Cloaked Mare fell silent. She tried to reach for the notebook again, but Velvet levitated it out of reach and put it at the empty seat beside her. “Wrong. The name ‘Meadowbrook’ was passed down for seven generations from the original Equestrian figure. The one who made the Spectrum was the fourth. Next question: if you don't own this notebook, why are you—” A foreleg slammed into Velvet's neck. She sputtered and coughed. Velvet's chest heaved as she stared into Cloaked Mare's burning magenta eyes. The latter's head covering slipped off, a deep violet mane billowing from it and brushing her blue fur. “Wait…wait!” Velvet gasped out. “I can be…reasonable…” Keeping her left foreleg on Velvet's neck, Once-Cloaked-Mare whipped out a radio from a pocket on her cloak. “Everypony, regroup in the second coach car!” she shouted. “I got what we came here for!” A bolo punch sent Velvet's upper body to her seat. Groaning, she curled and clutched her midsection. Surrounding passengers began to mutter and murmur as Once-Cloaked-Mare stepped forward and pulled a pistol from a holster under her cloak, the fire still burning in her eyes. “Hey!” declared a familiar baritone from the aisle. “Drop the—” A boom echoed across the hall. It was quick; Velvet wasn't even sure she saw the movement. One second, her attacker was facing her. The next, she was aiming down the hall, her pistol breathing out a wisp of smoke. Deep breaths escaped Velvet's mouth. Her ears pressed flat against her head as she sat up, her mind reeling from the concussive blast from the gun barrel. Without wanting them to, her eyes flicked over the body on the floor. It was the guard from the previous day, a pool of deep crimson blossoming onto carpet beneath him as his chest shuddered with its final breath. "Oh crap. Oh crap! Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap! What's happening?!" Velvet whispered to herself. "Anypony else want to join him?!" The gunmare surveyed the cowering passengers with the business end of her weapon. The creaking of the cabin door sliding open drew Velvet’s attention behind. Out emerged the jacketed stallion she had seen before with her assailant, causing Velvet to creep back down and recede further into her seat. Once-Cloaked-Mare turned to face Jacketed Stallion, and Velvet’s eyes flicked back and forth as she watched them hold a very clipped conversation. They most likely were discussing what to do with her, if Jacketed Stallion’s stare was any indication. As the tinnitus in Velvet’s ears began to calm, Velvet’s mind raced through her options. She had to do something—anything! Jump out the window? Probably break her neck. Just give them the notebook? They might kill her anyway. Maybe her skills with electricity? Perhaps she could zap them with a jolt, and escape? But where? In preparation for the latter course of action, her subconscious had already completed the necessary calculations, activating a small crackle through her horn—a spark waiting for a conduit. But could she do it? Could she push through with any of the crazy proposals that her mind offered? She sought for the blue stallion's shadow at the back of her mind, but he was nowhere to be found. As if her limbs had a mind of her own, she slowly took the notebook in her hooves, grasped it like a foal hugging a teddy bear, and trembled in her seat. She'd only known it for a day, but in the absence of anything familiar, her subconscious latched onto the next best thing. Just as Velvet's hearing returned and the worried cries of surrounding passengers, along with somepony shouting for security, faded into existence, Once-Cloaked-Mare and her coltfriend stopped talking and turned their eyes towards Velvet. Out of the corner of her eye, Velvet noticed Jacketed Stallion moving to the side, bringing a revolver up to aim. There was nothing else for it. It was time to act. A blinding flash, followed by a crackling boom, flooded the train. The train car’s windows rattled. Once-Cloaked-Mare’s right hoof had connected with Velvet’s cheekbone in an overhand cross, causing Velvet to rebound in pain. However, like a circuit being completed, that contact had provided the necessary connection for Velvet’s surge of electricity to cascade from her horn and into her aggressor’s body. The mare screamed. The stallion’s revolver sounded off. Velvet yelped and flinched, but a quick turn to her rear revealed that the bullet had missed her and perforated the window. Surprised she wasn’t sporting a new hole, Velvet stood up on her seat. Magenta and violet sparks coursed over Once-Cloaked-Mare's body. Heat and magical energy blackened her fur and clothes. Her body twisted and spasmed as a gurgling sound came from her rictus of pain. “I… I didn’t… Holy shit!” Velvet whispered as her eyes widened. A wisp of smoke wafted off her horn as a squeezing, throbbing ache radiated into her forehead, the shrieks and murmurs of other passengers providing an auditory backdrop to the spectacle. Jacketed Stallion sat up from the floor, having been knocked clear from the energy of the discharge. His eyes were focused on the mare. After the longest few seconds in Velvet’s life so far, the de-cloaked mare’s trembling limbs grew limp. One last pained gasp escaped from her mouth. The magenta sparks faded away as they dissipated into the aether. Velvet's thoughts couldn't coalesce coherently in her mind, let alone her mouth. She didn’t calculate how many amps there were in that bolt. The jacketed stallion shifted his brown eyes to Velvet, a thunderstorm of emotions visible on his face. Mope later! Velvet's mind screamed. The thug was bringing his weapon up again. Velvet wasn’t sure her horn could do much more right now, so she jumped down in a panic, landing with all of her weight across his foreleg and trapping it between the floor and the side of the next seat. A nauseating wet crack was felt more than heard beneath her hooves as she recovered her balance, turning and galloping for the door. The notebook was still clutched to her side, so she tucked it in her mouth and ran down the aisle. Sliding to a stop in front of the rear cabin door, Velvet pulled and tugged on the knob to no avail. She suppressed her shouts as she resorted to banging the door with her shoulder. Who locked the damned door?! At the other end of the coach car, the door suddenly flew open, four ponies rushing in to the aisle with weapons drawn. The jacketed stallion pulled himself up, gesturing to Velvet’s position. He seethed while his good foreleg braced his weapon-wielding foreleg to his torso. One more shove, and the door flew open. Velvet’s body fell to the floor of the next car. Scrambling to her hooves, Velvet galloped down the aisle, her heart thundering in her chest. From behind, she heard what she guessed was Jacketed Stallion’s voice. “Get her!” Velvet slammed the door. Her heart raced despite the weight of her deed bearing down on her conscience. Curling on the floor and stewing in her own guilt would have to wait. There were armed ponies at her tail, and she had absolutely no plan aside from “get the hell away.” "Shit! Why did you do that?! Stupid stupid stupid!" She had only galloped halfway through the third coach car when the door behind her splintered. The sound of muffled gunshots leaked through the wood, followed by a cacophonous chorus of yelling. Velvet put her flank into high gear. She spat out the notebook and held it in her magic, goons bursting through the door behind her. “Give me a rest!” she shouted, looking back at her pursuers. Two of them took positions on the seats, shoving screaming passengers out of the way. Three, including one livid, jacketed stallion, stayed on the aisle. A bullet sailed past Velvet. She yelped and flinched. The ponies chasing her in the aisle shouted for her head. They looked just about ready to bite her tail. Velvet swung the door in front of her open with her magic and slammed it just as the thugs behind her pounced. A thud reverberated through the door, and the combined voices of three ponies groaned in pain. Panting and fighting back a fainting spell, Velvet snatched a fire ax from the wall and jammed it at the base of the door. She stepped back as the door pounded a few times, the ponies behind it shouting incomprehensibly. That should buy her some time…hopefully. The shattering of windows was followed by the screams of passengers, many ducking down and cowering in their seats. Velvet dove to the floor, narrowly missing a hail of bullets… save for a burning sensation at the back of her neck. With her hooves, Velvet brought a piece of her mane into view and grimaced at the punctured, blackened locks. “I'll lay down suppressive fire!” called out a stallion's voice from outside the train. “Flank around and capture her!” Velvet shot her head up for a peek. She caught a glimpse of a pegasus stallion flying beside the train. Another burst of rounds from his assault rifle sent her cradling on the floor with a yelp, dropping the notebook from her mouth. Gritting her teeth, she grasped the notebook with one of her front hooves and crawled towards the door. Sweat trickled from her hooves. The door was only a few yards away. It jostled. Muffled shouting leaked through it. “Damn it! They're at the other side!” Without a second thought, Velvet got up and threw open the door to one of the bathrooms. Maybe she could hide here and wait for the goons in the car to leave. The trail of bullets hitting the floor mere inches away told her she'd been spotted. So much for waiting them out. Velvet slammed the door shut and locked it with her magic. Just after the tumblers clicked into place, a thought flashed in Velvet's mind, causing her to put a hoof onto her face and groan. "Way to go, Velvet! You just trapped yourself here! How are you going to get out now?" Her eyes darted around. Her heart raced. There's gotta be a vent, a window, a mousehole…anything! The light bulb above her flickered, literally and figuratively. The bulb squeaked and sparked as Velvet twisted it out of the socket. Darkness flooded the bathroom, only to make way for a small, brilliant purple glow. Velvet wrung her mind dry scanning for every possible mathematical shortcut. She couldn't screw up, or her one ticket out would blow up in her face. The door banged repeatedly. "Come on, come on, come on!" A cerise infusion of sparks and clouds materialized in the light bulb. The doorknob rattled. Velvet cupped the lightbulb in her hooves and steeled herself. This time, she would be the one dishing out the surprises. That is, if she didn't zap herself in the process. "Here's the pitch…" The door swung open. Light drenched the bathroom. Velvet was greeted by the muzzle of an assault rifle. The mare behind it never got to pull the trigger. Velvet's curveball showered a cloud of electricity, glass, and noxious gases onto the three goons at the door. They dropped to the ground, screaming and coughing. Without a second thought, Velvet leaped out of the bathroom, trampling on a goon's face on the way out as she held onto the notebook with her mouth. The gases stung her eyes as she ran out the door and closed it behind her with her magic. Nopony was on their seats. As Velvet cantered down the dining car and transferred the notebook from her mouth to her telekinesis, the passengers hiding under the tables stared at her. “Yeah, I know what you're thinking,” Velvet said, the shaking in her voice betraying her confident facade. “The afternoon commute sucks, doesn't it?” That was when a bullet grazed her cheek. A small trickle of blood dripped from Velvet's face, before plopping onto the ground. This time, Velvet joined the other passengers in screaming. Her ears folded back. She slid behind one of the empty dining booths, another bullet hitting the seat behind her. “Come out, you bitch!” Sadism dripped from a youthful mare's voice. “I haven't penetrated a mare before!” Velvet peeked out, only to yank her head back into cover when the bright yellow earth pony fired another shot. A stinging pain flooded Velvet's face. After touching her cheek, Velvet saw that a small patch on her hoof was now painted scarlet. "Screw this!" She transferred the notebook to her hoof and popped out. A knife on the table took on a purple glow and sailed toward Velvet's attacker. The gunmare flinched, the blade tumbling past her ears. She took aim again, only to dodge another thrown knife, then a soup spoon. A grin spread across her face as she looked behind at the cutlery carving onto the car's walls. “Did you just try to kill me with a spoon—” A dinner plate shattered on her face. Shouting her lungs dry, Velvet tackled her assailant and slammed her hooves into the gunmare's head. The adrenaline surged through her body and shoved the gunmare's angry protests from her mind. It didn't take long for Velvet to lose count of each swing. She only stopped when a black shape caught the corner of her eye. The pegasus stallion cocked his rifle. Velvet's eyes widened. She retreated under a table, a trail of bullet holes tailing her. As she huddled and fought to slow her breathing, the doors on both sides rattled. The sound of breaking hinges followed. “We've got you cornered!” a familiar voice called out. “Make this easy on yourself!” The hoofsteps shook Velvet's core. There was only one way out. But it'd drain my magic reserves! Somepony pulled on her tail. Velvet looked down at it, a fog of green magic enveloping the locks. Velvet growled. Her horn lit into a swirl of purple magic. She strained and grit her teeth. A bright flash engulfed her. Velvet pressed a hoof on her head, then shook her head to clear out the slight pressing headache and stop her eyes from spinning. The carpet gave her clammy hooves some warmth, but it did nothing to address the underlying cause. "Oh bad... Oh bad, oh bad, oh bad, oh bad!" Velvet's voice was a scream suppressed into a wavering whisper. Didn't want to attract the attention of any thugs that could be nearby. "This is messed up. This is so messed up! Why is this happening to me?" She scoped the car she had just teleported into. The rows of doors and the lack of seats told her she was in one of the sleeping cars. The red oak doors joined the warm yellow of the sun's rays to cast a welcoming atmosphere in the hall. None of this did anything to wipe off the cold sweat on Velvet's shaking legs as she cantered her way down the car, only stopping to catch her breath. It was less than the entire length of the train, but Velvet felt like she had run a marathon—a marathon where the other racers and the ponies at the bleachers were shooting at her with machine guns all because of a notebook. "Shit... Gotta...gotta get out of here." Opening the door to the baggage car, the air-conditioned zephyr swirled around her, followed by a humid, heady heat. End of the line. Velvet locked the door and set the notebook on a nearby suitcase. Squeezing and grunting, she shoved a crate twice her height in front of the door. Her eyes surveyed her surroundings, then the skylight. Had to keep a lookout for that rifle-wielding pegasus. He wasn't there, thank Celestia. In fact, no one else was here, not even the guard from last night. The only sounds were the rattling of the wheels and the synchronized jostling of the cargo. Velvet slumped to a nearby wall, heaving as her strained muscles tasted a sliver of rest. The pain from her cheek wound had dulled, but some Pinot Noir to numb the pain entirely—and take her mind off the entire debacle—would really hit the spot. “Okay, okay," Velvet tried to psyche herself up. "I suppose I could sit here and wait them out...or until the security guards can get things under control.” She mentally slapped herself in the face and began to pace aimlessly around the cargo hold. "Don't be an idiot." Her face wrinkled into a grimace upon remembering how she put herself in this Celestia-damned position in the first place. "Okay, don't be more of an idiot. There's no waiting out the storm. Those guys will find me here eventually, and they're packing enough heat to turn the guards into mincemeat." A red shape crossing Velvet's peripheral vision put the brakes on her pacing. Evy didn't need any words to suggest one last desperate course of action. "If I'm getting out," huffed out Velvet, "I'll have to find my own way out." Her next destination was the large door on the side of the car. A brisk trot later, however, caused her to grimace and to put her hooves to her head. "Damn it! It's locked!" Velvet slumped to the floor once again. She knew her motorcycle inside and out. She'd created a way to communicate to Night Light using nothing but a TV and a mirror. Hell, she'd even managed to create stun grenades from a lightbulb—no small feat, especially since she'd never been in a fight more intense than a verbal argument with some former friends. But locked doors? An enigma for the ages. Velvet could never figure those out—not back in college, not in her parents' old lab, nowhere. After trying and failing lock-picking so many times, she eventually told herself that she would never need to use it. Velvet put her head on the floor and sighed. "So much for being less of an idiot." For several seconds, Velvet lay alone in the baggage car, the vibration of the train's wheels not even registering in her brain. Her mind was beginning to simmer down. If she couldn't escape, at least she could have a few moments to herself before the inevitable occurred and she was kidnapped. Velvet recalled the adrenaline surging through her blood vessels during the chase, shaking her head at the thought. Thrill was always good, hence her close friendship with Evy and the occasional motocross during vacations. But to experience the same feelings in an honest-to-Celestia life-and-death situation? The hell's the matter with you? Velvet snorted. You nearly died several times, and here you are being nostalgic about it! Seeking a distraction from her internal conflict, Velvet turned her attention to the notebook's stained cover. She'd been holding the notebook for so long that she almost forgot her hoof muscles had been tensed around it for several minutes straight. Maybe she should've left it on the floor in Vanhoover. That would've saved her an entire train's worth of trouble. Her mouth let out a pained, almost crazed laugh, then a sigh. “I don't know what kind of shady shit you and your owner must have gone through,” Velvet breathed out. “If I ever get out of this, let's hope you'll more than make up for the lifelong therapy.” This wasn't how she imagined the last leg of her trip to play out, but hey, at least she could safely say her life was no longer stuck in a rut—by a given definition of “safely,” anyway. A brilliant flash of green light burst into the room from Velvet's side, her shadow casting across the car as she turned around. A pair of brown eyes greeted her. “You think you're the only unicorn here who knows how to teleport?” He shot a downwards hammer punch into Velvet's snout.