//------------------------------// // The Flier, the Fashionista, and the Flutterer // Story: Princess Twilight Sparkle's School for Fantastic Foals: The Soul Thief // by kudzuhaiku //------------------------------// A tooth lived an impossible dream. It flew without wings, free of the sometimes dark, crowded prison in which it had existed for the entirety of its life. Somehow, it resisted the siren’s call of gravity, arcing ever-upward—but like all dreams, those nightmarish and pleasant alike, the miraculous flight approached its middle. At the peak of its arc, it tumbled through the air, as if weightless, and then as dreamers who dream of the impossible do, began its descent as reality asserted itself. The glorious dream ended as the tooth clattered against the wooden floor. Pinkie Pie bounced from one hind hoof to the other, almost as if she was doing the hokey-pokey, and she turned herself about. Her arrival had been the source of much surprise among the invaders—Pinkie Pie loved surprises and she lived to surprise others. Though she had been the one who had been quite surprised a while ago when her Pinkie Sense informed her that somepony was trying to snatch a sorcerer. This would not do. Even worse, not long after that, her Pinkie Sense politely announced that Sumac’s nemesis was coming, and that all of Ponyville was in danger. The pink ponk, professional party pony that she was, immediately set out to surprise the surprisers. This hokey-pokey wasn’t very fun and at the moment, two iron-shod hind hooves were headed right for her kisser. How rude! Lunging backwards, as opposed to forwards, as lungers typically did, Pinkie Pie grabbed one extended hind leg, got herself a good grip on the left gaskin with her left front fetlock, and then she did the hokey-pokey and put her right hoof in—right into the stallion’s exposed groin. There was a sound that only night terrors—the nocturnal pegasus ponies of the night—could hear, and apparently dragons too, as Boomer paused mid-fireblast to cover her ear frills. The stallion went limp, but before he hit the floor, Pinkie got ahold of his other leg, and with a mighty heave, she swung him about. Round and round they went, picking up speed, building momentum, and with a light hop, skip, and a bounce, Pinkie Pie bashed another stallion with the one she held. There was a terrific meaty smack, which stood out in a distinct manner against the sound of shattering bone. But Pinkie wasn’t done, she still had momentum and was armed with a stallion who had to be called Sundae, because he had crushed nuts. There were others in the room, and she bore down on them, swinging Sundae round and round in the wildest, most life-threatening hokey-pokey ever. Sadly, Sundae was a party pooper, and after a second bone-shattering impact, he was in no shape to keep partying. In fact, he had very little shape at all and collapsed into a lumpy heap on the floor. Pinkie Sense telegraphed out a warning and Pinkie turned around just in time to see a double-barreled shotgun pointed at her. This was problematic—for the shotgunner. There was an almost blinding flash as the gun went off, dust and smoke filled the room, and Pinkie giggled as she snatched the gun away from the rather alarmed unicorn. Behind her, on the wall, were dozens upon dozens of tiny holes; somehow, every pellet had missed. With a swift, curious movement of her front hooves, Pinkie Pie twisted the still-smoking shotgun, the wood splintered, shattered, and the metal barrels bent from the force of her earth pony strength. It was as if she was making balloon animals, only this wasn’t a balloon, it was a shotgun that had just been fired at her, and her assailant had somehow missed at point blank range. “Luck is not a dump-stat,” she said to her attacker while she tied his shotgun into a rather plain square knot. “Die!” The shout came from her left and she turned just in time. “No, I was born this colour! Isn’t it amazing!” Pinkie disarmed another attacker, pulling away his shotgun as well before he had a chance to reload. With a few swift movements, she wrapped it around his neck and then cinched it tight. When he fell to the floor, gasping, she leaned in to say, “If you hold very still, you’ll get just enough air to keep living. But if you struggle… don’t struggle.” With a yank, she adjusted the invader’s brand new bowtie to ensure a snug fit. “Pinkie! Get Sumac to Twilight!” Trixie’s voice was raspy from the smoke and all of the screaming. “Go! Hurry!” “Okie dokie lokie,” she replied, still bouncing from one hind hoof to the other, a bit of bright, hopeful pink that stood out in sharp contrast against the dark, murky smoke that filled the house. “Come on, Sumac! Your nemesis, Catrina, she’s coming! We need to get you out of here in a hurry! We hafta oogie-boogie!” Snatching up the sputtering sorcerer, Pinkie Pie departed with all haste. The streets were in chaos, with the totally-not rat catchers now fighting the alerted, angry ponies of Ponyville. Pinkie Pie—purveyor of pony-parties—pronked, mindful of Sumac on her back, and she wove in and out between the chaotic fracases all about. Boomer was bounding along behind her, guarding the rear, and Pinkie’s Pinkie Sense was screaming that the mother of all doozies was about to happen. “Does this qualify as a donnybrook, I wonder?” she asked of herself. Right before her very eyes, invaders appeared, popping out of the aether like surprise party guests. Scarifying invaders too; out of all the diamond dogs that just poofed into sudden existence, not all of them were alive. Some of them were dirty, wormy, and just a teensy-weensy bit rotten. Decaying dogs? As it turned out, diamonds weren’t forever, as Rarity was so fond of saying. “Ha! Ha! Ha!” Pinkie Pie giggled as the first of the supernatural fear began it’s assault upon her mind. Odd things lurked in the corners of her vision, elongated, distorted shadows that reached out for her if she wasn’t looking directly at it. A rip in reality opened up, a rift that glowed with a pale, unwholesome light. The sight of the undead, skeletal cat-figure caused Pinkie’s mane to stand on end. No introduction was needed to know that Sumac’s most dreaded, most terrible, most awful arch-nemesis had just entered from stage left. Or was it stage right? She could never remember these things. Catrina stood larger than life, holding a scimitar wreathed in witchfire flames in one paw and a wand in the other. “Oops!” Pinkie said as she came to a sudden emergency halt—she had been running right in Catrina’s direction, after all. “Hang on, ugly cat lady, I’d love to party with you, but first, I need to ditch my sorcerer. He’s a confirmed party pooper and not only that, it’s way past his bedtime!” Whipping her body around, Pinkie flung Sumac from her back, grabbed him, swung him around, and then hurled him skyward with all of her earth pony might, which was considerable. Shrieking, Sumac went careening upwards, tumbling end over end, and Pinkie Pie prepared to keep Catrina occupied until help arrived—an unknown outcome for sure. “See ya, Sumac! Good luck!” Coughing, Rainbow Dash clutched Sumac, unsure of how secure he was in her embrace. He was dusty, gritty, surrounded by an irritating cloud of something unpleasant. She redoubled her grip around his middle, and in doing so, pulled him so close, so tight to her that she could feel his troubled heart smashing against his frail, thin ribs. Below, Pinkie Pie was in some serious trouble, and while Rainbow wanted to stay and help her, she understood that Sumac had to be brought to Twilight—no matter the cost. Pinkie Pie was buying time so Rainbow Dash could escape. Sucking in a deep breath, the lithe pegasus prepared for takeoff, flapped her wings, and then, much to her consternation and shock, not much happened. No rainboom to light the night. She struggled to even get up to speed and the annoying, cloying dust left a nasty tickle in her lungs. Her wings clawed frantically at the air, but it was like she could get no grip on the sky. “No!” the speedster pegasus shouted while her wings made exaggerated, jerky motions. “No! I shoulda been at the castle already! What’s going on! Ugh! Come on! Work, wings! The Element of Loyalty must deliver!” Not only was she slow, but she was going down. No matter how much she tried, no matter how much she struggled, she couldn’t stay in the sky. Rainbow Dash knew that she was about to Rainbow Crash right into the dirt. Already, she was picking up speed—not forward speed, the good kind—but downward momentum that promised a horrific crash into the solid, unyielding earth. Rolling over, she clutched Sumac even tighter to her, determined to protect him right to whatever bitter end awaited them. She began her plunge towards the ground and since her wings were useless, she wrapped them around Sumac, a vain attempt to shield him as much as possible. She would crash into the ground back-first, using her own body to take the worst of the impact, and she hoped that somehow, Sumac would be okay. The idea of failing was somehow even worse than crashing; she was the weak link in the chain and Sumac might very well be taken because she had failed him—she had failed to be awesome. Gritting her teeth, she hugged the foal as tight as she could, hoping to comfort him during these last moments, and knowing that this might very well mean goodbye. As the last of Rainbow Dash’s buoyancy expired, gravity at long last claimed the defiant pegasus. With an annoyed sneer, Rarity surveyed the developing fight, but her efforts were interrupted by the brassy honk of a frantic pygmy tree dragon. Looking down, she saw Boomer pointing up, while pantomiming a frantic need to hurry. Tilting her head back, Rarity squinted a bit into the darkness above, and then saw something that left a chill in her blood. “Oh,” she gasped, “that won’t do at all. Hold fast, all of you! I have to perform a rescue!” Even as she spoke, Rarity was pulling out every bit of ribbon, every bit of silken cord, every string, every bit of twine, anything and everything in her shop that she could summon. She didn’t have long to work at all, Rainbow was in big, big trouble and coming down fast. Boomer now stood near Rarity’s hooves, ready to scorch anything that drew too close. Weaving a net was a time consuming endeavour, but that was only if one wove it properly, one row at a time. Rarity, lacking that necessary time, cheated; which is to say, she used her telekinesis to weave every row all at once. Thousands of tiny scraps all writhed and wiggled like very fashionable worms, slithering into place, and forming a tight, well-tensioned mesh. When one of her guardians got into a bit too much trouble—Thunderlane had certainly bitten off more than he could chew with not one, but three assailants—Rarity was forced to divert some of her attention towards helping him. A steaming-hot iron flew through the air, almost whistling, and pressed itself against the hindquarters of the brutish diamond dog bearing down upon Thunderlane with an immense, nail-studded club. The howl could be heard all over Ponyville. Rarity’s woven net was now ready, glowing, and drawn tight. A second later, a rainbow-maned pegasus plopped in, along with a young sorcerer, but Rarity could not celebrate her accomplishment—no, she had wrinkled invaders that needed ironing. Several more irons flew out of Carousel Boutique and trailing wisps of steam, they sought out the most unfashionable undesirables. The howls of pain did not go unnoticed though and looking down the lane, Rarity could see reinforcements coming—no doubt with the intentions of snatching Sumac. This would not do. Eyes darting about, with several steaming-irons orbiting around her head, the fighting fashionista tried to think about what to do next. She was already thinking about so many things at once, fighting, saving Rainbow, Sumac, and Thunderlane; and of course, there was Carousel Boutique to think about—she didn’t want her beloved business burnt to the ground. “Charge! Please… if you don’t mind. If it’s not too much trouble. Oh, please, please save my friends, Twilight is counting on me!” That demure voice could only come from one pony and Rarity turned around just in time to see a screeching, yowling, roaring horde of fuzzy fury bearing down upon her. Bears, birds, snakes, beavers, bees, wasps, squirrels, chipmunks, badgers, cougars, a veritable militia of Fluttershy’s friends had arrived. Whipping her head around in the most dramatic way she could muster, she graced her assailants with her most devastating smirk. “Oh darlings,” she called out, her tone mocking, “fur is murder!” It was awful, putting her poor animal friends in danger, but they were wild animals—mostly—and for them, danger was the natural state of things. Still, it was awful, just awful, and Fluttershy could not help but feel a bit guilty. Tonight, some of them would die, there could be no doubt of that, and she would be the one to bury them. “Harry! Look out!” Too late, the club smashed into poor Harry and Fluttershy shuddered, unable to witness the suffering of another. But Harry… Harry was a bear and the wooden club snapped into three pieces on impact. A terrible, terrific roar of fury came from Harry, and though a bit slow, Harry whirled around to deal with his attacker. One slap sent the diamond dog reeling backwards, leaving him vulnerable, his vitals exposed, and a second swipe opened up the big dog’s throat. Roaring with ursine umbrage, the big bear lumbered into the mob of diamond dogs, an unstoppable juggernaut of nature’s judgment. In the distance, a massive pillar of fire rose upwards, illuminating the night sky. Less than an eyeblink later, the shockwave hit, and just after that, the sound. The all-consuming roar left Fluttershy deaf; she had no idea what had happened, what was going on, or what had just exploded. Beneath her, the ground trembled and ripples could be seen moving through the soil in very much the same way as they traveled through a pond. Windows shattered, buildings shuddered, and a great many structures just collapsed from the force of the blast. With Fluttershy’s ears ringing the way they were, she could not hear the furious voice in the distance shouting, “HOLD STILL YOU STUPID PINK FOOL AND LET ME KILL YOU! I’LL TURN YOUR ANNOYING PINK HIDE INTO A BOOK BINDING! I’LL WEAR YOUR GUTS FOR GARTERS!” Nor could she hear the mocking gigglesnorty laughter in response. It was probably for the best, as Fluttershy was one prone to worry.