//------------------------------// // Pompeii - Bastille // Story: Extremely Loud, Intensely Bright, Drastically Tense, Exceedingly Tight // by h4ns //------------------------------// Chapter 82: Pompeii - Bastille Bryce looked over to find Ponzi Scheme, who was himself turned to the front door of the bar. After a second the pale grey stallion looked back to Bryce. “Was that…?” He placed a hoof under his chin as his face turned into one of deep concentration. “I could be wrong, but I could have sworn that was Legate Rheda.” The stallion looked back to Bryce. “Is that what she told you?” Bryce thought about it, but he had to tell the truth: “It never came up.” But as he thought about it, he thought he should know the name. Ponzi looked to the door once more. “If it’s not her then it at least has to be a relation; a sister or daughter perhaps. But we only met once when I was a colt; and that must have been maybe 20 or 30 years ago… But she looks just like the legate who…” He shook the thought away and turned back to the reason he had come to the fringes of Ponyville. “Well, it’s not important.” He turned back to Bryce. “My nephew told me you would be in town, but I must say it took me a considerable amount of time—and a few bits to refresh a few memories,” he said under his breath, “to find you.” He motioned to the seat across from Bryce. “May I?” Bryce nodded, and the stallion took a seat. “So, may I ask why you are here?” Bryce wanted to remain silent—if only for a time—but he saw no point in keeping his peace. “I just needed to get away for a while.” “Well, from what I’ve heard at the apple farm I can understand your position, but Bait also explained to me you were to help a family cook Thanksgiving dinner.” “It wasn’t to cook for them, it was to help them learn to cook for themselves. But… Well, if you think what happened at the farm was bad…” He trailed off from there. “…what happened at the Nuts’ was worse?” Ponzi asked, releasing another nasal sigh from the human. “I see… From the way you say it I take it you have done something you regret.” “I… I don’t know…” Ponzi cocked an eyebrow at this response. “Do you mean you ‘don’t know’ if you ‘regret what you’ve done’ or you ‘cannot believe what you have done’?” “I… I do regret what I did, but… It’s like you said; I can’t believe I did it.” He looked to the bottle still held in his hand. As he went to take the last few swigs, he felt something hold it back. It was Ponzi, who looked at Bryce with a stern stare. “Not yet; not until I’ve had a chance to say a few words.” Bryce wanted to protest. He had the ability to not only make the stallion release the bottle, but also stand up, do the hokey-pokey, and in time make him leave the way he had come. But he did not want to do so. As much as he wanted the drink, if only to have the possibility of making this bad day elapse faster, something outside himself made him feel he needed to hear the stallion out. A few seconds later Bryce relinquished his hold on the bottle to Ponzi, who in turn slid the bottle and its bitter-sweet contents out of the human’s physical reach. “Now, I do not know fully what has happened, but from what my nephew has told me it does not bode well. “What I can tell you is this,” the stallion said in a grave tone. “You may not be out of the woods quite yet.” “Tell me something I don’t know.” “I can understand what you mean, but I mean something different. Somepony may try to do you in. If not you personally, then somepony you hold dear.” “Again, tell me something I don’t know. There’s a whole town who wants me gone or worse.” He looked down at the table. “And I can’t begin to imagine what they’ll do to my friends. Well, the few I may or may not have left.” “And again, I can understand what you mean, Mr Smales, but I mean something different.” He waited a few beats to allow the human time to try and refute him once more. When he did not, Ponzi said, “Bryce, what can you tell me of the stallion called…” He tapped his hoof on the table to recall the name, and said, “Thunderlane?” “Thunderlane?” Bryce repeated. “Yes, him. According to my nephew your relationship has taken a turn; a turn for the better?” “Yes, but what does that have to do with anything?” “It matters because I have also heard a few weeks before Nightmare Night you two were the farthest any two individuals could be from friends. In fact, I heard his treatment of you then was at equal to—if not worse than—how Ponyville treats you now.” He said nothing; wanting to wait to see Bryce’s response. Said response was a near repeat of this last few answers. “What does that have to do with anything?” “I don’t know if you are aware of this, but it is of anypony’s best interest to be skeptical of another’s sudden change of opinion.” He waited a beat before he added, “When it’s towards a certain group, or an individual.” He hung a hoof in Bryce’s direction. This time around Bryce provided a legitimate response. “You’re sounding just like everyone else now,” he said in a raised tone. “Whatever you’ve heard we’ve made up.” “Yes… But in terms of the how…?” He started to ask, “Does it matter?” He wanted to but ended up saying only the first half. He sighed and placed his forehead into his hand. “You know, at this point I guess there’s no point in keeping it a secret. Bryce began by retelling his and Thunderlane’s first encounter: his return to the apple farm after Bait burned down the barn, to which Ponzi Scheme provided an apology. From there he retold the events leading to Dinky’s birthday party at the Doo household, and his part in taking away the slate-grey stallion’s ability to fly, for a time. He had to pause a short time after this; in small part to him forcing this inability upon Thunderlane, but also the thought of Dinky. Ponzi had offered the bottle, but Bryce rejected it, for now. When he felt ready to speak again, he recalled the incident Ponzi had some part in: the theft of Bryce’s grandfather’s watch. He sped through this part but included the bit in the alley with Mina. From there he told Ponzi about the events at the construction yard, when he had told the relevant pegasus how he could return his flight, as impossible as this seemed at the time. This then led to his worst dealings with Thunderlane. From what Bryce could gather it was meant to be a simple apology—one Bryce had not taken the time to hear out. And because of his inability to take said time it ended with Thunderlane and his brother trapping themselves in Froggy Bottom Bogg. “I wish I could have made them forget about the whole thing, but I couldn’t; not after everything that happened next,” he stated with remorse. Bryce related what had happened within the bog. He started from the point he had to jump into the murky water and saved Rumble, to the escape into the caves from the four-headed hydra, to the use of his abilities to more or less blind a herd of fire-breathing salamanders. The grey stallion cringed as Bryce related bathing in the molten salamander blood to avoid the flames, but from what Bryce said next it proved a prudent move. “What happened at the end,” Bryce said as he continued the story, “is something which surprises me still. When we came to the end of the caves, we found the mouth blocked by this big, red rock. Except it wasn’t a rock—it was the mother of the salamanders, I think. That or the queen. It doesn’t matter.” Ponzi nodded in agreement, motioning for the human to continue. “Anyway, when Thunderlane ran into her she woke up. She blew fire on him, but because of the salamander blood it did nothing to hurt him. She wanted to kill Rumble—to even out for me killing her…‘nymph’. I think she called them—but Thunderlane took the blame. And she would have squeezed him to death, but then the salamander—the one which, as far as I know, still sticks to Thunderlane to this day—stood up for him, and made it known we were attacked, and that I was only defending Thunderlane. “And from there that’s all there is to tell. Ever since then we’ve gotten along fine.” Ponzi rested his head on his raised hooves. “You said if they had not run into the bog you ‘wish you could have made them forget the whole ordeal’. What do you mean?” “Well, about that. I can alter memories to make one believe in a proposed reality, if not make them forget something entirely.” “Is that so?” Bryce nodded. “It’s something like this.” He picked up the two glass Caballo Salvaje stoppers—the one without legs and the other from the fresh bottle. He placed the former—legs included—on his right and the intact stopper on his left. “Okay, you see which cap is on either side of me, right?” Ponzi took a few seconds to observe them both before he returned a nod. “Alright then,” Bryce said before he placed a hand over either stopper, removing them from view. They locked eyes for a minute before Bryce asked, “Now, which hand is the cap without legs under?” It took only a second for Ponzi to slide his hoof over to the human’s left hand. When Bryce removed his hand, the stallion did a double take, for the small amber pony under said hand still had both of its legs. “I… That’s not…” Bryce removed his other hand, revealing the stopper which had broken into three parts. Ponzi’s jaw dropped. “How did it you move it without me noticing…? I would have heard-” “If I slid it across the table? Yes, you would have. But I didn’t.” Ponzi ran a hoof under his chin. “Then… How…?” “Well,” Bryce interrupted again, “you wouldn’t remember, because not only did I make you think the caps had changed places, I also made you forget why I did this.” For a split second, Ponzi did not understand, but then all at once it came back like a bolt of lightning. “You…did… How could I not…” He thought about it more then said, “Celestia, it’s like magic… But if you can make me forget where you had the stoppers and why you asked, why can you not make Thunderlane and his brother forget about the ordeal in the bog?” “Simple; it can’t be explained.” Ponzi returned a deadpan expression. “Actually, I believe you have yet to explain.” “No, I mean there’s no way it can be explained why any of us were in the bog in the first place. And even if I could have come up with a reasonable explanation for us being there how could I explain everything that happened there?” The stallion thought on the matter, but after a moment of deliberation he had to agree: without a reasonable doubt, the three of them had no other excuse to be in Froggy Bottom Bogg, and no way to explain away all which had gone on in said location. “I have to agree, I suppose. But that is enough explanation for now. I want to bring the conversation back to my original warning: you are probably not out of danger.” He raised a hoof to stop the human. “Before you can refute me, I want you to hear out an old stallion.” He cleared his throat, and said, “It has been my experience that you should be wary of ‘sudden’ friends—and I know this from experience. “You see, I have had a few schemes of mine go bad, due in large part to somepony who suddenly became a close chum of mine. A little agreement here, a few pats on the back there, and then at the end I found I need to play my way out of an arrest or jilted sweetheart or… A threat against not just my life but my whole crew at the time.” The grey stallion went quiet for a few beats before he continued. “In fact… It was one of these last situations which cost the life of somepony quite dear to me. And since then I’ve learned to watch out for these types of ponies. For the most part I’ve been lucky—barring a few monetary losses and minor injuries—but it has never been easy. “And, Bryce Smales, as it often happens, everypony’s luck, in time, runs out. And you had a big chunk bitten off after a pardon of this magnitude, if you have any left at all.” The stallion placed his forelegs on the table and rested his head on his crossed hooves. “So, rather you heed an aged stallion’s words or not is up to you, but they are words you needed to hear.” With this said, he slid the bottle back to the human. Bryce waited a beat before he grabbed said bottle. He looked at what remained at the bottom, thinking on what to say. He opened his mouth once, twice, but shut it both times. He wanted to refute this claim; but as it happened, he could not. His feelings on the stallion’s speech summed up his feelings: “I want to tell you you’re wrong, but I haven’t seen Thunderlane since a couple days before Nightmare Night.” He waited a second before he added: “Well, that’s what I remember; Bait’s told me Thunderlane and I talked on that night, but…” He shrugged as he swirled the bottle by its neck. “I don’t even remember putting on my costume that night.” The stallion tapped a hoof on the table a few times. “Well—be that as it may—my nephew seems to have told you only half the story.” “What do you mean by ‘half’?” Bryce asked as he stopped the bottle mid-swirl. “According to my nephew, he found a certain pegasus we all know trying to mess with a cup of punch. And, according to my nephew, it happened no more than half an hour before your…less than…pleasant…” He struggled for a proper word before he decided to move on to the matter at hand. “Regardless, Bait seems to have come upon this certain pegasus trying to contaminate said punch. At the time he did not know what this pegasus meant to add—and he was certain he talked him out of doing so—but from what happened not long after…” The stallion held a limp hoof in Bryce’s direction. Bryce had to think on this. “Well, it seems…wrong.” “Yes,” Ponzi said in agreement, “what Thunderlane has done was wrong. I don’t care what happened between you two, what he did put many lives at risk.” “Yeah… No…” “‘No’, you think he did nothing wrong, or ‘no’, you do not believe me.” “I… I believe you—Bait saw Thunderlane. But to think Thunderlane could…” “I don’t know what could drive anypony to do something so heinous to another, but he may well have done so to you. I just want to make sure of one thing: you do not retaliate. If you do anything to bring him harm you will only play into this game; he has you doing what he wants.” Bryce tapped his balled-up fist on the table. “I… I won’t… I wouldn’t…” He did not know why but something felt off about the situation. It felt as if he could understand the stallion—and his logic made near if not perfect sense—but it felt wrong. “Good…” Ponzi said after a few raps of Bryce’s fist on the table. “I was hoping for that answer. But I need better than that.” He clopped a hoof on the table, grabbing the human’s attention. “I need you to promise me you will do nothing to bring harm—rather on purpose or by proxy—to the pegasus named Thunderlane.” Bryce stared the grey stallion in his yellow-rimmed eyes—eyes the same color as a freshly-minted bit. Looking him in the eyes made Bryce doubt the situation more than before; he felt he had no reason to go after Thunderlane. Not for the events on Nightmare Night, at least. Regardless, Bryce found himself nodding. “No, I need you to hear you say so—a nod means nothing!” Bryce stammered out. “I… I promise… I won’t bother Thunderlane if he doesn’t bother me.” “Good,” Ponzi said a few seconds before he broke the stare. “Now, is there anything else you wish to discuss?” Bryce needed only a second to consider the question before he shook his head. “Okay then. Do you have a tab you need to pay?” Bryce shook his head again. “No, the mare from before—the one you called ‘Legate Rheda’—took care of it.” “Well, I shall still be sure to leave a tip. When you are ready to leave allow me to escort you back to the farm.” Bryce swirled the bottle a few more times before he tilted it back and downed the contents. He again thought of how awful the liqueur could have been without the perfect balance of sweetness. After he slammed the bottle down on the table he said, “Let’s go then.” They both left, unaware of how long the road towards the apple farm would be for them. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Cocoa Beurre laid in bed, trying in vain for more than two hours to try and go to sleep, if only to bring an end to this rotten day. After the tiring events of the evening one may think her body wanted nothing more but to rest, but with her mind abuzz it made the possibility of sleep impossible. For the umpteenth time now the mare rolled over, trying another position to try and bring her comfort she could not find. She had tried sleeping on all sides, sometimes with a pillow between her hindlegs, sometimes holding said pillow close, and a few times with no pillow at all. Regardless of the position the result was the same: sleep would not come. She stayed in this new position for only a few seconds before she sighed in defeat, deciding to accept she could not win tonight. She flipped onto her back, choosing to stare at the ceiling until either sleep took her or morning came, whichever came first. It hurt her to be this way; not only to be unable to allow her mind to go to a world of its own creation but to be separate from her husband and fillies, be it a holiday or an ordinary day. Not only this, but to know she was being selfish to Almond and Pecan, and not caring that she was. All this together burdened her mind, but she could see no grand solution to any of these problems—her mind was made up. The twins be damned, she wasn’t going to allow them to be put in another situation like this, not one where they wailed from pain so unknown and beyond understanding it could make a stone shed tears. Whatever reward this cooking nonsense may bring to them, the risk was too great for the mother mare to handle. They either made peace with this decision or live life miserable. If they were safe, then everything was okay by her. As she rolled this thought over countless times—all the while with a sour look on her face—there came a pounding of hooves down the hallway. This pounding was one she had come to know from eight years motherhood: either something great had happened, somepony wanted something, or something was not good. She knew it could not be something great: not after a night like tonight, and most certainly with Hearth’s Warming being a month away. She hoped it was not Pecan begging, if not demanding she and her sister be allowed to cook; she would not have it, no matter how the filly cried. If it were the last of these, she had to wonder what, if anything could make the night worse than before. She rolled over towards the door in time to hear the pony on the other side reach the door. If it were not for the heavy dresser standing over the door this pony would have entered. After trying the doorknob in vain a few times, the pony on the other end took to banging their hoof on the wood. “Cocoa, open up!” It was Kernal, who from the sound of him made her third guess correct: something was not good, and possibly worse than ever. In a panic, Cocoa leapt out of bed, only to belly flop onto the floor: her thrashing over the past couple of hours had caused the covers to wrap themselves around one of her hindlegs. She looked back to see this and saw the other end of the blanket stuck to a bedpost; she had trapped herself in a makeshift snare. As the seconds passed the pounding on the door intensified. “Cocoa, are you alright in there?!” Cocoa struggled to free herself from the sheets—and if she were to calm herself it may have found the binding on her leg to be a simple knot—but the situation seemed dire. Without hesitation her horn lit up in a chocolate-brown glow, with the target being an edge of the sheet just below her wrapped hindleg. In an instant a loud rip filled the room, and she became free. The mare scrambled to her hooves, using her magic to hurl the dresser away from the door at the same time. When she opened the door—after multiple failed attempts to turn the knob with her hooves—she found the chestnut stallion standing there, his own panic clear. Before she could ask ‘what was wrong?’, the stallion blurted out, “Cocoa, the kitchen is on fire! After I put the girls to bed, I went to sleep on the couch, but we didn’t know about the oven!” Cocoa drew in a short, pained breath. She did not think of the fire long. “Kernal, les filles!” She tried to rush further down the hall—towards the twins’ bedroom and away from the front door—but Kernal stopped her in time. “They’re okay; I’ve already got them outside. I only came back to get you.” He motioned for the mare to come on, who did so while failing to notice the stallion’s sudden loss of worry. What she did notice, as she entered the living room, was that a pair of certain fillies stood between said room and the kitchen. When she stood a few steps away she came to a stop, mouth agape. “Girls… Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas avec vous deux?!” They both looked at her as if they didn’t understand what their mother had said—this being only half true for Pecan. “There is a fire!” She blurted out after a few beats. “What are you still-” She turned back to her husband. “Vous bâtard trompeur You said you-!”- Before he could utter a word the mare berated him for a few seconds, stopping herself only when she remembered they were all in danger. “I will deal with you later! For now, we need to leave!” She picked the fillies up in her magic and made for the door. “Wait, Mom!” Pecan called. “Mama, please!” Almond called. Before Cocoa could reach the door Kernal rushed ahead and stood between her and the door. “Cocoa, if you will allow us a moment, we-” The mare shot the stallion a deep stare. “What is zee matter with vous?! You see we are about to burn alive, non?!” “Well…” Kernal began, trying to regain a little composure. “Can… Can you…?” She waved a hoof behind her towards the kitchen. “You see the fire, non?” “Well…” He pointed to the same place behind her, if only to make her understand. The mare took the bait. When she looked back, she could swear she saw the air shimmer from the heat of roaring flames in the kitchen entryway. But as the seconds passed by, she realised her mind had only seen it this way. The air was clean; there was not the slightest smell of smoke, and the only light came from the ceiling lights. And as her panic lifted, she sniffed the air, taking in as much air her lungs could allow once, then twice, then a third, slower inhale. The house did not have the foul, lung-burning odor of smoke at all. It was the opposite: the house smelled as if somepony had cooked a good meal. And this made the mare change from worrying for her and her family’s lives to wondering what her family had done behind her back this time. She looked back to Kernal, who now stood with a strained grin across his face, one which served to make her narrow her eyes further. “What. Did. You. Do?” She asked in a low voice. Kernal rubbed the back of his neck, trying to look anywhere but in her direction. He knew when he did this it had the possibility of breaking everything he and Cocoa had made together forever, but worth it if only to make everything go well for Almond and Cocoa. Damn him if she must, the girls were more important. “Cocoa I’m sorry for tricking you, but I knew of no other way,” he began. Whatever he had planned to say next prove worthless as the mare blew him off and trotted towards the kitchen entryway, making sure to place the fillies down with care before she did so. The smell of a good, homecooked meal became stronger with each step, and when she reached the kitchen, she found the reason why: somepony had been cooking inside her house; the mess these certain someponies had left made it plain. She looked back to Kernal and the twins—with the latter two standing behind the stallion to try and hide themselves. “What is this?” She asked, not needing to know what lay before her. “It’s…Thanksgiving dinner…” He answered, still holding a strained grin. “We finished…” He stated, but added, “Well, the girls did most of the work; I handled the hot parts.” Cocoa’s head darted back-and-forth between her husband and the kitchen. She did not know what to make of the stallion, much less what, if anything she wanted to do. Her husband had gone against her and had roped the girls into his scheme. They had made her believe not only was the house on fire but that her fillies were safe outside. To Tartarus with how good the food smelt, she would not have it. In time, she settled her gaze back on Kernal, showing the stallion a dark, sour look. She opened her mouth to speak—ready to yell at him with a shout with enough unrelenting force to blow him and any small object into the living room wall, but Kernal managed to stop her with a simple utterance familiar to anyone, “I’m sorry.” The mare looked at him dumbfounded. The breath in her lungs left her open mouth. Kernal continued, “I know this was one of the most awful things anypony could have ever done. For now, I don’t regret it, but I knew of no other way to make you come out.” He stepped forward until he was within a foreleg’s length of her. He pointed past the kitchen and into the dining room. Cocoa followed the outstretched hoof but was unsure of how to take it. She made to speak once more but Kernal again jumped in, “Please. You can do with me as you see fit afterwards, but for the girls’ sake allow them this.” The mare hesitated for a few beats, unsure if she could take the results of what she knew lay ahead. It would of course be Thanksgiving dinner; a dinner she had not contributed to make. She had not been able to prepare herself for what she saw, nor would she have been able to do so. As she walked into the dining room, she found the table set for four, with the fine china plates, cloth napkins and fine silver candle holders in place, with the last holding the rooms only source of light. Also on the table—around the candles and within the encircled dinner plates—were six cooking dishes. There should have been seven, she scolded herself for thinking. The dish closest to her contained a heap of creamy almond garlic mashed potatoes, while next to it stood a gravy boat filled with gravy which flowed like water. The dish farthest from her held a green bean casserole, topped with crunchy fried onions and toasted almonds. These two dishes were no doubt Almond’s work, she knew. Between these two side items, sitting on either side of the candle stick holders was a pie, one an orange pumpkin pie topped with toasted pecans and the other a gooey pecan pie. Both pies had been sliced into near perfect sections of eight, with each section topped with a modest dab of whipped cream. At the center of the table, and between the two candles sat the main dish of the night: the seitan loaf. The loaf itself looked like a large, circular loaf of bread with the top cut in a lattice pattern. Though it looked like bread it was much thicker and made sure the table provided everypony with the necessary protein. This last part was something Cocoa had not been expecting. This had been planned for her to make, but in her absence somepony had done it for her instead. She knew from before Kernal had done the actual cooking part, but she also knew he could never pull something like this off. As clumsy and inexperienced she was in the kitchen he was, by far, one of the worst cooks she had ever known, and she was somepony who had difficulty with scrambled eggs. This then left only one possible culprit. Or, to be specific, two separate yet similar ones. Cocoa turned back slowly, not sure how to take this revelation. She had not expected the meal to have been this well prepared, this well put together, done where she wanted to feast until her stomach bulged out, no matter who saw. The mother mare’s face dissolved into a frown. She saw how worried, how scared her daughters looked, and she knew this had nothing to do with Bryce. She had no choice but to agree with Kernal’s former accusation: she had been selfish, selfish to try and forbid them to make something like what had been set on the table. Their father may have heated it up but everything else was the work of Almond and Pecan. A long, thin tear slip down her left cheek. “Qu'est-ce que j'ai fait?” She asked herself. “Mom?” Pecan asked as Almond asked, “Mama?” The mare stepped forward, leaving the remaining three ponies too surprised to react. When she reached the fillies she wrapped them in a big hug as she repeated, “Pouvez-vous vous pardonner maman?” Kernal waited until a after a few renditions of this question before he said, “Cocoa…?” With her other foreleg she pulled the chestnut stallion’s head in close. They remained this way for a while, no one wanting to be the one to ruin the moment. When Cocoa felt she had done enough she loosened her grip and backed away enough to look them each in the eye. She sucked in her lower lip, and with tears in her eyes did maybe the hardest thing she did that night. “Kernal… Amandine… Pécan… I am… I am… sorry…” From there she broke down. She sat back on her rump and turned her head to the ground with her eyes shut tight; she could not bear to see them after everything she had done. It was not long after she felt a small mass grab ahold of her left foreleg, then another similar mass grab ahold her right one. She did not feel the need to open her eyes until she felt a larger mass wrap itself around her neck. What she saw continued to amaze her. All three ponies had felt the need to hold her as she had held them a moment before. She could not help but feel unworthy their forgiveness; how could anypony forgive somepony which such a hot nature? When the three Nut ponies released her, they did as she had before and looked her in the eye. She could tell they all felt concern for her, though she did not see why; she had not been hurt, not physically. Instead, the only pony to have received an injury held the same look of concern for the mother mare as the other two Nut ponies. And to know they felt this way for her—despite how she had yelled at them, had forbade them to do what lay behind her, had been jealous of not only Bryce but her twins as well—tore her heart out. She turned her head down, unsure of how to feel. She wanted to retreat into her bedroom again, now more than ever. She may well have, if Kernal not asked her in the nick of time, “Cocoa, will you please sit down to dinner with us?” The mare tensed, pulled between running, as her mind wanted, or sitting down and eating, as her body demanded. She had to speak slow, to keep herself from slipping into her foalhood Prench. “I…do not…” She began, causing the fillies’ concern to turn to sadness. But she was not finished; she was famished. “I…do not…want to…intrude…on this…happy…occasion… I will…take a plate…into…the kitchen…” Had Almond not felt the need to intervene, the cream-colored mare would have done just this. “You can’t do that! We made this for the whole family!” She shouted. “And that includes you!” Pecan added, pointing an accusatory hoof at the mare. Cocoa had to do a double take. She thought it was Pecan who had spoken first, but then the filly she took to be ‘Almond’ talked to her in the same way. And it didn’t help when they both began to speak in turn. “Even if you didn’t help, we don’t want you to eat alone.” “Because we made it just for you.” “We don’t want you to feel bad.” “We just want to be together for Thanksgiving.” “And if we don’t have you here then we might as well throw it away.” “Yeah,” Pecan said. Then her eyes opened wide, only then understanding what Almond had said. She looked to her sister with a skeptical glance. After a beat the usually timid filly's face sank into a begging stare. “Will you please sit down with us?” Cocoa felt her voice shrivel in her throat. Again the ‘no’ the girls had been expecting refused to surface; as if the word itself had vanished, and with it it's power. How she so wanted to leave now, and if the events of the evening had not left her famished, she could have brought herself to do so. The loud, gut-wrenching growl of her stomach swayed the mare. With one growl the tension from before left, causing each pony to try in vain to suppress a giggle. Cocoa placed a hoof over her mouth. “I’m sorry… It has been a while…” Kernal had to bite on the inside of his cheek to keep his composure. “It’s alright…” He let out a snort. “After all, who could look at this,” he said with a wave of his hoof, “and not have their stomach give its two bits?” Cocoa had to agree; her stomach had taken hold of her senses. The more she looked at it the more she wanted to devour everything like a pig at the trough. If Kernal had not said something she may well have done so. “So, shall we?” He asked, his face once more showing a look of diminished hope. Cocoa looked at the food, then to Kernal, and last to the twins, who though sure her mother would say ‘yes’, still had their doubts. In fact, she had to do a double take on them yet again—she could not tell which twin was which, as she had been able to for months now. The mare relented as her mouth crawled upwards into a small smile. She gave a nod. And with this both fillies leapt for joy, each letting out breaths they had not known they had held. They each hugged each other, in disbelief at what they had done. They wanted to believe they were the ones who had swayed their mother, a mother who was sometimes more stubborn than a cranky donkey. But the proof lay in the growl of hunger not a moment before. Their cooking had done this, and to them if a Thanksgiving meal was enough to soften the sternest of mares then what else could it do? As their mother prepared to bring them apart—and enjoy the meal they had each helped to place before them—a pair of twin flashes filled the room. This served as something to be thankful for more than ever before on this once unfortunate now memorable Thanksgiving night. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ While this sudden turn in fortune happened at the Nut house, Ponzi Scheme could state without a doubt the evening was about to take a turn from bad to worse. ‘How did he know this?’ one may ask? From the sudden intrusion of a certain pegasus both he and Bryce Smales knew. “Hey, Bryce!” The slate grey stallion called from behind them. For Bryce, the stallion calling his name was unwelcome, since it drew attention to him. For Ponzi, however, he felt the stallion may well be setting in motion another way to defame the human. Though he thought this, Ponzi turned back, matching Bryce’s pace. Thunderlane came trotting over, at first with a smile to see Bryce. His smile faltered when he spotted the human’s companion. He waited a few beats before he stated a single word under his breath. “You…” Ponzi noted the three other pegasi who followed him: his younger brother Rumble, he knew, but there were also a pair of mares he did not; mares with similar indigo fur and pale-blue manes. The grey pegasus held his glare at Ponzi until Rumble said, “Lane, what are you doing? Don't waste their time; you're supposed to be getting me home.” Thunderlane looked back, remembering this was what he had been told to do. In truth, he should have had Rumble back home more than an hour ago, but then he met up with his fillyfriend and lost track of time. His original plan was to get the colt home as fast as he could—if only to spend more time with Cloudchaser—but with Bryce he found a way to kill two birds with one stone. His smile returned as he said, “I am; that's why I stopped Bryce.” He turned back to Bryce. “You don't mind getting my little bro home, do you?” Before Bryce could reply, Cloudchaser pulled close to the stallion’s ear. “Lane, are you sure you want…him bringing Rumble home?” She whispered loud enough for all to hear. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I?” He asked, confused by the question. “Well, uhm, it’s… He’s the Nightmare Night Nightmare.” He shot her a glare. “Don’t tell me you’re buying into that.” “Yeah, it’s not like he would do anything to purposely put anypony in harm’s way,” Flitter stated, shooting him a glare. “See, even she doesn’t believe that crap,” Thunderlane motioned with his head, though he was a little put off by Flitter’s look, oblivious to what it meant. “Rumble’s safe with Bryce; hay, we’re all safer with him around.” This resulted in a look from both Flitter and Ponzi. Cloudchaser shrank back, praying the human had not heard her. Spitfire, who had made a place around the base of his keeper’s mane, let out a ‘whoop’. “I don’t know, Spits,” Thunderlane answered before he looked back to Bryce. “So, do you mind taking care of the squirt?” “Lane,” Rumble said in protest, “Mom and Dad said we both had to come home.” “I will… Just…later…” Rumble returned a sour look. “Come on; you get to go home, and I get to spend some more time out with Cloud. It’s a win-win.” They both went quiet for a few beats before Bryce said, “Alright, I’ll get him home, if he’ll guide the way.” As Bryce and the pegasi discussed this Ponzi stood back and questioned the slate-grey stallion’s motives. He did not trust him for a moment—and if anypony knew the full story who would?—but he could not believe anypony could place their sibling in harm’s way, if only to prove someone like Bryce was not to be trusted. Thunderlane had risked Rumble’s life once; he was almost certain would not do so again. Almost. But the question remained: what did the pegasus have to prove by doing this? And further, what was he like when Bryce was not around? Ponzi decided to remain quiet for now and ask questions once they were away from this certain pegasus. “Okay, great, but it’s getting pretty dark,” he heard that certain pegasus say as he drew back into the conversation. “Spits,” he called, inciting a second ‘whoop’ to come from his mane. “Would you mind going with Bryce and Rumble to light the way if it gets too dark?” Another ‘whoop’ came from the pegasus’ body, then a small black and yellow shape ran down one of the stallion’s forelegs and up one of Rumble’s, making its roost within the colt’s styled-back mane. “Oh no, not on me!” Rumble said as he pulled the salamander from his mane. “If you’re coming with us you stick to Bryce.” He placed Spitfire on the ground. The salamander took one look at the colt before seeing it was a lost cause. With another ‘whoop’ he crawled up one of Bryce’s cargo pants legs and took refuge inside one of the side pockets. He turned around a few times inside the cramped pocket before he settled on sitting with his head sticking out. He let out one more ‘whoop’ to let everyone know ‘I’m ready’. “Alright, you guys stay safe,” Thunderlane said before he turned to leave. He stopped to look back and say, “And keep your hooves to yourselves.” It was directed at the middle-aged stallion, who returned a blank glare. Cloudchaser followed her coltfriend, leaving Flitter with Bryce’s group. When her sister and Thunderlane stepped out of earshot she turned back to Bryce. She did a short lookover of the human, unable to not notice his pale complexion, the bandages on his left arm and most of all his pleasant-looking expression despite his current appearance. She felt somepony needed to ask, as absentminded as she knew Cloudchaser to be, and as oblivious as that coltfriend of hers so often was. “Hey, are you really okay with taking Rumble home?” Bryce looked like he needed to concentrate on unloading something before he said, “I already said I’d do it.” “Yeah—I know that—but did you really want to? I don’t know how to say this, but… You don’t look…great…” To be honest, he had not wanted to do anything else tonight. His hopes had been to make his way home and try to sleep off the effects of the alcohol; he hated how the stuff made him feel a certain way outside his control. But he could not bring himself to not help when asked. He sucked in his lower lip before he said, “I don’t mind helping.” Flitter considered the response, trying to understand why the human would not provide a ‘no’. She then offered this alternative: “Look, you really look like you should lie down. If you want, I can get Rumble home, just to make up for what happened with Cloudchaser the other day.” It was a good offer to Bryce—and to Rumble and Ponzi as well—but he instead said, “I don’t mind doing it. I don’t want to keep you from your sister too long.” This response threw the mare back. Not that he had rejected the offer but that she had been thinking about her sister being left alone with her coltfriend. She pressed one more time, if only to say she tried. “I can leave her alone for a little while. I already know where they’re going: one of the bigger bars decided to give out food after…” She cut herself short, meaning to finish by saying, ‘after what happened on Nightmare Night’, but she could not bring herself to upset him. If she knew Bryce had been hearing her thoughts regardless, she would have chided herself more than she was now. “Anyway, foals weren’t allowed in the late hours, so if you want I can-” Bryce cut her off. “Really, I’m okay. It’s not far, and I need the air.” He said this for a multitude of reasons, but the biggest one was he wanted to end this conversation, so he could go back to the farm, with hopes to stay out of everypony’s way for a few days inside the barn. Flitter knew now she could not convince him. With a sigh, she said, “Alright, but I really am sorry about the other day.” She almost choked on her next few words, wanting anything but to upset him or make him feel worse than he did now. “I… I don’t blame you for anything that happened. I don’t know much about you, but you don’t seem like a bad guy. I mean,” she let out a chuckle she did not mean to let out, “even though you did wreck the place that magic of yours is pretty cool.” After she said this the smile which had plastered itself on her face melted away, leaving a shamed expression. “I… I’m sorry… Just…take care…” With this said she trotted off, wanting to make as much distance as possible between them both; not out of spite but out of her own embarrassment. As the mare left it fell upon Ponzi to pull the attention to the matter at hand. “Now then, unless anyone has a reason to wait, I believe we were tasked with escorting Rumble home.” He looked at said colt, half knowing the way himself but preferring one who knew the whole way to guide them. The colt blinked a few times before he understood the meaning. “Oh… Right… This way.” They travelled down a few turns before Ponzi felt comfortable enough to ask, “How have things been with your brother, Rumble?” Not expecting this, he did not answer at first. “Well, it's been a lot better since…” He looked to the side as Bryce, unsure if he should say anything about their time in Froggy Bottom Bogg. Before he could get a word out of his mouth, Bryce answered, “He knows.” Rumble trotted on a few steps before he remembered to close his mouth. He looked back to the grey-stallion. “It's gone better since Bryce saved us.” “Is that so?” Ponzi asked. “From what Bryce told me it was Thunderlane who saved you.” Rumble let out a snort. “Yeah, but did he also tell you he let me drown?” Ponzi kept quiet a few steps before he said, “He did, but Bryce also told me he regretted allowing you to come to harm.” “Yeah, he keeps saying he does. I already told him I forgave him I don't know how many times, but he keeps apologising. It bugs the hay out of me.” Ponzi looked over to Bryce to see if he had heard. He appeared to be interested in something else, as if he expected something or somepony to jump out at them. He took it to mean he took the responsibility of watching the colt as if he were his own brother. From the way Bryce had wanted to paste Thunderlane for almost hurting Rumble before he may well do the same to anyone else. “What else does your brother say?” Though he was a colt, Rumble could still feel the stallion meant something else. “What does he say about what?” “Well, about…” He motioned with his head towards the human. Rumble let out a groan. “You'd think they were coltfriend and fillyfriend; and Lane’s the fillyfriend.” “Oh, how so?” “Lane, he's… It's like one of those ponies you see who are really into the Wonderbolts—and I mean in to the Wonderbolts. You'd think Bryce was somepony who everypony says they know, just to make themselves look cooler than they are.” “So, I gather he...has only nice things to say...about Bryce?” “’Nice’ is too nice a word. You'd think he was talking about Celestia herself the way he goes on. I mean, I'm grateful for what Bryce did—I really am—but it's annoying how much he looks up to him now. And this was the guy who once thought Bryce was worse than they make out Nightmare Moon to be on Nightmare Night…” He choked a little, regret filling in the pit of his stomach. “That's…not saying you're bad, Bryce, but with what happened that night… I mean…what did happen that night? Because Lane-” Bryce raised a hand, silencing the colt. He asked something neither of the two ponies quite made out. “I'm sorry?” Ponzi asked. Bryce went quiet for a few beats before he said, “There it is again.” They did not quite understand, but what little they could said one thing: Bryce had heard something, something they neither had heard nor could have seen. They listened for a few beats. As far as they could tell, the three of them were the only living things out in this part of Ponyville—four, if one counted Spitfire, the salamander. Other than the four of them the street was deserted. Ponzi and Rumble looked to Bryce, who still looked about as if searching for something, something that wasn’t there. When he still found nothing, he called out, “Who's there?” Still the street remained quiet, void of anyone to call back. “Bryce,” Ponzi said, out of concern, “you have had a rough night.” He drew in close and said under his breath, “And from the amount of alcohol you’ve had I'm afraid you may be more inebriated than you believe.” “No… There's something…” He shut his eyes tight, then said, “Okay, both of you just shut up…” The pair were a little taken back; more so since they had not said much if anything. Before either of them could say this, Bryce said, “I mean your minds—shut them up.” Ponzi could not understand why, but Rumble understood well. They both did their best to keep their minds blank of any and all thoughts, regardless of their experience. After a tense few seconds, the human's eyes peeled open, revealing a low, bright glow. Rumble and Ponzi's minds went ablaze, unsure if this was something to be concerned with, or normal for the human they had come to know held strange, hard to comprehend abilities. This did not bother Bryce, however, for he had found what he had been looking for. He stuck out a hand and pointed. “There…” He said, causing the two ponies' gazes to follow. His finger led to an intersection, one where an open garbage can sat at the corner of a house. It was dark—almost too dark to see anything—but could make out the can from the way the moonlight reflected off its silver surface. Spitfire stuck his head a little further out of Bryce's side pocket to see better. When he looked at the can he let out a growl. Rumble let out a deep sigh. “That's all? It’s probably nothing but a rat or something. Here, watch.” He picked up a stone and chucked it at the silver can, which let out a loud, echoing clang. To prove there was nothing out of the ordinary, a pair of rats came scurrying out of the cans. The rodents ran off in different directions and out of sight. Rumble stepped over towards the trash can to pick up the thrown stone. He looked back to Bryce with a doubting stare. “See.” He juggled the stone a few times before he asked, “What’s got you worked up? It’s not like anypony in their right mind would dare try to come at you. I know what I said before, but they’d have to be crazy to want to come after somepony like you.” Ponzi had to agree: to say Bryce wanted to keep Rumble safe was one thing, but the human had been pure paranoid; and over rats of all creatures. “He looked over to Bryce with the same look as Rumble. “Bryce, whatever you think is happening I can assure you there’s nothing to worry about. Now, may we please bring Rumble home and get you into bed?” Bryce did not turn to meet the stallion’s gaze. He instead kept his focus on the space above where Rumble now stood, glaring daggers at the corner of the house at the corner. Then, in a tone which sounded gravely serious, Bryce said, “Don’t even think about it!” A few beats later, in the time it took for Ponzi and Rumble to begin to fear for Bryce’s tired mind, Bryce shouted, “Rumble, get out of the way!” Instead the colt froze, unable to do anything following the human’s outburst. When Bryce saw this, he did the only thing he knew to do. With a swipe of his hand he swept the colt away from his place next to the garbage can. With the colt out of the way he then used his other hand to send the small can flying upward. Ponzi had to shield his face as a sizeable portion of the house above said can exploded, sending debris in all directions. While most of the debris flew past the two ponies—leaving them unharmed—a fist-sized chunk of timber hit Bryce in the chest sending him on to his back. He hissed from the pain, taking a few seconds to register the pain. When he found himself able to ignore it, for the moment, he looked back to the same spot as before. “Damn it all!” He growled before he rolled over, pushed himself up and ran down the intersection. Ponzi saw Bryce do this, and tried to call out to him, an attempt made in vain. He made to run after him but stopped when he heard Rumble let out a groan. Ponzi stared at the intersection for a beat before deciding to leave the human to whatever he meant to do. He made his way to Rumble, bending down to have a closer look. “Are you alright?” He asked. For the most part the colt looked okay; there did not appear to be any large pieces of debris from the house in or near him, which was good. The stallion did, however, notice the way the ground leading to the colt held an impression, as if he had skid to his current position. Rumble let out another groan—not hurt bad but startled by the force of Bryce’s telekinetic shove combined with him sliding across the ground. “Yeah, I’m okay,” he said after taking a few seconds to feel for any deep, physical pain. “Where’d… Where’d Bryce-?” Before he could finish, said human came running back, with his attention now down the left way of the intersection. He ran a few yards before he stopped, taking in the area down the way. He found nothing out of the ordinary, ignoring the far-flung pieces of house he saw along the way. He turned back to Ponzi and Rumble, who were still at the intersection of the two streets. In the distance a series of shouts arose and grew louder by the second. Bryce ignored these, as well, and almost demanded of the two, “Did you see where it went?” They stared at Bryce in disbelief, unsure of what, if anything he meant. He asked again, with more force, “Did you see where it went?!” They were more unsure now than before how, if any possible way they could respond. The glow in his eyes had since left, leaving him with dark grey eyes. They looked at each other, worried how the human may respond. Ponzi took a few steps towards Bryce. “Bryce, we didn't see anything.” Bryce glared at the stallion in disbelief. “What do you mean; how could you not have seen…whatever that thing was. It was almost as big as that house,” he said, waving at the house at the intersection, which now had a big, gaping hole in its second storey. The garbage can which once sat on the corner lay on its side—all its contents sprawled across the ground and the can itself bowed in at the middle, as if it had come in contact with a heavy object, and hard. He looked at Rumble. “Tell me you saw it—you were standing right under it!” Rumble's mouth opened and shut, with only a low groan coming out each time. Bryce looked back and forth between the two, in deeper disbelief than he read in their minds. He looked up at the house, for once studying its features. It was two-storeys, maybe three if the upper eves held more than an attic. On one side was a balcony, one where anyone could get a great view of the street below. And it now held a feature, one quite new and unlike any of the houses around it: a large hole which provide a clear view inside, without a sheet of glass to separate the two sides. The more Bryce looked at the house he was sure he should remember it somehow, but in his intoxicated state he could not recall. By then the commotion which had been so distant before came to a roar as the first of those to hear the racket flooded onto the scene. What they saw only confirmed what most of them had already led themselves to believe: the Nightmare Night Nightmare had struck again. The world around Bryce fell away; he was dead to the world around him. The various shouts and words of scorn were nothing more than a high-pitched ringing in his ears. Ponzi stood between the crowd and Rumble, seeing he was the only one who could defend the colt from this raging mob. While he did so he tried to quell their anger, tried in vain to explain this away; in his years as a con-stallion he had escaped many such situations. This time, however, proved to be pointless: the attention was not on him. As the world continued to go wild around him Bryce stood with only one thought in mind: Rumble and Ponzi had not lied to him, despite how sure he had been. Then, from amongst the crowd, a mare's voice shouted out, quieting them all and bringing Bryce back to reality: “Bryce, you stupid jackass!” Soon Bryce's misfortunate Thanksgiving shall end. The sudden entrance of a certain mare shall lead to a tough decision for his sentence. The presence of another mare shall both harm and comfort him. Who was this mare who condemned Bryce? Read the next chapter if you would know.