//------------------------------// // The Daughters of Hope (pre-revision) // Story: No longer Necessary // by chris the cynic //------------------------------// [The contest is over; I will revise the hell out of this.] [For information on the real world things holding up revision, read here.] [Be warned that this chapter, in its current form, kind of sucks] Hope has two beautiful daughters. Their names are anger and courage; anger at the way things are, and the courage needed to change it. --Paraphrase of a quote incorrectly attributed to St. Augustine One of the benefits of not being despondent all the time anymore was that Wallflower got to experience a whole host of other emotions.  At the moment she was sampling the essence of seething rage. It wasn’t directed at anything in particular, just CHS in general.  The vast majority of them still thought, or said they thought, that Sunset was Anon-a-Miss.  Anon-a-Miss was still publishing gossip, rumors, and things that had been spoken in confidence.  Sunset, while significantly better now that she had more friends, was still suffering. Before she had defaulted to the idea of using the memory stone to reach into the minds of everyone at CHS and tear out everything that might hurt Sunset, it was never something she could act on because Sunset wouldn’t approve.  (The fact that wouldn’t approve either, and might not be able to handle the guilt afterward, was obviously a non-issue.) That would be easy and require very little effort.  Other approaches would be harder. Anger, Wallflower was finding, was a powerful motivating force.  A very powerful motivating force.  It gave her direction, it gave her purpose, it gave her energy.  All of which was why she had borrowed Sunset’s phone and come to the library, and why she was seeking out the shoo-in for “Most Likely to Invent Cold Fusion”. In the early days of Anon-a-Miss, when it was just the Rainbooms being targeted, Micro Chips had followed it with just enough schadenfreude to earn Wallflower’s ire, which meant that she wasn’t overly worried about giving him unpleasant feelings.  That was good, because she had no idea how to approach this; her plan basically amounted to letting the anger do the talking. She found him at one of the computers. “Hello,” Wallflower said.  No reaction. “Hello,” she said more loudly.  Nothing. “Hey!” she shouted.  Not a damned thing. Since she was in a library, Wallflower decided to look for a book that might help.  Shortly afterward she slammed Weanling’s Dictionary - Unabridged --all twelve and a half pounds of the nearly four inch thick tome-- on the table next to Micro Chips. He actually looked at her. “Hi,” she said, “we’ve been in classes together since fifth grade, but you don’t remember me.”  She pulled over the chair from the next computer. “Don’t worry, I’m used to it.” She sat down. “What matters right now is that I’m Sunset Shimmer’s girlfriend.” “Sun-- Sunset Shimmer?” he asked.  Good. Fear. Wallflower could probably work with that. “Yes,” Wallflower said.  “I’m sure you’re smart enough to know that she’s not Anon-a-Miss, but many of our fellow students aren’t.  As you might imagine, that’s quite a blow to her, given all she’s done to make amends.” Wallflower paused. “Me, though?” she said, “I’ve never felt so alive.”  That was true, and Wallflower had somehow failed to notice it until that moment.  “All of this anger and outrage over how she’s been treated is, honestly, invigorating. “I feel like I could tear this school apart brick by brick, burn the rubble, and still have energy left over to hand out specialized individual punishments to each and every person who’s wronged Sunset.” “I . . . I haven’t--” Micro Chips said. “Oh, I know,” Wallflower said.  “You’re a good kid. You were mean when the sirens were here, sure, but ever since Sunset set you free, you’ve been good and nice and so forth, right?” Mirco Chips nodded. “And that’s why I’m here,” Wallflower said.  “Since you’re so good and nice and helpful, I’m sure that you’ll be eager to help me clear Sunset’s name.”  That got another nod. “Anon-a-Miss took pictures off of Sunset’s phone. I need to know how.” Wallflower held up Sunset’s phone.  “This is her phone, if I give it to you and tell you when the pictures were taken, you’ll be able to tell me how it was done, right?” “Well, I mean . . .” Mirco Chips said. Wallflower gave an “I’m disappointed in you,” look. Mirco Chips said, “It’s theoretically possible, but--” “Good,” Wallflower announced, “I’ll wait.” She stood up to give him some space, but stayed in sight. ⁂ Sunset hadn’t asked why Wallflower had wanted her phone, she’d just said she’d trade it for the memory stone.  While her original plan had been to show it to Maud Pie, ask her about it, and remember what Maud said, Maud proved too knowledgeable for that. So she’d had Maud write it all down, thanked her profusely, and added that to all of the results of her own tests on the stone.  Then told Twilight she wanted to visit. If Sunset couldn’t be a good girlfriend, and she was beginning to think she couldn’t, she could at least be a good friend.  She had the ability again, it was time for her to do something. Wallflower gave Sunset her phone back, and asked to talk to Twilight; Sunset gave Wallflower the memory stone back.  Then they’d headed to the portal. It was finally time to go when Wallflower and Twilight were done talking.  There was just one thing left to do. Sunset handed Wallflower the journal that Celestia had given to her and said, “This is my most important, most valued, and most powerful possession.” Wallflower looked it over and doubtless concluded that it looked like a book.  They’d never really talked about how Sunset was able to contact Twilight, so this would all be new to her. “I need you to keep it safe,” Sunset said, “it’s magically connected to an identical copy in Equestria --basically for the purpose of magical text messaging-- and that connection is the only thing that’s letting us open the portal right now.” “So, if I don’t keep it safe, you don’t come back?” Wallflower asked. Sunset nodded. “It’ll be the safest book in the world,” Wallflower said.  “Promise me you’ll come back.” Sunset promised, and then she brought up her own fear.  Something that absolutely terrified her. “You’ll still be you when I do, right?” “I promise,” Wallflower said. A kiss goodbye, a few steps to the portal, and sunset’s world became rainbows. ⁂ The phone had paid off.  Mirco Chips seemed to think it was nothing short of a miracle that it did, and was appalled at how little Sunset had done to protect her digital privacy. It turned out that the “How?” didn’t matter.  Instead it was the exact answer to “When?” that made the difference.  The pictures had definitely been stolen by a Rainboom or a family member; no one else could have gotten them off the phone in the time available. That wasn’t enough, which was why Wallflower was sitting at her desk, in her currently Sunset-less room, scribbling random thoughts about incidents from another universe. She’d asked Princess Twilight about similar incidents involving the counterparts of the Rainbooms and their families in Equestria.  Unfortunately, the princess had shared three such incidents. Within a single year, an anonymous individual using a three part name erased the status of someone who had recently become a hero and damaged her self-esteem, a pseudonymous school-based source released secrets and gossip that tore a community apart, and an impostor caused the Rainboom’s five counterparts to abandon the sixth member of their group. The princess described the first as an attempt to teach a lesson via leading by example gone wrong.  Like Sunset, pony Rainbow Dash had recently attained hero-status. Unlike Sunset, she was letting it go to her head. The princess and her friends decided to show her that a hero could be humble by becoming a humble hero (all of them taking turns as the hero in question) but then they let their fame go to their heads, started singing their own praises, made everyone forget about Rainbow, damaged her self-esteem, and drove her to extremes. A lot of that fit, but the things that didn’t were glaring.  The Rainbooms were most emphatically not singing Anon-a-Miss’ praises.  There was no lesson, well delivered or otherwise in Anon-a-Miss. Anon-a-Miss was, so very much, not a thing that could lead by example. The second fit so very well at first blush, but it fell apart after that.  “Anonymous source revealing secrets and sowing discord,” sounded like a perfect fit, but none of the details worked out. The ones behind it, the pony versions of the Canterlot Movie Club, only resorted to gossip when the school paper’s editor demanded juicer fare than the legitimate stories they’d attempted to publish.  MyStable didn’t have an editor. They only used a pseudonym because they weren’t allowed space for three names in the byline.  That problem didn’t exist on MyStable. They weren’t impersonating anyone. They weren’t targeting anyone in particular either. Anon-a-Miss, by contrast, was very clearly all about Sunset Shimmer.  It existed as a way to hurt her, and that was nothing like the pony-CMC’s foray into ill advised publishing. The pony-Rainbooms didn’t blame and abandon one of their own, either. The third incident seemed the most promising, but it also presented some of the largest problems. There were plenty of differences.  The princess had been quick to point out that, while her friends left her, it was a “We’re very disappointed in you right now,” kind of thing, not a, “We hate you and our friendship is over,” kind of thing.  She emphasized that she was the one to make outlandish accusations, she appeared to be irrationally freaking out, and it was easy to see why she’d would do what they thought she’d been doing. Also, the impostor wasn’t pretending to be her, she didn’t end up the target of abuse from the general population, and so forth. What made it so promising wasn’t in the details.  It was in the motive. According to Princess Twilight, the impersonation served three purposes.  Chrysalis, a love sucking shape shifting insect creature, was mostly likely to be detected by the Princess of Love.  By capturing and replacing her, she neutralized that threat to her plans. Replacing said-princess also allowed her to suck love from two of the most powerful ponies in Equestria, which let her turn their own power against them.  Finally, it put her in a position to neutralize the one pony most vital to the defense of canterlot. Sunset was the individual most likely to detect a new magical threat.  Anon-a-Miss turned her power (in the form of both her reputation and her tactics) against her.  Sunset was absolutely vital when it came to defending CHS from magical problems. By acting against Sunset the way that it did, Anon-a-Miss accomplished all of Chrysalis’ goals.  It also implied that the problem was some new player on the scene. The glaring problem was that, potential-Chrysalis wouldn’t have access to Sunset’s phone, and actual-Chrysalis never had enough power over the pony Rainbooms to suggest potential-Chrysalis could make one of them steal the photos. The whole thing was a mess.  Means said CMC, motive said unknown person working from the shadows, opportunity said the Rainbooms themselves. Wallflower dropped her head to her desk, put her arms around it to block out light, and wished the world would leave her alone for a while. ⁂ Nothing scared Sunset as much as the possibility of something bad (self inflicted or otherwise) happening to Wallflower while she was away. There was one thing, though, that came close: seeing Princess Celestia. It wasn't even that she'd committed treason. Or that she raised an army. Or that the army was of mind controlled innocents, which meant that a cornerstone of the plan basically amounted to saying, "You won't kill a bunch of innocent kids, I will if that's what it takes," meaning it, and leveraging that into keeping the guards, royal or otherwise, out of the fight. Honestly, that was probably the part that she could justify most easily. Experience had shown that the only way to defeat the Elements of Harmony was to swarm the wielder before they could be brought to bear --why, for example, the Elements were useless in the face of the Changeling invasion-- so finding a way to make the hordes of low powered ponies out of the fight was the most important consideration, and --provided Celestia really wouldn't kill school children-- she'd found a way to do it without a single blow being struck. Not that she was particularly proud of a plan involving mind control that she made while corrupted by dark magic, but once you got passed the whole "My morality had shut down" thing, it was something that she could explain. It also wasn't that she'd tried to kill Twilight Sparkle, the Princess who was currently walking beside her. Having constructed a partial list of things that it wasn't, Sunset finally got around to facing what it was. Celestia had given Sunset everything she'd ever dreamed of and more, and as soon as Sunset got it, she responded with, "I want more!" Things sort of went downhill from there. Sunset couldn't even remember if she'd ever thanked Celestia. One would think that she must have --there had been so many times she should have, so surely she said, "Thank you," at least once-- but no memories came to mind. Sunset wasn't sure if it was her suicidal tendencies, or if she genuinely was that afraid of Celestia's actual response, which she was sure would be measure and merciful, she just knew that a swift execution sounded really nice right now, and the only reason she had to oppose it was that Wallflower still needed her help. And so she walked on old familiar roads, and entered the Canterlot Castle as a petitioner for the first time. She and Twilight had already agreed that she'd do the talking, so of course when the time came she froze up. After what seemed like endless awkward silence, Sunset managed to say, "Princess . . ." and a while later she added, "I . . . I . . ." and at that point she froze up again. Celestia spoke to herself, which was not an ordinary Celestia thing to do, and the words were probably as crushing as intangible things could ever be: "I knew this was a mistake." Sunset considered just letting her body go limp and dropping to the floor in whatever way gravity deemed best. "Guards," Celestia said, and for a moment Sunset thought execution might be on the table, "clear the room. Raven, court is canceled." "I'll see to making accommodations for the ponies inconvenienced by this development," Raven Inkwell said. "Thank you," was how Celestia chose to communicate the message, 'You're dismissed; you should leave.' Sunset was looking at the floor by now, and was caught completely off guard when she found herself wrapped in a hug. A hug that included white feathered wings. Celestia said, "I'm sorry." Sunset said, "What‽" And suddenly things didn't feel so bad; just confusing.