//------------------------------// // Prologue: Star Trix - The Wrath of Clocks // Story: Welcome to the Club // by shortskirtsandexplosions //------------------------------// ~ ^ ~ ^ ~ ^ ~ ^ ~ ^ ~ ^ ~ ^ ~ ^ ~ ^ ~ ^ ~ ^ ~ ^ April 20th, 1005 ME 18:32:22 With fussy little horse noises, Trixie fought and fumbled her way through a throng of bushes. At long last, she came upon a clearing situated along the eastern fringes of the Everfree Forest. She swatted at some insects, rubbed her face, and squinted forward through haze and sweat. A cabin stood before her, peaking through the shadows of a dying day. Its rustic wooden surfaces blended with the browning forest under a copper sunset. The general hush of the world gave way to a chorus of crickets, one chirp at a time, like an orchestra tuning up for Trixie's arrival to this soft, sacred place. Trixie gazed upon the structure with naked eyes for the first time in ages. It appeared like a one-story building—and a very squat one at that—but Trixie knew better. There was a large basement layer beneath sea level; she had seen it dug out. But, to any other passerby, the structure resembled a stout little shack built on rickety planks of wood with a basic stone foundation. The rooftop was flat—consisting of multiple planks of wood interlaced with copper shingles—and over time a fine layer of moss and grass had formed a green earthy layer atop it all. There were windows—two per side of the rectangular solid building—but they had all been covered with opaque panels of wood. These panels were fresher cuts than the rest of the lumber, and they weren't there the last time Trixie had visited. If she didn't know better, she'd suspected that the building had been condemned. No light was allowed inside, and there were several heavy locks and bolts and seals slathered all over the main entrance, to which a short stack of stairs descended slightly, dug in the earth. There were several crates, barrels, and storage containers surrounding the south and west edges of the building. These also weren't here the last time Trixie visited. Granted, that was many months ago, and Trixie simply strolled through the laboratory to humor Starlight in exchange for a weekend of tea, shopping, and more tea. There were times when Starlight Glimmer was just... so insanely, terribly busy that Trixie would bend over backwards and do cartwheels just to have an excuse to see her. That was the one glaring problem with their friendship, and—in truth—it wasn't all Starlight's fault. She was a school's prime headmare and the most powerful sorceress in service to Princess Twilight. Meanwhile, Trixie was a counselor at the same school while mostly focusing on her show tours as a frontlining stage magician. And yet, somehow, they both made it work—like islands of bliss in a stressful sea. A lot of time, there was a copious amount of playing face. While Trixie admired Starlight's intelligence and skills, she was never too terribly interested in the substance of her science experiments. And Trixie would have been fooling herself if she pretended that Starlight had more than a casual interest in the showmare's long-practiced slight of hoof. But in the end, their friendship was based less on what they did and more about how they did it. Starlight was a clever pony, and she always knew how to think outside of the box. Trixie wasn't afraid to speak her mind, and Starlight seemed to like how she always went against the flow of the norm. Both had been lonely pariahs in their own separate paths—more than once. They also had sordid pasts of greater or lesser practiced villainy, so that was something they had going for them too. Equestria was a remarkable land and it had gone through many dramatic changes in recent years. But even when things were at their most stressful—with villains coming within inches of conquering the continent and former monarchs retiring for good—Starlight and Trixie always found time for one another. Precious, sacred, wholesome time... ...which made it all the more frustrating that Starlight had posted that note in the Castle dismissing Trixie for a little bit longer, and when Trixie finally arrived there at the sorceress' laboratory— “Where in Tartarus is she?” Trixie snorted, stamping her hooves down in the soil while frowning. “She'd better be cloning cancer-curing-genius-squirrels-on-wings because this is no way to dip out on Trixie!” Fuming... Fuming... … Fuming... … … ...Trixie marched around the house. She crept up to each window, squinting, cat-pawing the thick planks of wood hammered over the windows. “What... did she become a vampire all of a sudden...?” As she continued her slow orbit of the structure, serenaded by songbirds and cicadas, she took notice of the crates around her. Many of them had been hastily open, with lids and nails lying about the grass as if they had been freshly-pried open with a crowbar. Trixie knelt once or twice, inspecting white crystal vials spilling out of two or three of the containers. Moisture and mold had obscured the paper labels, but she was certain she saw an insignia or two belying the past presence of “enchanted manadust.” “Hrmmmm...” Trixie sniffed the bottle caps, making a face. “...Canterlot reagent. Expensive stuff.” She finished her loop, trotting down the steps and approaching the front door to the building. The amount of locks, bolts, and metal crossbeams slathered across the entrance was absurd. There were enough seals to keep a raging manticore out. Or perhaps an entire herd of them. “...maybe she's always been a vampire?” Nevertheless, Trixie pulled and tugged on a few padlocks like she was an impatient filly trying to open a present on Hearth's Warming Day. “Nnngh... eugh... mmfff!” Trixie sweated, huffed, and jumped back from the steps, frowning at the building as a whole. “Starliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight,” she whimpered, making sure the entire foundation shook from her whiny vocalization. “What are you even doing in therrrrrrrrre?” Her tail flicked as her lips pouted. “Can't you let Trixie innnn? I won't interfere with any of your experiments! I promise!” Dead silence. “Is this because of the teacups? Trixie has apologized for that! Multiple times!” More silence. Even deader. “Hellllloooooooooooooooooooo?” Her ears folded back. “Are you even in there?” All was still. The crickets doubled. The sky above darkened. A blue jay landed randomly on the rooftop greenery, caught a glance of Trixie, and flitted right off. The mare huffed. “Fine then! Stick to your experiments! But you're missing out on a reallllllllly snazzy anecdote I learned while I was in Las Pegasus!” Trixie slowly pivoted her body while keeping her bright violet eyes locked like an infant's on the building. “Trixie is trotting away now!” She stomped in place. “Totalllllllllly trotting away!” Clop! Clop! “It's how Trixie gets her exercise these days!” Clop! Clop! Clop! “By leaving!” More silence. She huffed again. “Are you sleeping in there? I can't imagine that place has air conditioning! You're... you're not dying from heat stroke, are you?” She cupped a hoof around her blue muzzle. “Because that would really chap Trixie's caboose! If you died from heat stroke! And stuff!” An errant breeze rolled through the pine trees stretching above the cabin. There was still no reply from within. “Maybe...” Trixie's voice lowered as she shuffled up to a window. “Maybe if I just got a peek...” She licked her lips as her horn glowed. “Just one...” A single plank of wood shook on its nail fasteners. “Come on...” Trixie magically pulled and tugged on the thing. “...let... Trixie... see! The plank shook and wobbled and—CRKKKK!!!—flew off its hinges, sailing towards Trixie's glowing skull like a sideways guillotine blade. “WAAAIEE!” She fell backwards as the plank spun overhead— Flassssh! —and stopped in midair before another glowing horn. An equine figure in a dark gray cloak and saddlebags stood in the center of the clearing. “Guh!” Trixie panted, staring at the figure upside down. “Excuse you, tall dark and creepy!” With lilac hooves, Starlight Glimmer lowered the hood from her crown, revealing a frazzled mane and baggy eyes. “Trixie...?” She blinked thickly, teetering slightly. “What are you doing here?” “Starlight!!!” Trixie hopped up on all fours. She paused in beaming just long enough to blush. “Erm... sorry about the 'tall' part.” “Hrmmmfff...” Starlight performed another slow blink. She trotted on heavy hooves past the showmare, levitating the plank of wood with her. “...didn't you see the note I left for you at the Castle?” “Uhhhhhhhh...” Trixie delicately touched her front hooves together. “...maaaaaaaaybe.” “And—as always—you decided to ignore my words and do what you wanted anyways.” Starlight's eyes narrowed as she placed the plank of wood back into place against the window. “Typical.” “Hey! Trixie hasn't seen her best friend in weeks!” Trixie frowned, gesturing. “She comes back from a long tour in Las Pegasus and it's almost like she doesn't exist!” “Trixie, we both know that's not true...” “Then why are you pushing Trixie away?” “I'm not pushing anypony away,” Starlight snarled. She turned around and rubbed a hoof over her tired face. “I'm a very busy mare. You know this. We've had to work schedules around this.” “Trixie knows all these things. But somehow... this is different!” Trixie approached Starlight with a worried look on her face. “Look at you...!” She caressed Starlight's tired muzzle and then batted at her tangled mane. “I know you might do experiments in a rat's nest, but since when did you carry a rat's nest on your head?” “I... I've been preoccupied,” Starlight muttered, pushing Trixie's forelimb away. “I haven't got time to fuss with my mane.” Trixie's muzzle twisted. “Well that much is obvious...!” Starlight sighed and trotted off. Trixie rolled her eyes. “Trixie is kidding! She's kidding. But call me selfish all you want.” She gulped and waved after Starlight. “I'm worried about you, Starlight!” Starlight shuffled to a stop beside some of the open crates. She hung her head. Trixie paced slowly towards her. “You've always been obsessed with your science experiments. But not enough to lose sleep and hygiene over it!” A wince. “And not enough to lose sight of Trixie.” “I haven't lost sight of you, Trix,” Starlight said. Her tail flicked limply beneath her cloak. “I haven't lost sight of anypony. In fact... I've had... everypony on my mind as of late...” “And what of yourself?” Trixie gestured. “What of the Great and Powerful Trixie's most awesome assistant?” Starlight was silent. Trixie watched as she reached underneath her cloak, fumbled, and ultimately produced a stopwatch with four overlapping faces. Starlight's head tilted; she gazed intently at the device for a few prolonged seconds. Trixie blinked. “Starlight...?” The sorceress snapped out of it. “Sorry. S-sorry, I...” The mare turned halfway to look at Trixie. “...I've got a tight schedule to keep.” “... … ...” Trixie's eyes narrowed. “When was the last time you slept, Starlight?” “It doesn't matter.” Starlight trotted past her—teetered once—and made for the steps descending into the sunken cabin's entrance. “Once I've gotten all of my work done, then I can rest. Not before. Not after.” “Oh, horse hockey!” Trixie cursed, frowning at her. “Haven't—like—one of your laser-blasting friendship lessons with Twilight and the Fruity Five taught you a thing or two about overworking it?” “Some lessons don't stack up in the long run...” “Is that the headmare of the School of Friendship talking?” Trixie leaned back and folded her forelimbs. “That's it. I'm telling.” Starlight turned to squint up at her. “Telling what?” “Telling on you!” “... … ...you wouldn't.” “Mmmhmm! To the Princess of Friendship!” “... … ...you would.” “The Grrreat and Powerrrful Tattle-Tellerrr!” Trixie stuck a tongue out and winked. “That's what will be marked on my grave if need be. Better mine than yours!” Starlight smirked. “You're such a villain.” Trixie pointed. “You first.” “Well, technically—” “Uh uh uh!” Trixie shook a hoof. “Somepony else was subjugating innocent ponies into a totalitarian commune of lies long before Trixie ever discovered the Alicorn Amulet!” “Well, somepony was messing with a sonic rainboom courtesy of Star Swirl the Bearded long before—!” In the middle of her good-humored retort, Starlight stopped entirely. Her smile gave way to a painful grimace, and her pupils shrunk—fixated on everything and nothing. Trixie blinked, concerned. Starlight cleared her throat. She waved a hoof tiredly. “Tell whoever... say whatever... but I can't stop working, Trixie.” “Awwwwwwwwwww...” Trixie pleaded with her forelimbs pressed together. “Can't we hang out for just a little bit? Pleeeeeease?” Her ears folded back. “And if you can't—then fine—but at least take a nap or something! You look like the living dead!” A pout. “It's gotten Trixie worried.” “... … ...” Starlight took a long, warm breath. Her cheeks appeared rosier for a blissfully brief second. “Alright, Trix. We'll hang out.” “Yaaaaaaaaaaaaay!” “... … … tomorrow morning.” “Boooooooooooo!” “I mean it! I... I want to be with you...” Starlight gulped. She breathed. “I want to see you... more and more. I'll...” A slight shudder. “Ten o'clock in the morning. We'll... we'll have tea at the castle.” “You promise?” “I promise.” “Pepper Pig Swear?” Starlight chuckled—a thing that nearly sent her teetering. “It's Pinkie Pie Swear, but sure.” “Pffft...” Trixie rolled her eyes. “How should Trixie know?” “You're right...” Starlight nodded. A gulp. “And I'm sorry for that.” Trixie blinked. “For what...?” “Somehow... one way or another...” Starlight looked sincerely at the pony. “...I will make time for you, Trixie. I will make time for all of us.” Trixie fidgeted awkwardly. “O... K...” Her ears perked up. “But tea is just fine too!” “Uh huh.” Starlight forced herself to face the entrance and summoned an enchanted glow through her body. “See ya, Trix.” FLASSSSH!!! And Starlight Glimmer teleported inside the cabin—or so Trixie judged from the flash of light emanating from between the cracks in the plank... ...as well as Starlight's absence. Trixie weathered a long, depressing sigh. “Ten o'clock sharp.” She turned and trotted away from the laboratory... away from the cabin... away from the clearing. “Ten o'clock sharp.” She repeated. “That's only... fourteen and a half hours from now.” Her trot broke into a happy canter as she smiled. “Better spend the night doing what Trixie does best!” April 20th, 1005 ME 22:47:55 “Waaaaaaa-aaaaaaaa-aaaaaaaaaaaaaa...!” Trixie sobbed into her pillow. The mournful throes sent her hammock swaying. Left and right. Left and right. More sobs. Echoing across the wagon interior. “Waaaaa-haaaaaaa-aaaaaaaaa...!” She wept, sniffled, and wept some more. “Noponyyyyy lovesssss Trixiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiieeee! Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa-aaaaaaaaaaa—” The telekinetically floated a rectangle of peanut butter crackers to her messy muzzle. “Nomf. Nomf—omff...” A gulp. “Waaaaaaaaaa-aaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” The blue crystal in the ceiling of the wagon flickered from the sonic reverberations of her drama show. Nearby boxes rattled. Cracker crumbs littered the floor. “I'm just a joke to everyponyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!” She floated another treat to her muzzle. “Nomf... nomffff...” A gulp. She snorted. Hiccuped. “Even Starlight can't stand meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!” Once more, she reached into the flimsy package with her magic... ...but nothing floated out. “Huh?” Trixie sat up, rubbing the tears dry from her face—the rubbing again just for rubbing's sake. “What gives?” She lifted the package in her magic, rotated it, shook it. “Oh come on...” Her sobs swiftly turned to snarls. “Oh come on!” She tossed the empty package away and leaned off the edge of her swaying hammock... reaching for a shelf where a metal can stood. “Trixie can't be out of peanut butter crackers...!” She gnashed her crumbly teeth, reaching, struggling... “How can she have her Great and Powerful soul-search without Great and Powerful soul-searching snack treats?! AAA-AAACKIES!” She was falling forward. Flailing. Then— —like an adorable blue anvil, she plummeted to the floor below. TH-THUD! “Ooomf!” Trixie rolled onto her back, legs sticking up like a fuzzy cockroach. She watched as boxes full of stage props teetered on either side of her—murderous monoliths on the brink. “No... no no...” Her panicked eyes bounced left and right. Meanwhile, the boxes plunged towards her like a parted sea coming back together. “No no no no no—!!!” Crassssssssssh! The whole wagon shook. A veritable pile of junk now stacked halfway to the ceiling. Meanwhile, the hammock spun around in multiple corkscrews... … ...before finally settling to a lazy dangle. Crickets. FLASSSSH! The junk exploded upwards—a volcano of nick-knacks. “Mrmmmf!” Trixie sat up, frustrated and dizzy. Thwappp! An object fell over her face, blinding her. “Grffff—get off Trixie!” She peeled the item off with her hoof and made to toss it across the wagon. “Trixie swears, she will throw you out the window—” She realized she was holding her scrapbook. “... … ...” Trixie eyes slowly rolled. She expelled a sigh during the extent of it. And once it had crested to a stop—along with everything else in the wrecked wagon—she surrendered to the moment, opening the book. Gazing at the later pages. Again, the sheets were almost entirely glossed over with Trixie, Trixie, and more Trixie. The showmare found herself skipping and flipping through the contents—if only to get to the sparse photographs that featured Starlight in them. And yet each appearance of the best-bestie sent shudders up and down the unicorn's spine. It was a caustic cocktail of emotions with each glance, and she retreated backwards through time, dipping into the familiar, boring, ever-pervasive blue. It humbled Trixie to know that the scrapbook mirrored the color of her mind. It was once a very secure texture—and it still was. But it was only now—at a time when there was no escaping the night and no remaining peanut butter treats to cast islands against the mist—that Trixie could take a step back and admit how... How boring it all was. And how damnably close she had gotten to getting used to it all. Getting used to herself. The mares back at the Castle of Friendship were right. Trixie did shun friendship and social gatherings. The whole concept was far too complex, too colorful—that it'd unlock a spectrum Trixie was too uncertain to tread. A simple canvas meant a simple mind, upon which to paint the ideas and creative ventures that would get the showmare ahead in her business. That would help her magnify herself in the one niche field in life that she had chosen to excel—for better or for worse. It was easy to be Great and Powerful when there were very few details to take seriously. Other than herself. Trixie was gnawing her lip at this point. She took a bold breath and flipped back towards the middle of the scrapbook—right before a grand sea of white. A blank and uncertain future. The color lilac—Starlight's smile and beauty and charisma—marked the start of a brand new spectrum. It felt like a damned shame that Trixie continued drowning it out in the all-too-familiar blue. It was no wonder that Starlight was locking Trixie out of whatever important thing she was doing. Trixie didn't give Starlight a chance to breathe... And yet Starlight gave her everything. It was more than what Trixie deserved. More than Trixie could ever have asked for. “More than Trixie could ever say...” A stifled whimper. “...Trixie wishes to know why she's Great and Powerful to you... … ...somehow... ... … even after all this time... … … after all that Trixie has done... … … and... … ...after all that Trixie has never done...” Trixie sat in silence. Alone in tiny in such a claustrophobic, forgotten home. So impermanent that it needed wheels to seek out something to anchor to. Under the blue haze of the light above, she blended in with all the junk tossed about. “What...” A quiet shudder. She caressed a lilac pony in a photograph. “...would you do when you feel this way?” A beat. Trixie blanched—for she knew the answer as soon as she asked it. The next movement nearly made her vomit. Nevertheless, she stood up... and swam through the scattered junk towards a cabinet set in the wall. Opening a panel, she produced a scroll of paper and a pen. Levitating both above her, she climbed back into the hammock, laid back, and began writing. “Hoofdini help me,” Trixie slurred. She brought the pen to paper: Dear Princess Celestia... The mare's eyes crossed. She winced, groaned, and scratch-scratch-scratched the top line before continuing. “Get with the times, Trixie.” She held her breath as she concentrated: Dear Princess Celestia Twilight Sparkle, The Great and Powerful Trixie here. You may have heard of me. I once imprisoned your entire town into worshiping me after I defeated you fair and square you in a magic duel. It was pretty cool. Anyways, let's not reminisce on the good times in the past. The Great and Powerful Trixie is feeling something that usually plagues most ponies beneath her: glumness. Is 'glumness' a word? Well, it is now. Trixie declares it. Just why is Trixie experiencing glumness? Equestrian scientists likely couldn't figure it out. I doubt that you can. But I've been told that 'Friendship Letters' are the key to learning valuable lessons... or some such crap. But what is there to write to you about? Trixie has only ever had one friend. Starlight Glimmer. You may have heard of her—she also defeated you in a magic duel. Multiple, in fact. Something to do with time travel. Pretty awesome, if you ask Trixie. At first, that was the first thing that gave us common ground. Our awesomeness—that and defeating you. But now, things feel... less awesome. Because there's less of me around! Meaning... there's less of Trixie in Starlight's presence. And that... feels pretty glum. Don't get Trixie wrong. She's pretty awesome without Starlight. But it somehow feels... less so... when Starlight isn't there with Trixie. And the solution isn't finding more friends. Or newer friends. Nopony can replace Starlight. Nopony should. But Trixie is getting the distinct feeling that Starlight—just maybe—doesn't feel the same glumness that Trixie does. And I think there's a reason for this. She has history. History with you. History with your friends. History with that lizard slave of yours. History with... lots of ponies. Sure, she made a lot of enemies for a while there in her life. But she made a lot of friends too. Even when she was an awesomely evil and diabolical dictator pony. She had something that Trixie doesn't. And I think she still does. And Trixie has begun to wonder... what if... what if maybe... Trixie has been doing it wrong all this time. What if Trixie could have done things differently. What if Trixie could have had what Starlight had for all these years... all these months... all these weeks—with you, Sparkle. With your friends. With this place. With Ponyville. All the ponies and donkeys and mules and squirrels and whatever. All the while Trixie was doing magic shows. All the while Trixie was on stage. All the while Trixie was in her wagon. So many nights—just Trixie and her wagon. What if things had been different? What if Trixie had trained herself to be into boring social thingies all these years. What if she could have spent all these years writing letters about friendship lessons to the Princess instead of cramming it all in right now in this dumb wagon and all of her peanut butter cracker treats are gone and this is stupid and you're stupid and everything's stupid and Trixie is stupiddjkaf;kljafd;kjafdlkjakl;df “Grrrrrnnghghhhh!” Trixie gnashed her teeth as she bunched the scroll up into a crumpled ball and tossed it across the room. It bounced a few stubborn times—much to her chagrin—until finally settling to a stop somewhere out of sight. The mare slumped back in her hammock, swaying a bit as she frowned towards the ceiling. “... … ...what is the use?” Her eyes shut sadly. “It's too late to change anything.” Her ears folded as she curled up into a fuzzy blue ball, cuddling her pillow. “...time is not on Trixie's side...” She didn't bother with the crystal overhead. The light dimmed on its own, casting her into blissful darkness. It took far longer than desired to find sleep. It was a torture Trixie was used to.