//------------------------------// // A Bow Which is Bent and Drawn // Story: To the Gods // by Comma Typer //------------------------------// “Psst! Hey! Wake up!” He swats the intruding pokes away. More pokes invade. He holds on tight to an imaginary pillow. It’s only the seat’s cushion. “Psst! Spike! Wakey wakey!” Shuts his eyes tighter and rolls onto his back. “Ten more minutes, Twilight…” “Can this Twilight princess pony shoot lightning at your face?” Spike wakes up with a yell, face to face with Zapp herself. A decent dress on her, the lightning pendant disguised as jewelry among other pendants in the shape of diamonds. He looks around wildly, realizing where he is (in a train) and who he is with (the Power Ponies). Mistress Mare-velous and Radiance are playing a game of I spy with the outside world. On a seat closer to his, Saddle Rager and the Masked Matter-Horn write down and compare notes about this world along with more specific plans on what to do in Clockwisely. A cup of coffee and several more accompany Fili-Second. A distracting hoof blocks his sight. “Yoo-hoo, eyes over here!” That’s none other than Zapp hovering over him with authority and sass. Spike rubs his eyes free from rheum. “Uh, yeah. Sorry about that, Zapp. I just—“ “Can’t get the buzz off that we’re the Power Ponies, huh?” She lands on the seat beside him. “We’re gonna need you to stop ogling us like we’re just the Power Ponies. If things go south, being frozen in awe won’t do us any good. Oh, and the conductor announced that we’re less than half an hour from Manehattan, so yeah. In case you were wondering why I got you up.” “Why didn’t you wake me when we’re five minutes away?” A hint of irritation, and then instant regret for telling off Zapp the Power Pony. “Because that’d be cutting it too close.” She puts a hoof on her hip. “Let’s face it: none of us know exactly what we’re up against. You’re our point pony… er, point dragon in town, so we need you bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.” Spike straightens his tail in reply. Outside, things have gone downhill after the Applelachian Mountains, train wheels spinning faster as they speed out of Fillydelphia. “Yeah, you got a pretty cool night sky.” Zapp’s head is upward toward the horizon. “Quite something when you’ve got a princess literally moving the moon around.” By then, the rest have approached the now-awake dragon. He’s showered with greetings of a good morning and, with Fili-Second in particular, an invitation for more caffeine via coffee. “What do you think about it?” After some minutes of seeing cities fly by them, Spike’s question hits Zapp unaware. Confusion scratches her face before a knowing smile appears. “I don’t think about it too much.” It’s a brow-raiser for Spike. “Or it might bother you…?” Zapp hoof-combs her excessive mane.“I overheard that conversation you’ve had with the captain. Reality, some philosophy stuff here and there…” More concern wells up in the dragon’s heart. Close to the feeling of being caught, and that’s without talk about other realities. And yet, “So what do you think about it?” Zapp crosses her forelegs. “There’s some good in it, but if you ask me? I’d say it’s hogwash.” It leaves Spike with a gaping mouth garnished with a dropped jaw. “Wow. Um. Uh. Woah. That’s—“ “Blunt, I know,” sharing a half-serious glare with Matter-Horn. “She’ll beat me over the head for it, but that’s how I see everything. I don’t need mental gymnastics to tell me I matter. I already matter to myself and my friends. Getting here is even better; that means I matter to two worlds! Now that’s a bargain!” “...what about you being a comic book character and all?” “That’s hog’s backwash coming up your mouth, sir drake! I thought talking to Miss Matter here proved that much. Did you think we wailed over metaphysics crossed with comics and whatever?” She pumps her chest with resounding thuds. “We live our lives as free ponies, and we do our own thing!” “But what about the writers—?“ “Writers, schmriters—so what? I’d say you just shut up, but you’ve heard of my catchphrase, haven’t you?” “Zip it or zap it!” yell dragon and pony in unison. Pride puffs up in her heart. “I didn’t pay some writer to make that up for me. I thought about it myself because I wanted it my way. Zap that or else!” Enumerating with her hooves, “It’s catchy, irresistible, and a motto for life: if I can’t zip my way through my problems, I’ll just find a way to zap them! From makin’ it rain to making goons’ bodies rain from the sky, I gotcha’ covered!” “That reminds me!” Another zip and Fili-Second’s by Zapp’s side. “Remember that one time when we were on a stakeout for Lady Arsonne?!” Spike blinks with confusion. “Lady Arsonne? Who’s that?” “Gotcha’ slipping!” Mare-velous trots forward to take the seat ahead of Spike. “The comics have nothing about Lady Arsonne? Not even a one-issue story?” Spike shakes his head. “No. I don’t think they mentioned her a single time. Not even in fan fiction!” “Oh, well.” She brushes the wrist of her suit, preparing herself for a story. “Lady Arsonne was some criminal syndicate’s small-time boss back when the Power Ponies were just starting up. Arsonne did her homework and was expecting Radiance and Zapp to check her clique out, so she didn’t expect an Earth pony to waltz into her secret den. Lasso’s pretty good for snatching incriminating evidence, taking pictures, and putting them back in their places! Had to stay with them for a few days to get all the info we needed. Their initiation was grueling, but it was enough to get their guards down when the police came knocking.“ “Yeah, but you forgot that we’re the stakeout!” Fili-Second slides a notepad onto her hoof, ready with pen. “Say, sir Spike the Dragon, would you like to hear the tale of the Donut Marathon?” “The Donut Marathon?” and Spike salivates at the prospect of tasty donuts and unknown lore. Fili-Second throws her hat up in the air, revealing her lightning-shaped mane. “See, we were waiting on the rooftop by Horseshoe Street. The hideout’s across the road, disguised as a laundromat because all the bad stuff was done underground. The rest of us had to be sure Mare-velous wouldn’t get into any trouble—“ pats on the mare’s shoulders so fast that the mistress winces “—so we had to stay up and watch every angle of approach. ‘Course, with stakeouts, you had to stay there and watch the place for hours and hours and it gets boring. You, little smart reader, would know how I get bored with long stretches of time, so guess what I did.” Spike eyes spin at Fili-Second’s ludicrous rambling speed. “You got on the Donut Marathon, right?” “Right’o, buckaroo.” A slap on his back, but she yells, “Ow! Scales are pretty hard for a baby dragon! Eh, it’ll heal. “Anyway, we’re getting hungry so Radiance told me to get some grub. I went around and got a donut from each donut shop in town—put it all in one big box I’d prepared for the occasion. When I was done, I got up to the rooftop and said, ‘Hey, it’s a box of glazed donuts, but each donut’s from a different donut shop! Wanna guess which one’s from which? It’s from every donut place in town, so it’s the ultimate donut test!’ So that’s how we got a keen eye on the laundromat front and another eye on the donut… and then our mouths in another donut!” “And, as usual, I won.” Matter-Horn the donut genius: Spike drops his jaw at that. “Having a mental photograph of the entire city gave me the edge to win. Even made up a couple tables and charts to determine the best routes to and from anywhere at anytime too.” Spike’s raised claw halts her train of thought. “Let me guess. You memorized the average traffic density for each day of the week per district? Something like that?” “Why, yes! Some said I was going overboard with it.“ “Aye,” and Rager raises her hoof to her friends’ giggles. “But you must know it proved imperative in stopping the Simoon Fez,” Matter-Horn continues, and Spike leans his head forward for another unknown tale. “He fabricated blackmail material on us, and every time we tried to intervene, he could just spin it off as criminals trying to keep their secrets secret. We narrowed him down to a certain car and planned out his most likely route. We orchestrated roadblocks here and there under a false flag operation, and we let his short temper do the rest.” “And could you imagine him trying to kiss me?” bolts out Radiance. “My taste for beauty, brains, and the perfect stallion is well-known, but posing as an ex-lover of mine was a new low.” Rager lets loose an evil grin. “Doesn’t stop you from crushing on Kart Cent, eh?” Radiance’s eyes shine in glittery dreaminess. “Nothing does!” “Aren’t we over that already?” asks Zapp, her forelegs crossed over the back of her head. “It’s not over! You’ll see it as bright as day when we wed under the rising sun, and we both say our vows, and then—“ “But he’s still my brother,” Mare-velous cuts in. “I like big romances from time to time, and I’ve borrowed some of your sappy romance books, but well…“ “Wait, you have a brother?!” Spike shouts, jaw unable to drop any lower. Mare-velous does a double-take. “That’s an awful lot they’re not telling you, huh?” “But they never foreshadowed anything about a brother!” “Maybe they left some room open for interpretation. Though that’s lots of room if we’re talking about somepony as important as my brother.” “Your origin story never mentioned a sibling!” “But that’s it. I do have a sibling, and he’s Kart Cent, my brother. Swell guy. Used to superhero with me, but he found the calling too hectic, so he settled down in Los Angus to do stand-up comedy. We still write each other once in a while, and we meet every Thanksmaking Day.” A blink is the only thing he does. “Wow, I… I guess I didn’t realize how much I… didn’t know about you.” As the words come out of his mouth, something swirls. Details from the compendiums, the lore, the books, the issues, the conventions, even the special interviews he listened to in the conventions. With all these, much is still lacking. “Yeah, creatures are complex like that,” Rager cuts in. “But on the bright side, we could share some more about ourselves, to tell you stuff you never knew about us. I think that will interest you a lot.” He spaces out of the conversation, staring long upon each Power Pony—no costume, just the clothes of everyday mares. No caricatures or well-written characters: just simple ponies. An offer to see the Power Ponies as only ponies. “Let’s give this Spike dragon some of his own voice, eh?” chirps up Zapp. “We haven’t read comic books about you, but you said the princess you live with is a hero. That’s gotta be worth a ton ‘round the campfire.” She puts on an I’m-seriously-paying-attention face and fixes her mane once more. “You don’t mind wowing us with your exploits, do you?” All pay attention to him, leaving the stars above unnoticed. “Don’t worry!” says a Matter-Horn sitting on her haunches. “If you want to keep it a secret, it’s fine. We’re just trying to let off some steam. We’ve got our plates full as is.” After everyone shares a hearty laugh, Spike opens his mouth and begins recounting the tale of his friends’ adventures, starting with the fateful day Twilight Sparkle left Canterlot on a mission to handle the Summer Sun Celebration in Ponyville… By the time Spike finishes up the ultimate battle between good and evil, ending with the petrification of Equestria’s three most-wanted villains (with Radiance concerned for a very evil schoolfilly) something flashes in the distance. A glance out the window uncovers horseshoe arches rising tall on a bridge. Not too far from said bridge lies a huge copper statue of a robed mare lifting a torch to the sky, garnering crowds of visitors from far and wide. A vast river lies around the statue and the busy isle, illuminating a too-early moon-lit morning with a sea of mirrored city lights. Manehattan. The grand metropolis is never dull in the eyes of a village-dweller like Spike. Duties quell his excitement though: the convention, Clockwisely HQ, whatever answers they may get about a matter far greater than the city that’s always awake. “Looks alright,” says Fili-Second casually. “Smaller than I thought, though. How big is this place?” Spike raises a claw and opens his mouth to realize he doesn’t know the answer. “It looks at least ten percent smaller than Maretropolis,” notes Matter-Horn, taking out a calculator and magic-tapping the buttons. “It’s a rough estimate.” “With ten percent fewer donut shops too, hopefully,” suggests Mare-velous. “You take that back!” and Fili-Second rumbles with a growl. “‘Would you like it if they had no jute shops here?” Radiance rubs the power bracelets under her disguise. “I’m content to be in a city where jewelry would be in stock. The non-superhero kind, obviously. Perhaps this world has gemstones our world doesn’t possess!” “You girls actually have more, far as I know.” He counts one digit on his claw. “For example, adamantiniumite is just a legend here. In your world, it’s a very rare natural mineral, as you know.” The train crawls to a halt. Shadows pass over them before a tunnel becomes the shadow to all shadows. Bricks surround them followed by the terminal proper which is half-full of ponies waiting in line for their rides. They exit their carriage, skimming past the passengers. Some look and wonder if the Elements of Harmony are stupid enough to disguise themselves but leave Spike unclothed like a sore thumb. Sloppy but they shrug it off: no weird monsters have shown up in the city, so no thirty-minute disaster to tackle tonight. Down the steps and off the station: out extends the cityscape of Manehattan from the inside. High-rise structures, squished-up row houses, tree-laden sidewalks, and roads brimming with carriages of which a third are taxis. Traveling hooves pound the asphalt as they pull carriages of ponies or strike the concrete as crowds of pedestrians still roam the streets this early in the unborn day—all to the soundtrack of screeching wheels, very fast words, and brewing coffee cups. “It’s just like home!” Matter-Horn proclaims. “Just without the cars.” “Isn’t that a letdown?” Fili-Second rests her figure on the wall, observing Equestria’s sorry state of vehicle technology. “At least I have the advantage over any chasers. Wonder if there are any—“ “No donuts,” and Spike wags a finger to the mare’s slight sorrow. Armed with a map and filled with butterflies at the thought of leading the Power Ponies around, “Now that that’s clear, I’ll bring you girls to Clockwisely. It’s down south, close to the financial area.” The city’s sights vanish in their haste: the Bridleway Theater District with its world-famous theater where only the cream of the crop perform, the Stonefaller ice-skating rink with everyone from pathetic newbies to professional prodigies ripping up the ice in fashionable grace, and the grand Manehattan Park smack in the center of the city with open spaces of grass for relaxation and roaming around. The heroes’ wowed faces reveal their fascination and their desire to check them out in full. Maretropolis’s alternate names arrive in his mind with the Broadpath Film District, the Boulderdrop Hockey Rink, and Middle Park inconveniently placed on the eastern edge of the city. “Hey, what’s that line for?” Rager’s question and her pointed hoof lead Spike to the line in question: a crowd of ponies standing on the sidewalk, rounding the corner. Enthusiastic ponies in their line, it turns out: they have some notepads, tons of cash, and decked-out costumes. Zapp’s pointed wing singles out a mare with a stretched-out paper-mache wig painted green everywhere. “That one looks like the Mane-iac!” Spike freezes in place. Trepidation snakes up his throat. A loud gulp later, “I… I think I know where this line leads.” He tells them to stay put and runs ahead. He crosses the whole block to reach the start of the line, and his fears—mixed with fanboy elation—surge to the heavens. The ponies in line hold comics and wear costumes too reminiscent of recent events. A dash ahead of the line takes him to the building of the hour: the Manehattan Convention Center. The location of Power Ponypalooza. “Hey, Spike! Is that you?” Having met Spike in some Daring Do convention (thanks to Rainbow stringing Twilight stringing Spike along), Quibble Pants is unperturbed by his presence. Daring Do isn’t the only thing he geeks about, although the Power Ponies are a distant second in his rankings. The ultimate test of his nerdiness, then, is if he is nerdy enough to see through the Power Ponies’ disguises from a block away. “Uh, yeah, I am!” Spike politely shakes the stallion’s hoof. “Nice to see you, Quibble! I was just wondering what this line’s for. I thought it’s 24/7?” “Amateur.” An off-hoof whicker of superiority. “This has got to be your first time in an all-day all-night convention. This line isn’t for the entrance. This is the line for the autographs.” With the amount of floor space the convention covers, the proper reaction is a few seconds of silence. “That long?” “Yup, that long—hold on, you brought Rainbow along?” A turn of his head, and there’re the ponies standing on the other side; Quibble counts the six of them. “Not really,” Spike replies behind a good-enough smile. “They’re a couple of new friends I’ve made along the way. They came to Ponyville to visit the princess, and we just struck a chord.” “Are they fans of the Power Ponies?” “Sort of. I introduced them to it!” The line moves and Quibble takes several steps forward, Spike following him in lockstep. “If you want to catch Ratter Fjord’s autograph, hop on in! We can argue about Zapp for days. In fact, we could start with calling out your friends here.” Before Spike can stop him, he shouts, “Hey, you! Friends of Spike! I want to talk to you!“ What are you doing?! is what Spike wishes to say to him, but the damage is done: the Power Ponies come forward and answer the loud pony’s call. Quibble takes a little bow at the six of them when they arrive. “Spike’s new friends, right? You’re not the Twilight Sparkle and company I expected, but six of you, so at least I got the number right! And you must be…?” “Over Hill,” says the Masked Matter-Horn, cordially putting a hoof to her chest. “Here are my friends: Return Stroke, Alane Mooring, Fivepoint Tulip, Poppy Sizzle, and Soda Light—“ introducing Zapp, Mistress Mare-velous, Saddle Rager, Fili-Second, and Radiance respectively. “And yes, we’ve met Princess Twilight Sparkle and her friends. It was an enlightening experience, to say the least.” “Enlightening is quite the understatement.” A chortle trails his words. “Let me tell you, being friends with the Rainbow Dash beats just meeting her, and it beats it right out of the water! But enough about me. You’re going to the con?” Matter-Horn opens up with a smile. “Why, yes.” Spike grabs the sides of his head. “What?! But I thought… I thought you—“ Careful with her words, “I talked about it with the girls. With how you went on about the Power Ponies these past few hours, we wanted to see the real thing for ourselves, get the absolute fan experience up close and personal.” “B-but—“ The unicorn leans close to his ear. “We’ve done undercover missions before. Just trust us and relax. Also, I’m curious!” Their cover getting blown, ponies recognizing them, a slip on a banana peel tearing their disguise off and proclaiming their true identities to the world: these race through Spike’s careful mind. But this far deep, with an excited Quibble there with his stupidly big geeky smile— Spike gives in and nods. In his best fake totally-not-surprised-at-all accent, “Yeah, sure.” “But you can’t just go inside without some good financial planning!” Quibble asks, eyeing the six fully-clothed ponies versus his meager apparel of baseball cap and polo shirt. “You seven have to drop serious bits to nab all the goods. You could get the entry-level tickets, but you’ll miss out big time.” “Don’t you worry.” A clawful of shiny gems come out of his backpack. “Heh! Isn’t that smart of you?” Spike nibbles on a ruby. “I always lug some gems around in case of emergencies. Never know when I need the money. They also double as food in a pinch.” Following small talk and tiny pleasantries, Spike and the Power Ponies bid him farewell. With a close call averted, they go around the line and to the entrance of the convention center: a multi-purpose edifice of glass; chock-full of stalls, booths, merchandise, and ponies milling around with the joy of hanging out with fellow fans. A huge poster shows off big names in the industry attending the event: comic artists, story writers, theater actors, the occasional business executive, and one musician famous for— “The Power Pony Jamboree: The Musical?!” Rager looks up from the brochure a guard gave her. “And there’s half a dozen other events going on right now, and it’s not even sunrise!” “Are you absolutely sure about this?” asks Spike. “Like, all of you? I don’t think you’ll find answers to your reality here.“ “I know, Spike.” She slows her wings down. “I only wanted… to see this for myself.” “Besides, you did say we matter to this world,” adds Matter-Horn. “I think it’s fair we give this con a shot. It’s our stop at the gas station—refuel ourselves for the journey ahead, so to speak.” After remembering the concept of “fictional” gas stations from Caballus, Spike lets out a shrug and loosens up with a giddy grin. “I mean, I’ve been wanting to go anyway, so...” None of Spike’s close friends, at least those in Ponyville, have been huge enough fans to go to a Power Ponies convention. Shining Armor—the one who introduced the whole thing to him while growing up with Twilight—used to be an avid devotee, but now he isn’t thanks to Crystal Empire duties (though the thought of Flurry Heart enjoying the Power Ponies intrigues him: an opportunity to pass on his legacy). There is Scootaloo too, but she’s only a casual fan, loving the action only because it reminds her of Rainbow Dash—and of course, Zapp is her favorite character. Beyond those two outliers, Spike and his comics have stood alone in Ponyville. So to get to a convention with Shining before moving to Ponyville was a real treat: seeing hundreds of fans united in a common fandom. The merch he got was a jackpot: so many plushies, a couple first-edition comics, and several autographs too. It was an experience to never forget. The experience hasn’t dulled since. Hundreds of fans here and there, interacting with books, figurines, plushies, comics, each other—already a hall or two with events going on: a panel with writers and illustrators, a cosplay contest for the best costumers out there, and a simple Q&A interview with news reporters. The best of all: the Power Ponies themselves are with him, enjoying the convention with Spike as they drink in the scene. They quickly go their separate ways, still never too far for Spike to see from a distance. Closest to him are Mare-velous and Radiance just a few meters away. “Now look at that!” quips the mare, examining a booth replete with landscapes and portraits of high-quality fan art. “And you made all of this?” The artist chuckles at her and Radiance, unaware of their true identities behind the disguises. “Your first time in a convention, huh?” Radiance takes over with, “Yes, though we’ve assumed some things here and there going in. To think you could do art like that and—“ she looks at the artist’s cap “—you seem to like her a lot, don’t you?” The artist tips her hat to her, the cap bearing Radiance’s cutie mark. “I’m a big fan of her, but Mistress Mare-velous is a close second.” Radiance can’t help but blush. “The attack-construct unicorn strikes me the most. Now I’d like to buy some art of her. What do you say to a quick sketch of Radiance?” “Oh, sure! That would be five bits! Just give me a moment...” “…and here we go, Miss Tulip! A sketch of Saddle Rager for you.” And Rager herself receives the sketch of her real self. Cheerily with flapping wings, “Why, thank you!” “My pleasure, ma’am!” With that, the pegasus hovers to a hall across the room, enamored by how somepony could be so familiar with somepony else from another universe. She gets closer to the front of the hall. A contest is going on. “And finally,” a microphoned voice booms through the room, “the winner of the One-Hour Early Morning Cosplay Contest is…!” The name is announced, and applause erupt for the winner. Rager flies close to the ceiling with a few other pegasi to get a good vantage point of the champion: a mare cosplaying as Rager, complete with the brown mane, the gray coat, and all the costume’s little details. Even got the petals right. Fili-Second finds it hard to hide her voice’s speed. The pony before her and everyone else here is Just. Too. Slow. Especially when it comes to rare and expensive editions. “Come on!” Fili-Second taps her hoof on the desk. “Can you at least tell me what’s special about the Collector’s Deluxe First Edition here?” “I would,” the salespony begins, “if you stopped interrupting me like—“ “What do you put in there, anyway? I’m sure it’s not just free ballpens. Or it’s a cereal thing where you put toys in the box… though given the target market for comics these days, I’m sure that wouldn’t fit well with the ‘periphery’ demographic.” “…like that.” “Argh. Do you at least have signatures?” The stressed-out seller rubs his eyes. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, Missy.” “Then why didn’t you say so?!” And the stallion bangs his head on the table. “Guests these days...” “And your point is?” says a pony wearing a Mare-velous mask. “That Zapp is a very complex pony,” says “Return Stroke” Zapp. “Sure, she’s hot-headed some of the time, but you gotta know there’s much more depth to her than her moniker of The Heartland’s Daughter of Thunder.” “Oh come on! She just shouts catchphrases all the time while zapping ponies left and right.” “Look, buddy, do you even read the comics?” The mare’s ears falter. “Why, y-yes… and I write some fan fiction on the side.” “Can I read some of it? Especially if they feature Zapp. I’ll be more than happy to help you understand her character.” She complies with a gulp, taking out a long scroll from her saddle bag. “Why are you so willing to defend Zapp anyway?” “Well, she is my favorite character.” “Figures.” Away from Radiance, Mare-velous takes a gander at the jewelry and necklaces spruced up with logos, symbols, and cutie marks from her world. The exorbitant prices ward her off from any serious consideration to purchase. “Oh, hey there!” When Mare-velous turns around to see who said that, she sees a few ponies approaching her, big smiles on their faces as they’re all decked out in merchandise. She swallows a lump in her throat, fear of detection on her mind. “Uh, hey! What’s going on?” “Could you take a photo of us?” asks one of them, taking off her thin glasses for the picture and hoofing a camera to Mare-velous. “Um, sure.” And so she does, taking photos of posing fans under the camera’s white flashes. They study the resulting photos, laughing at their funny faces. “We’re definitely having these as keepsakes! Wait until every pony back in Vanhoover sees this! Thanks, uh, what’s your name?” “It’s Ma—uh, Mooring! Alane Mooring.” “That’s nice!” The fan nervously tugs at her own ponytailed mane. “Hey, wanna hang out with us for a bit? We’re waiting for the interview panel to start in Hall C, but we paid premium for reserved front seats, so we’re just walking around to pass the time.” Mare-velous answers with a smile. “For a few minutes, sure.” Her new group of buddies cheer at that, already making their way to said hall. “Yeah! So, for starters, how’d you get into the Power Ponies in the first place?” Mare-velous first stops herself from telling her life’s tale. A few seconds of a cover story later, “So you know how it involves heroes: hero comics and wanting to be like them or at least be a pony on the good side, you know? One day, a friend told me about it and...” Matter-Horn, in her magic curiosity, checks out everything there is to see in this huge building: attending panels and interviews of the comic’s own creators and staff, window-shopping all sorts of merch there, eyeing the numerous comics of her and the best friends she met over the years in her team of supers. Then there’re the ponies present in this place. They laugh at each other’s jokes as they lounge by a pair of vending machines, eating and chatting in the cafeteria area about everyday life—meeting up for the first time and being overjoyed at seeing somepony with the same likes and interests and hobbies as them. And then’re the occasional hugs. Even the chanting of Power Ponies forever! like she herself said so many times to rally everypony together for a fight to the end. To see all these ponies here, united: a whole community of— “And I wanna be like you, Miss Matter-Horn!” She halfway jumps out of her spot, but instead glances slightly to the side. There, a filly shouts and points at some pony dressed up as Matter-Horn. The filly’s parents let her hug the mare standing stupid, the dressed-up pony unprepared for something as cute as this. The Matter-Horn cosplayer lets the hug continue. She rubs the filly’s mane while the foal’s parents tear up at the heartwarming display. The real Matter-Horn looks on. Mutters, “Good on you, kid.” The sight of colts dressed up as Hum Drum, stringing their moms and dads along, sends Spike into a gleeful fit, as if Power Ponies everything hasn’t been enough to jack up his joy levels. But the mission burns at the back of his mind even as he sees plushies to maybe buy. Nearby, a pony without any serious cosplay but a simple Power Ponies cap. Although the cap covers part of her mane, the blue-fuschia tail and her three-candy cutie mark are too familiar to brush off. The mare can’t help but look at the only baby dragon in the building. “Spike? Oh, uh, wow! I didn’t know you were here too!” “I didn’t know you were here!” he yells back. “What are you doing here?! I didn’t know you like the Power Ponies! You… you don’t seem the type.” “Eh, it’s not my idea.” In the background, a green unicorn hoards precious merch in bursting saddle bags, jumping from stall to stall and taking pictures with her camera every few steps. “It’s Lyra’s. The mare’s crazy, I swear. Pesters me to go when we still have three more days to catch the con.” “Ah. Tagging along because you’ve got no choice?” She breathes a sigh of relief. “You could say that, but Lyra’s a good friend. I wouldn’t miss this for the world if my friend’s coming. Takes sacrifice to do what must be done, don’t you know?” Spike blinks at the weird wording, but he excuses it away when the mare takes a big yawn. “I’m gonna get some wake-up juice.” She turns to a nearby coffee dispenser. “Catch you later?” “Catch you later!” and he waves at her until she’s out of sight. With that over, he checks the time at a nearby clock. Fifteen minutes already past: enough time down the drain, so he rushes to regroup with the Power Ponies. After several more minutes in the convention, they trot their way toward Clockwisely Comics HQ. Silence simmers around them. None of them speak a word as they pass by spacious avenues, see the skyscraping billboards on the humongous walls, and smell delicious coffee and tea from bars and cafés—wakes them up from post-convention hangover. A dragon’s cough breaks the ice between them. “So, uh, how was it?” Matter-Horn lets her tongue roll behind her cheeks. “An eye-opener, that’s for sure.” “Are you sure it’s just that?” “It was quite the treat to see how we’re portrayed in this world,” Radiance chimes in. “It was refreshing, to say the least.” “Yeah, I would know.” All eyes now to the rope-handling Mare-velous. “Being at the frontier, fending for my life, fighting bandits while protecting sacred treasures—do enough of that, and ponies’ll get around you. The con’s like that and everyone there’s got our back, rooting for us. Though they clearly don’t know who they’re talking to.” Spike chuckles. “That’s one mission accomplished! No one caught any of you or something like that?” “None,” Matter-Horn is glad to report. “I think we’re safe for now… although in hindsight, I didn’t see your contact there. Isn’t he an employee of the compa—uh, Spike, where’re you going?” The fast-running Spike turns his head back. “How could I forget Beat Space?! I even wrote a note about him, argh!” “Is he in trouble now?” Zapp asks. Spike stops. Leans down and pants, takes a breather. “I don’t know, but he’s the one who sent me the comic in the first place. Maybe he knows something everyone else doesn’t: something we could use to our advantage coming into Clockwisely. Don’t worry about directions or maps: I’ve been to his apartment—yeah, there! It’s at the end of this block. We get in, check in on him, maybe he tags along with us, and we’re on our way to the HQ—“ “Did you expect the police to be there too?” asks Fili-Second. “If they knew, that’s too many ponies in the know. Why’re you asking that?” “’Cause the police are there.” A look forward serves Fili-Second right. An apartment block curves around the corner of two narrow streets, and police carriages now surround the entrance. Yellow tape and blue uniforms set the outside scene as cops report to each other and interview apartment residents with other civilians. Spike sprints to the nearest officer, the Power Ponies hot on his heels. “Ma’am, what’s going on here?!” The officer turns around, baffled. “Spike? As in Spike the Dragon? And I see you’ve brought the Elements. So you know Beat Space, then?” “I know Space Beat—a friend of mine—but that’s not the Elements. Just some friends, new friends, and—“ “Good thing you know him.” She looks behind her: another carriage screeches to a halt to spew out another batch of officers. “But yeah. Hope you weren’t planning on visiting him tonight. He’s dead.” “What?!”