//------------------------------// // A Brave Night // Story: To the Gods // by Comma Typer //------------------------------// Air gallops around him. Tall buildings watch his descent. The floor had been only a couple hooves away, but there are now hundreds of meters to go. The sight only heightens his scream as he flails his arms like there’s no tomorrow, clutching the amulet for dear life. Falling and falling fast, he closes his eyes, braces for impact, hopes his sturdy scales can cushion the crash. Soft. Still hurts, but not as hard as a faceplant to concrete. Opens his eyes and sees white. Fluffy white. Fluffy white clouds. Clouds. Am I dead? That was quick. “Good thing you’re alive there, mister! Cloud trampoline still does the trick!” Another scream and another look up brings him face to face with his guardian angel: a colt. But the legends didn’t mention mask- and cape-wearing angels with voices oozing young radical attitude. The clearly-not-an-angel pulls him out of the cloud and onto solid ground. “Didn’t expect a portal to drop a small dragon around here, but things don’t make much sense these days, eh?” Rubs his still aching back and puts the amulet back in his bag, but there: the explosions, the noises everywhere. The fights going on around the city, the memorable skyscrapers, the civilians galloping off to safety thanks to ponies in funny clothes. It cannot be. It must not be. May be another dream, but pinching his arm says otherwise. Maretropolis. Not the simulated immersion he’d visited with Twilight and the others. The real thing. The pseudo angel before him becomes too familiar, and now his adrenaline speeds up to mammoth levels. Words dribble out of the awestruck dragon. “H-Hum Drum?” The sidekick hero pumps his chest and poses in style. “Yup! Hey, that means you’re from around here, right? Some ponies get teleportaled here from everywhere. Never met you before, though. Your name and story?” Stands right back up. “I’m Spike. Spike the Dragon. I’m not actually from around here. See, I’m from—“ An explosion pulls them back to reality: monsters demolish an apartment block into atoms, whacking at buildings or each other with street lights as their clubs. Criminals rob banks in broad daylight while citizens still out in the open flee the most dangerous zones only to stumble into lesser dangers such as disappearing buildings and a lack of gravity. They aren’t wholly lost, however, for costumed superheroes lead them through reality-allergic perils and into designated shelters. With most of the masses evacuated, the city’s left as a battleground between the ponies of the hour and monsters from other realms along with devious criminals and familiar villains. “No time to dally around!” and the colt yanks the dragon’s arm and runs. Ahead, a street of fallen buildings and suddenly vacant lots. “We’ll get to cover soon! Oh… uh, can you really breathe fire? Never met a dragon ‘till now. Was expecting someone much older and taller, actually.” “Yeah, I can breathe fire!” and a squirt of fire seals the deal for Hum Drum. A chorus of roars sing on, a roadblock of barriers falls before their path, and out of the alleyway slide stallions toting mohawks and punk faux-leather outfits. “You’re not getting away from us this time!” The white-maned leader fixes his eyes upon the colt, singling him out with a blade-studded hoof. “You might’ve bested us twice, but the Mane-iac’s Children will never forget those who wronged her!” Hum Drum rolls into position, watching their every move. “Then keep trying!” The stallions push forward to pile on him, firing bottles of freezing hairspray. They coat the road in slippery ice, but Hum Drum dodges the chilly particles with ease. A well-timed punch here and there, and several spray cans fall. Randomly exploding walls bring Hum Drum down thanks to a stray exploding arrow from a flying archer bandit passing by. The stallions take the chance and corner him, surrounding him with no path for escape. “Gotcha’!” With his magic, the leader picks up the defeated colt. “Can’t believe the sky has to literally fall down for you to get sloppy. And some good luck, apparently—“ turning his head up to see where the archer has gone “—but that doesn’t count! You’re ours now! Any last words before you go bye-bye, little one?” “Not on my watch!” The Mane-iac’s Children aim their hairspray cans at the meddling dragon. A mook warns, “One step closer, kid, and you’re gonna pay!” If he learned anything from Guys’ Nights with Discord, it’s that leaning on the wall makes you look cool. Even intimidating. So he leans on the wall, looking cool and, hopefully, intimidating. “What do you think I was gonna do, fellas’? Just stand down like a damsel in distress?” “Which means you’re going to take a step forward. You’re telegraphing yourself! Hah! You’re such a laugh!” Spike breathes fire and they do not laugh. Shots of hairspray go off, only for Spike’s flame to turn them into blowtorches. A can is dropped amid squeamish squeals, and Spike picks it up: his very own canned flamethrower! Ponies find themselves on the business end of his improvised weapon, and they scatter with fire eating at their shiny coats and handsome manes. That leaves the mook leader at canpoint, fire ready in the wielder’s stomach. “Let him go or I’ll make you!” He opens his jacket to expose the armor underneath. “I’ve got fire protection precisely for this situation! What’re you gonna do now?” “Nothing!” “Nothing?” “Yeah, nothing!” “You sure?” “Yeah, I’m sure.” “For real?” “Yes! Nothing!” “You’re kidding me. Literally nothing?” “Now!” The last mook squeals like a filly, his leg bitten by an unseen Hum Drum. A fire spray and a restraining lasso later sees him trapped and shrieking at the top of his lungs. “I’ll notify the others,” says Hum Drum, glaring down at the confined criminal, “see if they can carry you back to jail where you belong!” They exit the vicinity, leaving the stallion tied to his own roadblock while he curses Hum Drum, screaming that he’ll forever regret this day. As they enter another alleyway, Spike wipes sweat off of his face. “Is he going to be alright?” “He will. I’ve got a PDA.” Out of his costume comes a big red button which he presses and talks code speech into before putting it away. “There. Nearest superhero now knows where he’s tied at. Can’t exactly bring him to jail because, you know, city on fire and police is super busy, but he’ll be brought over to the authorities.” A jump across a fence and a hop down outdoor stairs. “You… you can just do that? I didn’t know you had that! I thought I’ve read everything about you!” The compliment almost makes Hum Drum stumble on a stray brick. “Read everything about me? That’s rich! Am I already a part of the BitTune 500?” “I don’t know, but I’ll explain when we get to… uh, where’re you taking me?” He gestures his head forward. “Power Ponies HQ. Lot of citizens and others are holding down there until it gets safer outside.” “W-wait… W-we’re going to—“ “Yup!” He flashes a smile at the dragon as they jump over some kicked-down trash cans. “One of the modern world’s seven wonders! Many creatures travel the world to visit our headquarters. It’s a beacon of light and good against crime!” More alleyways to gallop through and more fences to jump over. They cross roads and dodge abandoned cars and fleeing ponies, fending off against mooks trying to chase them down but Spike’s bursts of fire teach them to stay away. Overhead, buildings fall over or rise to the sky or change color or disappear or wave around: signs of reality flaking apart. “Alright, nearly there, Spike!” This close, though the urban jungle clutters his view, he can see it and stare in wonder: a great tower reaches to the sky, higher than every other building in the megacity. A sleek monochrome edifice seemingly stolen from the future, edges and curves blending together in aesthetic union. A giant P comes into view: the logo of the Power Ponies emblazoned on glass. It reflects the morning sun’s nostalgic yellow as other heroes surround it, the headquarter’s souped-up defense against the forces of evil laying siege on it. “Are you sure it’s still safe with that huge attack, Hum Drum?!” “I guarantee it! We just have to—woah!” The road sinks to reveal a sea of lava. An upward ramp of asphalt rises before them but not without a stretch of magma separating them between safety and death. “Oh, come on! Can’t believe I left my glider back at HQ! Spike, I know another route! We’ll just have to… Spike? Spike?! Where are you?” “Up here!” Hanging over the lava pool, the flying Spike waves his claw at him. “Spike!” His voice reaches a fever pitch in surprise. “You have wings?!” Beating his chest, “I’m a dragon! Didn’t notice? Wings are part of the package! Now jump up and I’ll get you a ride outta’ here!” The colt gets up, catching Spike’s claws only to drag him down towards the ground, much to Spike’s distressed yelps. “Hey! I didn’t know you’d be so heavy!” “I stress-eat pizza and the past few days have been hard, okay?” The ridiculousness causes both of them to laugh. “Can you still make it?” A missile of lava shoots past them, singing a strand of the colt’s mane, but Spike powers on. “Let’s say I guarantee it!” And the dragon weaves through the salvo of shooting lava, banking in all directions to avoid more magma missiles. With his muzzle and mouth, Hum Drum holds on to his freezing hairspray and shoots it at lava geysers to freeze them cold. Each tiny movement shifted Spike’s weight, tugs him to the other side and sometimes brought him close to crashing into a building sinking into another lava pool. They traverse the fiery river and the duo collapse onto solid road. Their run continues, darting through crumbling buildings, warzone parks, and rooftops necessitating parkour—all to shake off a new batch of bandits from their tails and clamp them down long enough for other superheroes to swoop in. A potion-laden mare jumps out a window and onto the end of the rooftop. The stallion by her side shoots arrows from his bow, tranquilizing the remaining villains galloping after the two children. The potion pony bends her knees to meet their eye levels. “Now they’re taking in dragons? The chaos must be getting stronger if they’re flinging dragons here. Now to—” Explosion rocks the rooftop. Cybernetic witches in jet fuel-propelled brooms pin the group down. The heroes prep up for another fight: potions thrown to instantly rust brooms and the witches’ machine body parts, arrows to tear apart their vehicles and to cut off their robot limbs completely. The two youngsters run as bait, hanging on to a broom and disorienting Queen Clip’s semi-androids on their moving turfs, only for the ranks of evil to be augmented by ninjas from the east and necromancers summoning the dead. A crossover of multiple arcs rolled into one, with heroes from multiple franchises doing it together! But reason comes knocking when he sees them aiming for his head and wanting him dead. With Hum Drum hopping from broom to broom and using the machines against them, Spike lets loose streams of fire, singing many and scaring away the rest. The potion pony shrugs before lobbing a potion behind her to petrify someone sneaking up on her. Smirking at Spike, “Not bad for your first time here! You a hero in the Dragon Holds?” Spike shakes his head. “No. I’m a hero from lands farther than that. Just trying to get back home, really.” “If that’s the case, you should get inside now. Can’t risk getting swept up by the bad guys out here in the open.” One dragon-flying flight down the building later with colt in claw, Spike fast follows Hum Drum to the skyscraper, realizing that they fought just across from their destination. They hit the entrance, passing by hundreds of citizens in the giant neo-modern lobby as police and volunteers and other heroes protect and feed them. An abundance of eyes gape at the two visitors, but Hum Drum remains unfazed. “I’m taking you to the floors for Dragon Hold dragons to stay safe in until further notice. I heard you said you weren’t from there, but I have to keep things organized when we start shipping everybody out here.” Spike keeps walking, gulping along the way. “Uh, n-no, I can’t stay there!“ The trip to the elevator doesn’t stop, Hum Drum giving the dragon a curious look. “You wanna be with me? Yeah, I get it. I wanna be with you too. You’re a pretty cool guy for someone who just fell from the sky! But orders are orders. Someone getting lost in this chock-full place could cause a lot of trouble.” Inside the elevator, Hum Drum takes the stool and presses the buttons on there. He hops to the floor and they wait. But Spike doesn’t want to wait. “I… I think I have to tell you something.” Fidgets with his claws. “Something important, Hum Drum.” The colt taps his jittery hoof. “What is it? And sorry, but please make it quick. I have to get back outside and rescue other innocent creatures outside. Who knows how many more creatures like you will fall from the sky? I need to help them out too.” “That’s the thing. I fell from the sky, right?” He replies with a nod. “Yeah. So you wanna go home, right?” Then the dragon’s turn to nod. “Like are we talking about the other side of the world? Oh, you’re thinking with portals, aren’t you? Quick way home?” “Heh. Something like that, but it’s much farther.” “Uh, any step farther than the other side of the world is a step closer to us. Global physics, you know.” Spike resists the urge to roll his eyes. “I’m still farther off than that.” That earns a double-take from the colt. “Wait, are you from outer space?! Spike’s next urge to resist is that of slapping himself on the head. Instead, his reptilian eyes plead with Hum Drum. “I need you to take me to the portal machine. The same portal machine that brought the Power Ponies up to another reality in the first place. I should—my backpack! Yes, I’ll show you!” He reaches for his backpack. Fumbling for a comic, the comic… Doesn’t find it. The other comics are there, though. A gulp races down his throat. “Did I leave it behind… there?” The colt cocks his head. “What do you mean ‘there?’” Matter-Horn crashes into a wall, sliding down and toppling another pile of comics with a mighty clatter. While Verumarendi laughs at the others still fighting her, still ignorant of the fallen unicorn, Matter-Horn gets up only to slip on yet another comic. Her horn slams into the floor: a burst of hot searing pain stabs through her head, and she screams. Despite her condition, Matter-Horn glances at the comic that caused her fall: in it, a twinge of familiarity; déjà vu. A risky look away from the madmare reveals the cover of the comic that started it all. “Give me that!” Verumarendi swaggers across the room but Matter-Horn avoids her punches. Levitating the comic, their ticket back home, she looks at the other Power Ponies by her side. “Hot potato this, girls! Make sure she doesn’t get this at any cost!” With comics of the Power Ponies in claw, “Okay, Hum Drum: What if I told you I’m from another world, and that world is where Verumarendi is right now, and the Power Ponies are busy fighting her, but she made a portal back to your world and I fell into it, but I have one of the amulets that empower her and—yes! You have scientists and wizards! I need your researchers to experiment on it ASAP so we can find out how to defeat her and save this world!” Hum Drum’s answer is a wide-eyed stare. “Are you sick in the head, buddy?” “I’m not sick in the head! I’m totally serious! The comics here prove it! I… well, you have to take me to the portal machine or at least somewhere close, somewhere private. Because I can’t just talk about the comics like—“ “Show me the amulet.” And Spike pulls it out for Hum Drum to inspect. It glows, pulsating with powerful magic. Goosebumps fall on the colt, his heart racing faster at the raw power radiating from the artifact. “I’ve spent enough time with Matter-Horn to know this is no ordinary magic charm.” Hum Drum grips Spike’s shoulder hard. “Tell me the entire story and what this amulet does. Leave out no detail. This could be a game-changer!” So Spike explains everything to him, a true elevator pitch thanks to the skyscraper’s enormous height. Through it all, the expression on the colt’s face rides a roller-coaster of emotions: from intrigue to dismay, from delight to determination—learning of the nature of his world, discovering Verumarendi’s ultimate plan, and hearing what the Power Ponies are doing in the world above. Elevator doors open and Spike’s jaw drops yet again: a laboratory to surpass all other laboratories. Rows of tables-on-wheels and irregularly-shaped cubicles house labcoated ponies and other creatures, consulting and working with heroes to concoct new weapons and suits to combat reality’s ongoing collapse. No time to waste: hurry to the machine. At the other side of the room, there it is in its own sealed cubicle: a great ring, floating there by magic, and ponies tinkering with it to keep it stable and not have it spit out unheard-of horrors. The colt introduces Spike to the science crew, asking them to bring the portal up and transport Spike to the world where he belongs. “There are dragons in the upper world?” quips an engineer, confounded at the cute dragon. “You are very stable for someone from out there.” “Uh, I’m just a baby dragon. Nothing like Verumarendi, I’m telling ya’.” Banal normality in a forbidden dimension eludes the well-read scientist. “Whatever you say, Mister Dragon! As long as you’re with the Power Ponies, we’ll make it so! We’ve stored up enough excess magic from their previous jump to give the machine a second jolt, but it needs ten minutes or so to charge. If you’ll be so kind as to wait…” The gathering of geniuses hook wires and plugs to the machine. Watching the spectacle are Spike and Hum Drum at a bench far away from anyone’s earshot. Nothing to do but be patient: to sit down and watch the portal charge up. Hum Drum swings his hind legs off the bench, observing and passing the time. “Oh, uh, hello?!” shouts Spike to a nearby geologist working on his own crystals. He runs after the bearded and goggled stallion. “Could you check this thing? If you wanna know, it’s from the world the Power Ponies went to. I think it holds the key to Verumarendi’s defeat.” Curiosity and a chance at yet more heroism draws the geologist’s attention and enthusiasm. “Oh, wow! It’s very magi-radioactive! Now boy, it shouldn’t take me too long! I’ll get back to you when I’m done.” The researcher left to his goggles and devices, Spike hops back to Hum Drum. The colt suits himself up with additional weapons and a fresh new cape to replace the burn marks from his lava escape. The soundscape of fiddled machinery and tampered magic sets the backdrop to their time on the bench. Hum Drum looks at him from top to bottom. “So you’re all set?” and he straps the hairspray can on his belt. “Ready to get back there and give Verumarendi the finishing blow?” “Yup!” but his grin fades into fear. “I just hope the amulets actually have a weakness… and hope I actually get back up there.” The wait drags on. Spike pony-watches while Hum Drum checks his suit and weapons. The portal lights up but in flashes, not unlike a decrepit engine hacking up dust and smoke before starting. “What do you think of her after all this time?” That seizes Hum Drum unprepared. “You mean my mom?” Spike blushes. Hum Drum a technical orphan, still a sensitive subject, especially when his mother and father remain missing and have been presumed dead for years. “Uh, I meant the Masked Matter-Horn!” The awkward moment goes away after one slow and labored exhale. “She’s been pretty good. I take it that you met her, saw what she was like. Reading her adventures in a comic book and then you meet her in person. Heh, I wish that would happen with my comics, but enough about me.” He brushes the brown puff of mane on his head, working in some style. “Hey, I bet you all thought it was just an impossible dream ‘til now, huh?” Spike holds his head high, facing the portal—starting up with sparks all over the place. Back to the battle. Back to home. Back to them. “Is she doing fine up there? Taking things well?” There’s a nod. Fond memories evoke a smile. “And… she’s… she’s been pretty good to me. Ma’ and Pa’ were awesome from what I could remember, but—“ and Hum Drum turns away, washing tears down with a quick gulp of water “—but Matter-horn’s the closest thing I have… to someone who was there for me all the way.” Spike almost clutches at his heart, but Hum Drum isn’t finished. “She’s a cool sister, sometimes even a mother. We played games especially back when it was just the two of us, before we fully assembled the Power Ponies. During those times, she… she did her best to train me and… and raise me. She may be smart, but she had to get used to the tough city life out here just to figure out what food was good for me. Didn’t stop her from spurring me to be better: found me part-time jobs so I could have a salary and not an allowance, buy my own stuff. Also didn’t stop her from dragging me into her world of research and study like when she tried to help me solve some of those unsolvable computer problems so we could get the million-bits cash prize.” A sole laugh pokes the room. “She’s lovely like that, Spike. She’s not like that with her own sister, even.“ “Wait, she has a sister?!” Hum Drum’s face goes blank for a second. “Uh yes, she does! Adde Hocke visits from time to time. She lives across the river in New Jockey’s. Adde’s contacts in the superhero world made the search for possible Power Ponies easier for us. Bet the comics didn’t mention any of that, did they? “Speaking of…” An uneasy whistle forces itself out of his mouth. “This whole comic reality business with you reading about our world and seeing our thoughts and deepest darkest secrets: whatcha’ make of it?” Spike holds an asking look for Hum Drum. “Fili-Second called me out for knowing about her love for caffeine before even meeting her. Though I know the comics don’t tell everything; I didn’t even know about her intervention in the factory until she told me herself.” Hum Drum nods to the click of the grappling hook on his back. “Yeah, exactly. As for me, I’m fine. Oh yeah, you’re surprised, but look at me.” A gesture to his cool and radical raccoon-mask face. “I’m not gonna wallow or sulk in misery. That’s not what heroes do. Besides… hey, you know what I think’s more believable?” Hum Drum being a competent theorist of many worlds doesn’t strike Spike as plausible, but with how much he learned of the Power Ponies over the past twelve hours, he takes the bait: “You have another idea?” The colt hero shows off an excited smile. “Simple, really: we weren’t made when a comic book happened. Everyone lived this life as if it’s been made from scratch from the very beginning, not as if some comic committee came over with their stats and graphs and outlines what not, but because it’s true. We’ve had a beginning, as in the real one they’ve got in the history books here. Your comic guys didn’t make us: they discovered us! Crazy, right? Or so we thought. We’ve already gone to a few alternate worlds here and there, and some of the whitecoats here believe in the infinite worlds theory. So really we’re just the lucky ones who get a comic book in your world, get to be famous in another universe. And that portal? It’s not a portal to realities above or below us: it’s just a portal between worlds!” It’s Spike’s turn to be caught off guard. “Wow. I… okay, we’ve discovered alternate worlds out there too. Two of them through a mirror, though Starl—er, a friend told me more mirrors were made but then got destroyed or lost.” “Then we’re certainly not ups and downs, above or below other realities! We’re parallel universes!” He rubs his forehooves in absolute glee. “Hey, do you mind me calling you a brother from another mother? No, a brother from another universe! How cool would that be?” And Spike lets slip a little smile. “Yup. At least I wish that were true, considering the enchanters—“ “Nah, they probably didn’t know what they’re doing!” He swings his cape around, standing proudly on the bench. “All I know is I’m not gonna let them tread on me! I’ve read enough sci-fi to know we’re on the same plane!” “Mister Spike!” The geologist rushes to the dragon, levitating the cursed amulet, goggles still on his eyes. His magic drops it onto Spike’s claw. “I’ve seen this kind of stone before, Mister Spike!” “You… you have?” He tugs at his coat, sweaty from the discovery. “Have you heard of the proximas?” Hum Drum looks at Spike for an answer, and the dragon’s ready with one: “Yeah, actually. Knew someone named Twilight and she mentioned it in her studies. I don’t know exactly what it is, though.” The geologist takes off his goggles to reveal a pair of red yet cautious eyes. “It’s a stone of vast power that grants the caster its entire storage of raw dark magic: lures the caster in, and before she knows it, she wants nothing more than power! However, as the name implies, proximity matters. Get it far away from the caster and she’ll no longer have access to the magic.” “Wait, wait, wait.” He holds out his arms to stop the geologist from going further. “Aren’t we far away? We’re a whole universe away from the caster!” “That stumped me too, until I realized—“ a pointed hoof toward the portal machine. “Stones are pretty smart. We’re still detecting portals in the sky; too high for most pegasi to reach, but they’re still detectable. The barrier between this world and your world, thanks to her shenanigans, is liquid enough for the magic to get to her as if she were in this city herself. I’m not surprised if she’s already realized this. It’s her opening the portals, after all, and nothing’s stopping her from entering this world and tracking you down.” “Then how far does Spike need to take it?” asks Hum Drum, steeling his voice with determination. “Far out. Destroying the stone won’t do, although it will destroy its compulsive alluring powers. In fact, I advise against destroying the proximas: it’s harder to carry powder away from the caster than whole stones. I urge you to send it as far away from Verumarendi as possible. What forms of transportation do you have there?” Spike scratches his head, seeing the pickle the Power Ponies are in. “Uh, trains, airships… but the nearest train station is like a long walk away, and who knows if we could get that far without her gaining ground on us?” The geologist sighs in frustration. “Teleportation! Teleport the amulets out of there!” “Matter-Horn can’t just teleport it randomly,” Hum Drum points out. “It could latch on to a new pony and she might get corrupted!” “Okay, what about—“ “Portal’s ready!” Heads turn to the magitech spectacle: the portal glimmers with colorful lights and magic, wheels and cogs rotating in perfect sync, powered by steady electricity and thaumaturgical energy. “When you’re ready, Spike!” one of the portal operators calls out. And there’s the way back. Just a dozen steps and he’s back. Back into the fray, back into the battle, back with the Power Ponies— No giant leap forward yet. One thing he doesn’t forget: a proper send-off for Hum Drum. Spike turns to the colt who looks back at him with a tinge of regret, with the face of Are you leaving so soon?—but then again, villains and chaos rage and quake outside, destroying the city and the world he serves. Hesitation at first. Then, extends a claw to shake. “Thank you, Hum Drum… for saving me and, well, being who you are. And for inspiring me. Helping me learn something.” “Duly welcome, Spike!” Hoof and claw shake, rise and fall, in unison. “And thank you too for coming by! Your story about that Twilight Sparkle pony though… gotta say, she sounds a lot like Matter-Horn! Guess we have a lot more in common than we both thought! Maybe we can meet again some sunny day, eh?” “Yeah. At least one more time… and hopefully without either of our worlds on the brink of destruction—“ Lightning zaps out of the portal, tearing down a light fixture. Ponies scream and yelp at the noise, and engineers already hurry to put it back on the ceiling. “We’re detecting instabilities!” the operator cries out, receiving error messages spewing out of the computers. His head swivels to the once-relaxed Spike. “You have to cross the portal before it destabilizes!” And Spike gulps: Starlight told him of the world in between worlds, of indescribable limbos and purgatories in that mirror portal thing—the fear of getting stuck there and the deadly unknown. “But wh-what if I get stuck in the gaps—“ “Might as well try or you might get trapped here forever!” and to Spike’s surprise, it’s Hum Drum who speaks the words. “Have you lost your mind?!” That’s the geologist, putting on his goggles to shield his eyes against the portal’s light. “Spike might get stuck in an unknown dimension due to wandering coordinates at best! At worst, he’d—“ Frantic feet attack the floor. Every pony turns to Spike jumping into the portal, screaming a battle cry, proximas in claw. All the operator can say is “Mister Spike, you brave fool!” before the portal winks out into nothing.