MEANWHILE!!! In the treacherous depths of The Abrams System lies planet Hermite! A fascistic nightmare world, ruled with a merciless iron hoof by Grand Tyrant Torquestia and her fanatical shock troops The Torquestianators! Her hateful goal: To “purify” the cosmos of “variant” ponies - unicorns, peagasi, or any who aren’t “true” Hermites - and every other mythological creature! But one brave “variant” holds back the tide of Torquestia’s vileness. Lady of Horseflies, Mistress of Kaos, Horsceress Supreme:
NEMESPARKLE THE WITCH!
Last prog, Nemesparkle’s allies Purity Pie and Rainbow Slash were captured and brought to Torquestia’s imperial stronghold, The Sequestrium! Now they stand before the maniacal mare herself, awaiting judgment! Several hundred Torquestianators crowd the high walls and cliff hangings of the grim cavern, their uniforms emblazoned with their leader’s favorite sayings: “Variant Equals Virus!” “No Horns, No Wings, No Problem!” “Merciless, Not Merciful!” “Be Strong! Be Alert! BEWARE!” The terrifying soldiers jeer gleefully at the bound and helpless mares. But their neighs are silenced as the beloved Grand Tyrant addresses the crowd...
TORQUESTIA: Purity Pie! You are accused of violating Hermite’s glorious unity by bucking with this variant degenerate, and aiding the occult marerrorist Nemesparkle! WHAT SAY YOU?!
Flanked on all sides by bigoted murderers, stared down by the universe’s most brutal ruler... Rage and defiance, not fear, fill the small pink resistance fighter! Rage for all the innocent ponies and monsters sent to Torquestia’s Fiery Furnaces in the sadistic overlord’s brutal campaign of intergalactic hate!
PURITY PIE: I say... DEATH TO TORQUESTIA!
The Torquestianators whinny with fury, tossing rocks and debris at the accused.
RAINBOW SLASH: That goes double for me! I’ll buck with whoever I want, you genocidal psycho! I love Purity, and nothing will change that.
TORQUESTIA: Really? I believe you’ll find it difficult to feel much of anything after a dip in my InSinerator! Sister Punch! Into the cleansing flame with this overgrown pigeon!
BARREN PUNCH: By your command, Grand Tyrant!
Rainbow Slash struggles frantically to spread her wings, but the leather restraints hold tight as Torquestia’s minion lifts her. She plunges into the InSinerator’s vast red maw, screaming obscene death threats to the grinning Grant Tyrant which are soon drowned out by the roaring flame.
PURITY PIE: SLAAAASSSHIIIIIEEEE!
TORQUESTIA: There, there. Chin up, little one. You’ll be joining her in the ash grate soon enough!
Suddenly, a familiar voice echoes in Purity’s mind.
NEMESPARKLE: Purity ... do not be afraid ... surrender to the furnace … and find freedom!
PURITY PIE: Nemesparkle?
Purity barely has time to ponder this cryptic message before she is dropped into the raging inferno beneath! But seconds before she makes contact with the flame, a white light fills her vision. And when it fades...
PURITY PIE: Slashie! You’re alive?!
RAINBOW SLASH: Thanks to Nemesparkle! She attached a teleportation spell to the InSinerator.
Slash gives Purity an ornate, extremely lethal laser-saddle. It is then Purity notices the dozens of ponies, monsters, and assorted spooks armed to the teeth with state-of-the-art weaponry, standing behind her pegasus companion.
RAINBOW SLASH: A teleportation spell that leads directly to the Grand TorquestiArmory!
Meanwhile, back in the Sequestrium, Torquestia’s suspicions are raised. She wonders why she doesn’t hear the satisfying pop of bones vaporizing, the musical screams of variant death rattles. There can be only one explanation!
TORQUESTIA: NEMESPARKLE!
Almost on cue, the Sequestrium’s vast ceiling collapses, raining debris on the assorted crowd. Torquestinators skitter frantically to avoid being crushed by the lethal downpour, but many are not so lucky...
And, as the dust parts, an infamous ship appears. The purple-and-green striped starfighter The Blitzspike, piloted by none other than Nemesparkle herself! It shoots into a spiralling kamikaze dive, aiming straight for Torquestia!
NEMESPARKLE: I don’t know how you survived being drowned in the Sewer Cosmick, but I don’t care! IT ENDS HERE, TORQUESTIA!
Before the Grand Tyrant can move, The Blitzspike smashes into Torquestia’s official Decree Sofa. Nemesparkle emerges, searching for the dictator’s corpse among the rubble.
She finds ... nothing!
NEMESPARKLE: Strange. There should at least be a big red smear on the nosecone.
TORQUESTIA: Think again, arch-variant filth!
Floating above Nemesparkle is a gruesome visage. Her enemy has become a decaying, larger-than-life phantasm, whose ectoplasmic bulk looms mightily overhead!
TORQUESTIA: You see, I didn’t survive the Sewer Cosmick’s brackish waters. No matter. Mere death can’t stop me from carrying out my sacred duties! Though dodging your ship did leave me quite famished. Sister Punch!
BARREN PUNCH: Yes, Grand Tyrant?
TORQUESTIA: I require a host body.
BARREN PUNCH: Coming right up!
Sister Punch grasps her head, giving it a sharp yank with her hooves that ends with a sickening crack. A gelatinous, partially translucent wave swarms into the departed pony’s nose and mouth. Torquestia rises on shaky legs, feasting from her loyal minion’s fading life energy.
TORQUESTIA: Aaaah, delightful. And now that I’m refreshed, time to purify your rancid existence with my bare hooves!
Miles below this terrifying scene, surrounded by heavily-armed rebel troops and mountains of artillery, five brave ponies discuss their next move:
Purity Pie! Leader of Neato, the anti-Torquestia hermite pony resistance movement!
Rainbow Slash! The fearless pegasus divebomber, whose razor-sharp wings can slice through time itself and summon Weather of Mass Destruction!
Flutterstein! The mechanized warhorse pacifist, programmed to fight until she ends every war in the universe!
Jackie Apples! An old-fashioned harvesting robony turned Hermite killing machine, but her love for a “variant” overrode her programming and made her a Hermite-killing machine!
Raritte! Seamceress extraordinaire, and lone survivor of the Hermite-”purified” unicorn planet Karro!
Hoofpicked from across the farthest reaches of the galaxy, they are Nemesparkle’s greatest allies in the fight against Torquestia: The Elements of Khaos!
JACKIE APPLES: >>KKZKT<< Goshadangit, y’all! Why’re we sittin’ ‘round jawin’ when ah >>ZKKT<< could be vaporizin’ ‘mites?
RAINBOW SLASH: ‘Cuz Nemesparkle told us not to interfere. The attack on the Sequestrium is a diversion to draw those a-hole Torquestianator security forces away from our real target. Flutterstein?
From Flutterstein’s eye-lenses comes an unsettling holographic image! A dank, grime-caked fortress lit by a silvery, sterile light, its spiralling towers and walkways twisting into grotesque shapes which stretch far into the horizon. The scene pulls back, revealing more and more architectural permutations, extending seemingly forever, until the exact nature of the structure is revealed - a solid iron ball suspended in space, Hermite barely visible behind it.
And, horrific as it appears, the real horrors are what’s inside this gargantuan dungeon. For this is none other than Torquestia’s intergalactic detainee camp - THE NIGHTMARE MOON!
RARITTE: Marelin’s Mane! Has Nemesparkle utterly flipped her horn?! Even with all this exquisite firepower, we’ll be torn to ribbons by that ghastly pit’s security forces.
FLUTTERSTEIN: N-normally, yes. But >>UM<< they’re on their way to deal with N-Nemesparkle’s’ attack on the Sequestrium, leaving us f-free to >>UM<< carry out the plan.
JACKIE APPLES: N’ what >>KKZZT<< th’ hay IS th’ plan?
PURITY PIE: Glad you asked, J.A.! Nemesparkle told me to keep it ulra-super-duperty secret until she gave the all-clear. We’re gonna spring Notstradamus from the clink!
RARITTE: Torquestia’s demented aunt?
JACKIE APPLES: Ya mean th’ >>KKKZZKKT<< nutcase what scrabled mah brainwires n’ >>ZZZKKTTT<< made me dee-stroy innasent folks?! Purity, darlin’, tell me th’ plan ends with me >>ZZTTK<< puttin’ a death-beam ‘tween thet ‘mite’s peepin’ holes >>TTTKZZ<<!
FLUTTERSTEIN: Y-yes, it seems to me >>UM<<<rage>BATHING IN A FOUNTAIN OF HER STILL-WARM BLOOD</rage> would bring significant p-peace to the >>UM<< universe.
PURITY PIE: Sorry, girls! We gotta keep that nasty psychopants alive. Nemesparkle said something about “blah blah blah ‘shocking cover-up’ blah blah blah ‘damning secrets’ blah blah blah ‘Purity, for the love of Marelin pay attention to what I’m’ blabbity blah blah.”
RAINBOW SLASH: You heard the mare, ladies. One Hypersonic Rainbeam comin’ up! Bang, zoom, straight to Nightmare Moon!
RARITTE: Wait! Before you do, let me cast a nausea-cancelling spell. Crossdimensional travel is nightmarish on my digestive traaACCKKK!!!
The finicky unicorn’s protests are silenced by the Hypersonic Rainbeam’s eardrum-imploding roar! The five warponies tumble through temporary holes in space-time towards an ominous black iron prison, whose sharp-angled towers cover the whole of the lunar surface … Whose dank holding cells are home to the most dangerous and depraved minds, pony or alien, in the Hermite Empire … Where a forgotten soul sits in the dark, waiting for her chance to utterly destroy the Grand Tyrant and all she holds dear ...
NEXT: WHITE TEA ON THE MOON!
“Hrm.” Celestia said, scanning the comic’s cheap newsprint pages. “Quite amusing.”
“A... amusing?” Mayor Mare sputtered. “Your Highness, this ... periodical ... is borderline treason! Not to mention totally obscene. Have you seen this cover?!” The stately earth pony angrily shook the glossy-covered pamphlet in Celstia’s face to emphasize its hideousness.
The front cover had an angular, chrome-plated logo reading “3000 CE.” A subtitle beneath the logo helpfully informed the reader this was “The Weekly Equestrianthology of Odd Futures.” Besides the main panel, depicting Nemesparkle the Warlock being menaced by a ghoulish multiple-hooved/headed Torquestia, a sidebar advertised other stories running in the issue: Mareshal Law, which featured a leather-clad pegasus ponicemare kicking a mare with a tattered cape and fedora whose grotesque mask read "Mare-Do-Hell"; The Invisibelles, a group of outlandishly stylized spy ponies; and Big Dana, a gargantuan earth pony with a sinister grin whose accompanying caption read “The Ongoing Adventures of the Toughest Mare In Manechester!”
“But don’t worry about a thing, Princess!” Mayor Mare said. “I believe I’ve found one of the parties responsible.” The tan ponitician whistled. “Bring forth the evidence against you, deviant!” The Mayor’s chest welled with civic pride at thought of this treasonous fiend receiving her due comeuppance at the Princess’ hooves.
A grumbling Rainbow Dash flew sluggishly into the room, her movements greatly restricted by cumbersome saddlebags. Each pouch held a greasy cardboard box, overstuffed with copies of 3000 CE. Dash landed clumsily before the throne, comics cascading out of their boxes onto the palace floor.
“I caught this one distributing these foul rags to a newsstand. She claims she doesn’t know who writes, draws, or prints this material. But I believe she knows more than she lets on.” The Mayor casually tapped an upturned box. “Tell me, Ms. Dash, why is there a striking similarity between these boxes and the ones used by a certain Ponyville bakery?”
“Bite my bag, City Hall!” Dash said, gripping her saddlebags and pantomiming the exact way in which The Mare could perform this action. “You can throw me in a cage, but you’ll never make me sing!”
“Enough.” Celestia said. Both ponies instantly fell silent. “Mayor, I just don’t see the problem here. This material is fairly harmless.”
“Fairly... Are- are we reading the same magazine, Your Highness? It’s filled with lewd humor! Senseless violence! Fantastical nonsense!”
“Indeed. In other words, a delightful reading experience.” Celestia turned to the pegasus fidgeting on the palace floor. “May I purchase one of these boxes, Rainbow Dash? I know a few specialty bookshops in Canterlot who’d enjoy this type of material.”
The Mayor gaped at the royal figure above her, her mouth opening and closing aimlessly in a manner which resembled a catfish sucking mud from a river bottom.
“Sure thing, Your Highness!” A boiling swarm of color ping-ponged around the room, gathering the scattered, slightly battered, inventory Dash had brought. Within seconds, all the comics were stacked neatly in their original containers. The thrashing confusion of light and form focused itself back into a messily-maned blue mare. “Didja also want the limited edition bookmark set we give to retailers who order 100 copies?”
“Oooh, Yes please!” Celestia gushed.
Mayor Mare pouted inwardly, miffed that her grand gesture of loyalty to the crown had been thwarted by the crown itself. “B-but Your Highness,” she said, “Aren’t you even curious as to who is running this operation?”
“I think I already know,” the solar princess said, giving both mares the most regal and grand frustrated eye-roll either had ever seen.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
“H-how’d you like the latest - eek!” Fluttershy ducked to avoid a metal-tipped pen zooming past her. “Um, latest Nemesparkle chapter?”
“Exceptional storytelling, Fluttershy!” Princess Luna replied. Delicate, shadowy energy lines stretched from her horn, curling around inkwells, pencils, pens, and other assorted drawing tools. The magic-infused art supplies worked diligently on a dozen or more comic pages in various stages of completion, erasers and stencils buzzing furiously around the chaotic mess suspended in the air above the two ponies’ heads. “It never ceases to amaze me somepony gentle as thou could craft a yarn so brutally ribald.”
“O-oh, it’s pretty easy, actually. I take all the things that s-scare me or make me, um, angry, t-then exaggerate them to a p-point where they’re silly instead of, um, t-terrifying.” The pink-maned mare blushed. “‘Brutal,’ Your Highness? I, um, don’t think m-my writing is that... dark.”
“Thou art too humble, gentle one,” Luna smiled. “Was it not thou, cloaked in thine alias Cordwhinnier Bird, whose hooves penned the terrifying flight of fancy in Thrilling Equestriadventure Monthly which caught mine royal eye?” The story in question (about a nameless pegasi being stalked though a twisted, shadowy forest by a polymorphous blob with the voice of her dead marefriend) radiated enough atmospheric spookiness to give Luna herself nightmares. She’d hired Fluttershy for the project almost immediately. “I would advise to do as thou wilt, dear scribe. Thy lunar princess is more than partial to … dark.”
Occult energy smashed the office doors open with a deafening bang. Fluttershy’s defense instincts shifted into “panic!fearESCAPE” mode, sending her shooting under a table. In the threshold stood The Interequestian Publishing Co-Op’s head editor, frustration lining her face.
“Art thou in good spirits, most illustrious editor?” Luna said.
“Hardly.” Twilight Sparkle grumbled, stomping into the cramped IPC-O publishing headquarters (formerly Fluttershy’s storm cellar). She glared at the ghostly image projecting from her horn. “Rarity, the script doesn’t need another revision. You’ve done five already.”
“But Twilight, dear, surely you must understand,” the translucent outline pleaded. “The Invisibelles is not merely an adventure serial on cheap newsprint, but a grand expression of my artistic genius! Not one panel is to be wasted.”
“Hoof it in by the end of the week or I’M going to finish the bucking thing,” Twilight barked. “I swear to Marelin that this staff is going to meet a deadline, even if I have to write an entire issue myself.”
“ah told ya,” a feeble echo of a voice said. Rarity’s reflection shot an annoyed glance at something outside the projection field. “quitcher procrasternatin’ n’ write th’ durn thing already. ah ain’t missed a deadline yet.”
“Easy for you to say,” Rarity huffed in the voice’s direction. “Your stories are nothing but flatulation jokes and ponies getting into ridiculous hooffights. Not to mention Big Dana is clearly you, in an idealized fictional form.”
“n’ queen mob ain’t?! she’s basic’ly you wearin’ a fancy trenchcoat n’ sunglasses!”
“I go where my muse takes me.”
“uh huh. n’ in this pertic’lar case, yer muse is gettin’ a mite perturbed you’re whinin’’ ‘bout comical book stories ‘stead o’ gettin’ ready fer our dinner date.”
“Hey, what are you-” Rarity’s image started to warble. “Applelachia Jack! Don’t you DARE touch the transmission chrys t llllll” it warned as it faded.
Fluttershy, having stopped shaking long enough to assess there were no threats in the immediate area, stood up. She was about to crawl from under the table when the door banged open again. Fluttershy jerked back in terror, accidentally smashing her head into the table’s underside. Starry butterflies danced in her eyes.
“Twilight!” Rainbow Dash buzzed in excitedly, Pinkie Pie clinging to her back. “I-” Her gaze fell on the crumpled form splayed loosely on the floor. “Er, you alright, Fluttershy?”
“Yes, yes, of course,” Fluttershy waved dazedly. “I promise I’ll go to the synchronized flying meet, mother.”
“She sounds fine to me!” Pinkie said.
“Alright. Aaanyways, guess which awesome salespony got us distribution in Canterlot?” Dash pointed a hoof at herself. “This one!”
“Excellent!” Twilight grinned. She paused, nervousness subtly creeping into her expression. “And, ah, Princess Celestia is okay with-”
“Yup! Told ya she could take a joke.”
“‘Tis true.” Luna nodded, squinting to adjust a detail on a panel border. “My sister and myself inherited our elders’ infamous yen for mischief and tomfoolery.”
“N-NO, M-Mother!” Fluttershy snarled. “I’m never going to be a-a-an air and field star! Stop trying to m-make me into one! I WANT TO BE MY OWN P-P-P-P-PONY!”
The room fell silent for a moment, all eyes turning to the slightly concussed pegasus standing on her hind legs. Her forelegs angrily squeezed at the empty air, trying to strangle an invisible neck.
“Damn,” Dash whistled. “Somepony’s going to make their marerapist very rich.”
Pinkie reached into her bouncy mane, pulling out half-a-dozen crudely bound manuscripts. “Here ya go, Twilight! I transcribed the next batch of Mareshal Law stories.”
“Thanks, Pinkie.” Twilight said, scanning the pages for typos and grammatical errors as soon as they were in her hooves. “I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here to make Rainbow’s notebook chickenscratch gobbledygook into legible Equestrish.”
“Hey!”
“She’s right, Dashie. Sometimes when I hafta squint super-duper-extra-de-exterty hard to read whatcha wrote, my eyes are all like ‘NO, Pinkie! Stop doing this or you’ll need glasses in ten years!’”
Dash smiled coyly. “Fine by me. Mares with glasses are hawt.”
A small blush rose on Pinkie’s cheeks (though it was nearly unnoticeable through her magenta fur). “So, umm, Princess Luna, I wanted to ask you something.”
“I grant thee thy query, fair Pinkamena.”
Pinkie held up a page which showed Nemesparkle fighting her way through an alien landscape whose appearance shifted into constant, varied forms. “How did you learn to make your drawings all detailed and stylish like this?”
Luna winced. “Ah… let us- er, me -merely state I took certain … actions … during my imprisonment that I now regret...”
* * * * * * * * * * * *
(The following is an excerpt from Kevin O’ Neill’s dream journal, dated 09/21/12)
Had the bloody nightmares again. Horsething made of shadows tells me to give it drafting lessons to relieve its boredom or be plunged into eternal darkness. Christ, it was unsettling. Strange thing is, when it happens now, it seems almost like a flashback to a bad dream than the actual thing. Still felt just as drained when I woke up, though. I rang Alan to tell him I’d need a day or two off.
“Bleedin’ ‘ell,” his spliff-roasted throat muscles croaked at me through the line, “That’s the second time this month! This barmy shibboleth is already a half pig in the pope’s robes! But hang on a tic. This’ll give me time to fit in another scene with a bird getting rogered in an uncomfortable way! Good on you, Kev!”
(Apologies to the writers and artists of 2000 AD, past, present, and future)