//------------------------------// // Chapter 20 // Story: Spyra // by angelofrombelow //------------------------------// It was if time was standing still. He was too stunned to do anything other than sit, staring straight ahead but looking at nothing. Noteworthy's bug in the library had still been active and he had heard everything. Dr Whooves' confession as to who he really was, the plan he had devised to steal power from Princess Celestia and the fate he had dealt to Twilight. The blue earth pony had been too shocked to move as the story unfolded, but then, what would he have been able to do anyway? He was a disabled stallion, stuck in his wheelchair, while Whooves was a centuries-old remnant of an elder god. Even if he had been able to get there before Twilight had been turned into stone, he would doubtlessly have ended up joining her. His secret basement was a small, cramped space with room only for his desk and the equipment on it. This consisted of a metallic device, about the size of a cake box, which was powered by the magic his cousin Blueblood had imbued it with. There was a series of switches on the front of it, each of which related to one of the bugs he had planted. They all had a light underneath them, which would brighten whenever a bug had recorded activity. Noteworthy could flick between channels and anything they picked up would be played out of a set of speakers – he could listen to events as they happened or after they were recorded. He had tuned in to the library's bug when Valiant Shield voiced his concern about how long everypony was taking to arrive, then listened through as Whooves made his move. Noteworthy shook himself out of his stupor. He was the only pony who knew what was really going on – the fate of Equestria was in his hooves. The other three spies were in the Everfree Forest, so he couldn't contact them. Shining Armour was out for the count and the library could still be under watch by Whooves and his allies. The only option was to speak to Mayor Mare so she could get the word out. Celestia was in danger and there was no time to waste. But a thought struck him before he could begin rolling himself up the ramp out of his basement. Carrot Top. Whooves, under the guise of Fluttershy, had claimed she had gone into the Everfree Forest without Spike, contrary to her orders. That wasn't like her. After their mission briefing, she had helped Noteworthy home then assisted him in putting on his spare pair of metal gloves so he could operate his wheelchair. He had briefly shown her the listening device he had created and then she had gone to her own house, to pick up a few supplies. That had been about half an hour ago. She should have arrived at the library soon after that. The fact she hadn't suggested something had happened to her. His heart beating faster now, he took a quick look at his equipment. The light connected to the bug in Carrot Top's home was shining brightly, indicating that it had picked something up recently. With great trepidation, he flicked the switch to play back what had been recorded. **** Carrot Top trotted away from Noteworthy's home, a good thirty minutes before he would discover the truth about Whooves. Despite her concern for Celestia, she was in generally good spirits. She had faith they would be able to free the princess from the influence of Nightmare Moon, especially as Noteworthy's technology had placed them one step ahead of her. She smiled to herself. Although it was a little bit creepy to think of the stallion spending hours alone in his basement, listening in on other ponies' conversations, she had to admit that he was the hero of the hour. He had surprised her. Her first impression of him had been poor – he had come across as a shallow stallion whose only interests revolved around picking up mares in bars. The past few days in his company had revealed there was much more to him than that. He had a sharp mind, able to invent things that no other pony had thought of. He was fiercely loyal to the princesses. And he was a hero – her little sister Noi would surely be dead if he hadn't selflessly jumped in to save her and taken the brunt of that falling piano. She still couldn't believe anypony would be crazy enough to try to murder a filly in such a manner. He had his faults though – he could be arrogant at times and he didn't seem to know how to behave properly in a relationship. The previous mares he had dated had either been impressed by his bar room boasting or just wanted him for his looks. To find somepony who was interested in him for who he was, for his personality? That appeared to be new to him. It was making things a lot more difficult than Carrot Top would have liked. She was starting to fall for him but his reticence was frustrating her. She was a lady – it was traditionally up to the stallion to make the first move. He liked her too, she knew it, so why couldn't he just tell her so? She tutted to herself as she approached her home. Perhaps Miss Punch would be able to offer her some advice. All thoughts of romance immediately left her mind as she opened the front door. Somepony was already inside, standing close to the entranceway with a wide smile on their face. "Sister?" Carrot Top finally spoke after a few seconds of stunned silence. Noi simply grinned back, the yellow-coated filly seemingly so happy to see her big sister that she wasn't able to respond. The older mare approached her, astonished. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be in Manehattan, where it's safe. I… oh, Noi!" Her joy at seeing her sister overcame her misgivings and she rushed forward to give her a hug. "Noi," she said, "It's wonderful to see you, darling, really it is, but you shouldn't be here. The pony who tried to hurt you is still at large and we're on the verge of going off to face her. You need to go back, dear." "Oh, don't worry about me. I'm fine, really, really fine!" said the smaller pony excitedly, "I couldn't wait any longer. I came here especially for you!" Carrot Top leaned back out of their hug and chuckled at the young mare's enthusiasm. "I suppose it'll be alright. Hopefully this is all going to be over soon anyway," she said. She patted her on the shoulder. "You have to promise that you'll stay here, safe. Your big sister has one last mission to accomplish." Noi nodded eagerly and Carrot Top moved past her, heading towards the main room so she could collect her equipment. She only managed to go a few steps. Something struck her from behind, smashing against her head so hard that her vision momentarily went black. The force of the blow propelled her forward and she fell face-first into the kitchen counter that divided the entrance area from the rest of the house. Gasping from the unexpected pain, her head spinning to the point it made her nauseous, she looked up from her position on the floor to see who had attacked her. "I couldn't wait any longer. I just had to," said Noi, her voice changing. Carrot Top was finding it difficult to focus her vision but she could see the mare was now carrying a weapon – it looked like a baseball bat. "I came here especially to give you what you deserve, what all your kind deserves," said the filly, speaking rapidly in an aggressive tone. "All of you, all of you, for what you did to me. What you made me suffer." Carrot Top's front door suddenly began to shift unnaturally. It folded into itself, much like a rug being rolled up, then disappeared completely, leaving a wall where there had been none. No escape. Noi's body flashed white and began to transform. Her size stayed the same but her colour changed – her yellow coat became a light purple while her mane grew curly, and a darker purple with streaks of white, capped by a baseball cap with a whirligig on top. Her eyes were disturbing to look at – her pupils were not solid. They resembled a whirlpool, constantly swirling like a hypnotist's disc. The effect was eerie. It was impossible to tell what she was looking at and as Carrot Top stared at her, it felt as if her eyes were sucking her in. The filly known as Screwball was breathing in and out heavily and slowly, as if she was trying to control herself. She stood up on her hind legs and raised the baseball bat, ready for a swing. Carrot Top could see it coming but she was powerless to stop it. A smirk of pleasure slowly formed on Screwball's face. There was a rush of motion. The yellow-coated mare was knocked sideways as she was struck against the side of her head. She lay motionless where she fell, in too much pain to move or even think straight. She let out a quiet moan of agony, unable to make a noise any louder. Screwball closed her eyes, breathed in deep, then let out a shaking sigh of relief. "You can't imagine," she said, her eyes still shut. "You can't even begin to imagine how much I've been looking forward to this." Carrot Top turned her head delicately, terrified by the tone of the other pony's voice. It couldn't be described as anything other than sheer delight. The mare could taste blood in her mouth. That last blow had caused her to bite her tongue. "I've been trapped in stone for hundreds of years," Screwball said, "Hundreds, hundreds, hundreds! Couldn't see, couldn't hear, couldn't touch. Just me and my mind, me and my memories." She said the last line in a sing-song voice, swaying back and forth on her hind legs. "Can you imagine what that's like? No, you can't." The filly's tone was almost conversational, as if she was joking with an old friend. "Darkness, darkness. That's all there was. I could sense the ponies around me. Ponies, ponies everywhere, all going about their business. But did any of them stop to speak to me? Did any of them stop to say hello? Take a guess." Carrot Top was too badly injured to do anything but listen. "Nobody did," said Screwball, "Nobody did. And I really don't think that's fair, considering what… considering what…" Her voice suddenly rose to a scream. "Considering what you DID to me!" Carrot Top flinched, the action bringing fresh pain. The swollen flesh around her eye had forced it shut and she was finding it hard to see. She was panicking now, trying to think of a way out of this. In her current state, she wouldn't be able to outrun her attacker. "But now I'm free," said Screwball. "I'm free. I'm free. I'm…" She held a hoof to her face as emotion overcame her. She let out a sob. Seconds later, her grief twisted in on itself and she began to giggle like a naughty child. "Daddy understands. The doctor doesn't understand. He wasn't with us," she said, "It doesn't matter. Soon we'll be together again and all of your kind, all of you scum, you will suffer as we have suffered. I only wish you weren't so fragile. It'll be so hard to stop ourselves from killing you all." Carrot Top's head was beginning to clear. She had no idea what the other pony was rambling about but she knew she had to take action. The filly was too crazy to reason with. The only chance she had was to fight back. She pulled herself upright but Screwball was too quick. There was a rush of motion and the baseball bat connected with the underside of her chin, knocking her up into the air and onto the kitchen counter. Cooking equipment was scattered as the mare's body bounced off the wooden surface and fell onto the floor behind it. "Silly," said Screwball, "Just lie still. It'll be over soon. You should thank me, really. It'll be worse for the others. They'll know what's coming. You're the last one it'll be a surprise for." Carrot Top's breath was coming in gasps, her one good eye watering as she began to realise this was it. The other pony was too fast, too strong. She winced as she felt a stabbing pain in her side. It took her a moment to realise she was lying on something. She could feel the shape of it with her back – its handle, the sharp edge. Screwball slowly began to walk towards her, still on the other side of the counter. She couldn't see her yet. Carrot Top twisted her body round so she could better see what she had fallen on. A kitchen knife. A fragile thread of hope tugged at her heart. One last chance. She gripped the handle with both front hooves and positioned herself so her body blocked any sight of the weapon. Screwball came into the kitchen, levitating the baseball bat in front of her with her magic. She smiled at the sight of the other pony curled up on the floor. The filly stood back up on her hind legs and took hold of the bat again. She could have used her magic to finish her victim off, but she preferred the physical sensation of swinging the weapon and feeling the juddering impact. She lifted the bat above her head, a manic grin on her face as she looked down on Carrot Top. The mare took her moment. With a scream, she forced her body into action and leapt up, thrusting the knife forward. It found its mark. The blade cut into Screwball's forehead as if it was butter, embedding itself up to the hilt. Carrot Top dropped to the floor, the strength going out of her. A sea of sensations washed over her – relief at her safety, pain from her injuries and disgusted horror at the fact she had just committed murder. But it was all overcome by a rush of terror when she realised the filly was still standing. Screwball was motionless for a few moments, the bat raised above her head, her eyes focused on the blade stuck in her skull. Then she dropped the bat and, slowly, deliberately, pulled the knife out of her head. The wound closed up instantly. Carrot Top looked up at her, so stricken with fear that she was barely able to breathe. "Well," said Screwball, her voice a malicious whisper. "That wasn't very nice, was it?" **** Noteworthy had only listened up to the point when Screwball made her first attack. He shut off the audio immediately and started rolling himself up the ramp that led out of his secret basement, desperate to do whatever he could to save the mare he cared about. But in his heart, he knew he was probably already too late. The recording was half an hour old. He fought back the unwanted tears that welled up, making it harder to see, and gritted his teeth as he ferociously turned the wheels of his wheelchair with his metal gloves. He reached the top of the ramp and put his foreleg up to open the door to his basement – a secret panel he had cut into the floor of his main room. A sound stopped him in his tracks. Somepony was knocking urgently at his front door. He froze, one metal glove reaching for the latch on the access panel while the other gripped onto his wheelchair, holding him steady. "Noteworthy?" The voice coming from outside was muffled but it was instantly recognisable. Carrot Top. "Let me in, please. I want to talk with you. I want to be with you. Noteworthy?" A small spark of hope ignited in him but it was snuffed out after only a second's thought. Whoever it was that was outside, it didn't sound like somepony who had recently been attacked. He realised, with unshakeable certainty, that this pony was not Carrot Top. And he knew what that probably meant. Grief hit him hard and mercilessly. He clenched his free hand shut and began to sob, mourning for the mare he cared about as the pony outside continued calling his name. There was another series of knocks, more violent this time, then the pony rattled the door handle in frustration at being locked out. "This is getting annoying, Noteworthy. Don't you want to be with me?" she called, her voice lilting. He gasped as he realised his own safety was at risk, and tried to control his tears as the pony with Carrot Top's voice began hitting the door with more force. There were two more loud knocks, then the clink of metal dropping to the floor. Noteworthy listened intently, unsure as to what the sound was. The answer was simple – Screwball had just used her magic to dismantle the lock. His breath caught in his throat as he heard the sound of the door opening wide and the unknown mare stepping inside his house. There was a slam as she shut the door behind her. "Noteworthy?" she called, "Come on, it's not nice to hide. Come out. I just want to talk." The stallion was finding it difficult to control his breathing, and found himself on the verge of hyperventilating as the other pony walked around on the floor just above his head. Every breath that escaped his lips sounded terrifyingly loud to him. He prayed they wouldn't give away his position. He dared not move – one misplaced creak from his wheelchair could be the end of him. In his crippled state, he was in no position to defend himself. "I'm getting tired of this," called out the other pony, the frustration starting to show in her sing-song tone. Noteworthy could hear her searching the house, trying to find his hiding place. She would give up soon, he hoped. She had to. She couldn't know he was here. The room above fell silent but his pursuer was still up there. Every now and again there was the sound of hoofsteps or a cupboard being opened. He held his breath as he heard the pony walking nearer to where he was hiding, nearer to the panel that opened up to his basement. He could hear hoofsteps approaching until they were right above his head, then they suddenly stopped. Then there was a tap-tap-tapping noise as the mare tested the floor beneath her hooves, checking to see if it was hollow. Noteworthy squeezed his eyes shut. Seconds passed. Relief washed over him as he heard the other pony walk away. He hadn't been discovered. But then another noise caught his attention. It was the sound of something heavy scraping along the floor. He could feel his heart beating in his chest as whatever it was came closer, closer. It stopped just as it reached the panel. There was a moment's silence. An almighty bang nearly deafened him and shook the floor above his head as the thing crashed down. Scarcely daring to breathe, he tried to listen over the rushing of blood in his eardrums to see what the other pony had planned for him. There was nothing at first. He waited a little while longer before he heard the unmistakeable sound of a lock clicking, coming from the direction of his front door. She was gone. Tentatively, Noteworthy tried to open the panel but found he couldn't. It had been blocked shut by whatever it was that had dropped on it. He was trapped. Not even the strength given to him by his metal gloves could shift it, mostly due to the fact his wheelchair didn't afford him any traction. Any force he applied would cause his wheels to spin. He couldn't claw his way through the wood either, because the fingers of his glove were too wide to fit through the floorboards. Besides, there was a risk that if he did that, the weight above would fall through the hole and crush him. A wisp of smoke blew in through a gap between the boards. Noteworthy's pulse quickened as he realised he could hear a crackling sound, coming from the weight on the panel. Fire. Quickly, he pressed his free hand against the blockage again, this time pushing with all his might. His wheelchair fought against his other hand, wheels trying to spin from the force he was exerting. He pushed harder, desperation taking hold, but it was no use. He couldn't get the door to shift an inch. He could hear the flames growing stronger, starting to spread. "No. No no no," he murmured, looking around frantically for something he could use to save himself with. There was nothing. The only equipment he kept down here was his listening device and that only worked one way. He wasn't able to use it to communicate with the outside world. Tightening his grip on his wheelchair, he curled his free hand into a fist and began beating against the panel. After several strong punches, a dent began to form. But he was having difficulty breaking through. The wood was strong – it had to be, if it was to double as flooring – and whatever was pressing down on it was incredibly heavy. The wood started to splinter but it was taking too long. Long tendrils of smoke were now seeping through the cracks and there was no telling how large the fire had grown. How intense it would be by the time he broke out, even if he could. Panic took hold and he began screaming for help, even as he continued battering against the blockade. His muffled calls echoed through his house, fighting against the crackle of the growing blaze. But there was nopony there to hear them.