//------------------------------// // Chapter 7: First Contact // Story: Callsign MANE VI: Twilight // by Col_StaR //------------------------------// Applejack still had that feeling. It never left her. It was the sort of itching dread that Winona must feel when she would bark wildly into the dead of night. It was a rattling in the bones, an echo in the head, and a noose in the gut. Wherever she went, something seemed wrong. And as she drove her truck through the torrential rain, she looked to the rainbow-haired woman beside her and then to the unconscious girl in the back seat. She knew she had walked into something she shouldn’t have. But she had no choice. This was their mission. It wasn’t turning out to be much of a mission, either. She and her team were pulled from their leave for a mission that was of “great importance”. Yet despite such an emergency, the team was never briefed on what was to follow. In addition to being undermanned and underequipped, they were flying blind. All they had to go on was a hand-folded envelope, wax-sealed with a symbol of a blazing sun. The papers inside held little more than breadcrumbs, but apparently it was enough to get them into a heap of trouble. A part of her wished that this was all an elaborate prank by the notorious prankster in the passenger’s seat. Any moment now, she had expected her friend to cry out, “gotcha!” to a guffaw of laughter. But by now, the joke had gone too far to be funny. Applejack’s focus began to slip, and she wondered what her family was doing back home. It was a little after two in the afternoon, but it was dark enough to be midnight. Granny Smith would be napping in her rocker, the wooden creaks matching time with her snores. Big Mac would be sitting by the heat of the cast-iron heater in the living room, using his fancy mathematics to keep the farm in the black (a term the simple cowgirl never quite understood). And Applebloom would certainly be doing her chores and homework, just as her big sister had told her to before she left. But Applejack knew better; there was no telling what her little sister was getting into. Supposed that they were similar in that way. A distant rumble brought the rustic woman back to the present. The storm had worsened as they reached the base of the mountain. Rain battered the haze-covered road, making it slick with an ice-cold shower. The forest boxed them in like a canyon of dead woods and fresh mud. The wind tore entire branches from the trees, testing the mettle of the truck’s suspension as they plowed over them. Flashes of lightning would pierce the fog, but the booming thunder shook them most. Then, something else began shining through the storm. A stalwart flare lay on the side of the road, radiating amber light from its sizzling flame. Her dogs were barking, and they were never wrong. Yet together, the team pressed on through the dark. Applejack pulled the truck aside as the signal drew near, and a building came into sight. The sign on the rounded roof proudly announced it as, “Joe’s Diner”, yet it was clear that Joe and his company had checked out long ago. Paint peeled off the wooden slat walls, and their ends were splintered with age. The windows that were lucky enough to remain unbroken had been covered by boards that had been nailed in years ago. A sign in the window had faded into a relic of the past: the image of a dozen doughnuts, topped with sprinkles, propped beside a steaming mug of hot chocolate. Despite its decrepit status, there was one sign of life inside the abandoned diner: a set of finely-manicured fingers flipped the sign in the window as their car came near; “Open for Business”, the sign now read. The orange truck parked beside a pearl-white Mercedes Benz that practically begged to be out of the rain. Applejack took a moment to embrace the warm cabin air one last time, letting it flow through her nostrils as the car’s engine settled down. The woman next to her did the same, tapping her fingers excitedly against the tops of her well-toned legs. Applejack adjusted the hat on her head as she said, “Alright, Rainbow Dash. Let’s see what Rarity has for us and our guest here. You grab the medkit from the trunk. I’ll grab her.” “I’m on it”, the passenger replied, her mouth creased in a confident smirk. The two shared a nod. Their doors opened in unintentional unison, and the storm rushed to greet them. Striking without warning, the hard wind blew the icy rain against their exposed faces. The two teammates rushed to complete their respective tasks. The athlete moved to the bed of her truck, groaning as she shifted through the crates in the bed of the truck. The cowgirl held her hat as she opened the side door of the truck. Gentling lifting the unconscious girl, she carefully hefted her towards the diner. Applejack took pity upon the young woman. Curled up in her arms, the girl was limp, weak, and unresponsive. Every inch of her pale skin was pockmarked by goosebumps, and every layer of clothing was drenched with water. Droplets of bright red blood wept from the wounds on her arms, streaked down her clammy skin, and trickled off her half-curled fingers. But as the rain showered down upon the both of them, Applejack could swear the girl was awake. For a single fleeting moment, she saw the girl’s eyelids flutter open- revealing a pair of brilliant violet eyes that stared into the ashen skies above- before shutting them once more, as if to reject it all as a bad dream. She couldn't help but sympathize. The blonde woman burst into the diner, opening and closing the door with a kick that rattled the sign off the window. From the evident chill that greeted her, it was clear there was no heat or power in the entire building, probably never had been for years. The amount of light coming through the few remaining windows was barely sufficient: bright enough that she couldn’t justify the use of her flashlight, but dark enough to doubt her own vision. The only thing of she was certain of was the feminine figure standing behind the diner counter, clad in a combat jacket atop her chic designer clothing. The gems of her diamond necklace shimmered around her neck in the ambient darkness. Even if she hadn’t seen the woman, Applejack could have identified her by smell of the perfume alone: roses, lilacs, and not an ounce of practicality. “Rarity,” she said, half-nodding to her friend, “Is this place secure?” “Why, of course it is,” the woman answered, the lushness of her trans-Atlantic accent a marked contrast against the cowgirl’s southern drawl. “I doubt if anyone has been here in years.” “Good. Clear me a space on that there counter.” The fashionable woman nodded, the curls of her hair bouncing as she did so. She initially began moving the items with a decent amount of delicacy, swiftly picking up the ketchup bottles, dusting off the old menus, and meticulously placing them further down the counter. But as Applejack’s arms began to tire, so did her patience; she chose to skip the niceties. The cowgirl woman softly laid the girl’s body atop the diner counter to a chorus of crashing bottles, splattered mustard, and her teammate’s gasped protests. But despite her friend’s brutish behavior, Rarity understood her urgency when she saw the counter slowly pool with warm, red liquid. Upon inspection, she found the series of cuts all over the unconscious girl’s body. Her honeyed voice shook with alarm. “My word, what on earth happened? She has all these cuts- some cleaving straight through her clothes.” Applejack took the moment to quickly look over the wounds herself. Cuts and bruises barely registered as injuries to hardy woman, but the severity and frequency of both on such a frail-looking girl was enough to make her worry. She did her best to keep pressure on the laceration on her arm, pressing her soaking jacket against the open wound. “Can’t say. We found her like that on the road, ‘xact spot where we were told, too. She seemed tired, confused, maybe even lost. When we came up to get her like so, she just up and ran off. Dash was the one who fetched her like this, but she couldn’t have done all this damage even if she wanted to.” “Then torture, perhaps?” “Nah. Even torture would have been cleaner than this. I saw her, she was runnin’-” “Running? Running from what?” “From me, that’s what!” Rainbow Dash strode confidently into the room. She shook her rainbow-colored hair like a shaggy dog, much to Rarity’s chagrin. Even as she was struck by second-hand rain, Applejack remained focused with the girl’s wounds. “Dash, make yourself useful and grab us a roll of bandages from the medkit.” “Sorry, no can do. I checked the whole trunk, but it’s not there. Just a note from your little sis, something about a school presentation a week ago.” The woman cursed her sister under her breath, but she didn’t completely mean it. In her head, she began targeting the true culprits. She cursed the mission that brought them here. She cursed the circumstance that forced them to drive their personal cars. She cursed the people who had done this to the girl. Then she even cursed the girl, as if to be safe from bias. But most of all, she cursed herself for neglecting something so simple. “Here,” Rarity chimed in. The slender woman shed herself of her jacket to reveal a silk-white dress shirt, trim-fitted and custom tailored to suit her luxurious feminine form. Her slender fingers grasping below the seams at the shoulder, she turned her shirt from sleeved to sleeveless with a series of powerful tears. The silk dyed a deep crimson as Rarity applied the makeshift bandages to the most drastic wounds. As she began to tie the bandages down, a part of her wretched at the thought of such fine fabric going to ruin. Stains like those would never come out. Applejack approved of her friend’s ingenuity. “Good thinkin’, but that’s a delaying tactic at best.” She turned to her other teammate. “Why don’t you start lookin’ around this place for medical supplies- medkit, alcohol, rags, anything we can use. The owners may have abandoned this place, but here’s hoping they left something behind.” Dash nodded, giving a little salute as she did so. “You got it, sarge,” she half-sarcastically said. Applejack eyed her friend hard she bolted through the swinging kitchen doors. Rarity had done all she could with how few bandages they had, tying the fabric taut with a tug. It was all they could do now. Wiping her hands free of red, she looked over the looked over to woman standing beside her. She spoke in a whisper as if she were afraid of insulting her patient. “I don’t mean to insult your inquisitive abilities, dear, but just how confident are you that she is… well… her?” The question weighed on Applejack’s chest. Reaching inside the chest pocket of her combat jacket, she pulled out a postcard-sized envelope. The hand-folded paper felt crisp and new when she found it earlier that day, basking in morning sunlight at the top of the stairs; now it was wrinkled, folded, and slightly damp with rain. The golden wax seal had been broken, and the two items inside almost toppled out on their own. The first was a square of paper, approximately the size of a notecard. The note felt old enough to have been part of a scroll. Its edges were frayed and the color had turned coffee-stain brown, but the fine parchment held itself together. A line of bold numbers was written on its surface, standing tall and curved as if hand-written by a quill. The ink had begun to bleed through the page, and the figures seemed to weep with night-black tears. It had taken the team some time to decipher its message, but they soon understood what the numbers meant: a set of coordinates and an appointed time. The card had served its purpose already, and it was shuffled back inside the envelope The second paper was the item in question. It was evidently a school portrait, taken less than a year ago. Applejack pulled a flashlight from a pouch on her vest, and used its light to compare the photograph to the girl in front of her. The likeness was spot-on: the narrow shape of the nose, the soft curves of her mouth, the pink stripe in her hair, the uniform she wore. Yet there were sobering inconsistencies as well. A series of thin cuts marred the girl’s face and lips. Her hair was clumped with mud and tangled by duress, and the pink-dyed streak was hidden beneath a bramble of natural black. From the pleasant smile in the photograph, she was happy back then; now she was cold, hurt, and far from home. All that Applejack needed to see- perhaps wanted to see- was the vibrant color of her sparkling eyes. She shared the picture with her teammate. “It’s her. I’m sure it’s her.” Rarity’s scanned the picture and the person in question. Her discerning eyes, razor sharp from finding loose threads and stray stitches, flickered as they identified every detail. After her own comparison was made, the woman concurred with her friend’s assessment. “Alright then. Have we any idea what we are to do with her?” Applejack groaned as she tucked the items back into her pocket. After removing her leather Stetson hat, running her fingers through her blonde hair brought an ounce of comfort upon her frustrated head. “Your guess is as good as mine. I hate to admit it, but we’re in the dark on this one.” Unable to say any more, she was quick to change the subject. “Did you find anything at the first site?” “Not much more than what you both saw,” Rarity answered, “From the shell casings and blood, it’s obvious that a gunfight of some sort occurred. Though, the lack of bodies tells me that someone must have cleaned up the mess and hoped the storm would do the rest. But the cleaning crew must have been rushed- or sloppy, because I found something peculiar.” She motioned to an item on the far end of the counter. A tablet computer lied idly on the other end of the table. “I reckon this’ll be helpful. Did you get anything off of it?” “Unfortunately not. I’m not sure if it will even turn on.” “What’s wrong?” the blonde woman replied sarcastically, “Can’t find the ‘On’ switch?” “If I couldn’t turn it on, it’s certainly not from lack of trying. Besides weathering the storm this entire time, I’m quite simply sure that it simply doesn’t have such a switch.” “Well, our friend here could probably tell us once she’s awake… assuming she does wake.” “She’ll be fine. I’ve slowed the bleeding on the worst of her wounds. I think it unlikely that she’ll bleed out so soon. But, given our current medical predicament, I fear she’ll succumb to infection or hypothermia before blood loss.” Neither possibility sounded appealing to the rustic woman. But before she could voice her displeasure, a massive crash of weight on metal caught her attention. Both women turned towards the kitchen, past the swinging doors their friend had disappeared through a while ago. Applejack called out. “Dash, what in tarnation are you doing back there?” She expected to hear her friend’s typical reply, a facetious answer dripping in sarcasm that was as rough as the woman herself. Several seconds passed, and no such reply came. Something was wrong. Applejack tried one more time, shouting a little louder than was needed. “Dash! Have you found anything back there?” Her heart beat stronger with every passing second of silence. Rarity nudged her head towards the door. The both of them stepped lightly towards it, their fingers glancing the grip of their respective pistols. Applejack took her flashlight and shined it through the circular window in the center of the door. With every cautious step they took, the ring of light would shudder with dread. Darkened lines exaggerated the door’s imperfect surface, and the shadows that ran across the walls grew larger as the light drew nearer. By the time they were both within reach, not a peep had been uttered from the other side. The blonde woman mustered up the courage to reach out her hand. The tips of her fingers touched the cold metal plate on the door. She gave one last warning before she began to push, “Rainbow. Are you there?” The door emitted a slow groan as it was pushed, followed by a sudden screech as it burst open backwards. Something charged through the entryway, slamming the wooden fixture flatly against Applejack’s face. The force of the impact paired with the shock of the surprise sent her falling backwards to the floor. Rarity’s nerves jolted as she saw it occur. Her reaction was to reach into her holster, but she was stunned when another bright light began to scorch her irises. She came face to face with a blinding light, connected to a pistol aimed squarely at her head. Two male figures stood in front of them, their booming voices filling the air as they shouted over each other. “Hands up!” one would say. “Put your damn hands up!” the other would add. “Don’t do anything stupid.” “We will fire if you do not submit.” Applejack reeled on the dust-ridden ground, her head throbbing with its second impact with the ground on that day alone; her hat never provided much protection from anything other than the weather. The tac-light on each of the men’s’ pistols forced her to shield her eyes from the blinding beam, a move which the men equated with surrendering. In between the shouts, Rainbow Dash’s raspy voice hurled insults like bullets to her captors. As loudly as the men barked, Rarity only gave into their demands when she saw her friend raise her hands first. As luck would have it, Applejack’s flashlight landed on the counter at that moment. Bouncing end to end on the dusty table, the light illuminated the hostile men. For the few crucial moments, she could see them clearly. Two men, well-built. One younger, one older. Nobel-grey suit jacket and an ivory-white under-shirt. Both were drenched in rain, caked in dirt, and smelled like the storm from outside. Visible cuts on both their bodies- the older one more so than the younger- but they were in better condition than the girl on the table. The older one held Rainbow Dash captive, tightening his burly arm around her neck; despite the disadvantage, Dash kicked and hollered like the stubborn mule she was. The flashlight then rolled off the table and into the lap of its owner, returning the hostile men to the veil of darkness. The older man sensed victory as both women raised their hands. Holding his human shield in one hand, he held his pistol in the other. Keeping the beam of the tac-light squarely in her eyes, he forcibly shouted, “Why did your unit attack us?” Rarity was taken aback by the question. Struggling to maintain her ladylike composure, she stifled out a response. “I… I beg your pardon?” The man repeated the question with the same forceful intent. “Why did your unit attack us? What is your objective?” The woman’s azure eyes were wide with shock despite the bombardment of light on her retinas. She struggled to gesture her confusion while keeping her arms raised. “I’m… I’m dreadfully sorry, but I don’t know understand what you speak of. We haven’t attacked anyone-“ Rainbow Dash was quick to add, “But we’ll kick your sorry asses to the curb if you even think about-“ “Captain,” the younger guard interrupted. He kept his flashlight squarely on Applejack, his aim steady despite his excited nerves. “This one’s got gear on her. Vest, holster, radio- maybe more in the cars we saw too. But she doesn’t look like the unit that attacked us, either.” “How certain are you of that, Armor?” “Very, sir. Here, see for yourself.” The younger guardsman took an imposing step closer towards Applejack. His pistol still trained on her, he motioned for her to get up. Applejack could feel her heart racing in her throat as she complied with the order. Slowly took to her feet, she clasped her hands on top of her hat. She felt naked as the heated gaze of the young man’s tac-lights shined over her. The older man was content with his subordinate’s appraisal, but he wasn’t done with them yet. Keeping his gun trained on Rarity, he turned his head towards the combat-clad woman. “You. What is your unit?” “Jack, don’t tell them a damn-“ Dash’s warning was cut off by the tightening arm around her throat. The stifled gurgling that bubbled from her friend’s throat made Applejack’s throat clench with fear. The man barked his question once again. Amid Rarity’s whispered warnings to stay silent, the blonde woman did what she felt was necessary. “MANE 3,” she admitted to the confident tune of absolute certainty. Both of her teammates silently cursed the woman’s irrevocable honesty. The gruff man eyed her suspiciously. “I’ve never heard of such a unit.” She shrugged with a sly little grin. “Then I guess that’s a good thing.” The captain motioned to his partner towards her. The younger man cautiously approached, snaking his free hand into her holster and freeing the pistol inside. An M1911A1 hung in his hands before being tossed aside, a move that earned him a disapproving glare from its owner. As the man searched her for weapons, the older man continued with the questions. “How many people are in your unit?” “Just us three.” Applejack thumbed to her cohorts, her hands still raised. “That’s Rarity over there. The feisty one in your arms is Rainbow Dash. And then there’s me.” “Who do you work for?” Rarity cut in before her friend admitted anything further. She took a step forward, a move that earned a threatening shake of the man’s pistol. “No one,” she answered sweetly. Her words were annunciated delicately, tuned with practice to sound perfectly innocent. “We don’t work for anyone,” she lied again. The younger guard muttered the term “mercenaries” with the same voice he’d use to describe a rash or infestation. Despite such a negative reaction, Rarity hid her satisfaction for the successful deception. The older man continued, “Then why are you here?” “Why…” Rarity’s thoughts mulled over for a fitting lie. ”We’re here for-“ “Rescue mission.” Applejack’s curt bluntness caught both guards’ attention. Both Rarity and Rainbow Dash groaned, as the ploy seemed to have been working. “And what is your target?” A silence stirred between both groups. Applejack’s tongue receded into her throat, perhaps a few sentences too late. She felt her friends staring at her in anticipation. Rarity, still wide eyed and breathing stable, shook her head ever so slightly. Rainbow Dash’s restrained movements were jerky and erratic, but she shook her head as well. The consensus was obvious, but Applejack couldn’t agree. As if God had opened her mind and swept away the suspicions and fear, the alarm in her head had utterly ceased. Something compelled her to trust the men behind the guns. She couldn’t deny how she felt. Perhaps that’s why she confessed what she did. Perhaps she put her faith in fate one more time. Applejack’s left hand slowly moved from her head. As the storm rumbled beyond the decrepit walls around them, she pointed to the counter at the center of the room. “Her.” The young man stood up to investigate while the captain balanced his aim between Applejack and Rarity. Bringing his flashlight over the table, what the young man saw made the disciplined guardsman gasp. “Captain Light!” he yelled anxiously, “It’s Twilight, sir.” “What?” The whites of the older man’s eyes could be seen expanding in the dark. He saw the figure of the young girl there, lying motionless like a corpse on a funeral slab. His gut wretched to his boots as the reality sank in. “Oh sweet Cell-“ The man stood beside the unconscious girl, scanning her body with his tac-light. His shaking fingers pressed against her jugular artery, checking for a pulse. “Pulse is weak, sir. She’s alive, but unconscious. She might be wounded- I’m seeing some blood-” The surrealism of the moment washed away. Alarmed, Captain Light immediately asserted control of the situation. “Knight Armor,” he ordered, “get these people away from her.” Shining Armor shook Twilight’s shoulders as softly as his adrenaline-filled veins would allow him. “Twilight?” he said, standing over her empty face, “Twilight, wake up!” Rarity was captivated by the turn of events, and was left stunned in her shoes despite the older man’s orders to move away. “Move!” he ordered once more. Light pulled the hammer of his HK45 back with his thumb, the sights of the pistol aimed squarely between the woman’s eyes. The menacing man spoke in little more than a threatening growl. “Even if you’re as innocent as you claim to be- I will not hesitate to kill you. Now get away from her.” Rarity thoughtlessly complied, quickly shuffling from behind the counter to Applejack’s side. Captain Light’s vindictive expression never wavered, and neither did his aim. The younger guardsman cradled the girl’s head in his arms. Her ghostly-pale skin felt cold to the touch. “Twilight? Come on, wake up!” “Armor, pick her up. We’re not leaving without her.” The older man kept aim on the two women while maintaining his hold on the stubborn athlete. Despite Rainbow Dash’s physical protests, Captain Light made his way towards Twilight’s side, opposite the counter. He turned his head as Shining Armor’s tac-light shined over her wounds, some still weeping red. Anger and sickness welled within him. “What did they do to you?” Over the commotion, Rarity proclaimed her innocence, “We didn’t do anything!” “She was injured when she came to us,” Applejack added, “This ain’t our fau-“ The captain’s gun went off, the gunshot ringing high in everyone’s ears. Both women flinched as the round embedded itself into the wall behind them. “That’s enough out of you two!” the man said, his mind scorching with desperation. As the kinetic force of the recoil rippled through the man’s body, Rainbow Dash felt a moment of weakness in the arm around her throat. It was her opportunity, and she took it. In a flash, she heaved her body weight forward and then forced it all backwards. The momentum of her head smacked into the captain’s jaw. Caught offguard by the sudden blow, the man loosened his grip, allowing the skinny woman to slip away. Grappling the pistol in her left hand and punching his arm with her right, Rainbow Dash threw him off balance. And with one final move, she twisted the pistol out of his grip and into her own. The younger guardsman turned to respond, but he found himself pummeled by Applejack’s large frame. She knocked him to the floor, leaving him on his back as she dove over him. The faint form of her pistol lay on the floor a few feet away from her, and she scrambled to reach it. But as Armor saw her intentions, he reached out to grab onto whatever would take. His grip found a loop on her vest. Applejack could barely reach the grip of her gun before being pulled back by her opponent. The man tried to bring his pistol to bear, but the woman wrestled to hold his hand down. The two snarled like savage dogs as they fought for control of the gun, glaring into the ferocity of their opponent’s eyes. As the struggle dragged on, it became clear that neither side was willing to back down. Shining Armor broke the stalemate, pulling his fist back and delivering a solid left hook. The blow to the jaw knocked the cowgirl back momentarily, but she returned the punch in kind. As Shining Armor reeled from the punch, Applejack then dove for her pistol once more, grabbing its form and quickly aiming it downrange. The knight reacted just as quickly, rolling onto his gun and lining up the sights. The guardsman’s finger was firm against the trigger. The glowing dots on his pistol’s tritium sights were lined up against the woman’s form, and at such a short distance he couldn’t miss. Despite also having him in her sights, Applejack seized when the moment came. Part of her braced for the bullet; another part told her to pull the trigger and be done with it. But another part said to wait a moment. Something wasn’t right. And after a long second passed without the act of gunfire, she realized which part of her was correct. Shining Armor slowly let the trigger reset as he drew his finger out of the trigger-guard. Obeying the metallic nudge at the back of his head, he slowly raised his hands. Rarity’s slender fingers wrapped contently around her the grip of her revolver. She prodded him once more with the front of her gun, the front sight combing through his short hair. “Good boy. You’ve made a wise choice,” she said, drawing circles on the man’s scalp with the barrel of her gun, “One gun against three are not odds in your favor.” A sigh of relief escaped Applejack’s lips. As she got to her feet, she brushed herself off and searched for the others. Rainbow Dash had turned the tables on her captor, and was holding the surrendering captain at gunpoint. Rarity disarmed the younger man, tossing his gun onto the counter before patting him down. Applejack pressed her wrist gingerly against her sore jaw; the young man would probably do the same thing, had he a free hand to do so. Even with his head hung low, Shining Armor could feel the blonde woman approaching, the heavy sound of her footsteps following in her wake. He stared at the tan-colored boots as they stopped in front of him. As his gaze dragged upwards, his vision fixed on her pistol. The blued carbon steel of the Colt pistol shimmered in the ambient light like the anticipating fang of an angry wolf. And she stayed there, a blackened specter standing over him, weapon in hand. When he saw the pistol move, his racing heart skipped a beat and then several more. His eyelids snapped shut like traps. He grit his teeth. And he waited for the deafening bang. Then moment of pain. And the final end of all things. Time itself seemed to slow as Shining Armor steeled himself for what he was sure to come. It came as a surprise to him, then, when none of that came. Applejack’s southern drawl had fallen deep and serious. Despite talking directly to the kneeling guardsman in front of her, she spoke loud enough for his superior to hear. “Now, I don’t know who y’all are or who you work for-, nor why you’re even here. But from where I’m standing, I don’t think it matters. I don’t need any more friends than I already have, but neither of us needs any more enemies.” She holstered her pistol. The tension in the room began to evaporate. The familiar sound of metal on fabric drew Shining Armor’s attention. Opening his shuddering eyes, he was met with an outstretched hand. Applejack offered to get him to his feet. The young Knight hesitantly accepted her offer. “Fair enough,” he said as he regained his footing. A satisfied grin crept onto the woman’s lips as she replied, “Good. I reckon that we’re all here for the same reason, anyways.” However, as she turned towards the unconscious Twilight, her expression turned thoughtful. “All things aside, we answered all of your questions. Maybe you can start by answering some of ours.”