//------------------------------// // Part 1 - The Criminal // Story: Misfit Six // by Don Quixote //------------------------------// On the day before the Summer Sun Celebration, Ponyville died. Its death was sudden. The grass turned from green to yellow, from yellow to brown. The river stopped flowing and became a muddy ditch. Overhead, blue drained out of the sky, leaving behind an endless expanse of gray. Birds stopped singing. That was what hurt most. My name is Octavia, and I am a classical musician. I live in Ponyville with my friend Vinyl Scratch. She is also a musician, or so she tells me. Vinyl is a disc jockey: a performer who draws upon the infinite marvels of modern technology to produce the loudest, most dreadful noises possible. The day Ponyville died dawned bright and clear. Winter had been wrapped up months before, and trees had burst into extravagant bloom. In every street lay pink and white petals, stirred occasionally into little explosions of color by the breezes of summer. Birds sang. Ponies strolled through town, pausing to sniff the fragrance of flowers and the warm smell of chocolate drifting from Sugarcube Corner, Ponyville’s bakery. As Vinyl and I breakfasted, sunshine pouring through the open window, we discussed the strange catastrophes that had afflicted our town in months past. “At first, Ponyville seemed so innocent, so peaceful,” I observed, pouring tea. “I am amazed at the staggering number of disasters it has suffered.” Vinyl’s mouth was packed with toast, but neither food nor good manners could prevent her from speaking her mind. “Just what I thought,” she mumbled, spraying the table with crumbs. “There have been minor incidents,” I said. (It seemed best to overlook my friend’s disregard for etiquette.) “Consider the parasprite plague and the rampaging Ursa Minor.” Vinyl swallowed. “Don’t forget the time Pinkie Pie made copies of herself.” We both shuddered. “Horrible catastrophes,” I agreed, “but hardly surprising. We are so near the Everfree Forest, the most dangerous place in Equestria, that incidents are inevitable.” Vinyl peered into the coffeepot. “Empty,” she muttered. “Talk about horrible catastrophes.” “What surprises me,” I continued, “is how many wicked lunatics have taken an interest in Ponyville. Nightmare Moon enveloped our town in darkness, a preternatural night she meant never to end. Discord plunged us into a surreal nightmare. The so-called Great and Powerful Trixie used the power of the Alicorn Amulet to become a despot, ruling Ponyville with an iron hoof.” “It’s like Ponyville attracts criminals,” declared Vinyl, still glaring at the coffeepot. I cringed. Without knowing it, Vinyl had touched quite a sensitive nerve. I changed the subject. “Speaking of the Alicorn Amulet, whatever happened to it?” “Zecora took it,” said Vinyl, shrugging. “Maybe she chucked it in a volcano.” I repressed an unladylike desire to giggle. “Vinyl, you have quite an imagination.” “Hey, it happens,” she protested. “Anyway, we were bucking lucky Twilight and her friends were here to challenge Trixie.” “Please mind your language, Vinyl, and do show some respect. Our resident scholar is now Princess Twilight.” Vinyl, still preoccupied with the coffeepot, held it above her head and tipped it over. A solitary drop fell into her open mouth. “Really!” I exclaimed, unable to suppress my indignation. “It is bad enough that you wear sunglasses and those horrid headphones to the table, but this is intolerable. Vinyl, have you no manners at all?” “What are these ‘manners’ you’re talking about?” she inquired. “No, don't tell me. I don’t really want to know. Now then, speaking of our favorite librarian: the whole Twilight-getting-wings-and-becoming-a-Princess thing seemed kinda random at first, but you’ve gotta remember she and her friends are always saving our rumps.” “They have served Ponyville well,” I conceded. “Every time we have faced a disaster, they have succored us.” Vinyl made a face. “That’s kinda harsh. Twilight and her pals haven’t suckered me once. You know who suckered me? Flim and Flam. They suckered us all, those danged con ponies.” Correcting Vinyl is like plowing the sea. I did not even bother trying. “Princess Twilight and her friends have gone to the Crystal Empire this week for the Summer Sun Celebration, have they not?” I asked. Vinyl leaned back in her chair and plopped her hind hooves on the table, rattling the tableware. “Yup,” she said. “So have all the other Princesses. Dang, we’ve got a lot of them. Four? I’ve lost count. Even Mayor Mare is attending the event. That boring brown pony—what’s his name?—Time Turner is filling in as mayor this week.” My friend withdrew her hooves from the table. Her chair crashed to the floor, causing the tableware to shake again as though in fright. “Wait a sec!” she said. “I just had a horrible thought and I’ve gotta share it. What happens if we have any disasters this week? Who’ll look out for Ponyville with the Twilight Sparkle Rescue Team gone?” Were it not beneath my dignity, I would have rolled my eyes. “I am confident Ponyville can survive a few days without its Princess,” I said. “The town survived for generations before Princess Twilight arrived from Canterlot, and… Vinyl, are you listening?” “Not to you,” she murmured, and took off her sunglasses. “Do you hear that, Octy?” I listened for a moment. “I hear nothing.” “That’s just it,” said Vinyl. “The birds. They’ve stopped singing.”