//------------------------------//
// Great and Powerful (a) 
// Story: The Majestic Tale (of a Mad-Pony in a Box) 
// by R5h 
//------------------------------//

	The secret to properly waking up, as Octavia had long since discovered, was to place her alarm at a great distance from her bedside, so that she would be forced to leave her bed to turn it off. So it was that at the unripened hour of 4:30 on Saturday morning, she awoke to an incredibly annoying ringing, yawned, stood, and crossed the room to slam her clock's off button. She dragged herself to the bathroom and took her morning shower with her usual brevity, then dried herself and put on her favorite bowtie; it was, after all, a special occasion. She double-checked the luggage, ensuring that everything they needed was present. Upon confirming that it was, there was only one step left in her morning routine: waking up Vinyl.

Vinyl had her own secret to waking up: let Octavia handle it. Indeed, this had become Vinyl's go-to solution for many of life's problems in the past two months, from 'What do I do with these dirty clothes?' to 'How will I get my three meals a day?' Octavia didn't like to consider the possibility that these questions had simply gone unanswered before her arrival—nor did she like the fact that she'd become Vinyl's homemaker. I might as well get a maid outfit while I'm at it. Vinyl would love that.

Then again, most of the time she didn't mind it as such. It was a way to pay back what she saw—and what Vinyl refused to see—as her debt for being allowed to stay at Vinyl's flat in Ponyville. For being dragged into Vinyl's life in the first place, in fact.

Of course, at this time of the morning, such feelings of gratitude were easily eclipsed by others, such as a general grumpiness—or a very specific disquiet at what exactly Vinyl was saying in her sleep.

“Ohhhh, yeah baby. That really hits the spot,” she heard Vinyl mumble as she entered the bedroom.

Why do I put up with her again? Octavia asked herself, regarding her sleeping friend. She readied her weapon.

“Harder, Octy. Harder, harder—OOF!” Vinyl's dream was interrupted by a very forceful pillow to the face. She blearily looked up at Octavia. “Awwww, was it something I said?”

“In fact, yes. You said... what was it?” Octavia pretended to ponder, then smirked. “'Harder, Octy, harder.' Who am I to refuse? Now come on, get up. It's almost five o'clock.” Vinyl groaned as Octavia turned the light on, illuminating a room filled with its usual scattering of music- and bed-sheets.

Vinyl was briefly bewildered by the logic of getting up at 'almost five o'clock', but eventually understood, after a fashion. “Oh right, you've got that thing at that, um, place....”

“That concert,” Octavia corrected, “where we're performing together in Fillydelphia.” She adjusted her bowtie. “Now come on, the train leaves in about 20 minutes.”

Muttering something unintelligible—quite possibly unprintable—under her breath, Vinyl rolled out of bed and pulled her purple goggles from beneath a stack of turntable blueprints. “All right, I'm ready.”

“You aren't even going to comb your mane?”

“Nope.”

“Or brush your tail?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“But you're going to be performing, what about your—” Octavia facehoofed. “Why am I even asking these questions?”

Vinyl grinned widely. “Now that's a good question! Come on, let's go.” She trotted out of her bedroom, all traces of sleepiness gone. Octavia followed, smiling in spite of herself. Nopony got under her skin quite like Vinyl Scratch.





“So, sweetie, looking forward to some nice private time in Fillydelphia?” Vinyl said, still wearing that same excited grin even as the two mares approached Ponyville's train station. The train was there already, huffing and puffing in preparation for departure. Octavia felt like huffing and puffing too—her saddlebags were heavy, and her filled cello case was no featherweight either. “Just you and me, in the city of... uh, some kind of love or other, I'm told.”

“Private... oh!” A smile came to Octavia's lips as she remembered something. “I've been meaning to tell you that it's not going to be just you and me on this trip. We've got a guest who just begged to come.”

Octavia knew that Vinyl was a bit surprised and disappointed, but she managed to cover it up by acting extremely surprised and disappointed. “Our special weekend together! How could you!?”

“Oh, knock it off,” Octavia replied, giving her friend a little shove. “It's somepony you like, anyway.”

A pause followed, as Vinyl thought long and hard about this. Finally: “I got nothing.”

Octavia sighed and pointed to their guest, standing a good ways away on the platform: a familiar stallion in a suit and tie.

“Hello there!” the Doctor called with a wave. Vinyl stopped grinning and shot a questioning look at Octavia.

“I happened to meet him on the street yesterday and mentioned the concert, and ten minutes later he had his own ticket.” She raised an eyebrow. “Come on, you do like him.”

“Well, we did form an ad hoc Elements of Harmony team and zap Discord with the magic of our friendship... but that was just the one time!” Vinyl groaned. “Why does he even want to come, anyway? Isn't he busy building his time machine?”

“Well, technically TARDISes aren't really supposed to be built; they're grown,” the Doctor replied, having trotted over to them. “Hello Vinyl, hello Octavia! Come on, we're going to miss the train.” The trio stepped up into their car. “And yes, I have been, but I guess I'm not used to this lifestyle.”

“What do you mean by 'this lifestyle'?” Octavia asked, as they took their seats on the train—she next to Vinyl, and the Doctor opposite them. He leaned toward them and looked into their eyes as the train wheezed its way to life, belching smoke into the air above.

“Imagine you had a wonderful magic box that could take you anywhere, anytime. The whole of the universe, every single centi-second that has happened or will happen, all within your grasp....” He groaned, turning his head to the sky. “And then you get stuck on one tiny planet for two whole months! Building the TARDIS, buying food—doing, well, work! I'm losing my mind in this teensy little town!” He looked down to see an annoyed glare from Octavia. “That was rude, wasn't it. Sorry.”

Octavia was mollified, but she had a question for him. “Don't you still have your TARDIS? I mean, we rode in it before, and just because you're building the new one... I mean, the same one... doesn't mean you can't use the old one. The same one, but older, I mean,” she clarified, and smiled at her awkward phrasing. “This language was not made for time travel.”

“You should learn Old High Gallifreyan, it's got something like fourteen tenses,” the Doctor replied, smiling in the same way. “But yeah, while I'm helping the TARDIS grow I can't have the finished one in the same time frame, so I've set her one second out of sync. She's always precisely one second in our future.” Octavia tried to untangle the logic of that sentence, but found it a losing battle.

The Doctor must have noticed the confused look on her face, and continued, “It makes sense if you don't think too hard about it. Point is, TARDISes are big complicated wibbly space time things, and having two of the same one in such close spacial proximity and within the same temporal reference frame could cause all the matter in, oh, a 19.3308 kilometer spherical radius to vanish. Now, normally they have automatic paradox dampening fields to prevent things like that, but while she's growing she won't have that field, and I'm not going to take any chances. Got that?”

Vinyl did not 'get that', as evidenced by her five seconds of blank staring at the Doctor. “Laypony's terms?” she beseeched, turning to Octavia.

Octavia explained. “In laypony's terms: Magic box plus incomplete magic box equals time paradox equals big boom.” Vinyl nodded happily.

“Of course,” the Doctor continued, “this means I have to take things a bit slower, but I can still enjoy a good vacation now and then! And here we are,” he concluded, looking happily out the window at the passing scenery. “It's nice around here, isn't it? Love what you ponies do with the weather: never rains if you don't want it to, winter shows up on time and always properly—you don't ever get just two inches of snow around here, do you? And it's never just the ash from a wrecked spaceship either.”

“Um. Is that often a problem for you?” Vinyl asked.

“More than I'd like, yeah. You see...” The Doctor paused, recollecting memories. “So on Earth—that planet I was fond of—there was this famous, infamous ship called the Titanic. Famous for being unsinkable, and infamous for proceeding to do just that. But then this alien cruise line company decided to do an Earth-themed trip, and guess what they named the ship?”

And so they bantered, and told stories. Before too long, they were arriving in Fillydelphia.





Somepony else was arriving too, but by hoof, and pulling a large, heavy, wooden cart behind her. The unicorn's head hung low as she passed a “Welcome to Beautiful Fillydelphia!” sign. As if Fillydelphia will be any different than anywhere else. She sighed. Still, it's not as if I have a choice. The show must go on...

Before too long, she had her cart set up in a fairly large, open area. Good. More room for ponies to mock me—no, I can't let myself think like that. She put on a brave face and started putting up posters.





“Well, our concert's due to happen tomorrow evening,” said Octavia, flipping through a brochure in their hotel's lobby. “So we actually have a lot of free time. What do we want to do?”

“Wait, you're telling me I didn't have to get up before five o'clock?” said Vinyl, in seeming despair. “Oh, the equinity!”

“Does she always do that?” asked the Doctor, trotting towards the pair. “The melodrama, I mean?”

“When I can get away with it,” Vinyl replied cheerfully. “Where were you?”

“Oh, looking around. And I think I found something we can do.” He pulled a poster from his pocket and held it up. It depicted a blue unicorn wearing an outlandish purple hat and robe, with big red text that read: 'COME ONE, COME ALL! WITNESS THE MAGIC OF THE GREAT AND POWERFUL TRIXIE!'

“Let's go see a magic show!” He grinned. “Oh, this'll be fun.”





The Majestic Tale (of a Mad-Pony in a Box)
S1E3: Great and Powerful
Written by R5h






If the Fillydelphia town square had been a fish, the Doctor might have declared it 'stuffed to the gills'. However, it was the center of the city, with many main streets and side streets branching off of it—and it was stuffed to those instead, until the cool evening air became warm and stifling. Various entertainers were making their respective livings as the hour approached eight, from living statues to jugglers to mimes, and each drew their own respectable crowds—but the gathering in front of The Great and Powerful Trixie's cart-cum-stage was the largest. Must be she's famous around here, the Doctor supposed, sitting with his little group further back in that crowd than he'd have liked—they had arrived a bit late.

A mean-hearted giggling glanced his ear. He turned to its source and saw a red earth mare sitting next to a bucket of tomatoes. The ponies around her seemed at best unaware of this preemptive rudeness: at worst they were buying tomatoes off the mare for two bits each. Perhaps 'infamous' would be a better description.

“Vinyl,” he asked, frowning, “have you ever heard of 'The Great and Powerful Trixie'?”

“Maybe?” Unusually for her, she was also frowning, as if trying to concentrate very hard—another rarity. “I've been trying to remember where I've heard that before all day... I'll get it eventually. Urgh!”

“You, Octavia?”

“Never in my life. But I do have a question for you, Doctor.” She paused for permission, and he nodded to signal that she should continue. “Why were you so interested in coming here in the first place? Not that I mind,” she quickly added, “but what is so fascinating about a magic show?”

“I could ask you the same question.” She raised an eyebrow, so he began to elaborate with a gesture to Vinyl. “I mean, take Vinyl here.”

“What about me?” Vinyl interjected.

“You're a unicorn. You can do actual magic.”

“Duh. So?”

“So, Vinyl, Octavia, here's the million-bit question: what's the point of a magic show in a world with real magic?”

“Ohhh, okay. Well, the thing is, Doctor, even I with my awesome magical powers can't do everything.” Octavia rolled her eyes, but the Doctor saw her clamp the corners of her lips down to keep the smile from showing. “Same for every unicorn. I mean, you didn't think magic could do everything, did you? Sheesh!”

“All right, what can't it do?”

“Loads of things. Can't bring ponies back to life... I read somewhere that magic can't create a 'soul', whatever that means... oh, and it's really hard to do magic from a big distance.” Vinyl paused, contemplated a bit more, then shrugged. “Okay, maybe that's not loads of things, but the point is that a stage magician's job is to pretend to do things that are impossible. What, how'd stage magic work in your world, Doctor?” Somewhere in Fillydelphia, a clock began ringing out the eighth hour.

“Well, come to think of it, roughly the same—”

“COME ONE, COME ALL! WITNESS THE AMAZING MAGIC OF THE GRRREAT AND POWERFUL TRRRIXIE!”

“Sssshhh, it's starting!” One of Vinyl's hooves waved frantically in front of the Doctor's and Octavia's faces; the other pointed at the cart, as if they hadn't noticed the clockwork transformation it was undergoing. The front wall dropped to horizontal to become the stage, revealing navy blue curtains behind. Wooden flaps folded out on either side, doubling the stage's size. The cart's side walls and roof cranked open to present horns on the sides, and a panoply of stars and planets above.

POOF! A cloud of smoke exploded onto the stage, and a silhouette appeared in the smoke. There, as the smoke cleared, stood a blue unicorn in a star studded hat and cape who could only be The Great and Powerful Trixie.





Trixie waited for some reaction to her grand appearance, and heard one pony give an appreciative whistle. Just one. No one else oohed, or stomped, or clapped. Just muttering, and a hint of laughter. It's going to be another short night. She soldiered on regardless.

“Watch in awe, as The Great and Powerful Trixie performs the most spectacular feats of magic ever witnessed by pony eyes!” More fireworks erupted from her cart, exploding impressively in the air. A tomato flew out of the crowd and exploded less impressively against her purple hat, covering its stars and glitter with red paste.

Trixie's temper flared, and she looked angrily into the audience. “WHAT?” she bellowed, in her most imposing voice. “Who DARES to challenge the might of Trixie?”

“I do!” An orange coated, red-maned earth pony stood up, next to a big bucket full of tomatoes. “I dare to challenge the 'might' of the Grrrrrating and Pitiful Trrrrrixie.” The crowd laughed at her imitation of Trixie's trills.

“Well then, is there anything you can do that Trixie cannot?” asked Trixie, trying to sound as scornful as possible. “Have you, like Trixie, vanquished the great Ursa Major?”

The earth pony laughed and lobbed another tomato into her face. “Ursa Major? You can't even vanquish a piece of fruit!” she jeered, barely audible over the roaring crowd and barely visible as Trixie tried to wipe tomato paste from her eyes. “There's plenty more where that came from, lady.”

“How—how dare you!” Trixie yelled. She threw as much authority into her voice as she could manage, but it wasn't working. “Trixie will not stand for this!” The earth pony grabbed another tomato and cocked her foreleg back.

Only to be interrupted when a lone blue firework burst from the stage. It flew high into the air, whistling very loudly in the sudden hush as all eyes followed it. The firework seemed to hang at the top of its trajectory for a moment, then fell down toward the back of the crowd, where it exploded in a burst of brilliant blue. The whole crowd gasped and screamed, except for the stallion directly below the blast—a brown earth pony wearing a blue suit and tie, and squeezing a strange metal rod with his mouth.

After the gasps and the screams, there was silence again. Trixie could have heard a tomato drop—and did, as it slipped off the hoof of the stunned heckler. All eyes were on the brown stallion, who dropped the metal wand and started talking.

“Excuse me, but I came here for a magic show, not the climax of Carrie!” To Trixie, he sounded like he might have been from somewhere around Trottingham. His tone was exasperated, but surprisingly casual considering he'd apparently set off a firework feet from his head to prove a point. “… no, I suppose you won't get that, will you—in any case, why don't we all just calm down a bit!” He walked over to the tomato-thrower. “Hello, miss—what's your name?”

“Missy Mater.” All eyes were now on the stallion and Missy Mater, even among the square's other performers and audiences. In the distance, Trixie saw a living statue pony surreptitiously lean in closer.

“Well then, Mater,” continued the brown earth pony, “why are you throwing to'maters' at this magician? Is she malevolent? Evil? Some sort of mean green space creature disguised as a pony, who can only be defeated with a good salad?”

“Space creature—what?” Missy stammered.

The brown pony grinned. “It's more likely than you think. But, fact is, you don't seem to have a very good reason for humiliating this mare in front of an entire city. So why don't you stop.” The casual disappeared, and a hint of a threat entered his words. He looked up at the crowd, no longer grinning. “And that goes for all of you lot—it's not funny, it's cruel and it's shameful. Give The Great and Powerful Trixie a chance to put on a show. And I'll be taking that,” he concluded, and picked up the bucket of tomatoes with his mouth, carrying it back to his spot next to a white, goggles-wearing unicorn and a gray earth pony. Missy Mater did not protest, stunned as she was by his audacity.

The rest of the crowd was no less stunned, but Trixie was much more so. Not so much because he could control her fireworks, or at his bizarre sort of charisma, but at the fact that this total stranger had used both of these tricks to stick up for her. Unfortunately, she was too busy being stunned to continue her show.

A few seconds later, he called impatiently to her. “Well, come on then! Put on the show! Give us the ol' razzle dazzle!”

“Razzle dazzle!” repeated the white unicorn, stomping on the ground with each word. “Razzle dazzle! Razzle dazzle!” And as she continued, everypony else started to join in, until the same crowd that had been jeering at her not two minutes earlier was demanding that she perform. “Razzle dazzle! Razzle dazzle! Razzle dazzle!”

Well, is Trixie going to sit here in shock, or is Trixie going to perform the most spectacular feats of magic ever witnessed by pony eyes? She narrowed her eyes and silenced the audience with a dramatic wave of her hoof. “Very well!” she bellowed, without a trace of fright in her voice. “Not even The Grrrreat and Powerful Trrrrixie can refuse such a call!” The fireworks flew, the crowd cheered, and Trixie found to her surprise that she felt like herself again. And it felt good.

For thirty long minutes she held the crowd captivated with death-defying stunts, impossible conjurations—even for a unicorn—and pure showmanship. They oohed, ahhed, gasped, and roared at her command. They looked in exactly the wrong place at the right time, at her direction. It had been months since she'd had such a wonderful show, and when she passed around a money-collecting basket at intermission, it came back overflowing.

She managed to keep her composure until she'd made it backstage. Then, keeping her sobs quiet, she sat down and let the happy tears flow. For the first time in what seemed like ages, she'd made it through at least half of the show.

The door in the back of the cart opened, and the brown stallion stuck his head in. “Oh hello again—ah,” he said, as he noticed her crying. “Sorry, is this a bad time? Are you OK?”

Quick as a flash, Trixie dashed to the door and slammed it shut with her body; he just barely removed his head in time. Nopony, no how, was going to see her crying. “None may simply enter the enclave of the Great and Powerful Trixie!” she stammered. Her body was braced against the door, preventing further entry.

“Oh come on, Trix, it's OK,” called a second voice from behind the door—she recognized the voice of the unicorn who had started the chant. “We won't reveal that you were crying backstage, and certainly not to everypony!”

“Vinyl!” came a third voice—also female, but more refined and exasperated. Trixie guessed that this was the earth pony that had been sitting with the other two.

“I just said I wouldn't tell it to everypony!” Vinyl responded.

“Yes. Sarcastically,” the third voice replied.

“Octy, when am I ever—”

“Shushushushush, I'm trying to talk here!” interrupted the stallion. He spoke again, in a much gentler tone. “Trixie, is everything all right? Can we talk?”

Trixie sniffed, still holding the door shut. “Actually, Trixie is fine. And Trixie would like to thank you—” She caught herself. I must sound ridiculous, speaking in third person like that. “I would like to thank you for what you did.”

“Not a problem, that crowd was being rotten to you. I'm the Doctor, by the way.”

“Doctor who?”

“Oh, don't bother trying to get anything else out of him,” said 'Octy'. “He probably forgot his real name five centuries ago or something.” Trixie wasn't sure how to respond to that, but she supposed the mare was joking.

“Well, thank you again, Doctor,” she finally said. “Nopony's let me throw a show like that for months.”

“You're welcome,” he replied. “Can I come in now?”

Trixie wiped the tears from her face, then stepped away from the door. “Yes, you—”

“Whoaoaoaoaoaoa-ow!” Vinyl fell through the door and flat on her face.

“And that's why we don't lean on doors. Isn't it, Vinyl?” 'Octy' said smugly, walking into the room. She turned to Trixie. “I'm Octavia, and this is Vinyl Scratch. And, once more, that's the Doctor,” she concluded, as the brown stallion trotted in, holding the bucket of tomatoes in his mouth.

He dropped it and smiled. “Brought a snack for you! They're quite good, actually, when they're not being thrown.” Trixie was hesitant, so the Doctor picked up a particularly juicy tomato and took a bite. “Mmmmmmm... and you don't even have to worry about paying. The person I got them from was practically giving them away!”

Trixie had to laugh at this. She'd long since learned not to pass up free food, so she picked up a tomato and started eating. They're very good, actually. Vinyl helped herself as well.

A minute passed, and the Doctor finished his tomato. “Trixie,” he said, some of the levity gone from his voice, “I haven't been here long, but it seems like ponies around here are generally pretty nice. Why did they hate you?”

The show-mare looked down at her hooves. “Trixie would rather not talk about it.”

“... Trixie!” exclaimed Vinyl, suddenly grinning. “Dear Celestia, you're that Trixie! That's how I know your name!”

Trixie took it as a compliment, and preened a little. “Why yes, I am the Trixie.”

“You're the one who nearly got Ponyville destroyed!” Vinyl continued grinning. Trixie, on the other hand, abruptly stopped. Suddenly she didn't feel so complimented.

“So about a year back,” Vinyl began, turning to Octavia and the Doctor, “this mare comes into Ponyville claiming she'd saved some big city from an Ursa Major, and some kids decide they want to see a demonstration!” Vinyl laughed. “So they go into the Everfree Forest, wake up an Ursa, and lead it to Ponyville for the 'Great and Powerful Trixie' to defeat!”

“Shut up!” demanded Trixie.

“Trouble is, it starts rampaging through town—and she can't do anything! She'd never saved anywhere from any Ursa! Eventually Twilight Sparkle has to send the big bad bear back home—and it turns out it was only an Ursa Minor!”

“SHUT UP!” A bright red flare of magic burst around Trixie, and her voice resonated through the room. Vinyl actually took a step back, eyes wide behind her goggles. “HOW DARE YOU BLAME THE ACTIONS OF TWO IDIOTIC FOALS ON TRIXIE!”

“And you're STILL claiming that you beat an Ursa Major?” Vinyl retorted, nearly matching Trixie's volume. “Gimme a break! No wonder Missy was throwing tomatoes!”

“TRIXIE SAID SHUT UP!” Almost without thinking, Trixie focused her magic on Vinyl's stupid big fat mouth. It glowed blue, then zipped itself shut—but without pause Vinyl yanked it back open again.

“Oh, yeah, the old zipper-for-a-mouth trick. It's been done, honey—by someone a lot better at it than you!”

“YOU INSOLENT BRAT! WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?” Trixie's flare blazed even brighter. “I'LL—I'LL-” Trixie doesn't even KNOW what she's going to do to you, but it's going to be good!

Vinyl opened her mouth again, but Octavia grabbed the zipper and yanked her lips closed. This time, Vinyl did not try to open it back up, looking too shocked to do so.

“I'LL... I'll... I'll...” Trixie gradually calmed down, and her magical aura dwindled and vanished. She felt like vanishing too, after such a stupid outburst. Stupid, stupid, stupid. “Oh no. Trixie did it again.” Her voice was very small.

“What, lost your temper?” asked Octavia, hoof still on Vinyl's zipper just in case. “Believe me, that's one of Vinyl's talents.”

“Although,” the Doctor picked up a tomato and absently tossed it in one hoof, “that was quite a flare-up. So to speak.” Trixie buried her face in her hooves. “Which leads me to some rather interesting conclusions.” He missed the tomato as it fell, and it burst on the floor, getting a splotch on Trixie's hat. He cringed guiltily. “Oh goodness I am so sorry... not used to these hooves yet.” Vinyl emitted a muffled laugh, followed by a less muffled yelp of pain as Octavia tugged on the zipper, pulling her away from the conversation.

“Anyways, conclusion number one: you need a hug.” The Doctor pulled Trixie to her hooves and embraced her. He continued, softly enough that nopony else could hear. “Conclusion letter B: You act like you've got a lot of pride and bravado. Matter of fact, you do have a lot of pride and bravado. But deep down you've always got that nagging sense of inferiority. So you act out to prove yourself wrong, to prove that you're better than you fear. And then your pride brings you to another great fall and you feel worse than before. And on and on it goes, a vicious cycle repeating over and over and over...”

“Shut up.” Vinyl's words had made her angry, and they'd hurt: but that was okay, she could deal with one pony calling her a show-off and a fake. The Doctor's words cut her to the bone, because they were not angry or jeering, but understanding, even compassionate. And completely, utterly true. He'd given voice to the personal demons that kept her awake at night.

She pulled away from his embrace. He did not resist, but just said, “It's OK. I know how you feel.”

“Don't lie to me,” she said, her volume rising again. He knew exactly how she felt, and she knew it. Trixie, however, was not prepared to admit it.

He looked her straight in the eyes, and his voice took on a darker tone. “Look at these eyes, Great and Powerful Trixie. Look, and tell me that I don't know a thing about guilt, or failure. Tell me that I don't know what it's like to let your pride run rampant.” She looked, and saw the pain in his eyes, and what seemed like immeasurable guilt. Next to that, her shame seemed insignificant, even silly. What has he ever done to make him feel worse than I do?

Suddenly, the pain was gone, replaced with a sincere smile. “And the important thing is, don't let it get to you. Now come on—the show must go on, eh?” He pulled her to her hooves, and scrutinized her hat. “Oh, you've still got a little bit of paste on... can I borrow the hat? Thanks.” He pulled it off her head without waiting for an answer, pulled his silvery wand from his pocket, and pointed it at the stain. Now that she could see it up-close, Trixie noticed its blue tip and the whistling noise it made, which she hadn't heard before. In seconds, the stain vibrated itself free and fell to the floor, leaving her hat pristine as it had been.

“Since when can an earth pony use magic?” Trixie asked, shame forgotten as she examined her newly-cleaned hat.

“Well, I'd call it technology, but it probably runs on magic. Honestly not sure, though—I haven't built it yet. In any case, this is my sonic screwdriver.” he responded, proudly presenting the rod that was obviously not a screwdriver. “It does anything I need it to do, within limits.”

“Limits?”

“Oh, everything has limits. It doesn't hurt anyone, to start. And I can do little stains, but if I do too many the fabric in question sort of, well, breaks down into its component particles. Hell of a lesson to learn on laundry day.”

Trixie chose to ignore this absurdity. “That wand—”

“Screwdriver.”

“It is clearly not a screwdriver!” Trixie composed herself before continuing. “That magic wand activated one of my fireworks.”

“Yeah. Like I said, anything within limits, though it's really best with doors. And technology, which I'm a bit surprised to see in this world, actually. I thought everything would just run on magic.” Before Trixie could reply, the Doctor's eyes widened. “Actually, how long was this intermission supposed to last? You probably need to start your show again! Come on, you've got a city to impress! I'll give you a good opening.” He pointed his 'screwdriver' at the curtain—or more accurately, at the firework containers behind the curtain—and Trixie heard a succession of loud whizzes, whooshes and bangs outside.

Trixie smiled again. “One last thing, Doctor.”

“Yes?”

“What does razzle-dazzle mean?”

“Oh, use some context clues, would you? Now go on, razzle-dazzle em!”

She needed no further encouragement, and burst through the curtain. “WELCOME BACK, ONE AND ALL, TO THE GREATEST SHOW IN ALL FILLYDELPHIA!”

The crowd went wild.





“I should probably take offense to that boast,” Octavia remarked, as they left Trixie's cart and made their way back towards the crowd. “If only for your sake.”

Vinyl's mind was on a whole different track, though. “Mmm mmrrmmmr, mmmu mm mmmrm m mmrmrr, momm mmu.” Unfortunately, being zippered made it rather difficult to express herself. She concentrated for a moment, and the zipper vanished in a flash of magic. “Oh Doctor, you get all the mares, don't you,” she repeated.

The Doctor was confused, so Vinyl elaborated. “Don't you look at me like that. Lyra, Bon Bon, Derpy, Octy, and now the 'Great and Powerful Trixie'. Girls fall for you and you're not even trying.”

“Sorry, is there a point to this?” asked the Doctor.

Vinyl beamed. “Teach me teach me teach me!”

“I'm not teaching the most...” the Doctor struggled with finding the right word, but eventually settled on, “flirtatious mortal I've ever met how to pick up dance partners.” They reached the crowd and began squeezing their way back to their spot.

“Dance partners? Does that sound like a euphemism to you?” Vinyl muttered to Octavia.

“You think that I've fallen for him?” she whispered.

… crap. I DID say that, didn't I. Vinyl couldn't think up a response for a few seconds. Luckily, the hooded pony she was stepping past chose that moment to stand up and get in her way. “Hey, watch it, bub!” she yelled as she jostled him. He gave her a dirty look in response. Thank you, you unsung hero. “Hey, I was kidding! I mean, you haven't fallen for him, right?”

“He's very nice, has saved my life at least twice and, to his credit, is only the second most insane pony I know.” Octavia looked Vinyl in the eye. “But the Doctor is currently just one of my friends, and that's all he'll ever be—all he ever could be. You should know that.” She paused, then attacked the issue from a new angle. “Furthermore, how exactly is it that I've 'fallen' for him and you haven't?”

“Oh, you know me, Tavi. I've got the good sense and level head to fight off his stallionly charms.” For the sake of the joke, she did her best to sound completely deadpan, but inside she felt like she was doing victory laps around her brainpan. “Plus he's like a thousand years old—so ew.” She's not taken she's not taken she's not taken—

“Yes, you certainly displayed your good sense backstage.”

“What, back there? I was just—”

“Being an insensitive nag! What was the point in provoking Trixie like that?” The three of them sat down in their spots. The Doctor looked up to watch the show, apparently unaware of their argument.

“I... uh...”

“AND NOW, FOR TRIXIE'S NEXT TRICK, TRIXIE REQUIRES A VOLUNTEER FROM THE AUDIENCE!”

“Be right back!” Vinyl started moving before Octavia could respond, once again grateful for a distraction. She dashed forward through the crowd, squeezing through the gaps when she could and jostling ponies aside when she couldn't.

“ANY WILLING MEMBER OF THE AUDIENCE, STEP—” Trixie stopped short as Vinyl burst out of the front of the crowd and jumped onto the stage. “Forward,” she finished, her voice stripped of all volume. For some reason, she looked worried.

She regained her composure quickly, though. Removing her hat with her magic, she boomed, “YOUNG MARE, IT IS A DANGEROUS FEAT YOU HAVE CHOSEN TO UNDERTAKE. NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART. EVEN NOW, YOU MAY STILL TURN BACK, LEST YOU DARE TO FALL UNDER... THE MAGICIAN'S BLADE!” Suddenly she pulled a huge steel sword from her hat, provoking gasps from the audience and an ominous sound effect from the stage.

“What are you doing?” Trixie hissed, under cover of the commotion. “They all saw you in the audience before—you'll look like a plant!”

“I ACCEPT!” Vinyl addressed this to the audience, who cheered and applauded. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Trixie shoot her an angry look. Well, I guess I really look like a plant now. Might as well milk it. “DO YOUR WORST, GREAT AND POWERFUL TRIXIE!” she yelled at the magician.

To Trixie's credit, she went along with it. “SUCH ARROGANCE FROM A MERE MORTAL! TRIXIE DOES NOT SUFFER SUCH FOOLS LIGHTLY... BUT YOU SHALL SUFFER!” Vinyl felt Trixie's magic grab her and force her to the floor, face-first. She struggled—pretended to, anyway—as steel loops appeared around her front and back legs and bolted themselves to the stage. Kinky.

“RELEASE ME AT ONCE, YOU VILE ENCHANTRESS!” From this close, Vinyl was able to see the cuts in the wood that were invisible to the audience. Four of them formed a rectangle around her whole body, while another four surrounded just her legs, with a section of wood-colored fabric near her hooves. So, a hidden platform, trapdoor kind of thing? Her guess was conformed when the larger section of wood rose up from the stage, raising her like a virgin sacrifice on an altar. As if. She mock-struggled some more.

“YOU THINK YOU CAN ESCAPE? PERHAPS... AN EXTRA RESTRAINT IS REQUIRED!” Trixie produced another loop of steel from within her coat. As she made a show of placing it over Vinyl's neck, she whispered, “Hinged trapdoor under your legs. I'll get a new sword. When I do, get your hooves out of the cuffs and stick them in the part of the trapdoor closest to you. Don't move your upper body.”

“I SAID UNHOOF ME!” Vinyl yelled. “Got it,” she whispered.

Trixie finished restraining her neck, then raised the old sword and turned to the audience. “THE GREAT AND POWERFUL TRIXIE THINKS THAT THIS BLADE... WOULD BE TOO MERCIFUL!  SOMETHING CRUELER IS REQUIRED... SOMETHING LIKE THIS!” Out of nowhere—even Vinyl wasn't quite sure where it came from—she pulled something that looked more like a huge butcher's knife. It was slightly shorter but several times broader than the sword, and its edge was rusty and serrated.

As Trixie displayed the knife to the crowd, her cloak just happened to cover up Vinyl's lower half. In a heartbeat, Vinyl yanked her legs out of the loops and thrust them into the hidden cavity beneath the trapdoor. It rotated as she pushed against it, revealing what was on the other side: a very realistic lower half of a pony, though one with a generic gray tail and coat, and no cutie mark. The trapdoor rotated fully and latched, leaving the fake body to cover up her midsection almost seamlessly. Then Vinyl saw a faint purple glow surround it, and it changed to perfectly resemble her lower half; the tail became blue and messy, the coat became white, and her eighth-notes cutie mark appeared on its flanks. Its hooves reinserted themselves into the lower restraints, and it started struggling.

“NO! NOT THE ANCIENT KNIFE OF ERGOT!” she ad-libbed, making her upper half struggle as well. This is the coolest thing ever.

“THE VERY SAME, YOU IMPUDENT WHELP!” Trixie moved to stand behind Vinyl, and raised the 'Ancient Knife of Ergot'. “NOW, SUFFER THE WRATH OF TRIXIE!” She drove the knife down in a single theatrical strike, cutting straight through the fake mid-section and barely missing Vinyl's real one. Vinyl screamed in agony, having the time of her life, then went limp and closed her eyes.

The crowd gasped, and was silent. I guess the effect was that realistic. After a few more seconds of tension, Vinyl had had enough; she opened her eyes, turned her head to the crowd, and yelled, “Gotcha!”

The cheers and applause were louder than they had been all night. Trixie had to wait at least half a minute for the tumult to die down before she could start speaking again. “Thank you, fillies and gentlecolts—and give the great and wonderful assistant Vinyl Scratch another round of applause!” The crowd was only too happy to oblige. “As assistants go, she truly is a cut above!” And they laughed. “Though she has a bad habit of going to pieces onstage...” More laughter. “Hmm... how should Trixie go about... putting... STAMPEDE!”

That was a terrible ad lib. The crowd's reaction turned from amused to bemused, though a few of them still laughed nervously. “THIS ISN'T PART OF THE SHOW! LOOK BEHIND YOU!” Trixie pointed to the far end of the city square, well behind any of the members of the crowd, and Vinyl craned her neck to see...

You're kidding. There was an honest-to-Celestia stampede in the middle of Fillydelphia. Bears, deer, cows, moose, and more were surging into the square, squealing and bawling and making every other sound of terror. The crowd screamed, and a second stampede began as they tried to get out of the way—leaving no obstacle between the crazed animals and Trixie's cart. Great.

Vinyl pulled her hooves from their restraints, but couldn't get out of the neck band or the trapdoor. She looked to where Trixie had been and yelled, “Get me outta here!”—but Trixie wasn't there. “Trixie? Where are you!?”

Then she felt the cart wobble, and craned her neck to the side to see Trixie pushing as hard as she could. “Hello!?” Vinyl yelled. “I'm trapped up here!”

“I'll get you out when my house isn't destroyed!” Her horn glowed, and Vinyl saw wheel chocks fly away from the ground. The cart started rolling with a jolt, but it was still too slow. The closest animals were almost there. Vinyl gritted her teeth and braced herself.

Then came another jolt, and the cart sped up. Out of the corner of her eye, Vinyl saw the Doctor and Octavia join Trixie. They managed to push the cart into a side street just as the stampede reached them, still making every form of yell known to ponykind. In another few seconds, the last of them passed and the clamor faded away.

“WHAT THE HAY WAS THAT?” Vinyl breathed in for just long enough to yell again. “WHAT THE HAY... WAS THAT?”

The Doctor climbed onto the cart, pulled out his sonic screwdriver, and undid the neck band. He then focused the screwdriver on the trapdoor's latch, but nothing happened. “Magic, and it still doesn't do wood?” he grumbled. But Trixie had followed him up; she pulled the 'Ancient Knife of Ergot' out of Vinyl's body double—which had turned gray and generic when she'd stopped controlling it—then pressed a button in the back of the platform, allowing the trapdoor to unlatch.

Vinyl pulled her legs out and tumbled to the stage. “Thanks, guys....” Octavia helped her to her hooves. “Anyway, WHAT THE HAY WAS THAT?”





Good question, thought the Doctor. He jumped off the cart and re-entered the town square to take a look around.

There wasn't much to see, unfortunately. The square was almost empty, and the few ponies who hadn't escaped the stampede in time were moaning in pain on the ground. He rushed to the nearest one, a pegasus with her wing bent at an impossible angle. “Hello, are you okay?” he asked. “Can you hear me? Can you tell me what happened to you?” The only reply was more moaning. Well, at least she's breathing.

He continued down the square, finding a living statue unicorn with a chipped horn, an earth pony with a broken foreleg, a filly with a bloody mouth... in each case the injuries were serious and painful but not life-threatening. And in each case the victim had nothing useful to say.

He reached the end and found a zebra on the ground. His eyes were shut, and a part of his barrel spasmed with every breath he took. If zebra anatomy is anything like human anatomy, that's a broken rib for sure. “Hello? Can you hear me? Don't talk, just nod.”

The zebra's eyes opened, and they were glowing blue. With a sudden, jerky motion he stood and tried to keep running in the same direction as the stampede, but he stumbled and fell. The Doctor wasn't quick enough to stop him from hitting his head against a paving stone.

“Okay, don't nod, don't nod, just keep your head still!” He grabbed the zebra's head to immobilize it. “Are you okay?”

Once again, the zebra's eyes opened, but slowly and dazedly. They contained hazel irises surrounding black pupils; there was no trace of blue in them. “Where... who are you?” he wheezed.

“I'm the Doctor. Do you know where you are right now?”

“I must have had a... fall while napping... is this my home? Why, what has happened?”

“Oh, don't waste your breath rhyming, you've got a broken rib. And this isn't your home, it's the Fillydelphia town square.”

“But I've never been to... Fillydelphia... I—”

“Seriously, don't try to rhyme that, just... don't. Help's coming, don't worry. Vinyl? Octavia?” he called, looking back down the square to see his friends and Trixie trotting toward him. “Listen, just one more thing, and then don't say anything more after that. Where's home for you?”

“Everfree...”

Just as I thought. “Don't move, just breathe,” he instructed, and turned to meet the other three.

“So as I was saying, what the HAY—” Vinyl began.

“Oh, shut up, we all heard you the first three times,” Trixie interrupted.

“Ooh, big talk for a pony who needed my help to—”

“The Great and Powerful Trixie just saved your life, so if you don't mind—”

“Mind control.” The Doctor interrupted. The three of them gave him odd looks. “Is there any such thing as magical mind control?”

“Of course not!” Trixie snorted. “Controlling a creature's every action with a spell? How absurd.”

“Shows what you know.” Vinyl seemed to be taking a lot of pleasure from correcting Trixie. “Twilight Sparkle once made all of Ponyville go after one stupid doll with a spell. I punched out two stallions to get it. Ooh, I was so close!”

“You call that mind control?” Trixie was gritting her teeth, possibly at the mention of the mare who'd bested her. “Merely creating a certain desire in a group of ponies?” She snorted. “I imagine even you could do that.”

“Vinyl,” Octavia warned, before Vinyl could retort. “Dear goodness, sometimes it's like foalsitting... Doctor, are you saying that these animals were mind controlled?”

“And probably in exactly the way Trixie just described—inducing fear. That, or every living creature, sentient and otherwise, in a large area of the Everfree Forest panicked of their own accord, and their eyes started glowing blue too.”

Octavia grimaced. “Mind control sounds more probable... but who'd do such a thing?”

“Well, at a guess... the pony who's been watching us from that alley across the square. Don't turn around, or he'll see you looking.” he warned, as Octavia made to turn her head. “Behind you, half-hidden in the shadows, wearing a hood. Actually, on second thought, he didn't do it, but he's been acting as eyes for the ones who did.”

“Eyes?”

“Any time you do an experiment, you need someone to observe the results. Oh, and Octavia, could you possibly act a little less... statue-like? That's almost as obvious as—”

“HEY! YOU!” Vinyl yelled, and ran at the hooded pony.

“—shouting.” The Doctor groaned as he watched the hooded pony disappear into the alley. “Thanks, Vinyl, I really wanted him to know we'd seen him.”

“Like you were doing anything. Come on, he's getting away!” Vinyl sprinted after their suspect, forcing the Doctor and Octavia to give chase and leaving Trixie behind.

Down the narrow alley they sped, but their quarry already had a substantial head start. His hoofsteps on the cobblestone lanes were barely audible to start with. But no one could run like the Doctor, and as they dashed through the narrow, winding, paths the hoofsteps grew louder—until they turned a corner and saw him standing at an intersection of four alleys. Yes! The Doctor sped up in triumph.

Then he got nearer, and saw that under the hood the pony was smiling. Oh dear.

The three of them skidded to a halt as they entered the intersection and saw two other robed ponies to their left and right. The Doctor turned around and saw another one appear behind them, cutting off their escape.

“Three against four?” Vinyl didn't seem all that worried. “Yeah, come back when there's more of you guys.”

“You have no idea who you're dealing with, girl,” spat the pony they'd been chasing. He whistled, and in response a door opened on the squat, dirty building to his left. Out streamed half a dozen more of the hooded ponies, surrounding them. Vinyl seemed a bit more worried, and Octavia looked very worried indeed.

The Doctor made sure to look nothing of the sort, instead affecting a bemused expression. “Oh, is this su casa, then?” The hooded pony looked confused, so he elaborated. “You know: your home, base, lair, clubhouse? It's not bad—well, it could use a bit of work—well, it's downright awful, but I bet you could get on one of those home makeover programs and they'd fix it up for you. Wait, you don't have telly yet, either! Oh, you have got to get that.”

“He knows the location of our base!” hissed another one of the robed figures. Well, you just showed me, dumbo.

“You've seen too much of the Order,” the first one declared. “You must die.”

“There's an Order? Lovely!” The Doctor grinned.

“Augh—shut up and kill them!” the second one yelled. At her command, the ponies around them closed in, and a light appeared beneath each of their hoods. So, unicorns. Obvious, really.

Octavia nudged him. “What's the plan?” she hissed.

“Plan?”

“The one that involves living, please.”

“Oh, plan! Plan, plan... here's a good one—okay, you lot, here's why you shouldn't kill us!” he yelled, and grabbed Vinyl. “This is local celebrity Vinyl Scratch, doing a concert tomorrow as advertised throughout Fillydelphia. Don't you think there'd be a few too many awkward questions if she disappeared?”

The unicorns around them hesitated; the lights from their horns dimmed slightly. Brilliant! That never works!... wait, did I just think that?

The female cultist stepped forward with a grin. “We'll take the risk.” Her horn grew brighter, as did those of the other cultists. Well, that was stupid. Might as well have thought 'nothing can possibly go wrong'.

“Plan B?” Octavia whispered.

“There wasn't even a Plan A!” he shot back.

“What?” she hissed. The light grew brighter and brighter.

“COWER, FOOLS, BEFORE THE MIGHT OF THE GREAT AND POWERFUL TRIXIE!”

The Doctor, his friends, and the cultists turned around to see Trixie charging at them from the alleyway behind, wielding the huge knife she'd used to cut Vinyl in two. Unfortunately for the two cultists behind the Doctor, they did not turn quickly enough; she smashed their heads with the flat of the blade, knocking them unconscious. “TURN BACK NOW, LEST YOU DARE TO FALL UNDER THE ANCIENT KNIFE OF ERGOT!” she yelled. Vinyl took advantage of the distraction and lunged at the cultists to their right, knocking one of them out with a punch to the face.

The Doctor pulled Octavia to the ground, just as Trixie swung the 'Ancient Knife of Ergot' over their heads at the two leading cultists. The mare jumped back out of the way, and screamed, “Kill her!” Neither she nor any of the other cultists looked willing to get near that knife. Which means the time to move is now, before they get their nerve up again.

“Run!” the Doctor yelled. He dragged Vinyl out of her melee, pulling her and Octavia past Trixie. Trixie took one last wild swing at the cultists, then turned her own tail and followed them.

They ran as fast as they could, even faster than they'd run during the chase, up alleyways so narrow that their fur caught on the loose bricks of houses—but this was hardly their biggest problem. The cultists were still in pursuit, and fired bolt after bolt of magic at them, blasting those same bricks into dust. Trixie still covered their retreat, thrusting the knife at any unicorn that dared get too close.

The Doctor had lost track of time, but after what he supposed could be a minute the pursuit had died down. This did not convince any of them to lose speed; they continued dashing up broader and broader paths, until finally they burst from the Fillydelphian maze back into the city square.

“We're okay,” he panted. “They'd never attack us in plain sight of police.” And indeed the police had shown up in force during their absence; dozens of blue-uniformed ponies dotted the square, asking questions to the stampede's victims even as they were carried away.

“You're... you're welcome,” Trixie gasped, releasing her hold on the knife and letting it clatter to the ground. “Just by the way.”

The Doctor started to laugh as best as he could, considering he was still catching his breath. “What... you're laughing?” Trixie asked. “You nearly died like... like an idiot and you're laughing?”

“Long story... lots of long stories, actually,” the Doctor wheezed. "And somehow, most of them seem to involve a lot of running about... oh, and Vinyl?" He turned to Vinyl, who was tapping a fresh bruise on her face with some pride. “Let me do the talking next time, okay?”






Stay tuned: Great and Powerful will resume in just a moment.