//------------------------------// // Public Enemy Number Fun // Story: Sugarfree // by Wade //------------------------------// Public Enemy Number Fun • • • • Commodore Snugglebug could feel the bizarre creature’s heart pounding. He remembered that sensation from the old days. First they would be afraid, then they would fight, then they would end. He tightened the tendril of hair slightly, to properly bind the wings. There was something quite odd about this one. He could feel a very familiar, very curious magic within the beast. It tasted a bit like the old stuff, but it was mixed with Equestrian magic as well. The two somehow got along. With a fascinated tilt of the head, he peered closely into its eyes. One eye was bound, the other was clear. His magic was only partially working. That’s Grumpy Gilda! She’s a friend! “What’s a ‘Grumpy Gilda?’ ” Snugglebug wondered aloud, in Pinkie’s voice. His captive just stared with wide, mortified eyes. “Wh-what?” That’s her name, silly! Grumpy Gilda’s a griffon! Half bird, half lion, all meanie pants!! They’re super duper rare. Snugglebug scratched his chin with one of his tendrils, smiling at the thought. “Grumpy Gilda the Griffon!” He patted Gilda’s head with another of the tendrils. “She’s a cutie patootie!” You betcha! Commodore Snugglebug closed one eye, looking deep into Gilda’s unbound one. “Gosh, it sure is a shame we’ll have to gobble her up!” Gilda’s beak fell open. She redoubled her efforts to break free. Snugglebug pulled tight, turning to the vast sea of silent ponies before him. “She might ruin the big birthday bash!” Ooh! Um! We could maybe do that, but we could also try not doing that!! Gilda is really fun at parties! Remember last night?! Snugglebug considered the memories Pinkie brought across their mind. The griffon had been rather fun, hadn’t she? He really quite liked fun. It was kind of like eradicating the entire population of a planet, but instead of infernal annihilation, there were giggles! Hehe! You got that right, Commodore! Ponies are way more fun when they’re not extra crispy! He felt Pinkie’s laugh bounce around their head. It was a warm, delightful sensation. Maybe she was right. It hadn’t even been a full day since he had jumped into this strange, energetic pony’s body, and already the good Commodore was learning all sorts of interesting things. Luna had been full of interesting things too, but after a thousand years of being super best buds forever, there wasn't a single thing they didn't know about each other. This past week with Luna had been fun, catching up on what he’d missed, but he had a whole new world to explore now! He'd always dreamed of what it would be like to live in a world jam-packed with Lunas, a world overflowing with life, and furry, cuddly little behooved friends. He wanted very much to share that with Luna. That had been the original plan, really — that they would be one, that they would rule as one. Now that he was here, though? Well, it was different. A scant few years he had been apart from his beloved princess, only to return to find the poor mare positively overflowing of that awful Equestrian magic. No matter how much moon-touched sugar he had gotten her to eat, Snugglebug just could not seem to shoo it away. Why, she was worse now than she’d been when she first arrived on the moon, and that had taken centuries to cast out! Simply dreadful! Pinkie was a much, much better vessel. No magic, tons of fun, and she’d eaten more sugar than anyone in Equestria! She was the winner! The mare practically had half of the moon’s magic swimming through her body by the time he'd set up shop. Really, that was the big difference between she and Luna: here, in Pinkie’s tummy, it was just cozier. Commodore Snugglebug’s attention drifted back to the wiggling griffon in his grasp. Taking a deep breath, he reached into her mind, quieting her struggle and sculpting her into a more manageable state of mind. The ring across her eye burned bright, and slowly, she relaxed. Snuggles absently juggled the enervated griffon between his tendrils, replaying memories of Joe’s party. It had certainly been a more lively gathering than this. Glancing off to the crowd before him, Snugglebug waved his hoof about. A group of ponies standing before the gesture sprang to life, bobbing around like marionettes. Centuries of running Luna’s night court had made him rather good at mimicking life, and he felt he could do it pretty well. It had certainly kept the princess entertained — and reasonably sane — during her later, less collected years. He took that as a compliment. Even so, he felt nothing from his puppets’ empty motions. At Joe’s party, there had been waves of spontaneous excitement, spirited delight, beguiled revelations, and laughter. Lots of genuine laughter. For something so simple, it defied intention. True delight required a measure of surprise, and try though one might, it was really quite impossible to earnestly surprise oneself. Snugglebug found this utterly fascinating, and utterly frustrating. Hey! You know what might work? If you let everypony go free! Then they’d be really happy! Snugglebug nodded. That might liven things up! With a shake of their bushy tail, and a big, adorable wink, Snugglebug released his hold on every pony on the castle grounds. He looked down at a tiny teal mare before him, waiting for her to begin conversing with another. She blinked a few times, then her gaze slowly drifted upwards, falling upon Pinkie’s enormous, fangy smile. Her face fell into a gawk of unimaginable horror. He heard the audible inhalation of hundreds upon hundreds of gasps, and then, the screaming began. Chaos erupted across the crowd, ponies bolting for the rear gates as fast as their hooves could carry them. Snugglebug panned over the multitude of ponies that had not yet moved, either too paralyzed by terror or too busy screaming and sobbing to imagine escape. Gilda struggled with ballistic fervor, tearing at the ropes of hair with her beak. Commodore Snugglebug huffed in disappointment, shook his tail, and gave another spirited wink. The screaming stopped in an instant, as did the screamers, and everypony silently marched back onto the grounds. This was no good at all! How are you supposed to run a party like this? Pinkie Pie, your idea was terrible! Sorry Commodore! Sometimes ponies get a teensy bit frightened when they meet somepony they don’t know. Or when everything they know and hold dear is cast into a living, waking lunar hellscape! Snugglebug chewed on the thought. He was beginning to think this ‘birthday party’ idea of Pinkie’s would never work. Maybe he should start one of those war games, like he and Luna used to enjoy! Except instead of using moon dust, he could use real live ponies! H-hey! Um! Don’t get discouraged! We can still have a splendifferous, off-the-hoofsie, capital-C Cray-Cray birthday bonanza! Let me take over, and I’ll do all of the work! Snugglebug did rather like it when he didn’t have to do any of the thinking, and could just enjoy himself. That’s pretty much all he did, back in the good old days. Ever since he had awoken — some 3,000 years ago today! — it had been one hassle after another. Closing his eyes, Snugglebug faded to the back of their mind, letting Pinkie take over. Pinkie gently placed Gilda onto the pile of sugar before them, and spread her tendrils wide. Snugglebug could see what she had in mind: a spell. It had been quite some time since somebody had given him a nice, juicy spell to cast. Taking hold of the draconian magic that now resided within each and every pony in Canterlot, he followed her want, and lessened thier hold by half, to match Gilda. Nothing scary or unusual here! Just Princess Pinkie and her sister Luna, rulers of the moon, the stars, and everything below. She watched as one of the pink rings in each of their eyes faded, then disappeared. All around, her ponies perked up, a little confused at first, but soon, excitedly talking amongst themselves. Pinkie held her eyes closed as she concentrated on memories of countless parties past, how fun it was to be among friends, how exciting it was to meet new ponies, how satisfying it was to learn new things about each other. Opening her eyes, she watched as ponies began grouping together around street corners, benches, water fountains, and stair cases, chattering and laughing. It was amazing. All she had to do was change a few little details, and make them used to a few new ones, and they were happy. And if they were happy, Snugglebug was happy. And if Snugglebug was happy, then she was happy! It’s working! Can you feel them, Pinkie? The party is going well! Pinkie could indeed feel them! She really could! There was a flow of magic, all around her ponies, all the time. She’d always heard about it, from Twilight, and from unicorns of all kinds, but she had never had quite understood what they meant. Now, she could see it, and feel it. It was the momentum that Snugglebug so adored! The forward motion of conversation and storytelling, of new ideas and tangents coming together from a dozen disparate pieces. Pinkie knew better than anypony the fun little narratives that wound themselves together during a good party. They were magical bundles of expectation and enthusiasm, of genuine passion and heartfelt curiosity. You never knew what your friends would build together, once you got them talking. They created something new, something special, every time. With a giggle, she reached deep and commanded the pile of sugar and sweets to shift about, then disperse into the crowd. Like the moon dust of old, the sugar formed itself into gingerbread tables and peppermint-twist stools, sugar wafer bar fronts and graham cracker stages, rock candy dance floors and rows of party cannons, intermittently shooting out balls of gummy worms into the crowd. Snugglebug was quite happy to have something more versatile to work with than ash, and Pinkie was just full of fun ideas. Within a few short minutes, they had themselves one doozy of a Pinkie Party. Pinkie felt Snugglebug’s intent pull her attention toward the young griffon at her hooves, who had begun dusting herself off with an arid disinterest. Her heart sank as she felt the good Commodore thumbing through her book of memories, and taking a long look at her... colorful history with Gilda. Hey, we should have some fun with her! Remember how funny she gets when she’s mad? Pinkie swallowed. She didn’t quite want to think about it, lest she give Snugglebug any ideas, but there had always been a part of her that loved watching Gilda fume about. She was just so adorable when she got all flustered and defensive. Pinkie hadn’t really noticed at first, but ever since Gilda had stormed out of Ponyville, she occasionally found herself thinking back on it with a strange, detached fondness. She hesitated to say that she enjoyed torturing the egotistical griffon, but... teasing, in her own playful way, had been a bit of a guilty pleasure. It was not something she was particularly proud of, but it was there. Granted, there had always been a razor thin line with Gilda between obnoxiously off-putting and heart-meltingly cute. Pinkie often wondered if it was even worth the effort of trying to coax out the latter, considering how profoundly miserable the griffon could often be. Most ponies would not have bothered. But, Pinkie was not most ponies. Whoa, you’re totally right! She’s the best when she’s all huffy-puffy fluster-faced! Crud. Pinkie’s ears drooped as she felt Snugglebug will two moori guards to retrieve Celestia’s diplomatic papers on Gilda. Going by the memories Snugglebug had gleaned off of Luna, these were papers that Princess Celestia wrote for her sister, to help acclimate Luna to the modern political dynamic. They were... often quite brutal. She believed it had started as a light-hearted jab at Luna about her unreserved, overly forward candor. They had since evolved into a series of scathingly over-the-top takedowns, chock-full of all manner of embarrassing factoids and cynical conclusions. Luna seemed to adore them, but... Pinkie cringed at the thought of what Gilda’s might contain. It would not be good. Subject change! Subject change! Turning around, she caught sight of Princess Luna, who was gliding to the bottom of the raised platform in a wide-eyed daze. The ethereal mare silently took in the roaring party that stretched before her, from the foot of the royal throne all the way through the city streets. “Princess!” Pinkie felt her mouth chirp with delight. Snugglebug immediately pushed his way into the driver’s seat, floating Pinkie toward the back of their mind. “How do you like the party? Isn’t it wonderful?!” • • • • Luna gave several long, deliberate blinks as she processed the massive figure before her. Princess Pinkie was many times larger than she was, more akin to a small dragon than an alicorn. She held a hoof over her open mouth, narrowing her eyes as she intensely scrutinized the creature. Oddly familiar. Craning her neck upwards, Princess Luna took in the full breadth of the towering beast. “P... Pinkie Pie?” Pinkie giggled, her tendrils of hair waving excitedly about, like a bundle of snakes with their tails tied together. “That’s not the half of it!” After a moment’s hesitation, Luna hovered into the air, drifting right beside the mare’s enormous, reptilian eye. She couldn’t imagine how, but... she knew, exactly who it was. She felt it. It could only be him. It’s just... that was impossible. “This...” She drifted away, trying to wrap her mind around the immense mare. “This must be a dream.” Pinkie just laughed, drifting into a lazy roll as she hovered off the ground. “I know! I can’t believe it either! All that time we spent up there, dreaming about it, and now it’s here!!” She pointed eight tendrils up at the sky-ceiling of lunar expanse above them, vibrating with giddiness. Luna’s mouth fell open. Her eyes were wide with shock. “O... Oni?!” Pinkie squealed, her tendrils shooting out to wrap around Luna. In one, blisteringly fast motion, she squeezed the bundled-up princess into the biggest, softest hug Luna had ever experienced, drifting upside-down in a lazy, vertical spin. “The one and only!” Luna could scarcely believe it. She had been... positive, that what she had seen had been nothing more than a long, terrible fever dream. A strange and ridiculous nightmare she had passed through during a thousand-year sleep. She held a hoof against her head, staring off into space as Pinkie placed her back on the ground. Pinkie paused for a moment, then, with a gentle hoof, raised Luna’s chin. Luna looked into her sister’s eyes. They were a wobbling reservoir of barely-contained tears, her mouth puckered into a tight, cute little frown, and her antennae drooping with devastated sadness. Luna swallowed, then gave a tiny, sympathetic smile. “It... it is good to see you, old friend.” She placed a hoof onto Pinkie’s. “We apologize, but, if you might remind us... how, pray tell, did you... ‘get down?’ ” Pinkie shook her head with an exaggerated roll of the eyes. “I knew you’d forget, with that kooky dooky noggin of yours!” She tussled Luna’s mane with an enormous hoof. “Your helmet, remember?! I made it for you! Out of me! Well, parts of me. I can’t believe you just left me on the shelf like that! I had to wait months and months and months to get out!” Luna facehoofed. Of course. Her helm, the only thing that remained of Nightmare Moon. It had been the armor Oni had sculpted for her, up there on the lunar surface. The only reason she had even kept it after the Elements freed her from her lunacy was... as a reminder. A reminder of how truly mad she had gone, and how far she had fallen. The princess ran her hoof through her mane as she recalled the mortifying burlesque fashion show Discord had put on through her night court a couple of weeks back, his pride and joy being the lingerie number he had cobbled together from her more... risque frippery. Balanced atop his head had been the helm of Nightmare Moon, the emblematic ‘cherry on top’ of his shameless ensemble. It seemed dreadfully obvious to her now that Oni had eagerly leapt at the opportunity to snuggle into the greatest living embodiment of draconian magic in existence. She rubbed the back of her neck, looking up at Pinkie as the mare giggled and pranced in place, sending minor tremors through the marble floor. She supposed it worked out fine, in the end. Everypony seemed to adore her. She began to wonder, exactly, how and when Oni had come to share a body with the Element of Laughter, and... exactly... how and when Oni had declared him... er... herself, to be her sister. But, well, the more she thought on the matter, the more difficult it became. Utterly exhausting, in fact. With a shake of her head, she dismissed the thought. It had been a very long, very tiring week, and she would very much like a drink. • • • • “Here’s your papers, princess!” Commodore Snugglebug turned to grasp the small stack of diplomatic papers from a familiar duo of moori guards, spreading the documents across all eight curly tendrils. He couldn’t be bothered to glean the one-eyed stallion’s name, but Pinkie had a rather encyclopedic recollection of names to draw from, and he recognized the other mare as Joe’s sister, Seraph. She was beaming with a smile, her right eye held down by a pink ring of light. The other moori was missing an eye, and had just a bold pink glow creeping out from under his eye patch. The two stood idle, between she and Luna, in case either imagined some other use for them. With a scrunch of the snout, Snugglebug took a mindful of sugar and formed a large, round lollipop table, detailed with a minutiae of elegant lunar flourish. As the Commodore settled in, cloud-soft cotton candy cushions rose under Luna and Gilda. Snugglebug pushed Pinkie’s objections well out of mind as he eagerly skimmed the documents, drinking in their scandal like cherry cola. Gilda’s eyes darted around the table for a few short moments before she warily settled down on the cushion like a roosting chicken. Digging through her satchel, the griffon pushed aside a few courier scrolls and withdrew a small, hidebound booklet. Closing shut the buckle, she flipped to a page containing a small sketch of the red lights, surrounded on all sides by haphazard, scribbled notes. Gilda stopped for a moment, re-reading some of her notes. She furrowed her brow, then glanced up at Pinkie. “Huh. I’m not... one hundred percent on why the patriarchs told me to ask you about the aurora.” Gilda gave a dismissive shrug, gesturing up at the sky. “Looks fine to me.” Snugglebug giggled, slapping eight papers and eight tendrils down. “You got that right, missy! Never looked better!” Reaching into his mane, Snuggles retrieved a pair of green, spiral swirl gag sunglasses and delicately placed them atop his muzzle with practised regality. “Now, onto more pressing matters!” Snugglebug, please! She’s going to get really, really mad! The Commodore felt a rush of devious excitement. He could tell Pinkie felt it as well, despite her objections. “AaachEM!” Snugglebug bellowed out a clearing hack, raising one of the documents before his face. “‘Gilda von Godric: An objective assessment, by Princess Celes—’ ” Snugglebug froze, rattling his spiral sunglasses to the tip of his nose. He glanced over at Luna, who was oblivious, holding her wine glass in hoof while Seraph poured from a bottle held tenuously in her mouth. “...By me! Princess Pinkie!” Wh— Hey!! I didn’t write this!! Gilda stared at the towering princess with a flabbergasted dread. “...is this like a performance review or something? I swear, nobody told me I was supposed to bring candy today.” She began digging through her satchel again. “I think I’ve got some hard candies still stuck in here somewhere, if you want them.” Snugglebug pushed his glasses back up his snout and resumed. “ ‘Abrasive, boorish, and embarrassingly unprofessional, Ambassador Gilda radiates an ignorance of diplomatic decorum and basic Equestrian history that borders on high-concept farce.’ ” Snugglebug squealed with laughter, rolling onto her back. Gilda’s beak flattened into a sour grimace. “Oh ha ha, Princess. Hilaaarious.” She folded her arms in a huff. “Laugh it up.” Wiping a tear from her eye with a wobbling tendril, Snuggles rolled back onto her rear, pulling another document from the table. Gilda gritted her teeth, her eye beginning to twitch. Snugglebug fixed his glasses, holding the paper close as he continued reading. “ ‘Doubtless, Gilda’s distressingly prominent position within Equestrian politics is the unholy Tartaurian lovechild of the rampant nepotism that continues to plague griffon high society. As the sixth and most recent wife of Duke Godric von Garickson, Gilda has been granted a wide variety of—’ ” Snugglebug took in a deep, delighted gasp. “—You’re MARRIED?!” No no no no oh no oh no! Gilda exploded into a deep, dark shade of red, furiously waving her arms about in an effort to quiet the princess. “Would you keep it down?!” She pressed herself flat against the table, as if she might somehow blend into it like a chameleon. “Yes! Okay?! They paired me off with some duke!” She burned with embarrassment, seeing Seraph and Blind Dive grinning to themselves with detached amusement. “It’s just a stupid thing the elders threw at me!” Luna chuckled, swirling her wine as she looked over one of the papers. “Oh, come now, it’s hardly something to be ashamed of. It’s quite normal for a griffon of your age to pair off and have a fledgling or three. Good for the population.” She took a sip of her wine, glancing at the mortified griffon as Gilda clasped her claws over her eyes, glaring across the table through the space between fingers. “It was quite the problem, a thousand years ago. We half expected to return and find your people long gone.” She shook her head. “But, such is the power of love, we suppose.” “Yeah. ‘Love.’ ” Gilda sneered, staring at her clenched claw. “That’s the word for it.” Snugglebug pressed into Luna’s mind, ever so gently. Just say what you think. Just say it. The princess placed her glass on the table, casting a knowing glance toward the griffon. "What is particularly curious is why somepony so profoundly ill-suited for their job would choose Canterlot, over the comforts of royalty and an eager mate." Placing the document on the table, she slid it away with half-lidded interest. “Really, Gilda. Playing politics, of all things.” Gilda trembled with rage, glaring at Luna with mounting distaste. The pink ring in her eye now burned a brilliant white-pink, shimmering as it trembled about. “Yeah?! How many little brats have you squeezed out so far, bat brain?!” Snugglebug, stop them! This isn’t how friends should treat each other! Luna scoffed, looking out to the crowd. “Many. All were as precious to me as the stars themselves.” She placed her glass on the table, glancing at the seething griffon. “Motherhood can be a wonderful thing, if you are willing. It is trying, and it is vulnerable, but it is certainly nothing to be afrai—” “I’m not AFRAID!” Gilda’s fist slammed against the tabletop, cracking the sucrose. The ring in her eye flickered, now an erratic, searing white. She boiled with rage. The Commodore could barely contain his delight. Now this was fun! Wasn’t this fun, Pinkie? Please please pretty pretty please, don’t do it, Snugglebug! Don’t do it! Snugglebug stroked his chin with an errant tentacle, gleaming a wide, fangy smile as he dipped into Pinkie’s memories. Pinkie Promises were always the juiciest morsels, he had come to find. “OoooOOooo, you know what I heard from Rainbow? Grumpy Gilda thinks dukes are icky! She’d much rather marry a duchess!” Gilda bolted to a stand, spreading her wings wide as she thrust an enraged talon at the princess. “MIND YOUR OWN BUCKING BUSINESS, STINKY PIE!” She shrieked, seeing red. A stunned silence fell over the table as Gilda’s arm held firm, then began to tremble, then, slowly, lowered. Snugglebug met her eyes. The pink ring. It was gone. Oh, poopsies. Gilda’s face transitioned from ballistic rage to stunned stupefaction, then, as she finally tore her eyes off of Pinkie and frantically looked around her surroundings, to pure, primal terror. • • • • Oh gods. Gilda began staggering backwards, gawking as she took in the full, unthinkable, living nightmare that was Princess Pinkie. “Oh... gods...” She hung her claw off of her gaping beak, casting her eyes to the sky. She blinked hard. It couldn’t be real. This couldn’t actually be happening. “Oh... GODS...” Princess Luna lowered her glass with a baffled expression. “...What ever is the matter?” Gilda didn’t hear her. She couldn’t hear anyone right now. She was still clawing her way free from the numbing grasp of an overpowering, mind-shattering horror. Where were the stars?! WHERE WAS THE SKY?! A cracking sound drew her eyes back from the moon, falling on Pinkie as the hulking eldritch pony took a single step forward, crushing the lollipop table beneath the weight of her hoof. “Hey! You know what you need?” Pinkie’s hair tendrils whipped out in eight different directions, each clutching a different flavor of milkshake. “Something sweet!” Gilda’s back hit something hard. She darted her head from side to side, seeing the dark hooves of Seraph and Blind Dive as they wrapped around her arms, holding firm. She pulled and struggled and raged, but they barely budged. She felt a warm, sugary-sweet breath wash over her. Slowly, Gilda rose her gaze to look into the wide, fangy smile of Princess Pinkie. The next thing she knew, a tall strawberry milkshake was being poured into her mouth. She felt the muscular foreleg of Blind Dive holding her head still as the creamy treat filled her beak. Gilda felt a rush of several blunt realizations hit her, all at once. It was like she had skipped over every stage of all-consuming panic but the last: resignation to the very real possibility that she might not make it out of this one. She just knew. No matter what she might try, it was very, very likely that she wouldn’t live through whatever was coming next. Somehow, that made things sublimely simple. The last of the milkshake dribbled into Gilda’s mouth through a narrow crack held open by Blind Dive. She wobbled in place for a moment, then, swallowed. The tension left her body, and she stopped resisting. She closed her eyes. Pinkie grinned. “Feeling better?” Gilda took a deep, calming breath through the nose, turned her head to the side, and spat out the strawberry milkshake she had been holding in her beak, right into Blind Dive’s lone remaining eye. With a yelp, his grip weakened, and not missing a beat, Gilda pulled out her left arm and cracked it across Seraph’s face. As the mare staggered back, clutching her nose, Dive wiped away the thick ice cream with an armored hoof, just in time to feel Gilda’s head bash against his. He fell onto his back, with the griffon delivering a swift, debilitating stomp between his legs before thrusting open her wings and screaming to the air. Gilda didn’t need to look behind her to know that the worst possible thing in all possible worlds was barrelling after her. She could feel the air pulling away. It was like being chased by a flying, rabid whale. She pushed her wings harder than she had ever pushed them before, bolting past rows and rows of royal guards and Night Watch moori as they poured out of the crowd in pursuit. She was so bucked. Feeling the licks of Pinkie’s bubblegum tendrils at her paws, inches away, she pulled into a sharp dive, loosing a piercing eagle scream on a handful of pegasi arcing to head her off. She could see one on the end jostle in surprise at the earsplitting sound, and she knew, that was her target. With a sharp, heavy push of the wing, Gilda twisted to her side and came at the stallion with open claws. For an instant, as her eyes locked on his, he froze, giving Gilda the fraction of a second she needed to bury her talons into his chestplate, throw her weight to her side, and hurl the pony at his comrades. She watched as they tumbled like bowling pins, catching sight of the giggling pink goddess as she bore past them, coming down on Gilda like the demon Siris herself. Gilda drew her wings as wide as she could and thrust ahead, screaming over the crowded city streets. A vast, endless celebration sprawled across every district, every street corner, and every building — a raucous tapestry of aimless indulgence, with high society galas pouring into outdoor jam festivals pouring into fancy dinner parties pouring into writhing outdoor raves. Every street was alive with some kind of festivity, every pony partying however best they knew how. Above, Gilda could see moori and pegasi filling the skies, working their way toward the city limits in a concerted effort to cut her off. She cursed, and cut her wing to pull a sharp turn around a street corner. It was conceivable she might be able to lose Pinkie through the crowded market district. That was literally the only option she could think of. Tucking her wings close to her side, she sailed through a narrow alleyway and into the bazaar. As she furiously beat her wings to build up her speed, she chanced a glance behind her. Pinkie had dropped out of the sky, and was now barrelling down the street like some overexcited mammoth kitten. Ponies seemed to somehow know their princess was coming before they even saw her, and gingerly moved to make way. It was like a race to them, some absurd festivity. Coming up on the narrow alley, Pinkie leapt, clearing a two-story building in a single bound and coming down hard on a collection of fruit stands. The wood, the fruit, and the ground beneath her was instantly pulverized into vapor. Pinkie laughed at the sensation, taking a fleeting moment to prance up and down in a circle before leaping into the air and taking flight again. Gilda cursed, leaning to her side and bolting down a narrow row of wooden vendor booths. Pies and popovers and ice cream cones and bundles of cookies flew from their display cases, swirling to form a strange, multicolored pastry claw, whipping toward her with staggering speed. She dodged, missing its grasp by inches, but plowed right into a waiting watermelon cart. Covered in wet chunks of fruit, Gilda slid against the ground, tumbling to a stop at the base of the residential quarter. She coughed, scrambling to get to her feet, but it was too late. A thick, saccharine tendril whipped itself around her leg, and lifted the griffon helplessly into the air. Pinkie loomed overhead, touching to the ground and holding Gilda at eye level. She licked her lips. “Wonder if you’ll taste like chicken.” She cooed, bundling the young griffon tight and holding her up to her drooling maw. Gilda’s heart beat out of her chest as the fangy void drew closer and closer. Her breathing became a rapid, hyperventilated panic, watching as a line of cotton-candy scented saliva slid over her beak. This was it. This was how it ended. Devoured by freaking Pinkie Pie. “Hey!” In a sharp, sudden twist of motion, Gilda was pulled out Pinkie’s mouth and held in front of her beaming smile. “I’ve got an even better idea, Snugglebug!” Pinkie seemed to zone out for a moment, her eye twitching occasionally. “Oooh, but it’s really really fun!!” Gilda just stared, her breathing still a flurry of raw hysterics. Pinkie’s head seemed to bob up and down, as if in an animated conversation. “You’ll love it! Just watch!” The tendril suddenly pulled taught again, and Gilda found herself hurtling toward Pinkie’s mouth once more. She clenched her teeth, and pressed shut her eyes, cringing at what was to come. A warm, syrupy-sweet sensation overtook the entirely of her face as Princess Pinkie planted a deep, gooey kiss over her beak. Gilda froze, eyes wide, her body rigid, as an indescribably bizarre sensation poured into her. It lasted for an instant — only one, fleeting instant — but she could see into Pinkie’s mind. Like peeking into a room through an open door, she caught just the tiniest glimpse into her head. It was Sugarcube Corner, beset with dozens of streamers, decorations, goodie bags and presents. An enormous cake stood at the center of the room, reading “Happy 3000th!” in chubby, goofy letters. Gilda felt something small and soft grasp her body. She looked down to see a familiar, curly raspberry mane, pressing up against her. Pinkie Pie — the real one, that dopey, bubbly little brat — held a tight, trembling hug to Gilda’s chest. Gilda could hear her voice. It wasn’t anxious or pained or desperate, just... straight. Honest. She couldn’t recall ever having heard quite that tone from Pinkie before. I’m really scared. Gilda took a deep, slow breath. It was what she did when she needed to steel herself, when she needed to be strong. She knew Pinkie could feel it too. She paused, for a moment, then wrapped her arm around the mare. Gilda held her close. With a loud plock!, it was gone. Gilda felt her body jostle as the towering goddess pulled out of the kiss with a lazy, goofy smile. “Wowie zowie! Those are fun...” Gilda blinked, then glanced to the entrance of the residential quarter. Guard ponies and moori surrounded her, in position beside, above, and around the fugitive griffon. On each and every one of their faces, Gilda saw the same doofy grin, and the same distant, half-lidded eyes. She took a step away from the princess. Nothing. They were all as lost in the same dumbstruck haze as Pinkie. She shot one final glance at the bubblegum goddess, and bolted down a nearby alleyway. They would snap out of it soon, and their hunt would resume. She could think of only one place she could hide.