//------------------------------// // 5th Act // Story: Spike on Strike // by Sarcasmo //------------------------------// The nightlife of a small, rural town like Ponyville could never compare to that of a glamorous metropolis like Manehattan, but seeing it completely drained of life altogether was an absolute new to Spike. He figured far more than half the town must have been gathered in and around the two camps, leaving not a single house on his way with as much as a candle burning by the bedside. The idea of running into another pony was absurd, which was something Spike couldn't have welcomed any more. When he had left the camp, he had run straight forward, never looking back, until he reached the edge of the Everfree Forest, a place he had learned not to aimlessly walk into. But with the campsite behind him and the Everfree in front of him, he faced the problem of where he actually wanted to go. If he turned left, he knew he would reach Fluttershy's cottage within a couple of minutes, but that was no place he wanted to be. He didn't want to talk to any of his friends before and he still didn't feel up to it. He wanted to be alone until he could figure it all out, even if he had no idea what 'it' even was. Without any alternative, he headed right. He slowly circled around Ponyville, with a scenery of never-ending meadows to his left, illuminated by the moonlight. Out here, far away from the noise of relentless construction work, everything felt so tranquil, felt so peaceful. All was plain and easy. It felt exactly like life in a small town should feel like. He was so enticed by the sights and sounds around him, he hadn't even notice he had already walked to the other side of town. He had reached Pony Hille, the largest elevation in and around Ponyville. The last time he had been here was still fresh in his memory; he could still taste the home-made triple-decker nut-crazy vanilla cream cookies on his lips. It had been the night of the centennial meteor shower commemorating... some obscure ancient holiday only Twilight could remember, but that was worthy enough to have hundreds of golden streaks gracing the sky. Or at least half a dozen. That was how many Spike had seen before falling asleep from countless tiring hours of labor. But those half dozen meteors had packed quite a punch. Compared to them, the current night sky almost seemed mundane. To watch the sky more clearly, he lay down on the grass below. It wasn't a fair comparison by any means. Each night sky had been individually crafted by Princess Celestia (and now that she had resumed her old duties, Princess Luna), giving it its own indescribable fleeting charm. Each was a unique gift to the world, deserving of having the picture it painted savored. Yet, some small part of him still longed for the meteor shower. If it was up to him, he would have chosen the glamorous celebration of lights that came but once in a hundred years over the low, modest glimmer of tonight. But it wasn't up to him. He would have to make do with what he had. To pass the time, he played a game: in his mind he moved the stars around the celestial canvas to see what kind of exciting patterns he could paint. He moved dozens of them, then hundreds, the first ones already moving out of their selected place on their own, when everything was wiped away in an instant. “Rough night, huh?” Spike jumped up at the sound of the voice. “Twilight!” Only at the last second could he restrain himself from running over and clinging to her for dear life, intending to never let go. “Twilight,” he repeated in a much more somber tone, putting a lid on all his emotions. “What are you doing here?” “I couldn't sleep, so I decided to take a walk,” Twilight said. Like an uneven chain of dominoes, each word only slowly toppled the next. “I remembered the last time we had a big fight. It was after the meteor shower.” A low breeze blew over the hill, coating it with silence in its wake. Spike's and Twilight's eyes were locked on each other. All else around them lost its importance. The leaves halted their rustling, the grass blades stopped their bending, the stars ceased their twinkling. The world held its breath as it awaited what would happen next. Twilight's gaze broke first and slowly drifted to the ground. She closed her eyes. “I'm sorry,” she said, clearly and firmly. The world released its breath with a gust of wind, causing an excited swish from the grass below. Twilight had cast the die. She had spread her apology out like a blanket and it was up to Spike to decide whether to comfortably wrap himself up in it or tear it to shreds, like he had every right to do. Her fear for the worst prevented her from watching as her mind went through every possible outcome. “Twilight?” At the sound of her name her ears and head perked up. In front of her, almost within hoof's reach stood Spike. Despite having walked all the way up to her, he still seemed as small as if he was still on the other side of the hill. He looked at her with shiny eyes. “I don't want to fight anymore.” She bridged the gap between them and swung her hooves around him. “Neither do I, Spike. Neither do I,” she whispered into his ear. “I'm so so sorry for having put you through all this.” She lightly rested her head on his shoulder as he did the same. With the hatchet buried, they relished their moment of bliss, trying to make up the past days spent apart in a single minute. Even after the minute had passed and their felicity was starting to ebb off, they did not let go. Once they did, they would have to talk it all out; something both of them dreaded deeply. They knew somepony would have to take the blame and neither was willing to do the blaming. The longer they could stall that moment, the better. They could feel their arms slipping. Whether it had been seconds, minutes, or hours, their embrace had reached its inevitable end and they quickly withdrew, just enough not to fall back into their hug. Already they longed for a helping hoof to guide them through the uncharted territory before them. Neither had any idea what to say. Eventually, Spike was the first to speak. “Twilight?” "Yes, Spike?" She stared at him fearfully and expectantly, while he couldn't bear to look her in the eye. “What am I to you?” he asked. Twilight responded like a shot. “What you're to me is my Number One Assistant! Whenever I need anything, you're immediately there to help me. Most of the time I don't even have to ask. You remind me when I've forgotten to eat in a long study session, you deal with me when I have one of my panic attacks, and you always help me with my reports. You always take me seriously and you never let me down. I don't think I could possibly wish for a better assistant than you.” She hung her head. “I know I don't show you how much I appreciate you enough. I'm sorry for that.” “But...” Spike lifted his head up briefly, catching a glimpse of Twilight's expression, but quickly drew it back to the ground. “But is that all?” He couldn't help staring at her out the corner of his eye. “Of course not!” Her response came as fast as the last one. “You're also a great friend to me. When I spend time with you and Rarity, and Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash, and Applejack and Pinkie Pie... I can't think of anything I love more. Every day has been a delight ever since you hatched on the day of my entrance exam. And growing up with you under the same roof with the same mother taking care of us, you've been like a little brother to me. What I'm trying to say is...” She looked deeply into his eyes which by now were staring at her intently. “What I'm trying to say is, you mean the world to me.” For a moment Spike shot her a smile, but it fell to the ground along with his head. He looked even more depressed than before. Twilight was seized with panic. “Did I say something wrong? Did I forget anything?” She reached out a hoof for his shoulder. “Because I swear I—” “No, that's not it,” he said, looking back up. “It's just that... What if there's a moment when I can't be your friend and your brother and your assistant at the same time?” “What do you mean?” she asked. “Like, when your friend Spike wants to go visit a friend, but you need your assistant Spike to do something for you.” “I never really thought about it.” Twilight took a moment to consider the question. “I guess I would try to evaluate the situation as a whole and then rank all possible scenarios in a chart, based on urgency, availability, past experience, and other things. Of course I would also think of a backup plan and most likely a backup plan for my backup plan, if things really go wrong. If I had them available, I would also look into some double-blind crossover studies of...” She interrupted herself. She delved into the kind of answer she used to give her teachers during oral exams, and she was pretty sure that wasn't what Spike wanted to hear. “I guess I'd try to decide on what's best for all and act from there,” she said, smiling at him. Spike processed the answer in his head. “So what you're saying is you would find the best solution.” “Exactly!” “But...” He chewed the tip of his claw, but it wasn't enough to keep his mouth occupied. “But in the end you get to decide, right?” Her pupils grew to the size of saucers. “What are you saying?” she asked, leaning a little closer. “Do you mean my wrong decisions were what made you unhappy?” “No! Or maybe... I'm not sure.” He contorted his face a little bit. “I guess what I'm saying is that whenever we're together, you're in control. Whenever you need me as an assistant, you make me your assistant. Whenever it suits you that I'm your friend, you make me your friend.” He sighed, giving himself a second to get a better grip on what his words would be. “Like that time when you celebrated your birthday in Canterlot. You needed somepony to watch the library while you were gone and you simply assumed I would do it. Don't get me wrong: that private little celebration we had when you came back was fun, but I still wish you would have asked.” He buttoned his lips for a moment, avoiding eye contact. “Even when you were away in the Crystal Empire, you made me work the library all day. I mean, I didn't mind helping out a little, but I would have really liked to do something else with the rest of my day.” At her assistant's revelation, countless thoughts criss-crossed Twiligth's mind, like the flakes in a jarred snow globe. There had to be some explanations somewhere, some explanations for how she got started on doing this, how she could keep that behavior up for so long, and how she never noticed what she was doing. But before she could fully ponder these questions, there was something far more urgent to do. “I don't know what to say...” She reached out for his claw and found it. “I never knew you felt this way. I just assumed you'd think the same way I do and wouldn't mind watching the library while I'm gone. I'm sorry. I should have asked.” “Oh, forget it.” Spike let go of Twilight's hoof and threw down his arms. “I shouldn't even have started with all this. It was stupid.” “No it wasn't!” Twilight protested. “If you're not happy with the way things are, then we have to do something about it. There's nothing stupid about that.” Spike looked up. Twilight was absolutely right. His bashfulness was completely uncalled for. They would find a way to get through this. He was sure of it. They always did. A small smile started to show on his face, when a worrisome thought entered his mind. “But you're not gonna dismiss me as your assistant, are you?” he asked, panic-struck. “That's not what I meant. I still want to stay your assistant in some way. And your friend. And... your little brother.” He blushed a little as he mentioned the last point. Twilight stopped him with a hoof to his lips. “Don't worry,” she said comfortingly, “I would never ever lose you as an assistant, friend, brother, or anything else.” “But then what are we gonna do?” he asked, hardly any less worried than before. “Well, the problem lies in the ambiguity of your role around me,” she pondered. “So all we have to do is make sure to find a fixed set of rules for when you are to act as my assistant and for when not to.” “And how would we do that?” “For starters, I could treat you like an official employee of the Ponyville Library, which means that when it's closing time, you're not my assistant anymore and get to do whatever you want.” Spike positively beamed at this suggestion. It sounded like the greatest idea since hay fries with ketchup. “Can we really do that?” he asked with sparkling eyes. “Of course we can,” Twilight answered. “But this also means you have to show up on time every day.” She shot him a sincere look. “You have to show that you're a responsible and mature dragon who can handle his duties. No more sleeping in and no more naps at work, you hear?” Spike gulped. “O-okay,” he said a little hesitantly. “It think I can handle it.” “Of course you can.” Twilight went over to ruffle his head a little which he answered with a hug. It felt much different from the one before. Without a haunting specter hanging over their heads, they could really enjoy their embrace to the fullest. “We should really head back now,” Twilight noted after a minute. “The sun's already coming up and your first shift starts in a few hours.” “Aw, man! Do I really have to?” Spike asked as they broke their hug. Twilight giggled at him. “Alright. I guess I can make do without you for today. I don't think I'll get much done anyway.” She had to stifle a yawn. “Still, I think we should head back and catch a little sleep.” “Agreed!” Spike already turned to go when Twilight stopped him with a hoof. She lowered her back and he gladly hopped on, resting comfortably. After only a couple of steps, he fell asleep. * * * Spike was awakened very rudely and abruptly when he fell off of Twilight's back. After he got back on his feet and dusted himself off, he saw his former ride having become a scream frozen in time. Twilight's pupils were the size of bowling balls. Her jaw had dropped so far, Spike was tempted to stick his claw in between, just to see if she would even notice. She didn't look like she'd be rejoining this world any time soon, and when Spike followed her gaze he understood why. The campsites had changed quite a lot since he had run off. When the morning's first rays had reached over the horizon, the protesters' camp had quickly come to life. Despite the fact that many had worked all through the night, only with the break of a new dawn could the countless pending construction plans be fully tackled. Most of the protesters went to work straight from their bedside. It was only by chance that one mare went to get the obligatory clearance from their leader, only to notice that Spike was missing from his tent. Naturally, ponies started looking for him everywhere, but it soon became evident that he no longer was within in the camp. And however symbolic his role as a leader had been, his sudden disappearance gave reason for great discomfort around the protesters. Panic began to spread. With no official leader to guide them, with the fear of a descent into anarchy staring everypony bluntly in the face, within a few minutes everything had descended into anarchy. Everywhere ponies screamed their lungs out, broke down crying, or hid themselves inside their tents, stockpiling their supplies, for they feared the end of the world, or at least the end of the protest, had come. But just as quickly as the panic had spread, it dissolved once a simple rumor went around: the rumor that Spike's disappearance was due to a foalnapping by the mob camp. The protesters' fear turned into hatred that bundled itself into a thirst for revenge. Without thought, countless ponies jumped the trenches, jumped the wires, jumped all their installed defensive measures for a full frontal assault on their enemies' base. Already being on high alert, the bureaucrats in the mob camp didn't take any time to perform a counter maneuver of their own: they jumped their own trenches and dashed towards their attackers, into the no-pony's-land in between. The two fronts clashed and the wave of ponies was pushed high into the sky. As soon as the ponies up front had coupled with a respective partner of mutual agitation, the pair was quickly shoved to the side, to the back, or into any other direction, to quickly make room for those who yet had to find a proper sparring partner. Only once everpony had acquired a personal opponent did the fighting duets turn into fighting orchestras, with everypony against everypony in a classic free-for-all. Some ponies knew karate, others knew enough ca-razy to more than make up for it. All around, heads were noogied, rumps were bitten, and manes were tugged. The general battle strategy was to look for some stray limb or loose strand of mane and yank it, push it, punch it, or do whatever seemed most appropriate given the circumstance. Everything was so chaotic and violent, many ponies who felt sore from the fighting had significant problems notifying the others they were calling a time out. But atop the raging chaos beneath, some distinct ponies stayed levelheaded and opted to take the lead. They were calling out left and right, trying to implement their strategies on the battlefield. The Gel-Mane became the mob camp's self-appointed commanding general. He had long formed an emergency plan to be carried out in a precarious situation like this that was sure to give them the upper hoof. At the start of the brawl, he had instructed for cauldrons, which had already been filled up with the vegetable stew that was supposed to serve as the camp's lunch, to be heated by all the magic and firewood available. As soon as the first bubbles started to show, they were all hauled to the trenches, where several unicorns took control to levitate them over. With a booming voice, the Gel-Mane gave his order. At his command, his troops withdrew back into their camp, leaving behind a bunch of puzzled protesters. Before any of them had figured out what to do, the cauldrons were already hovered above their heads and their contents were quickly spilled on top of them. The lukewarm liquid didn't exactly hurt anypony (except for one who managed to get some of it into his eyes and up his nose), but the zesty soup felt very icky and yucky as it stuck to their coats, which was more than enough to break the protesters' fighting spirit. But the protesters and their group of commanders had not remained idle for this whole time and were well-prepared for a counterattack. While the other side had brewed their stews, they had rapidly gathered and tuned any instruments they could find. The Headband was conducting a choir that had formed in a line facing the mob camp, which used their side's magical feats to focus and amplify the sound of their instruments. Within half a minute, their stentorian chant ringing across the battlegrounds exacted revenge for the previous stew attack. As a matter of prudence, the protester had protected themselves with cotton balls in their ears against what was a disharmonious cacophony. Apart from the fact that only a few of the singers had mastered their instruments, they never agreed on a single song to sing. The result was an aimless chant, ranging from hymns on love and friendship, to pleas for the importance of saving trees, to pillorying of Princess Celestia's fascistic tendencies. Like they expected, it was far more than any sane pony could take. But unlike they expected, the mob camp was not beaten into submission. Instead of breaking the bureaucrats' fighting spirit, the protesters managed to raise it, to stir them up more than they ever had been. With hate-filled vigor they lunged at the protesters' base, determined to put an end to the piercing banshee shrieks once and for all. At the start of the assault, the protesters immediately lost half their ground. Without the incentive of relentless pain pushing them forward, they just didn't have the brute force to keep their attackers at bay. It was only a matter of time before they would falter. And just as the mob camp had created the first breach in the protesters' defensive line, Spike and Twilight Sparkle happened to walk in on the scene, causing the former to slump and the latter to slack-jaw. “Snap out of it, Twilight!” Spike pleaded. “We need to do something! We need to fix this! Please, use a freezing spell. Or a silence spell. Or your fail-safe spell. I don't care what spell, but you've got to make them stop!” Attempting to shake her body out of her vegetative state left her completely unfazed. He tried pulling her ears, tugging her tail, and pushing her sides, but her body remained solid as rock, unwilling to budge the slightest bit. It looked like Twilight was out of this one. He was on his own. He sat down and leaned against Twilight's hindleg. What could he do by himself? He couldn't even stop the protesters that had supposedly accepted him as their leader from digging trenches. And now he was supposed to stop ponies on a mad rampage who had opposed him from the very beginning? It was hopeless. He knew, without Twilight's help he wouldn't get anywhere. “I... I... I...” Spike looked up in confusion. He had heard right. It really was Twilight. It really was Twilight making these strange, diffuse sounds. “I... I... I...” At every iteration a tiny speck of life seemed to return to the unicorn. Her mouth was moving already, her muscles started to untense – soon, very soon she would be able to form coherent sentences again. “I... I... I don't think that will be necessary. Look!” Spike followed her hoof. Twilight was pointing to the middle of the field, where a bright white light had appeared. It began to spread across the ground until it had engulfed the entire battle scene. Twilight turned to Spike and shot him a smile. “I believe everything is under control. So I suggest going back to the library and catching some well-deserved rest. What do you say?” Spike didn't answer; he just jumped on Twilight's back. She was right of course: everything was under control and they did need, and deserve, a good sleep. They could just let the white light handle the situation. The white light continued to grow, creeping up the legs of all the ponies present. Nopony dared to fight it. In fact, everypony was much too startled to do anything about it. They simply waited until it had captured them all. Once it had, the white light proceeded by lifting the ponies off the ground and slowly moving them to their respective side of the field. It gave a moment of time to the ponies who had been picked up upside-down to put themselves into an upright position, before it gently dropped them to the ground and retreated back to its center. As it piled up, the light grew in intensity, brighter and ever brighter, until it was impossible to look at. It exploded in a big flash, leaving everypony temporarily blinded. Once they regained their sight, they found the light replaced by none other than Princess Celestia, standing proudly and immediately addressing the crowd. “I heard about a dispute dividing almost the entire town of Ponyville, but this wasn't quite what I had expected,” she said. She spoke in a calm, motherly tone, not showing any signs of anger, gloom, or disappointment. She found a forgotten cauldron lying carelessly on the battlefield and started to inspect it. “Pushing each other around, pouring stew on top of each other, deafening each other with music... My little ponies, don't you think this has gone just a little bit too far? Don't you feel just a little bit silly? Aren't you just a little bit embarrassed?” Celestia looked around the crowd, but everypony dodged her gaze. They all suddenly considered it much more important to spot something strange in the sky, to attend to a sudden itch they felt on their foreleg, or to whistle the innocent little tune they happened to remember that moment. Celestia tried once again. “Aren't you sorry for what you did?” Everypony was. They all looked at her, bowed their heads, and loudly shouted or quietly mumbled one apology or another. “Don't apologize to me, my little ponies,” Celestia pointed out. “Apologize to each other. You were the ones who got hurt, not me.” The crowd did as it was told. Everypony turned at least to their right and left neighbor and asked for forgiveness – forgiveness that was given generously. Celestia responded with a gentle smile. “I know there are certain disagreements in every group of ponies and that when dealing with these disputes, tempers can get quite flared. But I also know that a group of ponies can always talk everything through like the sensible adults that they are.” She took a small pause to let her eye wander around the crowd once more. “If we approach each other with an open mind, I am sure we can set aside our differences and find a compromise we're all content with,” she said. “I think it's best we take a little time out of our day, right now, and thoroughly discuss anything that you might find irk- or worrisome. Don't you agree?” They all did. Countless nods in her direction celebrated the idea of solving their problems in a reasonable fashion, instead of trying to punch them away in a giant scuffle. Celestia's smile grew warmer. She felt proud of her subjects, proud that despite their fighting earlier, they could return to a peaceful coexistence, handling everything in a civilized manner, treating each other with the dignity and respect they deserved. It was amazing how much a few words of reason and a little bit of coaxing could do. “Now,” she began once the crowd had calmed down, “I suggest we begin with the first point on the agenda right away. It is a point that I fear has been ignored far too long. It has caused much grief and worry for the ponies of Ponyville and it is of utmost importance to be resolved once and for all. What I'm talking about, of course, is the current height of licorice prices.”