Prologue:
“Small Beginnings”
July 8, 2005 - 20 miles outside San Palomino
The pegasus let out a bored sigh, pumping his wings again to maintain his gliding position above the large expanse of desert. Below him, standing out in sharp contrast to the rather bland browns and yellows of desert, was a black strip of road, upon which, glimmering in the sunlight, was a little blue car. From what the pegasus could see, it was a rather mundane four-door, speeding along at a brisk pace.
Must be out of towners, the pegasus thought, flexing his wings to send him banking to the east. He was getting distracted. His job was to survey the surrounding valley and lay out some simple coordinates that would later be used for housing developments.
Just survey the land and then you’ll be able to go back home. He told himself, swooping down towards the ground as he arrived at his search grid for the day, the automobile nowhere near the forefront of his mind.
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Two hours had passed, and the surveyor began to pack his bags. He had completed his grid, and let out a grunt as he flexed his wings and back. Time to go, he thought, zipping the duffle bag shut.
A sudden low rumble caught his ear, and he looked off towards the horizon. A large plume of smoke billowed on the horizon. The surveyor raised an eyebrow.
“Well that’s odd…” he muttered to no one in particular. He slipped the duffle bag on his shoulder, pumping his wings and flying towards the smoke cloud. Something was wrong, that was for sure. There were no oil fields in this area, so the smoke must be from an accidental fire. As he flew through the air, he pulled out his camera, readying it for use.
Whatever it is, I’d better photograph it. Then contact the authorities. He thought. ...and sell the photos to the paper maybe…
As he got closer to the smoke, however, any optimism he had vanished like dust in the wind. It turned out, the smoke was from a large train that had managed to be derailed by a vaguely familiar blue lump of metal.
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Manehattan
Mayflower was bent over the counter, busily clipping coupons for the next day’s shopping. The radio was tuned into the classical music station. The sound of a nature documentary drifted from the living room, where she knew her nephew, Pipsqueak, was most likely entranced by the intricacies of nature. He'd been left here by his parents, who had been asked to attend a science conference out in San Palomino.
The sound of someone knocking at the door caught Mayflower’s ears, and she straightened up.
“Honey, somepony’s at the door.” she called out. Probably just one of his poker buddies. She mused, returning her attention to the coupons. Her suspicions were confirmed when she heard Copper Wire heave himself up from his armchair and head towards the door, most likely firmly clutching his nightly Clydesdale. She thought nothing of it at first, busily working at her couponing, until the shattering of glass caught her attention.
“Honey?” she called out, setting her scissors down to turn and head towards the door. She was greeted by the sight of two police officers, one of whom she vaguely recognized as one of her husband’s old army teammates, looking very somber. She looked towards Copper Wire, who had grown noticeably pale, and looked as if he’d just been shot. His beer was in a puddle around his hooves.
“I’m so sorry, Copper, I really am.” the officer said.
“Sorry about what?” Mayflower asked, stepping forward. Copper Wire leaned in close, quietly whispering into her ear. As he spoke, Mayflower felt her entire body grow heavy.
“No...no…” she said quietly, shaking her head. She felt as if someone had taken a knife and plunged it into her. “They can’t be dead...they said they were coming back on Friday,” she cried, shaking her head again.
“I’m so sorry, Mayflower. But the train--”
Mayflower fell to the ground, letting out an anguished cry. Both of them, dead. She looked towards Pip, who was still watching television.
“He’s...he’s all alone now.” she said quietly, as Copper Wire somberly bid his friend goodbye, and closed the door slowly. He then leaned down, gently helping her to her hooves, and she leaned up against him, tears flowing freely.
“What are we going to do?” she sobbed, looking into her husbands eyes. He simply hugged her tightly, gently stroking her graying mane.
“Don’t worry, we’ll figure something out.”
Pipsqueak, meanwhile paid the adults no notice, instead observing the nature documentary on TV. He shivered slightly as the image of a giant spider climbing a leaf filled the screen.
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Castle of the Two Sisters - The Everfree Forest - Five Years Later
“Are you sure, Doctor Bunsen?” The young stallion asked, flinching for what seemed to be the hundredth time at the sound of the wind blowing through the empty castle around him. He looked around fearfully, the large, empty castle looming over him, blocking out the soft breeze that had been so wonderful at the entrance of this hellhole of a forest.
“Yes, yes I am sure, Honeydew. Now, are you going to help me find the arachnids we need, or are you going to continue to complain?”
Honeydew let out a vague sound of unease.
The older scientist sighed. “Do you want me to inform your professor at the university that you abandoned your extra credit assignment because of a couple hundred mosquito bites?”
Honeydew winced. “No, no, I don’t. It’s just...this place is so...creepy.” he said, slapping away a particularly big mosquito. “I mean, like, we don’t even control any of it.”
“So? The griffins don’t control the weather or nature of their country and are just fine. Your argument is on weak ground Beaker.” Dr. Bunsen replied grumpily.
“Um, my name isn’t Beaker, sir. It’s Honeydew.”
Dr. Bunsen just looked over his shoulder, eyebrow arched critically. Honeydew sighed, letting his shoulders sag. “I’ll shut up now.”
“Good. Now, to answer your question, yes, I believe we are close to the spider nest. According to my research--which is always accurate--The Star Spider lives in and around the Castle of the Two Sisters. They prefer dark, damp areas. This place is full of those. Just look around for a cleft in the rock or some sort of hole in the ground, and you’ll find some.”
“But this is a castle. There must be a thousand rooms in this place.”
“Beaker. Stop complaining. Start looking. Or I shall leave the premises without you.” Dr. Bunsen replied sharply, and Honeydew nodded meekly. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small flashlight, flicking it on and shining it about, searching for any place that looked damp or dark.
Given the ancient castle’s state of repair however, it seemed that ‘damp and dark’ applied to every square inch.
Now think Honeydew. If I were a mystical spider, where would I hide? he thought, looking along the castle walls, not really paying much attention to the faded frescoes and mosaics that showed golden clad alicorns in some sort of kingdom. That was for an art student. Honeydew continued to search, occasionally tentatively pounding his fist on the wall to feel along the walls, for a loose brick or a hidden door.
Suddenly, a part of the wall crumbled away, and a sudden swarm of jet black spiders poured out of the hole. On their abdomen was a bright blue star, which glowed faintly in the dark. Honeydew however, was far too busy screaming at the top of his lungs to notice the anatomical details of the spiders.
“GAH! GET ‘EM OFF ME GET ‘EM OFF!!!!!!!” he screamed, before feeling himself get dragged asides by a halo of green magic.
“BEAKER YOU FOOL! You’ve disturbed--” Dr. Bunsen stopped mid sentence, whipping out a clear glass jar and scooping up several hundred of the spiders. “You’ve done a wonderful job! Consider yourself promoted!” he finished, his voice loosing it’s previous venom.
A bewildered Honeydew blinked. “Wha?”
“You found the spider nest. Good job.” Dr. Beaker said, already heading towards the exit. “Now, are you going to stay here, letting wild spiders crawl all over you, or are you going to help me take these spiders back to RichCorp and to Dr. Cheerilee’s lab?”
Honeydew quickly clambered up to his hooves. “Here I come sir!” Quickly following the older scientist out of the old castle.
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Dr. Bunsen carefully lifted the jar containing a small hoard of spiders in an aura of green magic. He swiftly moved it to the chamber that he and Honeydew stood in front of. It was a stout, glass-walled affair, with a nest of cables and nozzles running from the camber to come together at the pair of laser emitters that flanked the case. With a flicker of his horn, Dr. Bunsen deposited the jar inside the chamber, popping open the lid and gently shaking it to provoke the spiders into moving about before he emptied the jar entirely.
Outside the chamber, and behind two layers of magically reinforced transparent fiberglass, stood Honeydew and Dr. Bunsen. In front of them, quietly whirring and beeping, was a large, extraordinarily complex control panel, that looked more at home in a bad science fiction film than an actual laboratory.
Honeydew turned towards Dr. Bunsen with unease. “Are you sure this will work?” He squeaked nervously. Dr. Bunsen rolled his eyes, pushing his glasses up his muzzle slightly.
“Of course it will, Beaker. I’ve run the simulation at least a hundred times. It is going to work perfectly.” he replied rather acerbically, fiddling with the knobs and dials in front of him as he spoke. A couple dozen switch-flips later, a calm, feminine voice spoke over the intercom.
“Beginning thaumatic build up, please stand clear of the test chamber”
Bunsen turned to Honeydew, eyebrow raised critically. “Now, you didn’t leave your watch in there again, did you Beaker?”
Honeydew shook his head. “Meep-I mean no, no sir!” he answered, rubbing his orange hair reflexively. Memories of several weeks as a glowing energy being came to mind. It wasn’t an experience he wished to repeat.
“Thaumatic charge exceeding nine thousand Megathaums, discharge in thirty seconds.” the voice stated flatly, and Dr. Bunsen nodded.
“Watch now, Beaker. It’s almost ready.”
Honeydew bit his lip, taking a step back. “Oh joy...” He murmured, slipping the polarized goggles on. Getting hit by over nine thousand megathaums didn’t sound fun at all, even for something as gross as a spider.
The electronic voice of the computer began to count down steadily, and Honeydew hunkered down behind the desk, ignoring the snide remarks from Dr. Bunsen.
“Ten...Nine...Eight...Seven...Six...Five...Four...Three...Two...One...Discharge”
The emitters glowed with an strange blue light before two identical white-blue beams blazed out of the emitters and spread out like a spider web, shooting from spider to spider as the hundreds of arachnids crawled along the chamber walls. Honeydew covered his ears as the whine of the emitters proved to be unbearable and the light only intensified, beginning to overwhelm the polarized lenses of the goggles. The last thing Honeydew saw before he had to cover his eyes were the spiders, suspended in the beams, all writhing in pain.