"Behold, glorious Tuesday, how thy glory palls before my own!" Sombra threw his head back, shaking his thick messy black mane thoroughly, shedding water droplets about. "Look upon my impeccable hygiene, ye mighty, and despair!" He declared triumphantly at the shower curtains, before letting out a string of maniacal laughter. "Hmm, yes, the acoustics of this bathroom are adequate for my purposes." He nodded with satisfied approval at his morning sound test. "Ultimately I shall have to somehow harness the sonic qualities of this bathroom for the purposes of declarations of war and terror. I shall dub this the Royal Cantoilet Voice!" He mused, tapping a hoof on his chin thoughtfully.
His eyebrows suddenly shot up as he snapped his gaze towards a bottle sitting on the toiletry stand. "Did you think for a moment that you have escaped my attention?" He demanded, softly. "Hahah! Think again! My ambitions and schemes know no bounds! There is no escape from my wrath!" He grasped the bottle in his magic, popped the cap off with a flourish, before raising each leg in turn, spraying the bottle's contents liberally underneath. "Listen to the lamentations of thy women, the death cries of thy lawyers! Taste my mint-flavoured genocidal apocalypse, puny body odour bacteria! Yes!" He roared maniacally.
"Ahem." He cleared his throat softly as he finally stepped out of the safe sanctuary of his bathroom and back into his small but homely bedroom, towel stylishly wrapped about his withers. He carefully sidestepped the little pile of broken glass he had gathered into a corner of the room, the honourable remains of the many valiant mirrors that had been martyred to his pursuit of the perfect smile. He picked up the last remaining reflective surface he had, a spoon, in his magic. "You can do this, Sombra. You've practiced all night long." He took slow, deep breaths, steadying himself. He blew up his cheeks a few times, stretching his cheeks with his hooves, before finally shaking his loosened face to free up the muscles. "Let's. Do. This." He curled up the edges of his lips and flashed his teeth at the spoon.
To its credit it only formed a single hairline fracture down the middle. "Hahah! Glorious victory! I have conquered even you and your arcane mysteries, oh lofty smiles!" Sombra declared with glee. Nevermind that the spoon had somehow bent itself in two.
Feeling giddy with victory he trotted over to his window and pulled back the curtain, ready to declare his glory unto the realm beneath. But first, he would greet his lovely neighbour. "Good morning, neighbour Star Struck!" He called out, expecting to find his window neighbour on her usual morning bird watching routine. Except what he found was her limp dawn-gray body half-hanging out of her window sill, a pair of binoculars swinging idly from her neck. What looked like blood was dripping from her nose. More inexplicable was the smoke rising from her sky-blue mane and her rapid, shallow breathing.
"Neighbour Star Struck! What oddity is it that has stricken you this day?!" He demanded, "Are you alright?!"
"So...hot..." She moaned, softly, in between her raspy breathing.
Sombra ran through what little he knew of city ailments. There were a few sicknesses unique to these modern city dwellers, such as cart sickness and blue balls. Perhaps this was one of them? "Uh, neighbour Star Struck, I fear you are suffering from sun stroke." Sombra made his diagnosis as calmly as he could so as not to induce any unnecessary panic from the stricken patient. "It is important to take necessary precautions such as wearing adequate protection before exposing yourself....er...to the sun." He peered up at the five inches of space between his apartment window and hers, squinting to seek out what elusive sunlight even managed to beat its way through the drain pipes and laundry lines to make it this far down. 'Well, city mares are known to be more delicate.' He decided with an understanding nod of his head.
"Heheh...expose...so much...need protection...guuuh...." A fresh torrent of steam rose up from the poor mare's mane as her nosebleed renewed its gushing efforts to drain her of life.
"Not good." Sombra muttered, debating with himself on what to do. Perhaps this is not all too different from helping one off the floor? He reached out a hoof towards her experimentally. The seemingly unconscious mare hung around silently. A moment of silence passed. A pigeon came, landed upon his outstreched hoof for a while, before glancing at him, giving out a panicked coo and taking off in a flurry of feathers. "Hmm, I see you do not understand how this hoof offering works as did I." Sombra nodded understandingly. An idea struck him. The purpose was not the extending of the hoof but the helping of the downed pony. "But lucky for you I understand the concept behind this most mysterious art." He said with a triumphant grin as he reached out for the poor mare. With an easy tug of his hooves he pulled her bodily across the gap and through his own window.
"What now?" He asked himself, cradling the young, helpless earth pony mare in his forehooves in what could only be described as a princess-carry. In his bedroom. Right above his demonic altar of doom. "Neighbour Star Struck, we are currently doing nothing. We must do something." He declared intelligently.
“Y-yes, me…” She rasped.
“Yes, that much is obvious.” Sombra nodded. “Your resuscitation is our priority.”
"Does....does that include mouth-to-mouth?" She whispered weakly, sounding hopeful.
He knew of this 'mouth-to-mouth', an advanced life-saving technique the heroes often partake in on rescuing their damsel/stallion-in-distress, apparently called the 'True Love's Kiss'. But only from the evil overlord's stop-the-sloppy-mouth-mooching point of view. He has never been in a position where he must in fact decide on the act. 'She must be really worried about her personal well-being,' he surmised. 'But I know little of this. I must defer to an authority on the matter.' He considered this for a moment. 'Neighbour Octavia it is.’
"Yes, we shall have this done post-haste." He declared, gazing down at her bright golden eyes with a determined look in his own. She seemed to tense up for a moment at this, letting out a teeny squee, before falling limp once more, seemingly unconscious. "Emphasis on post-haste." He added, urgently.
An explosive boom filled the room, sending dust and plaster flying through his bedroom door. "To find and attack my evil lair as early as Tuesday. This assailant should not be underestimated." Sombra muttered, turning to look out of his bedroom door. But instead of a hero and his company of merry ponies, he was greeted by a large hole in his living room wall. "Such cunning! Instead of seeking out the five keys to the dark gates to my stronghold scattered across my kingdom, you choose to simply make yourself a portal!" He shouted at the cloud of dust obscuring the invading armies from the realm beyond. “Very well; you have at least earned yourself my recognition. Identify yourself, hero!”
"Oh, hello, Shadow. Good morning." The billowing cloud of dust and plaster finally settled, revealing the invading horde in all its beautiful and elegant glory. Neighbour Octavia greeted him with a placid smile. "I do apologize about your wall. I was doing some morning exercises and I may have put in a little too much passion into it."
Sombra blinked, before shaking himself. 'Relax, me. This isn't like the old world. In these modern and friendly times, nice well-meaning neighbours pop in all the time.' He recalled a recent study on friendship he read by a certain Twilight Sparkle; perhaps this was chance being granted upon him? He decided he had best play the fascinated if bewildered neighbour. "Uh, good morning, neighbour Octavia. Errr, what position was it today?" Sombra asked, blankly.
"Bucking the Stout Tree of Love." Octavia replied without dropping a beat. "Would you like some maple syrup tacos for breakfast? I made extra." She offered, gesturing at her apartment.
Sombra did a mental hoof-pump of victory. 'Achievement - Get invited by a neighbour for a friendly meal. See this, Cadence, I am so well-adjusted even the maple syrup tacos throw themselves at me.' He allowed himself a secret grin of triumph. But he reminded himself of the more pressing matter at hoof. "Neighbour Octavia, our mutual neighbour Star Struck finds herself needy." Sombra said, nodding down at the mare in his arms and giving a small shake. Star Struck remained incapacitated.
Neighbour Octavia seemed so fascinated by his (admittedly very stylish if discounted) towel that she had completely missed the mare cradled against his bosom. "Bwuh, wha?" She blinked, shaking herself quickly. "Shadow, why is there a mare in your arms? In your bedroom? In the morning? In the nude?" She asked.
"In answer to that last one, deep down, we all are." Sombra nodded sagely. "But also on the outside, most of the time." He added. "As for why, neighbour Octavia, our mutual neighbour Star Struck is urgently in need of true love's kiss."
"Pardon, what?" One of Octavia's eyes twitched dangerously at this, bits of her lustrous black mane twanging at breakneck angles.
"I hope you can be the one to do the deed." Sombra passed the limp mare over to the dumbstruck Octavia.
"What?" Octavia repeated like a broken record, her earth pony strength easily bearing her new burden, if reluctantly.
"I will observe and gain a deeper appreciation of this most fascinating practice." Sombra said, sitting back on his haunches, looking the very epitome of observant patience.
Octavia glanced between Sombra and the mare in her arms, mouth open wide with many unasked questions. Was she really being asked to...? Well, maybe...
"Ah, time is a cruel mistress." Sombra muttered, eyeing the remains of his alarm clock. "I'm very sorry, neighbour Octavia, I will have to leave this burden in your capable hooves. I shall be delighted to partake in your offering of syrupy taco goodness another day. Now, you will have to excuse me." He whipped off his towel with a billowing flourish, tossing it into the air. It slowly fluttered down and landed atop the numb Octavia's head. "I have a mission from the goddess of love." He magically slipped his McTrotnald uniform on as he strode off through the living room towards the front door.
The front door opened and shut, leaving a shellshocked Octavia standing in Sombra's living room. "Oh, don't worry about the wall, neighbour Octavia." The front door opened to allow Sombra's voice to sail back in. "I was hoping to expand the borders of my Empire soon anyway." The door shut once more.
Octavia decided to finally look down at the mare in her arms, head slowly rotating to examine her. Only to find the mare puckering her lips expectantly at her. That was enough for Octavia to drop her unceremoniously onto the floor.
"Oww!" Star Struck cried as she hit the parquet floor with a thump. "What gives?!" She demanded, eyes fluttering open. Confusion raked her features, before her eyes settled on Octavia. "Hey, who're you and what're you doing here?!" She gasped on clapping eyes on Octavia's angry form looming above her.
"Yoga." Octavia growled, reaching through the hole in the wall into her own apartment to bring out the sledgehammer that just happened to be lying around under a layer of dust and plaster. With a grin, she hefted it up onto her shoulders. It had nothing to do with her yoga; nothing at all.
Sombra locked the dark gates into his diabolical stronghold with all five keys, including the cute little crystal-heart-replica padlock, before turning to face his latest nemesis of the week, Tuesday. His departure was halted briefly by a muffled crash from somewhere inside his apartment. "Sweet Luna, aaaaaaah!" He heard Star Struck cry out.
"I knew I could rely on neighbour Octavia. Neighbour Star Struck sounds perky and healthy already." Sombra nodded to himself with satisfaction.
"Hey, boss!" A chirpy voice called out excitedly. Sombra knew only one mare who would call him that. He looked up the corridor and found a golden yellow pegasus trotting down towards him. The morning light reflecting off her blazing orange wind-swept mane was almost blinding. She wore a weatherworn flight jacket over her own immaculately pressed McTrotnald's uniform.
"Good morning, trainee Spitfire!" Sombra greeted his trainee part-timer. Only two days ago she had been a customer. That same afternoon she was enthusiastically donning her uniform and flying on her first delivery runs. Because of the staff shortage (and Tall Order being banned from having female subordinates), he had inexplicably been assigned her senior despite having only been on the job for four days. He took it as a good omen - being granted underlings of his own was surely a sign of him moving up in the world.
"I took up your suggestion. I moved into your apartment block." Spitfire said, wearing her usual slow grin.
‘Jobs really must be scarce for her to snatch up the job so suddenly, insisting on starting right away. She must have been wanting. She was homeless too, so desperately so that she went so far as to ask me where I live in case there was a place.’ Sombra had thought to himself, pityingly. ‘Poor trainee Spitfire. But she is in good hooves now. I shall endeavour to be a good senior and train her in the arcane ways of Overlord McTrotnald. And now I shall be able to look out for her as a good neighbour too,’ he nodded to himself determinedly. ‘Now I simply need to figure out what good neighbours actually do, other than pop in and offer syrupy tacos.’
“Congratulations on founding your Queendom then, trainee Spitfire. I am happy for you. May the dark heart of your lands beat for all eternity, may your stout walls stay the tax pony and his evil.” Sombra gave her an earnest smile, one that thankfully didn’t send her leaping out the nearest window. “You are lucky, however. This fortress’ tactical value, strategic position and proximity to the local laundry makes it quite popular. Not to mention the rent is a blessing from heaven. I would have thought it was full with other aspiring overlords.”
"Oh, the stallion next door seemed in a real hurry to leave. I gladly took his keys off him." She nodded at the apartment next to his own.
"Hm. I hope it wasn't my singing in the shower," Sombra said, frowning a little. He wouldn’t be a good neighbour at all if he drove others away through inconsiderate melodies. "Still, you've made an excellent choice, trainee Spitfire. Or is it new neighbour Spitfire now?"
"We can take our sweet time finding out what exactly." She said, stepping up close. Real close. "I've got a few ideas in mind already." She whispered, peering up at him with half-lidded eyes.
"Time?" Sombra blinked. "Time! Trainee Spitfire! We're late!" He gasped, looking about frantically. "The sidewalks will be packed!"
"Huh, time?” Spitfire stared at him for a moment. Then understanding seemed to dawn as she lazily waved a hoof about. “Oh yeah, the fast food joint thing; right.”
“It is our death-bound duty to be at work on time, trainee Spitfire.” Sombra wasn’t one to miss a moment to ingrain a lesson in his young protege. “Tardiness on the battlefield could be all the difference between being the looter or the looted.”
“Pshh, Captai—....Spitfire's never late!" Spitfire laughed. "And sidewalks? C'mon, Boss, sidewalks are for wussies."
"Trainee Spitfire?!" He shouted over the roar of the wind in his ears as he made yet another running jump.
"Don't talk. Don't wanna bite your tongue." Spitfire said with a hearty chuckle.
"Watch out for that water tower!" He shouted as he skidded across some loose roof tiles as he landed on yet another rooftop.
"Whoah!" Spitfire did a quick barrel roll out of the water tower's way. "Thanks, wingman." She laughed, barrel-rolling to Sombra's side. The early morning wind bit their faces as they made their way across the tightly-packed rooftops of the dense Four Hooves district of Manehattan. When they were not dodging billboards and magic antennae, they were sidestepping the many ramshackle shacks and lean-tos that littered the rooftops.
"We need to go back!" He cried as they cleared another gap in between two apartments.
"Why? Left your balls at home, Boss?" Spitfire chided.
"That and my bladder." Sombra huffed as he landed in a heavy canter across a thankfully open, flat rooftop. "We made a wrong turn at that last billboard." He pointed a hoof over his back as he slowed to a trot.
"Cause you were staring at the mare in that ad. C'mon, admit it." Spitfire grinned, hovering right above him, peering down at him upside-down. The aviator sunglasses perched across her muzzle somehow defied gravity. "You got the hots for that Neighponese idol-mare, Sayo Nara." She accused with a teasing grin.
"She had a moustache!" Sombra protested, "A massive one! Enough to drive me green with envy! A moustache like that could choke a pony in a fight and send entire armies fleeing in fear!"
"That was a fur scarf, boss." Spitfire rolled her eyes, before giving a little giggle. It was the first giggle he had heard from her. She chuckles, guffaws, even cackles, but never something as feminine as giggle. "Thank goodness I can never compete with a moustache." She sighed, shaking her head, earning her a blank stare from Sombra. "Besides, I was taking you down the scenic route, Boss."
"Scenic?" Sombra asked. "What's 'scenic'?"
"You know, 'beautiful'." Spitfire said, gesturing for him to follow her up to the edge of the rooftop.
"Beautiful?" Sombra asked, raising one eyebrow. His other eyebrow quickly shot up to join its brethren as his eyes widened in awe. His jaw went the other way, joining his hooves on the floor. "B-B-beautiful..." His slack jaw managed.
They stood overlooking the Four Hooves District's Celestia Square, the meeting point of the four streets that made up the 'Four Hooves'. The morning market below was already bustling with activity. But what took his breath away was a little further beyond, out on the horizon above the square. The silver lining across the bit of horizon visible in between the city's many towers suddenly erupted in a flash of gold. Gold spilled across the city, glinting off the metal, sparkling off the glass. Celestia's light slowly but surely caressed the entire city, embracing it in her golden glow. The soft warmth lit up their wind-bitten faces as a crisp dawn breeze ruffled their manes gently.
"W-what mind-control magic is this?" He whispered, eyes enraptured with the view.
"Beauty," Spitfire whispered in his ear.
"It is but a giant ball of burning gas being lifted into the sky by sunny-side-rear herself like any other day." Sombra shook his head as if trying to clear his mind. "Why is it today the simple sight of it makes me wish to hug the sky and dance on rainbows?"
"Because it's always been beautiful," Spitfire whispered, sidling up next to him. She lightly leaned against his frozen form. "You just need to stop for a moment, open your eyes, and see it."
Sombra simply gaped in answer. "We're... still late." He finally managed, gulping, unable to tear his eyes away from the spectacle.
"Yeah." Spitfire agreed. "You wanna go?"
"Just... just another minute."
They stayed another three.