//------------------------------// // Back in Black // Story: An Old-Fashioned Notion // by Thereisnospoon303 //------------------------------// Chapter 5 Back in Black “This is so fascinating!” Twilight Sparkle’s eyes gleamed with enthusiasm. She stood over a small wooden stool, studying the metal faceplate broken from the alien found in the orchard. The mask, although simple in its design, had once been a source of terror. Now Twilight could not help but inspect it from every angle, as careful study had revealed it to be no ordinary faceplate. All told, this had been no ordinary morning. With some effort and ingenuity, Twilight and Applejack, along with Spike, had managed to drag the alien’s body back to the barn and onto a makeshift table. Once Spike departed for the library and Applejack left to check on her family, Twilight took it upon herself to study the alien to the best of her abilities. The fact the Apple Family barn was hardly ideal laboratory did not impede Twilight’s yearning for answers. Twilight peered over the facemask’s internal workings. An elaborate network of strange inscriptions covered the inner surface, reminiscent of ancient scrolls and tablets etched with runes. Twilight hummed to herself in consideration. Could it be, she mused, that this creature, though radically different from anything encountered in Equestria, possessed magic? Such a hypothesis made sense when she reflected upon the nature of the creature’s arrival. Immersed in thought, Twilight failed notice that Spike had opened the barn door. He shakily balanced a large stack of books and a few small boxes in his arms. After slipping inside, he managed to close the door behind him using his tail. “Twilight…” Spike huffed. “I got all of the stuff from the library you asked for.” “Mhmm…” “Where should I set this down?” “Oh, you can put them down over there.” “Over where?” “Mhmm…” Spike stopped and frowned. “Seriously. Not helping much.” “Yes, over there,” Twilight said, still distracted. “Next to the table. I’ll be with you in a moment, Spike.” Grunting, Spike hoisted the boxes and books which towered above his head. He felt his already tenuous grasp loosening. Spike’s eyes frantically darted between the table holding the creature and the copy of Equestrian Zoology Vol. II wobbling at the top of the pile. “Uh oh.” Spike gulped. He stumbled, unable to keep up with the ever tilting stack. Stopping short, he fell back onto his bottom, causing the materials inside the boxes to rattle in his arms. Twilight’s head at last jolted up and toward the source of the commotion. “Be careful, Spike! Some of those instruments are very sensitive!” Spike moaned, his eyes spinning about in circles. “Yeah… and heavy.” Shaking his head, he shoved the boxes off of his chest. “Good thing you didn’t ask for your telescope.” Twilight smiled ruefully at Spike. “I’m sorry. I normally would’ve helped you, but I’ve been able to use this time to make some significant progress.” “Did you try wearing it?” Spike asked, pointing at the faceplate Twilight held. Twilight frowned. “Don’t be silly. I want to inspect this with as much care as possible. I’m already getting ahead of myself by examining this without the proper tools. For instance, using magic could potentially contaminate or change its properties.” She winced at her own words. “I hope that doesn’t happen.” Spike ambled over to Twilight, giving the unconscious alien a passing glance as he did. “Let’s see: it’s fallen out of the sky, been smashed by AJ, and covered in dirt. By this point, Twilight, I’d say you’ve got nothing to worry about.” “That’s not very reassuring,” Twilight said in a flat voice. “But I am happy to say I have a few hypotheses in mind—nothing substantiated by thorough research, of course, but that’s coming soon enough.” Spike folded his arms and mumbled beneath his breath, “Yeah, I knew you were going to start experimenting on it.” “I’m going to ignore that comment!” Twilight said, her enthusiasm rebounding. With the faceplate in tow, she took several steps nearer to the table and the alien. “I’m rather certain, based on brief analysis of this object, that the creature is encased in some sort of metal armature. Furthermore, if the creature could survive a fall at terminal velocity, the casing must have other properties I’ve not yet identified.” “So, in other words, he’s wearing some kind of super armor that kept him from going splat?” Spike clapped his claws for emphasis. “Huh. That’s pretty nifty.” Twilight shook her head. “It's not so simple, Spike. Yes, the armor is durable—but where does it come from? How was it crafted? Although I still want to run some tests to be absolutely certain, I can already tell that this metal is unlike any substance I’ve come across in my study of metallurgy.” “But that makes sense, right?” Spike pointed to the alien. “It came through the portal, remember?” Twilight glanced at the faceplate, and then over at the prone creature. “I wish I could be more certain, Spike,” she said, her voice sinking. She then puffed her chest and stood straight. “But I don’t plan on giving up on this. I’m determined to get to the bottom of things as soon as possible!” “Great!” Spike exclaimed as he pumped his fist in the air. His arm promptly slackened. “So, uh, what're you going to do next?” “Well, since I’ve already exposed this armor to magic, I might as well see if there are in fact any magical properties to this creature or its casing.” Twilight rotated the faceplate in the air. “I’ve found some elaborate inscriptions on the inside of this piece that have led me to believe the armor may, in fact, be enchanted. That would help explain how this creature survived the fall.” She giggled excitedly. “Oh! It could even provide some clues as to the nature of that portal!” “Magic, huh?” Spike scratched at the side of his head in bemusement. “Something tells me this thing isn’t exactly like a unicorn.” “Quite true, Spike,” Twilight said with added relish, like a teacher feeding off of her student’s inquiries. She walked over to the table and stood at the head of the creature. “Clearly this being isn’t a unicorn or an alicorn. However, as I noted earlier, there’s this strange light in its chest.” Spike nodded vigorously. “Oh yeah! I remember that.” Wanting a better view, he scampered over and hopped onto Twilight’s back. From there he could barely see the triangular-shaped glow embedded in the center of the creature’s armor. “You think it’s like a horn or something?” Twilight leaned her neck up and forward carefully. The creature’s frame forced her to strain for an observation of its whole body. “It’s hard to say at this point. I don’t know if it’s natural to the creature. There’s the possibility that it’s some sort of artifact, like the Alicorn Amulet.” Spike hugged himself and shivered. “Oh great. Don’t tell me it’s going to go crazy like Trixie and take over Ponyville, too.” Twilight’s expression tightened. “I certainly hope not.” She shifted the faceplate over to Spike. “Could you hold this for me? I need to concentrate for just a moment.” Twilight directed her horn at the light emanating from creature’s chest and let her magic descend upon its body. Detection spells, as she understood from her studies, required a delicate touch. It therefore helped to know ahead of time the basic components of a given creature or object. But this time Twilight was going in blind; even a rudimentary spell such as the one she was using had the potential for untold consequences. Twilight’s magic slinked closer to the light, and she could sense the strange energy it radiated. Despite it not giving off any apparent magic, the raw power was remarkable. The more Twilight focused, the more she felt like she was straining to look directly into a summer sun. Spike, fiddling idly with the faceplate, asked “What’s going on, Twi?” “I’m using a spell to see whether or not this creature indeed contains any magic.” Twilight let out a breath; a bead of sweat rolled down the side of her face. “Whew! This is a lot harder than I thought it would be. I’ll need to be careful.” “Careful?” “There’s nothing to be worried about. All I need to do is—” A loud pop fizzled in the air. The light in the creature’s chest flared, as did the aura around Twilight’s horn. Twilight gasped. “What was—?” The armor shrieked about being “back in black.” A discordant wave of screeching tones and words followed that almost sounded musical to Twilight. She jerked back and pressed a hoof against one of her ears. “Gah! What is that?!” Spike yelled as covered his head with the faceplate. “I have no idea!” Twilight groaned. “I think it’s some sort of message!” “Message?! You can understand it?!” “Don’t touch my stuff!” Twilight and Spike screamed when the creature shot upright, its forehead and Twilight’s face nearly colliding. Twilight staggered back onto her hind legs. They shouted again before crashing in a heap along the floor. All the while the strange noises from the creature continued reverberating throughout the barn. The creature did not notice the accident. Breathing rapidly for a few moments, the alien at last clasped a hand on the part of its head still encased in metal. After a few repeated smacks, the noise faded abruptly. “Whoa!” The creature slipped a hand over its eyes, shaking its head once. “That was a rush.” Twilight’s head bobbed from side to side. “You’re… you’re telling me.” The creature turned halfway to look at Twilight, who had only begun to regain her footing. Spike remained flat on the floor, his face completely covered by the metal mask. Muffled moans rose from beneath it. “Son of a bitch,” the creature muttered. “You’re a talking purple unicorn.” Twilight jumped at the sound of the creature's voice. She met its gaze and gawked, memories of their past if confused communication temporarily lost to her. “Of course,” the creature went on, “you may not strictly be a purple unicorn. Lavender, perhaps, is your preferred color. Or mulberry. Your call.” “You’re… awake…” Twilight said. Spike rose behind her, clutching the facemask close to his chest. The creature pointed a finger at Spike, who flinched at the gesture. “Is that mine?” “Uh…” Spike went blank for second, taking a deep swallow. “I was just, you know, having a look.” His eyes grew wider. “I was gonna give it back, I swear!” “No, no. That’s fine.” The creature gave what looked to Twilight and Spike to be a thumbs-up. “Keep it. I’ve got plenty of those at home. Hang it up on your wall and show your friends.” Spike did a double take. “Uh, really?” “Oh yeah. It’s cool. You’re cool.” The creature then hesitated. “Sorry, what are you, exactly? I mean, I get the whole unicorn thing—” “What in tarnation?!” All three shot a glance at the barn entrance where Applejack stood. Her teeth were clenched as she glared at the creature. She had adopted a lowered, defensive posture, the kind that signaled she was ready for a fight. “Twilight,” Applejack huffed out. Her tone was a near growl, a fusion of frustration and worry. “I heard an awful racket comin’ from in here all the way from the house. Why didn’t you say—?” “That one’s on me!” the creature called out, holding up its hands in mock surrender. “I thought I had my alarm set on snooze; guess it shorted out. I’ll fix it later.” Applejack squinted back at the creature. Her frown deepened. “What are you yammerin’ on about?” “Nothing terribly critical.” The creature’s lips twitched. “By the way, do all of you come with such cute accessories?” “What…?” Applejack’s mouth parted in bafflement. Then her gaze drifted upward to her hat. Making the connection, she stomped a hoof. “Now listen here, buster! This ain’t some ‘cute accessory’! I don’t care where you come from, ‘cause you’re gonna show some respect all the same!” The creature recoiled in response to Applejack’s outburst. It then bowed its head and said in an even voice, “I want you to know that, under any other circumstances, I would be terrified. I almost am, actually.” The creature broke out into a crooked smile. “Honestly, though, it’s like you’re part of some toy line for little girls and creepy shut-ins.” Applejack’s cheeks flushed. Chortling from Spike caused her face to grow hotter. “This guy’s actually pretty funny,” Spike said in-between giggles. “Creepy shut-ins.” He snickered. “That’s hilarious!” Smiling, the creature looked again to Twilight and Spike. “See? I’m not here for even a minute and I’ve got a fan.” “I get the sense that we’re getting off on the wrong hoof,” said Twilight, eying an ever more annoyed Applejack. “I think it’s best if we take a moment to properly introduce ourselves.” Twilight cleared her throat. “My name is Twilight Sparkle. These are two of my friends: Spike, my assistant, and Applejack.” Spike waved a claw. “Hiya!” “Howdy,” Applejack muttered sharply under her breath. Her tail flicked across the barn floor, kicking up some dirt. Following a brief silence, the creature extended a forelimb to Twilight. “Tony Stark. Let me say that it’s a pleasure to meet you and your friends.” Twilight stared at Stark’s gold and metallic hand. She raised a tentative forehoof. “Um, thank you, Mr. Stark.” Stark grasped Twilight’s hoof and gave it a firm shake. She let out a small yelp, caught off-guard by the strength of his grip and the cool of the metal. It was, strangely enough for Twilight, a simple hoofshake—or clawshake, perhaps, as she mentally calibrated her terminology. “So, I take it we’re in a barn,” Stark said to Twilight as he withdrew his hand. “Are these your digs?” “Come again?” Twilight asked. “Me and my family live here,” Applejack stated firmly. She then grumbled, “And you’ve already gone and made a mess of things as it stands.” Stark’s eyebrows furrowed. “I’m sorry, I don’t follow.” He let out a short, incredulous laugh. “I mean, no offense, but all of you are talking ponies.” Shooting a quick look at Spike, Stark added, “Except for you, little buddy, obviously. You’re a… well, whatever you are.” Spike puffed out his chest. “I’m a dragon!” Quickly the air went out of him as he looked down at his feet, dejected. “A baby dragon, anyway…” “And there is absolutely nothing wrong with that,” Stark said, suddenly and dramatically straight-faced. “Though I’ll admit, I have seen some crazy things recently, but a talking unicorn and a dragon—and I’ll have none of this baby dragon business…” Stark trailed off into another passing snicker. “Okay, yeah, I’d say this qualifies as insane—meaning, of course, I’m the one who’s losing it.” Twilight raised an eyebrow. “Mr. Stark, are you feeling all right? You seem to be a bit… scattered.” “I reckon the fall has somethin’ to do with it,” Applejack said, relaxing her shoulders. “You just about wiped out an entire apple orchard.” “Hold on. Back up for a moment.” Stark held up a palm. “You’re saying I fell into an apple orchard?” Twilight nodded. “You came out of a portal. You’re fortunate to be alive.” “Trust me when I say I’ve been through worse.” Stark hissed to himself in realization. “Whoa! Wait a second, wait a second. Sorry, but did you say I came through a portal?” Twilight again nodded. “Yes, Mr. Stark. A portal.” “And a mighty big one at that,” Applejack said. Stark’s lips curled into an ‘O’ shape. “Oh man. That can’t be good.” “What can’t be good?” Twilight sprang over closer to the table and locked a pleading gaze on Stark. “What is it, Mr. Stark? Is it something about that portal? Please, you have to tell me!” Stark stiffened upright, caught off-guard. “Relax, sweetie! I’m just, uh, trying to figure things out.” He gently coughed prior to forcing a smile to assuage her panic. “It’s a bit of a long, winding tale involving a really angry alien wizard who decided one day to stick it to his older brother by trying to conquer Earth. It’s a very, very messy story.” “See? I totally called it!” Spike, hopping up and down in place, sported an elated grin. Met with confused glares, he stopped jumping, placed a claw on his hip, and pouted indignantly. “I did call it, though.” “Give him credit where credit is due,” Stark said, giving Spike another thumbs-up. Twilight sighed and began massaging the side of her head with a hoof. “You mentioned a wizard before. Is he the one responsible for the portal?” “Uh, yes and no,” Stark said as he gingerly shifted his legs. The whirring of gears accompanied each movement. After Stark dangled his legs off of the side of the table, he heaved out a wheeze. “Give me a moment. I’m just a… little creaky here.” “Mr. Stark,” Twilight said, her voice rising in urgency, “it’s imperative that you tell me where you came from and how that portal opened. Equestria’s very existence may depend on what you know!” “Equestria?” Stark paused. “Okay, my first guess would’ve been ‘Unicorncopia’, but ‘Equestria’ makes sense.” Twilight’s cheeks went pink. “Please, I need you to focus!” “All right. No more kidding around. That was the last one. I promise.” Stark waved his hands through the air, as if to dismiss the unwanted tension. Sucking in a hard breath, he shifted on his seat. “Where to begin? To be honest, I don’t think there’s a really clear starting point. This whole thing evolved—or devolved—sort of organically.” Evidently searching for the best way to elaborate on the details, Stark went quiet. His newfound willingness to cooperate had helped calm Twilight to a point where she could at least think clearly again. She nonetheless felt a tinge of apprehension, as though he would abruptly burst into another line of rapid fire, tangential commentary if left unchecked. Stark had opened his mouth when Twilight spoke first. “Let’s start with something basic, then: Where are you from, Mr. Stark?” “Strictly speaking? I tend to move around a lot. I’ve been sort of hunkered down in New York recently.” Stark suddenly groaned and slapped his forehead. “Pepper is going to murder me for the property damage. She will literally put an end to me.” “So, I reckon you ain’t from anywhere ‘round these parts,” Applejack said as she maneuvered over by Twilight's side. “These parts bein’ all of Equestria.” Stark shook his head. “I’m afraid not, Applesmack.” “It’s Applejack,” Applejack stated flatly. “Applesmack.” Spike snorted, unfazed even under Applejack's glare. “Classic.” Twilight cleared her throat. “Let me rephrase the question. What is the name of your world?” “Nothing quite as colorful as Equestria, I assure you,” Stark said. “We just call it ‘Earth.’ Just saying it now makes me feel inadequate. Equestria. Asgard. They’re so much more—” Stark froze in midsentence, lips parted. “Oh crap.” Twilight’s nostrils flared. “Mr. Stark, what’s wr—” “Give me a moment here, honey.” Leaning over to Twilight, Applejack whispered, “This fella here sure is a strange one. I’m startin’ to think he might be a few bricks shy of a full load.” “Please, don’t gossip about me in front of my face,” Stark said in an offhand fashion. After tapping his fingers against his lips, he continued. “Okay, is it cool if I ask you a question? This may or may not be a fate of Earth or Equestria sort of thing. I only want to clear the air.” “Uh, sure?” Twilight replied. “All right. Here it goes.” Stark brought his hands together and inhaled. “Remember that evil wizard I mentioned, and how he and his brother—or stepbrother—need some serious family counseling?” Twilight faltered but eventually nodded. “I do. Sort of.” “Do the names Loki and Thor mean anything to you?” Twilight and Applejack gave each other perplexed looks. In quick succession the two of them shook their heads. “Nope. I got nothin’.” “I’m sorry, but they don’t.” After a click of the tongue, Stark emitted a single, bitter snort. “Wonderful. Figures that idiot would throw me halfway across the universe.” “Did the evil wizard try to banish you or something?” Spike asked. Stark’s expression lightened as he watched Spike waddle up alongside Twilight and Applejack. “Sort of. He kind of used my tech to power his artifact of doom; I tried to kick him out of my place. One wormhole later, I guess, I’m hanging out with you guys.” Twilight hummed in puzzlement. “But why Equestria? You mentioned that he—the wizard, I mean—wanted to take over your world.” “Yeah, that’s the tricky part,” Stark said, his voice uneasy. He tried to smirk, except it appeared as more of a grimace. “You see, this wizard, Loki, planned to hustle up a first-class ride for an army to Earth. After that—” Loud gagging off to the side interrupted Stark. It was Spike, who was pounding a fist against his own chest in some effort to clear his throat. He let out a loud belch, spewing out green flames that dissolved into a roll of paper wrapped in a red ribbon adorned by a gold seal. The scroll slowly descended upon the floor. Twilight snatched the paper out of midair. She unrolled the scroll and held it in front her face. Upon a quick scan, she said, “It’s from Princess Celestia.” Stark sported a mesmerized grin as his eyes followed the floating parchment. “Seriously, do you guys do parties?” Applejack, ignoring Stark, inched closer to Twilight. “I reckon it’s gonna be about what happened this morning.” “Let’s find out.” Twilight began reading from the scroll: “Dear Twilight, I trust that—” “Excuse me!” Stark piped up while raising his hand. “Yeah, sorry. Another quick question here: Princess Celestia?” “Oh, right!” Twilight lowered the scroll. “Princess Celestia is the co-ruler of Equestria. She and her sister, Princess Luna, are responsible for raising the sun and moon respectively.” Stark’s lips parted—but he stopped himself, snapping his mouth shut. “You know what? I’ll ask about that later. Please, continue.” Twilight nodded tepidly. “Um, sure…” She returned to the letter. “Dear Twilight, I trust that you are aware of the events that transpired above Equestria earlier this morning. I am pleased to inform you that nopony was hurt, and that Princess Luna and I have instructed assistance be given to areas most in need.” Applejack heaved a sigh of relief. “Thank heavens! Things sure did look pretty bad earlier.” Stark, looking to Spike, quietly mouthed “everypony” and “nopony” several times. The dragon only shrugged indifferently. “There’s more, though,” Twilight said, squinting in concentration. “Twilight, I request that you and your friends come to Canterlot as soon as possible. I also ask that you bring any notes you may have on portals and enchanted objects. There is still a good deal of work to be done, and I believe your knowledge and the assistance of your friends will help us uncover the cause of this manifestation. “I anticipate your arrival. Yours, Princess Celestia.” Applejack leaned further over Twilight’s shoulder to have a look at the parchment. “Is that everythin’, sugarcube?” Twilight’s eyes skimmed the letter once more. She then turned over the scroll and checked the back of it. “That’s it. The Princess didn’t write anything else.” “Okay, I’ve got two, maybe three follow-up questions.” Stark tapped his palm with each inquiry: “First, what’s Canterlot? Second, should I be referred to as ‘somepony,’ or is that in bad form? Third, why didn’t you tell me you were in good with royalty?” Twilight and Applejack were exchanging befuddled glances by the time Stark had finished speaking. Taking note of the hint of amusement in Stark’s voice, Twilight wondered to herself if he could ever be capable of accepting the seriousness of the situation. For a creature potentially stranded on a different world, Stark had the disposition of one who was either oblivious or willingly chose to ignore reality. Twilight was inclined to conclude the latter, but no measure of certitude could make her comfortable with Stark’s antics and erratic behavior. “Well,” Twilight started, “I can at least answer your first question. Canterlot is the capital of Equestria. It’s where Princess Celestia lives, along with Princess Luna.” “And as far as your third question goes,” Spike said, “Twilight here is Princess Celestia’s number one student.” “That sure is right!” Applejack hollered out of pride. “Twi’s the reason we all became friends and discovered the Elements of Harmony!” “Elements of Harmony?” Humored incredulity dripped from Stark’s voice. “Are you like some sort of indie band, too?” Twilight felt her ear twitch. Irritation had replaced the pleasant glow of embarrassment from the praise heaped upon her just moments earlier. “If by that you mean we’re a musical group, then no.” “Although you all do like to sing a lot sometimes,” Spike said, shooting Twilight and Applejack a knowing grin. “I mean, remember the Gala? You guys practically sang the entire way there!” Stark bobbed his head and pumped a fist in the air. “Party on, Wayne.” “The Elements of Harmony have nothing to do with music!” Twilight exclaimed. Struggling to regain her composure, she inhaled deeply, afterward letting out a breath. “Okay, okay. Time to refocus. We need to get to Canterlot as soon as possible. But first we’ll need to gather the others. I’ll also need to find the notes Princess Celestia requested…” Stark’s gaze followed Twilight as she began pacing back and forth, her speech devolving into muttering. “What’s the hold up?” Twilight halted abruptly in place, her back turned to everyone present, and squeezed her eyes closed. She had only wanted some time to plan—a task, to her mind, that eluded the alien prone to inane commentary. Twilight had barely swallowed her aggravation when she finally turned to face Stark. “Hold up?” “Yeah,” Stark said with a mild shrug. “Let’s go and meet your pony princesses.” He scooted forward on the wooden plank. “I’ll introduce myself, share my tale of woe, and I’m sure they can zap me with some sort of royal unicorn pony magic, if that’s a thing.” Once Stark’s feet thumped against the floor, he came to his full height. “Before you know it, I’ll be back on Earth, sipping on a latte as Fury cries himself to sleep. In fact, I bet he planned this from the start to get me out of his… nonexistent… hair.” Applejack placed herself in between Stark and the open barn entrance. “Hold your horses, pardner! You’re not goin’ anywhere!” Stark squinted at Applejack. “I'm sorry, are you placing me in protective custody? I feel that’s a bit of overkill.” “It’s more complicated than that, Mr. Stark,” said Twilight, apologetic. “Remember: nopony has ever seen you before. In fact, when we first found you, we thought you were some sort of monster.” Twilight sighed. “Moreover, the next train for Canterlot doesn’t leave until later today.” Stark rolled his eyes. “Public transportation is overrated.” The remark drew a scowl from Applejack. “Like it or not, it’s the only way we can all get to Canterlot. ‘sides, we’re liable to scare everypony half to death if we dragged you along.” Stark, holding his arms outstretched in feigned misery, said, “You really know how to cut a man straight to the heart, orange pony.” “For the last time, consarnit, my name is Applejack!” “Everypony, please!” Twilight shouted near the top of her lungs. Under the scrutiny of three stares, Twilight let her shoulders gently droop, her rush of anger subsiding. “Can we all please calm down? There’s a lot we have to figure out, and doing so means we need to work together.” Following a short pause, Applejack removed her hat and said, “You’re right, Twi. Sorry.” “A fair point that’s well taken,” said Stark, nodding. He clapped his hands together once. “I’m open to a plan, so long as it ends with me back at home. This barn isn’t going to cut it.” Immediately he raised a defensive hand at Applejack as response to her glare. “No offense to you and your lovely environs.” “I agree with you, Mr. Stark,” Twilight said, moving over next to Applejack. “Keeping you here at Sweet Apple Acres isn’t a solution: it’s not fair to you or to the Apple Family. And we’ll need you with us in Canterlot to share your knowledge of the artifact that brought you and to figure out some way to return you home.” Stark folded his arms. “Yet another fine reason, I think, to get moving.” Cupping his chin in thought, he murmured aloud, “You all need to take the train, yeah? What if I went on ahead and you caught up with me in Canterlot?” Confused, Twilight blinked. “Um, what?” Applejack emitted a soft, if uneasy, chuckle. “The only other way to get to Canterlot would be to fly—and you ain’t got any wings on that clunky armor of yours.” Grinning smugly, Stark said, “Then you might want to take a step or two back, pardner.” Stark, squaring his shoulders, marched past Applejack and Twilight. The two ponies watched warily as he moved toward the center of the barn. Spike had taken heed of Stark’s warning and shuffled closer to his friends, remaining near them so that he could have their protection at a moment’s notice without losing sight of Stark. Twilight, taking one stride closer to Stark, bit her lower lip. “Mr. Stark, what is it exactly that you’re planning to do?” “This might be a bit choppy at first,” Stark said to himself. He sucked in a deep breath and shook out his arms. “JARVIS, are you with me? Or are you still on vacation?” Receiving no response, he began tapping the side of his helmet. “Guess you’re a no-show. Again. Whatever. Basic low-altitude flight systems should still be operational.” “Flight?” Twilight repeated. Concerned though she was, she felt a gentle prick of general curiosity. “You can fly?” “You’ll see for yourself.” Stark craned his head upwards, priming his fists at his sides. “Canterlot’s on, what, the first or second left after Trottingham?” “Wha–” Applejack gaped. “How’d you know ‘bout Trottingham?” Stark winked impishly at the group. “Just a hunch.” An uneven roar erupted from Stark’s armor once his repulsors burst to life. The sudden wash of air and dirt forced the ponies and Spike to cover their faces. Applejack struggled to keep her hat firmly planted on her head. The barn’s support columns and walls creaked under the newfound tension. For his own part Stark felt a wave of relief in being able to fire his repulsors on the first go. The manual systems were already imprecise. He could likewise remember the beating his suit suffered in the battle with Loki. Those two factors combined had left him with a palpable sense of doubt. But as Stark gradually lifted off the floor, his confidence likewise rose. Besides, as far as his ego was concerned, an opportunity to show off in front of the alien ponies was a grand thing in and of itself. Asgard and Equestria had their magic; Tony Stark could build a flying armored suit—from a box of scraps, if need be. So long as he could help it, he would not be reduced to a second fiddle. The repulsors held steady. Stark flashed a toothy grin, hovering triumphantly in place, disregarding Twilight and Applejack’s panic-stricken expressions. “Yeah, I can fly!” The boast was immediately countered by a dying whine from the repulsors. The white flames they emitted wavered before completely flaring out. Stark bellowed in shock as he crashed onto his back. The sounds of metal chips clinked and clattered all around him. “Mr. Stark!” Twilight, Applejack, and Spike rushed over to the now prone Stark. All three looked over him, openmouthed and gazes wide. “Mr. Stark!” Twilight repeated, her voice scratchy. “Are you okay?” Stark’s spine burned with pain. He moaned feebly. “Okay. That didn’t work out… the way I had hoped.” “Well…” Applejack’s eye wrinkled in her search for words. “That there was, uh, certainly somethin’.” “I’ll tell you what that was,” Spike said, grinning. “That was awesome!” “And noisy,” Applejack retorted. “I swear, that display was loud enough to wake a hibernatin’ bear in the dead of winter.” “I guess there’s just no pleasing everyone,” Stark said. “Or everpony.” With a lick of his lips he turned to Twilight, who continued to stare at him, both astonished and alarmed. “Wanna play tie-breaker? A 66 percent approval rating is pretty good these days.” “Applejack!” Whatever reply Twilight might have mustered was preempted by the shrill screeching of her friend’s name from beyond the barn door entrance. “Huh. That sounded like Granny Smith,” Spike said, peering at the door. Applejack yelped. “Oh no!” She turned away from the group and barreled over toward the entranceway. “If Granny sees this one here, she’s liable to have a conniption!” Stark appeared dismayed mostly for his own amusement. “This one? It’s like I’m not even a real person.” Stark’s comments fell on deaf ears. Applejack had managed to reach the doorway when she was greeted by the sight of Granny Smith hobbling alongside Big McIntosh, both on course for the barn. Applejack glanced over her shoulder and whispered, “Twilight, find somewhere to hide Mr. Stark!” She turned back around to give her family a weak wave. “Granny Smith! Big Mac! Uh, what’re y’all doin’ out here?” Granny Smith came skidding to a halt in front of the doorway, as did Big Mac. “We heard an awful racket comin’ from this here barn is what! I was in the kitchen, makin’ some breakfast for y’all, when all of a sudden there came this terrible roar.” Granny began waving her forelegs in the air dramatically. “The whole dang house was shakin’ floor to ceilin’! Ain’t that right, Big Mac?” Big Mac nodded. “Eeyup.” “Why, ain’t that a hoot!” Applejack exclaimed. Beads of sweat were already forming on her forehead. “We barely heard a thing. Must’ve been some kind of stampede. But nothin’ ‘round here.” She shot another quick but desperate look over her shoulder to Twilight, who lingered near Stark. “Right, Twi? Nothin’ ‘round here.” Granny Smith leaned ahead, trying to peer into the barn. “Hmm. Didn’t sound like no stampede I’ve ever heard.” Applejack matched her movements by tilting her head whichever direction Granny looked. The older mare squinted at Applejack in response. “It’s true I’m a mite old, and my hearin’ ain’t what it was, but I coulda sworn that roarin’ came from inside this barn.” Sweating profusely, Applejack scrunched her lips. “Heh heh. Might’ve been termites? Or birds nestin’, always up in the rafters!” Big Mac lifted a brow. “Nnnope.” “Applejack,” Twilight spoke up, trotting over to the doorway. “I understand why you’re doing this, but it isn’t necessary. Sooner or later they’re bound to find out. We’d just delay the inevitable.” “Bound to find out what?” Granny Smith asked, casting a vigilant eye upon Twilight. Applejack exhaled loudly, at last wiping the cumulative sweat from her eyebrows. “I reckon you’re right on this one, Twi. Better late than never, I guess.” “Dangnabbit! Y'all bein’ more elusive than a couple of field mice on a summer afternoon!” Granny Smith scowled. “I’m waitin’ for answers, the both of you!” Twilight nodded politely at Granny Smith. “There’s something—or someone—we’d like to show you. He may look very different from us, but he’s actually quite friendly and more than able to communicate.” Twilight stepped aside to grant a better view for the Apple Family. With a hint of elation she announced, “Granny Smith, Big McIntosh—I’d like for you to meet Tony Stark, of Earth.” Only after speaking did Twilight turn and see that Stark had shifted position: he reclined on one side, grinning, using his fist to prop up his head. He appeared to Twilight as an entitled pony might in front of an adoring audience. All the while Spike stood off to the side, rubbing the back of his head in confusion. “So I heard talk of breakfast earlier,” said Stark, who whiffed the air. He arched an eyebrow in a combination of recognition and delight. “Are those… flapjacks I smell? I’ll take mine gluten-free, if you don’t mind. A good diet is always important—especially when on the road.” Twilight’s jaw hung open. Granny Smith and Big Mac followed suit, more confused than aghast. For Applejack’s part, she quietly slid the brim of her hat over her eyes in vain hope of warding off the situation altogether. But none of their responses could undo Stark’s wide smile. No matter the world or reality, Tony Stark remained the master of first impressions. Rainbow Dash stretched herself out across her bed, only half-awake in the morning hours. There could be no high-octane tricks, no dreams of joining the Wonderbolts without a full-night’s rest. She knew she needed every ounce of energy to remain the top flyer in Equestria. In her mind Dash hazily envisioned practicing her newest routine once she got up. For now, however, Rainbow let out a yawn. She curled herself back into a near ball. Awesome adventures and daring new tricks could wait a few more hours, along with the prospect of a late afternoon nap. Thump. Dash’s head jerked up at the sudden sound, sending one of her pillows flying from the bed. She looked to her bedroom window: the morning sunlight barely pierced through her curtains made of clouds. “What the hay?” As the seconds went by, Dash remained upright and alert. Distant bird songs from Equestria below were all she heard. She at last settled down into her bed, keeping one half-open eye on the window. The warmth of Rainbow’s soft sheets, however, began to lull her back into the sweet groove of sleep. Then there was another thump that had Rainbow up and looking around again. Soon afterward the energetic cry of a familiar party pony beckoned her from just beyond the window. “Good morning, Rainbow Dash!” Rainbow flopped onto her back and groaned. Pinkie Pie’s unmistakable silhouette was visible even through the curtains. Rubbing her tired eyelids, Rainbow pulled herself off of her bed and floated lazily over to the window. Whatever hope she had for dozing off for the rest of the morning had been lost. Dash reached for the curtains when Pinkie yanked them apart and stuck her head inside. “Oh good! You’re awake!” Pinkie floated backwards on a bundle of balloons wrapped around her body, allowing Rainbow space near the windowsill. She clutched a pogo stick with her legs. “For a moment I thought I woke you up from a nice, deep, cozy sleep!” “Actually, Pinkie, you kinda did,” Dash grumbled. “Well, that’s still okay because a certain somepony thought you might be a teensy bit grumpy this morning and came prepared.” Pinkie then reached behind herself and produced a steaming muffin on a plate. “And that somepony was me! I made this myself, just for you, because breakfast is the most important meal of the day—right after dessert!” “That’s… cool, Pinkie. Thanks.” Rainbow accepted the muffin and set it off to the side, stifling a yawn. “Look, no offense, but could we maybe hang out later? I’d let to go back and get some more shuteye.” “Sure thing!” Pinkie’s grin faltered only slightly when she continued. “Oh, but first you might wanna pick up that hammer you dropped outside.” It took a moment for Dash’s eyes to widen. “Huh? I didn’t drop any hammers.” “Sure you did!” Pinkie said, shaking her tail. “I got a super-duper twitch today that was definitely you dropping a hammer. I even said to myself, ‘Hmm. I think Rainbow Dash might’ve dropped her hammer and forgot all about it!’ I’d be a terrible friend if I didn’t tell you. That’s why I came over. And the muffin. Make sure to eat it before it gets cold and stale!” Dumbstruck, Rainbow murmured, “But I don’t even own a hammer.” “Well now you do! Congratulations!” Pinkie swung a foreleg upward as confetti and streamers exploded from the balloons. She nudged nearer to Rainbow Dash. “Wanna go see it? Huh? Huh?” Rainbow leaned back slightly, minding the narrowing gap between herself and Pinkie. “Sure, I guess. Where is it?” “I already told you, silly! It’s just outside your house. Where else would it be? You dropped it.” “But I didn’t—” “Uh uh.” Pinkie held up a hoof to silence Dash. Her smile gave way to a serious and intense stare. “My Pinkie Sense is never, ever wrong.” “Ugh! Fine!” Dash exclaimed as she flapped her wings open. “Let’s go see this stupid hammer that I know I didn’t drop because I don’t have one.” Pinkie remained visibly unamused. Suddenly, she giggled. “Okie dokie lokie!” Dash bolted out the window and past Pinkie, whose balloons spun around in the gust created by Rainbow’s wake. Once high in the sky Dash began scanning the nearby landscape. “If this is some sorta weird prank, I’m gonna get you back—” Rainbow came to an abrupt stop when she spotted the enormous crater beneath her home. Tiny coils of smoke rose from the impact area. Even from such a high altitude she could make out the unmistakable glint of a giant metal mallet at the center of the hole. Its long handle leaned out of the ground, wrapped in a brown fabric and caked with soil. Of one thing Dash was certain, having left behind enough craters in her time: that mallet had hit the earth hard and fast. Rainbow entered a steep dive, coming to a stop well above the hole. She caught sight of electrical sparks arcing across the hammer’s handle. The mere prospect of a colossal, nigh indestructible thunderbolt-charged hammer sitting in her backyard sent her hairs standing on end. “Whoa…!” “Told ya there was a hammer!” Pinkie called out while descending slowly next to Rainbow. “Although I might’ve been a bit off, because now that I think about it, the twitch I got was actually more like two and a half twitches and a shake, which means a big hammer is going to fall out of the sky.” She sighed, dejected. “Sorry, Dashie. I guess this hammer wasn’t yours after all.” “I guess not.” Dash turned to Pinkie, unable to hold back a grin. “But it’s definitely mine now!”