//------------------------------//
// War! 
// Story: Namby Pamby's Revenge 
// by Booker Longlegs 
//------------------------------//

	Featherweight watched helplessly as the Foal Free workers got themselves worked up into a frenzy. It was three days since the party, and the fully recovered group had come to Featherweight demanding answers. He had reluctantly told them everything he knew, and now they were all riled up. They were currently debating on what they should do.
“I say we poison her crew with Cuteonium!” shouted a printer.
“No, that’s not fair to the crew,” argued a reporter, “It was her plan, so she should be the one we hit!” The argument continued for several more minutes, with everypony having their own suggestions. Featherweight couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows at some of them. Either those ponies had really hated the experience, or they had some vicious imaginations. Eventually, the expected conclusion happened. It was agreed that they’d print the information in the paper and “ruin that she-devil’s reputation.” The group rushed out toward the schoolhouse, with Featherweight bringing up the rear.
As they came closer, Featherweight was trying to come up with ways to soften the blow for Namby. Unfortunately, all he could really do was use the version of the story that was least vindictive, and considering the mob’s behavior, that wasn’t going to mean a whole lot. He was still racking his brain when he bumped into the pony in front of him. Confused, he looked ahead and saw the schoolhouse. The entire group seemed to have stopped in front of it. He pushed his way forward and was met by one of the strangest things he’d ever seen.
The entire front lawn of the school had been converted into a war zone. There were trenches dug, barbed wire everywhere, and spiked walls. Right in front of the door was a command center, and in the command center sat Namby Pamby. She looked disheveled; her eyes were bloodshot, her mane was a mess, and she looked a bit crazed. “Namby!” Featherweight called, “What are you doing?”
“I’ve spent the last three days trying to find who really did it!” Namby called back, “Trying to clear my name! But, I’ve got nothing! I have no idea who spiked the punch, and last night I decided I didn’t want to hang for someone else’s crime! So, I came here and prepared all of this for you,” She gestured at the defenses, “Good luck trying to print that story now!” She started laughing, and Featherweight came to the conclusion that she’d had a nervous breakdown.
“Any doubt I might have had that you’re the culprit was just erased, Namby!” screamed one of the reporters, “Come on, everypony! Let’s get her!”
“Wait!” Featherweight cried, but the group had already charged into the battlefield. Namby ducked behind her fortifications, then emerged wearing a general’s hat, a couple of pouches, and riding a bicycle. She rode toward the defensive line and began patrolling it. When the attackers hit the line, they tried tearing down the fortifications, but as soon as they did, Namby started throwing newspapers at them from the pouches. Her aim was deadly accurate, and she threw them like a machine gun. Soon enough, the attackers had fallen back against the relentless assault.
Featherweight stood there, looking angry. “So, how did that go?” The group looked around shamefully at each other. “Did any of you even listen to what Namby had to say?”
“Yeah, she set all this up to stop us!” said the head of production, “That proves she did it!”
“Before that.”
“Oh,” the production head looked uncomfortable, “Ummm….”
“She said,” Featherweight enunciated carefully, “That she was trying to clear her name.” Understanding dawned in everypony’s eyes. “Now, why would she say that and do something this incriminating? Because she’s freaking out about being falsely branded saboteur.” At that moment, Namby’s insane laughter could be heard. Huh. Featherweight thought, Convenient.
The group thought about it, and now that they’d calmed down they could see the logic. Those who knew Namby could also see now that she wouldn’t have spiked the punch. Featherweight took a look around to be sure everypony was listening. “Okay,” he said, “I’m going to talk to Namby alone.” 
He advanced to the defensive line, careful to stay out of throwing range. “Namby! Can we talk?”
“Why, so you can distract me while your friends break through the line?” Namby said, “I don’t think so!” She pulled out a button and, laughing maniacally, pushed it. All along the line, automated defense turrets sprang up. They locked onto Featherweight, and all of them shot newspaper at him. He yelped, and made a hasty retreat.
“She’s too far gone!” Featherweight said in despair.
“What do we do?” asked the photographer.
“Maybe if we solve the mystery,” Featherweight said slowly, “she’ll calm down. Edit, we need to review the facts.” He paused. “Edit?” He scanned the crowd, realizing Edit was nowhere to be found. Everything clicked into place. “Edit!” Featherweight yelled. He ran back onto the battlefield. “Namby, I figured it out! Edit’s the guilty one!”
“Another trick, eh?” Namby said, “Maybe I should-“ At that point, three days of no sleep caught up to her, and she passed out. Featherweight stared for a second, then shrugged.
“That works,” He turned to his crew. “Alright, half of you open up the school again, the rest come with me.” The group split up, and Featherweight led the way to Edit’s house. He was just walking out of the door with a travel sack when Featherweight and the rest came into view. He turned tail and ran for it. Featherweight and the other pegasi took to the skies. They quickly caught up and surrounded Edit.
“Why’d you do it, Edit?” Featherweight asked.
“I was trying to get rid of the competition!” Edit said, “Honestly, you should be thanking me!”
“Edit,” Featherweight said slowly, “We run a school newspaper. Namby has an actual newspaper which is how she supports herself. You were willing to ruin a pony’s life for a business you’ll only be a part of for a few years.” Edit shifted uncomfortably, and Featherweight continued, “Speaking of school, you’re still in it. What were you hoping to do after running away?”
Edit opened his mouth, paused, and then said, “Curse logic. Logic and hindsight.”