You sigh as you look over your vast collection of cars. You probably should've seen it coming, but the girls quickly chose to watch something else. After some browsing, they found a show they actually wanted to watch. Some cartoon about six dragons that solve problems through the power of friendship. Apparently it was pretty good, but you personally didn't care for it.
Suddenly, your phone buzzes. You pull it out and see that you have a new message from your friend:
Check out the news, asap
This sounds important. Going back into the living room, you tell the girls that you need to check on something real quick. They groan in disappointment slightly when you pause the show and change the TV to the news, but otherwise don't seem to mind.
On the screen, a variety of clips showing street racing are displayed, with a newswoman talking over them.
"-despite their best efforts, the street racing epidemic has been on the rise in recent years, with several police departments forced to use measures that critics see as excessive. However, following the incident in Redview County-"
The screen changed to show an aerial view of a country road. A sports car drove by, tailed by almost a dozen police cars, until the racer managed to slam into traffic at an intersection. The police were following too closely, and also smashed into traffic, causing a massive pileup, with several civilian cars involved. In the confusion, the street racer managed to get his mangled car away, while the cops futilely tried to continue pursuit.
"-several police departments have requested assistance from the federal level. Here to speak on the matter is Director Anderson, of the FBI."
That gets your attention. You lean closer to the screen as it changes to show a middle-aged man standing at a podium. A ticker at the bottom of the screen tells you all that this is live.
"It has come to our attention that illegal street racers are getting more bold, more numerous, and more dangerous," he begins, his voice mildly angry. "At this very moment, several cities and counties across the nation are falling short in trying to combat this. Palmont, Rockport, Fairhaven, Seacrest, Redview, Paradise... The list goes on."
He takes a second to adjust himself. "With this in mind, starting tomorrow, the FBI will be dispatching several special vehicle response teams to these locations, and more, in an effort to finally crush this street racing epidemic." He speech was starting to get more heated, and he looked directly at the camera. "To all you... punks who think you have free roam over the roads... your time is up."
The crowd on the TV erupted into applause, before the camera went back to the studio. The newscasters kept talking about the issue, but you had already heard enough. You absentmindedly turn the TV off, while the girls have confused looks on their faces.
"Wait, what exactly does that mean?" Dash asks.
"It means that my life is about to get a whole lot harder," you answer.
You pull out your phone and answer your friend's text.
Yeah, that's bad
The feds are gonna be all over you, you know
I'll manage
When you put your phone away, you finally notice that Twilight isn't with the rest of the girls. Weird, how did you not notice that when you first walked in?
"So where's Twilight?" you ask them.
"She's looking at one of your books," Applejack said. "Think she said it was an... 'atlas'?"
Curious, you go into the kitchen, where Twilight is carefully studying an open page in what is indeed an atlas. The page she was on showed the entire United States, but it seemed like she was only focusing on the east coast. Occasionally, you see her forehead just barely flicker with purple magic, but it's so fast that if you blinked, you'd miss it.
"Whatcha got there?" you question her, making her jump in her chair.
"Oh, sorry, you scared me." She looks back at the map. "I've been trying to figure something out. Basically, I could theoretically cast a spell to get all of us home, even in this form, but we both know that I can't really do that without something going horribly wrong. However, I can 'sense' magic just fine, even across vast distances, and while there is almost no magic at all here, I'm detecting a spot somewhere south of here that has slightly more magic than usual. Still barely any, but just a bit more."
Honestly, most of what she just said went over your head, but you still nod as if you understood. "So if we find... wherever that is, you think you and the others can make it home?"
"That's the idea." Her forehead flickers again, and she traces her finger farther down the map. "I'm trying to narrow down where it could be, but I'm having a hard time of doing so. Unless..."
Suddenly, her forehead glows a bit more intensely, and for longer than before. You're about to warn her about what happened last time, when she cuts it off abruptly, clutching her head in pain. Still, there's a faint smile on her face. "It's six hundred and forty miles south of here... give or take."
With this newfound knowledge, she once again traces her finger on the map, starting at Fairhaven, then slowly tracing her way down, one eye on the map's scale. Eventually, her finger comes to a stop down in Florida, and she removes her finger to see the name of the closest city.
When you see it, your eyes widen slightly. "Paradise City?"
Twilight nods. "It looks that way." She looks at you. "Why? Is there a problem with that?"
"A couple. First of all, the drivers down in Paradise are even crazier than we are up here. Hell, even the cops are insane, I'm pretty sure."
Her eyes widen at that, but you keep going. "Plus, I just found out that the feds are cracking down on street racers, and starting tomorrow they're gonna be here to help."
Her eyes cast down. "Well, it was just an idea..."
"I didn't say I couldn't get you there."
Your words make her spring up in excitement. "Really? Even with-"
"Yes, even with the added heat."
She looks incredibly grateful to you, before shaking her head. "Right, we need to tell the others, then."
You nod. "I'll need to get some things set up on my end, too."
She goes to the living room to inform the girls, and you go to your garage. Only a select few of your cars could fit seven people, counting yourself, and both of the ones that could are still pretty beat up...
Of course, you could always take two cars...
You file the idea away for later. For now, you just have to worry about current events. You've heard rumors about the FBI's Vehicle Response Team, and none of them are good. They've rarely been dispatched before, but very few managed to get away when they were, and often through sheer luck.
There's a storm coming, and you're about to drive into the middle of it.