//------------------------------//
// Chapter 49: Domino Theory 
// Story: Brother Against Sister 
// by CartsBeforeHorses 
//------------------------------//

Tall Tale

In the back room of Discount Liquids, papers, letters, and diagrams covered the table that Zarek, Zecora, Berry Punch, and Discount sat around.

Zarek sighed, the pampas grass sheath between his teeth shrinking as he gnawed like a hungry panda bear.

“I don’t understand. We’ve worked on this plan for months. Everything is in place, and the time to strike is within a week… yet some of you still have doubts!?” Zarek shouted. The ceiling lights flickered.

Zecora motioned with her hoof for Zarek to calm down. “Patience, Zarek. The time to strike is not just yet. We’ve lost the navy, and many ground troops. Our plan’s feasibility is now in dispute.”

“And why are you doing those stupid rhymes again? I thought I broke you of that,” Zarek scoffed. “If I can quit smoking, you can quit rhyming. We need to get Tall Tale back into Equestria immediately.”

Discount said, “Sorry, Zarek, but Zecora’s right. Have you been following the news, lately? Ever since Twilight and Luna were dethroned, everypony’s jumping ship. Mareicopa, Dodge Junction, the Navy… At this rate, even if our plan succeeds, there might not even be an Equestria left to go back to!”

“That’s why we should go with my plan, the only way that zebras and ponies can peacefully coexist in Tall Tale,” said Berry Punch. “We declare a secular, independent city like Mareicopa.”

Zarek said, “There won’t be a ‘Free Tall Tale’ or a ‘Free Vanhoover,’ because those movements are patently illegal. Under Equestrian law, only democratic secessions like Cloudsdale’s are recognized. I don’t see any elections in Dodge or Mareicopa. All I see there are lawless terrorists, no different from Zaporizhia. But the Equestrian Republic has elections coming up in November. Votes are the true way to ensure peace in Tall Tale after we rejoin, and ensure the zebra population feels represented. We need the rule of law.”

“You know, for a lawyer, you sure didn’t care about the rule of law when cops were killed in Manehattan during the coup. You don’t care about parliament’s monarchy abolition ‘vote’ held at gunpoint,” said Berry Punch. Then, she slapped her forehead. “Oh, wait! I forgot! You’re a defense attorney! You defend thugs like the Encampment, so they can leech off of successful, taxpaying businessponies like me.”

“Taxpaying? That’s hysterical, tax cheat,” said Zarek, laughing. “All people deserve a good defense, and our justice system has been far too cruel. Twilight Sparkle and Luna were unjust leaders who interned and shot their own people. But President Dash and Justice Minister Raindrops will clean up the entire process. They’ll end police brutality, give suspects due process, make our prisons rape-free, and abolish capital punishment. We all know what happens when we rush to judgment, right Zecora?”

“Yes, we do. And thus, our plan should not go through.”

“And what do you propose instead?” asked Zarek. “If we miss this window of opportunity, we may never have another chance. Once the power goes off, that’s our time.”

The four partisans jolted with surprise as the door to the back room swung open. There stood a silvery-maned zebra wearing a black suit and tie. He was flanked by three stocky zebra guards, similarly dressed.

He said, “Greetings. I am the Reverend Zeberene, and I have come to prevent your violent acts. It is best if you come with me quietly.”

Zarek glanced at Zecora, who glanced back in stunned silence. Discount trembled. Berry Punch’s jaw hung open. The back room of Discount Liquids only had a single door, which now was being blocked by four zebras… and those were just the ones they could see. None of the four partisans had any weapons on them; they were all kept in Discount’s safe which was locked at the moment.

So, with no other option, the four silently got up out of their seats. The zebras escorted them out of the liquid store.





A grand zebra church stood near downtown Tall Tale, its grey brick facade covered in moss and vines, its spire towering into the air. Stained glass windows projected colorful moonlight into the inside, down the rows of pews carved of pinewood. The electric lights on the streets outside flickered and dimmed.

Zecora, Zarek, Discount, and Berry Punch walked down the aisle, between the pews. Behind them, two of the muscular zebras stood, while in front, the third guard walked with Zeberene. Zecora looked at the church in admiration, while Zarek looked on in disgust. Berry Punch’s eyes glanced furtively ahead towards the reverend. Discount’s face had a blank expression.

The eight of them were the only occupants of the church this late in the evening. The reverend reached the altar, then turned to face them. 

“Who are you? Why have you brought us here?” Berry Punch demanded.

“Quiet, Berry Punch!” Zarek snapped. “Anything you say can be used against us in court.”

Reverend Zeberene chuckled, smiling. “I am not your adversary, my children. I’m here to help you overthrow Zaporizhia.”

Zecora blinked. “I am confused. In the liquid store, you said that you—”

“—Wanted to stop you from violence, correct,” said Zeberene. “Our city has already been through so much strife in the past several years. We have suffered from shelling, internment, race riots, wars, and brutal occupation by religious authorities.”

“You’re one to talk,” Zarek snapped. “The holy harlequins have ruined this city! Secularism is the bedrock of any modern state!”

“You are correct, my son,” said Reverend Zeberene. “Zaporizhia does not represent the true tenets of Zebrism. I lead the Doves, an underground sect with millions of secret practitioners who believe in nonviolence and pacifism. The scripture has been twisted by the unholy Zaporizhia. He is a false messiah, an agent of Chaos, who leads the flock astray from God’s path of peace with his violent divisiveness. Zebras are meant to coexist peacefully with all other races, for God loves all of his children.”

“That’s just dandy, but words don’t matter against armed zealots,” said Berry Punch.

“For once, I agree with Berry Punch,” said Zarek. “As a lawyer, I would never leave this city defenseless against the religious police.”

“Self-defense is always permitted, provided it isn’t excessive,” Zeberene clarified. “Armed deacons always guard our secret Dove worship services. As an agent of Chaos, Zaporizhia must himself be killed and returned to the underworld. However, your plan to poison hundreds of religious police was, in my view, excessive. They are merely deceived hoofsoldiers, and must be shown mercy and forgiveness, not death. They must be shown God’s true path of peace. Surely an attorney can appreciate the need for mercy towards criminals, Mister Zarek?”

Zarek reluctantly nodded.

“How did you find out about our plan, when Zapp hasn’t?” asked Discount.

Zeberene chuckled. “Ah, but you assume that Zaporizhia doesn’t suspect your plan. He grew suspicious once you became his sole chameleon potion supplier. The police planned to raid Discount Liquids this evening. Had I not arrived, you would’ve been arrested. But thank God, the Doves intercepted his intelligence cables.”

Zecora blinked. “That was quite a close call. As I had feared, our plan would have failed after all.”

Zarek blushed slightly.

Berry Punch sighed. “But how will we stop the religious police? How will we take Zapp’s forces out without violence? And don’t just say ‘God will show us the way;’ some of us here are atheists.”

Zeberene smiled. “My new plan should satisfy even the staunchest unbeliever. I shall explain.”





Dodge Junction

The normally bustling Dodge Junction was eerily quiet. The sidewalks and streets were nearly empty, and no trains traveled through the town. Outside of the police station, piles of tires and sandbags sat, covered in barbed wire. Banners hung from them, scrawled in anti-Encampment slogans. On the outskirts of town, pickup trucks blocked the roads, flying yellowjacket flags. Machine gun-wielding ponies manned the checkpoints, only letting certain vehicles pass. The militants’ numbers had grown to several dozen, and they now had newer weapons and bulletproof vests taken from the police station.

In the town square, a few hundred-strong crowd stood, an exception to the quiet. Cherry Jubilee, a cream-colored, middle-aged mare with a burgundy mane, pink ascot around her neck, and makeup caked on her face stood.

She addressed the crowd with a megaphone, “Dodge Junction won’t fall to Manehattan. We won’t submit our orchards or hospitals to collective ownership, or our mines to closure. We won’t submit our social order to upside-down notions of ‘equality.’ As the new, Ponies’ Mayor, I won’t abide it!”

The crowd cheered.

“Join the Pony Peace Patrol at the police station!” Cherry Jubilee implored. “Grab a gun and stop the looter hordes from consumin’ our proud city! Defend yourself from scum like this!”

A stallion marched a donkey up onto the stage, poking a rifle into his back.

Cherry Jubilee pointed her hoof at him accusingly. “This thievin’ ass was caught in my cherry orchards, pluckin’ fruit from the trees!”

The crowd booed.

The donkey pleaded, “It was for my starving fam—”

The stallion slammed his rifle butt into the donkey’s back. The crowd cheered. 

“In the old, weaker Dodge, the ass would’ve gotten a small fine that he’d have never paid, or would’ve leeched off of the taxpayers in jail. But Hollow Shades and Manehattan showed us that thieves and looters prevail when crime is tolerated. So now, the ass will pay with his blood, with five lashes from the Ponies’ Punisher!”

A bulky unicorn masked in a black hood walked up onto the stage, a whip floating in his magic, as he tied the donkey to a post. 

The crack of the whip and the donkey’s cries of pain were punctuated by cheers from the crowd as blood dripped onto the stage. After the donkey’s whipping, he was untied and set free, but collapsed onto the stage and had to be carried off.





Manehattan

Pound Cake and Rainbow Dash sat in the presidential office, a phone in Rainbow’s hoof.

“This is treason!” yelled Rainbow Dash into the receiver, gritting her teeth. “I can’t believe you’d betray me, AJ, and betray Equestria. I can’t believe you’d take Fluttershy hostage. I thought we all were friends, but I guess you’re only loyal to money!”

Applejack said through the phone, “I ain’t friends with liars or pretenders, Dash. Y’all are a bunch of thugs: chasin’ out Princess Twilight and Luna, then declarin’ yourselves and your hoodlum buddies the new government. My own brother chased me out of the orchard in Horseshoe Bay, took my job and home. Now they’re tryin’ to shut down the mines and orchards here in Dodge Junction. But we ain’t gonna let you!”

Pound Cake laughed, then spoke into the receiver. “Pretenders? The Encampment had months-long rallies of tens of thousands, and we earned parliament’s support. You have, what, a couple dozen terrorists with machine guns? You’re just a speciesist hate group who showed up and declared yourselves ‘Pony Sheriff’ and ‘Pony Mayor.’ You mock our movement and mock democracy. Tell me again, who’s the thugs? Who’s really playing make-believe?”

On Applejack’s end, Silverstar said, “Y’all are just fascists like Blueblood, ‘cept you ain’t unicorns. The basic ideals are the same, though: y’all think it’s okay to steal anythin’ as long as you ‘need’ it more than the rightful owners. Pound Cake, I’m disappointed in you, son. Together, we fought fascists who came to steal Appleloosa’s apples. But now, you send your union thugs to take the Oranges’ orchards in Horseshoe Bay. You send them here to Dodge to shut down our mines and steal our cherries!”

“Yeah, but you take hostages,” Rainbow Dash responded. “You hold the environment hostage with your mines. You hold your employees hostage with lousy working conditions. What’s more important: a pony’s life, or profit? Fluttershy is a true friend. I’ll never let you harm her!”

Pound added, “Rainbow might not be the flyer she used to be, but if you hurt Fluttershy, I swear that me and Rainbow will come double rainboom your podunk militia into ashes!”

“We ain’t gonna hurt Fluttershy if y’all cooperate. She was my friend once, too,” said Applejack. “You and your cabal step down, return the Princesses to power, then we’ll return Fluttershy unharmed.”

“We don’t negotiate with terrorists!” Pound shouted. Rainbow motioned for him to lower his voice, and took the hoofset. 

“The princesses can’t come back,” she clarified. “Nobody supports them anymore. They were tyrants, just like you’re being in Dodge Junction. They shot unarmed protesters.”

Silverstar chuckled. “Everypony with a brain under their ears knows what really happened that night in Manehattan. We know about those sniper rifles stolen from JSUC. If y’all were unarmed, why were police shot dead, too? Why were the bullets flyin’ towards the rioters from the library that the Equals had occupied? I was a sheriff for more’n twenty years, and the accounts just don’t add up. Why ain’t there been an official investigation yet? No ballistics? No forensics? Is it ‘cause y’all don’t want the truth revealed?”

Pound Cake laughed. “Take off your tin foil hat, Silverstar. Spitfire admitted it was the national guard shooting at unarmed Encampment protesters. The Fearless Fifty who died didn’t shoot themselves.”

Applejack guffawed. “Oh, is that what you’re callin’ your target-practice patsies now? The ‘Fearless Fifty?’ That’s a riot… literally. Some loyal friend you are, Rainbow Dash, shootin’ your own protesters in the back just to frame our pal Twilight and usurp her throne. I ain’t never seen such a hoax perpetrated. We don’t want another war in Equestria, but just keep pushin’ us and see what happens!”

“We don’t want a war, either, but there’ll be no monarchy. Give us back Fluttershy right now, or else!” Pound shouted.

“Go to hell, fascists!” Silverstar shouted back.

There was a slam, then the call ended. Rainbow Dash sighed, while Pound muttered curse words under his breath.





Rainbow Dash and Pound Cake sat in a conference room with General Spitfire, Doctor Stable, and Starlight Glimmer.

“Another donkey was just publicly whipped in Dodge Junction. The terrorists are desensitizing the population to speciesist violence. If we don’t act, soon there will be public executions, lynchings, even genocide,” said Starlight Glimmer.

Pound Cake sighed. “After talking to them, I’d say that getting through their thick skulls is like trying to wax a tornado. Inventing crazy conspiracies? Having a ‘Pony Peace Patrol’ that shoots guns off like fireworks? Having a ‘Pony Punisher’ whip donkeys? Dodge Junction makes what Pumpkin did in Mareicopa look like a tea party. How could they be so whacked-out and delusional?”

“Medically, I think that decades of mercury runoff in the water has made Dodge Junction’s residents mentally unstable,” said Doctor Stable.

“Fluttershy was trying to filter out the loony juice to help those people,” said Pound Cake. “These Pest Control buggers don’t even know what’s best for them. But mercury still wouldn’t explain Applejack and Sheriff Silverstar’s craziness. They’re not even from Dodge.”

Doctor Stable said, “I think that they’re suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder after the Great Racial War. They’re like veterans who duck whenever they hear vehicles backfiring, because their lizard brains think ‘gunfire’. Given her horrid past, I’d say Pumpkin Cake also has PTSD. She and Iron Will have taken a city like Mareicopa, which suffered immensely during the war, and whipped the PTSD residents up into a fearful frenzy thinking that the ‘fascists’ are coming to get them again. Silverstar, too, is great at fearmongering.”

Pound Cake said, “Silverstar’s a crazy old nostalgic fool, trying to recreate his Appleloosa glory days. This time, instead of a small town of five hundred, he’s ‘defending’ a big city of five hundred thousand. This time it’s not just Canterlot, but all of Equestria who he thinks is ‘fascist.’”

“Like I said in that speech, the buggers should look in the mirror,” said Rainbow Dash. “My speechwriter needs a raise. I kicked some rhetorical a—”

Starlight Glimmer narrowed her eyes.

“—flank. But I’m worried. If Pound Cake and Doctor Stable are right about Silverstar’s delusions and Dodge Junction’s insanity, they might start a war.”

General Spitfire said, “The good news is that the east coast national guard arrested some provocateurs who occupied Horseshoe Bay City Hall and declared a ‘Free Horseshoe Bay.’ But in the southwest, the situation is getting out of hoof. We can’t afford to ignore it anymore. Inspired by Copa and Dodge, there are now huge Pest Control rallies in cities and towns all along the south and west of Equestria, near the San Palomino desert. They’ve seized government buildings in Albuckerque, Santa Neigh, Playa Del Sol, Salt Lick City, El Lasso, and others, and a lot of these vigilante, so-called ‘Pony Peace Patrol’ groups have sprouted up. Most are still unarmed, but I’d say Dodge Junction is a definite trouble spot with the militants and the hostage situation.”

Doctor Stable said, “Our medical observers haven’t been let in to see Fluttershy. Her captors assure us that she’s alive and well, but they say that she’s in a hidden location, and if we knew where she was, we might try to rescue her.”

“Oh, so we're just supposed to trust them?” Pound Cake scoffed.

“Applejack was the Element of Honesty. I do believe her if she says that Fluttershy is okay… but we still can’t leave her with those maniacs! We can’t let the townspeople suffer under terrorists who whip donkeys. We have to retake Dodge!” Rainbow Dash exclaimed.

“Yeah! And let’s not forget Tall Tale and Vanhoover, either,” said Pound Cake.

Spitfire sighed. “I was hoping that we could deal with Tall Tale and Vanhoover first, before the buggers. But Zecora told me that Zapp foiled their poisoning plan. That, plus not having a navy, means that we probably won’t get the northwest back anytime soon. Zecora is working on a new plan now, but that could take longer. Either way, we should focus on the Palomino for now. We don’t want terrorists seizing any other cities. If we don’t act, they’ll be emboldened, and the Equestrian Republic house of cards will fall. Dodge Junction should be our first priority, though if we move into town, they could start killing hostages.”

“How will we get back Fluttershy if we don't know where they’re holding her?” asked Pound.

Starlight Glimmer smiled. “I can help with that. I have several Equals in the area who can perform recon and find Fluttershy’s location. Then, I’ll intangibly rescue her. Afterwards, Spitfire’s military can retake the town.”

“Good,” said Rainbow Dash. “Let's do that. I don't want Fluttershy in danger for a minute longer.”

Spitfire said, “In the meantime, there’s a military base just west of Dodge. I can order the troops out. They’ll surround Dodge at strategic locations a couple miles out from the terrorist roadblocks in every direction. That way, when the hostages are rescued, we’ll be in position to move in and liberate the city.”





Town of Azurica

Twenty military vehicles with two hundred soldiers roared through the main street of Azurica, the small coalmining town which stood several kilometers west of Dodge Junction. Tanks’ smokestacks poured black fumes into the air, while atop the armored personnel carriers and trucks, soldiers sat with shifty eyes glancing in all directions.

The vehicle loudspeakers played a message. “Attention, citizens. You are in danger. By order of President Rainbow Dash, do not leave your homes until further notice.”

Suddenly, the convoy stopped in its tracks. Dozens of sweaty, dirt-caked miners holding pickaxes gathered around the lead vehicle, blocking the dirt road. Mares and stallions from the town stood in the streets.

“What are you doing here?” an angry mining stallion demanded.

“Our children don’t need another war!” a mother screamed, holding her foal tight.

One of the commanders calmly said, “We’re conducting a terrorist removal action in the Palomino Desert area. Stand aside, citizens.”

The crowd booed and jeered.

“Where? I don’t see any terrorists. All I see is a military nuisance disturbin’ the peace and scarin’ the locals,” the town sheriff scoffed.

“Y’all should storm Manehattan where the real terrorists are!” demanded an old grandmother.

The situation in Azurica continued like this for several hours, with the residents standing in the street and blocking the convoy until the sun started to set. 

As the hours passed, the soldiers began to step off of the carriers and vehicles one by one. Townsponies wrenched their guns away, which the sheriff threw into a pile on the sidewalk. In return for the surrendered guns, the townsponies fed the hungry soldiers bowls of soup and apples. The exasperated commander finally ordered all of his troops to surrender their weapons and leave their vehicles. The crowd cheered.

“Now let’s get these vehicles out of this town, and into the right hooves where they belong!” the sheriff proclaimed.

The next day, Azurica residents brought out yellowjacket flags and hung them from the military vehicles, tearing off the Equestrian Republic tricolors. Miners brought out rolls of yellow caution tape normally used to mark abandoned mine shafts. About half of the soldiers from the prior day, including their commander, trekked back to the military base on hoof, disarmed. The other half took their machine guns and mounted the vehicles, tying yellow tape around their uniforms and gun barrels to show their loyalty to the Pest Control movement.

The vehicles hummed to life with much fanfare. The Azurica townspeople gave the soldiers a round of applause as they drove off towards Dodge Junction, not to surround the town, but to defect to it.





Mareicopa: September, 2028

Pumpkin Cake sat in the executive building, sifting through mounds of paperwork regarding the newly-independent city’s laws. Based on Pumpkin’s guidance as city Director, the Free Mareicopa legislature would soon vote on them.

People like Pound Cake might say that Pumpkin wielded too much power, which could corrupt her, or that she was unqualified to lead. Pumpkin had never desired power over others, only to pursue her personal goals with magic and money. As she’d attained copious amounts of both, she would be impossible to bribe. Phase Healing had given her management experience, and her past suffering under authoritarians had given her an appreciation for personal liberty, so she’d never trample the Mareicopan citizens’ rights. She would certainly be a better leader than the parasitic Rainbow Dash, the cronyistic Twilight Sparkle, the blustering Luna, or the tyrannical mob whims of unrestrained democracy. Her youth was her sole weakness, but she’d appointed older advisors like Professor Fossil, Walkabout, Iron Will, and Professor Fossil to guide her.

For those who feared her power, she had an answer. Mareicopa would hold a constitutional convention, and the new constitution’s articles would limit the government to enumerated powers. The government would only be responsible for military, police, and courts, all three of which would be as small, transparent, and corruption-free as possible. All other duties like education, road maintenance, and postal services would be privatized. Taxation would be abolished in favor of fees, fines, and a voluntary lottery system. That way, even if Pumpkin wanted to abuse her political power, she’d be hard-pressed to.

The office door creaked open, and she gazed up. In the doorframe stood six well-dressed businessponies: Jet Set, Upper Crust, Aunt and Uncle Orange, Filthy Rich, and Diamond Tiara.

Filthy Rich smiled. “Ah, if it isn’t Mareicopa’s new… uh… princess?”

Diamond Tiara gritted her teeth. Perhaps she was envious of Pumpkin, and wanted to be ‘princess’ herself.

“I’m no princess,” said Pumpkin. “I’ve never cared for dresses and galas. I’d prefer to call myself Mareicopa’s Director.”

“You mean you have all this power, and you won’t even call yourself princess? What a waste,” Diamond Tiara scoffed.

Pumpkin sighed, narrowing her eyebrows. “I’m sorry, but did you six come here for any particular reason other than to annoy me? I’m very busy, you know.”

Uncle Orange said, “We just wanted to get acquainted with Mareicopa’s new director. What with Manehattan being administered by rogues who ran off their most productive citizens like us, and with roving gangs controlling Dodge Junction, we’re glad Mareicopa is still functioning smoothly.”

Upper Crust said, “I think that we all can do great business together, here in Free Mareicopa.”

“Okay,” said Pumpkin, smiling. “You’d better get to work, then. Your businesses won’t build themselves.”

“Actually, that’s what we wanted to talk about,” said Filthy Rich. “We were wondering if you could grease the wheels for us. After all, that’s what a ruler does to facilitate commerce.”

Pumpkin looked at them, perplexed.

The six ponies glanced at each other, whispering in each others’ ears. Pumpkin caught a few snippets.

“...eighteen, too young to know how things work…”

“...understandable... only came to power last month...”

“...needs a crash course?”

Finally, Aunt Orange stood forward and spoke, a plastic smile stretching across her face.

“In simple terms, Director Pumpkin Cake, it’s the government’s job to ensure we make a profit. After all, we employ millions of ponies and bring in millions in tax revenue. In the interest of the public order and financial solvency, you should ‘grease the wheels’ for us.”

“What do you think I’m doing? I’m repealing almost every regulation and restriction on business,” said Pumpkin Cake.

“...Oh, well there’s no need for that,” said Aunt Orange. “Some regulations are good! Without patent regulations, how would we stop our customers from planting Orange Co. seeds and growing their own oranges?”

“And without eminent domain, how would I build my stores if somepony refuses to sell me their land?” asked Filthy Rich.

“If there weren’t safety regulations, inferior firearms made by JSUC’s competitors would flood the market. Without laws against magic, ponies wouldn’t have as much incentive to buy our guns for protection,” said Jet Set.

“Without public assistance programs to pick up the slack, how could we pay our factory employees so little without them finding another job?” asked Upper Crust.

“I see...” said Pumpkin Cake. “Your cronyism is unwelcome here. If you want to make money in Mareicopa, feel free, but you’ll earn it honestly like I did. You won’t use my government to kneecap your competitors. I’m no tool like Twilight. Competition is the life of commerce, but regulation is its death. How are your requests any different from the planned economy of RainbowCare? Dash stifles innovation like foal farms, to favor existing hospitals. That’s basically what you’re asking me to do, here. Corporate welfare is the same as the Encampment parasites demanding handouts.”

“But… I mean, let’s be reasonable ponies, here,” said Filthy Rich. He grinned reached into his pocket. “How about I help you, and you help me?”

“Oh, you think you can bribe me? That’s cute,” said Pumpkin Cake. “With what would you have to bribe me? I’m a billionaire and can buy anything I’d ever want. I’m the most powerful unicorn alive. With a single pulse of my horn, I could cure cancer, experience sheer ecstasy… or kill you all where you stand.”

After a brief moment of awkward silence, the oligarchs all scurried out of the room. Pumpkin laughed, and returned to her paperwork. About a minute later, a voice broke her concentration once again.

“Not interrupting, am I?”

Pumpkin glanced up to see Rarity standing in the doorway, hesitantly peering in. She smiled at her old friend.

“Oh, hey, Rarity. Sorry, I was just taking care of some leeches. Please, come in!”

Rarity’s eyes widened. “My goodness, I don’t know what you said to those businessponies, but they were running so quickly, they almost knocked me over outside.”

“I put them in their place,” said Pumpkin. “The monarchy days of rent-seeking are over. Rarity, I consider you a good friend, so I really hope that you’re not here to ask for a handout, too.”

Rarity shook her head. “I wouldn’t dream of it. I contribute to society, not take from it. I grace the world with my fashions and creations, but would never soil it with greed.”

Pumpkin sighed. “I don’t like that word, ‘greed.’ That’s the enemy’s terminology.”

“Unfortunately, ‘greed’ is also the rallying cry that the enemy uses against you, much as you use the word ‘fascism’ against them. Cries of greed got people out into the streets in Manehattan to overthrow the princesses. If you aren’t careful, they’ll spread to Mareicopa.”

“If the Encampment spreads here, we’ll put it down. I’m not concerned.”

Rarity laughed. “Wouldn’t that dreadfully clash with your stance on individual rights? Do people not have the right to assembly, to speak out against you? Do they have the right to a fair trial if accused of a crime? Do they have the right to own weapons or use magic?”

Pumpkin nodded. “Yes, everybody has those rights.”

“Then a revolution is inevitable. Your opponents will use those very rights against Free Mareicopa to seize power, then they will quickly restrict those same rights—just as Rainbow Dash has done—to secure their power. Dash now shuts down radio programs, imposes new magic laws, and sends tanks against Pest Control protesters who’ve looted not a single shop, caused not a single violent death. She takes the same or worse actions today that, just two months ago, the Encampment would’ve rallied against Twilight Sparkle and Luna for doing. But Mareicopa’s trajectory is untenable. You’ve almost guaranteed a new revolution. This city will not remain free for long. Either it will fall to the mobs of looters as Manehattan did, or to halt it, you must restrict freedoms and become the very fascist state that you so despise.”

Pumpkin Cake shrugged. “If that’s true, Rarity, then how do I prevent that?”

Rarity smiled. “You disprove the Encampment’s cries of greed by beating them at their own game. I do it through generosity: true generosity, which by definition must come willingly from the hearts of individuals, not state coercion. The Encampment makes a mockery of generosity by calling welfare state programs ‘generous.’ Only a confused mind could consider forced redistribution to be ‘generosity,’ and could consider the desire to keep one's legitimate possessions to be ‘greed.’”

Pumpkin laughed. “Now you’re preaching to the choir. But all welfare will be abolished in Mareicopa.”

Rarity nodded. “It must be replaced with a better system. It could be private philanthropists like me, who establish foundations. It also could be those like you, with your charity care at Phase Healing. Perhaps you do it for ‘selfish’ interests like good publicity, but charity is still charity and still appreciated by its recipients. Another source of generosity is the church. As an atheist, you might dislike organized religion, but it provides a valuable function. Before government assumed the role, the homeless would go to churches to be fed and clothed. The indigent sick would go to religious hospitals to be healed.”

Pumpkin nodded. “Nurse Redheart told me about that.”

Rarity continued, “Religion just as often motivates followers like Redheart to compassion as it motivates zealots like Zaporizhia to violence. And, just as a separation between state and church is necessary to prevent tyranny like his, so is a separation between state and altruism necessary to prevent tyranny like the Encampment’s.”

Pumpkin said, “But when I talked to my brother about that, he said that there wasn’t enough private money being given to take care of everypony.”

Rarity giggled. “Ha! As if there’s enough government money? By the Encampment’s own budget, RainbowCare and the other new welfare schemes are projected to run massive deficits. Their compassion exceeds their ability to pay.”

“So what do we do, then? How do I prevent a paupers’ revolt in Mareicopa?” asked Pumpkin Cake.

“You articulate your principles, just as I’ve done with you today. You explain the necessity and correctness of your point of view. If you truly desire to be a real leader, you must lead, darling. Where the Encampment seeks to divide the people along class, race, and species lines, you must unite them. Now, I see that you have plenty of paperwork, and I’m ever so sorry for taking up your time. It has been pleasant speaking with you, Pumpkin Cake. Good afternoon.”

Rarity smiled and turned towards the door.

“Wait, Rarity…” said Pumpkin.

Rarity turned around.

“I’ve got my hooves full, and I need help from smart ponies. Would you be one of my advisors, please?”

Rarity smiled. “I would love to help you and Mareicopa… but not as an advisor, as the Director herself. You must demote yourself to vice-director.”

Pumpkin opened her mouth to speak, but Rarity cut her off. “Mareicopa needs a leader who is a bit less rough around the edges. One who doesn’t brashly threaten others’ lives, even only as hyperbole. One who conducts herself properly, who can dress and speak the part. Part of preventing a revolt is by being charming, even to your worst adversaries. You have great potential for top leadership, Pumpkin Cake… but you’re too young, hormonal, and inexperienced to be there just yet. Wait, and your time in the sun as Director will come, and I will groom you for the part.”

At first, Pumpkin was going to object, but then she realized that Rarity was just as experienced and talented as her, probably moreso. She would certainly have the rights of Mareicopa’s citizenry in mind. Rarity’s generous streak did concern Pumpkin, but Pumpkin could always find a way to rein her in if needed.

She nodded. “You can be director, but you have to follow the constitution, Rarity.”

“Excellent!” Rarity exclaimed. “And of course I’ll follow it. Now, let’s start on our wardrobes…”





The Tiara Tower, Manehattan

A grand marble fountain stood in front of the Tiara Tower. Little children laughed, splashing each other with water on this warm September day, getting in some wet frolicking before autumn arrived and made it too cold. A sign in front of the fountain, which once said, ‘No running, swimming, or skateboarding’ had been defaced, a sticker put up over the ‘no’ that said ‘Go.’

As he flew by it, Pound Cake laughed. The revolution had already improved Manehattan’s spirits. Before the protesters had chased Diamond Tiara out of the Tiara Tower, no such fun was allowed in her exquisite fountain. Pound glanced up at the top of the building. The giant letters still screamed TIARA, but they had renamed it to the Shelter Tower, since the building had been appropriated by the city for care of the homeless. After all, there was no reason why rich people should be able to spend millions of bits for a penthouse while the homeless froze or boiled in the streets without a dime. It was nothing but greed. Unfortunately, there wasn’t nearly enough space in the Shelter Tower for all of the homeless in Manehattan, and lines stretched around the block to get a room there.

As Pound walked into the lobby, a cool blast of air-conditioned air hit him. The indoor ferns were gradually turning brown, while the once-spotless marble floors were slowly but surely accumulating a thin film of discarded wads of chewing gum, band-aids, and scuff marks. The janitors had quit working ever since Tiara had fled Manehattan, because they were no longer being paid.

In the attached bar that connected to the lobby, lower-class drinkers were having a blast. They uncorked champagne bottles, cheering loudly and spraying it all over each other. They gulped it down like it was cheap beer. Empty cases of decades-old wine piled up in the trash. One stallion stumbled out of the entrance to the bar, slipping on the smooth marble floor of the lobby. Pound whooshed over, held out his hooves, and stopped him from falling.

“Why, thanks, stranger!” said the drunk, hiccuping. 

Pound smiled. “You’re welcome. I’m glad that you’re enjoying the Shelter Tower.”

“Ain’t you the… veep or somethin’?”

Pound chuckled. “Well, yeah, but I’m really just the same as any of you. I’m not like Twilight or Luna; I go out and see for myself how the citizens are doing.”

The drunk grinned. “You’re alright, kid.” Then, he stumbled to the door to go outside to the fountain.

Pound Cake continued further into the massive lobby, where a grand piano and several cushy chairs sat. A noxious smell caught his nostrils, and he spied a cloud of white smoke rising from a chair. It appeared that a stallion was smoking a cigar in here.

Pound gave a cough. It was slightly forced to make a point, but the smoke did irritate his lungs. Didn’t the stallion know? No smoking was allowed indoors in Equestria anymore. Compliance was at ninety-nine percent. Pound coughed again, but the stallion kept puffing away.

Finally, he walked up to him and said, “Excuse me, but you’ll have to go outside to smoke that, sir.”

“I’m a disabled vet,” said the earth stallion in a gruff voice. He swiveled around in his chair. Pound noticed that he was missing both of his back legs, and a little more besides. At this, Pound blushed beet red.

“Also, it’s ma’am, not sir. I’m transgendered now.”

“I’m so sorry,” Pound Cake stammered. He turned and flew towards the revolving door, as shame overtook him. 

How could he have been so prejudicial towards that disabled veteran? She had sacrificed so much in the Racial Wars, and here Pound was, with his wings and legs and stallion parts working just fine. If anything, that mare had the right to be irritated at Pound for strutting around all able-bodied like he owned the place. Pound sought to be a servant of the people, not an autocratic ruler like Twilight had been.

Now, Pound needed something to lift his spirits. So, after some serious soul searching and privilege checking, he flew over to Manehattan Medical, now renamed to Fearless Fifty Medical. Lines stretched out the hospital doors to get in, though he flew through a top window. No longer would some patients get gold-plated healthcare just because they had money. Now, all care was distributed on a much fairer basis of first-come, first-serve.

Though Doctor Stable was the chief physician of the Equestrian Republic, he hadn’t quit his day job at the hospital. Not even he was too high-ranking to deliver care to the people. He was busy looking over a patient’s X-rays in an exam room with her when Pound Cake walked in.

“See that lump right there on your colon? That’s cancer,” he said, pointing out a tumor.

“Oh my goodness!” the mare exclaimed, her eyes widening. “Will… will… will I survive?”

Pound shuffled back towards the door, realizing that he probably shouldn’t be in the room with such a sensitive, personal thing going on. But then, he paused as Doctor Stable smiled.

“You have very good odds if we operate on it. We’re lucky that we caught this when we did. I believe that, chances are, you will survive and live a long and healthy life afterwards.”

Tears streamed down the mare’s eyes as she reached over and hugged Doctor Stable. “Thank you so much! Before the revolution, I had terrible insurance that wouldn’t let me have a checkup without a giant copay. But now, here I am and I’m grateful for early detection!”

Doctor Stable glanced over at Pound Cake. “Pound, I want you to remember this for the rest of your life. This, right here... this is generosity. This is sacrifice for the common good. What your sister does when she does her ‘charity’ care is just a shallow publicity stunt. I do this because I’m obligated, because I know that this really counts. I do this solely for others and expect nothing in return. That’s what medicine is truly about.”

The patient nodded in agreement.

Pound walked back out the front doors of the hospital, a smile on his face as his confidence was restored. The revolution was doing great things for people. A few cities had seceded, sure, but they were in the loud, hateful minority, and they would soon be recaptured and the fatcat terrorists brought to justice. Then, the wonderful new Equestrian Republic would stretch across the continent, giving all of the people their innate rights to food, shelter, healthcare, and all other basic essentials of life.





Crystopolis, The Crystal Empire

The translucent red, blue, and purple houses and buildings of the Crystal Empire’s capital city glistened in the morning sunlight. On the eastern side of the city, the light was blinding. On the western side, though, a long shadow loomed over the crystal houses, cast by the tall crystal palace which Princess Cadance and Shining Armor called their home, and which King Sombra had called his home before them, having ordered his slaves to build it.

As Twilight Sparkle stood on the balcony, she gazed over the shady western portion of the city, and saw it as an apt metaphor. Monarchs were going the way of the chupacabras, and the Crystal Empire’s monarchy was the last vestige of Equestrian royalty. Given the turmoil in Manehattan, the monarchy did indeed cast a long shadow over the Crystal Empire. Twilight wondered when the streets of Crystopolis would fill with the same angry rioters seen in Manehattan, this time calling for Cadance’s ouster.

“Don’t worry, Twily.”

Twilight Sparkle turned around to see her smiling brother standing there. He rested his white hoof upon her winged back, patting her reassuringly.

“The crystal ponies love you. You and Spike helped free them from King Sombra. They love Cadie and I, too. The Encampment won’t change that. You and Luna will always be welcome here.”

“I… I guess I understand, Shining,” said Twilight Sparkle, gazing back out over the city. “But…those protests changed me. I’ve been thinking this past month. What if I wasn’t the best leader? Maybe I paid a bit too much attention to oligarchs, and not enough attention to my friends like Rainbow and Fluttershy. Maybe the police and military were too brutal under my watch, to the zebras in Tall Tale, to the protesters in Manehattan. Maybe I don’t deserve…”

“Oh, would you knock it off, Twilight?”

Twilight turned around to see Spike the Dragon standing at the balcony door. In many years, he had grown somewhat beyond his baby dragon form, to about a meter tall, and now met Twilight at eye level. This was due to his consumption of the generous quantities of crystal gemstones bestowed upon him by the grateful crystal pony subjects.

Spike said, “You did the best you could. Princess Celestia left you a huge responsibility when she passed away. She was over a thousand years old, and you aren’t even fifty. Quit beating yourself up about it.”

Twilight smiled. “Thanks, Spike. I’ve missed you. I should’ve come up here to visit more often… but I guess that’s not a problem now that I live here, is it? I just wish I could go back to Equestria and straighten things out. I keep hearing the news everyday, and it’s not good. Lawlessness is spreading… cities are seceding left and right...”

Spike waved his claw in the air. “Don’t bother going back. They’ve made their bed; let them lie in it.”

Twilight chuckled. “I guess you’re right. If anything, my presence might make things worse.”

“Just stay up here and enjoy the party, like me! The crystal berries and maple syrup are to die for! The Feldspar Festival this August was so fun, I had a heart attack! And have you tried the crystal rock candy? It grows here! You can dig in the ground, and find CANDY!”

Pinkie bounded out towards the balcony, hopping up and down until she landed on the rail, balancing precariously above the city on the tips of her hooves. She fell back onto Twilight Sparkle and turned to face her, grinning widely.

Twilight raised an eyebrow. “Pinkie Pie? How long have you lived here?”

She grinned. “Well, after the revolution, a bunch of Equals came and seized my family’s rock farm in Whinnsylvania, and they said that it was the property of the state now. I was so sad, that my hair lost its poofy. But then, I got a brilliant idea! We moved to the Crystal Empire to farm rock candy. I’ve been here ever since. My parents, Inky, Blinky, and Maude love it here!”

“We have many such political refugees from Equestria, arriving daily,” said Princess Cadance, who walked out to the balcony to join Twilight Sparkle, Spike, Shining Armor, and Pinkie Pie. All five of them stood there, gazing out over the city.

“Hey, Cadie,” said Shining Armor, nuzzling his wife. “Have the servants finished up brunch, yet?”

She nodded. “We’re having peridot poutine.”

Pinkie and Spike both shouted out in unison, “My favorite!”





As Twilight Sparkle was eating brunch with her friends and family, the door to the balcony burst open. In walked a crystal courier with a letter, which Twilight read to herself in between bites of brunch.

“Dear Twilight Sparkle,

After that ruckus in Manehattan, I figured that you’d be staying with your brother in the Crystal Empire. Sheriff Silverstar and I have grabbed those pretenders by the horns, though. That traitor minister of yours, Fluttershy, is in our custody. We won’t let Rainbow Dash have her back until she lets you be princess again, as it rightfully and honestly should be. RD seems adamant about not letting go of power, but I know that her loyalty gene will kick in, and she’ll see reason eventually. Please come to Dodge Junction, at the train station, and we can discuss how to get you back on that throne where you belong.

Thanks,
Applejack

Twilight’s stomach grumbled as she set the letter aside. Was it the poutine? Or was it the flood of anxiety and memories that the letter had brought back?

The door burst open once again. This time, it wasn’t a letter, but a pegasus, who zoomed towards the table.

“General Soarin?” Twilight asked.

“Princess Twilight; thank Celestia you’re here,” he said, coming to a screeching and bowing in midair. “Where’s Princess Luna?”

“She’s asleep,” said Princess Cadance. “What is the meaning of barging in on us like this?”

“My apologies,” said Soarin. “Twilight Sparkle, I’m here to pledge my undying allegiance to you and Luna, who I beseech must return to Manehattan at once to command the navy, or else the Pretender Rainbow Dash…”

“Geez, you’re rambling more than I do! And I would know,” said Pinkie Pie. 

“Leave Twilight alone. She’s been through a lot,” said Spike.

Soarin scowled. “If you don’t return, Tall Tale and Vanhoover will forever be under the hoof of Zaporizhia! Rioters and arsonists will keep seizing factories and stealing on the east coast! A princess must protect her subjects, she must raise the moon to create the tides, or what legitimacy does she have… uh, your highness.”

“Apparently none, judging by your backtalk,” said Cadance.

“Twily isn’t princess of Equestria anymore. She doesn’t want to be. So she’s hanging here, with us,” said Shining Armor.

Soarin drew back, blinking. He stood there for a few seconds, before turning to Twilight.

“Princess Twilight? Is this true?”

Twilight lowered her head. “I’m sorry, Soarin, but if I tried to go back to Manehattan, there could be a civil war. Right now, there’ve been a few cities declare independence, but no battles, and it looks like everypony is really trying to avoid bloodshed. I want to keep it that way. The last night I was in Manehattan was the deadliest night that Equestria has seen in two years. My name is mud there.”

Soarin shook his head. “Perhaps in Manehattan, but not in Applewood. Since our ships are all docked there, I’ve had my naval forces bloodlessly secure the port and surrounding metro area. Turns out all of those Applewood movie actors who supported the Encampment were really just that: actors. At the first sign of the navy marching through downtown, they fled to Manehattan without a fight, to become Broadneigh performers or something. And all of the burros who supposedly support the Encampment and Rainbow Dash? They cheered for us! They don’t want their small businesses looted, either! So we have a base of operations in Applewood now. From there, Princess, you could lead a force—”

“And what, start a war? Have you even been listening, dude?” asked Shining Armor.

Twilight nervously chuckled. “Applewood, fine. But Baltimare? Manehattan? Mareicopa? Do you think Pumpkin wants to team up with me, and that she’d give up her power over that city? I didn’t see any monarchy flags at those Pest Control protests. If I showed up in Manehattan with any of your navy, there would be a huge gunfight. I’m sorry, Soarin, but the answer is still no.”

Soarin sighed. “So… I’m a ship without an anchor, then. I see. Our navy will have to find its own way. For now, I guess we’ll just sit in the bathtub in Applewood. Are you sure that you have no final orders for me, Princess Twilight?”

Twilight said, “Just try to prevent bloodshed in Equestria. Use the navy to secure the public order, and calm down the situation.”

Soarin saluted. “Yes, your highness!”

He turned and flew out the door.





Pumpkin Cake and Rarity walked down the cobblestone streets of Canterlot, towards the gates to the royal palace. Inside the palace, they walked down the marble hallways. Crystal chandeliers reflected light down. Pumpkin didn’t care for such frivolities, but at Rarity’s insistence, she had started wearing a blue ladies’ jacket with a white undershirt. Rarity herself wore a crimson dress.

They finally reached the grand oak doors leading to the office of President Fancy Pants and Duchess Sparkler. Rarity knocked twice, and Amethyst Star opened the door.

“Look at you, all dressed up,” she chuckled. “Come in.”

They sat down on leather chairs. Fancy Pants jolted slightly upon seeing Pumpkin Cake.

“Uh… er… what a nice ensemble, Miss Cake,” said Fancy Pants, trembling slightly.

“Thanks,” said Pumpkin. “Rarity made it for me.” 

The last time that Pumpkin Cake had spoken to Fancy Pants, she had been trying to assassinate him, so his trepidation was understandable.

“Alright, so what did you two call this meeting about? Here to ask me for some pointers about how to rule a city-state?” asked Duchess Sparkler grinning. “I mean, I’m still kind of learning the ropes myself.”

“I think we have Mareicopa under control for now,” said Rarity.

Pumpkin Cake said, “We have a proposal. If you’ve been following the news from Manehattan, it’s probably caused you to doubt your own grip on power.”

“Not really. We sent the protesters packing here. Just a gravity spell did the trick,” said Sparkler.

“I was rather hesitant to approve that use of force,” said Fancy Pants. “What a shame that five protesters died. It was an awful mess.”

“So you both were just fine with taking actions like that?” asked Rarity.

Pumpkin snarked, “That reminds me of a previous leader of Canterlot’s. What was his name again?”

“Who are you to talk? You used a gravity spell at your clinic,” Sparkler replied.

“That was in self-defense, and no one was hurt when I did it.”

Fancy Pants said, “I was disheartened and saddened when those five died. When I wanted to assume power in the Second Kingdom, it was to prevent such totalitarianism. I never thought I’d have to do such things to stay in power.”

Rarity said, “I believe that gravity spells are temporary stopgaps. You might’ve frightened the protesters for now, but they’ll be back someday, only next time, more numerous. Then, you’ll either have to become tyrants like Blueblood, or you’ll be dethroned like Twilight and Luna.”

Sparkler chuckled. “I’ve helped overthrow regimes all over the world, for my entire life; I’m pretty sure that I know a putsch when I see one coming. I know what makes them succeed, and what makes them fail. Canterlot will be fine.”

“But what will be the price we have to pay, Amethyst? We have never discussed this at length, and I don’t know if I’m willing to go as far as you are. I’m not a monster like Blueblood,” said Fancy Pants.

Sparkler sighed. “We won’t have to do that. We’ll give the masses just enough perks, like healthcare or pensions. It’s just enough to survive on and keep them satisfied, but not enough to make taxes too high on producers.”

“Is it?” asked Pumpkin Cake. “Just like RainbowCare, your CanterCare and welfare isn’t sustainable, either. You’ll go bankrupt in just under two decades.”

“Indeed. I have run the numbers,” said Rarity.

With a flash of light, a small stack of papers appeared on Fancy Pants’ desk.

“We’re keenly aware of our own fiscal situation, Pumpkin and Rarity,” said Sparkler. “Sure, it’s not sustainable, but we inherited the welfare state from Blueblood. You can’t just dismantle it overnight, because ponies get really upset when you take stuff from them. Then there’ll be riots again like you said.”

“That’s why we’re proposing a deal,” said Rarity. “Pumpkin and I are very wealthy mares. We can help ensure that, post-welfare state, indigent ponies still are cared for. I have a private foundation which I would be happy to extend to Canterlot, while Pumpkin has Phase Healing’s services, and can also contribute money. This will reduce the risk of revolution.”

“That’s quite generous of you. Thank you for helping to relieve the burden on our treasury,” said Fancy Pants.

Sparkler raised an eyebrow. “What’s the catch, though? I know you, Pumpkin Cake; you’re a lot like me. You wouldn’t just give away millions of bits or do charity care unless you got something in return.”

“Simple,” said Pumpkin Cake. “Canterlot and Free Mareicopa will enter a military alliance. We’ll consider an attack on one city to be an attack on both cities. Right now, Rainbow’s cabal is distracted by the Dodge Junction crisis, but we’re worried that Spitfire will eventually invade Mareicopa. My militia probably won’t be enough.”

“We can contribute limited military resources, but we don’t want to be dragged into war. It’s my job to keep the peace between Equestria and the Second Duchy,” said Sparkler.

“We desire peace, as well, and wish to deter war. This alliance will be a deterrent. Together, both of our cities can defend against aggression from Equestria,” said Rarity.

Sparkler nodded. 

Fancy Pants said, “Perhaps, to increase our advantage, we could rely on technology. To inaugurate our cities’ alliance, we should connect you to some truly innovative unicorn scientists. Though I must warn you, Miss Cake. With your personal history, they might dredge up some unpleasant memories for you...”





Dodge Junction

The dim, orange glow from Dodge Junction’s lights shone across the night sky. It reminded Hoops of the fire burning in his belly for all that had happened.

Hoops’ home city of Cloudsdale had been taken by oligarchs. An oligarchic police force in Manehattan had killed his best friend. Then, his mentor Jolly Doodle had been killed by the new government that was supposed to have replaced the oligarchs, but was really just as corrupt and unfair as ever. Nothing had changed in Manehattan. Police still took bribes, people still were homeless, and rich tycoons and bankers like Shiny Diamond still ran big businesses. The economy was still terrible, and had actually worsened since Rainbow Dash’s interim government took power, with healthcare and housing prices skyrocketing, and with massive layoffs at major companies. Of course, Hoops knew that the only solution would be the total abolition of money, class, and cutie marks.

Hoops had practically begged Starlight Glimmer to start a second Encampment, this time to finish the job of the first one and truly live out the egalitarian principles of the revolution. Glimmer had told him to have patience. After all, Manehattan was the lesser of two evils for the Equals right now. The speciesist Pest Control which had seized Mareicopa, Dodge Junction and a smattering of other cities throughout the southwest to preserve corporate dynasties was surely worse than Rainbow Dash’s ineffective government.

“Damn buggers,” he muttered under his breath, as he held a pair of binoculars to his eyes.

Starlight Glimmer had instructed the Equals to direct their attention towards the Southwest for now. First, they’d liberate Dodge Junction, then Mareicopa, and then--as a final goal that Glimmer rarely stated openly, but that most Equals implicitly understood--Manehattan itself would be taken in a second Encampment.

Hoops couldn’t see much of Dodge from this distance, let alone figure out where Fluttershy was being held. He would probably have to fly directly over downtown. Even though Dodge was a mostly earth pony town, a few pegasi still lived there, so he wouldn’t arouse too much suspicion. He silently motioned back to two other pegasi Equals, who nodded and took off into the air.

The composition of this scouting mission made Hoops feel slightly guilty. He had wanted to take along an earth pony, unicorn, or farm animal instead of only pegasi on his trip. But Starlight Glimmer had sent three pegasi, since they could fly through the air and over Silverstar’s makeshift checkpoints in the road. And sending a farm animal might arouse suspicion from the speciesist ‘Pony Peace Patrol’ paramilitary group. From the horror stories that Hoops had heard, the newly-formed group hated and abused anyone who wasn’t a pony.

Someday, he thought, everypony would be equal in physical ability. Even if Hoops had to give up his wings, he would still do it so that other ponies and farm animals wouldn’t be jealous of his flight. In a way, it could be a sort of atonement for his years of being a flight school bully, which he still felt guilty about.

As the Equal pegasi soared above the desert road, they neared closer to the checkpoint on the main highway through town. A tank, an armored personnel carrier, and two trucks blocked the road. Hoops felt that he and the Equals might be able to get into the city at this point. After they passed overhead, they would be in the clear. 

But a voice shouted up into the air from the checkpoint before them.

“Stop!” 

Hoops sped up towards the checkpoint, ascending higher into the air vertically. The other Equals followed his lead.

“This is restricted airspace!”

Ignoring the shouts from the guards, Hoops and his Equals zoomed over the checkpoint, as a spotlight from a truck bed turned on and blinded him. His eyes stung as he put his hoof in front of his eyelids to block out the light, trying to regain his bearings.

The hesitation was enough time for a Pest Control pegasus to ascend out in front of the Equals.

The pegasus shouted, “Turn back now, or I’ll shoot!”


Hoops drew his own sidearm and blindly fired three shots towards the voice. His comrades joined him and fired their own weapons. The spotlight cut off below, and five loud, rapid shots erupted from the ground. Five concurrent muzzle flashes blinded Hoops out of the corner of his eye. His comrades only yelped in pain for an instant, as they spiraled down towards the ground.

Hoops removed a grenade from his saddlebag, plucking out the pin with his teeth. He lobbed it towards the sniper fire and the former light from the spotlight. A loud explosion ripped through the roadblock, and he zipped off as Pest Control pegasi gave pursuit.

Hoops spun to avoid the gunfire, as the shots of the militants rang through the air behind him. After Hoops had lost the pursuing pegasi, he took a pair of binoculars and saw an enemy truck that had erupted into flames. Though he had scored a direct hit, his intelligence-gathering mission had been a failure, and he had lost his two comrades; they had either died or would be captured. He turned to fly back to Baltimare.

Just as he did, a bullet hole pierced his wing, and he hurtled towards the ground.





The next morning, Sheriff Silverstar and Applejack walked out to the roadblock to survey the damage from the previous night’s shootout.

A burnt-out truck stood by the side of the road, a charred and blackened mess, with the rubber tires having melted down into the sand. Two camouflaged army soldiers lay dead inside of black body bags beside the road, zipped up with yellowjacket flags draped over them. Two Pony Peace Patrolmares were busy digging a shallow grave to dump the body of an enemy pegasus. Another Pest Control soldier stood, a rifle in his hoof pressed against the back of a light brown coated pegasus Equal. The pegasus moaned in pain at his wing, which had a hole shot through it.

His eyes were the size of saucers as he knelt down on both knees and pleaded for the soldier not to take his life.

“Well, looky here. I guess since the cabal couldn’t force the regular army to come into Dodge, they sent their Equal shock troops instead,” said Applejack, sighing.

Sheriff Silverstar said, “It's only a matter of time until Glimmer herself shows up and start takin’ cutie marks.”

“We oughta take him to the city center and tie him to the post in the town square. Maybe if the townsponies see who exactly we’re up against, they’ll be more eager to sign up for militia duty. We just got another hundred guns and RPGs in from Copa yesterday, but only fifty signups since then,” said Applejack.

Silverstar chuckled. “Maybe they don’t want to go to war. Who could blame ‘em; war is hell and I don’t want that, either. But it looks like they don’t have to go to war at all, ‘cause the Equals have brought the war here.”

Applejack nodded, as Silverstar turned around to walk back into town. She sighed, hung her head low, and followed behind. Then, she recalled her gambling problem from many years ago. Back then, she had often gone all in at the slots or at poker and regretted it, losing a lot of money. Thus, she’d quit gambling for good. Or, at least, she thought, but her and Silverstar taking Dodge Junction had also been a huge gamble, and so far, it hadn’t paid off in the least.

The Equals' attack had caused the first violent deaths in the Dodge since the crisis, and full-out war was inching closer. Applejack’s letters to Twilight had done little good to convince her friend to return to her rightful place. Rainbow Dash didn’t look like she’d cave and surrender her power to save Fluttershy, perhaps because she was calling Applejack’s bluff and knew that she would never hurt her. Since a part of her considered it dishonesty, Applejack had always had a bad poker face, hence why she'd lost so much money at the tables years ago.

Of course, though Applejack hardly would harm Fluttershy, Silverstar or the ponies in the so-called ‘Pony Peace Patrol’ might. Applejack was pretty tolerant, and she’d been colleagues, coworkers, and friends with dozens of farm animals over the years. So the PPP’s extreme anti-farm animal slurs—like calling them all retarded criminals—severely offended her. Though not exactly tolerant, Silverstar himself didn’t seem like a huge speciesist to Applejack, either. But neither Applejack nor Silverstar dared to ask the Patrol to tone down their rhetoric. 

The PPP was a necessary evil. They were needed to guard the perimeter and roadblocks around Dodge Junction, and help the regular police enforce the law within the city. Crime had spiked since the revolution. The Encampment’s anti-police mentality had metastasized through Equestria, emboldening criminals, Applejack thought. Many police all over Equestria, including in Dodge, were afraid to go on duty, because what if they got burnt or shot to death? So perhaps only a vigilante group could secure order. But what kind of order was the PPP’s equine supremacy? How was it any better than Starlight Glimmer’s equality?





In Lorindon, the capital of the Uneighted Kingdom, steely grey clouds loomed overhead in the afternoon sky, promising drizzle soon. A giant clock tower belted out three loud chimes. In the grand, ancient parliament building, well-dressed stallions and mares walked, wearing bowler hats, top hats, petticoats, and fine dresses. It was much like the city of Canterlot in that respect.

Pound Cake and Rainbow Dash sat inside of the office of the Prime Minister, a pegasus named Alexavian Knickerson. He had a dignified way of speaking, and a refined accent that would make even Rarity sound passé.

“Would you care for some tea?” he asked.

Rainbow Dash chuckled. “No one drinks coffee here? I could use a caffeine pick-me-up after flying across the ocean. I’ve got major winglag.”

“Tea has caffeine as well, though only a quarter as much per cup. Nevertheless, everyone in my country drinks tea at this time in the afternoon. It’s called ‘tea time,’” said Knickerson.

“Tea time? How about energy drink time? Red Mule gives you a kick! ...Come to think of it, that’s really offensive. We’re gonna get that company to change it,” said Pound Cake. 

Though the two Equestrians made their jokes, they didn’t want to be impolite. Pound and Dash smiled and took the teacups in their wings.

“You must hold out your feathers to be fancy, like so,” said Knickerson, demonstrating with his own wing. Pound and Dash suppressed a groan and did as he requested.

Despite all of the cultural differences between the Uneighted Kingdom and Equestria, the nations were far more alike than not. Just like Equestria, the Uneighted Kingdom was also a union of different pony races. Centuries ago, the earth pony kingdom of Trotland, the pegasus kingdom of Wingland, and the unicorn kingdom of Spells had united as one kingdom, later to become a democracy with the monarch limited to mere ceremonial roles. Nowadays, many ponies from all three races lived in all three countries, though each race still had a comfortable majority in its original country. Additionally, the crystal pony island of Northern Sapphireland was part of the union. 

Just like Equestria, the union between the Uneighted Kingdom’s constituent countries was far from perfect. Over the centuries, there had been feuds ranging on a scale from peaceful attempted secession votes and hoofball riots on the mild end, to insurgencies, bombings, and medieval sieges on the violent end. But unlike Equestria’s current fractured state, the constituent island kingdoms were still united despite all of the past turmoil. Additionally, as the Encampment admired, there had been a national system of medicine in place in the Uneighted Kingdom for many decades, which they desired to use as a model for Equestria.

So with all of that, Rainbow Dash and Pound Cake felt that Equestria could learn a lot from its allies in the Uneighted Kingdom. When Knickerson spoke, they listened. 

“The unicorns of this kingdom should not and will not be made responsible for moving the heavenly bodies, Madam President and Mister Vice President,” said Knickerson.

“What? But the Spelch unicorns could do it, couldn’t they?” asked Pound Cake.

Knickerson shook his head. “We are trying to maintain a delicate balance here. We’ve devolved powers, authority, and responsibilities to the constituent countries so that they feel fairly represented. We wouldn’t want Trotland or Wingland to become suspicious or envious of Spells if they received a new power. Raising the sun and moon is a weighty responsibility.”

“I’ve always thought that the whole world should share the job, but some countries don’t have any unicorns to do it with,” said Rainbow Dash.

Knickerson said, “We have unicorns, but we’ve restricted their magic. Laws limit them to only the most basic spells such as levitation, detection, or horn illumination, with all other spells banned. Even with levitation, a unicorn is required to register his horn as a deadly weapon if he is able to lift more than ten stone. After all, such magical prowess could also enable him to telekinetically choke a person to death from across a room. Given our unicorn population and the mass of the sun and moon, the maths are unfavourable. Were we to take on this responsibility, thousands of our unicorn subjects would have to train their telekinetic abilities to that potentially-deadly level. Though raising the sun and moon is a draining task, they could still have enough energy left over to pose a threat.”

“Oh, so you want Equestria to do it instead, and risk our unicorns getting that strong?” asked Pound Cake. “We’re already trying to lower our own magic crime rates to where yours are at, and this won’t help us.”

Knickerson said, “Ah, but even sans Mareicopa and Canterlot, Equestria still has four times the unicorn population of Spells. So for the Equestrian unicorns to collectively raise the sun and moon, each unicorn would only need to be a quarter as powerful per capita as the Spelch would have to be.”

“So just like coffee versus tea, huh?” asked Rainbow Dash. “I guess that makes sense.”

“Precisely!” Knickerson exclaimed.

“Wait a minute,” said Pound Cake, holding up a hoof. “What do we get out of the deal? If we raise the sun and the moon by ourselves, your kingdom still gets the benefit but has no costs.”

“You’re wrong on that account,” said Knickerson. “I have talked to my Stirrupean colleagues in Prance and Germaney. In exchange for Equestria carrying this celestial burden, the Stirrupean countries have agreed to form a pact, so that we would consider an attack on Equestria by any external aggressor to also be considered an attack on Stirrup. In theory, this would prevent another Racial War, by discouraging rogue states like the Second Duchy, Zebra Empire, or a de facto independent Mareicopa from launching future attacks on Equestria.”

“Awesome!” said Rainbow Dash. “You guys helped us out during the last war by selling us ships and letting us use your intelligence service, and we really appreciated it… but if we had your entire army behind us next time? If you were actually, directly fighting on our side? We’d be undefeatable!”

“On that note, I do have more good news,” said Knickerson. He smiled and turned towards the door to his office.

Nothing happened.

“I said, ahem… I do have more good news,” Knickerson repeated a little louder.

This time, the door burst open, and there stood the towering, handsome stallion, Agent Con Mane, wearing a dapper tuxedo.

“Dreadfully sorry, I’m a bit hard of hearing,” said Agent Con Mane. “Years of gunfire, explosions, and all.”

Pound Cake chuckled. “Tinnitus is a real bear. Wonder if my sister could cure that…”

Rainbow Dash stuttered, “C-Con Mane? Bu-but…”

“The rumours of my demise were much exaggerated, my dear,” said Con Mane. “You see, when King Blueblood ‘watched me die’ in that shark tank, little did he know that I was deceiving him. I swam to the side of the tank, away from the sharks. What Blueblood thought was my blood in the water was actually a packet of red dye and shark pheromones to draw them away from the real me.”

“That’s bloody brilliant,” Knickerson remarked.

Con Mane continued, “And what he thought was me struggling, my body being consumed by sharks, was actually a magical-electrical decoy. Observe.”

Con Mane removed a metal cone and placed it over the tip of his horn, and it projected a convincing hologram of himself next to him.

“Good day, Double Oat Seven,” said the hologram in a tinny, not-quite-real voice.

“Why, good day to you, too, old chap,” said the real Con Mane, and patted his double on the back. His hoof phased through the double’s ‘back’, and the hologram jittered slightly, but from a distance, it wouldn’t have been easily noticeable.

“I would demonstrate how I can make it appear as though he’s being torn limb from limb, but I see I’m in polite company,” said Con Mane.

“That’s some cool tech,” said Pound Cake. “Who made that?”

“That would be me,” said a voice from outside of Knickerson’s office.

A tan pegasus stallion with a Winglish accent, a slicked-back, brown mane, and an hourglass cutie mark stood in the doorframe.

“Who are you?” asked Rainbow.

“My name is Doctor Simon Percival Whoovensworth the Third, esquire, but you may call me Dr. Whooves for short.”

“You’re an inventor?” asked Pound Cake.

“Of sorts,” said Dr. Whooves. “I go all around the world, finding the best technology and magic, and bringing them together, taking the best parts from each. The Projectonator is a fusion of unicorn projection magic and a smaller, more compact version of a movie theater colour projector. By drawing on the magic in the unicorn’s horn, the projection can become three dimensional and appear almost as lifelike as a real pony.”

“So sort of like those buffalo lightning cannons in Appleloosa,” said Pound Cake.

Whooves nodded. “While those were a dastardly application of science, they were quite smashing nonetheless!”

Knickerson said, “The Uneighted Kingdom has a proud tradition of inventiveness and spycraft, and to inaugurate our nations’ defense pact, I am pleased to permanently transfer Dr. Whooves and Agent Con Mane to Equestria. Given the challenges you face from Pest Control, I believe you need them more than we do.”

Rainbow Dash nodded. “Definitely. Doctor Whooves can help us design the database for Equestria’s new healthcare system, modeled after the one here.”

“I’m not that sort of doctor, and it isn’t quite my area of expertise, but I will see what I can do on the information technology side of things,” said Doctor Whooves.

Rainbow Dash turned to Con Mane. “As for you, Double Oat Seven, I have a new mission for you...”





Country of Criollo, Continent of South Equestria

Along the dirt roads in Criollo, snowy fields sat next to jagged, blue mountain peaks that pierced the sky. Cold wind whipped through the valleys, howling across the plains. The native llamas bundled up in thick coats as they traversed between villages. Walkabout and Pumpkin Cake teleported into the valley, pausing to catch their breath in the thin mountain air. Pumpkin shivered, her breath sending out fog plumes.

“Ah, it’s great to be back in the Southern Hemisphere, where July and August are wintah!” Walkabout exclaimed, sitting down in the snow. 

Pumpkin chuckled. “Oh, speaking of, how is Oatstralia doing these days?”

He shook his head. “Not well. Read it for yourself while I take a smoko.”

An Oatstralian newspaper materialized in front of Pumpkin Cake.





The Brismane Boomerang
September 13th, 2028
Equestrian Revolution Leaves Oatstralian Defences Weak

Since Princess Twilight Sparkle was dethroned last month, Equestrian cities have seceded, outlaw gangs have taken over, and military battalions have defected. The recalcitrant General Soarin’s navy has abandoned its patrol routes in the Southerly Seas. These naval patrols were vital in defending Oatstralia and deterring aggression from Seapony, pirate, and especially Zebra fleets. Analysts believe Emperor Zaporizhia wants to seize Sydneigh and its large zebra immigrant population, and take Oatstralia’s plentiful iron and nickel ore deposits.

Without the Equestrian naval patrols, Oatstralia’s three million citizens will be left with only their own twelve frigates to defend the entire continent, along with the few vessels that the Uneighted Kingdom can spare. After signing a defence treaty with Manehattan, Prime Minister Knickerson has already pledged that his fleet will patrol Equestria’s east coast to prevent any attempt by General Soarin to restore the monarchy. Thus, rumours have abounded that Oatstralia must institute a draft to shore up its own military. 

However, during her press conference Tuesday, Prime Minister Marequarie stated, “Emperor Zaporizhia couldn’t seize Sydneigh like he did Tall Tale. Tall Tale was taken from within, but our zebra immigrants are under control. We’ll continue patrolling our shores to prevent sea tortoise boat arrivals. No draft will be imposed, and our citizens won’t be armed. We will continue enjoying our peaceful lifestyle.”





Pumpkin said, “I don’t know much about your country’s politics, but I’d say that Marequarie…”

“...has got kangaroos loose in the top paddock,” Walkabout finished. “She thinks that Oatstralia is just fine with no naval defenses, and that a Tall Tale situation can’t happen. But the zebra immigrants in Sydneigh are treated worse than in Equestria. As an immigrant myself, I do believe every immigrant deserves a fair go. But ever since Tall Tale, the government’s become very suspicious of zebras. Sydneigh police officers profile and harass them. Zappo must be licking his lips, since he preys on disenfranchisement. That’s not to mention the other hostile regional powers who’d love to get the keys to a shiny new Oatstralia.”

“You’re from a rough neighborhood,” said Pumpkin. “I guess that Oatstralia’s parasitic days of hiding behind Equestria’s navy are over. Your country lacks the ability to defend itself.”

Walkabout sighed. “That’d be right. Like a pack of stahving dingoes, every fossicker nation in the region will come to pluck the lucky continent clean.”

Pumpkin said, “And with your unicorn civilians magically disarmed…”

“Oatstralia will topple quicker than a stack of dominidoos!” he shouted, his face turning red. “Why, if I ever get me horn on those speciesist, spineless, parasitic pollys in Campdrafta, I’ll—”

Pumpkin held up a hoof. “Take it easy. I know you’re upset about Oatstralia, but right now Mareicopa needs to shore up its defenses.”

Walkabout nodded. “You’re right, Pumpkin. I apologize for the outburst. I believe we only have one more zap to go until we’re at our destination.”

They both disappeared, and reappeared further down the dirt road in the snowy valley. A roadsign stood before them.

Cantrip, 3km

The small town of Cantrip was nestled in the mountainside. Unlike the typical adobe huts of other Criollan villages, Cantrip had white marble buildings, topped with domes and spires that shimmered in the sunlight. It reminded Pumpkin of Canterlot’s unique architecture. Almost as if a few buildings from Canterlot had been teleported from North Equestria to South Equestria...

“Cleverly-named town,” said Pumpkin. “Thanks for the lift, Walkabout; I can take myself from here.”

“I’ll wait by the roadsign, then,” he said.

Pumpkin zapped herself over to the entrance of the town with its cobblestone steps. Disguised as Red Velvet, she walked up the road as her hooves nearly slipped on the icy cobblestone. She’d teleport again, but the long journey had exhausted her. Instead, she surveyed Cantrip, a strange, anachronistic relic. Old Second Kingdom flags fluttered from the sides of every shop, with insignia and battle flags of long-disbanded or destroyed military battalions frequently accompanying them.

Unicorns passed Pumpkin by on the street, giving her a few glances, though nopony said anything to her. For such a small town of only a few hundred ponies, everypony probably knew each other. A visitor like her would be out of place, and the town was secluded enough to not be a big tourist destination.

Towards the top of the road sat an office building. The glass double doors reflected bright sun out, and beside the door, a sign proudly read, “New Second Kingdom Institute For Scientific Research.” What a mouthful.

A warm blast of air hit Pumpkin as she walked in, clashing with the goosebumps on her skin and racing of her heart. After consulting the directory, she ambled down the hallway. All along the hallway, picture frames depicted pivotal moments in Second Kingdom scientific history. A unicorn pilot smiled inside the cockpit of the first military biplane. An astronomer gazed out towards a celestial object he’d just discovered.

One photograph depicted a buffalo brave with a lightning cannon strapped to his back. Another depicted the first-ever genetically spliced animal, the deathwasp, with its sharp and deadly stinger. Pumpkin instantly glanced away from those two photographs, not wanting to dwell on the memories that they evoked. 

Despite the SK’s cruel tyranny under Blueblood, it had always amazed Pumpkin Cake what a nation of just five million ponies had achieved scientifically in a decade and a half. If the unicorns ever had a compelling argument for being the master race, these pictures showed it. That, or they showed what achievements were possible without any ethical constraints.

As Pumpkin reached the end of the hallway, she came upon a closed door. She gulped. This was it. She turned her hair and coat back to their true colors, and her heart thumped in her chest as she reached her hoof to the door, but drew it back several times.

Finally, she summoned the courage to knock.

“Come in.”

Pumpkin Cake opened the door. 

“Hello, Pumpkin Cake,” said the biophysicist Doctor Stekton flatly, glancing up from his papers.

Pumpkin jolted. Of all the potential responses that she’d expected from Stekton upon his seeing her, she hardly expected him to greet her. Though not exactly friendly, his voice contained no fear, shock, or disgust.

“Hi… uh, Doctor Stekton…” Pumpkin replied.

“I had long theorized that our paths would cross again someday. Take a seat,” he said. As with his earlier statement, he said it nonchalantly.

She sat down, and emotions came flooding back to her. After more than two years, she was face-to-face with the scientist who’d helped Trixie torment her in Mareicopa. Part of her wanted to make him feel some of the pain that he’d inflicted on her, since he seemed entirely unaware of it, treating her as just another visitor to his office. Part of her wanted to ask him why he was such a cruel psychopath. Part of her wanted to snap his neck instantly. But the biggest part of Pumpkin remembered that regardless of what Stekton had done to her before, right now, she needed his cooperation.

She said, “Doctor Stekton, you and Trixie studied my intangibility spell a few years ago.”

He nodded. “Correct. While studying you, I correctly theorized that the spell was an expression of a rare genetic mutation, while Trixie was convinced that just anypony could learn it. Much of our information extraction procedures from you were unnecessary, as I had reached my conclusions long before Trixie was willing to accept them. Her politics overpowered her science. I was infuriated at having to waste so much of my precious time and vast intellect on a problem that I had already solved.”

Pumpkin almost laughed. For a pony like Stekton, being forced to pursue scientific dead ends must’ve been a form of torture, though nothing like hers. At least it was some small comfort for Pumpkin knowing that Stekton would’ve quit torturing her long before Trixie would’ve, if only because he wouldn’t have needed to.

Pumpkin said, “You’re a gifted scientist, unlike Trixie. You’re a sadistic sociopath… but you’re smart.”

“Such high praise,” said Stekton. “Unfortunately, results matter more than intentions. My laboratory here in Cantrip has little funding. As a wanted war criminal, I must use back channels and consort with shady startups to pursue my scientific endeavors. Right now, I’m limited to doing contract work with small South Equestrian engineering firms studying such pedestrian things as electronic pacemakers and methods to combat parasitic tapeworm infestations.”

“Parasitic infestations, eh? Equestria has one right now,” said Pumpkin. “The hordes of looters have seized power in Manehattan. They’ve declared they have the right to everything of mine that I’ve worked so hard to achieve. They claim they’re owed something just because of their adversity and failures? They have only themselves to blame, because their challenges have been nothing compared to mine.”

She narrowed her eyes at Stekton as she said ‘mine,’ but as usual, he didn’t flinch an inch.

Instead, he grinned ever-so-slightly. “None of the parasites are as magically well-endowed as you, Pumpkin Cake. Why do you think they’re parasites? In nature, a parasite can’t survive but by attaching itself to another, stronger animal for sustenance.”

Pumpkin said, “I don’t know much about biophysics, but I do know your talents are wasted on tapeworms. Help me fight the bigger parasites. Leave this museum, come to Mareicopa, and you won’t be prosecuted. I’ll give you all the money you need for research. You’ll be building weapons grander than lightning cannons.”

Stekton stared blankly at Pumpkin for a few moments. Perhaps he was shocked that Pumpkin had asked him for his help, or perhaps he was amused; she couldn’t tell.

But in a few seconds, he shouted, “Snips! Snails!”

Half a minute later, the two unicorn stallions walked through the door to Stekton’s office. Pumpkin turned around and looked at them, and they both instantly drew back.

“Aaaah! It’s Pumpkin Cake!” Snails exclaimed.

“Please don’t hurt us! We were just following Trixie’s orders back in Copa, honest!” said Snips, falling to the ground and clasping his two front hooves together, pleading. Snails soon joined him.

Pumpkin giggled softly at their groveling, which she allowed to continue for about a minute before replying.

“I won’t kill you, but you’re on a tight leash.”

Doctor Stekton said, “We’ll be working in Mareicopa for Pumpkin Cake now, to build weapons. Pack your things.”

Snails raised an eyebrow. “Uh… Pumpkin Cake wants us to work for her? I thought she hates us and says we’re fasci—”

“Snaaaiiils! Don’t question the Great Pumpkin!” said Snips, slapping Snails.

Pumpkin Cake said, “Yes, you are fascists, and I do hate you. But it turns out, there are even worse fascists than you. Instead of following unicorn supremacy, though, they follow ‘equality.’ It’s the odious idea that a rich, smart, powerful unicorn like me should be made equal to the poorest, dumbest, most unskilled people, by having everything stripped from me and given to them. For all of your ideology’s failings, at least unicorn supremacy has room for superiority somewhere, even if on a primitive, binary scale. Maybe someday you’ll learn that not all unicorns are superior; some are talentless hacks like Trixie. Not all non-unicorns are inferior; some are great like Iron Will. Superiority has many different factors. Open your mind, and you may prove useful to me yet.”





Dodge Junction

Perhaps it was a few days. Maybe a few weeks. Months? Fluttershy didn’t know how long she’d been a prisoner, but this dark, musty, windowless basement gave her no clues. She lived in constant terror of what would happen next. She was fed irregularly, usually a few apples or cherries and a bottle of water, so that gave no hints. Every so often, she’d hear explosions or gunfire off in the distance, screaming, shouting.

Whenever there were explosions, dust and dirt fell down from the ceiling on her, making her think she might be in a crawlspace or dungeon rather than a basement. Though, she did have enough room to stand, so if it was a crawlspace, it was rather large. 

The waterboarding had been the worst. A hooded pony often entered, the blinding light of the desert sun panging Fluttershy’s retinas as he opened the door and closed it again. He carried a wet rag and pail of water, pouring it on her to give her the sensation of drowning. There was no physical damage, but the psychic trauma was very real. He had done this three times, always demanding to know where the explosions were coming from, demanding to know when Starlight Glimmer would come to take everypony’s cutie marks, demanding to know how her rumored intangibility spell could be countered, if at all. Fluttershy told him all she knew. She knew nothing about the explosions, the Equals were less than a twentieth of the entire Encampment, and the threat from Glimmer had been exaggerated since she only took cutie marks voluntarily. Intangibility had no counter, other than building a special cage as Twilight had put around the Royal Palace.

Her answers didn’t satisfy the ‘Pony Punisher,’ though the recent arrival of a new prisoner to the dungeon had made him quit focusing on her. Hoops the pegasus, who Fluttershy remembered had been a mean bully to her when she was a filly back in Cloudsdale, also shared a cell with her. As Hoops was actually a high-ranking Equal himself, the Punisher had focused all of his attention on him since his capture, leaving Fluttershy mostly alone. His tortures made the ones he had used on Fluttershy look benign. The Punisher had broken all of Hoop’s legs, smashed his jaw, and shattered his ribcage, calling him ‘fascist scum,’ an ‘inferior, self-loathing piece of pony trash,’ and saying that when he was done, he would beg Glimmer to get his cutie mark back and ‘rejoin the pony race.’

Of course, all of Hoops’ injuries from the Punisher were in addition to the injuries that Hoops told Fluttershy about from before. After the failed mission when they had initially captured Hoops, they carted him out to display in the town square, as a reminder to the town of the supposed threat from the ‘fascist cabal’ in Manehattan. The Equals’ grenade and gun attack had killed three Pony Peace Patrollers at a roadblock. Townsponies had spat on Hoops, thrown beer bottles at him, and put out their cigarettes on his flank, onto his Equal mark. The propaganda did its work, Hoops said, and the line to sign up for the town militia now stretched around the block.

All of this had made Fluttershy more petrified than she had ever been of anything in her life, and at the moment, she was off loudly sobbing in a corner, curled up in the fetal position and shaking.

Hoops groaned. “Oh, knock it off, Klutzershy! I’m tryin’ to get some sleep before he comes back again.”

Fluttershy blushed. She would hate for her anxiety to disturb Hoops. Even though he had been a bully to her before, years ago, not even he deserved what he was going through. So she got an idea, as she recalled a lullaby that she had often heard before naptime at kindergarten flight school back in Cloudsdale. Hoops would probably remember it, too. She sang it softly and slowly, 

“The weather comes to be
Inside the factory
And dreams of foals are made
Below the cloudy shade
So seek the peace you’ll find
within your dreamy mind.”

Hoops mumbled, “Thanks, Fluttershy.”

Fluttershy smiled. Through an act of kindness, she had not only eased her own mind, but that of a former tormentor of hers. Even the fiercest bear or dragon could be tamed with unwavering placidity. As a mere pegasus, Hoops was no exception.

Of course, Fluttershy’s sort of compassion was fundamentally missing from the Pest Control movement. They were greedy barons out to get whatever they wanted, and the rest of the world and its suffering be damned. If people were injured by dangerous spells and then died in the streets without health care, or if mining operations killed endangered animals and tainted the water with mercury, then that was just collateral damage for them. Pumpkin Cake was as selfish as Trixie Lulamoon had been, but even more dangerously powerful.

The temporary peace was not to last. The door burst open, this time with only moonlight accompanying it, and the Punisher stormed in, screaming and shouting. His horn erupted in a bright flame, bringing light to the dungeon. With his hoof, he whacked Hoops across his already-scarred flank, and levitated him up to eye level.

“Wake up, ya Equal evil! Was burnin’ Manehattan and Filly to the ground not enough for ya sick shits? Look what you’ve done!”

The Punisher levitated up three photographs of destroyed buildings. One showed a mare sobbing in front of her house, where all of the windows had been smashed and the siding burnt. Another showed the side of a school, with mangled playground equipment and red bricks strewn everywhere. The final photo showed a dead, elderly stallion, his belly full of shrapnel shards.

“They’re blindly shootin’ off rockets and mohtars into Dodge! They’ve killed two civilians already! Tell me where the shellin’s comin’ from, RIGHT NOW!”

Hoops stammered. “I-I have no i-i-dea—”

The Punisher whacked Hoops to the ground. The flames from his horn shot out and engulfed Hoops’ equal mark. He screamed and tried to swat out the fire with his hoof, but his broken leg could barely move. 

After about five seconds, the Punisher summoned a fire extinguisher from the wall and sprayed it on Hoops’ flank, which was now burned beyond recognition.

“You meanie!” Fluttershy shouted, slamming her hoof against the ground and her restraints. “How dare you torture somepony like that! Why, I ought—”

The fire extinguisher hit Fluttershy square in the chest, which knocked the wind out of her. She sat, heaving, while Hoops sobbed and wailed. 

The Punisher scowled at Hoops. “What, ya can dish it out, but can’t take it? That hot flank was nothin’. You’ve got no idea what pain is, ya parallel palooka. But I do!”

He removed his hood, and displayed a burnt, blackened face. His nose was entirely gone, with only two holes in its place. His lips had disappeared, leaving his teeth exposed and forever-smiling like a skeleton’s. Fluttershy winced.

“That’s right!” the Punisher shouted. “I was a Manehattan cop! I was patrollin’ the Square, tryin’ to stop ya thieves from lootin’, when a molotov hit my mug, meltin’ half my face off. When I woke up in the hospital a week later, some yellow pegasus Raindrops was servin’ me… ME… an indictment for brutality, along with all the other cops. I got the hell outta there, ‘cause she was lyin’. Ever since I’m on the force, five years, I’d never beat a suspect, and I’d never fired my gun. Not once. Well, maybe I shoulda!”

The Punisher floated up his cat-o-nine-tails, about to whack Hoops, but a gunshot rang out through the basement, and he fell to the floor, blood oozing from his side.

Fluttershy glanced up, seeing a tall, handsome unicorn stallion standing in the door frame, who blew the smoke off of his gun barrel, smiling.

“Who… who are you?” asked Fluttershy.

“The name’s Mane, Con Mane. Mister Punisher here ought to have covered his tracks better. After the explosions today, I knew that he would come to interrogate you. He publically whipped a few donkeys and sheep on the town square, and I followed him back to this location, keeping hidden. Here I am. Now, let’s get out of here before one of the militants comes...”

Shouting and ruckus erupted outside, as the pitter-patter of hoofsteps grew ever closer. Con Mane drew his gun and took cover behind the wall next to the door.