//------------------------------// // Desperate Measures // Story: Equestria Girls: Secrets Beyond the Stars // by GoldenGoomba900 //------------------------------// "How a-How about this iced cream?" Flash's clone asked, offering some sherbet to Sweetie Belle, who just kept crying. "Or this Bindento?" He offered Scootaloo a Game Sphere controller, she responding by pouting and turning away from him. Apple Bloom stared thoughtfully out the window, wondering if her parents were watching her from somewhere, doing all they can to help her. "O-or how about these toys, huh? There's this little po-po-po-horsey who looks just like you!" He said, holding up a plush toy to Apple Bloom. "C-c-come on girls, it's not that bad is it?" "Not that bad?" Scootaloo finally said. "Not that bad? Do you just not know what the End of the World means, Flash? It means WE ALL DIE. Everyone; sinners, saints, lovers, loners, women and children, men and gods, all of us are going to die because of YOU!" "Scootaloo..." Apple Bloom said, trying to silence her. "No Apple Bloom, this is all HIS FAULT! He had to fall in love with some loony from space! He had to blindly follow his heart right off the cliff, and let that red string strangle whoever got in his way! And then he asks US to protect him when HIS stupid, smug face gets us all into trouble!" "Sc-sc-sco-" "NO, shut UP! I don't care what happened in that ship, to you, to the aliens, to our sisters, YOU don't get to talk because YOU did this! You stupid, brainless, RAAAH!" Scootaloo was now crying and ran up to him, throwing weak punches at his stomach. "You idiot! You moron! You- Get out of here! Get out! Get out! Get out!" She fell to the floor as Flash backed away, looking to the other two girls as they came to her side. Scootaloo continued babbling as Flash did as she said, leaving the room and shutting the door behind him. "Was what she said true?" The clone asked, staring at his hands, at his clothes, at himself. "I d-d-don't remember, so maybe it is." The boy looked out the window as a pair of shooting stars flew across the sky. Clenching his fists, he left the mansion. Principal Celestia was in her living room, approaching a painting that had hung up for innumerable years. Taking down the painting revealed a safe, sighing gently she turned the nob. 19 Left, 8 Right, 1 Left and the safe opened. As she pulled the door aside, she gathered several stacks of books, setting them aside to pull out more. Closing the door to the safe, she brushed the dust off the yearbooks, sighing solemnly. The sisters' family had been in the educating field since as long as the family tree went back. Sure, some went on to follow their dreams as bakers and artists and others were stuck as janitors or hung as thieves, but since her ancestors arrived to this country there had always been a member of her family in education. She smiled as she looked at the yearbooks her parents, grandparents, and great grandparents had compiled, gently wiping her tears as she took out the yearbook from her first year, when she was just a humble freshman. "Class of Canterlot High, 1973" she read aloud, a tear rolling down her cheek. Across town, Vice Principal Luna walked the halls of Canterlot High, approaching her office. She stared at the halls of trophies, remembering the fond days when competition was nothing dangerous. When injuries and harm were complete accidents, when fun and education came first. Now, now it seemed every competition wasn't for trophies or plaques, but for their lives. She approached a display comparing the graduating teens to their baby pictures, noting the lack of one for Sunset Shimmer. She wasn't sad she was dying. She and her sister had touched hundreds of lives, and a student body that felt more like a family. She was sad that the children would never experience the ups and downs of life; the joy of marriage, the pain of loss. They'd never become the adults the sisters had promised they would be under their care. It was at that point Vice Principal Luna noticed the door to the wrestling room was left ajar. Nobody slept that night, save for the real Flash, who had been kept out of the loop as he lay in the medical bay, his head being examined. Tested glared at him as the procedure went on, a bruise forming on her cheek. He was the Apple of Discord, he had driven her sister to violence, to ignore her, to make those girls attack the ship. She wanted to do nothing more than to kill him then and there, to show to her sister how foolish she had been for falling for him. "Flash Sentry..." She muttered under her breath, bitterly, grabbing him by the chin. "Dearest Flash Sentry... A flawless clone wouldn't be one one millionth as repugnant as you. It would have your same puny brain, your same weak skin, your same hold on my sister's mind, but it would be FAR preferable to you. It wouldn't play your noisy instrument, even if I'd given it to him with the best teachers in the galaxy. It wouldn't WREST my sister from my hands and make her violently love struck, even with your same 'good looks'. I will never forget the day we met, Flash Sentry. The day EVERYTHING went wrong." She slammed his head back on the metal slab, half-hoping his brain would have rolled out of his opened skull and onto the floor. She approached the finished clone of Sunset Shimmer, taking deep breaths to relax herself. The clone had been doing well, apart from one anomaly. Due to the unusual genes and tampering with sequencing, the girl had aged incredibly. She was with the appearance of a thirty-year old woman, and had unusual senses and abilities. "Awaken..." Tested said, smiling as the woman's eyelids opened. Unlike the Flash clone (who had a robotic brain implanted), she had left this one's brain intact, for scientific purposes, of course. The clone stared at her, pulling the wires from herself as the tube began draining. In the camp, Sunset Shimmer bolted up from her sleeping bag in cold sweat, holding her head and staring at the bag that held her mask. Only four days remained, Microchips thought to himself as he backed up, looking over his masterpiece. Before him was a powerful machine that was once a station wagon. Building upon its faux-wooden frame, he and his geek companions had added spikes and impenetrable metal armor, covered with reflective paint to deflect energy based weaponry. Atop was a powerful turret, built out of a tennis-ball launcher. It would fling anything poured into it at 80 miles per hour, causing damage to even the most armored of enemy. Finally, it had a nitro-based ignition system, that when activated would give it a powerful boost. "We did it. And in one night too!" Microchips laughed. "We'll show those aliens who are the mightiest of them all! Now the only question is who will drive it..." "I will." Said one of the girls with coke-bottle glasses. As she let the group part for her, she approached the side of the car and came to a realization. "Well, why aren't you getting in?" Microchips asked, impatiently. "I think you welded over the door..." She said, trying to find an opening. Across town, the rockers had their own plans. As Flash Drive rocked the night away with far more members than they started with, the sounds of guitars and drums overpowering the neighborhood, an angry mob approached the garage the fifteen or so teens attended. As the sounds of guitars and drums finally subsided, the group opened the door to about thirty to forty people, all VERY unhappy. "It's four in the morning." A short man pointed out, approaching from the mob. "It's the end of the freaking world, and I just want some sleep. So why on Earth are you boys playing as loud as you possibly can?" "There's some girls with us too you know..." A boy with a red mohawk pointed out. "Like, we saw this in a movie man. Aliens are terrified of music. If we play loud and angry enough, their heads will explode." A boy with peach fuzz on his upper lip explained. "...Which hand do you fret with?" The short man asked. "Uh, left, why?" The sound of bone shattering echoed through the neighborhood while the dramas began work for Trixie. "It's not going to work." One of Trixie's assistants finally said, staring at her travelling wagon, the one built not unlike the one her pony self had. On the stage were her and her two assistants, who looked bored or annoyed out of their mind. The dramas formed a small crowd around the stage, most of them looking the same way. "The Great And Powerful Trixie has no clue what you're talking about." She said, smugly. "The aliens aren't going to stop destroying the world to watch you perform street magic." One of the dramas said. "It's not even real magikz!" Photo Finish chimed in. Trixie gasped and recoiled in shock. "What do you MEAN? How dare you insult Trixie like that! She does not perform street magic, she performs REAL MAGIC. The magic Houdini and Merlin dreamed of!" "Merlin wasn't real, was he?" One of the kids asked another, who shrugged. "Can't we use the fireworks as weapons?" one kid asked. "Or use your smoke bombs as cover if we attack?" Trixie gasped. "Never! Trixie would be NOTHING without her props and effects. They come for the pyrotechnics, but they stay for Trixie!" The crowd disbanded as Trixie rambled on and on about how great she was, the only ones who remained after a tangent and display of her magical prowess were her two assistants. On the football field, the jocks were training for battle. "Swing faster! You call that a hit, I call it a strike!" Shouted Spitfire as she overlooked the baseball team aiming and hitting baseballs at targets. "Ground tackle!" She shouted to the football team as they worked on practice dummy, in full uniform. She watched as the kids of Archery Club began working and perfecting their arches, as the soccer team worked on running and kicking, as the track team threw shot puts, javelins, and discus at mannequins, destroying them. "If Inapan had wanted a fight," Spitfire muttered, putting on a football helmet "she is going to get one hell of a fight."