Fight Club

by xTSGx

Midnight vs. Bounty

        “It's nine o'clock, and here are the top stories this hour straight from the desks of the Canterlot newsroom. The shocking and sudden ban of the Underground Fighting League by Princess Twilight Sparkle yesterday continues to cause ripples across Equestria. We'll hear reactions from Parliament and our legal experts weigh in on the possible appeal at nine ten.”

        “An airship has crashed at the Night Guard's Crescent Moon Military Base, injuring twenty-five. Sources indicate the airship, the TMS Dreamscape, was attempting to apprehend Midnight Dream, a bat pony wanted in connection with the injury of the Element of Loyalty, when one of its ballast tanks ruptured, sending it careening into the airfield. No fatalities were reported.”

        “Saddle Arabia has experienced its worst sandstorm in twenty yea—” Midnight tapped her nightstand several times before finally finding her target. The radio switched off. She reluctantly lifted her head from the pillow and winced. Her jaw still hurt and her muscles were tight and stiff. The day after a fight was never pleasant.

        She sat up. The blanket was haphazardly tossed to the side. She yawned and smacked her lips several times. As if muscle pain wasn't bad enough, she had to have one of the worst night sleeps she'd had since the bank sent that letter threatening foreclosure last year. Going home to go to sleep had been a disaster. Every little noise, creak, and squeak from her fifty year old cottage had caused her to shoot out of bed like a rocket, wide-eyed and heart thumping.

        She had tried to psych herself out. The Night Guard would be too busy dealing with the Dreamscape to bother checking her house again. They'd wait at least until tomorrow. But would they really? After the first few hours, wouldn't they just send another team to her house to see if she were there? So every noise became another excuse to make sure her bedroom window was oiled and ready to be opened at a moment's notice.

        She rolled off her bed and limped out of her bedroom, making sure to avoid the dresser that was still knocked over next to her bedroom door. She glanced down at it as she climbed over. At least they had made sure to get their flattened comrades when Shadow captured her. No pony left behind and all that.

        The morning sun filtered in through her kitchen window, much to the delight of the countertop plants, who eagerly sucked in the nourishing sunlight. She smiled, “How's it going today, guys?” The plants waved their leaves happily at their owner in acknowledgment of her and not because she had forgotten to turn the fan off last night that was in the living room.

        “That's good. Today's a really big day, you know,” she grabbed a teapot from the cupboard and filled it with some tap water, “I'm going to be turning myself in. Middy's got to get those bits and she thinks this is the best way,” the faucet was turned off and the teapot placed on the stove. She always hated this part. The gas was turned on and she fumbled with a match. One small puff of fire, reflexive recoil of a hoof, and twinge of regret over not buying a new stove later and the water was on its way to boiling.

        She looked from the teapot back to the plants, “I just hope you guys will be okay. Those water bulbs won't last forever,” she walked over and lightly ran her hoof over the many plants' leaves, “You see, I'm probably gonna be gone for a while. You might not see me again. In fact, that's almost a guarantee.”

        Each plant looked much better than they had previously. Their leaves were green. Their stems strong. And there wasn't an aphid or caterpillar to be found, “Don't worry. You guys will do fine without me. You all ready all know each other and you won't have to have me constantly nagging you. You'll finally get your independence.”

        She sat down at her kitchen table to wait for the water to come to a boil, “I just hope you all will still remember me even after I'm long gone. Because I'll remember you.” They were healthy and strong. They'd do just fine without her. She really had nothing to worry about. Her eyes wandered over to the mallet that was still on her kitchen floor.

        Well, she did have one thing to worry about. A certain purple thing with wings and a horn. If what Shadow said was true—and why wouldn't it be? Why else would she have been taken to the Aerodrome?—then once she turned herself in, her next stop would be that dead end farming town near Canterlot that always seemed to attract everypony's attention.

        She gulped and glanced over to the stove. Was the water ready yet? Anything to take her mind off the likely punishment. Because while jail time or banishment was still a possibility, Midnight couldn't help but feel that thanks to her defeat of Rainbow Dash, Princess Twilight would favor a much more unique punishment. If she could enchant a bottle with something like that, the possibilities were endless—wringers, steamrollers, mallets, boulders—you name it.

        She'd never been flattened before. M-Maybe it wasn't that bad? She slumped down into the chair and rested her head on the table. Who was she kidding? Of course it was that bad. Spitfire. Night Terror. Sky Fighter. Echo. Shadow. Did any of them enjoy it? It would not be a pleasant experience. Okay, it technically would, since the princess would hypnotize her into liking it, but that didn't very well count.

        Was it really worth it? A hundred thousand bits for Luna knows how long as a wafer thin light gray and purple sheet. She lifted up her head and looked at the trash can. Yesterday's junk mail was balanced precariously on top of a mound of apple cores and empty tin cans. Her fighting days were over, but the bills weren't. They'd keep coming. Thanks to Dash and Spitfire, she had a nice little buffer in her bank account, but that wouldn't last forever.

        The simple truth was that she wasn't making enough bits as a gardener. Twenty thousand bits a year—and that was if she was lucky—just wasn't going to cut it. Not with a mortgage, anyway. But a hundred thousand bits certainly would. A hundred thousand bits would be all she'd need. She'd be able to stay in Hollow Shades and garden to her heart's content.

        She could worry about Princess Twilight's punishment until all the water in that teapot evaporated, but the fact remained she could be forced through dozens of wringers and pressed wafer thin, squashed into a disk and used as a coaster, or pounded flat as cardboard and placed as a decorative bat pony cutout for five years before it would no longer be worth it.

        A hundred thousand bits was just too irresistible. No mortgage. No worrying every time you got the mail. No doubt over what that image on your butt really meant. How could anypony say no to something like that?

        Midnight looked back one last time at her garden as she soared into the sky. Goodbyes were always the hardest. She could only hope the tomatoes would comfort the poor watermelon vines in their time of need. They'd always been so self-conscious and even though she made sure to reassure them that she wasn't leaving because of their lackluster performance, she couldn't help but wonder if they'd always blame themselves for her departure.

        The light orange scarf wrapped around her neck flapped and fluttered in the cool morning air. Occasionally, she had to fuss around with it to stop it from touching her leathery wings as they flapped. Getting a wing caught in a scarf and going into a death spiral was not her ideal way of dying. She looked forward from the deadly scarf at the hazy outline of Mount Canterhorn that sat on the horizon and the city that always seemed to be on the precipitate of sliding off the side of it. Why the unicorns choose to make that their home would always baffle her.

        It was miles away. Forty to be precise. A long flight from Hollow Shades wasn't ideal—especially with the way her wings felt after yesterday—but she didn't have much of a choice. Not only was she not going to pay the ten bits Equestria Central Railroad was charging, but she had a hundred thousand bits hanging over her head like an anvil ready to crush her into an accordion.

        Taking any form of mass transit was sure to get the authorities—or even some wayward pony looking to cash in—on her tail. No thank you. She'd rather spend several hours flying there than deal with a fight on a train. And it's not like it was that bad. The thermals helped to boost her lift and she didn't have to constantly flap those tired wings. Most of the time she'd be gliding.

        The weather team had apparently decided not be be insane and actually made it much cooler. It'd only get up to about sixty and that was at ground level and not twenty-five hundred feet up. Hence the scarf. She took a deep breath of the fresh, cool air as she flapped her wings several more times to gain an extra boost from the thermal before settling back into a glide.

        The houses and barns below slowly moved by. Hollow Shades was a sprawling metropolis compared to the countryside outside of the forest. Hills, farms, and the occasional general store dotted the landscape. Several railroads, straight as a board compared to winding roads and streams, stood in stark contrast to their surroundings as they dug their way through the landscape. No wonder the train was so much faster.

        Canterlot edged ever closer. She'd been at it for a few hours. The barns and farmhouses had given way to small towns. The whole of which were clumped desperately along a single road or railroad, as if it was the blood that gave the towns their life. Hollow Shades very likely would have been nothing more than one of those many small town she had flown over if it hadn't been for the Night Guard.

        Just one more thing to thank them for, she supposed. If only they hadn't come to define the entire bat pony species. With all of the good, came the bad. She shook her head. Now wasn't the time to think about that. She had to get ready for when she arrived. Canterlot wasn't the most... logical city in Equestria. She'd been there before for jury duty. A shudder ran up her spine.

        Thank goodness they hadn't selected her because of her possible “Lunar fanaticism.” She probably had a good discrimination case, but who in Equestria would file a lawsuit to serve on a jury? If that wasn't fanatical, she didn't know what was. Either way, Canterlot was insane. Limited space plus an aristocracy obsessed with the past meant city planning was a nightmare.

        Every building was an historical landmark for Starlight the Poorly Endowed's achievement or had been passed down from generation to generation and was the cornerstone of the Earl of Too Much Money's family. She wondered if they had built anything new in decades. The buildings were probably as old as Princess Celestia's eyelashes.

        She'd be lucky if she could twist her way through the city and find where the Office of the Vanguard was actually located. The government bureaucracy was as tangled and chaotic as the city streets that lead to it. One ministry was on one side of town, the other was in the bowels of Canterlot Castle or at the top of one of the spires. No wonder the Night Guard had relocated to Hollow Shades.

        A sudden gust of wind caused her to stumble and spin. Her scarf came undone and was carried away by the blustery wind. She quickly used her tail and wings to reorient herself. Mount Canterhorn was now so close, the winds that whipped around it were starting to be a problem. She snorted in annoyance as she watched the orange fabric flap away. She'd paid good money for that scarf. So what if it was from a second hoof store? It was still good money.

        Her wings were already starting to throb from fighting against the wind. And she was still a mile away from the polished white bricks that made up the city's walls. The heavy winds would make gliding impossible. She just hoped her wings were up to the extra work.

        She looked down at the mountain and noticed a light purple blob that was sitting on a small plateau suddenly jump into the air. It struggled against the winds but gradually flapped and twisted its way into the air. Must be a hiking pegasus. She returned her attention to Canterlot, which was becoming more and more detailed as she neared. There was the Castle, the statue garden, the cramped business district, the gaudy marble mansions. The city looked just as ancient as it always did.

        The alleys in the business district would be a good place to land. Quiet, secluded, and as far away from the Royal Guard as possible. No point in getting the entire Equestrian military after her. She might even be able to get a travel brochure and figure out just where she was supposed to go. A sudden uncomfortable feeling settled into her stomach. Let's just hope the Vanguard wasn't in the Castle. She doubted the Royal Guard would be so incompetent as to let a wanted fugitive waltz in.

        The winds picked up. Every few seconds a gust would overcome her and send her spinning and tumbling end over end in the air. She winced as her wings voiced their displeasure at the strain she was putting them through. Another gust hit her and flipped her upside down, where she saw the form of a light purple pegasus a hundred yards behind her.

        “Ah, Midnight Dream, is it? We finally meet,” Midnight slowed to a stop as the mare caught up to her.

        “Uh, hello?” She shouldn't have stopped. Nothing good could come from stopping.

        The mare smiled, “It's actually quite fortunate. I was just on my way to Hollow Shades from the Office of the Vanguard when look who happens to be flying in.”

        “Oh no,” The mare's smile turned more aggressive at the sight of the panicking bat pony. Dread quickly filled Midnight. She didn't have time for this. Not only that, but her wings were already killing her after a five hour long flight. She just didn't have the energy for another desperate fight. Not even Bill scheduled fights back-to-back and he had tried to turn her into a frisbee.

        Instead of letting the mare talk, where she'd undoubtedly go into some monologue about how she were going to defeat her and blah blah blah, she glanced back at Canterlot and bolted for it as fast as her pained wings could take her. The mare's smile didn't budge, “They always try to run.” She immediately started to pursue.

        Midnight glanced over her shoulder at the purple mare. She furrowed her brow in confusion. Sure, the pegasus was chasing her, but it wasn't so much a chase as it was a leisurely flight. Unlike Spitfire, or Dash—or any of her opponents now that she thought about it—this mare was content to just hang back and follow. She wasn't trying to catch up at all.

        Suited her just fine. She eased up and let her wings relax a little. No point in bring them to their breaking point if there wasn't any risk of being caught. The two slipped past Canterlot's outer wall and the blustery winds were quickly replaced by soft, gentle breezes. Her eyes focused in on the business district. She didn't know what the mare's plan was, but if it meant she could land and lose her in the maze that is Canterlot, all the better.

        Star Breeze looked on at the bat pony as she tried to slip behind a row of boutiques and out of sight. It was a decent strategy, she'd give Midnight that, but it was an all too common one. Try and hide, lay low for a little while, maybe blend in with a crowd of tourists and quietly walk out of town. It could work, if she weren't one of the rarest species in Equestria.

        Tufted eyes. Smooth, featherless wings. Whatever was going on with those weird eyes. That pony couldn't stick out more if she had a bright red coat and jet black mane. There'd be no trouble spotting her. So it was best to just let her run. Run, fly, pant—wear herself out in panic trying to escape. Then all she had to do is walk up, tie her legs up with some rope and cash in her new retirement payment. Sometimes, bounty hunting was the easiest job around.

        She landed and checked some dumpsters and trash cans for the lean fugitive. The back alleys were much cleaner than one would expect. The garbage was neatly piled into the cans. The hoof crafted cobblestone path was swept clean of debris. The fresh pant on the walls tidily concealed any graffiti. Canterlot always tried to shine and sparkle as brightly and arrogantly as possible—it was just one more thing the unicorns could flaunt over the rest of the kingdom.

        Star's ears perked at the sound of garbage cans getting knocked over, “Lunadamn it!” She smiled and flew over to the voice. Midnight wouldn't be too tired to put up one of her complicated fighting routines if she just let her rest, now would she?

        Midnight glared at the cause of her discovery and defeat—a pair of empty metal trash cans. The sound of wings flapping caused her to look back at the light purple pegasus. She grit her teeth, “Just leave me alone, will ya?!”

        Star landed and chuckled, “Only if you can pay me a hundred thousand bits as compensation,” she paused for a second before shrugging, “Oh, who am I kidding. I'd double cross you and turn you in anyway. Twice the bits for half the work.”

        “You're honesty is very reassuring.” Midnight grabbed one of the trash can lids and held it up in front of her like a shield.

        Star rolled her eyes, advancing several feet, “Who do you think I am? Sky Fighter? I'm not just going to blindly charge at you. I do my homework before I go after a target. I've seen those recordings.”

        Midnight backpedaled through the side alley and toward the road, “Then you know not to mess with me.”

        Star continued to creep forward, “No, I know not to get near you when you're next to something that can flatten a pony out,” she looked around at the brick walls on either side of the narrow alley, “And unless these walls can suddenly slam together, you're not near something like that at the moment.”

        Star's pace started to get faster, causing Midnight to stumble backward. Star smiled as the bat pony neared the alley's entrance, “Better watch yourself. Bat ponies aren't exactly the most common thing in Canterlot. Who knows how much attention you'll attract. The Royal Guard might even get involved.”

        Midnight tossed the lid at Star like a frisbee and flapped into the air. Star knocked the lid to the ground with a clatter and looked up at the fleeing bat pony, “You really do like running, don't you?” she lazily spread her wings and hovered up after the gray pony.

        Midnight swept around the lightning rods, flag poles, and little spires that dotted the roofs of the various shops and restaurants that lined the business district. Maybe she could just head straight to the Vanguard? Assuming they didn't think her purple pursuer had actually captured her and pay her instead. And that she could actually find where the Vanguard was located.

        A larger, fancier granite office building caused her to change course and head toward the aristocracy's mansions. She looked to her left at Canterlot Castle and the courtyard that had several groups of white pegasi sparing in it. She'd stay as far away from there as possible. She passed over a chiseled stone statue of Luna. Behind her, the athletic young pegasus continued her slow, methodical chase.

        Midnight panted. There was that statue again. She'd looped over it so many times, she could see the fumble the carver had made on Luna's snout, causing it to be more jagged and pointy than the real thing, and the bronze plaque that was bolted to the statue's pink granite base. This was insane. She looked back over her shoulder. Star was still several dozen yards behind her.

        Her wings were killing her. And she was positive that wasn't a metaphor. They were going to literally murder her at some point in the near future as revenge for what she was putting them through. They'd probably just seize up and refuse to move one day and she'd plummet to her death while they cackled in sadistic glee.

        She was also starving. She hadn't eaten since breakfast and that was a five hour flight, plus at least another two hours flying in circles around Canterlot, ago. She was also sure she was turning into a mummy with how thirsty she was. She really should have thought things through a little better. Who else but her wouldn't bring a bottle of water on a five hour long flight to Canterlot?

        Just giving up was looking like a better and better opt—a bowling ball encased in a red aura shot just a few feet to her left. Great. Now she was hallucinating from hunger and thi—the next bowling ball didn't miss and hit her square in the gut, knocking the wind out of her and sending her crumpling to the ground.

        Star's jaw fell open in shock, before it just as quickly slammed shut in a snarl. She glared down at the smirking unicorn below, “Spell, you coneheaded prude, what do you think you're doing?! This is my catch!”

        The light yellow unicorn glanced up, “Oh? I don't see your name on her, featherbrain.” Star growled at the unicorn before flying down to the downed bat pony.

        Midnight wobbily poked her head out of the white and orange debris she had landed on. She shook her head to try and clear it of the stars and dancing apple saplings. She looked around. Where had she landed? A large pit had been dug into the road next to her. Cones and caution tape surrounded the pit. Off to the side sat a bulldozer and—her heart either sank or leapt in joy, she wasn't sure—a steamroller.

        On the opposite side of the hole were several large concrete drainage tubes. Canterlot was so old, it was rotting from the water pipes out. She stepped out of the pile of wood. To her left was a red and white wooden road block. Good thing she had something to break her fall. But why did she fall in the first place? She looked behind her at the sparkly pink bowling ball that lay in the pile of wood. Who would throw a bowling ball at her?

        She turned her head around just in time for Star to slam into her. The two broke through the other wooden barrier and skidded to a stop just in front of the hole, “Change of plans, Midnight,” Star looked back and the unicorn before looking down at the dazed bat pony, “Hope you're tired enough because I gotta get you to the Vanguard quick bef—yah!”

        Star grabbed Midnight and dove into the hole. A loud crash and a small cloud of dust was kicked up. Midnight poked her head out of the hole. Where the two had previously been now sat an anvil dug into the road. Midnight snorted. Of course there was. What next? Was she going to go flying into a wringer?

        Her tail lit up in a golden aura and she was lifted into the air. No, no, no! She was being hyperbolic! With a scream, she shot through the air and winced in anticipation of the wringer that was no doubt about to receive a lean bat pony. With a jerk, she came to rest, still suspended upside down a few feet off the ground.

        “So, you're the pony worth a hundred kay?” Midnight opened her eyes to see a young yellow unicorn smugly eyeing her over, “And a bat pony, too. Don't see many of you crawl out of that hole in the forest you live in.”

        Midnight scowled. Just what she needed. A unicorn. Shed never fought a unicorn before and good thing too. They have such a big advantage it's not even fair. Flying spells. Gardening spells. Weather spells. A unicorn could do everything the other species could do and then some. How do you compete with that?

        “Magic Spell, back off,” Midnight twisted around to see the pegasus hovering several yards away, teeth clinched.

        What did she call the unicorn? “What did you say her name was?”

        Star grinned, “You heard right. Magic Spell. I couldn't believe it myself when I first learned about it,” her grin widened when she saw the angry scowl that now adorned Spell's face, “The name fits perfectly. Plain, boring, unoriginal. It suits you well, Spell.”

        Midnight struggled to suppress a laugh as she looked at the unicorn, “Y-Your name's M-Magic Spell?” her diaphragm could no longer hold back and she erupted with laughter, “Magic Spell! I can't believe it. I've heard some names in my day, but Magic Spell?” she wiped the tears from her eyes, “What's your dad's name? Male Horn?”

        Star snorted and collapsed to the ground in laughter at the innuendo, “Oh, Celestia above. Male Horn! Th-That's a good one. I'll have to remember that one.”

        Midnight clenched her ribs. She shouldn't have made that joke, “I-I can't breath!”

        One of Magic Spell's eyes twitched, “Shut up!” she flung the bat pony as hard as she could into a nearby door, causing Midnight to crash through it and skid into the candy shop on the other side.

        “Ooohohhhhh.” Midnight rubbed her head. She shouldn't have made that joke.

        A golden aura enveloped her and she was lifted off the tile floor. Spell appeared in the ruined doorway, “If you're going to be so crass as to insult my name, maybe I should just end this right now,” she smirked, “I wonder what a bat pony cube looks like?”

        Midnight's eyes widened in fear as she felt the telekinesis start to tighten around her. She tried to squirm and kick, but was fully restrained by the telekinetic field. She grunted as the magic started to compact her down. This was bad. Really, really bad.

        The pressure suddenly lifted as Spell flipped over top of her and crashed into a bin full of bubble gum. Her hind legs and light brown tail drooped out from within the bin. Midnight dropped to the ground, her limbs popping back out from their slightly compacted state. She peeled her tail from off her back and looked back at the door at the now grinning Star.

        “Ha! Serves you right, Spell,” she looked to Midnight, “You know, I probably should have let her finish compressing you into a cube. It would have made this part a lot easier.”

        Star lunged at Midnight, who jumped into the air to avoid the light purple mare. This was getting out of control. Eventually one of them would succeed in capturing her and her dream of a hundred thousand bits would go up in smoke. They could keep fighting whatever little grudge they had with each other. She had a Vanguard to get to.

        Without waiting to see which of the bounty hunters would attack her first, she flew out of the shop and back into the air. She hovered several stories off the road and scanned Canterlot's rooftops for a moment, trying to get her bearings. It might be near the High Court Building. A crash from the candy shop decided it. High Court Building it w—a bin of bubble gum broke against her, causing her to clench her teeth in pain and once again drop to the ground.

        This time, she hit one of the concrete drainage pipes and rolled off, landing next to it. Pieces of bubble gum rained down on her as she rubbed her head once more. She just couldn't catch a break, could she? “Are you tired out yet, Midnight?” she looked up to see Star hovering above her, “Just think. A warm bed. Three meals a day. All you have to do is come with me and it'll all be over.”

        Midnight shot Star a look before standing up, “An airship couldn't catch me. I'm not about to let a pegasus.”

        “Oh, ho, ho,” Star chuckled, “Aren't we boastful? I suppose you deserve to be a little bit. Spitfire, Rainbow Dash, a dirigible. You could be a Captain of the Guard at the rate you're padding out your resume.”

        “You sound just like a stallion I know.” She hoped Tower was okay. Attempts to arrest her or not, she'd still feel terrible if her screw ups had gotten him hurt.

        “Sounds like a reasonable guy. You should listen to his advise and give up.”

        “I'll give up all right. Just as soon as the Vanguard pays me the bounty.” she glanced back nervously at the drainage pipe she was next to. She needed to get away from that thing. It looked heavy and was cylindrical. Experience taught her that was a combination that could only lead to one thing. And she wasn't about to be flattened this close to getting her bits.

        “Pay you?” Star snorted in bemusement, “As if there isn't enough competition in this business already, now I have to deal with the targets competing as well?” she shot down and grabbed onto Midnight before she could react, “How 'bout this? I knock you out. End this little fight already. Get my bits. And move on to the next bounty.”

        Star pushed her against the concrete pipe. Time for more close quarters fighting. Midnight tried to block the ache the resonated from her legs and wing muscles and focus on the athletic pegasus in front of her. If her body had a say in the matter, it would have wholeheartedly voted in favor of surrendering to the pegasus and spending the next few weeks relaxing in a jail cell—or magically enchanted bottle as was more likely.

        Just as Star raised a hoof to punch her, the drainage pipe lit up in a golden telekinesis. The bottom fell out of Midnight's stomach. If she got out of all this still in three dimensions, she'd probably have a lifelong fear of heavy objects. The pipe slowly started to roll toward the duo. Midnight felt the concrete press against her back. She had to move fast before her tail or hooves got pinched beneath it.

        Star's grip loosened as she stared in shock at the pipe's unexpected movement. Midnight smirked. Just the opportunity she was looking for. She punched Star in her chest, knocking the mare back a couple yards. Midnight jumped into the air just as she felt her rear hooves start to get pinched by the pipe.

        Star snapped her gaze from the slowly rolling pipe back to Midnight and growled, “I should have figured something like this would happen,” she flapped her wings and rose up in pursuit, “It's all that damn Spell's fault. I had this thing in the bag until she showed up.”

        A sudden shooting pain in her wing caused Midnight to falter and stumble back to the ground. She furiously rubbed the wing with a hoof several times to try and relax it. She just couldn't keep doing it. It was just too much. The Night Guard fight. The blimp battle. The flight to Canterlot. Now this. Her body couldn't take much more of this.

        Star crashed into her and the two rolled several times. Purple hooves dug into Midnight's sore chest, “It’s about time I got my bits,” Star hadn't even bothered to pin her rear hooves down, let alone her wings.

        Midnight jerked upright—all those sit-ups finally came in handy—and used her rear hooves to kick Star off her. The light purple pegasus stumbled back and bumped into something hard and cold. She looked back and her jaw dropped as the concrete pipe pressed her white tail against the hard road surface.

        Midnight smiled. It wasn't a steamroller, but it would do. Star Breeze leapt into the air in panic but her fate was already sealed as she was jerked back to the ground by her secured tail. She tried to pull it free, even as more and more of it slipped underneath the pipe, before resorting to trying to gnaw it off with her teeth.

        Finally, in desperation, she propped her rear hooves against the pipe and tried to use her powerful thigh muscles to free the trapped tail. But her hooves slipped due to the unrelenting telekinetically induced motion of the pipe and were quickly pinched flat under the heavy concrete.

        “Gah!” her wings flared out in panicked surprise, “O-Oh no! No, no, no, no.” she looked back at her hind legs as they quickly joined her rear hooves as flattened out light purple ribbons, “No!” she tried to pull her way out from underneath the makeshift roller. Having squished hind legs was better than becoming a pegasus pancake, after all. But it was no use.

        She looked back up at Midnight, who was sitting a safe distance in front of the pipe and rapidly flattening mare, “I-I'll get you! You and Spell. I—ergh!” The pipe rolled over her flanks and started to squash her lithe belly flat, “I-I don't know how, b-but I will—yeeagh!” the pipe scrunched down her still flared out wings and continued forward over her back, unimpeded by the pegasus.

         Star tried one last time to free herself from a fully flat fate and lifted up what little was left of her unflattened athletic body with her forehooves. She yanked and pulled several times as hard as she could, before she panted in exhaustion. Her forelegs folded against her chest as the pipe rolled forward and squashed the rest of her body out.

        She looked up at Midnight, “I-I'll get o-out of this,” the large drainage pipe rolled over top of her head, “Ohhmmmm,” she whimpered just as the pipe slowed to a stop. The very tip of her purple muzzle stuck out from beneath the heavy concrete pipe, while the rest of her body was squashed flat underneath it.

        The golden aura that had surrounded the pipe since it started rolling dissolved away, “Well, well. It's not the pony I was aiming for,” Magic Spell confidently strode up to the pipe and the pony flattened under it. She smiled smugly when she saw Star's muzzle poking out, “But I'll take it.”

        “I—augh—I hate you so much,” Star moaned out.

        Spell looked from the flattened pegasus over to Midnight, “Looks like it's just you and me,” her horn lit up, “And I've got magic on my side.”

        The bell that hung above the front door clanged. Dry Linen looked up from his magazine and smiled warmly, “Ah, Docket. Right on time,” he tossed that week's edition of Sports Weekly onto the counter and got up from his chair.

        Docket Number took off his flannel colored flat cap and placed it and his ticket onto the counter, “You should know by now, Dry. I'm never late,” Docket looked at the rows and rows of freshly cleaned plastic covered clothes, “Business's picking up?”

        “Oh, yes. Everypony's getting back into the late-spring drive. Getting ready for the busy summer season,” Linen picked up the ticket and walked around the rows of hangers and steamed clothes, searching for the one with Docket's name on it. He briefly looked at the stallion, “Not to mention that upcoming session of the High Court.”

        Docket looked down at the copy of Sports Weekly, “Now who said anything about us having a session? The fall term doesn't start until September.”

        Linen shifted his focus to another row of hangers and started to flip through them, “It's the talk of Canterlot. All those Benefactors for that fighting league—they're not just gonna let this whole thing implode in on them. Why, it's even rumored there's one on the High Court.”

        Docket looked up from the fighting league's section of the magazine he had turned to, “Oh? You should know never to trust the rumors in this town.”

        “I know, I know,” he took a hanger off and glanced at it, before gently folding it onto his back, “I just find it interesting that right after all this talk of appeals and emergency stays, you happen to come in wanting your robes laundered.”

        Docket quickly shut the Sports Weekly and slide it back to its original spot, just as Linen appeared from the winding line of plastic covered hangers, “Can't a guy just get his clothes washed?”

        Linen placed the hanger of black robes onto the counter, “Sure you can. Provided you pay, of course. Thirty bits.”

        “Thirty?! It was twenty-five last time,” Docket grumbled as he fished into his leather pouch for the bits.

        “Last time wasn't on a Sunday. You could have waited until tomorrow,” he smirked, “Unless you had to have the robs early for some reason.”

        Docket let the bits drop noisily onto the counter, “Being nosy won't do anything for your business, Dry. Not in this town, anyway,” he picked up the hanger and draped it over his back before putting his hat back on, “Thanks for the dry cleaning.”

        “Thanks for the b—” the door burst open, slamming the little bell against the wall before it could make a noise. Midnight just as quickly just it and leaned against it, panting. Linen stared at the bat pony, “...Can I help you, miss?”

        Midnight raised a hoof wearily as she continued to suck in air, “J-Just... give me a sec,” Linen and Docket exchanged glances. Midnight took a few deep breaths to steady herself before she looked up, “There is, actually. Could you point me in the direction of the Office of the Vanguard?”

        Docket looked at the tired bat pony, “The Vanguard? They're over in Canterlot Castle. Spire Five, if I recall.”

        Midnight rubbed her eyes with a hoof, “Of course they are. Lemme' guess, they're right next to the Royal Guard?” Maybe this was all a mistake. Maybe she should just cut her loses and get the next ticket to Griffia-Minotaury.

        “While I'm unfamiliar with the Royal Guard's operations, I'm pretty sure they're still in the castle prop—” Docket jumped, sending his clean robes to the ground, as the glass door shattered from a mailbox hitting it. Midnight was knocked to the ground.

        “I'm glad I had that safety glass installed,” Linen mumbled to himself. Midnight looked back at the small pile of glass pellets that now lined the broken door. She was pretty glad, too.

        “Are you quite done? I'm growing increasingly bored of these games,” Spell stepped through the broken glass door and into the laundry mat.

        “And I'm growing increasingly tired of ponies barging into my business,” Linen huffed, “If you're here to drop off some clothes, please get a ticket. If you're here to pick up clothing, please present me with a ticket. Otherwise, I kindly ask you to leave,” he looked at the glass shards and twisted metal frame of the door, “But not before you pay for a new front door.”

        Midnight pointed at Spell, “That's all on her. I had nothing to do with that,” she'd be compressed into a bottle before she was forced to pay for what somepony else had caused.

        “I don't care who it's on. Somepony's either gonna to fork over some bits, or I'm calling the Royal Gu—yeeaugh!” the blue earth pony was hoisted into the air by a golden telekinesis, “Put me down right now!”

        Spell unceremoniously shoved him into the mailbox, his rear hooves kicking from the small opening in the mailbox's top, “I can't have anypony interfering in this—not when I'm this close to getting that bounty,” she looked over menacingly at Docket Number, “Would you like to join the earth pony?”

        The color drained from his face, “Oh, Celestia. Not another mugging. At least it's not with a machete this time. Here, take my bits. Just leave me alone,” he threw his leather pouch at the unicorn, who stared flatly at him as it hit her on the face.

        She walked up and punched him in the face. He went sprawling against a wall, his hat landing several feet away, and slide to the ground in a heap. Midnight crept over to the bag and opened it. She wasn't going to take advantage or anything, but he did generously offer his bits. She wasn't one to pass up such a gracious gift.

        A few dozen bits were juggled to one side. A laminated card had grabbed her focus. She looked it over and her jaw dropped in shock, “Uh, Magic Spell?”

        Spell stopped rubbing her sore hoof. Just another reminder to always use magic. She looked over in anger, “What?!”

        “I think you just punched out the Chief Justice of the High Court.”

        “Well, then. All the more reason to end this fight, already,” Midnight dove at the unicorn before she could light up her horn. She quickly flicked the horn, causing Spell to stumble back and hiss in pain. She closed her eyes tightly and rubbed her horn, which sizzled and sparked, “That's the last time you'll get away with that!”

        She looked up. The bat pony was nowhere to be found. Several of the hangers swayed back and forth. Spell grit her teeth in frustration. It was supposed to be so simple. Grab Midnight, compress her into a tightly packed cube, and then chortle in glee as she decides what to buy with the huge sack of bits.

        Spell walked behind the counter and through the hangers. She glanced around for any signs of the mare that continued to elude her. She turned her head and shot a bolt of magic at a laundry basket. She could have sworn she heard that pony over there. The hangers gave way to a spacious room lined with industrial washers.

        She looked at the wringers and steam presses near the center of the room with a wary eye. She'd heard the news and read the newspapers. That pony seemed to have a thing for those kind of machines. She wasn't about to end up like Star Breeze.

        She slowly walked past two of the washers, making sure to carefully walk over the extension cords that snaked their way from the washers to the wringers and presses. She scanned the room for gray or purple fur as she walked. Midnight poked her head out from the gap between the washers. It was a pretty tight squeeze, but if there was one thing she wasn't, it was fat. Or rich. Or not incredibly sore. As she unwedged her hips from the gap, Spell looked back, grinning, “Ah, there you are. Oh my. Are you stuck?”

        “Uh, no.” Midnight tugged to try and get free.

        “Here, let me help you,” the washers lit up in that cursed aura and creaked as they began to slide together.

        Midnight gasped. She grabbed her flank with her forehooves and started to twist as she felt the heavy washers push against her. She had to be honest. In a room full of wringers and steam presses, being flattened out by a pair of washing machines wasn't her top guess for getting squashed flat. It wasn't even on the list.

        With a pop and a shooting pain Midnight really hoped wasn't a hip dislocating, she was pushed out from between the two washers. She didn't have time to think. She stood up and rushed Spell. She had to be as aggressive—and as close to the unicorn—as possible. It was her only chance. Spell had all the range in the world. But she was terrible at hoof-to-hoof combat, as most unicorns were. They talked their big arrogant talk about how superior unicorn magic was, but were as physically weak as wet cardboard.

        Just as she leapt into the air to tackle Spell, she was instantly stopped by that damn golden aura. Spell smirked as she looked at the pony frozen in her magic, “It was a valiant effort, Midnight. But you must have realized not to bring hooves to a magic fight. You'll lose every time.”

        Midnight struggled in the aura. A better trained pony could fight and break free of telekinesis, or so those magazine articles had claimed. But the rec center hadn't offer any classes on magic resistance—let alone free ones—so she was stuck futilely struggling against the tightest of bonds.

        “I could crush you into a cube, but you know?” Spell eyed one of the wringers, “Why not take advantage of the environment?” Midnight rolled her amber eyes. Of course she'd eventually come face to face with a clothes wringer. It was her destiny, “That way, I can let something else flatten you out and I don't have to waste the energy doing it myself.”

        Spell flipped the switch on the wringer's side. The hum of the wringer's motor quickly filled the air as it wound up to speed. Midnight tried one last desperate thrust, but it was no use—Spell's telekinesis was just too strong. She flinched as she felt her purple tail slip between the rollers and yank at her rump, seemingly eager to get to the athletic mare.

        The telekinesis dissipated and Midnight fell to the tile floor in a heap. Spell looked on with a wide smile as she watched Midnight get slowly dragged toward a very flat fate. Midnight tried to pull herself free. There had to be some way out of this. She hadn't flown all the way to Canterlot, just to wind up gently fluttering her way to the Vanguard. She looked over her shoulder at the electric rollers.

        She could quite easily reach the off switch on its side—it was a clothes wringer, not some flattening torture device—but that would do her little good when the unicorn could just turn it back on again. She needed to fully distract the mare somehow so she could yank her tail free of the squashing rollers.

        Speaking of, she stumbled back as the wringer ate more of her tail. Had it really already flattened out half of it? She only had a minute or so before it started to pinch down her butt. She eyed over the off switch. She could break it off. That might buy her some extra time. Or it might short the thing out and turn it back on again. If there was one thing the Spitfire fight had shown her, it was that OSHA was as useless as the Royal Guard.

        It was just too risky. She needed a surefire way to both turn the thing off and make sure to distract the unicorn. She scanned the switch, looking for something else that she might be able to use. Maybe a piece of metal to jam up the rollers or a magnet to mess up the motor. But all she saw was polished chrome and a dial to regulate the speed. She punched the wringer's case.

        “Don't get upset. It'll all be over soon enough. So tell me, do you want me to roll you up or fold you when I take you to the Vanguard?”

        “You can bite me. How 'bout that?” She was fairly confident Spell wasn't a vampony. Don't want a repeat of Night Terror—well, she did want a repeat of the end of that fight. In fact, the thought of using her fangs hadn't even crossed her mind up until now. It's not like the Night Guard or fighting league would be standing in her way now.

        The wringer started to work its way up the base of her tail. She looked around the wringer in panic She didn't want to use the off switch, but it looked like that was her only opt—an orange extension cord on the opposite side of the wringer caught her eye. The cord ran from behind one of the washers right up to the wringer. The electric wringer.

        Midnight bent herself around and yanked on the cord as hard as she could. The wringer's cord popped off from the extension cord and the wringer slowed to a stop. Midnight sighed in relief. Her tail had been fully pressed flat. A few seconds longer and she would have found out what it was like to have a truly flat butt.

        “I knew you'd try something like this,” Spell looked to the cords as her horn lit up and they floated into the air, “Congratulations. It bought you all of ten seconds,” they floated up and snapped back together. But the wringer remained off, “What!?” Maybe it was a short or something. Spell unplugged and plugged the cords in several times but there was still no hum of a motor and squeals of a rapidly flattening out bat pony.

        She looked back to Midnight, who had tugged about half of her flattened purple tail free of the rollers, “What did you do!” she growled, before walking up to the mare. She carefully looked over the cord for any damage or bare wires that could explain why it wasn't working. The wringer's base was jiggled several times to see if there was a short inside it.

        Midnight yanked again with her forehooves. Her tail was really flat and now resembled a purple piece of cardboard. She'd be lucky if she could pop it back out to its fluffy old self. She glanced over at the off switch she had flipped while Spell had been momentarily occupied with the cords. It was only a matter of time before the unicorn figured it out and she needed her tail free before then.

        “How? How could you have stopped it? Is there some weird bat pony electrical magic I don't know about?” Spell walked around the wringer and the tin tub that lay behind it. She stared over every screw and chrome fitting, trying to see a fault, “This just baffles m—you little rat-winged skank!” she flipped the off switch back on and the wringer came to life once more.

        Spell looked up and where Midnight should have been. There was no cacophony of groans and squeaks coming from the bat pony. No wafer thin purple and gray line slowly sliding out from between the rollers. No muffled pleas as the mare's head finally flattened out. Somehow, Midnight had escaped. Spell growled in frustration.

        Midnight tried one last time to shake her freed tail back into shape, but its flattened form remained firmly in place. She sighed before glancing at her leathery wings. Rat-winged? A bolt of magic to her left made her jump and look over at the angry scowl on Spell's face.

        “Screw it. You've wasted enough of my time with this. I'll just crush you int—agh!” Midnight jumped into the air and pounced on the mare before she even had a chance to light her horn. She couldn't give the mare that chance. The two stumbled back from the impact, right into the wringer. Spell flinched and tightly shut her eyes, expecting to soon join Star in flatness.

        She opened them and relaxed slightly when she didn't feel the pinching pressure. They had hit the wringer and it's metal legs, but the rollers were recessed into its chrome frame. She was never more glad for having a short orange mane than right then. That was way too close for comfort. She needed to get Midnight secured and she needed to do it now.

        Midnight resisted the urge to grunt in frustration. Of course she couldn't get lucky. When had she ever gotten lucky? She had pushed that unicorn right into—right into a wringer and yet here she was, perfectly fine. Spell looked at Midnight, grinning, “Nice try, but this isn't one of those fighting league routines.”

        Midnight grabbed onto Spell's cheek. Of course, she could always just force her in. She was a physically weak unicorn, after all. Spell's grin immediately faltered as Midnight started to push her head toward the still turning rollers. She tried to kick and punch at the bat pony, but Midnight's grip held firm. Spell's punches were quite feeble compared to Spitfire or Shadow's.

        The rumble of the rollers filled Spell's ears as her mane neared them. She struggled and thrashed wildly, trying to break free. She had to right now or it would be a paper thin future for her. Her horn lit up and cast the first frantic spell she could think of. A small explosion knocked Midnight clear of the wringer and unicorn.

        Midnight hacked and gently flapped her wings to clear away the smoke that had been produced. She looked at Spell as her silhouette came into view from beneath the smoke. Midnight smiled brightly. The explosion may have knocked her clear of the mare, but it had also knocked Spell right into the wringer's rollers.

        She relaxed her throbbing muscles and limped over to the slowly flattening unicorn. Much to her delight, Spell went in head-first. She really didn't know what she was going to do if the mare had gone in tail-first and could cast spells to her heart's content. Most of Spell's head had been squashed through the wringer. Only the tips of her orange mane were left.

        Her hooves were slumped down and her body made no effort to avert the same fate as her head. Either she'd been knocked out, or had resigned herself to becoming a cardboard thin unicorn. Spell's yellow shoulders quickly slipped their way into the wringer and her chest followed soon after. Midnight walked around to the other side to see the paper thin outcome.

        Spell's eyes dizzily rolled around while her tongue poked out of her mouth as her flat head gently landed in the metal bin. She groaned when her shoulders and chest folded neatly over her head. Midnight looked back to the wringer just as Spell's underbelly slipped out. Despite the heavy pressure from the rollers, the mare's belly button had retained some of it's form despite now being pressed flat.

        Midnight looked back down into the bin to see Spell's back folding down onto her squashed chest and head. It was almost like the yellow mare was folding herself up into the bin. Her flattened out butt wobbled its way down into the bin to join the rest of the mare. Midnight caught a glimpse of what appeared to be a crowbar cutie mark flattened onto either side of Spell's two dimensional form.

        Finally, the unicorn's hindlegs and orange tail were squashed down and flapped their way into the bin. The hooves had been squashed firmly together. They landed softly onto Spell's thin butt and she gently settled down into the bin as her own weight pressed her down slightly. A soft groan echoed from metal bin.

        Midnight flipped the wringer's off switch and cast one last glance into the bin and the flattened and folded up mare that was inside before she walked back over to the laundromat's lobby. She needed to get to the Vangaurd before any more bounty hunters showed up.

        A muffled, echoy cry filled the lobby, “H-Hello? Is anypony out there?! I-I thought I heard something!” Oh right. The stallion in the mailbox. Midnight looked down from Dry Linen's kicking rear hooves and to the still unconscious form of Docket Number. And the Justice of the High Court. She turned back around. Maybe there was a backdoor.

        “Docket? Is that you? Please get me out of this thing!” she stopped. Why hadn't somepony gotten him out already? This was Canterlot for Luna's sake. Sure it was a Sunday, but it was still the business district. There had to be somepony around. She peeked out the large paned glass window. The polished steps of the High Court Building sparkled in the afternoon sun. Oh yeah, this wasn't exactly in the heart of the business district.

        She grit her teeth. Fine. She'd help him, “Hang on.” She reached up and grabbed Linen's hooves.

        “Oh, thank you. For a minute there, I thought I'd be trapped in here all day.” Midnight yanked his hooves, causing him to yelp in pain, “Wait! Stop!”

        She let his legs settle back into the mailbox and looked at it. This was a really awkward position. The blue mailbox was up off the ground, in a doorway, and he was very firmly wedged in there. She could pull and pull but he wasn't going anywhere.

        “Just stay there,” she winced at her own statement. He wasn't really going anywhere, was he? “I'm going to go get some help.”

        “O-Okay.”

        She jumped over top of Linen's hooves and walked out onto the sidewalk. She squinted and held a hoof up to her eyes to block the bright sunlight. What was she expecting? Of course Princess Celestia would show off in her capital. She looked down both ends of the street. Several old government buildings lined the road next to the High Court Building, their stone and granite facades cracked and worn down from years of wear.

        One was even covered with this fantastic moss. She suspected it was Spanish moss, but mosses were kind of tricky. You had to be really close to—a gleam next to the building caused her to squint even more. A white pegasus stallion in gold armor trotted up the sidewalk. Just what she needed, some help.

        She jumped into the air to fly over. Wait? What was she about to do?! She fumbled back to the ground and tightly clamped her wings to her back. She did not nearly just go waltz right up to a Royal Guard. She slammed a hoof against her face. After all she'd just been through, she had nearly blown it all away.

        She turned around and looked to Canterlot Castle. It was starting to get late—four in the afternoon wasn't really that late, but for government employees ready to go home, it sure was—and if she wanted to get to the Vanguard, she needed to leave now. She started walking. Linen would be just fine. Somepony—maybe even that guard that was already walking in the direction—would find him and help.

        But what if they didn't? Her pace faltered. What if he was trapped there all night hoping for help from a pony that would never return? Guilt started to eat away at her insides like an aphid on a tomato leaf. She stopped and turned around. Why couldn't she be more morally bankrupt? Like any bankruptcy, it would have probably saved her a lot of bits in the long run.

        She walked over to the guard. Best not to strain her already exhausted wings any further. The road was dead but she still checked both directions before she crossed. It might be paranoia, but she was not about to be flattened by a renegade steamroller. She tried not to stare as she approached him. Didn't want to look too suspicious.

        The guilt may have left, but its skittish friend anxiety decided to take up residence in its place. She nervously checked the buildings for an escape route in case the guard discovered her—and why wouldn't he? How many bat ponies were there? She was a little surprised he hadn't charged at her already.

        The white pegasus noticed she was intently approaching him and trotted up. Either he'd find her out and she could spend the next six months as a decorative bat pony rug trying to suppress her morals, or he'd help her out The weather team must have really cranked up the temperature, because she was getting really hot.

        He looked at her cheerfully, “Good day, miss. Can I assist you with something?”

        Not exactly aggressively charging and trying to detain her, “Uh, yeah. There's this stallion over in the laundromat. I heard him crying for help and rushed over.” Lies by omission were the best kind.

        The guard's face changed to one of concern, “What happened?”

        “He's stuck in a mailbox.”

        “What?” She'd probably have the same expression if somepony came up to her saying that.

        “I know. I thought the same thing when I saw it. I tried to help him, but I couldn't get him out. He's stuck in there pretty good.”

        The guard flared his wings out and took off, “Thank you for reporting this.”

        Midnight smiled to herself as he flew toward the laundry, “Happy I could help. I just hope he'll be okay,” Once she saw he had landed at the brick storefront, she let out the breath she had been holding in. Thank goodness. She had been starting to believe everypony she bumped into was out to get her.

        She looked in the direction of Canterlot Castle and started toward it. With any luck, she'd be able to do the noble and just thing and turn herself in before they closed and stopped handing out rewards. She heard the guard tending to Linen as she walked by the laundry.

        “Stay calm, sir. A rescue team has been—Celestia's wrinkled hips! Is that the Chief Justice?!”

        Midnight panted. She was going to file a very lengthy complaint. She reached the next landing and stopped for a moment. Sweat gleamed off her forehead. She peaked her head over the railing and the winding staircase that went down eight stories. Her head tilted up and gazed on the two additional stories of stairs. A very, very lengthy complaint.

        Her hot and sticky wings peeled off her back and flapped gently to cool off. It was times like this she yearned for feathered wings. She resumed her slow trek up the metal staircase. The whole stairwell had that cold concrete feel of a place not meant to be frequented. The metal stairs. The empty concrete walls. The bare light bulbs. The massive red arrows that were painted onto the wall and pointed toward the ground floor.

        It was very much designed and decorated for emergencies. When there was a fire and the elevator was broke. Or when the elevator was just broke and you had to trek up ten flights of stairs to get your hundred thousand bits. She reached the final metal grating and opened the heavy door that led to the tenth floor of Spire Five. She snorted. It was neither a spire nor was it the fifth one Canterlot Castle had. Spire's don't have emergency exits and sprawling offices.

        She rushed over to the nearby drinking fountain. The delicious, refreshing feeling of lukewarm water with a coppery aftertaste filled her maw and just as quickly left it as she spit it out and let the drinking fountain run for a few seconds. It wasn't much better, but it would do. She could buy carriages full of Crystal Empire snowmelt with the bits she was about to make.

        Her thirst was partially quenched. Now if only she could do something about the pain. Her legs and really most of her body was killing her. Her hooves throbbed with each step. Her wings occasionally would twitch as a shooting pain jolted them. Her knees felt like cooked elbow noodles. And her neck had a kink in it. After everything she'd been through the last few days, several years in a dungeon—or as a squashed flat poster—would be like heaven.

        She looked over from the drinking fountain and at the office. She didn't really know what she had expected from the Office of the Vanguard. Maybe some rough and tough mercenaries or bounty hunters hanging out in a shady bar. Or a shadowy cloak and dagger type affair with… cloaks and daggers and maybe a few poorly lit conference tables Equestria's officials could meet around. It could have even been a full military organization with barracks and armored ponies marching around.

        She should have guessed as a government organization it would have a typical bureaucratic style. Dry whites and grays. Artificial lighting. Several rows of identical, uncomfortable waiting room chairs. Obviously fake potted ferns—nothing made her more perturbed than fake plants—at the end of the rows. They were a mockery of everything good and hallowed. Was there nothing sacred anymore? No levels that ponies wouldn't stoop? If they were so worried about watering than just get some mother-in-law's tongue for Luna's sake.

        She was interrupted from her internal ranting by the clerk who sat behind a wooden-framed window near the elevator with an “out of order” sign taped to it, “Hello, ma'am. How can Equestria's Vanguard be of service today?”

        “Oh. Hello,” Midnight apprehensively walked up to the window—they were the ones trying to capture her, after all, “I would like to, um, cash in a bounty.”

        The clerk furrowed her brow, “Oh?” she looked behind Midnight at the drab carpet and empty chairs, “I don't see anypony to turn in. Are they outside or currently being detained somewhere?”

        “No, no, no,” Midnight giggled nervously, “You see, I'm collecting my bounty. I'm Midnight Dream.”

        The clerk stared for a moment, before one of her hooves reached under her counter to press something, “You're... You're collecting your own bounty? Isn't that just turning yourself in? I don't think we're in the business of rewarding criminals,” She jumped slightly, as if remembering something, “Ah, alleged criminals.”

        So much for rewarding good deeds. Midnight adjusted her painful wings. Was it getting hot? There was a distinctly uncomfortable feeling that was starting to bubble up within her, “W-Well, yes, but I was informed that, given my—” she cleared her throat, “—unique situation, the Vanguard would be more than happy to honor its bounty provisions.”

        “Whoever told you that was mistaken. We only pay bounties to registered bounty hunters or those otherwise authorized by the Office of the Vanguard.”

        “O... Oh,” This was such a stupid idea. Why would she have ever thought it was a good idea? Literally walking right into the waiting hooves of the government. She might as well go to Ponyville and parade around Princess Twilight's oddly designed castle—a home made out of a living plant was so much better. Maybe she could still salvage this, “In that case, I-I'm sorry I wasted your time. Won't happen again.”

        She turned around and quickly made her way toward the stairway door. It wasn't her fault a hundred thousand bits was too good to pass up. Anypony would try to get that kind of cash if they could. Once she was down the stairs and out of the building, she'd make a beeline out of Canterlot before the—just as she was approaching the door, three Royal Guardponies walked in from it blocked the doorway, and stared at her.

        How did they even get in? She didn't see anypony in the stairwell when she walked in. She heard the receptionist from the other side of the room, “Oh no, Miss Dream. Please stay. The Office of the Vanguard is always happy to assist in capturing wanted ponies.”

        Okay, so this had gone horribly wrong. It wasn't too bad though. She'd taken out nearly half a dozen Night Guards. Say nothing of the airship. All she needed to do was find a rolling pin or something and—the flash of a teleport spell revealed six more Royal Guardponies, five pegasi who were now pointing their spears at her and the cursed unicorn that had brought them here, who was now looking like she was going to cast a—uh oh.

        Midnight tried to roll out of the way of the spell, but she'd been through so much. The airships. The bounty hunters. She just couldn't keep it up. The spell clipped her flank and she fell to the ground with a wince, her butt tingling oddly. What had it done? Was it compressing her into a cube? Forcibly flattening out her butt? A comically oversized magical ball and chain clanged to the ground, secured to one of her rear ankles.

        It wasn't a rolling pin, but it would do. Midnight tried to whip herself around and use the centrifugal force to knock over a couple of the guards. She jerked to a stop. The ball remained firmly planted on the floor. She tried pulling and yanking at it but it refused to budge. It was really heavy. If she had a week of rest, maybe she could whip it around. But after days of fighting, flying, and climbing stairs? There was no chance. Her hind legs had resigned in protest and wouldn't be moving anything. Midnight looked in desperation at the unicorn, who now wore that smug, arrogant smile unicorns got when they thought their magic was so much better than everypony else's.

        Seeing their fugitive firmly secured and exhausted, several of the guards moved in to place restraints around her ankles and wings, “Midnight Dream, you are under arrest by order of Her Majesty, Princess Twilight Sparkle. You may remain silent, and if you do not remain silent, what you say may be used against you.”

        She gulped nervously and looked at the receptionist, “I—I'd like to file a complaint. Your help line provides very inaccurate information... and you need to get your elevator fixed.”