//------------------------------//
// Episode 11: Heart of Winter 
// Story: Harpflank and Sweets: The Lost Episodes 
// by Supersheep64 
//------------------------------//


HARPFLANK AND SWEETS




Created by Arcainum
Written by Supersheep64



Opening Titles





Metropony City! Mighty skyscrapers towering over the millions of ponies going about their lives on the streets below! Working, playing or just taking in the weather, Metropony bustles as only the big city can. But! All is not well in this equine metropolis! Below the streets lies a threat - a threat to the happiness and friendship of good ponies everywhere! And the name of that threat is Luna, the exiled Princess who has returned with vengeance in her eyes! With the aid of her villainous helper Trixie and her army of terrible Lunatrons, She will stop at nothing to destroy the pony way of life! Standing against her, however, are two heroic mares, known only to the citizens of Metropony as...



HARPFLANK AND SWEETS: EPISODE 11- HEART OF WINTER







Scene 1




There was a blizzard over Metropony. Like many blizzards, it was cold. Like many blizzards, it was blustery. Unlike many blizzards, it wasn’t stopping.

Day after day, never once relenting all week. Colder and colder, frostier and frostier. Never before had so much snow fallen in such a short span. Ponies abandoned their jobs, burying themselves in their beds and citing illnesses both real and fictitious as excuses for their absence. Water pipes froze, antenna fell from roofs and all stores citywide instantly sold out of hot cocoa. 

Things got so bad that the mayor was forced to dust off the Winter Wrap Up protocols months in advance. Though, with the snow showing no signs of stopping, it seemed like the only wrapping up being done was on the ponies themselves, forced to clothe up for even the shortest of trips. It was clearly an omen of dark times that, for the first time in Equestrian history, public nudity was at an absolute zero.

Against this backdrop, two ponies braved the howling winds, dragging a sack behind them as they trudged through the snow-ridden pavements of the Metropony suburbs. On the road next to them, a snowplow roared past and unheedingly sprayed them with a fresh deluge of the wintery powder. 

Save for their winter clothes, the ponies were camouflaged perfectly against the snow, their pure white coats and pale pink manes doing little to signify their presence in the howling gale. Shaking off the grasp of the snow wave, the taller, a unicorn, lit up her horn to melt away a path. The pink glow warming their bodies, she and the smaller mare trudged on as her earthen companion heaved the heavy load through the wake of her spell.

Several minutes later, the shivering ladies caught sight of their destination, a poorly-repaired mansion on the fringes of the city. They walked through the missing gate, hauling the sack up the front stairs and through the ornate entranceway. Setting the cargo down, the two ponies braced themselves against the double doors, shoving them closed against the ruthless force of the biting wind. 

Shedding their scarves and hats, they paused to catch their breath with a relieved sigh. The unicorn, rising to her full height, was almost double the size of her companion. Her long graceful legs, slender body and dainty lengthened muzzle hinted at a trace of foreign ancestry... Perhaps even with the exotic ponies of the Saddle Arabias. Even weathered by the gale, she was stunningly beautiful, her mane falling in soft waves and her big, doe-like eyes filled with warmth.

Her name was Fleur, and she had once been a fashion model. Now, she no longer stood in the spotlight... And she glowed all the brighter because of it.

Levitating the heavy sack from the grip of her friend, she paused to speak.

"Thank you, Red. I... I really don't know how we... How I could keep going without you. You don't have to do this..."

Redheart gave a small, sad smile, removing her hoof-boots before gently and firmly pressing her hoof directly over Fleur's heart. Although she said nothing, the message was clear enough.

"Neither do you."

The laboured sound of heavy coughing drew the mares from their moment. Breaking off their touchy-feely contact, they walked out of the entrance foyer and into the main hall of the mansion.

The hall was truly cavernous, covering three full stories of the house and subsequently bridging them all with a massive winding staircase that encapsulated the room. Dotted around in lines, massive marble pillars held up the painted ceiling, and along the walls were a multitude of alcoves and nooks where garish ornaments and great works of art could be hung.

However, those places were empty now and the hordes of possessions that could loosely have been described as 'art' had all been sold. There was no remorse over their loss. There simply came a day where their owners had needed to re-assess their priorities. Instead, the hall was filled with something even more precious.

Huddled around fires and wrapped up in whatever they could find was dozens and dozens of ponies. Mules, donkeys and even the occasional griffon joined them, huddling together without regard in any sort of communal circle they could latch on to.

Fleur walked through the crowd, looking with concern on those she had taken into her care. Some coughed and spluttered, some mumbled to themselves, and others hardly moved at all.

The house itself had belonged to her husband, passed down from his grandfather, along with a history and a list of names so long that even the family's odious titles paled in comparison. Now however, the mansion bore only one name that mattered. 

Sanctuary.

In the corner of the hall, a battered radio mumbled out news though bursts of static. A scant few ponies stole glances at its cracked dials as they huddled around the fire, but many of them were so lost in thought that they never even noticed the sound.

'-Criticism continues to fall on Mayor Mare over her perceived inaction to combat the still intensifying blizzard bearing down on Metropony City. This winter, the coldest since records began, has forced Princess Celestia to issue a nation-wide no-fly policy rather than to risk altitude fliers freezing up on normally routine journeys. This, and the subsequent grounding of Cloudsdale has disrupted all Weather patrols and allowed unscheduled storms free reign over Equestrian airspace.'

As the radio fizzled out again, Fleur reached the far side of the room and hefted the well-earned sack onto a small wooden table in what she had roughly converted into a working kitchen. Tying her mane back into a tail, she pulled out fresh-ish vegetables from her hoard and began chopping them into a soup over a magic-powered stove.

The smell of cooking roused some of her residents, who shuffled away from their rest to queue up for a taste of the warming stew. Fleur had to stifle a frown though, when she saw how many stayed where they were, shivering in the firelight despite all of the appetising stimulus wafting through the air.

With the ever decreasing temperatures, sickness was spreading with all the promiscuity and charm of a lewd joke. Even with all she had to give, Fleur was far from certain how many of these needy faces would still be there to greet her when she awoke tomorrow.

Shedding her heavy coat, Redheart hurried into the throng, reaching into a small pouch for medicines and equipment as she sought out patients in the crowd. Arriving by the side of a coughing child, Redheart gently spoon fed him a dose of liquid from her mysterious stash. In moments, the young one seemed to relax and smiled as he drifted off to sleep.

Although Redheart claimed that she simply 'borrowed' the supplies from her work, Fleur had never seen or heard of any hospital that boasted such advanced medicine as that which Redheart practiced. Despite enquiring about her job many times, Fleur had never received any answer about the source of the medical miracles, leaving her only to be thankful that they did exist.

The static on the radio died down again, letting everypony once more distract themselves with the two-day-old news being played out yet again by the desperate networks. You could hardly blame them for their stagnation, in this weather nopony was being stupid enough to go outside and actually do anything newsworthy.

'In an interview earlier today, the Mayor claimed that all her efforts were focused on keeping the roads clear. Her priority is to make sure that ponies will not become trapped in their homes, and that much-needed supplies can still be transported to and from the city. In related news, billionaire entrepreneur Filthy Rich is hosting a charity fundraiser in city hall tomorrow night. The money raised is going to be used to construct shelters to deal with the rising numbers of homeless caused by the ongoing struggle against the Lunar Empire...'

“-Careful, you clumsy girl!"

Fleur blinked, zoning back in on her soup-serving. She flinched, yanking back the ladle that was spilling boiling soup over the hooves of the enraged donkey waiting in line. Dropping it back into the pot, she floated over some paper towels to wipe the searing stains from his coat.

“Oh my goodness! I’m so sorry, I just... The radio and-”

“Never mind! Just... Back off and give me the soup so I can get on with my meal!”

Fleur wilted. The star of the catwalk, a paragon of grace and poise... And yet the mere mention of that name could distract her like this. She composed herself, performing the simple in-out breathing exercise taught to her by an old friend before returning to her food-distributing duty.

As she poured him another bowl of broth, her eyes flicked over to the eternally-drooped face of the donkey nursing his wounded hooves. As if sensing her attention, Cranky flashed her a snarl as he hid his burns under layers and layers of heavy mismatched coats.

“Hurry up, you’re holding up the entire queue with your dithering! Some of us have places to be, other than enjoying your so called ‘hospitality’!”

Cranky, although one of the older tenants at the Sanctuary, was in surprisingly good health, perhaps thanks to his notoriously thick skin that refused any illness or compassion passage through his body. Aside from the wrinkles of age, his only physical ailment was his baldness, which he currently covered with a thick woolen cap and denied with unwavering passion. Though he refused to talk about his past, it was not hard to see that the stress which caused his loss of hair was caused by the loss of something far more precious to him.

Fleur slid him over his bowl and he turned to leave with a resounding ‘humph’. However, Fleur snagged his foreleg, forcing his attention before he could storm off.

“You haven’t found her yet?”

Cranky’s eyes widened in shock, a faint crack in his demeanor letting out the barest glimmer of pain before the doors slammed shut once more.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

Fleur searched his face before levitating over a warmed hot water bottle from near the recently relocated sink and sliding it inside the layers of his coats.

“If you’re going back out there, you’ll need this.”

He scrunched his face up almost anticipation of tears that would never come, the wrinkles of his face deepening until age and weariness had consumed all trace of his anger and sorrow.

“... Thank you for the soup, miss.”

He shambled off into the crowd, one untold story among hundreds. Sighing, Fleur returned to her task, slowly working through the ranks of huddled strays and castaways as the night drew on and on and on. Eventually, she ran out of soup before she ran out of mouths, forcing her to drag out dry biscuits from the pantry and hoof them around to the greatly disappointed clients still waiting for their share.

Eventually, things began to settle down as her tenants tucked in for the night, heaping their bowls by the side of the room as they curled around their fires in a vain hope to find rest in the howling storm. Fleur cleaned up the waste, wiping down the serving table with a dishcloth as her horn lifted and scrubbed dozens of bowls at a time before stacking them neatly in the cupboards she had moved from the mansion’s original kitchen when the deterioration of the building had made the room unusable.

Looking out over the sleeping horde, she felt a sense of contentment in her work. Despite all the hardships, for this one, single moment, her world seemed to be at peace. 

The front doors slammed open, releasing a torrent of windy ice and icy wind that coated the floor and blew in a tornado of snow-dampened street trash every which way. Any residents not comatose from exhaustion flinched at the sound, waking from their dreamless sleep to blearily gaze into the biting wind with one unanimous sentiment. 

‘Oh come on! What is it now?’

Sauntering in through the gale, an earth pony, filled with unhealthy confidence, flauntingly stripped off his winter jacket and dismissively dropped it in one of the fires as he forced his way through the sleepy crowd. Similarly, but less expensively dressed bodyguards flanked his passage, using their massive bulk to push back the panicked refugees and clear a path through the sea of bodies. 

Although she was preoccupied, Fleur thought she heard a whimper from the residents as they longingly stared at the wads of cash falling from the pockets of the burning coat.

His hair was rich with oil, slicked back like coat of an otter. His eyes were rich with greed, glinting in the firelight. His smile was rich with smug self-satisfaction and his breath rich with the scent of tobacco... Rich was his name, and it defined everything about him.

He was concieted, corrupt and repugnant, and it showed. Just one glance at the way he moved, he dressed, he sounded, he smelt, he tasted... Every sense overwhelmed with disgust the very instant he entered your vicinity. Filthy Rich knew this and he reveled in it. To him, the type of impression he made was unimportant, just so long as it was an impression that lasted.

He met Fleur's eye from across the room as he slid towards her. Smiling wider, Fleur became the full focus of his attention as he tuned out the incessant yapping of the small pink dog trotting obediently at his hocks. 

She wasn’t actually a dog, but Fleur thought of her as such, because to call Rich's daughter by her full, four-letter title would be a breach of Fleur's refined nature.

"Daddy... You said you'd take me to the dress store! Why are we visiting here again? The ponies are all sick and gross-looking!"

Not taking his eyes off of Fleur, Filthy Rich patted his daughter on the head.

"Now now, Diamond, you know not to interrupt Daddy when he's doing business. And besides, all the stores are closed due to the weather, remember?"

Diamond Tiara glared at her father, unwilling to forgive any contact that almost jostled her eponymous jewelry from her head. The pair of them and their muscle bound entourage had finally made their way up to her serving counter, prompting Fleur to put on her best polite facade. 

Feeling a nudge in her side, Fleur glanced to her right and saw that Redheart had somehow sneaked under everypony’s notice to mysteriously appear besides her. Shooting Fleur a questioning glance, she reached a concealed hoof under the counter to rest on the shotgun she kept in case of 'emergencies'.

Frowning ever so slightly, Fleur gently shook her head before turning back to the business stallion and his whining brat. As long as she was here, there was no need to resort to incivilities. She had lived thirteen of her adult years as an aristocrat, and if there was one thing that that experience had taught her, it was that there was nopony in all of Equestria who was vile enough to make her lose her composure.

Looking back to her unwelcome guests, she found that against all laws of common decency, it seemed that nopony had forced Diamond to shut up yet.

"Then why can't you just make them open?! These trips are pointless! It's the fourth time we've been here this week, and she always says no!"

Setting her opulent headwear back in perfect position, she turned her glower onto Fleur, pouting out her cheeks as she let her frustration boil.

"If you wanted her to be the new mommy, you should have just paid her off by now..."

Fleur's hooves scraped against the countertop, mentally amending her earlier assertion. In light of new discoveries, perhaps it was more accurate to say there was almost nopony vile enough to break her composure.

Rich gave a forced laugh before turning to his bodyguards.

"Boys, why don't you take my little pumpkin back to the car. It's getting late, and she's starting to say the craziest things."

Filthy turned back to his suffering host as two of his staff led the pampered princess back down the way the way they came. Sneering at every creature she passed, the little snot turned back once to stick her tongue out at Fleur before she was hustled out into the snow. Waiting until nopony was looking, Redheart glared the filly right back and returned the infantile gesture in kind.

With that distraction out of the way, Filthy rubbed his hooves together and began to talk business.

"So, is your husband still unable to join us tonight?"

He knew full well the answer, but it still got under Fleur's skin that he brought it up.

"Yes, he is still quite unwell, and unfit to entertain guests."

The sleazebag frowned at the news, faking deep sorrow. Coincidentally, if you had said that Filthy had made his fortune on bottling and selling insincere sentiments, there wouldn’t be a soul in Equestria that would question the validity of your assertion.

Reaching into his waistcoat, he pulled out two slips of paper and slid them across the counter insistently. 

"That's a tragic shame, you know that he was once quite a successful partner of mine. I was hoping that the pair of you could make it to my charity event tomorrow."

Fleur took a calming breath, reluctantly grasping the tickets and cramming them under the counter, feeling that refusing the slips would only needlessly prolong the conversation.

"Yes... It's such a shame you bought out all the controlling shares in his company. If you had left him even a single resource then maybe you would still have the pleasure of doing business with him to this day."

Filthy chuckled, redundantly smoothing back his oiled-up mane.

"But I did leave him something. This entire estate was never a part of company property, so you had all this space to move in all your little... Friends here."

He rested his foreleg on the desk, leaning forward in a very poor attempt to be suave.

"... Which brings us back to our proposal. I'm franchising the business of homeless care here in Metropony, and I can't have you hogging up all my clientele. In this storm, the homeless are becoming a rapidly dwindling resource, after all."

Fleur screwed closed her eyelids, refusing to let her temper turn to tears in front of this monster. Instead, she pounded the desk, forcing him off his shoddy chat-up pose as she abandoned her fragile veneer of civility.

“You already own every other shelter in the city. Is your obsession with monopolising so great that you can’t even let us do the least bit of good in your absence? Or have you just not taken enough from my husband already?”

Filthy smiled wider, widening his forelegs in a gesture of sincerity.

“I just have other interests specific to the location of the property, is all. I don’t see why you’re so adamant about this, I already have dozens of new homes for these ponies to stay in.”

Fleur tore into him with her glare.

“All for appearances no doubt. You don’t actually care about any of them. How much have you actually put into these new 'shelters' of yours?"

Filthy pretended to be hurt by her words.

“Such baseless accusations! I expected better from you, Fleur. Charity is charity, after all."

Something that could almost pass for real concern crossed over his features as he leaned in to whisper so only she could hear.

"There’s no point martyring yourself for cause that isn’t in danger. Sign over the property, and I’ll even give you a nice place to sleep..."

“Get out.”

She rose to her full height, towering over the greasy stallion as she tore the apron from her neck and threw it to the ground. Settling into an aggressive stance, she made sure that he understood that this was an ultimatum.

"My husband owns this property. It has been ours since before your empire, and we are not giving it to you under any circumstance, do you understand?"

Filthy took a step back, tapping his hooves together in thought.

"Change is a part of life, my dear. You can't cling on to the diseased and dying."

His eyes flicked out over the homeless glaring at him through weary eyes.

"Entropy claims us all in time. Much better to wipe clean the slate and embrace new lives, new possibilities, new ownership of the world."

Feeling the comforting hoof of Redheart by her side, Fleur shook her head.

"It's not your world to take. Not so long as we still live in it."

Fleur stared him right in the eyes, as if daring him to say otherwise. Knowing when he's beaten, Filthy called his remaining bodyguards and appropriated one of their winter coats before turning and striding to the door.

"Interesting choice of words... You seem to have less squatters than the last time I was here. Maybe by this time next week, this 'world' of yours will have no one left to lay claim to it."

With his now-shivering henchpony in tow, Filthy threw open the doors again and disappeared into the howling gale.

Upon the departure of their visitor, the entry hall descended into a continuous rumble of concerned muttering. Letting her posture slip, Fleur held a hoof to her head and sighed. 

That stallion had been contemptible enough when he was simply one of Fancy’s shareholders, but recently it seemed he was nothing short of a shark sniffing for their blood in the water. It was hard enough keep their sanctuary open before this storm hit, but if it kept up much longer... 

Fleur’s face darkened. If nothing else, the increased frequency of Filthy’s visits was a sure enough sign that he could sense that they were at the end of their rope.

Feeling Redheart’s hoof once again on her shoulder, she saw that the smaller mare had slid over a tray with one last remaining bowl of soup...Though where Redheart had been hiding it was beyond her. With a small smile, the enigmatic nurse reassured her friend that she would hold down the fort, if only until the morning. 

So, as Redheart set out to calm down their murmuring residents, Fleur levitated the tray and departed up the grand staircase.  Pulling out her hair tie and letting her mane hang free, she let her weary hooves carry her through the winding paths of this ancestral home. Although she felt about ready to collapse then and there, she kept her eyes open, knowing that there was still one pony left to care for before she turned in to rest.




Scene 2




Outside the gates of the mansion, Filthy Rich and his remaining bodyguards made haste to the limousine parked in four parking spaces across the street. Although very large and impressive, the limo could hardly be seen as it was hidden behind a dense cloud of water vapor that steamed off the ground and surrounding air for a good, solid meter in all directions. 

Designed to cut through the deepening snow, this limo was equipped with an incredibly expensive magical heater that, to the world at large, was still considered theoretical. Due to impracticality and lack of demand, there were only three of these devices in known existence. 

Filthy Rich owned five.

Pulling off the coat yet again, Filthy passed it off to the trembling bodyguard as the stallion held the car door open for him. Sliding into the roomy interior of the vehicle, Filthy immediately fixed his gaze on his beloved daughter sitting across from him. His loving gaze soured a little as he noticed that his darling Tiara was eagerly messing with the settings on a rather large death ray.

“Daddy look! Auntie Trixie gave me this new toy! Can I go vaporize some blank-flanks? Can I?”

“...Perhaps later, darling.”

“Oh, don’t be so hard on the little tyke, Rich. She’s going to grow up to be a malicious little conqueror one day, just like Trixie.”

Putting his business face back on, Rich turned his attention to the intruder seated comfortably on the seat next to Diamond Tiara. Drinking casually from Rich’s personal wine bar and letting her gaudy cape drape over her lounging frame was his longstanding ‘business’ partner.

Smirking devilishly, Trixie set her hat on the seat next to her and flicked back her silver mane with narcissistic pride. Looking over Rich’s shoulder for a second, she motioned to the driver to start the engine. Even though she didn’t pay his wages, the driver knew who his real boss was. With no hesitation, he immediately pulled out of the parking spaces and began slicing a path through the fallen snow. Setting down her glass, Trixie struck up an a pointed conversation.

“Your darling daughter tells Trixie that your acquisition plans aren’t following through as you intended. Surely the richest stallion in Equestria can’t be denied this easily?”

“She’s slowly losing everything she cares about. She’ll break sooner or later, and then we’ll have what we need.”

Trixie humphed.

“We don’t have that long, Rich. Trixie’s forces are concealing their movements as best as they can, but if we wait any longer then we may not be able to finish our plans before the less moronic members of M.A.R.E catch wind of Trixie’s brilliant scheme. Trixie will not suffer another defeat that comes thanks to your uselessness!”

Rich raised a bushy, oily eyebrow at the insult.

“If we want to talk about uselessness, how about we talk about those huge, lumbering punching bags that you use all of my money to build. When was the last time one of those lasted longer than a couple of minutes, hmm?”

Trixie just snickered.

“If you are dissatisfied with the product, the Lunar Empire can always find another financial backer willing to pay for Trixie’s genius... One of your competitors, perhaps?”

Rich flinched slightly. Raising a hoof to his chin, he considered his options before breaking out in an evil smile.

“Alright, I’ll accelerate my negotiations. With a little assistance, we’ll own the property by tomorrow.”

Floating him a glass of wine, Trixie raised her own as she matched his grin.

“Trixie is listening...”




Scene 3




On a bleak Metropony rooftop, Lyra shivered. 

Not limiting herself to just one involuntary reaction, she also shuddered.

Thinking back to the weeks leading into winter, Vinyl and Tavi had been mercifully quick to provide her and Bon-Bon with special snowsuits to protect against the cold. The blue fur-lined hood was pulled up firm over her head, and the matching boots were clutched firmly to her sides in a futile gesture of resilience. A set of high-tech snow goggles were clamped over the top of her mask to protect her eyes from the stinging snowflakes, and the remaining fabric was a complex nanoweave designed to insulate against even the most severe of sub-zero conditions.

It didn’t matter.

Lyra determinedly continued her patrol, battered by the bitter winds. Snot dripping from her snout, Lyra grudgingly admitted that this storm had surpassed the abilities of science to protect her. Against this kind of assault, there wasn’t a force on earth that could convince her body heat to stay inside her skin, where it belonged.

Shaking life back into her senseless hooves, Lyra hastily answered the bleeping call of her communicator. She took care not to drop it into the ever-rising snowbank, her limbs barely keeping hold as Derpy’s hologram winked into existence in front of her.

“Lyra, you haven’t reported in for hours! What’s your status?”

Opening her mouth, Lyra added ‘chattering’ to the list of involuntary reactions she was performing.

“F-Frozen, C-Com-mander.”

Derpy rolled her eyes. On her, this was an oddly hypnotic experience.

“I meant regarding the mission, Lyra.”

Lyra twisted the communicator round to face the street below, showing Derpy’s hologram an endless stream of trucks bringing much needed supplies to the snow-clogged city. As she turned the avatar back round to face her, Lyra chattered out her frustrations.

“Noth-ing. Nothing B-But snow, sn-now, and more f-f-freakin snow! I’ve bee-een stuck out h-here for hours a-and nothing ha-hap-happ-hatchoo!”

The holo-Derpy frowned at the build up of snot on the lens of the communicator, twitching her wings in irritation. 

“Come on now, Lyra, it’s just a little bit of cold. I thought you were tougher than this!”

“E-Easy for you t-to say. You peg-as-asi are practical-al-ally built for crazy w-weather...”

She sneezed again, not-so-microscopic globules phasing through the head of the rather disgusted holographic pony hovering before her. Derpy raised a hoof to her chin in confusion.

“It’s strange, the tip we got was certain that Luna would try to raid that convoy. Without it, the city would be helpless against her demands...”

Lyra blinked the water from her eyes, hastily wiping away the goo dangling from her nostrils. 

“L-Luna’s f-forces a-are probab-ab-ably as snowbound as everyp-p-pony else. I-If she was gonna a-att-ack she would have d-done it by now.”

Derpy conceded the point with a nod of the head.

“Fair enough. You and Bon-Bon can return to base, I need to talk with you about something.”

Derpy blinked, quickly glancing around the communicator’s field of view in confusion.

“Where is Bon-Bon anyway?”

Lyra rubbed her own shoulders, futilely striving to restore warmth to her precious organs as she shivered harder.

“S-She took shelter In a c-c-coffee shop t-two hours ago.”

Derpy gritted her teeth, displeasure evident in every pixel of her simulated being.

“Well, at least one of you held your post in the line of duty...”

“A-Actually, I lost the c-coin toss.”

“...”

“D-Don’t look at m-me like tha-ah-achoo!”

Derpy sighed.

“Just get back to HQ before you void the warranty on this thing with your goop, would you?”

Lyra gave a very jittery salute.

“O-On my way.”

She switched off the communicator, slipping it back into her saddlebags. Lyra shook off the snow gathering on her withers, swiftly rushing to the edge of the rooftop before leaping off to meet up with her friend.

As Lyra disappeared from sight, the mounting snow reclaimed the empty rooftop. The wind violently whipped around the tall spire, swirling the endless flakes into vague shifting shapes that deceive the eye. For the briefest of moments, the snow took the form of three majestic stallions, galloping through the storm. 

The baleful illusion lingered for just long enough that their glowing eyes could be assumed to be following Lyra's trail before the fickle winds dispersed the deceptive image and spread the drifting snow out to every corner of the city.




Scene 4




Fleur trotted through the halls of Sanctuary, her hoofsteps endlessly echoing in the vast empty space. 

The old house was on its last legs, having most of its rooms and facilities either buried under collapsing floors, or under risk of themselves collapsing at the slightest provocation. Only a few safe places remained, one being the majestic and sturdy entrance hall, and the other being the scant few bedrooms built to house the master of the house and his closest family. 

All the other sleeping quarters had fallen away, consumed along with the ballroom into the unfathomable sinkhole that had finally outlasted the family’s stubborn refusal to pick up and move stakes to a more habitable patch of land. 

Fleur cast the ballroom a thoughtful glance as she passed it, trotting along the upper balcony as she fearfully stared into the yawning abyss that could give even the pits of Tartarus a run for their money.

Finally reaching the master bedroom, Fleur turned and slowly reversed into the door, pushing it open with her rear as she brought the tray carefully through the doorway. Turning into the room proper, she couldn’t, and didn’t want to, hide a smile at the worn but handsome face of her darling Fancy Pants.
And the happiness he showed her was no less rewarding.

“My darling Fleur. It might be the fever talking, but I dare say you look more and more beautiful every time I see you.”

“You’re right, dear. It is the fever talking.”

Even though he was terribly sick, Fleur couldn’t resist leaning over to plant a tender kiss at the base of his horn.

It was a great blow to their continuing struggles that Fancy had been bedridden all week, having caught some crippling strain of flu almost immediately after the storm started. Of course Redheart had been only too eager to try and diagnose him a cure, but to the hushed healer’s extreme displeasure, even her uncanny knowledge was unable to prescribe anything for his mystery disease.

With no easy cure to work with, Fleur had had to work double for both of them, just to keep the Sanctuary open. It was no fun for him either for, as Fancy would put it, being patient zero of a new outbreak was a ‘rather unfortunate’ situation to be in.

Laying the soup at his bedside, Fleur was only mildly surprised to find Fancy nose deep in one of her old books, a small collection from her youth that was one of the few things they had not disposed of when they converted the mansion. The book's title had long since faded, and the words held no particular significance, but every page contained pressed flowers, perfectly preserved from the days she had first picked them.

"Fancy, what are you doing nosing through those old things? I've brought you many novels whose pages are not so needlessly floral."

Fancy widened his smile, discarding his monocle to the bedside as he beamed over to his wife.

"I'm just fascinated by your ability, my dear. You have such incredible talent."

Fleur blushed.

"It doesn't take much skill to press a flower."

"Not the act, the eye! You have the most uncanny way of seeing something truly special, and keeping it alive for everypony to appreciate."

Folding shut the book, she levitated it over to its stack before magically forcing the soup bowl into her husband's lap.

"Those flowers are not alive, dear."

Fancy looked at her, almost foolishly entranced.

"...But those ponies are."

Fleur had nothing to say to that. Humbled by his praise, she just sat and smiled as Fancy lifted a spoon and tucked into his meal.

Always a bit of a bleeding heart, her husband had become even more of a softie since his illness, shedding concern and compassion like a Persian in moult. Even simple things like these old memories now seemed to elate him, though Fleur would be lying if she said the devotion did not move her to live up to the love she could feel in him each day.

He slurped the soup, getting large quantities of it strained into his moustache. Normally he would use a spoon rather than shed his dignity, but his magic was drained from germ-fighting exhaustion and he would have been mortified beyond words to have anypony, even his wife, spoon-feed him his meals like an infant. He wiped his mouth with a tissue, which he added to a rapidly deepening pile of them before pushing the tray to the side with a contented moan.

“Absolutely delicious, Fleur! Why, you may well be an even better cook than I thought without me there to mess up your recipe.”

She tossed her mane distractedly. Ever since that stallion had taken almost everything they had, she had had little choice but to become a good cook. Although some of their servants had been kind enough to offer her pointers before they had left seeking new employment, Fleur had had to find her own niche among the world of spice and sauces and continued to evolve and experiment to this day.

Fleur frowned, as thinking about the past had only reminded her of the visit from their extremely unwelcome guest. Her tone of voice dropped into a whisper, an unnaturally depressed tone that had been trained into her from repeated conditioning at being the bearer of only bad news.

"He came around here again, Fancy."

Fancy’s expression darkened as well, the stallion in question one of the few things that he could still bring himself to dislike.

"Ah, him. Is he still hosting that abominable charity thing?"

Fleur let out a tough chuckle at the blunt honesty. It was always refreshing to hear him talk like this after so many years of living in ‘high society’, where you are not allowed to be quite so forward with your real opinions.

"He actually sent us tickets, if you can believe that. With you like this, and me barely even touched by the tabloids, he thinks we still have a place in his publicity nightmare?"

Fancy Pants coughed into a hoof, his cultured mustache flouncing with the motion, much like a happy seal clapping its fins together. Sadly, Fancy Pants was not feeling like a particularly happy seal at the moment. Following his coughing fit, Fancy lapsed into silence with a more serious and concerned expression on his face.

“Maybe you should go, dear.”

Squinting out of one eye, Fleur pressed the back of her hoof into his forehead.

“I think your fever might be worsening, Fancy. Maybe it’s time you got some sleep.”

“No, I’m serious, Fleur! You’ve been cooped up with me for far too long. You are a social creature, my love... And you have been running yourself ragged for far too long. Don’t you remember the days when you were the most influential wingless mare in Equestria?”

She huffed, giving her husband a withering look.

“I think you might be exaggerating.”

He smiled like the old fool he was, before pulling her in for a nuzzle.

“We both know that if you put your mind to it, you could have broken any relationship, ruined any career, passed any law... Or at least you could whenever you and Cadenza weren't constantly one-upping each other in your competition to be the ‘prettiest mare in the room’.

She pushed the snotty stallion away with a playful smirk.

“I think you mean ‘prettiest mare in Equestria’, Fancy.”

“Hmm, perhaps at a stretch.”

She lightly bashed him with a pillow, before returning to a state of general downward-dumpness.

“I almost wish I could... If only for the chance to undermine Filthy Rich at his own game. But I’m needed here. We can’t afford to hire any help, and even without her mystery job taking her away, Redheart can’t possibly take care of you and all the other sick ponies at once.”

Fancy gave a shuddering, phlegm-flecked sigh at his wife's depressive shift.

"I'm sorry, Fleur, but sometimes you need to learn to let go of the responsibilities you have burdened yourself with. What you are doing is admirable, it really is. But if you keep trying to keep so many others alive, you will never find the time to actually live your own life.”

He brushed her mane from her face with a caressing hoof.

“You are the most amazing mare in the world, but even you cannot save everypony in need of help."

She shook her head.

"No. I'll find a way... I have to."

Planting a final kiss on Fancy's cheek, she left him to the remainder of his meal and trotted from the bedroom.

Wearied from her trek and the varied chores of the day, she went straight to the guest bedroom across the hall and, stopping only to towel off the snow-left moisture from her mane, fell into the bed and was instantly out like a light.

Her exhaustion carried her dreamlessly through the draughty night and into the early hours of the morning. Snuggled warmly in her blankets, she awoke at the intrusion of cold hooves into her bed, wrapping around her in a strong, clutching embrace.

Shivering at the touch, Fleur mumbled out a reprimand of drowsy frustration.

"... Mmmh? Fancy, dear... You know you shouldn't be sneaking into my bed in your condition."

Ignoring her, the legs only seemed to tighten around her barrel, chilling her to the bone. As Fleur's senses came into focus, the howling of the winds outside seemed louder than expected, accompanying a strong draft that rustled the sheets and brought displeased wrinkles to her flawless face. 

"Fancy, what did you do to get so cold? Did you open the window? You know you're not supposed to-"

She rolled over in the grip as it lifted her from the bed, bringing her face-to-face with the dark, robotic eyes of a Lunatron.

The drone's simple AI, recognising that its target was awake, pre-empted her scream and remedied the situation with a hoof across the face. Fleur slumped back onto the bed, her mane falling in a mess about her as she slipped into slumber for a second time. 

The Lunatron's mechanical eyes refocused on the target, registering a change in heart rate indicative of unconsciousness. Satisfied that there would be no alert sounded inside the house, it turned to its secondary objective, pulling out a printed note from a storage compartment and laying it prominently on the pillow before turning back to the sleeping mare.

Slinging her over its back, the drone ran over to the window and leapt out into the wintery night. 




Scene 5




Vinyl Scratch stared at the two blinking dots on the digitised map in front of her and contemplated homicide.

She wasn't picky in her scheming, as thoughts of countless other felonies drifted through her skull as she sat, transfixed. She blocked out everything around her in her concentration, discarding all sensation and perception of the world. She no longer felt the omnipresent numbing cold that pervaded all of M.A.R.E, seeping into her very bones. She no longer felt the faint warmth of the electric heater, or the rough texture of the blankets she clutched, cocooned around her statuesque body.

The only thing that concerned Vinyl at this very moment were thoughts of the most dark and vile crimes that could be imagined by pony kind. Vinyl’s fixation lasted for endless dragging minutes, not even so much as blinking as the time trudged past. 

Wrapped head to hoof in chunky woolen clothes, Octavia paused to tend to the mare. Reaching into the blankets, she pulled out a tepid hot water bottle, sliding a freshly heated one in its place. Octavia paused expectantly for some manner of thanks, but was only met with frustrated disappointment. Sighing, she deposited a new, warm mug of cocoa next to the untouched, frozen one before wandering off to huddle by the heater, muttering to herself.

Having just walked into the command room, Bon-Bon stopped to consider the spectacle.

"What are you doing?"

Vinyl didn't turn around as she kept up her hypnotic vigil.

"I'm trying to get insight into the criminal mind in order to figure out what it is that Trixie's planning."

Octavia glanced up from her own hot beverage to scoff, the abominable conditions and sheer thanklessness of her companion adding more than a drop of bitterness to her tone.

"Perhaps you should reconsider your credentials in this matter. While I'm sure that if we ever needed insight into the juvenile mind, you would be the first pony on call, this situation may be a bit more than your photocopied psychological degree can handle."

Growling in frustration, Vinyl leapt from her nest of blankets, knocking them to the ground as she pounded a hoof on those two infernal dots.

"These energy readings have to mean something! All the Empire's usual dealings have ground to a halt and suddenly two 'unrelated' locations start setting off our sensors? This is fishy. This is really fishy. In fact, this is so fishy that given half a chance, we could track Trixie's location just by following the trail of hungry cats, it's so fishy."

Bon-Bon clapped her hooves together, backing away from Vinyl as she pressed her face right up into the screen, grimacing in suspicion.

"Okaaayy... Well, you keep doing that. Is the Commander still in her office?” 

Octavia nodded.

“Where else? She only leaves to get more muffins before scurrying right on back. I think she may be planning on hibernating until the whole storm blows over.”

“I wish I’d thought of that.”

Ducking out of the room, Bon-Bon trotted through the corridors until she reached the reception of Derpy’s office. Seeing that Lyra was not yet here, she took the seat closest to the radiator and folded her forelegs stubbornly against the chill. Five minutes past in uncomfortable silence until the faint clatter of hooves signaled the arrival of her wayward companion.

“You’re late. Again.”

Lyra glanced at her through weary eyes, reaching back into her saddle bags to pull out a wad of crumpled paper that she held to her muzzle in a futile attempt to halt the flow of nasal emulsions endlessly dripping from her snout. Wheezing slightly, she spoke in the slowed and drawling manner of a pony with stuffed-up sinuses.

“I’m sorry... I had to stop on my way here to stock up on boxes of ti-tiss-achooos!” 

Bon-Bon flicked snot from her mane, with an unamused glare.

“... Let’s just see what Derpy wants, shall we?”

Wilting further, Lyra didn’t even risk opening her mouth this time.

“Uh-huh.”

Unannounced, the pair of them barged into the commander’s office with little hesitation. Raising their brows, they found that the normally paper-strewn office had been buried under piles of crumbs, with only a few brave icons of furniture daring to peek out and identify the space as being the same office they knew and loved. The source of the invasion was plain as day, the entire back wall of the office being obscured behind pile after pile of familiar baked goods, stacked lovingly in some kind of holy shrine to all things sacred and muffinly.

Sitting, entombed at her desk was, of course, Derpy.

“Ah! Harpflank, Sweets, you made it. I was beginning to worry that we’d been snowed in so badly that you couldn’t enter the building.”

“We have. We only got in because the cleaning staff have taken to using Vinyl’s super laser to carve out a tunnel to the local Pony Joe’s.”

Derpy frowned, a cascade of muffins sliding down to the floor at her slightest movement.

“They aren’t authorised to use that equipment. How did they even figure out how?”

“I think the energy craving is sufficient motivation in itself.”

Sniffling, Lyra rubbed a bleary hoof over her face in impatience.

“Can we get to why you called us here, Commander? With no Trixie around, I‘d really like to get back to bed before I come down with full-blown pneumonia-ah-ah-”

Flinching in shock, Bon-Bon grabbed more tissues from Lyra's bag and stifled the sneeze before it could fully formulate. Spreading her wings defensively, Derpy growled out a reprimand as she tensed in an instinct of almost motherly protection.

“Kindly keep your slime away from my muffins, Lyra. These have to last me until we get thawed out and I would appreciate you not contaminating them."

She rose from her chair like a Demon rising from the pit.

"You wouldn’t want to see me without my muffins, now would you?” 

For a second, the shadow of Derpy’s spread wings passed over Lyra and Bon-Bon, filling them with a profound feeling of dread. Shaking their heads they both spoke in unison.

“No, Commander.”

“Good.”

Settling back into her seat, Derpy pulled a muffin from the pile and chomped into it with authoritative conviction.

“Now as to why you are here, it’s because we can’t count on Trixie taking a snow day just yet. There is still a threat lurking somewhere in our city, and it’s our duty as agents of M.A.R.E to seek it out.”

Lyra deflated slightly.

“Are you sure I can’t take just a little nap?”

“You saw Vinyl’s suspicious readings, didn’t you? There’s something going on, and we need to be ready. Which is why I need you to take a special mission.”

She tapped at the table irritably, pausing as if reconsidering her proposal. Despite this she shook her head and proceeded anyway.

"Local entrepreneur Filthy Rich is holding a charity fundraiser tomorrow night at city hall. Most every important pony in the city will be there, and the Mayor is concerned that the Empire will take the opportunity to make a serious move."

Reaching into her desk, Derpy pulled out two invitations and slid them across the desk towards her agents.

"With the city locked down by snow, we really can't afford to lose any of these vital ponies... which is why I assured the Mayor that Harpflank and Sweets will be in attendance."

Lyra and Bon-Bon shared a look. Bon-Bon tried to put things delicately.

"It's a nice idea, Commander... But don't you think the party-goers might get the teensiest bit panicked when they see a pair of superheroes checking their punch and frisking ponies at the entrance?"

Derpy leaned back in her chair and smirked a little.

"Yes, which is why I've arranged for the invitations to be addressed to 'musical prodigy' and minor celebrity Lyra Heartstrings and her manager. Both of whom will be hopefully a lot more... subtle in their mission."

Lyra's jaw dropped.

"You mean I have to socialise? And I don't get to frisk anypony?! What a rip..."

After a second of pouting, Lyra's ears perked up.

"... And what do you mean, minor celebrity?!"

Ignoring Lyra’s protests, Bon-Bon glared at her boss.

"Commander, our agreement was that our civilian identities would not be involved in M.A.R.E. Business. Surely if the empire attacks this party, we would still be able to step in before things got out of hoof... Trixie isn't exactly 'subtle'."

Derpy shuffled the papers on her desk, not meeting Bon-Bon's eyes. More than usual.

"Well, we could put you on stakeout outside the building... But the fundraiser lasts all night and well, you know how cold it gets recently..."

"... Point taken."

Derpy rose, signalling that their meeting was over.

“Good luck, agents. Although the storm rages on, all of us will sleep sound in our beds knowing Harpflank and Sweets carry the weight of our fair city into a brighter, warmer tomorrow.”

Lyra whimpered, mopping at her nose with yet another tissue.

“Please don’t mention beds...” 




Scene 6




Fleur had never felt colder in her life.

She awoke, face-down in the snow, with every extremity numb from the winter embrace. Spitting slush from her mouth, she literally cracked open her eyelids, feeling minute ice crystals break from her lashes as she stared into the impossibly drenched and matted mane that hung down over her face. 

Twitching her disobedient legs into action, she tried to rise to her hooves, but her long, slender legs collapsed beneath her as twin metal hooves pressed into her shoulders and forced her down. Noiselessly gasping as her body went into shock, she shivered her way into a kneeling position and brushed aside the snow-clustered pink locks to better see her captors.

The two Lunatrons at either side of her were absolutely motionless, standing sentinel so impassively that if they hadn't already proved they had her restrained, she would have sworn that they had frozen solid.

Looking around, she could see that they were in a field in the middle of nowhere, presumably a few miles from the city limits, judging from the surrounding mountain range she could just about make out in the sky-dominating storm that blew around her.

Something else she could see was Filthy Rich sitting cross-legged on a fold-out chair as he slurped coffee from a thermos. Noticing her movement, a smile oozed out from his mouth like toxic waste oozing from a landfill.

"Ah, you're awake. Sorry about the early rise, but I really had to beat the traffic if I want to get this all done today."

Fleur's pain seeped out through her voice as she tentatively tried to shake warmth back into her tongue. 

"Filthy... What have you done?"

He flicked a hoof and the Lunatrons threw her back into the snow. Rising from his chair, he trotted over and lifted her chin to his face.

"I prefer 'Mr Rich'."

She tried to bite his hoof, but he pulled away just in time. Tutting disapprovingly, he took a step back.

"Now, now... Any more of that and my associates will be forced to put you to sleep again. Which would be a shame, as I really want you to see this next bit."

He noticed her eyes shift to the two robots holding her.

"You're wondering about my new friends? Quite efficient, I must say. No complaints, no questions, no paycheck. Perhaps one day my entire workforce will look just like these."

Fleur felt a rising tide of bile in her throat as this contemptible stallion somehow managed to drill his way even lower into her esteem, covering the hole in layer upon layer of his own trademarked filth. She lobotomised him with her gaze as she tried to suppress her shivers. 

"Why are you working with the Lunar Empire? They want to destroy our very way of life! Even you have to see that their governance will destroy your precious business empire."

He chuckled as he paced around behind her.

"My lady Luna isn't opposed to free enterprise. In fact, when she rules Equestria, I will be free to do anything I want! As you can see, I'm already reaping the rewards of being able to put myself in a more favourable bargaining position."

"Bargaining position?!"

She laughed in bitter disbelief. Surely he couldn't still be after the mansion? Fleur couldn't understand why he wanted it badly enough to do something like this, but she was starting to consider that he may no longer be above the realms of madness. If he ever was, that is.

"If you think you can force me to sign anything-"

"No, no. You have it all wrong, my dear. You aren't the one doing the bargaining. You're the bargaining chip."

Before she could raise an objection, the sound of hooves crunching snow grew closer from somewhere in the howling gale. A silhouette appeared in the endless white, growing harder and more defined as the pony limped closer.

She soon lost count of the number of times the figure stumbled in the snow, pushing onwards relentlessly and with an almost inequine determination and purpose. Fleur gasped as he finally lurched close enough to recognize, his distinctive face peeking out even through the insane amount of clothes he had thrown on in order to make the journey. She immediately attempted to rush over to him, forgetting all about her situation in an overriding rush of protectiveness and fear.

"Fancy, what are you doing?! You can't be out in your condition! How long have you been in this storm?"

Filthy smirked as the machines once again pulled her to the ground.

"On hoof? Must have taken him a good hour to get here."

Fancy stopped, sliding to a shaky halt a few feet away from Rich as he struggled to remain standing. He shivered in place, giving his enemy a restrained and even buisnesspony's stare as his muscles betrayed him to the cold.

"Is this really what it's come to, Rich? Kidnapping and blackmail, alliances with criminals?"

Filthy spread his hooves in a shrug.

"I tried to be reasonable-"

"-and it turns out, such a feat is beyond you."

They stared each other down until Fancy's back legs gave out, forcing him into a shivering huddle. Fancy looked down at the ground morosely.

"Were you ever the pony I thought that you were when we were in school? Were we ever friends? Or were you always this... Monster, and I was just a fool to not see it?"

Filthy looked the broken stallion over with casual interest, biting his cheek in thought. Eventually, he opted to speak his mind, drifting into disgusted reminiscence.

"... You always were a relic, even when we were young. A product of a bygone age of nobility and chivalry. The Rich must be ruthless, Fancy. And you are soft. The world Celestia creates favours kind hearts like you. Stooping to offer help to the 'less fortunate' rather than stepping on them to climb ever higher... It held you back, while I thrived."

"But you're already at the top. Why do you keep trying to bury others beneath you? Has your rampant ambition truly made you unable to enjoy what you have?"

Rich chuckled darkly.

"The days when kindness could tame the wild beast and banish the darkness are ancient history. Celestia's idealised old pony tales designed to hold back the future, or perhaps an unwanted remnant of our herd-dwelling ancestors."

Turning back, he nodded to the Lunatrons. One of them raised their hoof to Fleur's neck, extending a deadly blade in a 'schwing' of frosty menace.

"Luna can have Equestria. In the endless days to come, I will be the pony remembered for creating the future where ponies can become predator, rather than prey."

Fancy struggled to stand in panic.

"Fleur! Don't you harm her, you unspeakable-"

Filthy punched him across the face, forcing him to the ground in pained, gasping coughs. Waiting for the stallion to recover, Rich pulled out a prepared contract for the transferal of a deed. It fluttered like a flag in the blustery gale as Filthy offered a pen to his broken compatriot.

"Your home."

He stomped a hoof and a Lunatron made a painful, stinging cut along Fleur's beautiful face. She cried out as the cold seeped in and tried to freeze the blood as it fell.

"Your wife. It is a simple choice, Fancy. What would you rather leave behind after you fade from this world?"

Fleur raged in the bonds of her captors.

"What are you talking about? Don't you dare do anything to him!"

Filthy grinned.

"I don't need to. He's already done it to himself."

She looked back down to see Fancy scrawl off the last letter to his name before collapsing from sickness. The pen fell from his mouth as he curled up in the snow, shaking and murmuring deliriously as he succumbed to the cold.

Rich rolled up the completed contract and nodded to his robots. The two Lunatrons released Fleur from their grasp and stood to attention as she dove to Fancy's side, trying to rub warmth into him as she showered him in reassurances.

"Fancy... Fancy, look at me. You're going to be fine. I'll get you somewhere warm, ok? Fancy, we'll get through this. I'm not going to lose you."

"I very much doubt that."

Fleur whipped her head back to Rich, her hair a total mess as tears streamed down and mingled with her cut and the snow.

"I didn't ask you... You monster! I won't let him die like this! You got what you wanted, just go!"

Filthy proceeded to do the exact opposite, trotting around to the stallion's other side and dropping into a crouch. He impassively looked over the trembling form before peeling back Fancy's clothing to bare a neck laced with glowing green veins.

"He's slowly dying of a very rare Changeling poison, notoriously difficult to obtain, but incredibly painful. The Changelings designed it to make their prey easier to digest, leaking their love everywhere until nothing's left but a dry, emotionless husk. It's been a week since he was first infected and he's slipping into complete mental shutdown."

He shook his head.

"He's not going to get better, Fleur."

Fleur's voice came out as a whisper.

"You did this?"

"Well, it wasn't my first choice, but when he refused to sell, her Highness became insistent I hurry the process along a bit."

She bit back her first response, trembling as badly as her husband as she beseeched Filthy with desperately pleading eyes.

"Please, call an ambulance, give him an antidote, anything!"

His gaze turned cold.

"I can't. Most doctors don't even know this poison exists. The Changelings designed it to be untraceable, after all."

"No. No. No, no, no. You're lying. You have everything in the world at your hoof tips. Help him."

She wailed, clutching Fancy's head in her forelegs.

"Damn you, Filthy, help him!"

"I can't. And I don't care."

He rose to his hooves, adjusting his coat as the Lunatrons moved to flank him on either side.

"Now sorry about this, Fleur my dear, but now you know about my... Unusual business partners, I'm not really supposed to let you leave here alive. However... I'm sure we can reach some sort of agreement..."

Fleur glared at him with unquenchable hatred, causing him to raise his hooves in defence.

"Now now, hear me out! It's quite simple really. I can't help but notice that you seem to be lacking a husband now, and, well I've been looking for a new wife to share my massive wealth and luxury. So, come live with me, and we can forget all about this nasty murder business."

He rubbed his hooves together in a manner that probably had nothing to do with the cold.

"However, if you don't agree to the offer... Then the 'business' may have to extend its working hours to... accommodate your decision."

He turned to leave, motioning the Lunatrons to keep watching her. They drew their blades, ready to slay her if given any signs she was attempting to escape.

"I'll leave you two to... Discuss my proposal."

Fleur choked back a sob, clutching Fancy's hooves to her chest as the tears froze on her face. Filthy vanished from her perception long before he vanished from her sight, the external influences of her senses shutting down as her world collapsed down to just her and her husband, lying alone in the snow.

Reaching out, she took his hoof in hers and gave him a squeeze that he had not the coherence to return. She stroked his mane, watching his breathing slow as she drifted into thoughts of what was to come.

She thought of a funeral, and all the times they would never get to share, the life they would not be able to have.

She thought of the ponies that came to her for food and shelter, cast out in the storm with nopony to tend to their sickness.

But mostly, she thought of Filthy Rich, cutting open the skin of her city so that the Imperial virus could crawl inside and infect it. Of him, sitting victorious in a city of the moon, surrounded by machines and madmares as the citizens succumbed in the city streets.

In that instant, Fleur felt hatred for the first time. She had thought she understood what it meant to hate, but she didn’t. It was as if every time she had thought she had felt angry or disgusted had been but a single letter, and like an illiterate soul, she had never put them together to read the whole word. The passion she felt for that stallion was intoxicating, it burned through her with an all-consuming intensity like nothing she had ever felt for another pony... Save for the one she held in her hooves.

Yes, as perverse as it sounded, her love... True love was the only comparable feeling. For this was its antithesis, true hate... Two sides of an emotional coin that had now been flipped, switching to its polar opposite. 

Fleur knew better than most of the power of love. Her friendship with Cadance, the teachings of the Crystal Nation, all she and Fancy had done together... Everything that had proven to her that love is limitless, unstoppable, overwhelming and uncontainable.

... Which means that its opposite had to be all of those things as well.

The fire of hatred ignited in her, and burned hot enough to match even the cold of the blizzard whipping around the empty field. She gave a guttural cry of anguish, calling out to the storm in a wordless proclamation of suffering.

And the storm answered her.

The snow ceased to fall on the two of them, the howling winds redirecting to create a miniature eye in the freezing storm. The watching Lunatrons glanced around in confusion, their simple programming unable to understand the drastic climate shift going on around them. 

Slowly raising her weeping eyes from her lover, Fleur peered out from the matted curtain of her frozen mane, confused and vulnerable as she sought out the source of this becalmed state.

They emerged from the blizzard as if it had been concealing their presence the entire time. Three glowing vortexes of icy flakes condensed into the shape of something ancient and primal. Ethereal hooves clopped onto the frigid soil as they stepped from the snow, looking upon the huddled and broken ponies with interest and concern. 

They were twice the size of any pony, even a Princess, their outlined shapes speaking of power and freedom, a horse-like form whole worlds apart from the soft and furry contours of a modern equine. 

They were ghosts, shadows of a most distant past, before kingdoms, before civilisation.... But their eyes... Their eyes blazed with an intelligence, an understanding, an empathy.

Fleur mumbled in recognition.

"Windegos..."

The three creatures slowly approached, surrounding Fleur and Fancy as words blew by on the howling wind.

  "Pain...
...Hatred
Dying...
Frozen...
...Anger
... Save him...
... Save him...
...Save."

Fleur grasped tighter to Fancy's hoof as she dared to hope.

"You can help him?"


"Cold...
...Broken
...Suffer
...Assist...
...Assist...
...Assist
...Salvation.
...Sanctuary."

Fleur gritted her teeth.

"Sanctuary... He'll destroy it. All that we've struggled to build... All those lives."

    "...Destroy
...Destroy
Destroy...
...Vengeance...
...Vengeance."


"Vengeance."

Fleur mouthed the final word of the chant in agreement. An understanding passed between the unicorn and the spirits as they reared back and whinnied in approval. The blizzard rushed back into the clearing as the Windegos began to trot in a circle around the ponies. 

The wind and the spirits swiftly gathered speed, accelerating into a gallop as they rose into the air, losing definition as they became as one with the storm. Faster and faster they flew, spiraling into an icy tornado as their eyes flashed and poured unearthly power down into the center, into the body of their chosen champion. 

The watching Lunatrons, finally registering the colossal surge of magic, had at last come to the conclusion that the transpiring events stood in conflict to their orders and leapt at Fleur with blades drawn. A foolish action as it turned out, when they found themselves sparking and smoking on impaling spikes of ice that shot out and tore them apart all in the same cold-misted breath.

After what seemed an eternity, the spirits slowed to a crawl, floating back down to hover over the shoulder of the mare gasping in awe of the wild and tempestuous power they had bestowed on her. She was shook from her reverie as Fancy briefly gained enough cognisance to mumble in bleary incoherence.

"Don't blame yourself... An eye... Incredible eye... Preserve something special..."

Fleur's grin split her face in inspiration as her Windigo companions parroted the rambling in a chorus of echoes.

     "Preserve...
...Preserve...
...Preserve."

Fancy gasped, repeating his delirious assertion.

“Don’t... Blame yourself. You can’t... Save everyone...”

Fleur held her hooves in front of her face as if she had never seen them before. Slowly, she lowered them to Fancy’s chest and watched as a sheen of ice spread out across his body, completely encapsulating him.

“But I can... I can keep you alive for as long as I want.”




Scene 7




Redheart galloped from room to room, looking around in panic. Navigating the massive mansion, she glanced into every doorway, searched every en-suite, visited every anteroom and climbed every staircase. Slowing to a halt on the balcony over the ruined ballroom, Redheart bit her lip, her eyes flicking from side-to-side in concern as she attempted to reign in her intense worry.

Having attended to the needs of the residents throughout the entire night, she had only one more task to complete before her shift started at M.A.R.E. She would bring Fancy Pants his breakfast and morning medication, expressing her farewell to both him and Fleur before leaving the Sanctuary in her capable hooves as she made the long journey back into the heart of the city.

However, upon reaching the master bedroom, she had found that her patient was not there, and further examination revealed that neither was her friend. She had searched nearly the whole building and found no sign of either of them, which was a rather major concern considering that Fancy Pants was in no fit condition to travel anywhere even if the atmospheric thermostat had been set to ‘tropical resort’ rather than ‘polar wasteland’.

She blew back a strand of mane, coming to a decision. There was nothing for it but to go out looking for them. 

It was a desperate plan. Even with her connections to M.A.R.E’s advanced information and intelligence gathering network, the probability of successfully locating two missing ponies in a blizzard this intense was quite a few too many zeroes on the wrong side of the decimal point for any hope of success.

But that was irrelevant. She had to try anyway.

Her resolve set, Redheart made haste for the entrance hall, intending to reclaim her saddlebags and set out into the cold, cold storm. However, as she approached the top of the grand staircase she was stopped in her tracks by the sounds of a large commotion by the entrance. Thinking fast, she vaulted the banister, dropping down into the shadowy crevice behind the stairs.

The room was being cleared out. Muscular ponies in thick winter gear were hustling the homeless from the room, waking them from restless naps and herding them out of the double doors and into the back of Richcorp branded vans parked on the driveway. Even as Redheart looked on, a similarly-branded helicopter barely touched down, battered by the howling winds as a team of shivering workponies unloaded crate after crate of unknown supplies and carried them inside the mansion.

Redheart let a frown fall over her face as she crouched in the shadows. Whatever was going on was clearly quite a large undertaking... And an even larger coincidence.

Staying out of sight, she sneaked closer to the entrance and began to eavesdrop on a very heated argument going on between the impatient overseers and one very irate donkey. With a glance, Redheart could tell that the handlers were not normal Richcorp employees, as their clothes bore no logo or affiliation of any kind. By observing their beefy size and general posture it looked as if they were combat-trained, meaning that they were most likely hired mercenaries and that their heavy winter clothes likely concealed weapons that she somehow doubted that they would have been ordered not to use.

Redheart glanced back from the door to the food counter on the far side of the hall. Her weapons and M.A.R.E saddlebags were still back there, but she couldn't call for backup until she knew just what Rich wanted all of her patients for, otherwise the M.A.R.E. agents just might scare the thugs into running off and then she’d never find out just what was going on here.

The commotion outside drew her attention once more as the elderly Donkey seemed to be giving the hired muscle a surprising run for their money. Stumbling in the snow, Cranky struggled against the ushering hooves of his escorts, turning red in the face as he ranted in crotchety fury.

"Relocation? Relocation?! In this weather? Are you mad? We'll freeze before we even get to the end of the street. More than half of us are sick already, and you want to drag us out of the only home we have?"

The lead mercenary struggled to hold in a groan as he attempted to block the donkey from sidestepping his constant pushing. Cranky was intent on making a scene, and it seemed this stallion would rather put a stop to it before he gave any of the other residents any ideas.

"Sir, this building is derelict and unfit for habitation. Mr Rich has ordered an immediate refurbishment, which cannot proceed with the presence of squatters-"

"Squatters? The owners completely converted it into a shelter for us!"

The pony grunted with exertion, struggling to uproot the donkey's hooves as he pushed him back towards the vans.

"You are... mistaken, sir. Mr Rich has made it quite clear he wants you moved to one of his other facilities-"

"What? That Filthy- Get your hooves off of me!"

Three more ponies came to their leader's aid, lifting Cranky from the snowy ground and carrying him into the closest van, taking various kicks and punches as they did so. Redheart bit her lip. If she didn't act now, then most, if not all of her homeless patients would only worsen in their conditions, provided the armed guards didn't finish them first. However, she still had no idea what was going on and an ill-fated rescue attempt could put everybeing in even more danger than they were right now.

It was in this moment of indecision that the lady of the manor returned home.

"Release him!"

All heads turned to the mansion gates as a commanding voice brought the rough handling to a stop. What they saw was a ruined mare, coated head-to-tail in frost, with a mane utterly matted, tangled and solidified by ice. Scratches and bruises shone through from under her frozen fur and her eyes were filled with a cold that made her frosted exterior seem almost cozy by comparison.  A large block of ice floated behind her, suspended in a telekinetic field, though from this distance, Redheart could not discern the outlined shape suspended inside of it. 

Redheart was filled with equal parts relief and trepidation at the sight of her absent friend. It was a flat-out winter miracle that Fleur had somehow returned unharmed, but the ordeal she seemed to have undertaken could only have been a horrifying one.

But before Redheart could make any further speculation on the events that had transpired, she was forced to tense her body in shock as her dainty, supermodel unicorn friend decided to walk right up to the seven heavily muscular and, most likely armed, Earth pony stallions and aggressively confront them. 

"These creatures are under my protection, and I will not allow you to take them from me! Not anymore... I'm giving you one chance to leave... To go tell Filthy Rich that he will not steal even one more thing from me!"

Her face twisted into a savage snarl unlike any that had ever graced her normally beautiful countenance.

"Do you hear me? Leave! Before I make you!"

Gathering confused glances from his various comrades, one stallion broke off from the group to try and restrain the raging mare. 

"Listen here, Ma'am. You can't be harassing our staff or trespassing on Richcorp property-"

He laid a hoof on her shoulder and his foreleg immediately turned to ice. He screamed in shock, stumbling back as Fleur reared up on her hind legs. As her hooves came back down, she slammed one into the side of his head, smashing it into the ground before freezing it to the flagstones in an instant.

"No, this is my property! It belongs to me!"

She swung her neck around, directing with her horn as a wave of ice shot along the ground and slammed hard into the group of goons holding Cranky. Pivoting on the mercenary’s frozen head, Fleur spun in place, shooting a beam of magic as she did. On the other side of the courtyard, the supply chain of workponies tending to the idling helicopter were sent scurrying for cover as they saw the beam headed right for them. With a screech of abused metal, the copter's whirling blades froze to an immediate halt as creeping ice consumed the cockpit and all of its mechanisms.

Redheart's eyes widened in shock at the sudden display of ferocity. One of the mercenaries cursed loudly and barked a command to the rest of his group. Without hesitation, they drew their guns from the depths of the winter clothes.

"Damnit, if we let her take the mansion, Trixie will have all our heads! Get the hobos out of here before any of them escape!"

Fleur threw up a wall of ice between her and the mercenaries, blocking a barrage of gunfire as Rich's goons made a break for the vans that they had filled with captured ponies.

Fleur, undeterred by the hail of bullets, advanced on the retreating mercenaries. With every stomping step she took, she slid her ice wall along the ground towards them. As they neared the parked vans, Fleur dashed forwards, slamming her ice wall into the goons and then using it to pin the fleeing stallions up against the sides of their vehicles. She yelled in increasing desperation as she pushed against the trapped ponies harder and harder, practically crushing them flat.

"No! You can't take them! I'm their caretaker! They're my patients, my residents, my responsibility! They're my responsibility! They're mine! I've lost too much already, he can't have them too! They belong to me! To me!"

Fleur stumbled back, shaking in anger. She let her wall loosen slightly as she felt the ponies pass out from lack of oxygen, leaving just enough pressure to keep them pinned without splattering them all over the windows.

She whimpered, struggling to control her temper as she staggered over to the ice block, leaning on it for support.

"I'm sorry Fancy... I almost let them take them. I almost... No! I can't stop now."

She took a deep breath, brushing back her frozen mane as she gazed lovingly at the ice block.

"I can persevere. I can preserve. I know what to do, the way that I can finally save everyone."

She turned to the closest van. Cranky Doodle had gotten back up after being jack-handled by the mercs, and was now trying to force open the rear doors and free the locked up ponies inside. Setting a neutral mask on her face, Fleur trotted over to this door and pushed him aside. An expression of pain and hesitation passed over her for a moment before she reached out and touched the metal with her hoof.

Her new powers flowed through her, conducting through the frame and everything inside as she froze the entire van in one gigantic block of ice. Cranky turned to her in outrage and horror, his knobbled legs shaking in the snow.

"Have you gone mad? There are still ponies in there that need help!"

"And that is what I am giving them."

Fleur turned her cold eyes onto him, fixing Cranky with an even glare.

"Hurt, lost, sick ponies, huddling under my roof. All of them, dying like flies. Coughing, wheezing, crying. Cold and scared, with no hope for tomorrow. They have lost everything... Their loved ones, their homes, their jobs, their respect, their dreams. Be it sickness of body or the sickness of soul, I cannot cure them. But I can keep them alive. I am their caretaker, but every day I watch them die a little on the inside and on the out."

A single tear slid down her frosted face as she choked out a snarl.

"... No more."

Fleur circled Cranky, smiling sadly as she spoke softly and with compassion.

"I'm sorry it took so long, but I finally have a way to save you all. Mrs Kindle and her dodgy hip, Mr Blackboard and his failing liver, Buttercream's fading eyesight, Springwater's lung infection..."

She paused, sliding Cranky's woolen hat off his head so she could run a hoof along the smooth skin beneath.

"Even your baldness might be cured in time..."

The old Donkey spluttered, trying to knock her hoof away. She caught the strike with her other hoof, her eyes turning cold as a wave of ice began to spread down from where she touched him.

"...And now I can give you that time."

Cranky shivered, his eyes widening in fright as his entire body slowed to a standstill. He gasped at the cold, muttering a single word.

"... Matilda-"

And then he was frozen solid.

Fleur felt the wind and sleet blow through her mane and tail as she turned to the horrified faces of the ponies she had taken under her roof. She smiled creepily before turning her horn on the next van in line.

"- I can give you all the time in the world."

Backing up in disbelief, Redheart's eyes flicked back and forth over the crystalline casings of ice that were quickly silencing the mewling cries of the beings inside. A long moment passed, dragging on and on in skin-crawling tension. Too stunned to compose a thought, Redheart simply stared, eyes wide, mouth ajar and with every hair of her coat standing on end. 

All her stealth was forgotten as she just stood there in the entranceway, eyes wide and ears flat against her skull. Although she had seen some terrible things in her time both as a nurse and an agent of M.A.R.E, the disconnect of seeing her most altruistic friend act with such brutality had left her too shocked and horrified to follow her training and remain out of sight. 

Chilled by more than just the icy winds, Redheart gritted her teeth as Fleur's eyes turned to focus on her.

She turned and ran.

The empty entrance hall seemed to stretch on into infinity as Redheart galloped full-tilt towards the back wall. Seconds that felt like minutes ticked by as she darted over discarded sleeping bags and around soot-blackened braziers in a mad rush to get to cover.

After what felt like an age, Redheart's sprint led her to the makeshift kitchen at the back of the hall. Implements lay strewn about as, due to all her other duties, she hadn't had time to clean up Fleur's cooking, and so the food counter was still piled high with bowls from last night's soup. These bowls were sent clattering and shattering to the ground as she vaulted the counter, rolling to a stop before pressing her back into the crevice underneath the sink and pricking up her ears to listen for any sound signalling she had been followed inside.

Hiding in the shadows of the low-budget kitchen, she lay crouched among the broken pots, now completely still even as her mind continued to race on in earnest. With the wide-open front doors letting in the Arctic air, her heavy breathing condensed into wispy clouds as she desperately assessed her options. 

There weren't many of them. Although she had stashed her M.A.R.E saddlebags back here the night before, they were mainly filled with medical supplies and as such, were not of much use in the current situation. Cursing her helplessness, she slid a hoof into one of the side pockets and she activated her communicator's emergency beacon. 

Although it was of some comfort to know that her death would not be completely in in vain, she felt a twinge of frustration as her combat training screamed a reminder that she was not nearly as 'helpless' as she pretended to be. As if to prove this to her, for a brief second, Redheart's eye flitted over to the frost-strewn shotgun latched to the underside of the counter a mere meter away. 

But only for a second. Redheart tore her gaze away, refusing to take that path against a friend, even one who could do something like-

"Get up Red. It's your turn."

Redheart leapt to her hooves, twisting her body as she lashed out with a forehoof, connecting only with-

Cold.

Redheart fell to the ground, knocked backwards as she clutched to the frozen limb hanging rigidly at her side. Fleur calmly walked over to her, a gentle smile on her face. 

"You know I'm not going to hurt you, Red. I'm sorry about the cold, but I'm sure you know better than most that it often takes a little anaesthetic to numb the pain before your patients will allow you to help them."

Fleur lit her horn, floating over the frozen body of her husband and laying it propped up close to the sink. Redheart grimaced, gripping her frigid foreleg in a futile attempt to restore feeling to the encapsulated limb. Seeming to ignore this, Fleur trotted around their kitchen with a wistful expression. She paused by the countertop as if something had occurred to her and then reached into one of the drawers. 

Her face darkened considerably when she pulled out two invitations decorated with Rich's signature. Now scowling in utter disgust, she returned one invitation to the drawer and tucked the other behind one ear for later. Fleur turned back to Redheart, leaning against the drawer for support.

"All the long hours we spent behind this very counter... We gave them food, warmth and medicine... we gave them hope and we gave them care. Every day and every moment we tried to keep them going, tried to preserve their lives even if for only one more day."

She shook her head, the crystalline clumps of frozen mane barely shifting at the movement.

"But that's all that it was, preservation. A desperate, losing struggle against death each and every day as we tried to deny the sickness and entropy the chance to end their lives forever."

"The ice... The powers I've been given. The principle is the same. Preservation from death for as long as possible. It's harsh, I know, I know..."

She dragged her hooves over her eyes grimacing in guilt as she glanced over to the frozen form of her husband.

"But I can't go back to the warmth. Not now, not ever. If they thaw, they die. Sooner or later they die. I... I can't lose any more, Red. I can't lose him, lose them... I can't. They're mine now. My responsibility."

A few moments passed as Fleur tried to calm herself. As she did, she couldn't help but to take notice of Redheart glowering resentfully at her from where she limped on the floor. Fleur bit her tongue and glared back.

"You're looking scornfully at me? This is what we wanted, Red! Finally, a way to save everyone! We've known for so long that this city is sick. Rich and the Empire, they're destroying Metropony, festering away like gangrene... We have to cut them out before they infect us any further."

She gave a twisted and vengeful smile that slowly contorted into irrational anger.

"Once they're gone, I can begin my work on preservation. I will never again allow a single life to be consumed by sickness, never again allow death and disease to claim anyone in my city. These are my ponies, and I won't allow them to die!"

Redheart shifted into a sitting position. Still fighting off the shock from her frozen limb, she shudderingly opened her mouth as words stumbled forth. Fleur's ears perked up, nudged from her trance as she heard a vague mumble. She looked quizzically at Redheart, the picture of childlike innocence.

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

Redheart looked her straight in the eyes and spoke again.

"I'm not sick."

Fleur blinked.

"Why, you're right! You're fit, healthy... In the prime of life!"

Redheart felt something press against her forehead. As the heat drained from her body, she opened her mouth in a silent scream.

"... Let's keep you that way."




Scene 8




As evening fell on Metropony, nothing had changed for the snow-locked city. They were unaware that Celestia’s light had faded from Equestria, as the sun had not been seen in weeks, having long since vanished behind the panoramic grey expanse that had swallowed the sky. They were unaffected by feelings of tiredness and exhaustion that would drive them forth into their beds, as scant few had ever left those beds, and had simply spent the entire day shivering out the hours that had passed by in some sort of vegetative stupor. 

In the unrelenting cold, all conventional timetables and societal norms had broken down. But in their place was born a city in hibernation, trapped in an enduring stalemate between civilization and nature. In this city, there remained only one single island of society that was foolish enough to stand tall and bare its neck in defiance of the howling winds. One building that refused to be cowed and dictated to by the sniveling and spineless recommendations of common sense. The occupants of this building exclaimed a very staunch refusal to the notion that this was a time for restful napping and instead strived to do the exact opposite. 

They threw a party.

Richcorp headquarters was quite the sight, a three-hundred-story skyline-breaker adorned with the logo-ised cutie mark of its parent CEO. The triangular skyscraper lived up to its name, actually scraping the clouds as they blew past, slicing them into wisps and snowflakes as the polar winds dashed them time and again against its towering razor edges. In the dark and grey, the building blazed like a beacon, a brilliant bonfire of light that welcomed and sheltered any and all comers from the raging storm. As long as they were on the guest list, that is.

With all credit to The Commander, Lyra and Bon-Bon had found themselves on that list. After entering the building's grand foyer, they had soon been ushered into the main guest hall and been quickly separated by the merciless tides of polite conversation pulling them this way and that across the opulent forum. Though not exactly her idea of a good time, Bon-Bon had had plenty of experience in dealing with the rich and famous during her career as a talent agent, and so was less swamped than any other pony might have been. Plus, as an added bonus, it seemed Mr Rich had sunk a lot of money into the construction of his headquarters which included, much to everypony's relief, an advanced heating system that made it currently the warmest building in Metropony.

Bon-Bon looked up from her untouched wine glass to scan intently at another group of bedraggled nobles as they staggered into the hall, checking them as best she could for any suspicious activity that could warrant the action of a licensed superhero. While they seemed considerably too foppish to be dangerous, she kept an eye on them anyway, distracting herself from the current dismal conversation she found herself in.

Those new arrivals weren't the only stragglers that had come to regret being fashionably late, as the snowfall had only intensified as the day had gone on. Buffeted on all sides, they squelched their way up the sodden red carpet as they entered the luminescent building, gratefully scurrying into the warmth and chatter of the grand function hall. Many of their fancy ensembles had been ruined by this rite of passage, and indeed jackets had been torn, blazers dampened, hats whisked away, and one unfortunate mare had had her dress completely pulled inside-out by the sheer force of the wind. 

Bon-Bon was starting to wish that her dress had met the same fate, if only because it would have given her an excuse to skip out on the insistent affections of one pretentious, fawning unicorn and his stupid hair.

"This is a truly fascinating winter is it not? I know that I, at least, have not seen snowfall like this since my year-long trip to the Crystal Nation to research their ancestral carving techniques..."

Bon-Bon's grin was so forced, she was practically holding it at gunpoint.

"Uh-huh... Calving techniques, great."

Becoming imbued with unbelievable superpowers had caused a great deal of changes to her life, but among the side-effects she rarely complained about were the effortless athleticism, picture-perfect flanks and the metabolism of a hyperthyroidic hummingbird. The notion of dieting had vanished from the vernacular of the candy-branded mare, being replaced by an untempered sweet-tooth that would bring any other mare to weep tears of pure jealousy and resentment.

However, her enviable physique had backfired on her this time as she found herself trapped in the oblivious affections of the most clueless teen heartthrob in all of Equestria.

Standing a good head taller than your average pony, Trenderhoof leaned down to grace her with his goofy, love-struck smile, imaginary love-hearts blooming behind his half-lidded eyes.

“You know, Miss Bon-Bon, I picked up the most spectacular dance when I was in Saddle Arabia, writing for their annual ‘festival of renewed purpose’. It doesn’t translate well into Equestrian, but the dance itself is something that I think transcends cultural boundaries.”

He gave a dazzling, self-satisfied grin as he flicked his stupid hair back from his face before leaning in with even less subtlety. 

“I’d love to show it to you, if you’d join me in the ballroom.”

Bon-Bon backed up, feeling her form-fitting royal-blue dress bunch up about her withers as she made the hasty retreat. 

“Look, Mr Trenderhoof-”

“Please. Call me Trend.”

“... Trend. I’m very sorry, but there is somepony I really have to look out for, and I really need to get back to finding them.”

Trend perked up, the look of an eager puppy appearing across his face.

“Well, what do they look like? I can help you find them- it’s no trouble at all!”

This was kind of tight spot for her. For all his unwanted advances, Trenderhoof wasn’t actually a creep. His heart was as soft as his head, but although he wasn’t as twisted as many of the high-society guests at this fundraiser, he did share one glaring flaw with the more rigid and snooty members of the wealthy crowd. 

He was an idiot, and nopony had ever bothered to inform him of that that fact.

Bon-Bon gaped like a fish, her eyes darting nervously as she thought of an answer.

"Guh... Short. Yes, a short, grey pony with curly hair, a massive underbite and... An eyepatch! Also... Big, big wings. Bigger than he is, yeah."

Sticking with her fabrication, she shrugged lightheartedly, giving a bashful, girlish smile as an apology for breaking off from their conversation.

"He asked to speak with me tonight to... Discuss getting Lyra to perform. So gotta do that before anything else."

Trend scratched at his stupid hair in confusion.

"I didn't know that the Duke was interested in classical music. He seemed much more immersed in jazz culture when I spoke with him last."

Bon-Bon nodded.

"Yeah, I-"

She froze.

"... What?"

"I think I saw him over by the staircase on my way in. Don't worry, I'll go get him for you."

Unable to fully open or close her word-hole, Bon-Bon dragged out a string of words so as to give her stalled jaw some pretense of function.

"Yeeeeaaaaah... You... You do that."

Pausing only to kiss her not-actually-being-offered hoof, Trend ventured back into the crowd, carving a path through the throng with nothing more than the dazzling brightness of his polished teeth.

Blinking in relief and confusion, Bon-Bon decided to cut her losses and make her way over to the far side of the hall. As it turned out, Lyra was, quite typically right next to all the food. A huge 30 meter long hors d'oeuvres table traveled from wall to wall and, due to the presence of alcohol, was the subject of much attention, as well as a focal point for small groups of gossiping nobles and other such social clusters. 

Lyra, who was wearing a white dress no less stunning than Bon-Bon's own, stood at ease next to the table's centerpiece, a glistening life-sized ice sculpture of Princess Celestia. Although the presence of an ice anything seemed in poor taste given the city's circumstances, Lyra hardly paid it any mind and rather used the wide-reaching alicorn wings as cover to sneakily stuff her face with all manner of expensive and exotic nibbles from the nearby plates.

Coming to a stop behind her, Bon-Bon beheld the decimation unfolding before her.

"I thought you had a streaming cold. How are you able to maintain such an appetite?"

Lyra glanced back at her, the beauty and elegance implied by her dress being somewhat ruined by the mouth stuffed with nibbles and the nostrils stuffed with tissues. She swallowed, croaking out her excuse through a hail of crumbs.

"It's warm enough in here, but as soon as we step outside I'm going to need all the energy I can get."

Her sickness-wearied face lit up with a mischievous spark.

"... Plus, if I eat slobbishly enough, none of these snobby rich dudes try to talk to me! It's great!"

Faced with the sudden reminder, Bon-Bon folded back her ears, glancing over her shoulder to see if Trenderhoof had found her again.

"You know what? Good plan. Hoof me a plate and point me to the food you haven't sneezed over yet."

Reaching a hoof out, Bon-Bon eagerly accepted the plate Lyra floated over to her, and after squeezing up next to her under the ice sculpture, she began to stack that plate up with various miniature food items. In their little ice alcove, hunched over the refreshment table, their quest for snacks offered ample excuse to speak in hushed whispers.

"Please tell me you've spotted some Empire activity... Right now I'd give just about anything for the chance to knock a Lunatron through a couple of walls in this place."

"Sorry BB, but I've not been aware of anything that happened since I got cornered by Lord Runcible and he started talking about his fifth-largest yacht."

They both sighed.

Bon-Bon shook her head, looking over her tower of hors d'oeuvres appraisingly.

"I guess it beats being out in the cold."

But, before she could dig in, Bon-Bon's ear twitched to the sound of muted sobbing.

Bon-Bon leaned around the glittering legs of the ice Celestia, tracking the noise back to the disheveled grey-haired pony hidden on the other side of it. The pony was with another, much more dispassionate individual, who although they remained loyally by their side, made no effort to provide comfort for the distressed partygoer.

"Uh, hello?"

The mare stiffened, putting on a false smile as she turned away from the table to face them. Bon-Bon was surprised to discover that she was addressing Metropony's own Mayor Mare, but substantially less surprised to discover that the mayor was nursing a sizeable glass of wine, complete with an incredibly empty looking wine bottle resting on the table next to it.

The mayor looked confusedly at Bon-Bon before settling on Lyra with recognition.

"Oh... Oh yes, I remember you. You're the pony who performed at my ribbon-cutting ceremony last week."

She flinched.

"... Right before that giant robot kicked a hole in the side of the hospital."

The mayor looked down at her glass before taking another, very heavy drink of her wine. Finally stopping for breath, she signalled to her assistant to fill the glass back up again.

As an awkward silence began to follow, Lyra sniffled her tissue-clogged nose before making light conversation.

"So, you come back here to escape from all the snobs and business sharks too?"

The Mayor snorted in a manner suggesting that she had long since cavorted past the limiting behavioural constraints of sobriety.

"Oh, they're not so bad. The ones you really have to look out for are the voters! All they ever do is complain about misuse of expenses, or lack of healthcare funding, or complaining that the taxes are too high!"

Lyra tilted her head and frowned.

"Actually, I don't think anypony has been saying the taxes are too high... They're probably more concerned with all the robots and-"

The mayor cut her off with a quizzical expression.

"Really? No one is saying that?"

She turned to the assistant shadowing her every step.

"Make a note. Remind me to raise taxes when I get home."

As her assistant scratched out the message into her personal planner, the Mayor turned the wine glass in her hooves and stole fretful glances out into the crowded party. As she let out a quiet huff, it was quite obvious to Bon-Bon that their conversation was not at all the focus of the Mayor's attention. But, seeing as her and Lyra's presence at this atrocious shindig was primarily for the purpose of allaying the Mayor's fears, she decided that an attempt at comforting her wouldn't be amiss.

"Are you alright Mayor? You just seem kind of anxious..."

Mayor Mare flinched ever so slightly, forcing herself to look more professional.

"Oh, it's nothing... I was just assured that some... Guests were going to arrive, and I'm really quite eager to know whether they're here yet."

Her voice lowered to what she probably thought was an Inaudible level as she looked fearfully around the room.

"They should be here by now..."

Lyra and Bon-Bon shared a look. Bon-Bon gave the mayor a smile of forced reassurance. Mission or not, giving up their secret identity was not a part of their M.A.R.E. contract and she wasn't about to do so unessesarily.

"It is a big crowd. Maybe you just missed them?"

The mayor shook her head.

"No, I notice everything. Nothing ever gets past me... Which is why our budget reports are always so remarkably depressing."

She froze up.

"So many building repair costs..."

Things turned awkward as the Mayor slowly deflated, crushed under the pressure of her stressful position. With some trepidation, Lyra stepped forward and laid a hoof on her shoulder, struggling for words.

"Hey... I'm sure it can't be that bad-"

The Mayor turned and grabbed her by the front of her dress.

"Just one week without a disaster! That's all I ask! Please, just give me this!"

Lyra flinched, backing up into the table as the mayor's assistant put her hooves on the sobbing mare and led her away from prying eyes, dismissing any inquires with calming statements about how she's ‘just had a bit too much to drink’. Getting her dress back in order, Lyra composed herself with typical, if somewhat groggy, sass.

"... Aaand I suddenly feel sooo much better about not voting for her."

Left alone again, Bon-Bon turned back to her plate, chewing away as she looked out of the windows at the relentless blizzard outside. Though it started out as an absent minded stare into the hypnotic swirls of snow, when Lyra took the opportunity to start blowing her nose on the tablecloth, she instead attempted to use it as a distraction from the embarrassment she was starting to feel.

Bon-Bon blinked, focusing on a shape at the periphery of her vision.

"Lyra, did you see that?"

"See what?"

Bon-Bon pointed at the window.

"There was something out there, looking right at me. I can't make it out, but there's something moving, almost like a pony..."

Lyra squinted as she sniffled.

"It's just the snow, BB. I would have thought we've seen enough of the stuff to recognise it when we see it."

Bon-Bon sighed.

"It is just the snow, isn't it. I guess I'm just so bored that I'd welcome any sort of adversity."

"Ah, miss Bon-Bon!"

She flinched at the voice.

"... Except this sort."

Trenderhoof hit her with his most dazzling smile, floating her a glass of champagne.

"I'm sorry, but seems the Duke was already drunk by the time he got here. He's out cold in the bathroom, so you'll have to wait for another chance to ask him about that performance."

He gave a remarkably unconvincing look of sympathy before grinning wide once more.

"But enough about you, let's talk about me! Did you know that I've used more than thirty types of paper in my travels? It hardly seems possible that so many countries could make such minute yet noticeable changes to the paper-making process, and each one is perfect for writing in different circumstances!"

Bon-Bon drank the entire glass in one swig, hoping against hope that just this once, her super-equine biology would not deny her the comfort of inebriation.

No such luck.

Trenderhoof took another step forwards, forcing Bon-Bon to scoot up against the table. In a futile attempt, Bon-Bon held her stack of food in front of her like a shield, only for Trenderhoof to levitate it over to Lyra, clearing all obstruction to his adoring gaze. Presented with more food, Lyra had no complaints.

“However If I had to choose, I would always favor the paper produced by the Earthen guilds of Maretonia.”

Bon-Bon attempted to slip past him, only to find herself hemmed in by the wings of the ice Celestia. Panicking, she grabbed a glass off the table and made a show of drinking from it. Trend waited patiently for Bon-Bon to finish, awkward seconds ticking by as she downed the entire glass in one go. Feeling the last drops roll past her tongue, Bon-Bon neglected to lower the glass, instead mumbling a reply from behind the rim of the glass serving as a barrier between her lips and his, way, way too close ones.

“Oh, I’m ah... Not familiar with them.”

“Oh, it’s an absolutely fascinating process! All of the paper is made from wood that the Earth ponies personally turn into pulp with their bare hooves! It’s such a commendable tradition that results in only the sturdiest and yet highest-quality paper. Exceptionally flawless and reliable, much like the proud ponies who make it.” 

His eyes became half-lidded behind his dumb glasses as his smile became consumed by total goofiness.

“It’s truly the thing I admire most about you Earth ponies... Your...”

His eyes slid down Bon-Bon’s athletic form, shivering slightly in a way that nopony could mistake as being from the cold.

“... Strength.”

Bon-Bon screamed internally.

It was at this, most fortunate of moments that the front doors once again burst open, unleashing a gale of icy winds three times as cold as any that had preceded it. Instantly, every single pony in the foyer was chilled to their core, giving Bon-Bon ample distraction to plant her hoof In Trend’s face and not-so-gently shove him back a good four-or-five paces. 

The wind also mussed up his stupid hair, so that’s two favors she owed it.

Along with everypony else in the room, Lyra and Bon-Bon found their eyes drawn to the open doorway, and more specifically the chilling radiance of the mare who had just entered through it.

She was taller than an average pony, with fur so white that until she stepped onto the sodden red carpet, she had been completely invisible against the snow piling up against the now open doors. Her dress was a shimmering gown comprised of a thousand glimmering crystals that hugged along her barrel before trailing off into a long flowing train that snaked behind her like a second tail. 

Her horn emerged from behind a curtain of pink hair that concealed half her face. The mane dazzled and sparkled in the light just like her dress, and yet moved stiffly and unnaturally, almost unaffected by the howling winds that heralded her arrival. It was as if it had not been styled but instead had simply been drenched into its long-draped form and then frozen into shape, held together my myriad tiny ice crystals.

Bon-Bon blinked, narrowing her eyes as she tried to confirm a strange intuition.

The mystery guest stepped off the moistened carpet, levitating a gilded invitation from within her dress and presenting it to one of Richcorp's attending staff as they scrambled to get the double doors closed once more.

With the weather once more safely contained outside, the heating system struggled to get the room back up to warmth. As it did so, Bon-Bon found her suspicion confirmed as the now warm air condensed into mist around the mystery guest, adding an additional mystique to the stunning mare. Possessed by some sort of thematic fashion insanity, the latecomer had actually frozen themselves, hair, dress and all just to make a dramatic entrance.

Then again, nopony could say that it hadn't worked.

Smiling, she crossed the foyer, ponies stepping aside with haste simply to steer clear of the biting chill of her passage. She walked with natural grace and confidence, raising each hoof higher than necessary for every step before placing them down with purposeful precision, as if following the steps to a dance made for her and her alone. 

She was beautiful, yes, but despite not being overtly threatening in any discernable way, something about her presence carried an underlying aura of danger. It was as if her confidence was not born from prestige or accomplishment, but was rather innate... like an apex predator, secure in the knowledge that nothing could challenge them.

Bon-Bon found her mouth making words before she fully understood her reasons for asking.

"Who is that?"

Trenderhoof adjusted his dumb glasses and cleared his throat.

"That's Fleur de Lis. Nopony has heard from her since she gave up her modeling career a few years back. Well, almost nopony... I once interviewed her for an article on Metropony's struggling charities and volunteer groups. It was a moving and emotional think piece on the little ponies caught in the consequences of a city under siege. I'm sure you'd love reading it... even I cried just while I was writing it-"

Bon-Bon stopped listening, instead focusing on the mare making a beeline for the rear of the hall. Fleur stopped to ask something of one of Rich’s security guards, to which he nodded and led the mare off into the corridors of the office building.

The sound of a slight sniffle directed Bon-Bon's attention back to Lyra, who was still hogging the buffet. Turning, she whispered into Lyra's ear.

"What was that about?"

Lyra shrugged, her nose making an almost purring sound as she breathed through it.

"Probably just invited to go make out or something. These rich dudes can attract all kinds of attention."

"There's something off about her. I'm gonna check this out."

Lyra sneezed over another plate of food. Taking responsibility for her action, she made sure nopony else would get infected by claiming the entire plate for her own.

"Suit yourself."

She sniffed heavily.

"I'll hold down the fort here, but you may have trouble shaking your earnest admirer."

Bon-Bon sighed and moved out of whisper range, feeling creeped out when she discovered that Trend had just been lovingly gazing at her during this entire conversation. She forced a smile.

"Well, it's been nice talking to you, Trend. But I really do have to go now. For, uh reasons. Reasons pertaining to anything that isn't you. On the other side of the room. From where you are, and should remain being while I leave."

Trenderhoof sighed dreamily, having heard absolutely none of the words he didn't want to hear. Which was all of them.

Rolling her eyes, Bon-Bon decided it was long past time for her to make like the weather and give this guy the slip. With practiced ease, Bon-Bon purposefully dropped her empty glass and allowed it to roll under the expansive snack table. Gasping in mock-annoyance, Bon-Bon pointed to the spot she'd lost it.

"Oh dear. Lyra, could you get that for me?"

Blinking obliviously, Lyra fell for it.

"Uh, sure."

Trenderhoof's jaw almost fell of his face as Lyra leaned down to glance under the tablecloth, before reaching down and effortlessly lifting the entire room-length table with a single hoof. Spotting the glass, she floated it over with her magic, passing it back to Bon-Bon, who accepted with a smile.

"Thank you Lyra. Have fun."

Lyra brushed it off with a hoof wave.

"Sure thing, BB."

She suddenly frowned as Bon-Bon slipped past the stunned stallion and almost skipped away.

"... Fun with what?"

Lyra felt an unexplainable chill as she began to notice the jaw-dropped Trenderhoof transition into a state of heady infatuation.

"So, Lyra, was it? How is it that a unicorn like you can develop such remarkable strength? Please, tell me everything! I want to know all about you."

"... Eeep."




Scene 9




Working alongside the Lunar Empire was not a pleasant experience for Filthy Rich. 

Despite their shared ideologies, there was little respect shared between himself and Trixie. The showmare’s rampant narcissistic pride prevented her from giving any due credit to anypony besides her own reflection, and in turn Rich’s alpha-male business predator mindset led him to despise being bossed around by a stuck-up, domineering mare of Trixie’s caliber.

But despite his extreme distaste for his longstanding ‘business’ partner, Rich would still rather share a hundred spiteful conversations with Trixie than spend even one more moment with the mare currently occupying his time. 

Trixie may well have been the most hated mare in Metropony, but not even she could match the sheer toxicity and disgust that Filthy felt towards his wife.

Spoiled Rich was an oozing mess of wrinkles, makeup, hair products and botched surgery that had somehow wriggled its way into a dress. Her every over-enunciation twisted her lips into unnatural grimaces and pouts that were impossibly distracting to behold. Her every haughty sniff flared the tiny nostrils in her pointed, artificial nose which, when released, gave an irritating whistle that grated at the ears. Her every thought and action was performed with the intent to manipulate or belittle everypony around her, finding a sick joy in the superiority she felt this gave her.

But most of all, Filthy was disgusted because this mare had full legal access to use huge amounts of his crookedly-earned money.

Sweet Luna, he needed a replacement.

With any Luck, Fleur would accept his merciful offer and he could finally be rid of the disgusting hag he publicly described as his special somepony.

“Don’t even think about it.”

Even though the fundraiser event was already in full swing, Spoiled Rich had yet to finish ‘beautifying’ herself for her attendance and was standing in front of a mirror in one of the building’s executive bathrooms, dabbing at her eyeliner for the umpteenth consecutive minute.

Filthy stiffened his pose.

“About what dear?”

She returned her makeup to her purse, snapping it shut as she shot him a withering glare.

“You’re making the face you always do when you fantasise about getting rid of me.”

Filthy couldn’t help but smile.

“It’s an appealing fantasy.”

Spoiled rolled her eyes and trotted up to him, adjusting his tie with a critical look.

“Filthy, dearest. You know my gossip network is the only thing squashing all the rumors of your dirty dealings. You also know that I know enough about those dirty dealings to bury you and your whole company.”

Filthy sighed, momentarily reminded as to why he married this mare.

“Which is why it is currently just a fantasy. Could still happen though.”

Spoiled gave him a condescending smile and patted him on the cheek.

“No it won’t.”

Finally ready to face their guests, she left the bathroom, feeling Filthy glaring at the back of her head the entire time. 

Filthy took a deep breath to calm himself. It wouldn’t do to get too caught up in thoughts of being single while he still had the whole night ahead of him. After all, if Trixie actually pulled off her latest deranged scheme, then this would be the last time he would be forced to fake pleasantries with the foppish idiots that populated his social circle.

Stepping out into the hallway, Rich was approached by one of his security staff. Having caught his attention, Rich slicked back his mane and huffed.

“Is there a problem?”

“Sir, it’s about the mare you wanted us to bring to you. She’s waiting in your office now, sir.”

Filthy smiled. If there was one thing that could get his mind off of his current wife, it was thinking about his future one.

“Excellent. I’m sure the party can wait a little longer for me to arrive, provided Spoiled doesn't drain all the life out them before I get there.”

With renewed vigor, Rich trotted to the end of the corridor and entered the private elevator that delivered him to his office on the top floor.

The Richcorp penthouse was as opulent as infinite money could make it. The front and back walls were full length glass. The first, located behind the desk, looked out over the city in all its snowy glory. The other, opposite it, looked out across a narrow atrium going in a straight shot down the center of the building. This atrium, covering more than a hundred floors, led all the way down to the much-larger entrance foyer where even from the very top, you could still see the tiny colored specks of party-goers milling around more than two thousand hooves below you.

For the side walls of the office, Filthy had tastefully chosen to invest in a gallery of door-sized self-portraits in a variety of styles and textures. However, as egotistical as he was, these portraits served only to demonstrate that Rich’s greed dwarfed even his ego. With Rich being unwilling to keep his fortune at even the slightest distance, the most prominent feature of the office was the colossal bank vaults taking up the entire rest of the penthouse floor. Lined up six along each wall and sealed with circular steel doors seven hooves thick, each vault was magically sealed, each one keeping safe a fortune undreamt of even in the hordes of the eldest and fiercest dragons in Equestria.

Fleur was standing in front of his desk, resting one hoof on the wood and looking substantially more beautiful than any mare taken hostage and left abandoned out in a blizzard had any right to be. Her effortless poise and radiance only further served to put Rich’s wife to shame even after the five hours of preparation Spoiled had put herself through. 

She was flanked by two of his guards, but all her attention was pointed out of the rear window and into the howling storm.

Trying not to drool, Filthy put on all of his greasy charm and charisma.

“Fleur, I didn’t expect to see you so soon. I take it by your lack of death that you decided to accept my offer?”

Fleur slowly turned around. She smiled sweetly, but her eyes... Oh Sweet Luna, those chilling eyes. Filthy suppressed a shudder as he felt their hatred cut into him. This was good. Hatred, he could work with. Anything was better than the absolute apathy he saw whenever Spoiled looked at him. 

Rich cleared his throat and pushed some more.

“Well, Fleur? Yes or no?”

Fleur took a few steps towards him, her sweet smile slipping. Instead, bared teeth reflected off her frozen mane as she moved closer to the security guards. 

“...This sort of meeting requires a little privacy.”

She put her hooves on the shoulders of the guards and with a flash of magic, completely froze them in less than a second. Tossing the immobile stallions to the ground, Fleur glanced over to her prey and... Saw he was already making a break for the elevator. She rolled her eyes.

“Typical...”

Rich hadn’t even got near the elevator when a fist of ice shot up from underneath him and launched him into the air. Taking the blow right to the chest, he sailed straight over Fleur’s head and clean across the room. With a crunch of splintering wood, his massive desk cushioned his fall, snapping in two and burying him beneath a pile of his stationary and paperwork.

Coughing out through bruised ribs, Filthy felt the room temperature plummet. Barely finding his footing, he felt a strong chill on his hooves as a dusting of frost spread across the lush carpet beneath them. Yelping at the sudden shock, he reached out with his hoof to grab his office phone from the wreck of his desk and desperately began dialing for some assistance.

“Come on, Come on!”

Filthy flinched and cried out as a bolt of magic struck his hoof and froze it to the desk. Literally frozen with fear, he gaped at the sight of Fleur as she strode towards him, the magic pouring from her horn turning the office’s opulent interior into an arctic cavern of jagged icicles that reflected her chilling radiance like a thousand fractured mirrors.

Already wearing an impish smile, Fleur gave her lips a demonic promotion to ‘devilish grin’ when the greasy stallion turned in her direction and visibly paled at the sight of her.

“Hello, Filthy. I’ve considered your proposal, and I’m afraid I have to decline.”

Filthy Rich propped himself up, looking at her with desperation in his eyes.

“Now, Fleur, I know I... killed your husband, b-but we can still come to some sort of agreement! How about I let you kill my wife. Then we’ll be even!”

He flinched as she stepped up to the desk, her mere proximity enough to grow jagged ice crystals on every nearby surface.

“You disgust me. Some part of me wants to force myself to look you in the eye when I kill you, but I might have to ignore that idea.”

Fleur’s horn lit up, breaking off an icicle the size of a jousting lance and levitating it to dangle over Filthy’s head.

“Instead, I think I’ll force you to turn around, so you know what it’s like when somepony stabs you in the back...”

Rich whimpered with fear, flinging his hooves over his head as he watched the ice-tip dangle ever closer.

“Please, don’t kill me! I’ll pay you anything!”

Fleur paused, drawing back slightly.

“... Can you make an antidote for Changeling venom?”

There was a moment of hesitation.

“... Yes! Yes, I can buy anything just please let me go!”

Fleur growled and lowered the room temperature even more.

“You’re lying...”

Rearing up, she drew back the spear to strike. 

Fleur flinched as a well-placed concussive grenade detonated right above her head, shattering the lance and leaving a ringing in her ears that made it difficult to hear the voice of the interloper that had followed her all the way from the party.

Stomping a hoof on the frosted carpet, Sweets locked onto Fleur with a no-nonsense glare.

"Alright you nutjob, I swear, if you make me say ‘freeze’, I’ll snap that frozen mane right off your head.”

Fleur spun around, blinking in shock at the pony standing undaunted among the jagged ice crystals, Sweets’ defiant posture and gritted teeth seeming to make her glow with righteous energy. Ears folding back, Fleur snarled in utter disbelief.

“You?! Why are you defending him?! Don’t you know what he’s done?!”

“No, but whatever this is about, I won’t let it end with murder. This ends right now, so power down your... Icy-ness, and let the stallion go.”

"... And if I don't?"

Sweets reached back into her saddlebags and grabbed another hooful of grenades.

"You'll wish you did."

Fleur closed her eyes and sighed. 

“If that’s the way it has to be... Then fine!”

Fleur’s horn flashed as she poured a massive burst of her power into the floor. Immediately, the frost-buried carpet began to sprout sharpened icicles, each intent on piercing flesh as the room instantly transformed into a bed of deadly spikes

Within the blink of an eye, a hundred of these pin-sharp ice-spikes stabbed out from the ground seeking to impale Sweets right where she stood. But, despite the ferocity of Fleur's magic, Bon-Bon used her incredible speed to avoid the treacherous floor entirely and instead leapt high into the air, flipping over and gracefully landing on top of one of the vault doors lining the room. 

Sweets smirked, feeling a sudden rush of Lyra’s influence flowing through her.

“Sorry, but you’ll never catch me with any plan that has such a huge floor in it.”

Fleur was angry enough that the terrible pun didn’t even register.

“You idiot! If you had the slightest idea what was going on here, you would be helping me!”

Readying for another attack, Fleur lit her horn again, this time wrapping her aura around every single icicle in the room and directing them to face point-first at Sweets. Filled with rage and desperation, Fleur snarled, yelling as she flung every single one of them at her at once.

“Stop interfering! I don’t want to have to hurt you!”

Intent on not becoming a pin cushion, Bon-Bon threw her grenades in front of her, covering her eyes and face as the chain-explosion obliterated the incoming spikes. With a small flip, she leapt off the metal ledge, changing course to dive towards Fleur with one hoof outstretched.

“Do me a favor and hold on to that feeling, it’ll make it much easier to take you down!”

Panicking, Fleur snapped her head upwards, once more calling on her power to aid her. Rising from the floor and affixing itself to the ceiling, she crafted a thick, protective ice wall between her and Sweets, seeking to buy some precious time.

A second later, she discovered the futility of her effort. Already propelling herself through the air, Sweets drew back her hoof and swung a punch at the icy wall.  Filled with what Lyra would describe as ‘righteous justice’, and Vinyl would describe as ‘freakishly unfair empowerment’, Sweets effortlessly smashed a hole straight through the blockage and continued right on course to her foe. Seeing Sweets not even slow down, Fleur desperately leapt to the side, feeling a ballistic hoof swing past her and take off a chunk of her frozen mane. 

The second her punch failed to land, Bon-Bon spun round and took a second swing, hoof blurring the air as it streaked towards her opponent.

“If you really don’t want to fight, then stand down!”

Despite Bon-Bon's greater speed and strength, Fleur saw the attack coming and managed to catch the punch with her own hoof, straining at the power behind the blow. But that was fine, as the block was not intended for her to just to defend herself. 

The instant Sweets’ hoof touched her own, Fleur sprung her trap, willing a thick layer of ice to begin spreading up Bon-Bon's leg. Feeling her new magic flowing through her, Fleur smiled as watched her power not-so-slowly freeze Sweets completely solid.

“I can’t allow you to stop me. You’ve been stuck treating the symptoms of this disease, and allowed their infection to spread! This storm of vengeance will cure my city once and for all, and even if I have to protect you from yourselves, I will see this treatment through to the end!”

Sweets grit her teeth at the cold sting of the spreading ice. She snorted, the hot air misting in the ice-chilled room. Then, looking Fleur dead in the eyes, she flexed her entire foreleg and shattered the ice in a burst of impossible strength. Almost in slow motion the look of shock on Fleur's picture-perfect face turned to pain as Sweets pivoted and kicked her in the gut. Hard.

Filthy Rich whimpered as the ice queen smashed into the remains of his colossal desk hard enough to turn it to kindling.

Flicking flecks of ice off her shoulder, Sweets glared at the winded model, seeing her glamorous ice-dress laying around her in a dozen fractured shards.

“Keep this up, and you’re the one who’ll need treatment, lady.”

Fleur laid on her side among the splinters, wondering what could have gone wrong. Tentatively, she reached a hoof up to touch at the broken chunk of her mane, feeling how Sweets' first attack had smashed a hole through which her left eye could now be seen. Growling, she glanced over to Sweets as the other mare settled into a readied battle stance, extending a hoof to beckon her with a 'bring it on' wave.

Feeling her powers churn inside of her, Fleur rose from the wreckage and prepared to try her luck a second time. Nursing her bruised chest, Fleur looked Sweets in the eye and let her face soften.

“I’m very appreciative for everything you’ve done for our city. You’re a good pony, and because of that, I truly am sorry.”

Sweets snorted distrustfully.

“What, for trying to kill somepony?”

Fleur’s horn flashed as she turned a complete 180 and fired another blast of sheer arctic energy.

“No, for letting them kill you.”

Ignoring Sweets entirely, Fleur focused the full force of her magic on the wall of glass behind her. Spirals of frost quickly spread over the triple-thick pane, heralding the growth of a vast network of cracks and fissures. Eventually, it culminated in an implosion of shattered fragments as the massive window collapsed, exposing the office to the chill night air. 

This breaking of glass served as a signal, calling out to the storm. Before Sweets could take a single step, the signal was answered and the storm invited itself in, three living blizzards shooting in through the opened window and slamming into Sweets like a tidal wave of air and compacted snow.

Bon-Bon cried out as the force of the wind and snow blasted her off her hooves. There was no defence as the Windegos passed straight through her, and in so doing battered both her body and soul with a dense hailstorm of icy blades. Caught up in the maelstrom of their swirling bodies, Bon-Bon was swept away in the current, helplessly tumbling like a leaf caught in a hurricane before being bodily flung through the other window on the opposite side of the office.

Bon-Bon bit back a curse as she was hurled out into open air, the towering atrium now leaving her with more than a hundred floors straight down onto the unforgiving snobs and politicians below. Even as she began to fall, the Windegos didn’t let her go, relentlessly pursuing her in a vertical chase. Tumbling end-over-end, it almost felt as if they were playing hoofball with her helpless body as they rammed her, battering her back and forth with the ice and snow that made up their frigid spectral forms.

By the time Bon-Bon’s indoor skydiving adventure had reached the halfway point, she was starting to think her conversations with Trenderhoof were actually not the most unpleasant and nauseating experience to happen to her that night. Disoriented in the extreme, Bon-Bon reached into her saddlebags, entrusting her life once more to her gadgets and the ponies that supplied them.

Before the storm had overtaken Metropony, Vinyl had been intending for her to field-test her new magic-based flashbang grenades against a live opponent that wasn’t just another one of ExTech’s incredibly unfortunate scientists. Although this wasn’t the ideal situation for such a test, she didn’t have time to worry about the consequences, what with the ground getting closer with every passing moment.

Unable to throw the device thanks to the winds tossing her about, Bon-Bon instead just twisted the cap on the hoof-held device and then held it at foreleg’s-length, hoping that a grenade comprising of purely stunning magic wouldn’t actually blow her hoof off when used in this manner.

Luckily, it didn’t.

If there was two things that Vinyl Scratch’s magical talents were good for, those things would be inducing blindness and deafness. Hopped up on the DJ’s signature blue spellcraft, the flashbang successfully conferred an entire nightclub’s worth of light and sound into one ripple of arcane force. Crowding as close to Bon-Bon as they were, the Windegos had no defense as their mostly magical bodies were blasted away by the pulse.

Cringing and shaking her head at the ringing in her ears, Bon-Bon still managed to hear the confused whinnying of the stunned Windegos, their attacks forced to halt and their ethereal outlines blurred from the shock of the magic that had just assaulted them.

Seeing her opportunity, Bon-Bon stuck out her legs and righted herself in the air. Facing upwards, she pulled out her grapple launcher and fired it into one of the floors lining the atrium. The rope snapped taut, nearly yanking Bon-Bon’s legs from their sockets as she bounced to a stop, dangling sixty floors from the ground.

Still reeling from her recent bouts of pain, Bon-Bon looked down at the stunned Windegos as their momentum carried them down into the crowded foyer. Gritting her teeth at the burn in her aching shoulders, she begged her body to recover faster, hearing the first cries of horror that signaled the fundraiser had just come to a very abrupt end...




Scene 10




In the time since Bon-Bon had left, Lyra’s evening had only been getting worse. Leaving the snack table behind, she had taken a circuitous route of ducking and diving through the throngs of party guests as she steadily made her way towards the back of the room. While her choice of navigation was in some part motivated by thoughts of meeting Bon-Bon upon her return, it was also largely motivated by thoughts of escaping from Trenderhoof, who, as it turns out, was just skinny enough to be just as good at weaving through crowds as she was.

Finally reaching the rear wall, Lyra leaned against it and took the opportunity to blow her nose once more. By the time she looked up from her tissue, Trend had already caught up with her. Grinning wildly, he eagerly leaned in, seemingly incapable of taking hints even when they were being launched at him from a canon.

“You know, Lyra... I’ve met a lot of musicians, but I simply have to know your thoughts... What does the lyre mean to Ly-ra?”

Lyra squinted at him in horrified confusion.

“What does the what mean to the what?... Never mind, I don’t care. Just please leave me alone, I gotta- gotta-a... ATCHOOOO!”

Trend didn't even flinch as his stupid glasses were completely covered in sneeze goo. Instead he tilted his head and gazed lovingly into her eyes.

“You even look good when you’re sneezing... Who looks good when they’re sneezing?”

“... Seriously?”

Seeing no light at the end of the tunnel, Lyra urgently looked around for a distraction.

It was at that point that she quite gratefully received one, as there are few things more disruptive than three Windegos dive-bombing a very crowded room full of ponies. One after another they plummeted down the middle of the atrium at a speed unbecoming of a creature mostly made of air, snowflakes trailing behind them like confetti following a parade. Still stunned from Vinyl’s magic, they didn’t even slow down when they reached ground level, instead just battering against the marble floor and exploding out into more than a dozen conflicting winds, flinging ponies this way and that as they raged across the foyer.

Just as panic and confusion was beginning to spread, the winds spiraled back to the center of the room and reformed into their horse-like shapes. Rearing back, their empty eyes flashed and they let out a howling whinny, feeding the fear and panic already inspired by their disruptive arrival.

Lyra dodged to one side as screaming ponies began fleeing the foyer from every available exit, a mostly incoherent noise that only underscored the surprising clarity of the Mayor screaming ‘Please no, not again!’ somewhere amidst the chaos.

Unconcerned with the mad rush of ponies streaming past, Trend gaped up at the ghostly creature in awe.

“Are those... Windegos? I’ve always wanted to interview one! Who knows what kind of insight it could offer us into the nature of our very own selves...”

Huffing, Lyra tore off her dress and threw it in his face.

“Yeah, great. Hold this, Lover Boy.”

With that she slipped into the crowd and dashed off to retrieve her gear from the side room she had stashed it in earlier.

Sixty floors up, Bon-Bon looked down at the fleeing crowd and cursed.

“Widegos, here? How the hay does a supermodel become friends with a Windego?”

Clinging onto her grapple-rope, Bon-Bon curled her legs up as a beam of magic traced the circumference of the atrium, creating a spiraling-ice-slide all the way down to the bottom floor. A second later, Fleur slid past her, floating a sobbing Filthy Rich behind her as she used the inverse helter-skelter to make her escape.

Frowning, Bon-Bon gave a snort of determination before disengaging her grapple hook and dropping down onto the slide, posture low and legs wide as gravity took her down into a spiraling pursuit.

“You’re not getting away on my watch...”

As her speed picked up, Bon-Bon leaned into the curve, gaining on the kidnapper. With all her speed, it didn’t take long for Fleur to notice her. Cursing, Fleur turned around and started sliding backwards, aiming at Bon-Bon and firing beam after beam from her horn. 

Stuck on the spiral slide, the two mares circled around and around each other, like water sucked down a drain. As they did, Bon-Bon would duck and dodge each consecutive attack, each flash spawning another eruption of ice crystals from where they struck the atrium walls. 

She first pivoted to slide sideways, feeling the chill as Fleur’s magic brushed past her ear. Then she converted her twist into a jump, leaping over impalement-eager icicles appearing in her path. Then she dropped down to slide on her belly like a penguin, hooves slung backwards to streamline her speed as she shot under another aggressively-tracking cluster of spikes.

Fleur growled in frustration as she finally used her initiative and just aimed down at her hooves to destroy the ice immediately behind her as she descended.

“This isn’t your fight! Just leave me alone!”

Still sliding belly-first, Bon-Bon just fell right off the now-abrupt slide cut off point, tumbling end over end before whipping out her grappling hook and shooting it into the air. Luckily, her freefall had finally taken her out of the ludicrously long atrium and back down to the grand foyer, meaning that she now had a ceiling with which to grab onto. 

Keeping her hind legs outstretched, Bon-Bon let the rope take her in a wide swing that intercepted Fleur just as she reached the end point of her slide. Unable to do anything to halt her momentum, Fleur could do little else but to brace herself as Bon-Bon’s hooves slammed into her left flank and booted her clean across the room.

Bon-Bon landed on all four hooves, still poised and ready for action. Fleur, winded from the kick, just sailed heedlessly through the air... right up until her Windego companions dived into her flight path and caught her, drifting her safely to the ground on a gentle gust of wind.

Fleur laid on the marble tiles, her hind leg twitching in protest at the harsh beating to her slender limb. Immediately, her eyes snapped up at the sound of hoofsteps, locking on to the distressed pony making a break for the door. Her unwilling passenger had been knocked free from her telekinesis when Sweets had kicked her, and after spotting a means of escape, Filthy Rich was galloping as fast as he could for the double doors and their distant promise of salvation.

He had almost made it, but froze to an immediate halt when a stream of magic iced his hooves to the tiled floor and held his legs firmly in place.

With a calm expression, Fleur turned back to Bon-Bon, the Windegos hovering over her shoulder mimicking her as they fixed the meddlesome superhero with a baleful glare.

“If you’re really going to do this, Sweets, you should know just who it is you’re fighting for. This stallion poisoned my husband and used me as a hostage to force him to sign over everything we had! He’s been using homeless ponies as cash cows for his illicit business, business which involves him working for the Lunar Empire! He’s helping to spread the disease that is destroying our city! You of all ponies should be helping me!”

Bon-Bon flinched and looked over at Filthy Rich in shock. Squirming, the stallion cried out with such desperation it was as if he believed that his tears could melt the ice holding him in place.

“She’s lying! She’s insane! She’s anything! Just please get her away from me!”

Bon-Bon looked down, eyes flicking back and forth as she thought. Soon enough, she found she was getting angry.

“Whatever he’s done doesn’t justify what you’re doing now. You’ve endangered innocent ponies, plotted murder, you’re working with monsters...” 

Taking a deep breath, she tried to use a softer tone.

“I assure you that we’ll investigate your claims, but we can’t abide wanton murder. Turn yourself in before this gets any worse.”

Fleur grimaced, thinking about what would happen to her mansion full of living ice sculptures. She knew that if she gave up, everything she had done for them would be wasted, and they would be once again doomed to die.

“No... No, I made a promise to take care of them... This city is my responsibility and I won’t just stand by-”

“Wait! Wait for me!”

Lyra ran into the room, having finally found a room not filled with terrified fleeing ponies that she could use to change into her costume.

“I’m here! I’m here!... Whew...”

Lyra perked up and obliviously glanced around.

“... What’d I miss?”

Fleur’s eye twitched at the presence of another interloper. Looking around for an idea, she spotted the immaculately formed ice sculpture over on the hors d'oeuvres table. With desperate focus, Fleur’s power surged out of her and streamed across the room towards the elegant statue. In an instant, the faux Celestia glowed with an unearthly light... forbidden come-to-life magic glittering off of its crystal facets as it transformed. 

Empowered by the will of the Windego’s chosen, the substitute monarch was reborn as a beautiful and deadly ice golem. Filled with new life and purpose, the former centerpiece leapt off of the table and landed by Lyra’s side, looming over her while also intimidating her into submission with a chilling expression of stern, royal disapproval.

Lyra’s ears folded down as she was suddenly reminded of every pissed-off authority figure in her long life of pissed-off authority figures.

“Oh hey... Princess... Ha, ha... Wow, you’re a lot scarier than you look on the stamps.”

That was when Cel-ice-tia clobbered her to the ground with a super-sized ice-hoof to the face.

Trusting Lyra to deal with the new threat, Bon-Bon dashed towards Fleur, leaping around the ice walls and ice beams thrown in her path as she zig-zaged her way towards the vengeful supermodel. But, as it turned out, Fleur didn't have to do a single thing as the three Windegos hovering by her side all 'inhaled' at the same time, puffing out their cheeks and blowing to create a single, unified hurricane that brought Sweets' advance to a stumbling halt.

Eyes streaming from the battering wind, Bon-Bon squared her hooves and refused to be moved. Like many earth ponies, she had a knack for standing strong when pressured and, hoof by determined hoof, she crawled towards the spectres, intent on fighting their champion.

Seeing Sweets' stubbornness firsthoof, Fleur snorted.

“Oh no. We’re not doing this again. This time, I’ll make sure you don’t get anywhere near me.”

With utter grace and poise, Fleur dramatically tapped her hoof on the ground, a wave of ice spreading from her touch to turn the tiles in front of her into a treacherous ice rink. Bon-Bon, strong as she was, could do nothing when her friction disappeared out from under her, and the intense howling winds sent her flying back, tumbling and sliding as far away from Fleur as possible.

On the other side of the foyer, Lyra was having just as poor luck. Her body being whipped violently through the air, Lyra desperately clung onto Celicetia’s regal horn and tried not to be knocked off. Abandoning all pretence of royal decorum, the Golem Princess bucked and swung like a rodeo pony, trying to batter Lyra with her giant wings as she flailed the tiny pony around around like she was a horn-mounted flag at a particularly patriotic festival.

“Whoah! If this is about me using the end of your tail as ice for my drink, then I can only apologise... Ooof!”

Lyra’s midair thrashing was brought to a sudden halt when one of Fleur’s Windegos broke off from the herd to lend the Golem some assistance. Head-ramming into her at the peak of her swing, the Windego sent Lyra sprawling along the floor before battering her with a barrage of speedy fly-bys that kept her dizzy and off-balance. 

Grunting with the effort, Lyra fought back, only to find her hooves literally punching nothing but air as the spirit beast split and reformed around her, never once allowing her a solid enough surface to attack.

“Just... Why you... Hey, get back here... Oh, that’s it!”

As the Windego spun around to face her, she whipped out her grapple-gun, aiming it at the ghostly creature with the intention of yanking it towards her before it could break apart again. Instead, the Windego stopped in place and blew out through puffed-up cheeks. 

The force of its breath whipped up a gale so strong that it stopped the grappling hook mid-flight and then sent it soaring back to strike Lyra on the side of the head.

“Aoww! Come on! That’s just unfair!”

Dropping her grappling hook, Lyra squeaked involuntarily as her body was lifted up and crushed from behind by the sculpted Princess, hind legs kicking effectually as Celicetia squeezed the breath from her in a devastating bear hug.

Still skittering on the floor, Bon-Bon struggled to recover from her spin-out as she glared across the room at Fleur and her guardian spirits. 

“Hey, I’m not through with you yet!”

Still sliding on the icy floor, Bon-Bon was forced to dive for cover as Fleur began to take shots at her, firing her ice beams wildly across the hall.

Intent on sniping Sweets from afar, Fleur cocked up an ear as one of her Windegos drifted down to float by her side. Fluttering in place with concerned, glowing eyes, the ice spirit began whispering to her.

“     ...Delay
...Haste
Retreat...
Hurry....
Hurry...”

‘Tsk’-ing at the hold up, Fleur waved the spirit away and thought over its brisk advice.

“You’re right, this is taking too long... If Filthy managed to contact the Empire, this place could be swarming in Lunatrons at any moment...”

Although Fleur doubted the belligerent robots could do much against the gathering of heroes and monstrosities already attending the party, if Rich were to escape in the confusion... then the devious sod could easily go into hiding and never be found. Knowing full well she couldn't risk letting him slink from her clutches, she decided it was time to make a retreat.

Looking up at the two Windegos floating above her, she barked out her orders.

“One of you, with me. The rest of you, delay them for as long as you can.”

Leaving only a nod of understanding, one of the Windegos reared back and then shot across the room, blowing out another blustery wind to chase Sweets from her hiding spot as it pelted her with a stream of painful hailstones.

Fleur dashed to the door, another Windego snaking at her heels as she magically lifted the frozen tiles holding the severely sniveling Rich. The tyrannous tycoon now had even more reason to weep, thanks to Fleur dangling him upside-down by his ice-encrusted hooves.

Bursting open the double doors, Fleur leapt out into the city streets, bounding onto a nearby snowbank with her prisoner by her side. Gathering her power, she leapt forwards. Feeling its presence besides her, the Windego moved in unison with Fleur, combining its force with her own as the snow moved at their command. Spurred into motion by their magic, the snowbank lifted from the tarmac and powered forwards, carrying Fleur along atop it like a surfer riding a surging wave. 

The snow wave knocked cars and streetlights aside as it passed, sliding past buildings filled with sleeping ponies as it took her and her hostage on a high-speed getaway. Swerving down street after street, the mare and her monster plotted a course for the city’s suburbs and disappeared from sight.

Still shielding her face from an onslaught of hailstones, Bon-Bon saw Fleur's departure and called out to Lyra.

"We can't let her get away! We gotta get after her!"

Lyra, now turning blue from the crush of her various organs, croaked out a sarcastic reply.

"Glad to know you have your priorities straight... Also, I'm still dying. Thought you should know."

Even though she was struggling to stay standing against the force of the wind, Bon-Bon rolled her eyes. Reaching a hoof into her saddlebags, Bon-Bon pulled out a cluster of grenades. In an almost casual fashion, she lightly tossed them into the air where the howling winds of the Windego's own blizzard took its hold and flung them across the room.

Still attempting to externally restructure Lyra’s innards, Celicetia was caught completely unprepared for the explosion that blew off her wings and tail. Reeling from the blast going off right behind her, the Golem snarled as Lyra used the distraction to slide free from her grasp and dance away.

“Wow. I guess you’re not a princess any more, huh?” 

Very upset about being made into a shaved unicorn, Celicetia dived forwards, swinging her neck around as she tried to impale Lyra on her spear-sized horn. Although Celicetia’s thrashing proved that the golem was very good at impaling everything that wasn’t Lyra, her bloodlust was finally denied when Lyra grabbed hold of the humongous head-spike and redirected her aim to instead stab into one of the cracks made in the floor by their battle.

With the Golem now stuck in place, Lyra opened up on her, pounding on her head as she knocked chips and chunks off her formerly beautiful face. With a final crack, the force of Lyra’s pummeling resulted in Celicetia's horn snapping off at the base. Now no longer an effigy to their reigning monarch, the Golem's mutilated visage now more greatly resembled Lyra's old chemistry teacher, and just like that very same unfortunate stallion, the Golem reared back and gave a chilling wail of anguish at the torment Lyra had put it through.

Without hesitation, Lyra grabbed the spear-like horn from the ground and spun it between two hooves. Standing up on her hind legs, Lyra pulled the icicle back over her head and, with great flair, stabbed it into the chest of the rearing princess. 

Holding the horn in place above her, Lyra chuckled and prepared the cheesiest line she could think of.

“Hey, Sweets... Would you like to ‘pick’ this one off for me?”

Bon-Bon groaned.

“... You’re the worst.”

Honed by training to recognise each other’s openings, Bon-Bon lept into action before the moment was lost. Using the Windego’s gale force winds to her advantage once again, she turned and leapt towards Lyra. 

Spinning in midair, Bon-Bon used the boost in momentum to fly across the room, zeroing in on the golem’s weak spot as she stuck out her hoof and performed a gale-assisted flying leap-kick right into the broken end of the horn.

Cracks splintered out from the point of impact, spreading like veins across the Golem's surface. The broken horn had penetrated straight through into the core of the sculpture, filling its complex shape with fractures and fissures. Then, in the instant holding its shape became too much to handle, the short-lived construct shattered into ice cubes and crumbled to the floor.

Lyra and Bon-Bon rallied themselves, seeing that the two remaining Windegos had not taken this act of regicide lightly.

"There's no time to try and fight them. We've gotta go after the nutjob before she does something to her hostage."

"Somehow, I get the feeling that they don't agree with that idea."

"Then we'd better go really fast."

Ducking past the angry Windegos, Lyra and Bon-Bon dashed out of the Richcorp building and slid into the road. Catching her breath, Lyra looked to her partner for advice.

"Which way?"

Bon-Bon pointed in the direction of the trashed streetlights and flipped cars.

"Follow the trail of destruction."

So then, with a pair of enraged Windegos hot on their heels, Harpflank and Sweets dashed out into the winter storm.




Scene 11




Even before Harpflank and Sweets had contacted them, things had already been tense in the M.A.R.E control room. With the agency still operating on a beleaguered skeleton crew, Vinyl and Octavia were the only ones still entrenched at their workstations. Vinyl, broken off from her paranoid theorisation, was continuing to keep tabs on their agents progress through the storm.

Sitting adjacent to her, and trying her hardest not to let frustration consume her, was Octavia. Faced with a challenge worthy of her skill, she was busy tapping away at her keyboard, deeply invested in the task before her.

A while ago, their systems had begun picking up a M.A.R.E. distress signal, but with interference from the storm, the act of locking down its coordinates had led Octavia on quite a merry chase. However, despite the weather fueling her already short temper, she was still Octavia and via through all manner of cheatastical technowizardry she had managed to boost the signal to a level where she could reliably track and identify the sender. 

Vinyl, who was still cocooned in her multi-layers of blankets, glanced away from the holo-screen to shakily wipe a spot of condensation off of her shades. Having listened to Lyra and Bon-Bon’s field report, she rubbed her hooves over her legs and shivered as she gave a sceptical response.

“Windegos, really? I thought those things were just a Hearth's Warming legend, and now you’re saying that they’re the ones who have been freezing us, and they kidnapped the host of the party?” 

Bon-Bon’s voice spluttered out of the speakers, distorted by static.

“Not them ~pzzd~ically. There was a~ppfftz~nicorn, it seemed like they were using~ffzzz~ her, feeding her anger. We’re trying to follow her, but ~rrffft~ storm is slowing us down!”

“Alright I’ll look into it. Be careful out there.”

Vinyl muted the audio feed, leaning back in her chair as she brought up files on the famed mythological beasts.

“... They feed off of, cause and are empowered by the hatred and conflict between ponies. Potential origins unknown...”

She hummed in contemplation.

“It would explain an awful lot... Particularly why everypony has been so short tempered recently.”

Octavia grit her teeth as Vinyl shot a not-so-subtle glance in her direction. In return she countered with a not-so-quiet mutter that Vinyl pretended not to hear.

“...Or maybe it’s just because you’re insufferable.”

After that little exchange, the two ponies were so preoccupied with not looking at each other that Octavia almost didn’t notice when her frantic typing finally reached fruition. Her eyes widened as she realised what the computer was telling her.

“Oh? Oh! This signal... It’s Redheart’s beacon, and she’s in some sort of semi-abandoned manor house on the edge of the city!”

Vinyl glided her chair over to Tavi’s workspace.

“What? What’s she doing there? And what happened to her?”

Sipping her hot cocoa, Octavia let her snow-driven anger out through harshly spoken sarcasm.

“Oh well Vinyl, I’m sure that I can deduce all that from just staring at this blinking dot. Oh wait, I should let you do it, seeing as how you’re the expert on pointless dot-staring in this operation.”

However, contrary to Octavia’s intentions, Vinyl complied with the request, staring harder and harder as something clicked into place in her mind. Gasping, she dropped her blankets and leapt from her chair.

“OH, Oh that’s it! That’s what’s fishy! I get it now!”

Octavia raised a hoof to her brow as Vinyl danced around in excitement.

“Oh joy. Vinyl has an idea. I’m certain this will be incredibly relevant to the current situation and will prove instrumental in rescuing poor, poor Redheart from villainous clutches.”

Vinyl paused her dance, pursing her lips in indignation. 

“Hey, I’ll have you know that I have had many instances of inspired thinking during my lifetime!”

Octavia leaned forward, a smirk creeping around the edges of her cocoa mug.

“Oh really? When was this, sometime before you met me?”

“Yes!... I mean, no!... Oh, just look!”

Leaning over Octavia’s shoulder, she held out a hoof to the holo-console, grabbing hold of the map with the distress signal and pulling it over to the one with the two other mystery signals. Octavia's eyes widened as the maps aligned, revealing the new signal to be located on the third point of a perfect triangle cutting right through the heart of Metropony city.

Setting her mug down, Octavia let her frustration seep out of her as she fell into a state of deep concern.

“If Redheart’s location is the latest site of the Empire’s machinations, then they could well be setting up systems similar to whatever they have in these two other locations right now... But what could it be for?”

Vinyl chewed her lip, putting the pieces together in her mind.

“Remember what Lyra and BB found out at the party? If the storm is being made by Windegos, then that means it’s powered by negative emotions... In other words, dark magic. If Trixie were to set up a Tri-nodular arcane matrix across these three, equally distributed locations, then the Empire would be able to take control over the storm! They could easily use it to freeze over any city in Equestria before they even had a chance to realise they were under attack!”

Octavia shuddered, though this time it wasn’t from the cold.

“-And the storm would only grow more powerful with each sob of despair it causes... We need to warn everypony right away.”

“Ok, I’ll tell the Commander, you keep these two in the loop.”

Nodding, Octavia re-opened the communication channel, speaking loudly to cut through the static.

“Harpflank, Sweets, we think the situation has just gotten more dire...”




Scene 12




A single snowplow trudged its way along the submerged street of a Metropony suburb. An endless veil of greys smattered against its windshield, concealing the lone driver as he languished in the futility of combating the relentless snow.

This section of the city was his territory to clear, a constant back and forth, back and forth along the same roads and byways for days on end. A wave of snow was kicked up, piling onto the pavements as the plow trundled past. Unfortunately for this driver, something else was about to clear this snow... And would do so with much more force than could be summoned up by his mere machine.

All of a sudden, a snow shockwave pulsed down the quiet street, bulging the idle snowbanks into a twenty-foot frosty tidal surge that rocked the helpless plow off of its treadwheels as it rocketed past. There was no obstacle or countermeasure that could slow the oncoming wintery wall, simply gliding over or busting through anything in its path.

The wave only broke when it reached the broken gates of a worn-out mansion, disintegrating into a gentle slope as it deposited a frost-speckled mare and her captive to a skidding halt on the frozen flagstones. Wincing at the drain on her magic, Fleur reached out to the Windego floating alongside her. The spectral beast snorted in response and leaned into her, its chilling touch serving to ease the drain on her powers.

Having ridden the snowy surf all the way home, Fleur felt the need to check whether or not her formerly struggling passenger was still alive. It seemed that having his face dragged through the snow while hung upside down had left him shivering, disoriented, in pain, exhausted and generally uncomfortable. Excellent.

“I hadn’t counted on Harpflank and Sweets attempting to defend you, but I still came away with what I wanted.”

She rolled her eyes and groaned.

“It’s just really poor luck I had to make a few more enemies in the process...”

It was unlikely they could track her through the storm, and her other Windegos would slow them long enough for her to be long gone by the time they discover the location of her home... But it was just a matter of time until she was found, now that both the Empire and those heroes would be coming after her.

Her sole remaining companion nickered at her side, circling over their captive as it spawned yet another flurry of snow. By this point, Filthy Rich was completely white and going into the first stages of hypothermia. Fleur’s face darkened as she realized what this reminded her of. This shivering wreck was in the same condition that she and Fancy were in earlier that morning when this piece of filth had left them to die.

Trotting up to the front doors, Fleur unceremoniously dumped the squealing Rich on the steps of her mansion, gracing him with a hateful glare.

“I fought so hard to try and stay here, in the place I loved and was loved in return... But it looks like I’m going to have to leave it behind regardless. So I guess you won, Filthy. You threw me out!... Savor that for however long you have left.”

His eyes widened in terror as Fleur leaned over him sadistically. As she drew near, her icy mane tickled over the fur through his torn tuxedo and her voice took on a seductive tone.

“Yes, that’s right... You have me all to yourself, just like you wanted...”

She grabbed his ear in her magic and twisted it before whispering through gritted teeth. With every hushed word, the icy spikes of his restraints bit deeper into his skin.

“Now that we’re alone, I can finally wipe the world clean of your filth!"

Fleur drew her hoof back to stomp on his face, only to stop as her Windego swiftly breezed in front of her.

      “Wait...
Has not...
... Suffered.”

Fleur’s face soured, pursing her lips in distaste.

“You want me to wait? When I have him right here in front of me?”

Floating close, the spirit insisted.

    “Must....
... Suffer.”

“I’ve accepted that he needs to die, but I’m not a sadist. Nothing can be gained by further torture.”

For a moment, the Windego almost looked sheepish.

      “... Hungry.”

Fleur glared with mild disgust.

“You want to feed off his pain.”

Fleur sighed.

“I guess that’s the price for all of your help... Fine. We’ll let the cold finish him.”

The Windego nodded. Having assured its meal, the spirit lost interest and drifted away, idly dancing over the mansion’s steps. Grinding her teeth, Fleur pushed open the double doors and dragged Filthy inside. Windegos were detestable creatures, but they had pitied her and aided her when nopony else could. Now Fleur needed to repay that debt despite their vile intentions.

“Sweets was right... I have allied myself with monsters.”

Closing the doors behind her, Fleur stopped and looked into the frozen face of one her ponies. Her name was Springwater. She was a middle-aged pegasus. She had lost two foals and come into their care after five years on the streets. She had a nasty lung infection that Redheart hadn’t been able to ‘borrow’ enough antibiotics to fix.

Now she was locked into an eternal rictus of fear... Afraid of a pony she had come to trust. 

Fleur looked away.

“But by this point... Judging them for that would be hypocritical.”

Fleur had not been idle while she had been waiting for Rich to begin his fundraiser. She had quite carefully moved every single one of her tenants back inside the building. Much like it had just the day before, the entrance hall was filled with the ponies and other creatures that Fleur had welcomed into her home. The only difference being that Fleur’s reception was now much colder.

There was not a single spark of life or motion in the entire room. Just endless clusters of silent statues, glittering in her hornlight and partially buried under the mounds of snow brought inside by her Windegos.

Rich whimpered as they weaved through the maze of frozen creatures, his fear causing him to become almost as petrified as they were.

Fleur paused, feeling a stab of sadness as she looked from face to face. Springwater was not the only one who forced her to avert her gaze. Many of the glacial statues had frozen in mid-shock, preserved before they had the chance to realize their fate. Others were not so swiftly saved... They stood flinching, locked in silent scream as the ice had taken them where they stood.

It was not how she would have wanted to immortalize them, but she had been left with no other choice. They had been entrusted to her care, relying on her when the whole world had abandoned them. They were diseased and dying, and when she had taken them in, she had taken responsibility to keep them alive. 

They were her residents. They were her friends. They were her family. They were hers, and she would not allow them to die. 

As Fleur neared the end of the hall, her eyes naturally drifted to the centerpiece of her gallery. Still laid behind the kitchen counter was Redheart, her pose the very picture of defiance. And there... Placed just next to her, was Fancy Pants... the very picture of suffering.

Whatever remaining guilt Fleur still held dried up. She threw Filthy Rich at the base of the counter and glared at him.

“This is your last stop, Filthy. I hope your money misses you when you’re gone.”

Tearing her eyes from her prisoner, Fleur turned her mind to her next course of action. With Harpflank and Sweets still looking for her, she couldn’t very well stay here, and vanishing into the underground was equally foolish considering that she had made herself an enemy of the Lunar Empire.

Biting back a curse, Fleur rubbed a hoof to her head in agitation.

“What the hay do I do now...?”

On sheer principle, Fleur couldn’t go anywhere without taking her ‘family’ with her. They were the only valuable possessions she had left and the thought of leaving them unguarded where they could be damaged or worse- thawed out, was of course, beyond any consideration. This left her with a problem. Even with her new powers, she would have a hard time transporting this many statues without being noticed... and even then, she would need to find another space large enough to hold them all.

Fleur groaned at the conundrum. She had lost many of her ‘friends’ and contacts at around the same time she had lost her fame and fortune. There was nowhere she could reliably hide, and nopony would be willing to help her. 

Just as she was beginning to contemplate simply making a permanent residence buried in the snow, she was roused from her thoughts by a confused snuffling sound. Looking up, she saw her Windego had finally followed her inside and was currently floating around in circles in directionless agitation. 

“What is it? Do you sense something?”

The Windego had just turned around, perhaps to whisper more words into her ear, when suddenly several beams of magic lanced out and struck the spirit, ensnaring it around the head, neck and body in about five different places. Writhing, the Windego cried out in frustration as the snares dragged it to the floor. The spirit’s outline began to blur as it tried numerous times to escape by dispersing into air and snow, but every time it tried, the magical bands would contract and force it to retain its shape.

Before Fleur had a chance to figure out the source of this attack, a cruel voice cut across the frozen hall.

“You know... You had almost gotten Trixie worried when your interference managed to get M.A.R.E’s attention.” 

As horrified as she was at the treatment of her ally, Fleur still jumped at the voice, twisting upwards to glare at the top of the grand staircase. There, flanked by a pair of stoic Lunatrons, was a pony she had heard of only in the frantic tones of startled newscasters and the hushed voices of the uprooted ponies sheltering under her roof. The scourge of Metropony, Trixie Lulamoon.

Raising a hoof to her lips, Trixie seemed to chuckle at the absurdity of a pony such as her ever having cause to feel worried.

“Yet instead it seems that Rich’s botched plans have served the Empire better than we could have possibly have hoped. Not only have you kept Harpflank and Sweets occupied, but you have brought Trixie the one thing she needed to complete her master plan!”

On the stairs below her, a team of specialised arcane-containment Lunatrons rushed forwards, wrapping the Windego in more chains as they tried to drag it away. Watching the display, Trixie laughed maliciously.

“By analyzing the magical signature of this beast, Trixie will be able to calibrate her Meteorological Actuator to take control over this artificial storm! If you hadn’t so graciously delivered one right to us, it may yet have taken days before Trixie would be able to track and capture one of these creatures. Now, Trixie will soon have total control over the very same power that once brought ponykind to the brink of extinction!... And it’s all thanks to you and your vendetta against that one pitiful stallion!”

She smirked, extending an upturned hoof expectantly as she eyed Fleur’s captive from under the brim of her hat.

“Speaking of whom, Trixie will be taking him back now... If you would be so kind?”

Fleur bristled, icicles forming on her coat as she snarled a reply filled with equal coldness.

“I will give nothing to a disease like you! I will not let either of you poison this city any longer!”

A spear of ice formed from the ground next to her and lined itself up with Trixie’s head.

“You have brought this winter upon us, and I will return it to you tenfold!”

Trixie smirked as a bolt of plasma soared through the maze of icy statues and vaporised the spear before it could launch.

“Actually... That was going to be Trixie’s second request...”

Fleur leaped back as a dozen more plasma shots melted the floor where she had just stood, glancing around in a panic. In mechanical unison, a horde of Lunatron drones came pouring out from the side corridors leading off of the entrance hall, fanning out among the ice structures and surrounding her as their hip-mounted plasma cannons rained suppressing fire onto her position. 

Fleur reeled under the assault. It was sheer overconfidence that she had not anticipated that the empire would not simply give up and leave her mansion alone after going to such lengths to acquire it. She had simply assumed her own safety, and had become so accustomed to those corridors leading to collapsed, disused rooms that she had not once considered them as potential ambush spots.

Fleur had nowhere to retreat to, struggling to hurl ice at the advancing machines while also ensuring that none of the frozen residents got caught in the crossfire. She took a nasty hit to the shoulder, burning her fur as she fell to the ground. 

“No! This is my home! I can’t allow you to... Argh!”

Fleur went into full defence, struggling to hold up a protective ice barrier as the Lunatrons relentlessly poured plasma at her, turning her ice into steam as fast as she could create it. 

Watching Fleur struggle under her own personal sauna, Trixie stifled a diabolical chuckle. She took a small capsule from one of the Lunatrons at her side, twisting it into activation before using her magic to throw it to a rolling stop at the base of Fleur’s sweltering hooves.

Fleur retched as a cloud of gas burst out from the grenade, quickly polluting her lungs and bringing swift paralyzation to her spasming limbs. Falling to the ground, Fleur had only enough time to gurgle angrily before falling wholly unconscious. With the target down, the other robots ceased fire, standing to attention as Trixie barked orders at them from her vantage point.

“Take her out of Trixie’s sight. Trixie wasn’t expecting such a perfect bait to walk right into her hooves, but as M.A.R.E.’s ‘finest’ will soon come looking for her...”

She grinned in sadistic anticipation.

“It seems Filthy Rich actually screwed up in a positive way for once. By the time Harpflank and Sweets get here, Trixie’s ultimate weapon will be ready and waiting.”

She heard a snort of frustration as the stallion in question was carried up the staircase by one of her mechanical servants, having already been dispatched to free him from his icy restraints. Despite his prolonged exposure to intense cold, Rich still had enough ire left in him to yell back at Trixie through shuddering lips.

“It was y-you who forced me to hasten our p-plans, remember? That c-crazy mare could have k-k-killed me because of your impatience!”

He breathed heavily, clearly having been greatly shaken by the turn of events and was now struggling to regain control over the situation. 

“I d-demand an escort back to my offices. My event was r-ruined by this t-travesty, so I need to return and run d-damage control...”

Rubbing his hooves together, Rich shivered as Trixie cast a minor heating spell to get his blood flowing again.

“... Then comfort my poor, d-distraught Diamond Tiara.”

Trixie rolled her eyes.

“Your daughter is fine, you imbecile. Besides, you’d never make it with all those Windegos out for your blood. You’re safer here. Trixie’s plan is finally reaching fruition... Soon all opposition to our Lady’s Empire will be snuffed out like a candle in a hurricane.”

She grinned wide, smashing her hooves together as she imagined the idiotic forms of Harpflank and Sweets being crushed between them. Flinging out her cape with dramatic flair, Trixie swept from the room as she and a hesitant, trembling Filthy Rich made haste to the site of Trixie’s ultimate revenge.

“Do not look so apprehensive, Rich... Show a little enthusiasm! For one night only, The Great and Powerful Trixie is going to put on the greatest exclusive show you’re ever going to see!”

This time, her diabolical laughter could not possibly be restrained.

“... And it’s going to be a killer performance.”

As the entrance hall emptied of robots and villains, silence once again reigned over the crowd of frozen creatures. The air still steamed from plasma fire, but the raging winter storm outside was quickly sucking the room of all its residual warmth and denying the captured creatures any chance of mobility or freedom.

However, hidden behind the food counter at the base of the stairs, one icicle had been the recipient of a stray plasma bolt, and was now replaced by a gently steaming puddle. Though the disappearance of the ice was easily explained, more mysterious was the missing medical bags that been laying by the side of the counter and the shotgun that had vanished from underneath its lid.

While Trixie had designed her machines with the firepower to overwhelm even Fleur’s incredible abilities, they were lacking in several other areas. In one such example, as the Lunatrons had departed to obey Trixie’s will, their simple AI had failed to notice a trail of droplets leading deeper into the corridors of the collapsing mansion.




Scene 13




Lyra exploded out of the snowbank, gasping for air. Overbalancing from the effort of her leap, she fell face-first back into it, burying herself barrel deep in the chilled white icing spread thickly over what had once been a road. Planted good and deep, the only part of her that stuck out of the snow was her instrument-emblazoned rump, with her frost-dampened tail marking her location as it flapped like a flag in the gale.

Not three meters away, Bon-Bon struggled against the deepening snow with every step, struggling to draw her costumed hooves from the barrel-high snowdrift as she painstakingly ‘swam’ her way down the frozen river.

Gritting her teeth against the chatter, Bon-Bon shot an aggravated glance at the ghostly figures spiraling endlessly over their heads. The Windegos had not once stopped harassing them since they left the party, and had hounded them with the most relentless onslaught of supernatural-natural forces that the pair had ever seen. For a while, they had tried to scare them off by fighting them head-on, but the monstrous spectres were made from the very wind and hail around them, making their efforts quite literally as useless as throwing punches at a hurricane.

Submerging once more, Lyra burrowed her way through this latest mound of snow, wriggling, worm-like through the frozen mush. She gained momentum as she scurried, diving down before curving up and breaching the surface like a leaping dolphin, allowing her to take a huge gulp of air before she hit the snow once again. This time she twisted in mid-air, avoiding further submersion by landing spread-eagle on her back and sliding a few feet. While laying there, Lyra’s sneezing came back worse than ever, her convulsions making her hop off the ground with every breath.

Bon-Bon floundered forwards another few feet, yelling into her communicator as Lyra’s uncontrollable sneezing drove her to unwittingly mark out the grooves of a childish snow-pegasus in the snow around her.

“V-Vinyl! Thi-This i-is insane! We’re not get-t-tting anywhere!”

Barely audible over the howling wind and the haunting whinnies of the Windigoes, Vinyl returned a staticy reply.

“Well, you’re going to have to. The readings are getting stronger, which probably means that they’re getting ready to start. You need to get in there and stop it right now!”

Bon-Bon struggled to get her hooves on the surface, rising a few inches out of the snowbank. Before she could take even a single step, a Windigo swooped down right in front of her and blew directly in her face, sending her flying back with the force of a hurricane. She tumbled end over end as ice crystals began to form all over her body, a strangled scream squeaking out of her lips as another jolt of cold cut through her entire being.

Octavia’s voice cut in, composure cracking under a worried tremor.

“Bon-Bon? Bon-Bon, what’s happening? Your vitals just plummeted! Bon-Bon?”

Shivering uncontrollably, Bon-Bon flinched as something disturbed the snow next to her. A moment later, she realised that Lyra had rolled over to her side and was wrapping her legs and tail around both of them to keep warm. She returned the gesture with senseless limbs, feeling not the damp of their fur, the brittle brush of their tails or the texture of their snowsuits. Lyra was as cold as she was, but even still, she felt a kind of warmth pass between them. A warmth perhaps not measured in degrees.

As her strength returned, Bon-Bon heard an unexpected sound. Something about the sight of them leaning upon one another made the Windegos flinch and nicker with bestial fear. With the swoosh of the howling winds, they shot up into the sky and circled like vultures overhead, waiting for a moment of weakness before they struck. 

Bon-Bon slid her foreleg underneath Lyra’s barrel and helped lift her to her hooves. Stumbling, Lyra slumped onto her right shoulder as she shuddered from deep, throaty coughs. In true heroic fashion, they had made it this far by leaping across the city’s rooftops, but here in the suburbs, buildings rarely stood higher than two floors and the snow was so deep that any citizens unfortunate to live in a bungalow were now almost completely submerged. Despite this, at the far end of the street, Bon-Bon could just about see the outline of their destination, a mansion standing out like a mountain on the edge of her visual horizon. 

Bon-Bon gave Lyra the warmest smile she could muster. 

“Can you go on?”

Lyra’s bunged-up words rang clear in spite of the gale.

“Doesn’t m-matter. We’re a-allmost there.” 

Bon-Bon grimly nodded, trying to contain her own sniffles.

“Just lean on me. We’ll sink less if we s-share our weight.”

Lyra sniffed up a trail of snot, coughing slightly as they kept on walking. The Windegos kept their distance now, wary of the two friends as they carved their path. Just when it seemed like they were going to make it, an imposing shape loomed out of the snowy void, filling the whole street as it moved to block the mansion's gateway. As it neared, the giant took on a familiar equine shape, the snow muffling its steps as it very slowly plodded out to intercept the huddled duo.

Lyra gurgled phlegm as she groaned.

“Gaahgl... Not now!”

The Lunatron stood five stories tall and was built thickly enough to make an elephant look anorexic in comparison. Every leg had the radius of a jumbo jet, the head and body were angular chunks of almost solid, seamless metal and every joint was completely covered by deflecting sheets of heavy armor plating, even coming up to the chin like it was wearing a titanium turtleneck. This Lunatron was nothing less than an absolute tank.

“Harpflank and Sweets. Not very smart wearing such light clothing in weather like this. As you can see, Trixie had dressed quite heavily for the season... My brand-new hi-Yield Engine Thermal Isolator Lunatron cannot be blown over by any wind and has armor so strong that not even your so called ‘super strength’ could damage it.” 

There was an amplified giggle and slurp of of what could have been hot cocoa before Trixie smugly continued.

“What do you think? Does it not exceed all expectations?”

“I think you can shove it right up your a-a-actchoo!”

As Lyra dealt with another sneezing fit, Bon-Bon cast a skeptical look at the armored titan.

“It’s p-pretty tough alright. But that thing looks like it can b-barely move! We could probably walk around you before you could t-take a single step!”

“Quite true Sweets, it is a bit of a cumbersome beast. But this time, Trixie doesn’t need to take a single step... Because Trixie has already won.”

Vinyl’s staticy voice began yelling in their ears.

“Guys! Really Bad! Really, Really bad!”

Behind the Lunatron, the silhouette of the mansion lit up as a beam of light stabbed its way up into the sky, penetrating the roiling flesh of the dark clouds in synchronicity with two identical beams slicing up the storm from the other distant corners of Metropony.

“It’s starting...”

Across the entire city, the snow stopped. No longer falling, the billion powdery fragments hung in midair, suspended like an infinite expanse of stars over the streets and buildings, as if ponderously confused at the sudden halt of gravity. The howling winds vanished, replaced by an unnatural stillness. Echoing loudly in the unmoving air, the uneven wheezing of Lyra and Bon-Bon’s puffing breaths was the only noise in the deafening silence. 

Bon-Bon had heard old pegasi tales about the wild storms of pre-unification Equestria, and of battered flyers being lured to carelessness by the deathly calm at their center. But this was something far worse than that... Not merely the deceptive respite in the eye of the storm, but the scraping hooks of dark magic forcing that eye wide open for torture and brainwashing. New commands were being issued, new programing forced into an unwilling subject. The black clouds glowed with a sickly internal light, filled with dark energy as the planet's entire atmosphere convulsed in instinctive horror.

The Windegos, who had been circling in confusion over their loss of power, were hit by this convulsion and contorted in pain. Coming apart at the seams, they shrieked and whinnied in animalistic agony before disintegrating into countless icy flakes. With their physical appearance destroyed, all that remained was their lingering spectral aura which then faded into ghostly motes of light that was drawn to metallic spire rising out from the shattered mansion roof, surrounding it like fireflies. 

Trixie took notice of the glow around the spire, laughing with malicious glee.

“Ahahahaha! Behold, Harpflank and Sweets! Trixie has stolen the gift of the pegasi! The very sky itself, and all that lay under it, now belong to Trixie... No bird shall fly, no sun will shine... no breath will be taken that Trixie does not allow into your wretched lungs! The full, unmatched might of nature now bows to Trixie... And so shall you!”

All of a sudden, the wind started up again. Spiraling, twisting, focusing, swirling together into a concentrated tornado tendril that began snaking down from the illuminated clouds above. There was a blinding blur of movement as every suspended particle of snow across the entire city all flew directly into the tornado, turning it into a dazzling drill of compressed and compacted cold.

Clutching each other even harder in shock, Lyra and Bon-Bon leapt onto the roof of the closest suburban house an instant before the pressure-blasted mountain of frost crashed down on them with the unstoppable force of a dozen avalanches. 

Trixie’s laughter only continued as the snownado changed course, demolishing several houses as it swung back towards Harpflank and Sweets. Seeing the force of nature hurtling towards them, Bon-Bon gulped.

“This might be a problem.”




Scene 14




For the second time that day, Fleur woke up as a prisoner. Blinking her bleary eyes to the open position, she found her vision blocked by the frozen mess of her own mane splayed out across her face, its matted clumps only falling open where the length of her muzzle peeked through. 

Grunting with the effort, she rolled onto her side, making her hair shift aside in the process. Now that her vision was clear, Fleur discovered that her drug-nap had ended with her positioned uncomfortably on the floor of her own bathroom. It would seem that in the short time since they had moved in, Trixie’s underlings had hastily converted the once-luxurious suite into a temporary jail cell. 

Without any of the security features of a real jail cell, they had been forced to bodily bind their prisoner in place. Shifting around, Fleur found that her hooves had been painfully hogtied by small, but tightly interwoven chains. Distressingly, these chains had no lock, as both ends had been magically fused together to form a seamless loop with no means of release. 

This crude but uncompromising restraint would have been cruel enough to use on an ordinary pony, but to a unicorn of Fleur’s stature, the binding of her long limbs so close to her chest was causing her muscles to scream in prolonged protest.

Abandoning the naive notion of sitting up, Fleur flopped back to the ground, huffing in disgust. She could still feel some of the drugs in her system, blocking her magic with searing headaches and nullifying every every attempt to direct her ice powers along her hooves or horn.

Squeezing her eyes shut once more, the details of Fleur’s recent life began to surface from the polluted chemical haze of her memories.

“Rich... and Trixie. She took my home... My Windego. I’ll destroy her!”

Anger boiling inside her gut, Fleur tried again to break through the chemical blockage keeping her powers dormant. Although her head throbbed from the pressure, her horn remained dull and the surrounding temperature remained annoyingly constant. Instead, her unfruitful act of rebellion only earned her the full attention of her two Lunatron guards. 

Drowsy and preoccupied as she was, even something as out-of-place as murderous robots in her bathroom had completely passed under Fleur’s notice, largely due to the unnatural stillness with which they stood guard. But now, after detecting an attempt at escape, the twin drones stepped forward and leveled their weapons at her in mechanical symmetry.

Finding herself right in the line of fire of four pre-charged plasma lances, Fleur didn’t dare to move a muscle. Agonisingly tense seconds dragged on into agonisingly tense minutes as the death machines continued to hold her in their deadly stare-down, leaving only the flickering glow of plasma as the only movement in the room.

As the moment dragged on and on, Fleur’s hope slowly began to trickle away.

“... So that’s it then? If I try to escape, you’ll just kill me.” 

Fleur grit her teeth, filled with bitterness at her stupidity. With shuddering breath, she admitted her failure. 

“Even after everything I sacrificed... I still couldn’t stop them. I just gave them everything they needed to destroy Metropony.”

Fleur rested her head back on the tiles and became very silent. Grief and loathing spiraling inside of her, she just laid there and waited for robotic death.

Although the Lunatrons hadn’t been programmed with any protocols for mercy, the lack of resistance from their prisoner made them re-evaluate her as being a non-threat. Resetting to their standard guard mode, they stepped back, raising their weapons slightly as they returned to observational standby.

Then the door slammed open and knocked one of them flat on its butt.

Redheart dived into the room as she flipped through the air and performed a leaping tackle. She body-slammed into the hull of the second drone, throwing off its aim as it fired. Plasma bolts streaked from the drone’s lances, detonating the bathroom wall as Redheart, with practiced ease, ducked under them and then swiftly pounced onto the robot’s back.

From her position wedged up against the bathtub, Fleur flinched as she was hit with an eruption of debris and plaster from the collateral damage. Undaunted, Redheart rode the robot rodeo-style, riding out its frantic thrashing as she grappled its weapons and directed them up towards the ceiling where they couldn't shoot her. 

With a crack of breaking wood, the other Lunatron ripped the bathroom door off its hinges and leapt back to its hooves. Following through with programmed hostility, it immediately opened fire on Redheart and, in its haste, quickly blasted a molten hole in the side of the drone she was riding on. 

Feeling the droid go limp, Redheart hopped off its back and in the same motion, kicked it across the room... which subsequently knocked the other robot back to the ground. Swiftly striding up to her prey, Redheart reared up on her hind legs and pulled out her custom shotgun from the strap of her saddlebags. Confident that the sound of the storm had covered up the sounds of her swift execution, she leveled the gun at the Lunatron’s skull-unit and and turned it to scrap.

Overcome with the brutality and efficiency of the destruction, Fleur was lifted out of her despair only so she could instead gape at Redheart in total shock.

"Red... How did you... When did you..."

Taking control over her spluttering, Fleur scrunched up her eyes, trying to come to terms with the fact that there was a side to her friend that she hadn't seen before.

"Just who are you?"

Redheart hoisted her shotgun over her shoulder and thought about her answer. Eventually, she just told her the exact truth.

"I'm an agent of M.A.R.E. I fight to protect this city, and I do so in any capacity required of me. Some days I heal the ponies who have nopony else to help them. Some days I heal the ponies who are needed to keep everyone else safe from harm."

Redheart frowned and looked away.

"But whatever I do, no matter what day, I try to help however I can. That is who I am.” 

Her eyes flicked back to Fleur. They were brimming with the hurt of betrayal, but also a faint hopefulness that trickled out in the form of a question.

"Do you remember who you are?"

Fleur slumped her head onto the tiled floor, spluttering her tangled thoughts.

“Red... Everything I did, I just... I couldn’t-”

She sobbed.

“I was going to lose him, Red! He was dying right in front of me! I couldn’t... I just couldn’t...”

As her words trailed off, Redheart knelt down and rested her free hoof on Fleur’s mane, gently brushing the ice crystals free from the sodden mess. Eventually, her patience was rewarded with another coherent sentence.

“I... I’m as bad as they are. I treated all of you like my possessions. I... I just didn’t care what any of  you wanted, as long as I got what I wanted. I... Oh Celestia...”

She curled up as much as her restraints would allow, scrunching her eyes closed.

“I wanted vengeance so badly that I took the Windego’s power and ignored that I was only helping them make this winter even worse! And now I’ve played into Trixie’s hooves and given her everything she needs to blow away all of Equestria!”

The comforting hoof stopped, pulling away as Fleur rolled over, staring at the side of her bathtub with the typical bathtub-revelation degree of shame.

“That’s who I am, isn’t it? Just another deranged monster plaguing the citizens of Metropony.”

Fleur closed her eyes and sank into despair once more. Or, at least she tried to. There was a bizarre sensation spreading across her bound limbs, which was proving to be highly distracting from the standard despair-diving protocol that Fleur was attempting to adhere to.

It was a few moments before something clicked in Fleur’s head and she finally recognised the foreign feeling as being the one known as ‘warmth’. 

Fleur lifted her head, looking over her shoulder in confusion. While she had been occupied with her shame, Redheart had retrieved a laser tool from her saddlebags and was now cutting through her restraints.

“Red? What are you doing?”

“Helping.”

The chains snapped as Red pulled the heated metal in different directions. Baffled, Fleur shifted back into a sitting position, rubbing her legs where the chains had chafed her. After a moment, Redheart put her laser tool back into her bag and then returned with a small injection needle. 

“This should get your magic working again. Hold still.”

Fleur frowned, keeping still as the needle slipped into her leg.

“Red, why are you trusting me? I’ve actually gone insane and attacked you. This... You should have left me locked up.”

Redheart dabbed a swab at the bead of blood left from the injection. Her eyes drifted up to meet with Fleur’s.

“Do you want to help?

“...Yes.”

Redheart stood up and retrieved her shotgun.

“Then let’s save the world.”




Scene 15




Sneaking through the ruined mansion was actually quite easy, purely by virtue of it being ruined. Trixie had seen no point in moving her drones or engineers into the collapsed rooms of the mansion because, being collapsed, those rooms were of no use to her.

While the two mares normally avoided the damaged sections of their home for safety, in the current circumstance the risk was more than worth it. With Fleur’s ice powers working to stabilize piles of rubble and bridge any gaps in the floor, and Redheart’s training serving to warn them of any passing Lunatron patrols, the pair of them were able to use their intimate knowledge of the building's layout to reach the ballroom without being detected. 

Hiding in the shadows of the upper balcony, Redheart and Fleur scoped out the heart of Trixie’s operation, beholding the construct that made her sinister plan possible.

Needless to say, Fleur did not agree with the changes made to Fancy's ancestral home. It may have been falling apart, but it had still been theirs. In the years since Filthy had taken their company, they had poured all of their time and effort into turning it into a place that would welcome and shelter anyone who needed it. Now, it was nothing more than the dark, cavernous heart of a war machine.

The mansion’s sinkhole, a devastating mudslide that spiraled down into a fathomless abyss, was now filled with machinery. Metal gantries were drilled into the rock and soil of the jagged walls of the pit, crisscrossing the vast hole like the intricate strands of a colossal spider web. In the middle of this web was a massive reaching pylon that was so large it not only descended deep into the bowels of the earth, but also shot upward, breaking through the roof and pointing accusingly towards the sky above. 

It was from the top of this spire that a blinding beam of energy sparked and crackled, tainting the clouds with an unnatural color that was swiftly spreading to the distant horizon. Tethered like dogs to a post, two Windegos writhed in electric chains, utterly bound to the machine that had stolen their power.

Seeing what Trixie had built, Fleur grappled with alternating flashes of guilt and denial, struggling to reconcile the thought that she had helped the Empire execute their insane plan. Recognizing that neither of these emotions were particularly helpful, she turned to Redheart and matched her grim expression.

“How do we stop it?”

Straight-faced, Redheart nodded in the direction of the sinkhole and the eerie light that was emanating from it.

From her hiding spot, Fleur could not see down into the pit, but as she turned her attention downwards, she found she did not need to. Echoing out from the abyss were the unmistakable sounds of a feral creature in torment, drowning out even the whinnies from its siblings chained up high above.

“The Windego I brought here? Then she must be using it to control the others. We need to get down there.”

Again, Redheart nodded, not sparing even a whisper to give away their position. She paused in thought for a moment, then holstered her shotgun.

“Wait until I get close to the hole, then make a distraction.”

Fleur grimaced at the risk in such a plan, but otherwise said nothing as Redheart turned from her and vanished into the shadows. Biting her lip, Fleur leaned back into the pillar she was hiding behind, and looked out again, this time seeking a target for her ‘distraction’. 

Sitting in a comfy chair situated adjacent to Fleur’s hiding place, The Great and Powerful Trixie sipped her cocoa and giggled to herself. Her chair was placed directly in front of the main control console for her weather machine, which was situated on one of the tower’s larger gantries, just below the line where the hole began to sink into the earth. A pair of Lunatron guards stood on either side of her, standing to attention in the same way as the other twenty-or-so Lunatrons that were just standing around in the ballroom, awaiting further orders.

Trixie had her eyes eagerly glued to large monitor which displayed live footage from the Lunatron outside. Using rapid but precise twitches of her magic, Trixie manipulated the remote controls for her YETI at the same time as she typed commands into the command console of her meteorological actuator array. 

To anypony without Trixie’s intellect, the strain of calculating relentless, deadly weather patterns at the same time as directing a walking war machine would be an impossible task. But Trixie was fueled by extra-strength-cocoa and her unrelenting desire to destroy her hated nemesi... With those things powering her, she made the incredible act of coordination seem as if it were mere child's play. 

With a devilish smirk, the multitasking megalomaniac directed both of her creations to herd Harpflank and Sweets into each other’s attacks, the hurricane winds blowing the battered heroes time and again into the lumbering blows of her sluggish titan. 

As the merciless battle continued, each successful blow made Trixie cackle with delight. Gritting her teeth, Fleur found Trixie’s mirth only caused her own anger to spike higher and higher.

Fleur snapped her attention away from the MAA spire as another pony walked into her line of sight, trotting across the cracked ballroom floor to rendezvous with Trixie. After seeing who it was, Fleur had to actually freeze her hooves to the ground to keep herself from pouncing out of cover right then and there.

Filthy Rich had tried to clean himself up with a shower and a change of clothes after his kidnapping, taking one of Fancy Pants’ formal dinner jackets from their closet as he tried to groom his greasy mane back into it’s usual state.

Despite his efforts though, the whole experience had left him incredibly flustered. Still shivering even through the effects of a warmth-enhancement spell, his eyes were nervously darting around, perhaps still searching for a vengeful mare waiting to pounce from the shadows. 

Barely restraining her urge to pounce from the shadows, Fleur’s hateful eyes didn’t leave him for a second, burning a hole in the back of his head with the force of her pure loathing.

Trixie didn’t spare the shaky stallion a glance as he approached her, instead tutting with annoyance as Sweets pulled three grenades from her saddlebags and flung them into the vacuum pull of her snowy tornado. With an explosion that could be heard even inside the mansion, the concussive force blew apart the swirling wind spear, coating the landscape in yet another layer of frigid dust. 

Trixie’s smirk barely twitched, instead instructing her Lunatron’s head panels to swing open and hose Sweets in a fresh hailstorm of twin-chaingun fire. As Sweets darted between newly-deepened snowdrifts, Trixie inputted new calculations into the MAA, directing a more literal hailstorm to fall down upon her enemy as chunks of ice the size of washing machines started plummeting out of the glowing clouds overhead.

Clicking her tongue, Trixie’s eyes never left the screen as she spoke.

“Is there something you need, Rich? Or are you just here to bask in the glory of Trixie’s absolute victory?”

The business tycoon jumped a little, thinking that Trixie had been ignoring him completely.

“When... When we made our arrangement, my personal safety was assured as part of our contract. You said that no matter what became of Equestria, that my daughter and I would be protected by the Empire’s finest soldiers.”

Trixie hunched her shoulders, minor annoyance creeping into her tone.

“Trixie gave you her robotic minions to command. If you commanded them poorly, then it seems that the ice-witch’s little escapade was of your own doing.”

Filthy squared his shoulders, glowering at the back of Trixie’s off-white mane as she kept her attention solely focused on the monitors in front of her. 

“Your machines couldn’t even lay a scratch on that... That thing!”

He flung a hoof in Trixie’s direction, trembling in a manner that may have not been entirely from the cold.

“It took at least thirty of your tin soldiers to subdue Fleur! How can I trust Tiara’s life to your assurances when it takes a whole legion of them to deal with any real threat?”

Although her head remained fixed forwards, Trixie’s tone of voice was enough to communicate her raised eyebrow.

“Do you want that many?”

“No, I want some real guards. Like those bat-winged soldiers I’ve heard Her Highness has been training.”

Finally, Trixie turned around.

“My Lady Luna does not give up her personal guard lightly, Rich. If you ask this, then you will have exhausted all favors I can grant you.”

Filthy Rich hesitated for a second before nodding. 

“I can’t risk something like this happening again.”

Trixie sighed and turned back to her battle. While she had been distracted, Harpflank and Sweets had taken shelter underneath the towering YETI unit, using its large body as a shield against the heavy hail as they punched away at its impervious armor.

“Very well. You are a valuable asset and Trixie is sure Her Highness can be persuaded to part with some of her troops should you become a target. Not that Trixie anticipates much resistance now that the forces of nature have been brought to heel at our hooves.”

A moment passed in silence as Rich looked distractedly off to one side. Trixie directed a gale force wind to send the heroes tumbling out from their little safe spot and back into the showering hail. Despite the clear dismissal, Rich did not leave, forcing Trixie to turn back to him with severe annoyance. 

“Was that all?”

Filthy ground his teeth together, still finding it hard to stand Trixie’s haughty dismissals.

“Right now, I need something to kill that witch with. I just need to know for sure that she’s dead before I can return home and comfort my poor, distraught Diamond Tiara...”

Trixie scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“Distraught? Your filly is likely searching for your will right now, you deluded fool. But fine. If it gets you out of Trixie’s vicinity faster, then by all means believe your daughter loves you.”

Focusing back on the battle outside, Trixie levitated a plasma rifle out of her cloak and thrust it in Filthy’s direction.

“Here, point the thin end at the thing you want to become dead.” 

Fleur was able to relax as Rich turned and left the ballroom. Although the look on his face when he realised she was free would be a delight to behold, there were more important things to focus on than her revenge.

Fleur glanced up at a flash of light in the corner of her eye. Perched on the balcony on the other side of the room, Redheart was using the lens of her M.A.R.E. communicator to let Fleur know she was in position. 

Receiving the signal, Fleur stepped out from her hiding place and announced her presence. ‘Announced’, in this context, being used to describe a beam of ice magic blasted at Trixie’s head.

Unluckily, Trixie chose that moment to glance up at the distracting light reflected in the metal of the spire. 

“What is... Ah!”

As Fleur took her shot, Trixie reacted by spinning around, grabbing one of her drones in her magic, and holding it in front of her like a shield. A second later, Trixie dropped the frozen robot onto the gantry floor with a clang, peeking up at Fleur from under her hat. 

“So, you finally decided to show some spine? A very foolish move. Drones, destroy her!”

Moving in mechanical unison, the twenty-something drones turned and opened fire, peppering the raised balcony with plasma blasts. Avoiding the barrage, Fleur took off at a sprint, dashing around the perimeter of the ballroom as the searing plasma tore away at the walls and floor behind her and turned the balcony into a pock-marked mess of molten craters. 

Narrowly evading the drones targeting, Fleur scoffed and drew her powers into her horn before discharging her magic with a series of strobe-like flashes. Deciding to be as distracting as possible, Fleur raised her voice in a taunting tone.

“Of course I’m here, Trixie. What kind of a host would I be if I left my guests unattended to?”

With Fleur’s suicidal dash holding all their attention, none of the drones noticed as her magic began to take hold of the ruined tiles beneath their hooves. Suddenly, the stationary drones were picked off one by one as lethal ice-spikes shot out of the ground and pierced their undersides with systematic precision.

Her long legs pumping away, Fleur kicked off a wall as she turned the corner of the balcony and fired off a midair ice beam that took out another three Lunatrons.

“Unfortunately, you’ve all outstayed your welcome!”

Trixie snarled, struggling to divide her attention between fighting Harpflank and Sweets and keeping her eye on the frosty unicorn devastating her forces.

“No! Trixie has worked too hard for this victory! Why does this wretched city insist on throwing these superpowered freaks at Trixie? Trixie is the only one great enough to deserve such power!”

Forgetting Harpflank and Sweets for a moment, Trixie turned and rose from her chair, flaring her cape as she reached for her secret weapon. 

It was at this moment that Redheart made her move. One of the quirks of M.A.R.E’s equipment, distributed by the ‘brilliant’ minds at ExTech, was that every single staff position... be it agent, chef or janitor, was provided with their own personal explosives just as part of their standard equipment. Because of this, even Redheart’s medical bags were likewise equipped with a supply of regulation ‘medical’ grenades.

Holding her shotgun in the coil of her tail, Redheart leapt from her hiding place and vaulted the banister, teeth gritted as she tossed one of these grenades into a cluster of Lunatrons congregating by the rim of the sinkhole.

As the explosion assisted in thoroughly thinning out the enemy ranks, Fleur chanced slowing down for a moment as she shot a stream of ice directly underneath her falling friend. Redheart hit the ice with all four hooves, crouched down and tail streaming behind her as the dedicated ice slide slid her rocketing towards the sinkhole at high speed.

At the last moment, Redheart leapt, using the momentum to body slam one of the remaining Lunatrons at full force. Falling into the pit, she landed on top of the drone as they both crashed on top of one of the massive support struts holding the spire in place.

Looking down in shock, Trixie watched as the earth mare passed her shotgun from her tail into her hooves and dispatched the pinned Lunatron with one point-blank shot that blasted its torso into a mangle of oil and gears.

“What is...? Ah!”

With uncharacteristic terror, Trixie yelped as she dived for cover behind her control panel. She barely reacted in time as Redheart turned her gun upwards and fired another three shots in the showmare’s direction.

Sweeping her cloak around her, Trixie pressed her back into the Meteorological Actuator Array and hissed as the shells pinged off of the metal inches away.

"How dare you! Trying to harm the Great and Powerful Trixie?! That was the biggest mistake of your life!"

Reaching into her cloak, Trixie pulled out a metal cylinder the size of a briefcase. Grabbing one end, Trixie crammed her hoof into the other and twisted. With a deep, menacing 'clunk', the cylinder expanded in size, revealing an enhanced plasma core glowing with swirling streams of teal and lavender energies. The end of the device telescoped outwards, twisting and lengthening until the entire weapon reached the length of a minivan, ending in a blunt wide-mouthed cannon-barrel with a handle on top, also glowing with the same sinister energy.

"If you wish to fight Trixie, then prepare to face Trixie's Maximum Buster Cannon!"

Snarling, Trixie used her magic to heft the weapon at both ends, wielding it like an oversized minigun. Charging the plasma core, blinding light shot down the cannon’s barrel as Trixie hopped out from cover and fired a bathtub-sized blob of energy at Redheart. With death bearing down on her, Redheart flung herself off of the strut and dived into the abyss moments before Trixie’s attack obliterated her vantage point in a devastating explosion.

Slightly smouldering from the blast, Redheart tumbled down into the pit, bouncing once off the side of the sinkhole before harshly landing on another support pole two levels down. Redheart choked, her body folded around the pole she had slammed into, winding her and cracking several of her ribs.

Fighting to get her breath back, Redheart scrambled to grab the pole with her hooves, desperately clinging onto it as she struggled not to slide off and plummet further into the sinkhole. Gritting her teeth in agony, Redheart directed her eyes straight upwards, staring past the disheveled strands of mane that had been knocked loose from her bun. 

Having already been eroded by the natural process of geology, the unstable ground beneath the ballroom had been further dislodged by the plasma blast, greatly widening the sinkhole as tonnes upon tonnes of earth and rock crumbled away and plummeted into the yawning caverns below.

Redheart moved immediately, swinging from her pole and leaping towards the spire. Grabbing onto one of many protrusions, Redheart pressed herself up against the cold metal and tensed up, waiting for the cacophony of crumbling stone to fade away. 

Once she was sure the avalanche had passed her by, Redheart let out a sigh and grimaced. Feeling the acute pain in her chest, her medical mind helpfully informed her that any further physical activity would only worsen her injuries and limit her odds of recovery. Her head dipped and she growled in refusal.

“... Stick to the plan.”

Gasping, Redheart forced herself to move, climbing hoof-over-hoof as she descended the spire, heading towards the core.




Scene 16




Outside in the Sanctuary courtyard, Lyra and Bon-Bon were catching their breath. Trixie’s YETI had ground to a halt and, while the weather had not died down, it was no longer adapting to their tactics or targeting them specifically. They were both very okay with this development.

“Y-you think Trixie’s distracted with s-something?”

Part of the mansion’s roof exploded in a blast of plasma. Bon-Bon nodded.

“Yeah, that seems a r-reasonable ass-ssumption. What now?”

Although they were now technically in the clear, Trixie had stopped giving commands to her weather machine just as she had created another tornado to block the entrance to the mansion and keep the pair of them outside. Undaunted by this new obstacle, Lyra pointed a hoof at the glowing spire still keeping the Windegos ensnared.

“We take out her new toy! Come on, let’s ‘sweep them off their hooves’.”

Bon-Bon smiled as she recognized the M.A.R.E. code words that she and Lyra had been working on. Instantly knowing the exactly which one of her insane strategies that Lyra had in mind, they leapt into action.

Together, Lyra and Bon-Bon rushed over to the shadow of the idling YETI, taking shelter as they huddled up behind both of its towering forehooves. Pressing up against the cold metal, Bon-Bon relished the reprieve as the howling wind was diverted around her on both sides of the massive limb. Giving Lyra a nod, they both reached down, digging and searching into the snow for the spot where the machine made contact with the frozen ground.

In unison, Harpflank and Sweets slid their own hooves into the crack beneath the behemoth and, straining with all their might, heaved upwards. Inch by inch, the YETI’s hooves began to move, sliding up and folding into a pose almost like it was rearing back in shock. 

Lyra and Bon-Bon lifted the hooves above their head, standing underneath them as they pushed their own forelimbs upwards. Straining with the effort, they slowly took step after step forwards, pushing the YETI further and further off balance as it wobbled on its hind legs.

With one final heave, the machine tumbled over backwards. For a moment, all of its hooves left the ground as it tipped, falling flank-first into the raging tornado. Despite the unmatched fury of the raging tempest, the sheer weight and density of the YETI was too much for it to lift, and instead simply added to the momentum of the toppling Lunatron. 

The YETI, once so utterly steadfast and immovable, now tumbled into a lazy, uncontrolled backflip as it slowly catapulted through the air. Finally, and with all the grizzly certainty of a brick diving on a watermelon, the robot sailed over the roof of Sanctuary and collided with the MAA spire with a crunch of crumpling, crunching metal.

“Yes! Take tha- Atchoo!”

With a mighty thud, the YETI bounced off the ruined spire and flopped onto the east wing of the manor. As a result the entire east wing completely collapsed, crumbling to rubble in much the same way that most buildings do when confronted with Harpflank and Sweets.

But despite the successful maneuver, Lyra and Bon-Bon did not have the opportunity to celebrate. Blinking her weary eyes from yet another chest-busting sneeze, Lyra pointed a hoof to the incandescent skies above the manor.

“Hey, I think the Wind-dingoes are up to something.”

Wrecked by the impact of the YETI, the bent and mangled actuator array faded to a low, despondent hum, shooting sparks as the control system went offline. Left to their own devices, the unnatural wind and hail died down, slowing to a halt as Trixie’s tornado quickly dispersed into a barely fluttering breeze.

At the top of the spire, the two captive Windegos slowed to a floating trot, halting their ghostly carousel as they felt their magical reins go slack. For a second, they just floated there, testing the waters as they waited to see if their slavery would recommence. 

As a moment passed and no punishment came, they had their answer.

The two Windegos spurred into action as a ghastly neigh echoed out from inside the mansion. Responding in kind, the tethered spirits reversed direction, galloping counter-clockwise as the array once more lit up with unearthly light.

Lyra and Bon-Bon flinched, covering their faces as the biting winds kicked up once again, power flowing from the spire to re-agitate the air into violent swirling flurries. Through the noise of the howling gale, Vinyl’s voice cut in over their com-links.

“Something must have happened in there... The Windegos are somehow using the device to make themselves even stronger! The storm is worsening everywhere!”

Shouting to be heard, Octavia reviewed the energy reading with a grim expression.

“In its damaged state, Trixie’s weapon can't handle this level of energy output. It probably won’t bother the Windegos if that weapon goes critical, but Redheart is still in there, and her message said there were citizens still trapped in ice in the entrance hall.”

Cutting a path through the snow, Bon-Bon raced to the mansion’s gates with Lyra close behind.

“There’s no time to shut the machine down! I don’t know if Redheart needs our help, but if those captives are so defenceless, then we need to get them out first!”

Grimly nodding at Bon-Bon’s assessment, Lyra kicked open the front doors and grabbed the closest captive. 

“Fine... I just hope that Redheart isn’t in so deep she can’t make it out of there.”




Scene 17




Half sliding and half climbing, Redheart delved deeper into the pit. Flashes of magic and plasma lit up the sinkhole from far above her, barely illuminating her decent as she approached the Windego chamber.

All of a sudden, an enormous tremor rocked the spire, sending it listing to one side as the metal support struts either buckled in place or were completely torn free of the surrounding rock. Redheart yelped, nearly tumbling into the abyss as her perch shook from the reverberating impact of the Lunatron far above her head.

Nursing her ribs, Redheart clung onto the metal, once more sheltering from a deluge of dirt and stone as the sinkhole spread to greedily consume more and more of the ballroom. As the damaged spire began to power down, the cry of a distinctly furious Trixie echoed down the pit.

“Damn you Harpflank and Sweets! Damn you a hundred-thousand times! Damn you all!” 

Tuning out Trixie’s ongoing rant, Redheart slid down the last few meters of slanted metal as she finally dropped down onto the ledge holding the arcane core. In front of her, separated by only a few hooves of glass and machinery was the heart of this diabolical machine. Inside, the captive Windego thrashed and contorted, still tightly bound by its magical chains.

Limping slightly, Redheart checked her saddlebags as she approached the core. Behind the glass, the Windego glared at her, its empty eyes following her as she planted ‘medical’ explosives all over the magical converter batteries. Even as she worked, Redheart could not shake the feeling that this resentment was not of the beast’s usual kind... Almost as if the spirit creature somehow recognized her, and had thus directed its loathing with much more intent.

With everything in place, Redheart had just prepared the detonator when a faint whisper drifted past her ears.

   “ ...She is ours
You...
... Meddle
Meddle...
Ours...
Stop you...”

The captive spirit threw back its head and bellowed a haunting neigh that reverberated through a pony’s very bones. A moment later its brethren gave an answering cry and almost immediately the entire bank of power regulators lit up with overload warnings and danger signs.

Redheart covered her eyes with her hoof as the light spilling out of the core grew to a blinding intensity, emitting a tooth-grinding noise that rapidly increased in pitch and volume. As the Windegos focused their power the very earth itself seemed to exhale, turning the deep sinkhole into a wind tunnel that swept Redheart away and violently flung her back up the hole. 

Hurtling at dangerous speeds, Redheart barely avoided being splattered against the now fractured network of support struts and crumbling rock as she took the fast route back to the surface.

Despite the concentrated hurricane directed at her, Redheart managed to cling on to her detonator, and with a grimace, pressed it down mid-flight.

“I don’t give up my friends... to the likes of you.”

A second later the core exploded and the rushing surge of air was replaced by one of fire. 

Tumbling end-over-end, Redheart at least had the comfort of being knocked unconscious before she was blasted clean out of the sinkhole and landed on the collapsing ballroom floor in a smoldering heap.

Caught in mid-duel, Fleur and Trixie struggled to keep their footing on the shifting ground as yet another explosion rocked the fragile mansion. That blast was the final straw, as it broke apart the very foundations of the earth. The sinkhole was now widening, splitting the ground apart into a massive chasm. Trixie and Fleur found themselves on opposite sides of what had once been a ballroom, watching the oft-abused MAA spire sink completely into the earth. 

While Trixie was preoccupied spitting expletives over the loss of her masterpiece, Fleur instead made haste to the side of her fallen friend, pulling her back from the brink of the crumbling floor.

“No! Red, I... I can fix this! I can just preserve you! Just like the others!”

Fleur reached down, but before she could freeze Redheart, a burst of wind blew the two of them apart. Fleur looked up as the two freed Windegos drifted down in front of her, soon joined by the third rising from the deep chasm. The energy they had absorbed from Trixie’s machine made their snow-filled bodies glisten like snow in the morning sun and their restored power was causing hail clouds to form even inside what was left of the building.

Her throat raw, Fleur croaked at the Windegos in confusion.

“What are you doing?”

     “ ...Weakens 
You...

Weakens...
...Us.”

Fleur shook her head, refusing to just let her friend die.

“I don’t care, I have to save her! It’s the whole reason I did all this!”

“No...
The reason...
You kill...
Revenge...
Must kill...
...Justice
...Anger   
Hatred...
Kill...
..Kill him.”

Fleur heard a cry from behind her as another large section of the mansion fell into the chasm. Spinning around she saw something that would have otherwise filled her with great joy. Filthy Rich, literally on the brink of death. Scrambling to pull himself up, the sleazebag had taken a wrong turn in his attempt to escape the deathtrap Sanctuary had become, and was now dangling off of the edge of a collapsing staircase that was sliding away into the abyss. 

    “Revenge...
Your chance...
Kill...
One of us...”

Fleur faltered.

“I... I...”

An explosion went off at her hooves, blasting her onto her back. Across the other side of the chasm, Trixie leveled her cannon at the Windegos and fired, forcing them scatter before she turned her attention back to Fleur.

Glaring with unhinged anger, Trixie spat out venom-filled words as she stalked around the rim of the fissure.

“You little witch! Do you have any idea how little your existence means to Trixie? You’re nothing more than the leftovers of Rich’s abject incompetence! The only reason you are still breathing right now is the simple fact you were beneath Trixie’s notice!”

She fired another shot, forcing Fleur to dive out of the way and take shelter behind a crumbling wall. Her hat tilted at a jaunty angle, Trixie’s eyes blazed as she began turning the settings to maximum.

“Now learn why forcing Trixie to notice you was the worst mistake of your worthless life!”

Steam began rising from the metal of Trixie’s buster cannon as the overclocked fusion core began boiling the frigid air of the open-topped ballroom. Clunking into a previously unused formation, shock-absorbing clamps shot out from the bottom and secured it to the crumbling ground beneath her, changing the cannon into a mounted turret. Following this, the barrel of the weapon split apart and widened, abandoning all attempts to focus or contain the searing plasma as Trixie pushed the weapon to the limits of its designed capacity.

Her cape flowing behind her, Trixie laughed maniacally, driven berserk by her overwhelming pride in her creation, and the excitement of seeing her genius on full display.

“For her final trick, Trixie makes you disappear! Overkill Torrent, fire!”

At her command, the cannon unleashed a stream of plasma so large that its heat actually held back the relentless blizzard, vaporizing any snow that got within half a city block of the beam. The magnetic restraints barely managed to hold the weapon in place as the inferno surged out... firing with such an intensity that it could not be aimed. Instead, the weapon was just barely being ‘encouraged’ to shoot in a direction, the blast spraying indiscriminately about as the weapon shook and twisted on its mounting. 

Had Trixie been given a clear shot, Fleur would have surely been incinerated, but instead her Windegos rushed to her aid by dive-bombing Trixie and throwing off her aim.

“Vile beasts... You shall also fall to Trixie!”

Growling loudly and inarticulately, Trixie ‘encouraged’ her weapon to turn and track the Windegos, the plasma torrent swaying this way and that as she pursued them in single-minded determination.

The plasma tore right through what little remained of Sanctuary, incinerating crumbling walls and piled rubble before blasting its way outside. In the mansion’s courtyard, Lyra yelped as the unexpected attack missed her by a tail’s breadth, completely disintegrating said tail before shooting off into the far distance. 

Unfortunately for Metropony, the far distance in question happened to be in the direction of the city center... Yet the destruction was limited, as in what was probably a meaningful act of self sacrifice, Richcorp HQ decided to take the hit, so the other buildings wouldn’t have to.

With Trixie distracted, Fleur took the opportunity to look around, trying to catch sight of Redheart amidst the chaos. Instead, her ears twitched as she heard muted sobbing from just below her. Fleur looked down, feeling her blood boil. In avoiding Trixie’s attacks, she had rolled right up to the edge of the chasm, and the ruined staircase Filthy Rich was desperately holding on to.

As he saw her, his eyes widened in fear.

“Please... I’ll-”

“-You’ll what, pay me?”

Fleur felt her horn light up, her magic wrapping around his hooves, ready to fling him into the abyss.

“Don’t! Please I still... I still need to-”

“Why shouldn’t I? After Helping the Empire? After destroying my home? Poisoning my husband?!”

Fleur began to breathe heavily.

 “Do it...
...Feed us
Feed...
Join...
...Killed him
Hurt you...
...Feed!”

Fleur bristled at the chilling presence hovering over her shoulder. She had no idea when the Windego had managed to break off from harassing Trixie, but here it was, whispering like it always did.

Blinking through tears, Fleur blearily looked around at the ruin of what had once been her Sanctuary. 

“Fancy... We were so happy. This was our home.”

The wind grew louder in her ears as more words blew past.

“His fault...
Ruined it...
...Ruined him
...Join us
End this...
Preserve...
...Our world
...Of ice.”

Fleur shook her head and tried to stand. She didn’t even remember sitting down.

“Become like you? I... No... What was I... Red! I was trying to save Red! Where-”

Something pressed down on her neck, pushing her head back to the ravine and the terrified stallion barely hanging on.

  “Do it...
...Evil
...Vile
Filthy...
...Disease
Cleanse him...
...Parasite
...Greedy
...Murderer
Why.
Should.
He.
Live?”

Fleur’s eyes hardened.

“Why should he live?”

Fleur looked at the pony she wanted to kill. Somehow even through the howling blizzard, and the deranged cries of Trixie, the wind managed to carry one whisper the Windegos had not spoken.

“I still need to protect her... My little Diamond... Please be okay without me.”

Fleur’s ears folded back as she let the hatred slip away.

“That’s it, isn’t it. Even a monster like me... even a monster like him... We’re not empty like you.”

Across the chasm, Trixie yelped as the ground beneath her finally gave away, sending her blaring cannon tumbling into the depths. She stumbled back, throwing a smoke bomb at her hooves as she disappeared.

“Curse you all! Trixie is not done! Trixie is never done!”

In the moments before the spluttering Buster Cannon gave out, the last burst of its plasma stream turned upwards, obliterating the staircase Filthy Rich had clung on to. But instead of falling, the business tycoon floated upwards in the glow of Fleur's magic, finding her hoof outstretched to take his as she pulled him back up.

“Whether or not he deserves to live... I’ll save him because saving ponies is what I do! That is who I am!”

As the two hooves met, a blinding light erupted from the heart of what was once Sanctuary. The light burned the Windegos, calling forth ghostly, bestial screams as pink flames consumed icy bodies, melting all they touched.

Deafened by the shriek of a Windego death knell, Fleur raced over and grabbed Redheart, hoisting her over her withers as she hastily followed moments behind Filthy in a desperate escape from the finally collapsing mansion. 

There was a long moment of silence as the last remnants of Sanctuary fell into the bowels of the earth. The sound splintering wood and crumbling bricks had finally ceased, and the haunting, agonizing wails of burning spirits had faded in turn. The dust settled over a ruined home as the falling snow grew weaker and weaker before halting completely.

Laying in the snow of Santuary’s courtyard, Fleur looked back at her ruined home with a strange sense of peace. She had hastily passed Redheart off to Harpflank and Sweets, having had to do little to convince them to rush her away for medical care.

As M.A.R.E. agents arrived to take her and Rich away for questioning, Fleur looked up and smiled.

In the sky above Metropony, the dark clouds finally cleared and the sun shone through.




Scene 18




Sitting atop the roof of M.A.R.E. HQ, Lyra breathed deeply, enjoying the sensation of her nose being free and clear once again. Perched precariously on the ledge, she kicked her hind legs playfully as she relished feeling of the the sun on her coat.

“Now this is more like it...”

It had been a few days since the storm ended and the city was beginning to move again. Like a numbed limb, Metropony was shaking off the pins-and-needles and getting its circulation flowing once again. Ponies were out in the streets, blearily blinking in the light as they worked to clear the lingering snow from their homes and the lingering fatigue from their bodies.

Metropony wasn’t alone in its efforts. With the skies warming up, Cloudsdale had been given the go-ahead to go airborne again, and was now traveling the nation as it worked to get Equestria’s weather back in order. Being the worst-affected, Metropony had been the first stop on its trip, fluffily gliding to their aid so that their many trained pegasi could assist in the first ever Winter Wrap Up to qualify on the scale of a ‘national crisis’.

Leaning back, Lyra gazed up at the majestic city as it hung in the sky above Metropony. As the sun set on yet another work-filled day, the regal pillars and sweeping curls of the weather capitol caught the light, displaying a silver lining large enough to outclass even that of the Equestrian optimist society. 

Hearing the crunching of hooves on snow behind her, Lyra leaned back even further, now laying down in the thinning snow and looking upside-down at Bon-Bon as she approached.

“Hey BB, nice of you to join me.”

“You’re still supposed to be in bed, young lady.”

Lyra laughed, too amused by Bon-Bon’s fake-admonishing expression to remind her that that restriction was stipulated to her as well. As Bon-Bon trotted up besides her, Lyra sat back up and smirked at her.

“Heh.. It’s just a bit of flu. What kind of superpony would I be if I couldn’t have shaken that off by now? It’s nothing compared to what some ponies had to go through.”

Seeing the mood dimming a little bit, Bon-Bon lifted Lyra’s chin and reassured her.

“You don’t have to worry about them, Lyra. The medical staff have finished thawing out all the ponies we pulled out of that mansion. They’re recovering, but very confused.”

“Spending your nights shivering away in a collapsing mansion and then suddenly waking up in a top-secret underground facility without any warning probably will have that sort of an effect.”

Lyra frowned, thoughts turning to another casualty of their recent mission.

“How’s Redheart doing?”

“Better than expected. It’s a good thing the storm stopped when it did, or we might not have gotten her back to HQ in time.”

Lyra sighed and scratched the back of her head in agitation.

“I can’t imagine what it must be like for her. One of her friends gets poisoned, and the other goes super-crazy out of revenge. Knowing her, she’ll probably just bottle it up and not talk to anypony about it.”

“... Maybe not. I don’t think Fleur has left her side since we brought them in. They seemed to be doing a lot of talking when I left, so maybe they really can help each other through this.”

Lyra looked askance at her partner, folding her forelegs in an irritated fashion.  

“So are we really just going to trust that that fruitcake isn’t going to try and ‘preserve’ her all over again? Or do the same to everypony else for that matter?”

Shrugging, Bon-Bon took a seat next to Lyra, albeit in a less silly pose.

“She did eventually decide to save Equestria from the Windego. That’s gotta be worth a little benefit of the doubt.”

Voice rising in pitch, Lyra threw her hooves up in the air in exclamation.

“Yeah, but how did she stop them? There was just that weird flash of light and then the Wind Dingoes were just gone. We didn’t even have to punch them!”

Bon-Bon sighed, noting that her partner looked almost disappointed.

“Not that that would have even worked, seeing as they were mostly made of air and snow...”

Lyra smacked her hooves together and smirked.

“I would have found a way.”

Bon-Bon rolled her eyes, setting a hoof on Lyra’s shoulder.

“Don’t you remember the Hearth’s Warming legend? Windegos feed off of hatred and conflict. It empowers them. But if a pony puts aside their hate and reaches out to help somepony they despise... an act of kindness like that is like poison to them.”

Sticking out her tongue, Lyra grimaced.

“She killed them with kindness... What a disturbingly literal version of the phrase.”

She tossed her head and growled, looking off in a different direction.

“Whatever, at least now things can finally get back to normal.”

Smiling deviously, Bon-Bon nodded.

“Yeah, another week of Lunatron attacks and musical performances for Lyra Heartstrings. Speaking of which... You’ve been getting numerous requests the last couple of days.”

“Oh, from who?”

The smile widened.

“Just some private performances...”

“What-”

“-For Trenderhoof.”

Lyra fell off the building.

Leaning over the side, Bon-Bon called out to her snow-buried companion with great mirth.

“So what should I tell him?”

A muffled reply carried from three floors below.

“Tell him I’m dead!”

“Oh, if only you could get off that easily...”

“Bon-Bon I swear to Celestia-”

“Tomorrow, on his private yacht? Good plan. I’ll pick you out something nice to wear.”

“Rrrrrgh! Traitor!”

Laughing, Bon-Bon retreated from the ledge as a flurry of snowballs whisked past the ledge where she just was.

“Sorry, Lyra, I can’t let anything get in the way of luuurve...”

Beneath the snow-lined trees of Celestia Boulevard, a red-maned earth pony paused in clearing the snow away from a submerged flower bed to watch Harpflank and Sweets playfully chasing each other from rooftop to rooftop.

Once more joining Lilly and Daisy in their work, Rose sighed, somehow knowing deep in her gut that those two had once again had a hoof in this whole mess.

With wilted ears, she looked down at the fragile spring flowers that hadn’t survived the storm. Truly, this was the worst disaster Metropony had seen to date. 

Rose sighed once again, solemn resignation slipping into her tone.

“Every... Single... Week.”




Scene 19




In one rarely used corner of M.A.R.E HQ was the interrogation room. It was rarely used for a number of reasons. One was that much of the Empire's forces were robots and were therefore incapable of divulging anything outside of their programming. Another was that Trixie very rarely told her underlings much of anything... not out of any sense of secrecy, but just because she didn’t consider them worth her attention. The third reason, unfortunately, was that Lyra had a tendency to get carried away and beat the Lunar agents bad enough that they couldn't remember what little Trixie told them.

Fleur was standing outside the room looking in through the one-way glass. With no expression, she watched Filthy Rich arguing with the M.A.R.E agents attempting to get any smidgen of information out of him. Although the microphones inside the room were picking up on every threatening demand for his lawyers that came out of Rich's mouth, Fleur had stopped listening, and instead just stared at the Billionaire's tantrum with cold, sad eyes.

"Mrs Lis?"

Fleur turned from the window and looked at the mare who had been introduced as Octavia. She was very polite and cultured, which made her an almost comforting presence as it allowed Fleur to slip back into her old high society persona and pretend as if her life hadn't fallen apart.

Right now, Fleur couldn't muster any pleasantries and just spoke the words foremost in her mind.

"He's going to get away with it isn't he?"

Octavia cleared her throat and looked sheepish.

"He insists that his acquisition plans had nothing to do with Trixie hijacking the mansion for her doomsday device and that he was merely present for its activation because you kidnapped him. We also have no proof that he poisoned your husband and any ties he has to the Empire through his finances may take months to find, if we can even identify which accounts the Empire happen to be using."

Fleur hung her head, her eyes scrunched closed.

"So it was all for nothing?"

Shaking her head, Octavia stepped forwards and laid a hoof on Fleur's side.

"The second he leaves, we're going to be watching him like a griffon. Any time he tries to use his business to benefit the Empire, we'll stop him. Every property he owns, all his stock, every aspect of finances, we'll keep track of... And the second we catch him talking with Trixie, or find him sending them money... We'll be breaking down his door to take him in."

Octavia glared at Rich through the glass, turning her nose up in disgust.

"He walks free, but he won't be helping the Empire any more. All he's doing is stepping out into a bigger cage, and every day we'll make it smaller and smaller."

Fleur nodded and looked away, a flash of guilt crossing her face.

"So what cage will I be put into?"

She raised a hoof, allowing a film of ice to grow along her fur.

"I still have my powers, even though the Windego were defeated. I'm dangerous, on top of being a psychotic criminal. Even if I escaped, I don't even have a home to go back to anymore."

Fleur gave a bittersweet smile, slightly amused at how her crusade to help the homeless had resulted in her also losing everything she owned. Setting her icy hoof back on the floor, she was a little confused to see Octavia tilting her head and giving her a 'I know something you don't' smile. 

Trotting around to Fleur's front, Octavia tossed her mane and gave Fleur a look of mock-accusation.

"Although you are guilty of assault, property damage and indirectly aiding an enemy of our nation, out of all your victims, only Filthy Rich is attempting to press charges. For everyone else, the explanation that you were being corrupted by Windegos was enough to forgive you. So instead, the Commander was able to use her clout with the Mayor and Police Chief to get you a punishment of community service... To be served out working and managing the city's homeless shelters."

Octavia dryly chuckled a little at Fleur's dumbfounded expression.

"One of the few bits of filth we were able to find on Rich was that his monopoly of homeless shelters were all completely unfit to serve even the most basic of functions. By Royal decree, we were able to wrestle ownership away from Rich and make them city-owned once again. All we need now is somepony to run them."

Fleur's long legs began to shake and she was forced to sit down, tears seeping from her eyes.

"But... After everything I did... I... Why are you all doing so much for me?"

"Redheart vouched for you. She told us everything that had happened and insisted that you wouldn't abuse our trust. You have friends here at M.A.R.E, and we look after our friends."

Octavia reached into her bag and pulled out an ExTech communications device before hoofing it over to Fleur.

"You can use this if you ever get into trouble, or hear anything about the Empire. We'll also keep you updated on your husband's condition and let you know when we find a way to cure him. We have the best scientists and medics in Equestria right here at M.A.R.E, and Redheart isn't going to stop until she can bring him back to you."

Fleur accepted the device, a hopeful smile breaking through her tears. Unbidden, she reached out and pulled a suddenly uncomfortable Octavia into a tight hug.

"Thank you!... Thank you all so much!"

A little caught off guard, Octavia reached out and patted the taller mare on the back, shivering at the remarkably cold hooves that had wrapped around her.

Eventually, Fleur had calmed down enough to let her go, allowing the mare to trot off back to her duties elsewhere in the base. Smiling, Fleur rose back to her hooves and wiped the tears from her face with the back of a hoof. 

“Fancy... I won’t let your absence get to me. I’ll keep helping where I can... Because that’s what you and Red saw in me."

Sparing a glance back to the interrogation room, she saw that Filthy's rant had finally come to an end and the exasperated agents were reluctantly letting him out. Filled with a sense of hopeful confidence, Fleur lit up her horn and grinned as she used a spell on the glass.

So it was that the moment before he left the room, Filthy Rich happened to look back at the mirror lining one wall and paled at what he saw. A short message, written in frost upon the glass.

'We'll be watching you, Filthy.'




[Credits roll

NEXT WEEK ON HARPFLANK AND SWEETS

“When I say run, you run... Okay?”

“Now, is that any way to greet an old friend?”

“No, it’s much worse than that. It can’t be reasoned with.”

“It’s for moments like this that Trixie wishes she brought her camera.”

TUNE IN FOR THE NEXT EXCITING EPISODE OF… HARPFLANK AND SWEETS] 

-------------------

Coming soon: Episode 33(Surprise Party)
My Little Pony Belongs to Hasbro




Epilogue
 



Eyes glittering with happiness, Fleur’s excited gasp resonated throughout the crowded shelter. With the storm now over, and ponies actually leaving their homes, Fleur had had a much greater influx of volunteers to staff her new Sanctuaries, but she still insisted on doing the cooking herself. This break from her organisational role allowed her to actually stop and talk with the uprooted citizens she was trying to help... Which had led to her current exciting encounter with an old regular.

“You really found her?”

Seeing the slight nod, Fleur’s giddy expression turned to a squeal of joy, reaching over the counter to hug the very uncomfortable donkey on the other side. Blushing, but with the faintest hint of a smile, Cranky Doodle brushed her off, chuckling to himself.

“Turns out, the sister of one of the nurses at that ‘secret base’ had taken Matilda in before the storm hit. Better yet, those M.A.R.E. Lunkheads even offered me a job on their ‘disinformation team’. Said I’d a knack for dismissing things... Heh, pretty soon we’ll be able to afford our own place again!”

Wiping away a tear, Fleur beamed with happiness.

“That’s great news! It seems things are finally looking up for you two.”

“Feh... As long as we can keep another Lunatron from smashing through our next home as well. It’s not like you can get insurance in this crazy city.”

Stopping to stir the pot of soup she was in the process of making, Fleur couldn’t help but to see the renewed love for life behind the old donkey’s eyes. Her job was one that naturally came with a lot of sad stories, so seeing a happy ending like this one did wonders for restoring her spirits... And gave her a faint hope that she would also be reunited with her loved one someday.

“Well, be sure to come back often and let me know how you’re getting on. You two are just too cute together...”

Recoiling in disgust, Cranky made haste to the exit.

“Bah! I am not, and will never be cute! Your crazy ice adventure must have knocked more screws loose than I thought! Humph! Keep talking like that, and see if I ever show my face in here again.”

Smiling at his grouchy antics, Fleur waved a hoof at the protesting donkey as he belligerently elbowed his way out of the door.

“Of course, of course. See you later Cranky!”

Still humming to herself in high spirits, Fleur began pouring out the soup into bowls for their other hungry regulars, her mane bouncing as she giggled.

“It seems you’ve done some real good around here, miss.”

Popping out of her joyful reverie, Fleur blinked and took in the look of the elderly stallion standing before her. He was well-built for a unicorn, and healthy enough that if it were not for his rampantly unshaved beard and extremely patched and tattered brown cloak, she wouldn't have thought that he belonged amongst the other visitors to the shelter.

“Oh hello, I don’t think I’ve seen you here before mister...?”

“Call me Star. I just rode into town a few days ago, and I’ve been catching up on what’s going on recently.”

“Well, Mr Star... I can’t say that Metropony has been any different from anywhere else. That blizzard pretty much put a stop to anything that would have otherwise counted as news. Just a week of huddling together for warmth, like the rest of Equestria."

She slid him a bowl of soup, which he sipped gratefully, trying not to let his beard dip into the warm liquid. 

“Well that is a shock. I’ve never known this town to be anything other than... Interesting.”

Smiling politely, Fleur took back the emptied bowl, a little shocked at the speed at which he’d downed the searing broth. However, instead of stepping aside to let her serve the next pony in line, he leaned onto the counter and gave her his full attention.

“So, I heard you had quite the magical experience the other day.”

Fleur froze up for a moment.

“... Excuse me?”

The stallion chuckled at her, smiling through his beard in rosy-cheeked mirth.

“That sudden surge that banished those wretched spirits. The news may be covering it up, but you can’t hide anything magical from me! This old horn of mine has seen a lot, you know.”

Fleur smiled as best as she could, remembering her promise of silence that she'd given to her new friends at M.A.R.E.

“I... I don’t know what you’re talking about, really.”

“Don’t be so modest, young lady. I felt it from all the way out by the train station, a big old wave of warmth and comfort, washing over me. I swear, it was like Hearth's Warming come early! Filled my old bones with hope for the future...” 

He leaned forwards, looking her deep in the eyes.

“What did it feel like, to have all that magic flowing through you?”

Stunned into silence, Fleur was saved from answering by the voice of an unclothed mare calling out across the hall.

“There you are!”

Nervously grinning, the mare galloped up and put a hoof over his withers in clear embarrassment. Despite her act, she was obviously worried beyond belief at having lost the stallion, and was shivering from the cold, perhaps searching so frantically that she had not the time to throw on any warm clothes.

“Oh Grandpa, you know you’re not supposed to wander off like that. The storm may have cleared up, but there’s still snow everywhere and you could so easily get lost in all these streets!”

The elderly pony looked at the mare with the faintest tinge of amusement before waving a hoof at her dismissively and scoffing.

“Feh, I don’t need you looking after me, girl. You know full well that we’ve braved winters far worse than this one back at home.”

Pursing her lips, she began to lead him away from the counter, shooting an apologetic glance back at Fleur on the way.

“Yes, but you know better than to intrude on the hospitality of others. Let’s get you back to the hotel before you cause any more trouble...”

They left the New Sanctuary, the ‘Granddaughter’ leading her charge several blocks away from the mansion before ducking into an alley and turning to scold him with real concern.

“What were you thinking?! You know how dangerous it is to jump only a few weeks earlier in the timeline! I can’t believe that for somepony who invented time travel, you are so incapable of using it responsibly.” 

Starswirl chuckled with almost paternal mirth at his student’s nagging.

“A winter cursed by spirits, and saved by the warmth inside the heart of a beautiful mare? You can’t tell me you aren’t the least bit nostalgic, Clover.”

Clover paced back and forth, running a hoof through her mane whenever she stopped.

“I can’t believe you would do this. I can’t. I wouldn’t have even known you had gone if you hadn’t have stolen-”

“-Borrowed.”

“-Stolen my cloak when you left.”

He pawed at the tattered rags draped over his body. It didn’t quite have the comforting jangle of bells he was used to, but that would have been a tad conspicuous to be gathering information with.

“I needed to blend in with the homeless. You know, I can’t understand why we can travel to any point in all of time and space, and yet you still choose to dress like a lost urchin, running errands for the cooks in Platinum’s court for your next meal.”

Glowering, Clover levitated off the cloak and transferred it to her own neck, where she tied it on with vehemence. 

“It has sentimental value. I don’t complain about your stupid bells, so don’t pry into my wardrobe.”

She groaned.

“More to the point, you know you can’t hang around in this time period! You’re already pushing your luck, but if you go anywhere near them, Celestia’s going to realise you’re here!”

Starswirl looked back at the shelter, a smirk on his face.

“But I wasn’t going near them, I was going near her. A very interesting mare, if not tied in directly to their plan. She accomplished something only you have ever done... Such an odd way that this city seems to repeat the events of the past, don’t you think?”

Clover went quiet for a moment.

“I take it she didn’t tell you anything more than what I told you?”

“... No. Even after seeing it again, I’m still no closer to understanding this strange magic. Somehow, you discovered it and yet you care less about how it works than you do about worshiping its very existence.”

He spat on the snowy ground, muzzle wrinkling in disgust.

“I raised you to be inquisitive, not pious, girl. Magic is a field to be studied with the mind and thoughts, and yet you try and feel it with your heart, like some sort of pretentious poet or impressionist painter. It really boggles my mind how history remembers a romantic like you for your intelligence, and yet remembers a visionary like me for my facial hair.”

Clover glared at him, building a tenuous bridge of courage to the words she had to say.

“The more you obsess over this, the further you get from the answers. Please Sir, it’s not too late to turn back. The Princess will forgive you if you just let it go!”

Starswirl lit up his horn, preparing the spell to jump to another point in time. With an instinct honed from traveling with him all throughout history, Clover traced his intended destination and felt her heart break just a little.

“Celestia was right... You really are insane.”

“My research will satisfy the curiosity of everypony that comes after me. Once I have recorded my findings, these tests need never be repeated again.”

He disappeared in a flash of light, leaving Clover alone in the snowy alleyway. Teardrops mottled the pure white ground as she hid her face under her hood.

“If you’re planning what I think you are, even once may be too much.”