All-American Girl: The Third Law of Motion

by Cody MacArthur Fett

Young Love

Equestrians! Here is the program of a genuinely Equestriani movement. It is revolutionary because it is anti-dogmatic, strongly innovative, and against prejudice.
For the political problem: We demand:

1. An abolition of the diarchist system, to be replaced with purely ceremonial roles for the Princesses and active governance managed by a shogunate of reliable military officers.
2. The end of the backwards nobility.
3. The formation of a National Council of experts for labor, for industry, for transportation, for the public health, for communications, etc. Selections to be made from the collective professionals or of tradesmen with legislative powers and elected directly to a General Commission with ministerial powers.
4. The disbandment, by force if necessary, of all political parties and institutions that seek to disbar Equestrians of sterling character from the national experience or the benefits thereof on the basis of tribe, species, or any other factor by which the persons in question cannot control.
5. The formation of a new constitution based on the above.

For the social problems: We demand:

1. The quick enactment of a law of the State that sanctions an eight-hour workday for all workers.
2. A minimum wage.
3. The participation of workers' representatives in the functions of industry commissions.
4. To show the same confidence in the labor unions (that prove to be technically and morally worthy) as is given to industry executives or public servants.
5. The rapid and complete modernization of the railways and of all the transport industries.
6. A necessary modification of the insurance laws to invalidate the minimum retirement age; we propose to lower it from 65 to 55 years of age.

For the military problem: We demand:

1. The institution of a national militia with a short period of service for training and exclusively defensive responsibilities.
2. The nationalization of all the arms and explosives factories.
3. A national policy intended to peacefully further the Equestriani national culture in the world.
4. The end of the nation’s dependence on foreign suppliers for her military arms, to replaced by a modern arms industry of Equestriani origin.
5. The abolishment of entangling alliances which serve no purpose but to tie Equestriani interests to the American colossus, thus freeing the nation to pursue her own ambitions peaceably.

For the financial problem: We demand:

1. A strong progressive tax on capital that will truly expropriate a portion of all wealth.
2. The seizure of all the possessions of the noble estates and the abolition of all noble titles, which constitute an enormous liability on the Nation and on the rights of the poor.
3. The revision of all military contracts and the seizure of 85 percent of the profits therein.
4. The protection of Equestriani business through trade policies and tariffs to thus allow the nation’s industries to grow and develop without being crushed by multinational corporations.
5. The institution of a new and advanced welfare system.

It is with this manifesto that we make our name known. Operating in the light and fearless of our fellow Equestrians, unlike our opponents. We proudly proclaim that which we are: the Equestriani Fascist Party.

Dated: June 30, 2043.

---

Manehattan had not seen any improvement over the preceding decade since the Printers had made their celebration of expansion, but instead, it had settled into a stagnant malaise after falling just a little bit farther. Crime and corruption were endemic to the city of ruins now, and hope was a distant memory. Nevertheless, for ponies who had grown up after the city’s fall from grace, it was normal, and it was home, for they had nothing better to compare it to.

Keytone Printer was not one of those ponies, but she fit the category in all but species. She and her brother had grown up in the city, and so to them, it was the norm of how the worlds worked. Of course, thanks to their family’s position as newsponies, they were were aware that such shining utopias as Los Pegasus and Appleloosa existed, but they also knew that places considerably worse than Manehattan abounded as well.

The end of the school day broke Keytone out of her thoughts of towns in other dimensions with craters for potholes. She might not have been a pony, but she she still had work to do after class, and it wouldn’t do to be tardy. That was another one of the facts of life for those in Manehattan: ponies grew up, got their cutie marks, and followed their special talent into the workforce and right out of the city.

The teacher gave her final thoughts for the day, and then the assembled students were left to their own devices. As Keytone was putting her tablet into her bookbag, a brightly colored gryphon tom got up from his seat across the room and waved her down with a smile, clearly wanting to talk with her. The sound of an organic pump rhythmically pulsing briefly filled the young woman’s ears before she forced it down.

Gabriel Graystone was a sixteen year old gryphon whose family was one of the few who had decided to move to Manehattan instead of away from it. Said family had been in Equestria for generations and could trace their lineage all the way back to the retinue of Princess Gemstone. Gabriel himself was strong, kind, generous, loyal, a great friend to Keytone’s brother Brisk, altogether very honorable, and he had a great sense of humor, just to put the frosting on the beefcake. He was, in other words, the sort of stallion you took home to meet your parents and the object of more than a few young mare’s affections.

Keytone glanced to the side at a lightish-red earth pony filly who gave her an enthusiastic grin as she went out the door. Her friend, Champion Pastry, was clearly encouraging her and giving her the go ahead to pursue whatever it was that Gabriel wanted to talk about. It was a welcome change of pace, since the preceding month, Champ had tried to ask Gabriel out and been rejected.

They met out in the hallway.

“Hey, Keytone, how are you doing?” Gabriel asked nonchalantly.

Keytone raised a single eyebrow. “Not jumping straight to the point?”

“I know you’re not your brother,” he said simply and then gestured down the hall.

Keytone nodded thoughtfully and then turned down the hall, Gabriel walking besides her. “No, I am not, which is strange, because you usually rush out the door to talk to my brother about some nicety of baseball or one of those other sports that you boys like to play in on Herald’s Field.”

“It’s mostly baseball. Which, of course, you know, because you helped us clean up the abandoned lot,” Gabriel pointed out cheerily.

“Yeah, that was a good day,” Keytone said wistfully, blushing as she did so. “I admit that I do not not know as much about the game as perhaps I should, though.”

“Well that’s easily rectified. Just come and watch a few games, I’ll even personally invite you to the game on Saturday,” Gabriel offered with a devil-may-care grin.

“Oh, I couldn’t do that. Father is so awfully busy at the paper, and I simply must help him,” the teen declared, shaking her raven locks in denial. “To deny him my service when it has already been promised would be unconscionable.”

“That’s an . . . interesting way of putting it, but I get what you’re saying,” Gabriel reasoned, almost befuddled.

Keytone raised her eyebrows at that for about five seconds, until her eyes went wide and blood rushed across the inside of her skin. “Ah, yes, let’s just leave it at that.”

“Leave what at that?” the familiar voice of Brisk Printer asked.

By this point in their walk, they had reached the main entrance for the school, a voluminous room with tall ceilings and a stairway from the second floor that reminded ponies of an old mansion or ballroom. Indeed, the comparison was apt. In days long passed, the building had hosted many events for the young nobility, and after that, it was the staging ground for the scions of the obscenely wealthy. These days, the standards had been lowered to the point where one could get in merely on a heroic lineage or an atypically successful business, but the events continued in smaller fashion, and the entrance hall still stood just as well-to-do as it ever was.

At this time, there were a lot of other students either milling about or just exiting the building, both under the watchful eyes of the teachers. It was in this conglomeration that Brisk stood in watchful vigil over his youngest siblings as the young foals played with each other, the collars on their woolen school uniforms opened slightly to allow better airflow in the increasingly hot days. Celestia’s sun was seen shining outside through the large wood and glass windows on either side of the entryway, and while in the winter months, the light would stream inside in quite dramatic fashion, the summer months instead saw the hall bathed in a strange sort of dark contrast.

The foals playing at Brisk’s feet were just that, young ponies. Shadow Printer was a pegasus filly and the oldest of the new trio, while Benday Printer and Dot Printer were twin colts who were technically the youngest members of the family. All three had been adopted in two separate instances not long after their older human siblings had started school and had become well integrated into the family, and after a rocky start, the humans had become fairly protective of their young brothers and sister.

That protectiveness, in Brisk’s case, also extended to Keytone. So it was no surprise to either her or Gabriel that his tone was fairly aggressive when he addressed them. His sister would never admit it where he could hear, but she found his expression when he got protective both terrifying and utterly adorable. Adorifying was the word Champion Pastry had used to describe it.

“A simple grammar error on my part, brother. Nothing to get upset about,” Keytone explained sweetly.

Brisk’s eyebrows raised in surprise, and he cocked his head towards Gabriel. “She serious, Gabe?”

“I’m afraid so,” Gabriel admitted.

Brisk got a grin of barely controlled mirth and looked about ready to say something until his littlest sister flew up besides his face.

“Keytone’s here. Can we go now?” Shadow asked, her puce eyes widening somewhat in excitement.

“Yes. Let’s get walking,” Brisk replied easily, turning his head toward his airborne sister with a smile.

“Wait, walking? Where’s Mom?” Keytone asked worriedly.

“You didn’t get the text?”

“No, my phone was off for classes.”

“Her transport got delayed at McQuack, and she won’t be able to pick us up for a while. Since Dad’s still in South Mongolia, it was decided that we should just walk home together. One part of the Green Zone to another, and we’ll be together the whole time.”

“That’s good for you, but I’ve got to be at the office in a few minutes. I promised I would send Dad some information on the People’s Democratic Republic of Koguryo, and I can only do that from there. If I go home first before going to work, then I’ll be late.”

“Well, you can’t go to the paper on your own.”

“Of course not, that’s madness.”

It was then that Gabriel interjected. “I can escort her.”

The squabbling siblings paused and turned their heads to him. “Really? You would do that for me, Gabriel?” Keytone asked with a slightly pleading tone.

“Sure,” the gryphon answered easily. “When have I ever let you guys down?”

“Well, there was that time with the hamburger and hay fries,” Brisk answer cheekily.

“Okay, I’ll grant you that, but in my defense, the hospital ponies did need training on the stomach pumps,” Gabe deflected.

“I won’t accept that, but you’re the only person available I trust to escort my sister to her destination, so go ahead,” Brisk relented. “Just remember, I know where you live.”

---

“Ha ha!” Keytone cheered as she and Gabriel strode away from the academy on a street perpendicular to the road home, her long spindly legs allowing her impressive speed while her brother’s friend flew alongside.

“Well, you seem happy,” Gabe observed with a smile of his own.

“Why should I not? After all, we’ve got to have some time relatively alone,” the young woman said with a gesture at the very few ponies along the sidewalks and the sparse vehicles driving down the road between. Even in the Green Zone, the population hit of the last two decades was noticeable. “And I get to fulfill my duty, with the only worry being some drifter from the Yellow Zone,” she finished.

“Or the Red Zone,” Gabriel theorized.

“Celestia forbid!” Keytone exclaimed. “Anypony who survives out there in that anarchic wasteland is bound to be a character of great ill repute.”

“Or some superhero.”

Keytone paused for a moment in her speech, even as her body kept moving, considering the statement earnestly. “I don’t see the difference in this case. We aren’t seeing anypony being picked up by the police from the Red Zone, which means that the vagabonds there are being killed. That means that what’s going on out there is murderers killing murderers, and you know what the worst part of that is?”

“That nopony cares because the police removed the Red Zone from crime statistics?” Gabe answered without missing a beat.

“Yes!” Keytone replied emphatically. “My father asked some Canterlot noble -- a prince of all things, if memory serves -- if he had anything to say about Manehattan’s high crime rate. He replied that Manehattan’s crime problem was under control and that the city was a model of good urban planning.”

“So they cut apart this city, cook the books, and the city government’s reward is a pat on the head from the nobility?” Gabe said sternly. “Well, they don’t rule this nation; the princesses do. You planning to spread the word about what’s really going on here to get their attention?”

“If not them, maybe us. I mean, take a look around . . .” Keytone said with a sweep of her dominant arm, gesturing to earth ponies and other creatures milling about on old worn streets. “Everypony is always looking for a knight-elemental or some other hero to come and save them, but how are they supposed to rush in here to save the day when we can’t even lift a hoof to save ourselves?”

“Case in point,” Gabe said with a gesture to a poster on a nearby brick building.

It was a striking thing with bold gold and black lines featuring an earth pony rising up to shake free of heavy chains labeled “Made in USA.” One of the pony's hind legs was kicking in the teeth of a red pony sporting a socialist cutie mark that seemed to have been trying to hold him back. Above the pony was an eclipse, and a quote. “Join the EFP” was printed above and below the picture.

“‘Fascism recognizes the real needs that gave rise to socialism and trade-unionism, giving them due weight in the guild or corporative system in which divergent interests are coordinated and harmonized in the unity of the State.’ ~ Benito Mussolini,” Keytone read aloud, pulling back from the wall with an inscrutable expression on her face before continuing along.

“I’m sorry,” Gabe began, flying along behind her. “I know he’s your uncle and everything, but...”

“No, you’re right, he’s turned into a huge jerk,” Keytone interrupted hotly. “You know, that quote he chose for his recruitment poster really says it all. He claims to oppose the Purehooves, but when you read their manifestos, the only things they seem to disagree on is race. Call me crazy, but I don’t want to avoid death just so that I can learn that the government now owns the Manehattan Beugel.”

“... You know, you’re pretty when you’re resolute,” Gabe commented out of the blue.

“What?” Keytone gasped, not breaking her stride per se but stumbling slightly.

“Let’s be honest, Keytone. I’m escorting you on this journey because I have romantic intentions towards you, and you’re going along with it because you have romantic intentions towards me,” Gabriel explained earnestly, beating his wings to fly out in front of Keytone as she walked, his head moving around like it was on a swivel as he did so.

“Well . . . yes. That’s true, I would very much like for you to be my coltfriend, and for me to be your very special someone,” the black-haired young woman admitted.

“I wanted to be the gentlestallion and ask you, but what the heck? I accept,” Gabe said with a devil may care grin.

“It wasn’t a question.”

“Close enough for army work, and you know my family’s all about that.”

“I remember.”

“So, now that we have established a baseline, I would like to reiterate that you are a very pretty girl, Keytone. And you know why?”

“No, but you’re going to tell me,” Keytone said with a blush.

“It’s your spirit, your disposition and mind. Humans are extremely expressive, so your inner beauty shines through to your outside,” Gabe explained.

“Well, that is… that is… That is my stop! Right here!” Keytone stammered, pointing at the painted face of the Manehattan Beugel barely 10 meters away.

“Well, will you look at that? Guess it was closer than we thought,” Gabe said wistfully, looking up at the building.

“I’m sorry,” Keytone said out of the blue.

“What?” Gabe snapped his vision back down to see Keytone hiding her face behind black bangs.

“You called me pretty because of what’s inside, and that’s so corny and sweet I could just die, but if I was asked something similar I would reply your wings. I’ve always wanted a pair, ever since I was a little filly riding on my mother’s back, and I can’t help but feel a little envious and covetous whenever I look at your big strong wings,” the girl admitted. “But that’s not real. I’ll never have wings, and putting my desires onto you is just unhealthy.”

“You are are remarkably cognizant of your own failings,” Gabe observed, setting himself down on the ground with his wings and tail extended out to allow him to stand on his rear paws and be level with the human.

“Yes, but I’m also aware that this,” Keytone began, taking the gryphon’s talons in her hands, “is real, and it isn’t unhealthy. I have no idea what the future might hold, but right now, I want to face it with you.”

Then, before Gabe could reply, Keytone closed her eyes and bumped her nose into the tip of Gabe’s beak. She then let go and quickly moved away.

“I know humans don’t normally show affection like that, but I was raised by ponies! Please don’t think I’m a whore!” Keytone said cheerily with great alacrity as she bounded into the building.

Gabe stared at the doors that Keytone had disappeared behind for a few seconds before dropping back down onto fours. “Well, I don’t know about anyone else, but I think that went better than I could have hoped,” the gryphon said before taking flight.

---

“You booped his snoot?!” Shadow gasped later on that night as the Printer family sat around for dinner.

“Could you please not describe it like that?” Keytone asked, her face blushing furiously as she tried to distract herself by stabbing her fork into what looked vaguely like meat but must not have been, because the ponies in the room were eating it with aplomb.

“But that’s what you did! You booped him right in the snoot!” Shadow declared with the firm certainty her young age brought her.

“It’s called an Eskimo kiss, and it's perfectly normal,” Keytone explained emphatically.

“Fillies, don't fight, it's unladylike,” Ardent told them sternly. “Now, Keytone, what did you tell Gabriel that put you into such an emotional state?”

Keytone’s blush deepened slightly, this time in shame, but before she could say anything, Brisk interrupted. “Can I just say that I am amazed your first coltfrend was the one guy in the worlds I wouldn't first think to kick the butt of?”

“Don’t interrupt, Brisk,” Ardent chastised her son. “Though he does bring up a good point that this is surprising. I would have thought you put off by Gabriel's want to join the military -- just like his father before him, and his father before him, and so forth -- given how much you were going on about that non-aggression principle.”

“It’s not a violation of the NAP to not be a jerk to military personnel!” Keytone defended hotly, her face by now glowing red. “Besides, Gabriel is different from anypony I know. He’s kind, generous, loyal, honest, funny, a great friend to everypony, and generally a good sort. He’s everything I could want, and he wants me. What more could I want?”

After finishing her speech she went back to eating her food, but not before muttering a continuation. “Not to mention that all the ponies I know think I stink.”

“We don’t think you stink, big sister,” Benday said helpfully.

“We’re her brothers; we don’t count,” Brisk supplied helpfully as Keytone just tried to eat her food.

“Since when?” Benday shot back.

“We’re talking about Keytone becoming the Deirdre Lear to Gabe’s Kai Allard-Liao. Do you really want to count for that situation?” Brisk asked.

“What?” Benday said flatly.

“I count for a Kirghiz, right?!” Dot asked excitedly.

“Hundred ton Clan OmniFighter?” Brisk asked rhetorically, looking his younger brother up and down and finding that he was still a rather average sized earth pony foal. “Yeah, I can see it.”

The conversation drifted even further away from where it started as dinner continued, which suited Brisk just fine. It was his duty to protect his sister, after all. He would get an answer out of her later, no matter how long it took.

---

“It was the wing thing again, wasn’t it?”

Keytone stiffened a little, startled, as the two of them stood in the hallway outside the bathroom. They were switching out use of the shower as, of course, the last members of the family to wash up for the night. This meant that they were wearing only towels, and the burning frustration and annoyance that only family could induce.

“Got it in one,” the girl whispered in reply.

“That isn’t good, sis. I don’t want you to get hurt, but Gabe’s still my best friend, and I don’t want him hurt either,” Brisk sighed quietly.

“I don’t plan on hurting him,” Keytone insisted, keeping her voice low.

“Nopony plans on these things, sis; they just happen.”

Keytone turned her head to look him in the eyes, her own narrowing. “You don’t have any experience on that matter, brother. You’ve rejected everypony that has attempted to engage you romantically before even giving them a chance.”

“Not my intention, but it does prove my point,” Brisk noted.

Keytone let out an exasperated sigh in response. “Duly noted, brother. I will be careful not to make this situation any more awkward for you than it already is.”

“Safety, I was going for safety,” Brisk mumbled as he opened the door to the bathroom.

“Tact isn’t your strong suit, brother,” Keytone reminded him as the door closed.

Brisk kept quiet as he went about his nightly ablutions. His sister was, of course, right. He always had been a bit of a hot head, but he was trying to work on fixing that. The problem, from his perspective anyway, was that everypony else just kept getting into trouble, and he had to pull their flanks out of the fire, not that he minded.

As he stepped into the shower, a thought struck him. Keytone had gotten a coltfriend, his own best friend, maybe it was time he did the same? Perhaps his sister's best friend to add symmetry to their relationship?

Just as soon as the thought struck him, though, it was dismissed prima facia. Champion Pastry was a nice young mare, but that’s all she was. Indeed, upon further examination, he found that he could not think of anypony he could imagine himself with romantically. There was just too much to do in his life at that time, and the future held too many unknowns.

The case for that was made abundantly clear just a few seconds later when Brisk found himself scrawling a picture into the condensation covered side of the shower. He looked at the relatively thin, finger formed lines and smiled. Wasting no further time, he finished washing as fast as possible and leapt out of the shower to dry with great aplomb.

In his rush to get back to his own bedroom, he only briefly remembered not to slam the open the door for fear of waking his brothers. In like Flynn, he soon went about his business. Snug in his bed, that business was found in his sketchbook, a thick binder full of paper pages covered in multicolored pictures in various stages of completion.

He chose his H pencil and began working. His hand moved lightly and carefully to lay the framework he saw in his mind’s eye just a few minutes prior. With all the rapidity due from excitement, Brisk made good on his name and quickly finished the foundation. He then switched to a darker pencil and gave the picture definition.

When he thought himself done, he laid down his implement and looked to his left. His brothers were still asleep in their bunk bed, Benday and Dot having grown accustomed to their older sibling's bouts of nighttime inspiration. He smiled at their youthful slumber and then turned back to his work.

The picture wound up being a winged human female rising up from a dark valley. Her wings were outstretched to catch the rays of a bright sun that shown behind her, in the picture’s upper right. Her face expressed nothing but joy and elation, and her arms were outstretched likewise.

It was, he decided, a perfectly adequate picture. It was certainly a good basis to build off of, but he could see a few flaws that others could point out. Perhaps foremost of them was that the figure in the picture was nude, but that was only a problem thanks to the dominant American image hosting sites having strange standards about nudity.

That was a problem for tomorrow, though, for that night there was only sleep.

---

The next day found Brisk and Gabe walking together through the city, on their way to the local party store. Indeed, some said that it was the last party store left in the whole city.

“How long has it been since we’ve done something like this?” Brisk asked.

“Oh, since your birthday, if I remember right,” Gabe answered.

“That long? And it’s a welcome home party for my dad on tomorrow of all days that breaks the months-long streak of nothing. Huh, do you think it’s strange that we’re not celebrating that much?” the human mused.

“Not particularly. After all, this is neither Ponyville nor Canterlot, and I’m not the Element of Laughter.”

Brisk paused long enough to confirm that his gryphon friend still looked like he was ripped straight from an old Royal Guard recruitment poster, albeit sans the trademarked gold-colored armor and the single red feather under the right eye that his grandfather could never get rid of and the artist decided to leave in. “Clearly,” he deadpanned.

“Hey now, just because I don’t look the part doesn’t mean I don't know how to throw a real humdinger of a hoedown!” Gabe said with a fake accent and an arm swing. At Brisk’s embarrassed expression, the gryphon relented. “Okay, so I can’t do an accent, but at least I know the way to the store where we can get supplies for your dad’s welcome home party. Who else could could do that?”

“Any search engine, online retailer, or 3D printer,” Brisk answered without missing a beat.

“Ah, but could any of those things be as good a conversationalist as me?” Gabe countered

“If they have an AI. At the very least, I could tell them not to take me by this sorry place,” Brisk complained with a gesture towards the burnt building covered in tarps and scaffolding they were passing at that moment.

“'Engaging Night’s Midtown Art Gallery, coming back April, 2039.’ Well, they’re six years too late there,” Gabe read aloud as he looked at the bleached sign hanging from the wooden barricade surrounding the dilapidated building.

“More like eighteen,” Brisk commented. “This place was hit during the First Contact Riots, and they still haven't repaired it.”

“Common story for half the city there. So what's the difference with this one?” Gabe asked curiously.

“My mom’s got some pieces in there. I’ve never seen them. Heck, I don't even know if they're still in one piece, or even legible,” the human lamented.

“Planning a break in?” Gabe asked.

“. . . What?”

“I’m just saying that, since no one cares . . .”

Gabe stopped mid-sentence as a loud pop split the air. Every other pedestrian on the street paused for a brief moment too, then they went back to what they were doing before. The pop was quickly forgotten by most.

“Car backfire, got to be,” Brisk said conversationally.

“No, that was a gunshot,” Gabe replied.

“How can you tell?”

“The echo’s different. You got to listen for that.”

“Fair enough . . . We should get going.”

“Of course.” Gabe said.

The gryphon and human resumed their route, once again walking along the street towards their destination. It would be a few more minutes before they reached it. No sense dallying more than they already had.

“So I got another application for the team today,” Gabe started.

“Oh, who was it?” Brisk asked.

“Shooting Star; he’s got an incredible fastball,” Gabe explained.

“Maybe, but is it going to be enough to beat Tartarus Flames High next week?”

“No, but we’ve got enough good players already to carry the day. He’s going to be great in time, I know it.”

The pair turned the corner, finally bringing the party store in view.

“Well, end of the road, for you maybe,” Gabe commented.

“Planning to bump me off?” Brisk asked somewhat seriously.

“No, I’m being literal,” Gabe replied, pointing to the far end of the street where, at the opposite intersection, the green dividing line met a freshly painted yellow line. Traffic, of course, now refused to go down that quarter of the intersection on either car or foot. This was highlighted by the ponies traveling across three crosswalks in a gigantic arc rather than going across the one sidewalk that crossed over the road with the yellow dividing line.

“Well, that’s depressing,” Brisk sighed, unconsciously checking to make sure the pepper spray canister stored inside his coat was still there. “Expected, but depressing. At least the party store isn’t in the Yellow Zone yet.”

“I guess the 30% Green Zone, 50% Yellow Zone, 20% Red Zone number is official now then,” Gabe lamented.

“I guess so . . .Listen, Gabe. We’re friends, best friends, known each other for years, right?” Brisk asked strangely when they were but ten meters from the store.

“Yes, that’s already been established,” Gabe replied, acknowledging the obvious.

“Good, but with all that said, I just wanted to let you know that if you ever hurt my sister, I’ll beat you to death with a shovel,” Brisk threatened casually.

“Would never think of it, but just so we’re clear, which sister? Twin sister?” Gabe asked curiously.

“Twin sister,” Brisk clarified.

“OK, good. Because you know you’ve given me this speech before right? And that you have more than one sister?” Gabe inquired.

“I know, but it’s relating to your romantic relationship now.”

“Thought so. Just wanted to be clear there, though.”

“Perfectly understandable. It is an important issue.”

“Shall we get the supplies now?”

“Oh, assuredly, dear friend.”

---

After the party supplies had been delivered, Gabe decided to make like most good prospective male companions and take his girlfriend to an ice cream shop. It was an event that, for two people so notable in the community, received much notice. While most was praise, the law of large numbers dictated that not all would be so.

“Observe, Comrade. What do you see?” an earth pony mare wearing a red bandana asked of her friend as they sat at a table at an outdoor cafe across the street from the popular frozen dessert establishment.

“Bourgeois, capitalists, and capitalist-bourgeois, comrade,” her unicorn mare companion, wearing a red foreleg band, replied.

The earth pony’s face became flat. “Yes, this is one of the wealthiest neighborhoods in the city. What else do you see?”

“Oh, well, there’s ponies walking together and eating together and . . .” Foreleg Band said before her face contorted with disgust. “Hurk!”

“Hold it in, comrade,” Bandana ordered.

“But it’s a baby-snatcher and a stick kissing!” Foreleg Band hissed. “With their noses! In public!”

“Yes, comrade, now you see the true disgusting form of the upper crust, and that the race struggle and the class struggle are inexorably linked,” Bandana explained.

“Oh, my classless society! She just booped his snoot, in public!”

“Please focus,” Bandana pleaded. “And don’t call it that.”

“Sorry,” Foreleg Band said, snapping her around to look at the mare across the table from her. “What were you saying?”

“I was saying that the class struggle and the race struggle can not be separated. That just as we struggle to overthrow the princesses, we must struggle to do away with the other species. That just as a war between the species over land and even the very ability to reproduce is a scientific truth and inevitable conclusion, so too is the class war where the proletariat overthrows the nobles and merchants a . . . Hey, are you listening?”

Foreleg Band had gone back to watching the gryphon male and human female on the date, her head not evening turning to look at her companion this time. “I’m sorry, it’s just that they’ve started eating out of the same bowl and . . . Oh, by the glorious flanks of the working pony, he’s booping her snoot now too? That’s disgusting! I have to go to the water closet now!”

As Foreleg Band rushed away from the table, Bandana slammed her face into the table in frustration. “Ugh, why do I even bother?” she cursed before her eyes shot open, and she turned her head to find a waitress staring at her with wide, and enthusiastic, eyes. “How much did you hear?”

“Enough, and I totally agree with you about the class/species intersection,” the waitress said quietly but cheerfully.

“Ah! Finally, somepony gets it!” Bandana cheered.

“And I really think that somepony should go teach those degenerate Printers a lesson.”

Bandana’s head hit the table again.

“I’ll bring it up at the next meeting,” she relented.

“Yay!”

---

“So do you have a fillyfriend?” Fit asked of his son as he sat down besides him.

They were at the party, and everyone was getting down with their bad selves to the beat of Strummin’ Bass’s Grooving Orchestra. Emphasis on bad in Gabriel’s case, for while the gryphon had many talents, dancing was not one of them. Keytone didn't seem mind though, as she was laughing and dancing right alongside him, in spite of the tangle of limbs that the studio floor had devolved into.

Brisk himself had decided to sit the song out after a close encounter of the unpleasant kind with Champion Pastry. It might have been an embarrassing spot to be in during a party, but it was certainly less painful than the alternative. His father had at the very least found it convenient for conversation.

“No, sir,” Brisk answered neutrally, not having to bend his neck much at all to meet his father's eyes while they were both sitting in chairs.

“Eh, give it time. I was the same way when I was your age. Always had something to do, always had to be there for my family, and never had any time for romance,” Fit assured his son.

“You once told me you were a coward before us," -- Brisk frowned -- "so does that mean . . . ?”

“Oh no!" his father cut him off. "That wasn’t what I was calling you at all.”

“You used those exact words though, coward.”

“Word, singular. And I was just being hard on myself. Even if you are more assertive than I was at your age.”

“Ah . . . So, what changed then?”

“Not much; I just wasn’t very good at it before. You learn to get good at what you do fast when you have a family. Not that I saw myself having a family way back then. Before I met your mother, I never would have thought myself to be able to do things that I do, raising you and your siblings most of all,” Fit said wistfully.

“If it's any consolation, I think you're you’re the best dad I've ever known,” Brisk said appreciatively.

“I'm the only dad you've ever known,” Fit reminded his son.

“Not true, sir. I've known plenty of other dads, and I wouldn't have wanted to be adopted by any other than you,” Brisk affirmed with a steady voice.

“Shucks. You really know how to make your old man feel welcome,” Fit said with a chuckle, wrapping a foreleg around his son.

The brief moment was broken by the father reminding his son of some unpleasant truths.

“The world is changing, son, and I just want you to know that, should anything happen to us, Just News is still your godfather. That means you go to him when we kick the bucket, assuming we do so before you hit your 18th birthday. If it happens after, you're to go meet him all the same,” Fit informed him.

“Why not Uncle Mac?” Brisk asked him curiously.

“Mac is never around in a place you can find him. Better to go with the pony that you always know about than the guy who spends half his life in the shadows,” Fit explained.

“Do you think something bad is going to happen, sir?” Brisk asked.

“Maybe, the world is changing. Just today, I got the two letters. One of them was a demand that I disown you and Keytone. The other was a demand for me to muzzle my daughter and to contain her to her quarters for such gross displays of inter-species affection. I, of course, denied both, but it's another sign that groups like the Purehooves are growing in power, and that worries me,” Fit said, shaking his head. “That's why I want you, Keytone, Shadow, Benday, and Dot to all understand what to do in case of an emergency. Because if the country is lost, that's terrible, but if I lose you, I don't know what I would do.”

“In this scenario, you would be dead,” Brisk pointed out.

Fit sighed in befuddlement at his son's words.

The pair were interrupted from further conversation by Champion Pastry approaching them with two pieces of cake sitting on her back. “Mr. Printer, I just wanted to say, welcome back to Manehattan; we've all missed you here. And Brisk, I'm real sorry about what happened on the dance floor,” the blue earth pony mare said remorsefully.

“Don't worry about it, Champion. It was an honest mistake that anyone can make,” Brisk assured her with the wave of his hand.

“We will take that cake though,” Fit said cheerfully.

Champion offered them the plates on her back. They took them, and she went back to the rest of the party. When she was safely out of hearing range, Fit leaned over to his son. “Legs still hurt?”

“Oh, they're killing me. I'm going to be walking with a limp for the next few days,” Brisk admitted with humor.

---

Brisk's prediction turned out to be correct, as by the time school was letting out for the final time before summer vacation just a few days later, he was indeed still walking strange.

“I’m still really sorry about what happened, Brisk,” Champion apologized for what must have been the twentieth time since the party.

Brisk’s only reply was a low growl.

“Champion, at this point, the bruising has gone mostly away, and the swelling is soon to follow. Just stop apologizing for the same thing over and over again. That will get him to lighten up,” Keytone informed her, making Brisk grunt in affirmation. “See?”

“Oh, I guess I should stop with the apology cakes too,” Champion said shamefully.

“She didn't say that!” Dot declared, the three siblings walking alongside the four friends on the way to meet their mother.

“Yeah! Stop putting words in Keytone's mouth!” Shadow agreed.

“We are getting a bit fat here,” Brisk said.

“You are delirious with pain!” Benday shouted.

A bout of laughter erupted from Gabriel as he watched the proceedings. “You guys should go on tour with this act.”

“I assure you that this is no act,” Brisk said with overdramatic calm. “If it was, it would have more pies.”

There was a snorted laugh from up above, and group of seven looked up to see Ardent Printer with a large passenger cart strapped to her mid-section. She had, somehow, managed to sneak up on them.

“Hi, Mom!” five of the group cheered, with slight variations.

Ardent waved her hoof and then descended, bringing the cart to a gentle rest on the ground. “Hi, kids!” she cheered in kind. “How is everyone today?”

The answers she got were a mixture of acknowledgements in the positive.

“Say, Mom,” Keytone began, “you look like you’re working really hard to pull that cart. Why not let me just walk to the paper, and Gabriel can escort me?”

Ardent looked put off for a moment, but then a sly smile crossed her face. “Oh, yes, dear, that sounds lovely. You two go right along then. You do have protection, though, right?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Keytone and Gabriel said in unison, pulling aside their uniform jackets to reveal holsters with spray cans full of irritants inside. Ardent was obviously pleased at the sight.

“You’ve never shown signs of strain before, Mother. Has something happened?” Brisk asked worriedly.

“Brisk, it’s a pretense,” Champion Pastry hissed.

“What’s a presense?” Shadow asked.

“Didn’t she say presence?” Benday asked.

“No, honey, nothing has happened. It’s just that I could use some lighter work today. In fact, removing the weight of one human female should be just what I need,” Ardent explained with a wink.

“. . . Oh! Oh, yes, that should be something of an easy fix then,” Brisk replied quickly. “Well then, we should be off!”

Brisk reached down and picked Benday and Dot into his arms, bringing them into the cart before he too leapt in. Shadow merely launched herself into the cart with a burst of kinetic energy from the feathered wings on back. They buckled themselves in and waved goodbye before their mother and the cart attached to her took off.

Gabriel, Keytone, and Champion waved goodbye to them as well, but soon, they were out of sight, flying over the building tops. With the family gone, the gryphon and human filly took their leave as well, walking out of the parking lot and into the streets. That left only the lightish-red earth pony, alone with distant strangers and her thoughts.

“I hope my mom is OK,” she said absently to herself, “and not, you know, murdered in her car or something.”

“Oh I hate it when that happens,” a random earth pony colt agreed from what must have been five meters away.

Champion Pastry just rolled her eyes at the black joke.

---

“So, you’re still planning to join the military?” Keytone asked as she and Gabe traveled down the street.

“Yes, are you planning to stop me?” Gabe answered seriously.

“No. I don’t like killing, but having weapons and using them are two completely different things. Besides, I don’t think that peace is going away anytime soon, thanks to the grand American umbrella of NATO, even the BRICKS nations exist under that umbrella and have no wish to upset it,” the black-maned girl mused logically.

“Yeah, peace and stability looks pretty invincible for Equestria now. Nothing but small scale conflicts and posturing from here on out,” Gabe said semi-sarcastically.

“You don’t believe it will last?” Keytone asked.

“No, I don’t. I can’t explain it, but I just know that war is coming,” Gabriel said with a shake of his head. “When it does come, I want to make sure you’re safe, and then I want to end it as quickly as possible to keep you that way.”

“By killing?” Keytone inquired pointedly.

“Perhaps, or more likely, by finding some sort of magic artifact or making a new friend to make whatever is causing the war go away,” Gabe replied with good cheer. “After all, this is Equestria, and friendship is magic here.”

Keytone laughed. “That is an odd little quirk of our history, isn’t it?”

“Indeed,” Gabe said with a laugh of his own. “Listen, Keytone Printer, if I could be so bold, I love you, and as soon as we finish school . . .”

Gabriel never got to finish his sentence. Out of the blue, a simple steel pipe rushed towards him, one end cloaked in an aura of blue energy. It hit the back of his neck with a bang like a gong, punctuated by the sickening crack.

The couple was barely able to scream before a second pipe came in and hit Keytone in the shins. She hit the concrete of the sidewalk with a terrible cry, blood spraying everywhere. Her uniform skirt darkened with blood, and what could be seen beneath took an odd and unnatural shape.

Out of the shadows of a nearby alleyway, six ponies emerged, two unicorns and four earth ponies, all dressed head to hoof in red hooded tracksuits with balaclavas pulled over their muzzles. They surrounded the fallen couple and brandished knives and clubs.

Incredibly, Gabriel was still able to move and tried to swipe at one of them with his claws. The red-clad thug jumped back, and one of his companions repaid the heroic gryphon for his trouble with a slash by a large knife across his face.

“Get away from him, you bastards!” Keytone managed to scream out. She was rewarded for her trouble by the same pipe that had broken her legs hitting her in the chin. The pain, or anything else, didn’t seem to register for her.

The next blows came too fast and too furiously for either of them to contemplate, metal-shod hooves joining in the frenzy alongside blade and club. It seemed like every bone in their bodies was being broken, and of course, there was blood everywhere, but these were merely guesses on the part of their addled minds.

The red-clad thugs did not seem fazed by it at all. The red of the blood and the red of their clothes blended in well together. Strangely, it made them seem as if they had merely run through the rain rather than what was actually happening.

There was another crack and a splatter, and for some reason, Keytone felt some great pain in her chest. Academically, it didn’t make much sense for her, since so far, the blows had been coming down from above. Though maybe she could have been turned over once or twice that she didn’t know about?

Why was she on the ground again?

One of the unicorns growled at his companion. “Idiot!” he cursed. “You overstepped, and now it will have to be the girl who delivers the message.”

He turned to face Keytone, giving her a view of his upper face, which unlike everything else, was rendered in perfect clarity that burned itself into her memory like a brand. His fur was blue, and his right eye was covered by an eye patch as black as the heart of Nightmare Moon. His left eye was red and stared at her with a hatred she didn’t think any creatures were capable of.

“This is what happens to liars and race mixers who stand in the way of the working pony’s revolution,” he said simply before rushing off with his companies.

. . . Are those sirens?

Author's Note:

Missteps: I can not into romance. It is one human emotion that I simply cannot grasp in any meaningful respect. Thus, writing this chapter was like squeezing stomach acid from a stone, and it took quite some time to write it. It seemed like nothing would get done until it was suggested that I switch the focus to Brisk, so that the story would be about someone reacting to romance instead of someone actually engaging with a romantic venture. Things worked out at least possibly in the end.

Successes: I was able to simply get this chapter done without screwing it up too much. Sometimes survival is its own reward, so to speak.