A weapon lands in Ponyville. A living weapon. Bound and changed, she fought her world's gravest threat. Now she's free, for all the good it did her. She is called Painwheel: a raging monster with the heart of a little girl. Will she find peace? Or more tragedy?
She first became cognizant of warmth. A casual, pleasing sensation bathing her skin. Next came chirping, from somewhere nearby, and a gentle breeze wafting across her brow. Leaves rustled in the wind. A strand of hair fell because of the breeze, and she moved a hand up to manage it, absentmindedly.
This effort made the girl cognizant of two more things. First, that the leather stitched to her face was still there. The second was the squirming, biting ache shooting up her arm when it was forced into action. She sucked air, cringing in alarm, then settled once more as memory flooded back. She clutched her mask, feeling it against her fingers, then let it drop to the ground. Inside her arm, hand, and shoulder, the squirming continued, before stilling. Across the rest of her body, her involuntary body tension elicited further twinges. These too settled, yet seemed more rigid than before. Prepared to move as needed. The girl sighed sadly.
The parasites were awake. And Painwheel was perfectly aware of them again, her drowsiness banished.
The living weapon lay on her side, feeling the warm rays above, the cool grass below, and the offensive sensations within. There was a dull ache on the side in contact with the ground, and instinct suggested to turn over, lest she suffer bed sores. Not that she was on a bed, she noted, slowly fingering blades of grass. But Painwheel knew if she tried, the Gae Bolga would protest, and she was hardly in the mood to bear such discomfort. It was too early in the...
What time of day was it exactly? Braving a turn of the head, she directed her closed eyes upward and noted the redness that accompanied light moving as it could through her lids. It was uncomfortable – for more reasons than one – so she turned back to the ground.
Midday, she guessed, or thereabouts. Not that it mattered. Painwheel wanted more than ever to just maintain her position, unmoving as manageable, and let the world beyond her flesh tend to its own affairs.
Just let me sleep, she thought, eating more pain so as to cover her eyes with her hand. I could almost trick myself into believing I'm still in my bed. That none of it happened.
She shook her head, braving the resulting crinks of the neck and pain. It was no good thinking about it. Just stay still, and let blissful sleep take hold.
An indeterminate amount of time passed before Painwheel sighed. She wanted so much to alleviate that ache at her side, to turn over. But then the parasites and her moving them around would abuse her nerves further. And there was no turning over anyway, what with the Buar Drive on her back. She issued the mental command, and the mechanical device connected to her spine shook, the blades tilting a bit. This at least caused little pain.
But doing that killed exactly five seconds of her attention before the persistent ache caught it again. Painwheel sighed more loudly, then slammed her hand down on the ground, wincing at the duel pain in her arm and her eyes at the light.
She wasn't going to get any sleep at that rate, so she decided not to bother. As she climbed to her hands and feet, she realized she didn't remember when or where she'd lost consciousness in the first place. Where had she passed out, and why was it outside?
Painwheel blinked, adjusting to the light. She looked around, raising the Buar Drive on her back so its cross-shaped blades moved with her back, like a cumbersome metal tail. A meadow of green grass and colorful flowers surrounded her, hilly and lit by an unobstructed sun. A tree was nearby, casting inviting shade beneath it.
The girl took in the sight. What pretty flowers, she thought, marveling at their lively hues. She still didn't know where she was, nor remember what she'd been doing before her nap. But better to wake in such a field than in the lab. Painwheel breathed deeply, letting her body relax, which thankfully caused the Gae Bolga to loosen. She could almost stand the dull ache, standing as she was.
“Mommy! Mommy! We're here! We're here!”
“Alright, dear, I'm coming.”
The voices shocked Painwheel to attention, causing her to turn around. People? Here? Her heart raced in alarm, setting those damnable parasites to attention. And the content of the vocalizations...they were so familiar...
Two people came over the hill. Painwheel stiffened, but then blinked in confusion. Scratch it, they were equines. Horses. No, two ponies. An excitable bouncing colt, baby blue fur, and a satchel-ladden mare, dull pink. Such a singularly unusual sight arrested Painwheel's movement in surprise.
Of course, animal people weren't uncommon in Canopy Kingdom. Carol lived – or rather, Painwheel had lived – next door to a family of talking, anthropomorphic dogs. The father was a banker; he wore a suit. So the existence of talking animals wasn't out of the question. But talking, pastel-colored ponies? That was new on her.
The little one began tugging on his mother's foreleg. “Come on! It's right here!” He looked over, expecting to take in the sight. What he found was Painwheel.
“Alright settle down,” the mare said, shaking her head. She noted his sudden stop, striking a bemused grin. “Oh I know it's a beautiful sight, isn't...” She looked up too, also locking eyes on the most interesting sight around. Her smile died.
Profound dread shot through Painwheel, tightening her chest. Her heart raced. She squirmed under those staring eyes, frozen as they were.
The three stood on the hill, taking in each other. Moving nary a muscle between them. A few meters distant, the birds in their tree fell silent. They too sensed tension in the air.
Painwheel tried to step backwards, but as her foot landed the still-stiff angle clicked audibly. Too distracted, Painwheel lost her footing and stumbled to one knee. She grunted loudly, made no softer by the preceding silence.
The colt yelped, sinking closer to his mother, who gasped, wrapping her leg around him protectively. The human looked to them, shaking with pain. The ponies started backing up slowly.
“Wait!” choked Painwheel, her voice hoarse and harsh. She extended a hand, wincing at the pain in her flesh.
“Mommy I'm scared!” the colt sobbed, keeping his wide, huge eyes on the bizarre amalgam of flesh and metal and pain.
“S-stay back!” yelled the mare, pulling her son along as they tried to add distance.
It wasn't going well. It was going like every other time. They were afraid. Painwheel knew they had every right to be. Unwashed, bony figure; tattered qipao barely concealing muscles accented by black, sickly veins. Heavy iron manacles on her wrists and ankles. Terrifying leather mask, and possibly more terrifying cross-shaped rotating blades attached by a coil of metal sticking out her back. Bright red eyes, and nails in her shoulders, thighs, and head. Technically they weren't nails, but rather extensions of the parasites in her body, but they looked like nails, and that was just plain damn creepy. In fact, plain damn creepy described Painwheel perfectly, a fact she hated.
She rose up to her feet again, reaching out again. “I don't...”
“MONSTER!” the mare shrieked, losing all composure. She lifted the boy and threw him onto her back. As the colt frantically clung to his mother, she bolted. “Monster! Somepony help! Monster!”
Painwheel gasped, faltering. She watched the ponies flee, a heavy weight forming in her chest. “No...” she whispered, frowning behind her thick mask. “No please...” She collapsed to her hands and knees, gripping the grass with trembling digits. Her entire body shook, wet sobs issuing from her mouth. “Not again...please not again...no...”
Painwheel remembered. Remembered what she was doing before.
Hours Ago
It had taken all night and into the morning, but she didn't care. She'd done it. Carol had found her way home. She couldn't be more excited. She'd done it.
Everyone who stood in her way? Kicked aside. Many had tried to challenge her, but they went down. Even Filia...poor Filia. No, Carol shook her head. She was going to be happy. She beat everyone up, all the annoying, loud, boorish freaks. All the fools gunning for that prize. Even the nurse that made her this way went down. That bitch. Shook off Brain Drain's control; his presence in her mind long since pushed out, without any sign of further attempts to regain control. Wherever he was, it wasn't Carol's problem. She wasn't his slave anymore.
Even the Skullgirl was dead. Painwheel had taken pleasure in cutting into her, smashing that maid's bones. Tearing away every ounce of the shell housing her core, the Skull Heart.
It had promised her anything, offered to fulfill any wish. But Painwheel didn't bite. It had ruined her life, simply by being the prize others sought and became monsters doing it. It got the business end of her fist, damn Skull Heart.
Illusion my ass, she thought. I don't need you. I'm free, and my parents are waiting. I just know it.
Rounding the bend, she could make out the familiar landmarks of her suburban neighborhood. She traced the path down the street, and saw it. Her house, the lights still on. Carol's wretched feet carried her forward, her heart leaping for joy. After the lab, after the fights, after the experiments, after the mind control, after all that pain...it was over.
I'm free! I'm home!
She knocked at the door, then walked in. Carol saw them; her mom and dad were there. As she stepped into the doorway, they saw her too.
“Mom, Dad...” Carol said, calling out to them. “...It's me.”
“M-MONSTER!” her father shouted. Beside him, her mother held up her arm defensively.
Carol held her hand up. No! No, this wasn't how it was supposed to go! She tried to speak, but nothing came out.
“GET OUT OF HERE, MONSTER!” he scowled, wrapping his big arm around his wife, putting her behind him. Sweat fell down his face, and that of his wife.
Carol's heart collapsed. The emotion was more agonizing than any pain of the flesh she'd experienced.
She ran.
Carol ran as far and as hard as her legs could carry her.
Eventually, the strain of running became too much. The entire day previous had been a slog, physically exhausting and mentally draining. Add a night of walking and now her run, and Carol couldn't do it anymore. She fell to her hands and knees, gasping and huffing and sobbing as she went.
When she could force a big enough breath into her lungs, she released a tortured scream. She didn't know where she stopped, didn't know what she might disturb. She didn't care. She screamed and screamed, crying out at such volume that heaven itself would tremble. Her throat burned, another pain to add to her plentiful inventory.
“AAAAAAHHH!”
It wasn't fair. She did everything right. She even killed the Skullgirl like she was created to. She payed her dues, suffered for everyone else. Suffered more than her fair share for the fight against the world-destroying bitch. Even fought her own best friend.
And in the end, why can't she just have her life back? Why?
“Why! WHY WHY WHY! AAAAAAAAHHHH!!!” she screamed, pounding the ground with her fists.
She struck the ground one last time, then left herself there, trembling. “...why couldn't they see me...?” A strangled sob escaped her lips, muffled further by leather.
Despair. A sadness so deep it collapsed in on itself and turned into a black hole. Painwheel knelt there, sinking in it. She felt like just letting it swallow her.
Then she felt that familiar, mercurial intelligence creeping up to her. Pulling at her mind. It's voice came out, clear as it was demonic.
“Painwheel, return to Lab Zero – we have much to discuss.”
Brain Drain didn't entreat into her mind any further. He stayed there, just at the gate, looking in. Painwheel realized what he was doing. She threw his commands, his programming, off the first time. He decided to eschew another takeover; abandon a greater investment of mental resources whose payoff was uncertain.
No, this was not an order. It was an offer. And damn him, because he'd probably waited for just such a moment to make it.
Damn him. Damn Brain Drain. Damn that bastard, and the nurse, and the maid, and damn the Skull Heart.
I TOLD YOU. NOTHING HAS CHANGED.
Painwheel could feel another presence. But this didn't come from outside, and it wasn't the cool, collected malice of Brain Drain. It came from within, and was darker. Deader. Utterly empty. Painwheel felt it in her blood.
YOUR LIFE IS RUINED. MISERABLE. IT'S THEIR FAULT. LAB ZERO.
She hadn't destroyed the Heart. It was inside her. Latched onto the Skullgirl blood she was infused with. Could Brain Drain hear the Skull Heart in her head? She didn't know. All she knew...was that she couldn't disagree.
I'LL MAKE THE OFFER AGAIN. I CAN GIVE YOU WHAT YOU DESIRE.
There was nothing inside. No point in anything. Carol...Carol had nothing. Was nothing. She might as well be dead.
WHAT IS IT YOU WANT?
Before she could even properly digest the question, Painwheel felt the ground give way underneath her. Weight lost all meaning, then pulled her down. She gasped, looking up at a rapidly shrinking hole in the...
Painwheel looked around, back and forth from her egress point. She saw plenty, and had no idea what any of it was.
She had once read that long ago, seafarers of a greater civilization touched down on new lands, and encountered the natives. The natives, never having seen sailing ships before, looked upon them with utter confusion. Their brains, without reference points, could make neither heads nor tails of the visual information being supplied. They couldn't begin to describe or even comprehend what they saw, though a seafaring vessel would not have been their first guess.
Painwheel witnessed a panorama of colors and shapes. Kaleidoscopic visions swimming before her eyes without rhyme or reason; without scale or perspective. As she tried to focus, the blurs shifted to a series of shapes, ones she could only take in a bit at a time.
She looked “up”, back to where she had been, only to see an expansive circle shrinking away from her. No, not a circle, a sphere. Painwheel could see many spheres around her, or strings of spheres like beads. But they were spheres that weren't spheres, shapes that seemed to shift and change, not as a process of time but as a function of attempting to discern what the hell they were given her experience with only three spatial dimensions.
Painwheel clutched her head, screaming. She couldn't be entirely sure she was making any noise. Or indeed if she wasn't hearing sounds that her mind refused to process for its own sanity. It could already be loud as hell, and she'd never hear anything.
QUICKLY MISERABLE ONE. WHAT IS YOUR WISH?
Except that apparently. The call of the Skull Heart shook her from the existential horror, which was helpful because Painwheel suspected she had been going mad.
MAKE YOUR WISH NOW, BEFORE IT IS TOO LATE.
Painwheel looked “down”, towards the approximation of her current heading. It was another sphere, expanding fast and coming right towards her. Her heart raced, her breathing intensified. Was there even air?
WHAT IS YOUR WISH?
The sphere grew to encompass her entire field of vision.
WHAT IS YOUR WISH?
She could see a hole in space. She was right upon it.
WHAT IS YOUR WISH WHAT IS YOUR WISH WHAT IS YOUR
It was like hitting the surface of a pool during a belly flop. If the water was shards of glass that cut through the soul. The presence of the Skull Heart was ripped from her body, her circulatory system being pulled at. Blood, veins, heart pulled one way, inertia sending the rest of her the other.
Painwheel screamed. Or probably did. It didn't matter. She tasted colors, and blacked out.
The girl shook from head to toe. She remembered everything now. There were even a few shapes she saw in that freaky color tunnel she swore she could remember vividly. Not that she had either the ability or inclination to describe them in words.
Painwheel knelt on the ground. Again. Ever since she became...Painwheel...she had spent a curiously large amount of time low to the ground. It felt appropriate. The slave, the penitent, the lowly wretch.
She just knelt there, thinking back to her parents, to Brain Drain, to the Skull Heart. To Valentine the Nurse Ninja. To Filia.
Now she had nothing. She was in a strange place, with nowhere to go, and none of it made sense.
Actually no, she took it back, looking back up. She could just make out the pink mare carrying her son in the distance. They fled into the edge of a small, colorful town. Rich in pastels. Civilization. Pony civilization.
Reexamining her situation, Painwheel had to admit, shitty as it was, there were aspects that still made perfect sense. Birds, trees, meadows full of flowers? Those made sense. Talking ponies? Again, they were unusual in her experience, but she'd seen stranger things just walking around New Meridian. Talking ponies made sense, at least as far as it went. That they flee, seeing her as a monster? That made sense.
And she still felt pain. A lot of it. That definitely made sense.
Painwheel rose to her feet groggily. In addition to the hurt coming from her parasites, her body felt weak. She'd been in no fair shape after the Skullgirl; she had far less now. But what she did have was new clarity.
The Skull Heart, for all its shit, had spoken wisdom. It was right again, she realized, thinking back. Nothing changed. Her life still in shambles. Still lost, still alienated from her parents, the rest of humanity, and her own better nature. Even if she found her way across the country or as far physically as one could ever get from the world, she was still in a world that cared nothing for her. Setting changed, but the plot remained.
One thing had changed, though. The Skull Heart was gone. So was Brain Drain. Those avenues were apparently closed. She couldn't even properly give into despair anymore; the Skull Heart had been ready to facilitate that, but couldn't anymore. Painwheel wasn't in the mood to despair anymore. The moment was ruined.
Painwheel felt tired.
Her stomach growled. The nearby birds in the tree took flight in surprise.
Painwheel was tired, and also hungry. She started walking in earnest towards the town. I wonder if the ponies have anything to eat.
“I'm telling you there was a monster just outside of town!” the mare mother yelled at the cafe owner. She held her equally distraught son to her chest.
“And I'm telling you you're seeing things, lady,” the owner stated flatly. “A squatting ape-like thing that looks like a corpse and has a mask? With a metal cross on its back? That sounds like a scarecrow.” He shook his head, stroking his bushy mustache.
“It wasn't a scarecrow!” she yelled, growing hysterical. “It grunted at us. It moved! It was alive! Isn't that right honey?” She looked down to her boy, who nodded fearfully.
The owner sighed, sidling over to the two disturbed patrons. “Look ma'am, I can tell you and the boy are scared witless. Why don't you head on home? Maybe settle in for a nice nap.” He flashed a warm smile. “And if there's really a monster, the proper authorities can handle it. Like Princess Twilight and her group. What do you say?”
The mare fidgeted uneasily, then nodded. “Okay,” she stated, “okay we'll do that. Come along dear, we're going home.” She nudged her child towards the door.
“Okay mommy,” said the boy, seeming in the mood to agree.
The cafe owner stared out the window, watching the two walk deeper into town. Of course he knew there was no way it was a monster. Couldn't be. Monsters didn't appear this far from the Everfree Forest. Any critter that would head to the North of Ponyville would be going long out of its way just to do it.
No, the mother and child were just skittish. Too many monster attacks over the last few years, and those only happened every other month on average. Ponyville wasn't as dangerous as ponies seemed to think. The cafe owner blamed the media blowing the events out of proportion.
He chuckled. There wasn't a creature like the lady described. Well, maybe except the one shuffling in from the same direction those two came in from. The one perfectly matching their description and was horrifying to boot.
The cafe owner's blood suddenly ran cold.
“Holy smokes!” he gasped, pressing his snout against the glass window.
Painwheel eyed the cafe patrons seated outside. One by one they began to notice her, freezing in place to complete the effect. But Painwheel didn't care about them.
So long as they kept away, they weren't her concern. The food was.
Her red eyes settled on the nearest table, with a single occupant that sat facing away from her. He failed to see or hear her shamble up beside him. She looked down, and saw the prize: a bun of some kind, with tomatoes and lettuce poking out.
A hamburger. Or something. Another thing that made sense.
Without warning, Painwheel reached out and snatched the foodstuff in her fist. This startled the sandwich's owner. “Hey! What do you think you're...?” he began, before he got a good look at the arm in front of him, and the body it was attached to. The pony recoiled, sputtering. “you're...you're do...doing...oh Celestia...”
The girl stared at him menacingly. She issued a light growl (or at least light by her standards). The stallion yelped, falling out of his chair.
Painwheel brought the burger to her mouth. With great effort, she pushed her mouth open against the leather binding cords that normally held the sections of the mask over her upper face and her jaw closed. The effort usually resulted in her jaw cramping something fierce if used excessively. She often theorized that Valentine – or Brain Drain – implemented certain mechanical design choices in her transition to Anti-Skullgirl weapon for the sole purpose of causing her unnecessary suffering. If they had said that specifically, she would be in no way surprised. She would just be further infuriated.
Didn't matter. Food time. Painwheel's mouth grew moist as she slid her prize into it, using another hand to widen the gap in the cords. With immense gusto, she sank her jagged teeth into the bread, chewing wildly in anticipation of delicious sustenance.
In seconds she realized she couldn't chew through the “meatiest” parts of the sandwich. Painwheel stopped chewing, then examined the parts in her hand. Hay comprised the bulk of the burger.
Burgers contained hay now. Suddenly nothing made sense. Maybe nothing ever would again.
Hacking and sputtering and spitting ensued as Painwheel ejected the hay-filled mess. She leaned forward in her angry expectoration, grunting and growling. It was horrible. No matter how hard she coughed, there seemed to be little bits of hay that refused to come out. In desperation, she searched the table and spied a glass of ice water.
Grasping it in her hand, Painwheel eschewed the use of the straw in favor of just chugging the drink with abandon. She used it to spit out the remaining hay, then sucked down the water gratefully. It was only then that Painwheel realized she was abominably thirsty.
Then she doubled over, clutching her head. It was then that she realized her thirst left her with a dehydration hangover. In all the excitement and her usual discomfort it almost escaped her notice. But the ice water brought the headache to the fore, and she howled wildly.
One thing after another. One damnable thing after another. Painwheel in her frustration brought her fist down on the table, breaking it in two.
The assembled ponies, petrified and confused, erupted in alarmed hooting and hollering. Painwheel looked up to them, clutching her head more. She already had a headache, and the idiots made it worse with their noisome caterwauling. “Ah! Sh-shut up! SHUT UP!” she bellowed, knocking a mangled section of the ruined table aside. But that only caused more panicked noise, as ponies began weeping or screaming or bleating. One pony finally decided to flee, and their example emboldened the others to scramble for egress.
Huffing and puffing, Painwheel watched as the whole lot vacated. Fuming, agitated, she looked at the now empty selection of tables. Spying several abandoned meals, she trudged about, picking through the dishes to find the actually edible victuals.
All told there wasn't a lot there. Similar hay sandwich's were common, and most half eaten. Painwheel needed to pick them apart to salvage the precious tomatoes and lettuce and bread. Angrily she tried to blow off bits of hay from the choice bits. When that didn't work, she grunted, then began trying to brush the hay off. Finally she scarfed what she had away, downing iced teas and water to wash away what she couldn't excise. A bittersweet experience, half bright with the consumption of food, half soul-blackening in the pointless effort needed to obtain so little return.
Then she spotted a lone sandwich she missed, mostly whole. Casual inspection revealed it to be a daisy sandwich. Bread housing actual flowers. Painwheel eyed the product hesitantly, then decided she wasn't full enough to begrudge it. She reached towards the plate.
“Eek!” came a screech from under the table.
Painwheel dipped down to investigate. Cowering under the table was a lone mare, who yelped when the aberration against humanity came into view. Had this one failed to run, and just hid?
Painwheel growled, eliciting a scream from the mare. Yet despite her menace, Painwheel couldn't get the pony to just take off running and leave her in peace. Everyone would win if she just did that. Why were bystanders so stupid? Why were they always so stupid? Painwheel barked, hoping to get her to move.
“Hey! Get away from her!”
Painwheel looked up at the voice, only to be audibly assaulted by a clanging. A pony in an apron and a thick mustache came walking out the front door of the cafe, banging a metal cooking implement of some kind against a soup pot. The banging – it was just awful. She could feel her headache getting worse again. Loud noises. She hated loud noises, even without a headache.
Instead of immediately retreating, Painwheel decided those instruments of foul cacophony needed to die. Bending forward, she sent the Buar blades shooting over her back. The loud, mechanical sound of the internal motors signaled the Buar's activation. The blades spun, turning Painwheel into some kind of scorpion with a buzzsaw for a stinger.
Luckily for the owner, he managed to jump back in alarm, leaving his kitchenware to suffer the blades. They were cut into pieces, leaving the owner screaming.
“No, you git!” Painwheel shouted, retracting her blades and letting them settle behind her. She stamped her foot, sending a terrified mare hiding beneath to finally remember her sense of self-preservation and crawl away. “Go!”
The owner, absolutely terrified, nearly tripped over a fallen chair on his way out. Trotting away, he issued a primal shriek. Painwheel couldn't be sure, but she thought he left a faint yellow trail behind him.
Painwheel huffed and puffed. She was finally truly alone again. Then she grasped her head. Suddenly using the Buar Drive wasn't such a sharp idea. It was usually loud when engaged in spinning, and even on a good day the sound was uncomfortable.
Suddenly her appetite was ruined. Painwheel stumbled away from the cafe and, knowing not what else to do, shuffled on her run-raw feet towards the center of town. Were she in her right mind, she would have considered that leaving town now that she was fed would be better. And quieter. But she wasn't a forest type person in the end; she felt better in more urban, developed environments.
And really, how much louder could things get in such a small town?
“CUTIE MARK CRUSADER INTERNAL COMBUSTION ENGINEERS!”
The three cutie mark-less fillies pushed forward into town from the west, hauling their latest project.
“Hey Scoots, ya really think this'll work?” asked Apple Bloom, looking up at their modified cart. It had a heavy (very heavy) machine set inside it, constructed of spare parts and pieces of wood, rock, and metal they hammered into form.
“Relax,” said Scootaloo, supplying the power from her itty bitty wings to hauling their creation. “We followed all the designs in that book exactly. I bet it'll work just as well as the prototype mentioned.”
“Yeah, but that book didn't really say what happened to the pony what designed the thing, did it?” retorted Apple Bloom. “And if this thing is so hot, why don't we see more of them running around?”
“Beats me,” said Scootaloo, shrugging.
“Oh it'll be fine, girls,” said Sweetie Belle, checking around to see that the cart was fully out on the street. “This is going to be the best...the best...” She grimaced, trying to recall the name. “Auto-mo-bile that's ever been seen! And then we'll get cutie marks in mechanics! You'll see!”
“Well, I guess...” said Apple Bloom. The three had, in their long tenure as Crusaders, done a lot of risky stuff in pursuit of their special talents. A lot of stuff. Sometimes, laying home at night and nursing her bruises or trying to remove whatever sticky stuff she'd gotten into that week, Apple Bloom would wonder whether they were going about the whole process the wrong way.
But then she'd shake her head and stop being foolish. After all, Applejack always said fortune favors the bold. She who dares, wins.
Or was it that slow and steady harvests the apples? No, it was probably the former.
“So did we remember everything?” asked Scootaloo. “Axles?”
“Check!” said Sweetie Belle, examining the wheel axles rigged to their engine.
“Fuel?”
Apple Bloom looked in the back, and found the grade A cider sitting pretty in a big jug. It was the special stuff that Granny Smith kept in the cellar where she thought Apple Bloom couldn't find it. “Check!” she shouted as she began pouring the heavy jug out into the fuel pipe.
“And...goggles for protecting our eyes from the extreme speeds no doubt to come,” said Scootaloo, fishing through the cart. She pulled out three pairs of flight goggles. “Check!”
The three hopped into their contraption, giddy with excitement. “And last but not least...the accelerator!” said Scootaloo, placing a hoof on the shiny lever. She spent half an hour painting it bright red for just the occasion. Time well spent. “Check!” She threw the lever, sending the engine rumbling and spitting. “I hereby declare the inaugural first test of the Crusader Mobile Mark 1...a go!”
“And so then Apple Bloom comes up and asks me for a...a...ah shoot!”
Applejack shook her head, pounding a hoof against the ground. “Ah can't plum remember what it was called. Somethin' about carbonation, I think.”
“Carbonation? Really?” asked Twilight Sparkle, walking alongside her friend. Following just behind was Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash. Twilight scratched her head.
“Naw, I ain't sure,” said Applejack. “That's the problem. Carbonator. Carburetor? I think it's that one.”
“Oh, well in that case it's...”
“Swell,” interjected Rainbow Dash, her shoulders sagging mid-flight. “Another Twilight lecture. Wake me when it's over, will you Fluttershy?”
The yellow pegasus simply mumbled a noncommittal response, not seeking to offend either party.
Twilight for her part merely rolled her eyes. “Anyway...a carburetor, or Atomizer, is a small device used to break liquid into small particles that can then be suspended in air.”
Realization suddenly dawned on Applejack, causing her to halt in place. “So that's where Granny Smith's perfume bottle went. Oh, Apple Bloom is going to get a stern talkin' to when ah get back...just as soon as ah figure out what she used it for.”
“Eh, I'm sure Bloom and her friends just wanted to become Cutie Mark Crusader perfume specialists or something,” commented Dash, idly floating on past the now-stopped group. When she peaked behind, she doubled back to stick with her friends.
“Didn't they already do that...?” whispered Fluttershy, before a loud scream made her jump.
The cafe owner ran up to the assembled ponies, panting and sweating like a pig. “Princess! Princess!” he called, carefully hopping over the floored Fluttershy. “Princess Twilight!”
“Whoa, slow down!” Twilight said, trying to calm down the terrified stallion. “What's going on? You look like you've seen a ghost.”
“A GHOST!?” Fluttershy yelped, frantically looking back where the stallion came. Seeing nothing, she threw her arms over her head, curling into a fetal position.
The stallion huffed and puffed, gasping for breath. “Wasn't a ghost. Wish it were. Ghosts don't attack my restaurant. Don't smash stuff up and eat off ponies' plates.” He looked straight into Twilight's eyes, as serious as he could. “It was a monster!”
“A monster?” Twilight exclaimed. “What kind of monster? What did it look like?”
“It...it stood on its hind l-legs...” he said, shaking like a leaf. “Had horrible red eyes. Stood just taller than a full grown stallion. It looked all bony, except it had these powerful muscles. And it was angry! Angry and hungry!”
“Did it try ta eat anypony?” Applejack asked, growing agitated.
“Well no, but it didn't take kindly to anyone at my cafe being around,” he said, looking over his shoulder. “Since it scared everypony off, I was just going to let it eat its fill and leave. But then it started growling at some innocent mare.” He was growing more frazzled, a few tears running down his face. “I t-tried to scare it off, but it swung its t-tail at me...oh that tail! It was so awful! I ran away after that, and the monster might still be loose!”
“Outrageous!” shouted Rainbow Dash, working herself into a fume. “Come on girls, we need to trounce this monster!”
“Wait...”
“We can't have another beastie loose on our streets!” Applejack affirmed, cocking her hat.
“No really...wait...”
“Something like that doesn't ring any bells,” said Twilight, stroking her chin thoughtfully. “At least it's nothing I've read about. This thing needs to be studied.”
“Wait!” Fluttershy shouted, drawing everypony's attention. When she had it, Fluttershy struggled under their eyes, squirming. But then she regained her resolve, saying, “That creature sounds like it was just hungry and malnourished. For all we know it was driven to desperation...you know, if it decided to walk into Ponyville and all. We should be gentle about...”
“Gentle smentle, Fluts!” Rainbow retorted. “A monster tried to attack ponies. We gotta take it down.”
“Dash is right,” Twilight said, a statement that made Rainbow glow with pride. “But so is Fluttershy.”
Rainbow's pride deflated. “Wait huh?”
“We can't just let a dangerous, unknown creature wander around town, that much is certain,” Twilight explained. She looked up to the airborne pegasus. “Rainbow Dash, I need you to find Rarity and Pinkie Pie. We might need all the help we can get. In the meantime, we'll go ahead and see if Fluttershy can't talk the beast down. Can you do that? For me?”
Dash looked annoyed, snorting. “Fine, but I still think I should fly in first to hit the thing.” Showing admirable restraint, she didn't defy marching orders, instead flying away from the direction the cafe owner came from. She had a suspicion where their errant friends could be found.
“Alright, Applejack and Fluttershy, form on me!” Twilight said, walking forward. “We'll look all over town if we have to. Let's move!”
As her two friends joined the running, Applejack worried. “Ah just hope Apple Bloom and her friends ain't getting into any trouble. Ah couldn't stand it if they found the monster first.”
“Woo! This is so much fun!”
Scootaloo screamed with joy, feeling the wind in her mane as the Cutie Mark Crusaders rode their automobile contraption through the streets.
“Ah know, right?” Apple Bloom stated, watching the buildings fly by. “Wonder why nopony else decided to build something like this?”
“Maybe they were all too afraid of speed?” said Sweetie Belle, looking down at the ground they traversed over. Watching such motion made her a bit nauseous, though, and she turned away to check the engine. It billowed smoke like a small brush fire. “You think it's supposed to do that?” she said, pointing back to the engine.
“Don't know,” said Scootaloo, before turning her head back to the road and barely managing a turn on their primitive steering rod to avoid a running pony pedestrian. “Gah! Where did that pony think he was going?” She looked forward and saw a number of other ponies frantically fleeing, all away from the same direction. “What the hay?”
“What do ya'll think the commotion is?” Apple Bloom asked. “Do ya think ponies heard about us and wanted to see for themselves?”
“I don't...wah!” Scootaloo yelped as their vehicle hit a bump in the road. They swerved around a fair bit, the miniature pegasus trying to regain control. It was only when they ran straight through a newspaper stand that she managed to straighten their course.
“Ah!” shouted Sweetie Belle, clawing newspaper from across her face. “Maybe we should stop the machine!”
“Maybe you're right,” said Scootaloo, looking around their rudimentary control system. Within seconds, her concern turned to confusion. “Wait, how do we stop the cart?”
“What?” asked Apple Bloom. “What do ya mean how do we stop the cart?”
Scootaloo's pupils shrank. “Oh Celestia, there's no break! We never put a break into the cart!”
“Oh...” whispered Sweetie Belle, her spirits dropping considerably. “I knew there was something we forgot.”
“We don't have any way to stop this thing!” Scootaloo shouted, gripping the control rod with both hooves. “We can't stop!”
The three fillies started screaming.
Applejack swore she could hear screaming somewhere in the distance. “Heads up ya'll. I hear something!”
“Oh, I hope somepony isn't getting hurt,” said Fluttershy, flapping as hard as she could to keep up with her friends. The three had run up and down the streets looking for the creature, but found nothing.
But someone did find them. Rainbow Dash flew overhead. She called down to them, “Girls! I found Rarity and Pinkie Pie! They'll meet us a little ways over in that direction.” She pointed a hoof down a side street.
“Thanks Dash!” Twilight yelled, directing her group down the indicated avenue. “Anything else?”
“Yeah,” Dash said, flapping over the rooftops to she could see over the buildings. “I think I saw the monster. Not sure, it was pretty far off. But I knew you wanted to wait to engage. You're welcome by the way.”
“Thanks!” Twilight shouted. “Also, what's with that screaming?”
“Don't know,” Rainbow said. “I'm going to join back up with the others. See you later!” With that, she zoomed ahead, leaving the others to catch up.
In the distance, the screaming continued.
The screaming just wouldn't stop. It was giving Painwheel an even worse headache. And it was getting closer.
Pissed off as she was, the anti-Skullgirl weapon almost relished a chance to stop the noise. With her bare hands, if need be. What confused Painwheel was why the screams were distant. Plenty of people – human and pony alike – vocalized their fright upon seeing her. That just made sense. And they were at least sensible enough now to bolt or hide as she walked past. But what was going on in this town that separate terror occurred in the distance that could somehow outweigh her?
Rounding a corner, Painwheel was almost certain she could hear the squeal of tires on pavement. And a rapidly approaching smoke column hanging above it. “The hell?” Painwheel said.
Then a ramshackle cart with a ramshackle engine block roared into view. Upon it strode a pale horse, alongside a sunny yellow one and a pumpkin orange one. Three fillies, desperately trying to control their death wagon and screaming bloody murder. And they were driving straight towards Painwheel.
“What the fuck!?” Painwheel yelled, diving away from the path of the oncoming automobile. But then a thought entered her mind: these stupid kids were going to get themselves – and everyone else – killed. It had to be stopped. If only to silence their voices.
First she dropped to all fours. Then, she extended the Buar Drive to it would intersect with the cart. But instead of starting a spin, she had the blades switch forms. It's fairly obvious to anyone stupid enough to fight Painwheel that her Buar Drive's primary function is as a rotary saw for cutting her opponents to ribbons. But few realize she can have the four individual blades turn or shift into different configurations. One of them was to stack the four together to produce one, thick scythe blade for applying extra mass to one hit. Another is to fold their bent points inward to produce what amounted to a massive, sharp hand.
More than a few infuriating opponents found themselves unexpectedly grabbed and pulled in for more personal punishment. If she hadn't been so enraged, she might even enjoy their surprise.
It was a simple matter of applying the same basic technique to the moving cart as it rolled past. The blades sank deep into the wood, causing the fillies within to jerk forward.
But momentum is a cruel mistress, and Painwheel felt herself being pulled along. “What...?” She tried to maintain her footing, but she merely slid on the surface.
“Aaaaah!” the fillies shrieked, looking back and forth between their current heading and the creature hampering them.
“Can't...stop...” Painwheel grunted. There was no helping it. Contracting her muscles, she felt shooting pain course through her arms and legs. She felt the breech of her skin as the Gae Bolga parasites extended their black hooks out and sunk into the ground. They produced barbs that arrested the force that would free them, causing her to stop completely.
It was...unpleasant.
But it worked as intended, and the tires on the cart began spinning in place, anchored as they were. Seeing her handiwork, Painwheel pulled the cart back, preparing for a heavy feat. “RRAAGGH!”
With that, she lifted the automobile over her head and sent it flying in the other direction. Looking up, she saw the three little ponies tumble out and land with the sound of 'poof' on the ground some meters away from the cart when it came down.
“Dang...” said Scootaloo, groggily. “What happened?”
The Cutie Mark Crusaders wobbled to their hooves, looking over to their wrecked vehicle.
“Wow...” Apple Bloom said, seeing their masterwork. She rubbed a scratch on her foreleg. “That could have gone better.”
“Do you think it'll still run after this?” Sweetie Belle asked, her voice popping.
As if in answer, the flaming engine exploded, showing the surrounding few meters in shrapnel, though not far enough to hurt anypony. The engine faced away, so the bottom of the cart absorbed some of the blast. With that, the entire cart burst into flames.
“...yeah, I don't think so...” Scootaloo stated, pupils shrinking. The three stood there watching the blaze. “Looks our automobile is a bust. But hey, at least we're okay. Right girls?”
A low, guttural growl from behind caused the fillies to turn around. They looked up, meeting the gaze of a very angry human.
Painwheel looked down upon them. Stupid kids. Could have gotten themselves killed. What business do little kids have building and operating powered cars? None, that's what! She ought to...
…to what exactly? Painwheel began to question her own rage, something she was not want to do. What would she do to the kids, honestly? Kill them? Painwheel shook her head, resetting her gaze back on them. Whatever she did, she couldn't just let them walk away like that. She was the adult here...after a fashion...so she should met out a good scolding.
“Stupid!” she growled, watching as they cowered in a huddle. “What the hell was that? You could have killed someone! Stupid kids. I ought to...grah!” She barked, and the three whimpered together. Perhaps now they knew their...
“GET AWAY FROM THEM!”
Painwheel spun around to see...wow, six mares arrive on the scene. And when they didn't look afraid – as more than one certainly did – they looked absolutely pissed.
“Applejack!” squeaked Apple Bloom, looking hopefully from the shadow of a...of a...
“What the world is that ghastly thing?” Rarity said, strapped as she was to a heavy cart full of fabric rolls. Had she really insisted on bringing them all with her? Yes, she had, what of it? Fabric is expensive. “And what is it doing to my sister!?” The concerned fashionesta dropped an octave in outrage. “Sweetie Belle! Get away from there!”
Twilight Sparkle for her part whispered to Rainbow Dash. “Do you think you can...?”
“No problem, just keep it distracted,” Rainbow Dash said, flying off in another direction.
Twilight noted how Rainbow's departure confused the creature further. Not that she could get a very good read on it anyway, what with the expressionless leather mask. Or was that just its face? They were a fair bit of space away, so it was difficult to tell.
Not that Applejack had any intention of keeping still. She advanced several steps.
“I told ya to get away from them fillies!” she shouted, a display that only served to earn a glower from the monster. “Apple Bloom! Are you alright?”
Painwheel chanced a glance down at the fillies, who flinched under her gaze. She returned to staring at the orange pony. It was only then, when her eyes were elsewhere, that she felt the rush of wind, and saw a rainbow cascade in the corner of her eye. “Gah!?” she grunted, seeing the fillies were gone.
Rainbow Dash flew right over her friends' heads, circling around to reunite. “Got ya!” she said proudly, gripping the three crusaders in her front legs.
“Rainbow Dash!” Scootaloo beamed, abject terror changing into ecstatic admiration. She hugged Dash's leg in gratitude.
“Heh, that's my name. Don't wear it out,” said Rainbow, landing down behind the group of ponies. “Well okay, maybe I can afford to hear it a couple more times.”
Pinkie Pie jumped up and down in place, hopping towards the flier and her grateful charges. “Oh my gosh Rainbow Dash, that was so cool!” she said. “First you were like 'I'll be back',” Pinkie said, emphasizing her “quote” by growing serious and monotone. “But then you were like 'As in right now'! You were amazing! You...”
“Applejack don't!” Twilight shouted, ignoring the commotion behind her. “What are you doing?”
“What I shoulda done,” said Applejack, closing the distance to the monster. At the last second, she spun around and coiled back her rear legs for a good, old-fashioned, Apple Family style bucking. “How do you like these apples?” Her legs shot towards the monster. No way a living thing, even a monster, walks away intact from one of those bucks.
Painwheel fell to all fours, anticipating the attack. The Buar blades swung over her head and formed a barrier. She felt the force of impact travel through it to one of her hands, which she used to brace against the blow. She slid back maybe a foot, but remained unharmed. “It's nothing!”
The assembled ponies gasped, both at the complete nullification of Applejack's assault and because...
“It can talk!?” Twilight exclaimed. This creature, whatever it was, looked unlike anything she'd ever seen in any reference materials. Whatever it was, it could talk. The alicorn was torn between the dueling feelings of intense, joyous discovery and abject dread. To study it, and to flee.
Applejack mainly felt shock. “What the hay?” she whispered under her breath.
The monster pulled its blade around and revved up the spin. Applejack gazed up at it, wincing at the offensive noise coming off of it. Then the monster spun around, preparing to whip the thing at her. “Gah!” Applejack yelped, jumping away in time to see the blades spin just shy of her rump.
“Applejack!” Rarity shouted, holding her sister protectively. Nearby, Apple Bloom gasped.
“What the hay is this thing?” Applejack screamed, retreating several paces away. She settled to the ground, keeping her eyes firmly locked on the marauding monster. “It just ain't natural! What is it Twilight?”
“I don't know!” Twilight shouted, eyes also set on the creature. Every aspect of the thing was worthy of note. Tattered, bizarre clothing; visible black veins; lack of body hair; heavy iron bands around the wrists and ankles; ugly leather mask; bright red eyes; even nails seemingly embedded in its shoulders and thighs. And now she realized its “tail” wasn't a tail. It was a massive, motorized pinwheel. No, not a pinwheel. “It's a swastika!”
“A what?” said Rarity, turning from the display. “The creature is called a Swastika?”
“No Rarity, the shape of the blade!” Twilight said, rubbing the bridge of her nose. Pointing towards the creature, she said, “It's used by certain Neighponese and Ti-bit-en monks to symbolize auspiciousness.”
“I really don't think this is quite the time, darling!” Rarity said, eyes going wide. “Applejack won't care what it's called if she's struck by the thing and sliced in half!”
Twilight face-hoofed, realizing her lack of focus. Looking next to her, she saw Fluttershy just staring, shaking in fear. “Fluttershy, now's your chance. Go talk to it!”
The yellow pegasus flinched, tearing her gaze from the battle. “Oh no, I can't do that...it's too scary...”
“Fluttershy!” the alicorn princess barked. “You were the one who wanted to calm it down. So do it already. Otherwise Applejack might get seriously injured.”
“Oh...oh my...” Fluttershy whispered, checking back on Applejack, who kept on guard opposite an equally weary bipedal creature. Was the poor thing just scared? It seemed kind of sluggish to Fluttershy. Maybe it was having a bad day?
It certainly didn't look to be in a good mood. Fluttershy gulped, then walked slowly up.
“Um...excuse me...um...ma'am?” she said meekly.
Painwheel turned to face the new voice. Standing stock still, Painwheel issued a low rumble from her throat. Who were they sending in now?
“...um...hi...” the yellow pony said, almost so quiet as to be inaudible. Painwheel grunted questioningly, causing the pegasus to shake fearfully, ears flat against its head. “I...w-was wondering...could you please...if you wouldn't mind terribly...not being so angry? Pretty please?”
What the actual hell? Painwheel looked over at the orange pony where she still stood, and even that one looked on dubiously.
“It's just...” the pegasus began again, “you look like you've been having a bad time. You're all skin and bones...and terrifying muscles...I mean...! I mean you look like you've been through a lot.” The yellow one put on a tentative, hesitant face, but one of warmth. It was...disarming.
Why did this pony make Painwheel's rage cool? She looked so pathetic. So nice. Completely unoffensive. Like her kindness was bottomless.
“Filia?” Painwheel whispered, so low it couldn't be heard, and surely couldn't be seen behind her mask. This pony seemed kind, just like Filia...
“So how about we calm down,” the pegasus continued, “and we'll see about making you comfortable. Maybe some good food, and...” She sniffed, growing just the most subtle shade of green. But she maintained that warm facade. “...and maybe a nice bath.”
Painwheel stepped back, still unsure. The mare started up again, “It's okay. No one's going to hurt you. Everything's going to be alright.” She cautiously stepped forward, reaching a hoof out.
Carol lifted a hand up, the heavy iron ring shifting on her wrist. She was already so tired. Maybe she could afford it. Maybe it was time to calm down, and let someone...someone kind help her again. Like Filia.
She chanced a look to her right, and saw the orange pony in the cowboy hat. She'd walked much closer, and seemed ready to pounce. When their eyes met, the mare sucked air.
No. No, not again. Filia was Carol's friend. But Filia betrayed her.
Painwheel tensed back up again, growling back and forth between the two ponies before settling on the pegasus. “You lie!” she shouted, spinning up the Buar Drive. “You're just like all the others!”
“Fluttershy!” Applejack called, frozen in place suddenly.
As was Fluttershy, who remained transfixed, a look of horror and hurt about her. “But I...I'm not...”
Painwheel wasn't going to be betrayed. Not again. Not by another girl faking kindness. The Buar raised up in preparation to strike. Not again. Never again.
“Oh no you don't!”
Rainbow Dash slammed into the creature in mid flight, sending it tumbling away. Equestria's greatest flier – or the one who called herself that anyway – flapped up above her opponent triumphantly. “Fluttershy, you okay?”
Fluttershy nodded frantically, hyperventilating. She rose tentatively to her feet and flapped on back to her friends. Almost back to the group, she turned her head back and said, “Rainbow Dash...don't hurt her, okay?”
Dash gawked at her oldest friend, the one she knew from flight school. Then she narrowed her eyes. “No promises.” It didn't even bother her that Fluttershy frowned. She'd recover. Dash had every intention of making sure the monster that almost killed her wouldn't.
Speaking of, the creature rose groggily to its feet again, looking around to find what hit it. Dash shouted from above, “Up here! Bet you can't get me! I'm the best flier in all of Equestria! What do you got?”
Frustrating.
In response, Painwheel crouched, then jumped into the air. Of course, between the Buar Drive and the parasites, Painwheel was naturally pretty heavy. It made her slow. But there was one advantage her Buar Drive possessed that compensated for her decreased mobility.
Rainbow Dash looked on as the blades began spinning. But they were directed above the monster...causing it to rise into the air at the arc of its jump.
It was just like Tank's little enchanted propeller. “IT CAN FLY!” Rainbow Dash exclaimed, mesmerized. She almost lost control of her bowels, it was so horrifying. What the hell was this thing that it could even fly? So unfair.
At the peak of her jump, Painwheel gave herself a bit more forward momentum with the propellers, then brought the blades back into attack position in a flying charge. The pegasus seemed so shocked by the display that she was wide open for an attack.
Time to shut that big mouth of yours, Painwheel thought, heading right towards her.
And then pain. A searing pain against her side, along with a bright light. A bright violet light. “UGH!?” she spat, sent off course.
The beam sent the creature flying into a nearby building. Impact caused it to bounce painfully off the surface, before falling to the ground. Across the road, breathing hard, the purple alicorn's horn gave off smoke.
“Twilight!” Rarity exclaimed, a mixture of surprise and elation on her face.
Folded in her forelegs, Sweetie Belle chimed in, “Nice shot, Twilight!”
“Yeah, do it again!” Scootaloo exclaimed, secretly very glad her idol was unhurt. She might even die herself if anything happened to Rainbow Dash. But that would never happen, not when Rainbow was so rad. And not when she had such rad friends.
Twilight Sparkle clenched her teeth, breathing heavily. This beast – whatever is was – was just full of surprises. That mechanical prosthetic alone warranted in depth study. Was it indeed a prosthetic replacing a lost limb? Or was it a modification? It was certainly a useful tool; extremely versatile. But none of that mattered, Twilight realized. It tried to hurt her friends, her students. Additionally, it showed no signs of stopping or leaving peacefully.
Loathe was she to actually hurt it. But Twilight knew they had to stop it. Contain it. Bring it down. “With pleasure,” she said, charging another bolt of magic.
Painwheel stood, only to feel the bite of pain again when another beam slammed into her. “AAAAH!” She staggered backwards, one eye nearly blinded with a huge spot where the light flashed into it. Looking ahead with her unblinded eye, she saw the purple pony with wings charge her horn and fire another shot. “OOOH!” Painwheel screamed, feeling another sharp bite in her stomach. Doubling over, she felt like she was about to puke. Shouldn't have eaten so close to a battle.
But then again, she wouldn't even need to fight if these onerous asses would just leave her alone.
Another bolt, but she was ready with the Buar Drive this time. It moved in front of her, blocking the stream of energy. “Stop it!” she shouted. Another two shots flew out, pushing her right to the wall of the building behind her. That unicorn...pegasus...whatever, simply would not let up.
At this rate I'll be trapped, Painwheel thought. Damn bitch! She's just like...
“Bet'cha feel all lonely, don'cha?”
“Bomb's Away!”
“Garbage Day!”
“Look out below!”
“Argus...AGONY!”
“HRAAAH!” Painwheel screamed. She planted the Buar next to her, charging its spin. More bolts landed right on her, but Painwheel was so beyond caring at that point. If anything, the pain only made her more pissed.
Twilight Sparkle, exhausted from repeated shots, stole a look out at her target. It wasn't blocking anymore, just spinning its wheel. A wheel spinning parallel with her current location. And the creature was starting to grow red all over.
She gasped. “Everypony scatter!” she yelled, diving to one side.
Painwheel shot off, rolling over the street with her Buar Drive as a big wheel. It shot sparks from the pavement as it dug in for traction.
“Oh my word!” Rarity exclaimed, tugging Sweetie Belle away with her. Luckily she'd decided to ditch the cart she was strapped to before, otherwise she would have been right in the path of oncoming death.
The rest of the ponies hit pavement as the creature slammed bodily into the cart, shredding through the wood and sending rolls of nicked or tattered fabric flying everywhere.
“Whoa!” said Rainbow Dash, flying towards the crash alongside Applejack. “Did you see that?”
“Cream gravy!” Applejack exclaimed in response, eyes fixed.
Everypony groaned where they lay. Pinkie Pie was the first to rise. “That was amazing! You think we could get her as a performer at a race party? Ooh, or we could put her IN the race against the best runners of Equestria and see who's fastest! She might even be the fastest thing alive!” Pinkie hopped up and down while her friends returned to their feet uncomfortably.
“Pinkie Pie, please!” said Twilight, scowling at her very high strung friend.
“Yeah, Pinks,” said Rainbow Dash, hovering nearby. “If anyone's the fastest thing alive, it's obviously...”
“GRRAAGH!”
The ponies all halted as a mass arose from a pile of wood and fabric. Soon the familiar red eyes and leather mask became visible between two sheets of cloth. It flailed about, trying to shake off the encumbrances. When that didn't work so well, it revved up its blades, desperately trying to cut its way out. But that two had only marginal success, the cloth draping over its body or knotting as it caught on the blades. Only through concerted effort and lots of furious attempts to pull the cloth off did the rest of the fabric come loose.
Well mostly, with one sheet clinging to the creature's leg. When it noticed, it screamed and brought the whirling saw down on it severing the cloth from a solid sheet. Then it grabbed what remained and tore it free, throwing it to the ground. “Fuck you!” it yelled impotently at the tattered sheet, stomping on it three times. It stood idly, breathing deeply and looking relieved to be out.
Twilight Sparkle didn't give it a break though. Now was their chance. She almost felt bad, really. Looking at such a sad display made Twilight see less a wild monster and more a frustrated child having a tantrum. It would almost be adorable...if the creature wasn't also terrifying. “Hey! Over here!” she said.
Painwheel looked back at the princess. Her horn was glowing again, so Painwheel brought her Buar up again to block the shot. She was ready this time.
But the shot never came. Painwheel just saw the alicorn smile smugly – so infuriating – and drop the glow to her horn.
Painwheel felt a shadow come across her. She looked up. “What...?”
The mangled remains of the fabric cart fell onto her head.
Getting back out – again – was harder than the first time. She used the Buar to push the bulk from her body, then tried crawling away. But...it was just...such a long day. A long couple days. Painwheel's head hurt. Hell, everything was hurting. And she was so tired. Shouldn't have walked so far into town. Should have just wandered off to rest. She tried to get up, but slipped and fell down, rolling onto her back.
“Now's our chance!” said Applejack. “Dog pile it!”
So Applejack, Rainbow Dash, and a very excited Pinkie Pie jumped onto the downed creature. Twilight even lent her magic to the task of restraining that unruly prosthetic. Surely it wouldn't be able to hurt anypony without it. Right?
Painwheel groaned under the weight. No damnit, she thought, I can't go like this. I fought that nurse. I fought off Brain Drain's control. Filia, the princess and her army, even that annoying...
“Why're so bad at video games?”
“AAAAH!” Painwheel made a fist, digging her black fingernails into her palm until it drew black blood.
And the Skullgirl! Painwheel grimaced, her arms pinned by two heavy ponies while a third, heavier pink pony pinned her legs and stomach. I beat the Skullgirl! I beat her and her mountain of bones! I can't lose! Not to a bunch of colorful...fucking...PONIES!
Pinkie Pie was having fun, sitting on top of the girl. Maybe after this they could play some party games. Would she be good at the game where one spun a color and hoof and had to put it on that grid of colored dots? Pinkie knew so many party games – and so many party guests – that she sometimes forgot the names here and there. Not that they'd ever admit to...
Twitchy twitch. But not in her extremities. This one was new. Pinkie's blood ran cold.
It was a twitch in her chest. “EVERYPONY GET OFF!” she shrieked, diving off the girl immediately.
Applejack had long learned not to question Pinkie Pie, and frantically started rolling off.
Ironically, it was Rainbow Dash who was slow on the uptake. “Huh?” she looked around confused, then looked down.
Painwheel's whole body tensed. This was going to hurt. But hopefully, it would hurt them as much as it did her. “SCREW YOU!”
Every spike shot out all at once, producing a pin cushion effect across her whole body.
Applejack cleared it in time. Rainbow Dash was a second slower. A single spike caught her as she jumped away, raking across her side.
“AAAAAH!” she screamed, flopping mere feet from the monster before flapping frantically away. She only got a meter or two farther before crashing, clutching her side. “It hurts! It hurts!”
The rest of the ponies watched in horror. Watched Rainbow Dash flop around, bright red blood pouring from her flank. A trail of it dripped from the mass of prickly needles shot from every part of Painwheel's body. The whole lot of them witnessed it, hearts clenched.
Pinkie was the first to speak. “RAINBOW DASH!” she cried, tears forming in her eyes.
“Rainbow Dash!” said Scootaloo, trying to run towards her idol. It was like a nightmare. But she was stopped by the outstretched hoof of Rarity, who looked about ready to cry herself. Rarity shook her head towards Scootaloo. The filly grabbed Rarity's arm, trying to push through it to no avail. “Let me go! Rainbow Dash! Rainbow Dash!”
The mass of needles shrank, and the group had to look back. Even Scootaloo, and the prone Rainbow Dash, stopped to look back. Back at the monster. Twilight Sparkle's blood felt like ice. She placed a shaky hoof over her mouth. What in Tartarus was this thing?
Whatever it was, it stood up clumsily. In all the commotion, Twilight had let go of the blades. It took the opportunity to raise it up behind it again.
Painwheel cast her gaze towards the writhing pegasus. Finally, one of these bastards would bleed.
Painwheel turned around, cross as the one on her back. The pegasus, the unicorn, the pegicorn, or the horses. Any would make for a suitable next target. If the vexing pink one wanted the first opportunity to die, Painwheel would be more than happy to oblige. She prepared to shove a Gae Bolga spike into its face.
Instead she turned to meet the business end of bright, multi-colored cannon.
Where did it get...?
“Yo ho ho!”
The unhappy memory was cut off as the cannon fired, knocking Painwheel on her back with a spray of balloons, confetti, streamers, and a solid hunk of fruit cake. “UGH!”
Twilight Sparkle turned to her pink friend. “Pinkie Pie! Stop!”
“But...Twilight...” Pinkie panted, using her party cannon as support. Her expression was one of exhausted anger and disappointment.
“No Pinkie! This isn't helping!” This situation escalated too much, too quickly. Way too out of hoof. She needed damage control, and she needed it now. Pointing her horn towards the creature, Twilight fired off another spell.
The creature regained its footing and battlefield sense, and moved its blades up defensively again. But it didn't impact its blades with concussive force this time. Twilight didn't have nearly enough energy to keep playing that game. Especially when the monster could just block.
Instead, the entire body lit up, popping magically out of existence. Twilight had opted for a teleport spell.
Twilight took to the air and flew above the roofline, looking West. Sure enough, she could see the figure of the creature falling and flailing some meters in the air, many blocks away. It had enough sense to start hovering...
...and then it spotted Twilight.
Fearfully the alicorn dropped back to the ground. Should have at least taken cover if she was going to look. Stupid, stupid, stupid!
“Okay, everypony,” she said, sweat beading down her face. “Good news, bad news. Good news, it's not here anymore.” She touched down, looking around to her friends. “Bad news, I kind of just tipped it off where it is in relation to us, so it'll be flying back in a matter of minutes. Probably one or two at max. Sorry.” She put up a nervous, guilty smile.
“Oh...ow! ...that's just...ack...great...” Rainbow Dash said, clutching her bleeding side. She winced. “Now...what?”
Fluttershy sat next to her, attempting to minister to her injured friend. “Oh no, oh no,” she said, trying to brush away Dash's hooves so she could see the wound. When Rainbow reluctantly complied, Fluttershy stuck her face close. She looked queasy. “Oh no, this is not good. Not good. This is just horrible!” She was panicking now.
She turned to face over her shoulder. “Rarity! I need bandages! ...please.”
“Oh! Yes,” said Rarity, looking around her. She spotted some scattered, tattered scraps of fabric. The fashionista looked upon her (now largely destroyed) supplies with a troubled expression, but she shook it off. Her horn started glowing, and suitably large pieces flew off. “Yes of course. Use these!”
Applejack walked over, watching the cloth sail over her head. “Okay, so we're about to be attacked again,” she said nervously. “What do we do now, Twilight?”
Before Twilight could answer, a voice came from behind. “Rainbow Dash!” Scootaloo, seeing that the situation was at least for the moment calm, tried rushing towards her idol, Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle right behind her.
First thing's first. “No!” Twilight said, lighting up her horn again. Instantly the Cutie Mark Crusaders were enveloped in a violet bubble.
“What the hay!”
“Aah!”
“No! What are you doing?” Scootaloo shouted, trying to paw her way out of the bubble to no success. She couldn't even stand, what with her two friends sitting on top of her. “Let me out!”
“No, it has to be done,” Twilight said, trotting over and pushing the bubble, sending it rolling. It went about a meter, then rolled off level ground and onto the beginning of a gradual slope.
“WAAAAAAAH!” the three fillies screamed as their magical hamster ball gained speed and rolled away from the battlefield.
Twilight sighed in relief. The spell would last long enough to take the kids away from the fight. “That's one thing settled,” she mumbled, turning back around to survey what they had at their disposal.
Not a lot. Rainbow was wounded, so she was out of the fight. And Fluttershy would be too timid – and frankly too weak – to engage the monster. Especially since it was well beyond taking direction. Although maybe her other skill could be useful...
In the direct confrontation to come, that left Applejack, Rarity, Pinkie Pie, and Twilight herself. Those four against what Twilight was now realizing was a killing machine. A creature endowed with many horrible, lethal weapons. It was an alien being to Equestria, and it could not be more contrary to Equestria values.
And thus far, they'd botched the first contact beyond belief.
Twilight shook her head. No more. No more running in blindly. No more working at cross purposes. And definitely no more underestimating their opponent. If they were going to survive, and contain the threat, they needed to stop assuming the could just “handle whatever”. They had to work in concert.
Twilight and her friends needed a plan.
“Well, sugarcube?” Applejack said. “What are we doing?” She glanced over at her ailing friend, worried. “Ah know it were my rashness that got us into this mess. Ah gotta make it right. Just tell me...” she looked around, seeing Rarity, Pinkie Pie, and even Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash listening in. “...just tell us where you need us to be. What do we need to do?”
And with a little mental gymnastics, Twilight realized she had the makings of a plan.
Painwheel hopped down on the roof of a building. She ran to the side, peaking over. But she didn't see ponies. No, what lay in the street baffled Painwheel almost to the point where the rage she'd maintained all the flight back over began to subside. “What the...?” She jumped over the side, landing and running in.
It was a cake.
She inched towards the pastry, stealing glances around but spying nothing. Finally she stood over the cake, one only maybe a foot high. On the surface was scrawled a message.
Surrender now, and we can definitely be friends. How about it?
“...you...” Painwheel said, staring at the cake. She clenched her fists, beginning to shake turbulently. “You think this is some kind of joke!?” Painwheel brought the Buar Drive up over her head, spinning loudly. “GO TO HELL!”
“Have it your way.”
The pink one – Pinkie Pie – popped up from the nonexistent depths of the cake. In her hooves was the same cannon as before. Pointed right at Painwheel.
The human girl paused. How...how did she...? Painwheel's Buar blades stopped spinning. Where...where did she come from? The cake, she thought, the cake's too small...how?
The cannon went off, knocking Painwheel back. But it didn't really have enough mass as a projectile to send her to the ground. What it did do...Painwheel had trouble understanding. All she could see was colors floating in front of her vision. It took seconds, and one fearful swipe with a spike, for her to understand. It was the pop that did it.
“You know,” came a voice from somewhere beyond the balloons – a voice that caused Painwheel to jumped, “we've really come into this party under poor circumstances.” The voice started traveling around, to the point where it was hard for Painwheel to tell where it came from. “But if you just say you're sorry, we can...”
“Like hell!” Painwheel yelled, throwing spiked punches left and right. Using the Gae Bolga parasites in a fight was painful, and the last few days were long. She really hadn't wanted to use them, given their extensive use before. But when tired, pissed off the no end, and surrounded by balloons, Painwheel's priorities shifted.
Now she wanted the pink one and all her little friends dead. Now if only the STUPID BALLOONS WOULD GET OUT OF HER WAY.
Enough is enough, she thought. As effective as an assortment of needles were against balloons, they weren't popping fast enough. At least not fast enough to justify the pain of pushing them out of her flesh for every attempt. Painwheel adjusted her Buar Drive, spinning it. She then spun herself in circles, using the blades to fan away the balloon cloud. In time, Painwheel staggered dizzily to a stop, looking around. Despite her discomfort – indeed, Painwheel felt again like vomiting – the balloons were cleared away.
The Pinkie Pie froze mid hop, ceasing a giggle fit to see she'd been spotted. Gravity seemed to remember its job, bringing her falling down to the ground. “Oh...he he...looks like you found me,” she said, putting on nervous smile. “Guess hide and seek is over...”
Painwheel charged the bitch. “KILL!”
She started off with a swing of the Buar, followed by a jab with her right arm, spikes poking out. Then came more swipes, more punches, a kick, and a hard swing with all four blades formed into one massive hook, planting itself in the ground.
Not even one managed to hit the pony.
“Whoa!” Pinkie Pie said, hopping back from the Buar. It retracted, and she hopped in place. “Better be careful, or you'll hurt somepony with...”
“GRAAAH!” Painwheel growled, trying to hit the pony again. She was shoving enough spikes and blades towards the pony that surely, by shear probability, one of them would connect. But no, the pony just ducked, sidestepped, jumped over, or retreated just at the right moment.
“Ugh...why!” She planted her hands on the ground, drop kicking out and sending spikes from her feet like spears. It was pain. No connect. “Won't!” She spreads her legs, bending over backwards and tucking the Buar between her legs to shoot for those pink legs. Pure agony. Missed entirely. “You!” She sends both fists forward, firing as many spikes as she can in a wide spray. Mercilessly unpleasant. Whiffed like an amateur. “DIE!” The pink one tried to jump over Painwheel's head.
Oh please, Painwheel thought, realizing the optimal course of action given the situation. Anything but that...
She raised her leg, kicking it straight up. Of course it wasn't high enough to hit the pony. Instead, Painwheel grabbed her leg by the calf muscle...and bent it back as hard as she could. She felt, rather than saw, the huge spike fire from the back of her knee. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!”
In the torturous second before she clasped her eyes shut, Painwheel saw the pony tumble in mid-air, allowing the spike to sail harmlessly by in her wake.
Bullshit! You whore!
Painwheel rolled over on the ground, snapping her leg back into proper alignment. Amid the pain, she nearly despaired. How could this be? It wasn't fair. How did the Pinkie Pie always know where she was coming from?
Despair was a luxury Painwheel learned before not to consider indulging in. It would just be taken away somehow anyway. She rose unsteadily to her feet, letting her pain whip her once again into a frenzy. Pain. Pain. “PAIN!” she screamed to the sky, the straps over her mouth stretching as she forced it open. Her Buar Drive spun as near maximum velocity, kicking up dust around her. Waves of energy – her energy – rising with the smoke.
“Yeah,” said Pinkie Pie, giggling. “That'll happen if you WHA!”
Painwheel charged forward, shoulder checking the pony. Not pausing, Painwheel dashed over and grabbed her staggered opponent. She held the pony by the neck, raising it to the sky. It squirmed in Painwheel's grip, but she just tightened and the pony stopped, choking. “Shut up!” The human prepared to slam the pony to the ground.
Then a rock flew out and slammed into Painwheel's arm, forcing her to drop the Pie.
“Fuck!” she yelled, gripping her arm. “What the hell was that?” She turned her head to the direction from whence the rock came...and took a burnt, blackened chunk of metal right in the face. “FRAAGH!” The hit sent her rolling on the ground, clutching her face.
“Direct hit! Good work, darling!”
Painwheel forced herself to her hands and feet, looking over. The unicorn and the pony with the hat stood on the sidewalk several meters away. The unicorn's horn glowed bright, with several small objects suspended in air by the light of the unicorn's aura.
The orange one – Applejack – looked mighty pleased with herself. “Shoot, weren't nothing.” She cocked her hat, eying the human and exuding a confident, knowing air. The human and the pony locked eyes, and the pony winked.
Painwheel growled. Unbelievable. No...incorrigible. They were laughing at her!
She charged. The Pinkie Pie was clearly a lost cause. But Painwheel could take her rage out on the others.
But she only got a meter before the Applejack reared back and bucked another missile at her. Painwheel felt it smack against her chest. “Ghargh!” she grunted, before another missile shot out, and then another. Painwheel had to stop and block, first impotently with her arms, then by putting her Buar in front.
It almost seemed to work, and then one block of wood shot between the blades and hit Painwheel in the knee. Trinity be praised, as well, because it was her bad knee. “Hrraagh! Son of a bitch!” Her eyes were growing moist from not just the agony in her knee, but the collective pain she felt over her entire body. And with all the pain, she wasn't getting any closer to the source of it.
Painwheel stared at them. She clenched her teeth so hard she might have cracked her jaw.
I...hate you, she thought. I hate you so much.
“We've got her on the ropes, Applejack!” Rarity said, rummaging through the pile of refuse she salvaged from the bizarrely inflamed cart nearby. “That will teach her to ruin my fresh supply of Manehatten fabric! And also for hurting Rainbow Dash, of course!”
“That's great, Rarity,” Applejack said, attention fixed on the scoundrel. “Just keeping setting them up, and I'll keep knocking them out.” There really was nothing to worry about now. After those hits – and what the monster did to her own knee (yikes!) - that varmint wasn't getting anywhere near them. Sure, they'd underestimated it before, but watching Pinkie Pie dodge using her Pinkie Sense gave Applejack a pretty solid idea of the monster's capabilities now. It might be able to fly, and on a good stretch it can move when it needs to, but when the chips are down, the thing is deadly up close and useless at range.
And then the creature dropped its defense and stood up. “What the hay is it doin'?”
Painwheel hated using them. By far the most painful of her moves...was the one that involved dislocating her own knee and running a spike through it. No contest there. But near everything involving the parasites hurt. And that included the stingers.
She clenched, keeping her arm raised and level. Skin bulged on her forearm, the pressure building slowly. Instinct told Painwheel to abandon the tactic because of the unpleasantness building to a fever pitch. But then again, her instincts told her to do a lot of things she ended up not doing. Running headfirst into dangerous situations, deliberately pushing spikes through her flesh from the inside, picking a fight with a Skullgirl when Painwheel had no obligation to do so. Even continuing their little brawl, despite the punishment she'd endured.
But there was something else instinct recommended that Painwheel highly agreed with: kill. Instinct tended to flip-flop frequently.
Finally, the pressure spilled out. A large, unattached stinger exploded (painfully of course) from her wrist, flying out at the orange one.
“What in Sam Hill!?” Applejack screamed, dropping to the ground. Her hat, buoyed by wind resistance, hung above her. Hung and floated just in time to get hit by the stinger, embedding both in the wall behind. Applejack's forelegs, thrown over her head, touched her pate and found it hatless. Examination above revealed her stetson's location.
Applejack stood corrected. The monster could attack at range too.
“Oh my word!” Rarity gasped, looking from the pinned hat to Applejack and then to the monster. Rarity gasped again. “Eek!” she said, diving to the side to avoid yet another stinger.
Unfortunately their position offered no cover. Painwheel decided to up the ante. She began squeezing her fist again, with greater ferocity; it resulted in a corresponding rise in pressure, greater than before.
Applejack and Rarity eyed their opponent, tracking her. Applejack in particular jumped from hoof to hoof, ready to dodge out of the way. Which way would it come? Left or right?
Instead, Painwheel aimed up when she fired. And instead of only one stinger, she fired five. Configured to spread over the area, arcing so they would fall from above.
“Oh that just ain't fair!” Applejack said, watching the stingers reach their apex. When they started coming down, Applejack grabbed the now paralyzed Rarity around the shoulders and pushed her along to the only safe place: forward.
The two mares slammed to the street many paces away from the building, hearing the impact of the stingers on the sidewalk. Applejack sat up, panting. Then she noticed bare, filthy feet come into view. She looked up. Beside her, Rarity looked up too, releasing a gasp.
Painwheel stood before them, tightening her arms so they would release their spiky contents upon her attack. She had them right where she wanted them.
“Whoops! Can't have that!”
A voice from behind made Painwheel jump. Oh no...
“Here's frosting in your eye!” Pinkie Pie shouted, planting two cupcakes right into the human's eyes.
“What? AAAAAH!” screamed Painwheel, clutching her face. Her mask, thankfully, had glass lenses over the eyes. Ripping the cake part away did little to remove the frosting, so she began wiping at the lenses frantically. Just as she started to see again – albeit in a cloudy manner, because frosty wreaked havoc on the lenses – the force of a speeding car slammed into her chest, sending her flying. “Ooof! Ugh!”
“Now like I was saying earlier,” Applejack called from somewhere unseen by Painwheel, “How do you like them apples!?”
Landing. There's another pain to add to her list. That and being bucked in the chest, of course. “Damnit...” she groaned, clutching her chest. She fought back the desperate urge to cough. Luckily the impact hadn't collapsed her sternum, or she'd be dead. “Damnit!” She rubbed at her lenses again, finally clearing away the last of the frosting. At least she could see. And she wasn't stopping. She gasped, “Is...is that...all you got?”
“Not yet!”
Painwheel looked up to the sky. A rainbow trail shot from the roof of a nearby building...followed by two more winged ponies. All three began circling overhead. “What?” Painwheel said, staring at it.
“We're...just...getting started!” Rainbow Dash called, wincing. But despite her pain, she displayed that cocksure grin. “Come on girls! Let's blow this monster away!”
Fluttershy watched her alicorn princess friend struggle with her horn. The appendage blinked, fizzled, blinked, and popped out. Twilight grimaced, panting and straining under the weight. “Just...a little more...” Twilight said, taking another furtive glance on the fight.
Her friends were down below, risking their hides. She had to come through for them when the time came...she just wished she had the energy.
“...it's no good...” she said, letting the horn fizzle out after another failed attempt. “I've been casting spells all day. Those magic missiles, the targeted teleport over a mile of distance, even that bubble I put the kids in. I don't have enough right now to do the spell we need right now.”
“So what you're saying,” said Rainbow Dash, leaning uncomfortably over the side of the roof, “is that we need plan B?” Dash looked to Twilight with a serious expression. She fluttered her wings, wincing.
“Plan B? What Plan B?” Twilight said, before clarity came in. “No, Dash, no! You can't mean to-”
“I do,” Rainbow Dash said, hopping up on the raised edge. “I'll do it myself. I can give you the effect you need, you know it. You're an egghead, Twilight. Tell me the science isn't sound.”
For what Dash intended, the science was surprisingly sound. That fact would impress the scholar princess more if it wasn't so horribly suicidal given the circumstances. “It doesn't matter if it could work, Rainbow Dash,” said Twilight, moving to grab her friend. When the pegasus hopped back and staggered in pain, Twilight motioned to the makeshift bandage. “You can't go out with that injury! It's barely slowed bleeding as it is!”
“And if I don't go, our friends keep holding out for help that'll never come!” Dash yelled, getting back on solid hoofing. “I don't care if I die if it means saving them!”
“But Rainbow Dash!” Fluttershy interjected, nervously looking for a place she could lay hooves on her fellow pegasus without eliciting further discomfort. Not finding any satisfactory spot, she kept talking, “You're too weak to do it. Too weak alone.” Fluttershy frowned deeply, tears threatening to manifest.
“Alone...” Twilight mumbled, letting the word hang for a moment between the three.
Rainbow Dash shook her head. “I won't ask for you to help. Just let me go and, come whatever may, do what you need to do after. Got it?” Grit teeth were needed when she stretched her back; a tear of pain rolled down her cheek. She looked down, seeing Pinkie Pie just blinded the monster with cupcakes. As Applejack bucked it away, Rainbow crouched. “It's now or never, girls. If I don't come back, it's been cool.” She smiled weakly.
“Is...that all you got?” the monster called from below.
“Not yet!” Rainbow called in return, launching off.
Twilight and Fluttershy looked on, seeing their friend fly off into the storm to come.
Then Fluttershy jumped up. “Rainbow Dash, I'm coming with!” Twilight watched in surprise as Fluttershy, the most timid of her friends, took off to battle.
“Well, I guess there's nothing for it,” Twilight said, frowning. Her eyes focused hard. She too flew off.
As they took their place above the battlefield, Rainbow Dash looked behind, seeing her winged friends following. She decided to spend her smile of joy by turning a cocky grin upon their target. “We're...just...getting started!”
At first, the three winged ponies lazily circled. Then, slowly, they began to pick up speed, mostly on the Rainbow Dash's part. Their behavior, especially in light of one being injured, perplexed the human greatly.
Then she saw light materials around her whipped about by steadily increasing winds.
“Ugh...no way...” Painwheel said, messaging her battered chest. The weight of her rage was waning, replaced with the growing realization that their fight lasted far longer than it should. She contemplated activating the Buar, riding the winds and taking the fight up to them...and then smacked her head.
In retrospect, not the smartest move. She hissed, headache made worse. Shit.
No, those were creatures of the air. The only reason she came close to beating the Rainbow Dash in flight was because of surprise. That advantage was no longer available. They were in their element, and Painwheel was too weak to engage them there.
Change of tactics. She raised her fist, preparing to fire another stinger. She strained, trying to increase the pressure. “Khugh...” she grunted, squeezing as hard as she could. But nothing came out.
I'm out of stingers, she thought. Her red eyes grew wide under her lenses. Moreover, she had to struggle to open her hand again. She'd cramped it fiercely. “Ack! Shit!” Shaking the hand did little to alleviate the soreness. She bent over, supporting herself on a bent knee. Then it hit her: she was at her physical limit.
It hadn't been the Skullgirl who pushed her so far. Or rather, it was the Skullgirl and everyone else, and now these ponies. Painwheel had nothing left. She brought her cramped hand to the face hidden beneath her mask. It suddenly occurred to her that, without that leather, she might have been knocked out when that piece of metal got bucked in her face. It was only by luck she had endured under this kind of punishment.
And for what? What had this entire battle gained her? What had her fight with the ponies wrought? No, better question: what had any of her fights after throwing off Brain Drain's control gotten her?
Should have just ditched the entire mess, she thought, feeling the wind grow into a tornado that flowed around her. Should have just run away. Fuck the nurse. Fuck the Skullgirl. Should have let any of those others fight them. It wasn't my business or my problem anymore. I was free then. I could have gone home. No, I could have called home, told them what happened. Then Mom and Dad...then they'd have known. They'd have come get me themselves. I could have been at home by now! My pain would still be there, but at least I'd have Mom and Dad!
A piece of wood flew around and smacked Painwheel in the shoulder. “Uh!”
All around her, the winds were growing worse. They were so bad that Painwheel began to feel them pull at her. She fell to the ground, trying to find a hand hold. When the pavement proved fruitless in that respect, Painwheel pushed at her parasites. Painful spikes shot from her wrists and feet, embedding in the ground.
No, she thought, it doesn't matter anymore. If nothing else, I'm not going to submit. Try to blow me away? I'll ride it out, you bitches!
That plan gave her satisfaction right up to when she tried to inhale, and got nothing.
She had exhaled, and nothing came back in. Painwheel retracted a hand spike from the ground, allowing her to reach to her neck. Her eyes went wide. She gagged, choked. Looking around, she realized what was wrong.
They're...they're sucking all the air from this spot!
Painwheel panicked. “...” She tried yelling, but nothing came forth. She beat the ground with her free hand, frantically trying to find a way out. Easiest thing would be to look go of the ground, try to run. But then she'd be blown away, at the mercy of the harsh winds. And even if she didn't, she wasn't running through that angry wall of wind without getting hurt, probably killed. Couldn't stay, couldn't leave.
Her heart pounded. Not good when all that accomplished was burning through her air faster.
Spots formed before her eyes. She couldn't hear the wind anymore over the blood churning through her ears. Sweat seeped from every pore, drenching her. Muscles loosened; they couldn't be supported anymore. She tried to gasp, to catch any breath of air. Just one wisp. Nothing came.
I'm...I'm going to die here? Is this...really...how I...?
Then the wind died down. The roaring stopped. Painwheel forced herself to look up, and saw the tornado imprisoning her fall apart.
And then she tasted air. Painwheel gasped deliriously. Hope at last! Air!
It just wasn't enough. She couldn't get a lung full.
Was that it!? No! It can't be! Painwheel unhooked herself from the ground fully, trying weakly to waft air to her mouth. Why wasn't more air getting in? She barely got anything, and she needed air bad. Then she touched her mask, and sickening realization kicked in. It was her mask. It was too tight, too restricting.
For the first real time in her life, and strangely for the first time since having the mask attached, Painwheel felt claustrophobic.
Get it off! Get it off! Brain Drain you bastard, why didn't you put nose holes!? Why did you need to put this mask on in the first place!?
She tried to open her mouth more, but her jaws felt weak. They couldn't work against the straps. Yet more panic set in. The winds were dead, their suction dispelled. Painwheel had all the air she could ever crave right there, and a thin veneer of cow hide kept it from her.
GET. IT. OFF.
Painwheel placed her strong hand at the edge, digging in under the seams. Those seams pulled on her face; they stung. Painwheel didn't care. She planted her feet solidly on the ground. She needed traction.
With all her might, Painwheel pulled. Her arms were oxygen-starved, full of lactic acid. Pain greater than even the parasites rocked her muscles. She endured it. She tugged once, and the mask stayed. She tugged again, and she felt one of the cords tear out. She endured it, setting her jaw solidly clamped shut. Her vision still swam.
One. Last. Tug.
With sickening pops, the cords connecting the leather to her face came wrenching free. Finally, the entire thing came away, leaving it gripped in her cramping fist. That made two, but it didn't matter.
Painwheel gasped loudly, feeling the coolness of the outside. Her face sported an X-shaped scar pattern, with perpendicular cuts crossing over it in regular patterns. And it hurt like hell,despite how much the sudden release was on her confined skin. But none of that mattered.
She could breath again. She doubled over, sucking precious air greedily.
So greedily she barely minded how the surge of breath sent her into fits of coughing. She clutched her chest, still gripping the mask. Cold sweat poured from her face, stinging the wounds that, thanks to the thick Skullgirl blood, barely oozed any bodily humor. She hacked and wheezed. Somewhere near, a cacophony of shocked and concerned voices rang out. But Painwheel didn't hear them. Didn't care.
She smiled, feeling that delicious gas filling her lungs. She could finally breathe.
Rising to her feet, she even noticed her vision was clearing. She thought she could see...
“Rarity! Do it now!”
Glowing sheets of cloth shot around Painwheel, wrapping themselves around her arms and knees and neck and even the Buar. The human remembered. And she grew angry.
“What!?” she gasped, which induced another fit of coughing. She looked around. All six mares surrounded her, with the white unicorn front and center. Just off to the side, the pink pony and the alicorn ministered to the multi-colored pegasus, pressing heavy scraps of cloth against a side that flowed with new blood.
Then more sheets of fabric coiled around Painwheel's limbs. “No...gasp...fuck...you!” she yelled. She charged the Buar, intent on cutting through all the bothersome bindings. It spun, she could hear it...then suddenly stopped. “What?” She turned her head, only to see the blades were positively buried in cloth. At that cloth stopped the motor. Those blades could cut through steel, yet pliable thread yielded, especially at the base of the blades where they were least able to cut.
“No! Stop it!” Painwheel shouted, tugging against the sheets. But there was no hand to pull against, only telekinetic force, subtly guiding the threads around her. They started to wrap and pull. Her resistance was feeble, her limbs weakened by time, effort, and shortness of breath. “Damnit stop!” Instead, the fabric wound around her, squeezing her more and more. “Let...me...go!”
Had to get free. Came this far, couldn't let herself be bound now.
A little more pain hardly mattered. Painwheel tried to release all her spikes, like she had before. Her muscles strained, the pressure building...and then stopped building. Her muscles gave out, and she had to relax them. “Can't...I can't...” she said, coughing lightly. Relaxing her muscles gave the threads a chance to constrict tighter around her shoulders, stomach, and knees. “No! Let me go! You bitch!”
“Oh really now,” Rarity said, cocking an eyebrow, “let's not reduce ourselves to name calling. I am Rarity! Miss Rarity to you! And I hardly think you're in any position to dictate orders, especially with what you've done today!”
“Fuck...you...” Painwheel wheezed, grimacing. At least without her mask, barring her teeth actually served to visibly unnerve the pony opposite her, if only a little. Didn't cause Miss Rarity to let up any. The layers of cloth grew thicker with each pass around. Even Painwheel's Buar Drive was wrapped down against her back, immovable.
Painwheel tried to push the spikes out again...and found she couldn't even muster the strength or the muscular leverage necessary to push them out. She looked down wildly, anger slowly giving way to fear. The Buar failed her. The parasites failed her. Even her own muscles failed her. It was all she could do to stop from toppling over.
She tried to wriggle out, grunting and coughing as she went, but she got nowhere. The last of the fabric wound around, the magic tying them up into little bows. Painwheel was bound in a makeshift straightjacket.
And then the rope fell over her head and tightened around her arms. “And now it's my turn again!” Applejack said, gripping the end of the lasso in her teeth and pulling it.
Under normal circumstances, Painwheel could probably give the Applejack a run for her money when it came to a tug of war. Or just cut through the rope. As it stood, Painwheel fell over pathetically with the pulling. “AAAGH!” she shouted. Then the dragging started, plumes of dirt and dust floating up where she traveled.
Painwheel's frenetic wriggling did her little good as she was hoisted up by the rope slung over the bar of a store sign. She was lifted just an inch above the ground. Even trying tippy toes, she couldn't reach. Struggling, coughing, and cursing, Painwheel swung like a pendulum.
“Now,” said Twilight Sparkle just outside Painwheel's field of vision, “you're up next.” Her voice paused, with Painwheel straining to hear. “I know you can do it.”
“...right,” came the soft voice of the yellow pegasus. Painwheel saw the Fluttershy waltz into view.
Painwheel stopped her struggling a moment to examine Fluttershy. The pony looked at first unsure. Nervous even. Then they met eyes. Fluttershy looked to the side. Whatever she saw – and Painwheel had a sinking feeling about what – it emboldened the mare, because she looked back again...with a hard, focused glare. She frowned deeply.
Something about that look sent a shiver down Painwheel's spine.
“How dare you!?” Fluttershy shouted, getting closer. “How dare you hurt my friends?”
Painwheel was taken aback. Where had this sudden courage, this hitherto unknown fury come from? Was this the same pony as before? The human scowled. “Fuck you! You don't know me!”
A raised eyebrow. “What was that?”
Hesitation. More curses formed in the pit of her stomach, but Painwheel couldn't voice them. She could only stare into those...those intense pony eyes.
“Well?”
Painwheel flinched. “I...I...”
“Don't you talk back to me, young lady,” Fluttershy said, stepping closer. “You've been a very, very bad girl. Just because you're lost and alone doesn't give you the right to snap at everypony you meet. Just because you're angry doesn't mean you can attack them. Just because you're losing doesn't mean you have to be sore about it and fight until everything around you is destroyed.”
Oh no, she did not just, Painwheel thought, growing furious. “Go to hell!”
“Now I won't be having anymore language from you,” Fluttershy stated, coming as close as she walk, standing right up against the human. “You're in enough trouble already.” Painwheel wilted.
What was wrong with her? Painwheel wanted, if no other reason than stubborn, incensed spite, to resist this pony. There were no more violent recourse to be had, no means of physical resistance. She couldn't move. But she could still resist, and she'd do it until the end. She didn't have her strength, but she still had her will.
“Now apologize,” Fluttershy ordered.
“No!” Painwheel said, practically spitting in the pagasus' face.
“Say you're sorry.”
“No!”
“You will say you're sorry,” said Fluttershy, leaning in to look Painwheel right in the eyes.
“I. Will. NOT!” Painwheel was doing it. Even if it was only a refusal of apology, she could still resist. She could still obtain a semblance of a victory. She could still win.
And there was nothing the simpering, presumptuous bitch could do or say otherwise.
Fluttershy's eyes narrowed. “You will. Do it now. Say. You're. Sorry.” She slammed her face right into Painwheel's.
It became a staring contest. Weakest, meekest pony in the land versus the killing machine.
Painwheel blinked.
She looked deep into those big eyes, and just...couldn't... “I...” Painwheel's deranged scowl dissolved, replaced by abject fear. “...I...”
“SAY IT!”
“I'M SORRY!” Painwheel squealed, averting her eyes. She braced herself, turning her head as far as she could. Anything to get away from that look. That horrible gaze.
“Look at me when you say it!” Fluttershy ordered.
Painwheel turned back, then despaired. The gaze was still there, and it was demanding. “I'm sorry!” she cried. “I'm sorry okay! I said it!”
“And what are you sorry for?”
“I'm sorry for stealing food! I'm sorry for yelling at ponies! I'm sorry for stopping the runaway cart driven by those kids!”
“Wait what?” Applejack said, somewhere nearby.
“Shoosh!” Fluttershy said. She turned back to Painwheel. “What else are you sorry for?”
“I'm sorry for getting mad at those kids. I'm sorry for trying to kill you and your friends!” Tears started forming in the corners of Painwheel's eyes. “I'm sorry for hurting your friend! I'm sorry! I'm sorry for everything!”
“It hurts!” Painwheel cried, tears falling down her scarred cheeks. “It hurts all the time! It never stops! It hurts and I can't stop it and everything in my life was ruined!” She started sobbing.
“Um...” Fluttershy wasn't feeling all so up for intensity anymore. Her dominating ego act softened, shifting back into normal, sympathetic mode. “That's alright, I forgive you. Just don't...”
“And no matter what I try, I...I can't make it stop hurting...it's always on...” Painwheel wept openly, mucus pouring from her nose, mixing with tears and sweat. “Please...I don't know...what...what to d-do...and...and I'm...so tired...” She sniffed, an act which set off a furious bout of coughing.
Fluttershy looked around to her friends. Until a minute ago they were, even if they didn't want to admit it, ready to lynch the violent, unreasonable creature that wandered into town and started wrecking things. And then it started crying. Many of their group shifted uneasily on their hooves.
“Please...please,” Carol sobbed. “Please...I'm...so t-tired...it just hurts...I'm so sorry...” She didn't even know what was going on anymore.
Fluttershy looked to their leader. “Um...”
Twilight sighed. “I've got it.” Fluttershy vacated the spot, letting Twilight take over. Luckily, she had just enough strength for the final spell.
Carol peeked her puffy eyes open. The alicorn – Twilight Sparkle – was there. Her horn glowed bright purple. “Sleep,” she said, bringing the horn to Carol's forehead.
A very drowsy human flipped her head from one side to another, grunting. She could hear voices.
“Oh it's not a bother at all, darling. But are you absolutely sure you're alright? Your mane is a mess, and it looks like you haven't slept in days.”
Sleep. Yes, sleep is good. The human nuzzled her head deeper in...whatever it was supporting it. It was soft.
“Yeah, Sugarcube, ya'll look like ah did when I tried bucking the entire crop that one year.”
“To tell you the truth...yawn...I have been up all night. Taking care of our...guest had me pretty busy. So busy I just haven't had the time to nap. So much to do.”
The human certainly didn't envy whoever was talking. She felt like she was in the best place in the world...wherever that was.
Where was she anyway?
“I mean, I had to find binding spells strong enough to hold her when she woke up.”
What? The human tried to turn over from her back, attempting to lift an arm. It stopped immediately, the iron manacles she wore refusing to budge an inch. The minute movement also stirred the parasite in her arm, eliciting a cringe. She settled back where she was, letting the parasite settle down.
Oh. That's right. She was captured.
Painwheel frowned, leaving herself where she was. Pain and being bound were problems she would much rather deal with later. She relaxed her body, intent on falling back into unconsciousness.
It didn't help that things felt strangely drafty. And that the voices wouldn't stop talking.
“About that. You sure these things will hold it? Shouldn't we have a cage?”
“I'm sure Rainbow Dash. This is the best spell I could find that wasn't the effects of some magical artifact or high level binding ritual. They'll hold, even on that bothersome rotating blade.”
In spite of her desire to leave everything for later, Painwheel's curiosity was piqued. She tried to turn the Buar. It clicked a bit, but was otherwise not moving. She sighed quietly to herself, wishing she could turn onto her side.
And it was still drafty.
“By the way, Dash, how are you feeling?”
“Much better. Those guys at the hospital fixed me up and let me go in no time. Said some malarkey about 'taking it easy' and 'not doing anything that could reopen the wound'. It's totally lame.”
“Rainbow Dash, please take this seriously...I mean, if that's okay...”
“Fluttershy is right, Rainbow Dash. You mustn't strain yourself.”
“Yeah, yeah. Ugh...cut still hurts anyway, so I guess I'm grounded. Anyway, Twilight, it can't have taken you all night just to find one lousy spell.”
“Ah agree. Why didn't you sleep after that?”
“Well yes, it didn't take all that long to find the spell. But I didn't want to be caught sleeping in case she woke up and could get out anyway.”
“Yes, and how long, may I ask, has the creature been asleep?”
“The spell was a basic magical sedative, useful for eight hours...”
Should have been longer. Painwheel nuzzled back into her...pillow?
“...but I didn't see her wake up at all. Hey Spike! Did you see her wake up when I wasn't looking?”
A distant, unfamiliar voice called from elsewhere, strangely muffled, “Naw, I didn't see anything. Slept like a rock.”
“See? Our guest has been sleeping for nearly an entire day. I suppose the strain and injuries from yesterday took their toll.”
Oh, that's considerably more. Painwheel debated whether now would be a good time to give up trying to sleep.
No, she could probably put off business for longer. She still felt tired. And drafty.
Why was she so drafty?
“So while I waited, I decided to research as much as I could about her. That meant thorough physical examination.”
Wait...what was that last part?
“It's really fascinating just how much punishment she took and still remained active enough to pose a threat.”
What's this about an examination?
Painwheel finally opened her eyes, blinking in the presence of the sunlight. She was in some kind of basement. Machines and beakers crowded her peripheral vision. She turned her head to look towards the sound of talking. Right there were five mares, milling around. Twilight Sparkle stood before the rest, attempting a detailed lecture that the others only looked slightly interested in.
Then Painwheel looked down at herself.
“...cuts closed and bruises shrunk measurably over hours of observation. Or at least they did once we hooked her to an IV...”
“WHY AM I NAKED!?”
The assembled ponies flinched at the noise, looking over at their captive.
Painwheel was altogether done trying to sleep. She struggled against her bonds, grunting and panting. Unbelievable. Simply unbelievable. She was strapped to some kind of reclining padded chair, with glowing chains looped through her wrist, ankle, and neck bands, as well extended over her stomach. Other than those metal bands, she was stark nude.
It pissed her off. “Let me out of here! You can't do this to me!” she growled, trying to disengage herself to no avail.
Twilight Sparkle trotted over, a confident smile on her face. “I think you'll find your bindings to be inescapable. They're the best magic I could apply, the kind used for high profile Equestrian criminals. There's no breaking free.”
Painwheel stopped thrashing – the act was doing more damage to herself than the chains – but refused to calm down. “Fuck you, bitch! And why do I have to be naked?” She looked down at her emaciated, ugly form, then back at the ponies. They could see everything. Painwheel blushed heavily.
No it's not blushing, she thought. I'm just angry! Angry as hell!
The purple alicorn looked back and forth between Painwheel's face and body, blushing lightly herself. “Oh...oh my, he he he.” Twilight giggled nervously. “I...wasn't aware the human species was so uncomfortable with public nudity.”
“No shit!” Painwheel said, moving as close as possible to the pony in spite of her bindings. “No shit I...wait what?” Rage fell away by a huge increment, replaced with mild ire and confusion. “...how do you know I'm a human?”
“Yeah, ah was wonderin' the same thing myself,” Applejack spoke up. It made Painwheel a bit less angry that Applejack seemed to understand her plight, and held her hat in front of her face to block the view. Right behind her, Fluttershy had taken to simply covering her face entirely, blushing heavily. “What's a human? And how do you know that she is one?”
The alicorn beamed. “I'm very glad you asked!” She stood right next to Painwheel.
“Hey Twilight!” said Rainbow, growing worried. “Should you really be getting that close? I don't want you ending up like me or worse!”
“Oh it's fine, Rainbow Dash,” Twilight said, waving a hoof is dismissal. “Our captive knows that if she uses her spikes to harm or even kill any of us, the others won't hesitate to punish her. Probably through summery execution. That, or the authorities will. Isn't that right?” She looked down at Painwheel.
You're so lucky you're right you cocky bitch, Painwheel thought, scowling. The urge to flex a parasite to punch a hole through the pony at that range was staggering. Stupid consequences, always getting in the way of her totally justified rage. “Hrm...”
“Anyway, discovering her species name requires some explanation,” Twilight said. “And I figure the best way would be to show you directly. This might sting a bit.” Her horn lit up.
“Wait whoa,” Painwheel said, looking up at the light. She squirmed in her seat. “What are you doing?”
Twilight's horn shot a cloud of aura that enveloped Painwheel's body. It tingled, she found. Barely even noticeable compared to the regular pain coming from the parasites.
The parasites that she suddenly got to see as her entire body went transparent.
“Whoa!” Rainbow Dash said.
“Nelly!” Applejack said, dropping her stetson.
“Oh...my...” Fluttershy said, peeking between her hooves.
“My word! That's just disturbing,” Rarity said, looking to find the sight of exposed internal organs repulsive. Despite that, she couldn't turn away.
“What the hell!?” Painwheel shouted, looking back and forth between her body and the alicorn. She was naked already, and the pony decided to strip her down even more. “How dare you...you...” Painwheel stopped, taking another look down at her see-through form. She'd hardly realized the first time, but she COULD see them.
She scowled.
“This, everypony...or rather, every-body I suppose,” said Twilight Sparkle, waving a hoof before the human, “is another spell I found. It came from a medical textbook. It was created to make medical examination easier. As I understand it, the spell is utilized in some major hospitals and universities, but it's quite complex so only a limited number of specialists can use it. You can no doubt see the applications...as well as the operative problem...” She pointed, but everyone already focused on the sight in question.
They could see the parasites. Painwheel could too. She clenched her hands, barring her teeth.
Ugly things. Black, pointy, ugly masses of tendrils snaking their way around her body. Like the roots of a particularly persistent weed, they burrowed in almost any spot they could find. They even coiled around internal organs, holding them hostage. There were six, though they intertwined so readily it was difficult to count. But if one knew where to look, it was easy; just count the number of ends terminating in the nail-like structures sticking out of her shoulders, thighs, and the back of her head.
You, she thought, the rage palpable. It's your fault. Because of you.
“...I can see you're already aware of them,” said Twilight, coughing into her hoof. “It was these things that clued me into your true nature. I had originally assumed the spikes she could manifest were a natural facet of her biology. But when I used this spell to study the internal damage from the fight, I realized they weren't.”
“Wait, how can you tell?” Rarity asked, tearing her eyes away from the grotesque sight.
“Because if they were part of the organism the spell was cast on, they too would be transparent,” Twilight answered. “But they aren't, meaning we're looking not at specialized offensive organs, but rather creatures living in symbiosis with the host. From what I can tell, harmful symbiosis. In a word, they are parasites.
“They are also the source of our subject's constant pain.”
The other ponies watched Painwheel; watched her seethe in resentment. It was uncomfortable, and profoundly sad.
Painwheel found herself rather like a stray dog, infected with stomach worms or skin parasites. Moaning and writhing in pain, stressed eternally, yet incapable of doing anything about it. This uncomfortable comparison all the more apt because like that stray dog, she had no home, no aid, no source of good food or adequate rest.
And now she could see the source of her pain. If she'd been free, Painwheel would have taken a knife to her body in an attempt to dig them out. That she wasn't free, and that she'd end up doing more harm than good, was the worst sting of all.
“Oh, you poor baby,” Fluttershy said, rushing over. She threw her legs over the human, shocking the latter to attention.
“Gah!” Painwheel said. Briefly the urge to shoot the Gae Bolga into the pony returned.
“It must be so awful, living with these inside you,” Fluttershy said, hugging the human's transparent flesh. Admittedly the effect disconcerted the pegasus, but her compassion overruled it. “Don't worry, we'll find a way to remove them. I promise.” She nuzzled her snout into Painwheel's stomach.
Then she looked up into Painwheel's face, and saw it looked unamused. “Hrmm...” Painwheel growled. The Fluttershy was certainly not Painwheel's favorite.
“Oh...um...I'm sorry...” Fluttershy said, taking herself off the human. “Maybe I should give you some...personal space...if that's okay...” She ran back around to stand behind Applejack. She peeked around the farmer's rump, still watching Painwheel.
Applejack just sighed at the sad display she was roped into. “Ah reckon that's pretty sad and all,” she said, “but what does that have to do with learnin' what she is?”
Twilight Sparkle shot to attention. “Oh right! Well, when I was done finding a way to contain her, I began researching what she was. But few species have among their traits things like spines or quills. Fewer still were large enough, fewer than that could manipulate theirs anywhere near like she could...and not even a single one of those were bipedal. Dragons can walk upright and have spikes, but it's obvious she isn't a dragon.
“It was only once I gave up and moved to using this spell to examine her insides that I realized the spikes were a red herring. Both they and the mechanical blade tail are artificial, outside additions to a more mundane template. With that in mind, I began researching bipeds in general.” The alicorn ran to the other side of the room, shuffling around stacks of books. She found one already open, and levitated it over. “It's then that I found an obscure zoological reference to a rare creature: the Human.”
Painwheel strained her head, trying to get a good look at the book in question. In spite of her pain – in spite of her spite, ironically – she was very curious.
“'Human. Mammalian, bipedal, omnivorous,'” Twilight recited. “'Lacks significant amounts of body hair. Sapiant, and intelligent. Capable of complex speech. Possess fine manipulators in the form of fingered hands, like primates. Used primary for created complex tools.
“'First encountered in low numbers by Pack Watcher, natural philosopher in the employ of the burgeoning Canterlot University, while in the Smokey Mountains. Origins unknown; Pack Watcher merely being told the humans came from far away.'” Twilight looked up from the book. “This particular tome cites what appears to be a book of anthropology penned by Pack Watcher himself. Unfortunately I don't have a copy. When I sent a letter to Princess Celestia, I requested the book be searched for in the Canterlot Castle library.”
She returned to the book. “'Notable features...' It's strange, but the author seemed to have crossed out the phrase there...'Mostly Harmless'...and substituted a larger paragraph. 'An apparently social species, Humans seems to also possess violent tendencies when threatened, as well as malice. They also show signs of compassion, depending on context, stress, level of understanding, and other mysterious factors. Humans possess capacity for great good and great harm, in apparently equal measure.'” Twilight put the book down. “That's all it says on the matter. It doesn't even have a picture.”
“Well that don't sound encouraging,” Applejack said, scratching her head. She looked to Painwheel. “By any chance is any of that accurate?”
Painwheel tilted her head, squinting one eyes. She thought back. Her parents of course loved her, at least before her transformation. Filia had been compassionate (as far as Painwheel's experience went; Filia did betray her), and had been learned. Had been; Painwheel wasn't so sure since Filia became...who she was now. Brain Drain – assuming he ever was a human – would certainly qualify as intelligent, and very evil.
Painwheel nodded. Intelligent? Capable of good and harm in equal measure? Sounds about right.
A giddy Twilight hopped up and down. “Oh, this is so exciting! To have a chance to research a creature barely mentioned in Equestria's long history! This is going to be so much fun!”
“Um, Twilight? Dear?” Rarity said.
“Huh?” Twilight said, coming down off her intellectual high. “What is it?”
“You mentioned having sent a message to Princess Celestia, did you not?”
“Yes, that I did. Right when we got back, I had Spike write a quick letter to the Princess telling her what happened, but that everything was fine. Then this morning, I was able to submit a fuller report on my findings so far.” Twilight beamed with pride. “Celestia messaged me back shortly thereafter. Unfortunately she's got pressing business in Canterlot, and so won't be able to come inspect the captive personally until tomorrow.
“Which gives me plenty of time to interview you now that you're awake,” she said, turning to Painwheel. The human leaned back, the alicorn's face getting dangerously close, smiling creepily.
Painwheel felt physically ill. She'd never liked doctors. Thanks to Brain Drain and Nurse Valentine, she liked them even less now. Now she was at the mercy of a crazed researcher with ties directly to Equestrian royalty.
Whatever Equestria is. Painwheel suddenly realized the knowledge of her basic surroundings were woefully limited. And it looked like Twilight Sparkle had every intention of steering discussion back to Painwheel herself.
“First question...and I'm sorry for not asking it earlier,” Twilight said, smile decreasing in intensity due to embarrassment, “What is your name?”
Blink. What does one say to that? Painwheel really wasn't in the mood to answer questions. Both because she began to feel the effects of her injuries on top of the usual parasite discomfort, and because she didn't particularly like anyone in the room.
However, all eyes were locked on her, watching expectantly. No matter what, these ponies weren't going to leave her alone unless she told them such a basic thing. They wouldn't very well call her “creature” or “human”. Or they would, if they had nothing to go on. The idea was frankly insulting. No, she had to give them at least that, annoying as it would be to divulge her secrets. She was still very angry.
Then there was the practical concern. What should she answer with? She supposed, since she was in a new world, freed at least from her old masters, she ought to cast off that unfortunate sobriquet and finally call herself Carol again.
And yet. “Painwheel.”
The ponies around her frowned, some mild, some acute. Twilight Sparkle looked confused. Rarity looked shocked. Fluttershy looked crestfallen. None of them looked amused.
“Pain...wheel?” Applejack asked, adjusting her hat nervously.
“Oh dear,” Fluttershy said, whispering.
“What kind of name is that?” Rainbow Dash said.
“I must agree,” Rarity added, “what parents name their child Painwheel?” She shuddered at the thought. “Seems awfully cruel.”
If only they knew, Painwheel thought. Although, upon further reflection, they seemed more concerned with what the name implied than the fact that “Painwheel” was not a name. Then again, one of them was named Rainbow Dash, so she supposed her codename fit in better with the naming scheme if nothing else.
Nervously, Twilight took hold of a nearby clipboard and scrawled some notes. “Well, I guess that's the answer to that.” She looked to her friends. “This is probably what I'm going to be doing for the next day or so. You girls can leave if you want. I'll keep you posted on what I learn.”
As the others filed out, Rarity stayed behind a moment. “Are you sure, dear? It might not be safe. One of us could stay around, if you need it.”
“Oh no, I doubt that'll be necessary,” Twilight said, jotting down notes on her pad. “Spike will be around if I really need help – or avenging I suppose, he he – and I won't be doing anything strenuous. I'm sure, after this interview, I'll have plenty to report to Princess Celestia. No doubt.”
Hours Later
“Please, please, please! Just tell me something! Anything! Please!”
“No,” Painwheel responded for the hundredth time.
Twilight Sparkle put her head in her hooves. Her interview wasn't going as well as she'd hoped.
Spike the dragon stood back as his employer/master/oldest friend, Twilight Sparkle, stomped up the stairs and fled from their basement, grunting and moaning in that way only a completely frustrated bookworm with obsessive compulsive tendencies could when confronted by what she perceived as idiocy. Spike frequently saw Twilight so incensed, and he had an idea as to the cause. “So I take it you're still holding out on her?”
Painwheel glanced up as the dragon made his way down the stairs, carrying a tray. A steamy bowl of soup was balanced upon it, alongside a glass of water with a straw inside. Painwheel sighed. “Dinner time?” she said, stomach growling in anticipation.
“Yep,” said Spike, ambling over. He placed the tray on a nearby table, balanced on a thick stack of books. He wished Twilight would put those away more readily. “Did you tell Twilight anything she wanted to know?”
Painwheel grunted. “No. I don't owe her anything. So far as I'm concerned, she doesn't deserve my cooperation.” She shut her eyes as she talked, in a haughty, arrogent manner. It reminded her of that nun. The one from the Divine Trinity church. The one that turned into a shapeshifting mass of flesh.
On second thought, maybe mimicking the master of mimics wasn't such a pleasing idea. Painwheel dropped it.
“I don't know,” Spike said, picking up the bowl and a spoon, “Twilight did treat your wounds, fix you up with an IV, provide you a place to stay, keep angry townsponies away with assurances that you're not going to get out and go on a rampage...” He stirred the soup, letting billows of steam rise off the liquid. Can't have things too hot; the human was apparently in enough pain as it was. “Seems to me like she's doing everything she can to help you, given the circumstances.”
“She also dropped a cart on my head and helped try to suffocate me,” Painwheel retorted, eying the soup hungrily.
“Yeah...you do have a point there,” Spike admitted, shrugging. He scooped a fair portion of broth and stewed vegetables onto the spoon. “I gathered you don't like hay, so I made an assortment of vegetables. Open wide.”
Painwheel gratefully opened her mouth, exposing her mass of off-color teeth. She supposed the processes that made her as she was messed them up. That and not being able to brush them for who knows how long. The spoon entered her mouth, and she ate it down. For being the first meal since the day before, and less tainted by frustration, the stew tasted divine. “Mmmm...”
“Glad you like it,” Spike said, dolling out more spoonfuls to his hungry charge. To the young dragon, Painwheel was pretty creepy, but learning alongside Twilight what her physical situation was made him more sympathetic. It helped, he supposed, that he wasn't around when she tore up the town and injured Rainbow Dash. It helped more that, being covered in thick scales, he was easily the least in danger from being attacked by those wily thorns of hers. “I still think you'd get a lot farther by being nice. I mean, I know you're hardly in a position to even fake niceness – chronic pain and all – but Twilight or Princess Celestia would be much more likely to let you off the leash if you cooperate.”
“Yeah, I'll play nice with my jailers,” Painwheel said in between bites. “Giving my masters what they want has done so much good for me.”
Spike blinked. That was...surprisingly informative. What “masters” had the girl toiled under? Probably the same ones who changed her in the first place, he wagered. Was she aware of the slip-up? It would seem even when she wanted to be obstinate, she ended up revealing things while trying to hide others. “Just something to think about, is all. Whoever you used to work for, I promise you'll get better treatment here.” He spooned more stew into the human's waiting gullet, grinning at how she seemed to enjoy it in spite of her attitude. “Did you tell Twilight anything? Anything at all?”
“Well...” Painwheel said, licking her lips thoughtfully. She looked down at her body. “I couldn't very well go on being naked all the time, so I promised to tell her one thing if she put my clothes back on. So she did.” The alicorn had, in fact, so wanted any clues to Painwheel's life that she caved immediately, using her magic to pop Painwheel's qipao onto her form. Or had that been a safety measure to avoid having to release Painwheel's bonds, even for a second?
Or maybe Twilight just realized she had left Painwheel to suffer the indignity long enough.
“That's something, I guess,” Spike said, scratching the back of his head. If he could avoid mentioning how he'd been around to see her naked plenty of times, he would. “What'd you tell her?”
“That I had no idea how I came to be here,” Painwheel said, summarily.
“...wait, that's it?”
“Yep,” she said, nodding her head. “It's an honest answer. I really don't know how I came to wake up outside the town, in this strange land.” She opened her mouth expectantly. When Spike begrudged her another spoonful, she continued, “And I do mean strange. You and the ponies talk about all these things I don't understand. Can you please explain what Equestria is to me? Who is this Princess Celestia, and what's her relation to Twilight Sparkle?”
Spike contemplated the request. This human was basically admitting that she won't talk about herself, yet expects to be educated herself. On the one hand, that seemed pretty presumptuous. On the other hand, sharing information about her surroundings and the socio-political climate might put the girl at ease, and make her more amenable to opening up herself. “Alright,” he said, collecting the last of the stew onto the spoon and popping it into her mouth. “I guess I've acted as Twilight's assistant long enough that I know my fair share about the world, one way or another.”
He placed the empty bowl on the tray, picking up the glass of water. Reaching over, he guided the straw into Painwheel's waiting mouth. She drank steadily while he spoke, “Equestria, as you've probably gathered, is a country primarily populated by ponies of the three races; pegasi, unicorns, and Earth ponies. It was founded by the three races many centuries ago, who settled in the land and made it a prosperous nation by overcoming their differences and working together in harmony.”
Painwheel finished off the glass, spitting out the straw. Gulp. “So what about Twilight Sparkle? She's both a unicorn and a pegasus. Is that a common union?” It seemed like a lifetime ago since Painwheel was last in school. She wasn't a bookworm like Filia, but she didn't detest learning.
“Well no, they aren't common at all,” Spike said, placing the glass down. “They're the Alicorn ponies, and they're pretty rare. Not naturally occurring either. Twilight wasn't even always one.”
“Really?” Painwheel said, eyebrows shooting up.
“Yeah, she was originally a unicorn, and the private student of Princess Celestia. She's the ruler – er, co-ruler alongside her sister Princess Luna.” Spike scratched the back of his head. “Those two are the diarchs of Equestria, powerful alicorns who have lived thousands of years and control the sun and moon.”
If it weren't for the fact that her world was rather strange and filled with powerful forces, something she knew even before her transformation, Painwheel would have found these things silly. As it was, she felt the dragon's explanation was probably accurate enough, or a close approximation to the truth. And that scared her. “Oh...and this cosmically-powerful pony royal is coming here tomorrow?”
“Yep,” Spike said, grinning. “She'll be here in the morning. Now, let me tell you about how Twilight became an alicorn. It all started way back when Celestia sent us here to Ponyville...”
Twilight Sparkle couldn't sleep.
She tossed over in her bed. What was she going to do? Princess Celestia, Twilight's teacher and mentor, was mere hours away from touching down in Ponyville. And in spite of a solid afternoon's uninterrupted interview with Painwheel, Twilight learned practically nothing new about the human. It was almost inconceivable.
What was wrong with Painwheel? Didn't she understand Twilight only wanted to help? What was she hiding? Did she truly despise the alicorn that much? Or did Painwheel have ulterior motives?
Sweat formed on Twilight's brow, soaking her purple fur. She tossed over to the other side. Was it too warm? She wriggled the blankets from her extremities, letting the night air suck away the heat.
Was Painwheel all there was of humans in Equestria? Was she truly alone? Or...was she merely the first in a line of modified, weaponized soldiers? Twilight Sparkle gulped wearily, heart pounding suddenly at the thought. Painwheel was in poor condition; certainly no condition to treat any creature, especially not a fighter. But then again, Painwheel's greatest strength in their battle was a seemingly boundless rage. Fury pushing the poor girl to unthinkable ferocity. It allowed her to shrug off repeated injury. Was that the intention of her creators? To drive her berserk, and sick her on their enemies?
Did Equestria count among those enemies? If so, who were Painwheel's masters? Where did they come from? The only thing the human admitted was that she didn't know how she came to be outside Ponyville. Was this a lie, or an accurate statement from Painwheel's experience? Was she dropped off in the hopes she caused trouble? Or did she escape somehow, and wind up there without her knowing? Were her masters the descendents of those few humans encountered by Pack Watcher? Or were they other people entirely, humans (or something else) from outside Equestria's context?
The more Twilight thought about it, the more she tossed back and forth on her bed. Perspiration seeped into the sheets, rendering them damp and clingy. Twilight grimaced, discomfort taking its toll on the alicorn.
Whatever the case, Twilight needed to figure out what Painwheel's story was. And she needed to do it before Celestia arrived.
Just the thought of her mentor tightened Twilight's heart like a vice. The Princess – the other one – counted on Twilight to investigate the matter where Celestia could not. If Twilight didn't deliver any new information, how would Celestia respond? She'd probably be disappointed. Disappointed in Twilight.
She rolled over, suddenly feeling too cold. The damp sheets grew cool when exposed to the night air, so she wrapped the blanket around her fully again. She bit her lip.
If Celestia was disappointed in Twilight's findings, she might think Twilight – Princess of Friendship – was lax in her efforts to befriend the human and gain her trust. That Twilight didn't deserve her position. Then Celestia might strip her of it, reverting her back to a unicorn. Maybe she'll even take away Twilight's horn for good measure, and cast her from royal society. And then...
Twilight Sparkle smacked her face with her hoof, shaking her head.
No, what was she thinking? Twilight was spiraling again. It was a habit she too readily indulged in the past, working herself into a nervous frenzy. Worrying about every possible outcome, even ones patently absurd, unlikely, or out of character. More than once it led to disaster. Twilight couldn't let herself devolve into it again. She was a princess now.
She breathed deeply, wiping beads of sweat from her brow.
No, everything was going to be alright. Princess Celestia would arrive on the scene, and understand the kinds of conditions Twilight was under. She would never be disappointed that research was taking longer than a few days. And she certainly would never strip Twilight of her wings, crown, or rank. It wasn't even clear if she or anypony could reverse the ascension to alicorn; especially without the Elements of Harmony on hand. Twilight Sparkle was Celestia's former student, and equal as far as the admittedly vague definitions of royalty were concerned (in practical matters Celestia was of course the decision maker, no question, and thus held more responsibility). There was no way Celestia would think anything less of Twilight, even if she failed in this endeavor.
Right?
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Painwheel slept in her recliner, a plain white sheet draped gently over her form the night before by a kind baby dragon. A shaft of morning sunlight crawled slowly across her body from the basement window. She felt no pain.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Painwheel stirred, jostled awake by an encroaching, rhythmic noise. What...what is that?
Painwheel gingerly opened her eyes, squinting at the bright early light. She looked towards the sound. “Hmm?”
Twilight Sparkle stood at the foot of the basement stairs. Her posture slouched, her hair disheveled. The feathers on her wings were similarly out of sorts, unpreened. Her fur stuck matted in odd places. Twilight's eyes were half open, heavy bags underneath. She glared at the human, piercing eyes locked.
She frowned deeply. Twilight spoke with a hoarse voice, “Now...I'm going to learn...everything...”
Painwheel cocked an eyebrow sleepily. “What?” She tried to sit up, only to encounter the binding force of the magic chains. The effort aroused the parasites, sending jolts of pain through her body. “Ugh!” she grunted, slipping back into place.
“Don't...bother getting up,” said Twilight, plodding towards the recliner. She yawned, using her magic to adjust the mechanism on the chair, shifting Painwheel into a sitting position and turning her to face the pony. “It's time I changed tactics.”
“Huh? What are you...?” said Painwheel, finally waking up fully. Rarely these days did Painwheel get a chance to lounge, as the first concerted movement on her part always dispelled sleepiness with a healthy dose of agony. “Look...I'll talk, okay?”
Twilight Sparkle paused. Her mouth hung open a moment, then slammed shut. She groaned. “Oh no, we're well past the point of talking.” She glanced across the room at a clock. “Princess Celestia is going to be here any minute now. I don't have time to learn everything you've been keeping from me by just talking.” Grimacing, she lifted her horn up. It began to glow.
Painwheel's eyes shot wide open. “W-what are you doing?”
“Taking...a more...direct...approach,” Twilight said, inching slowly towards the human.
“Oh...” Painwheel said. She shook her head. “No, no, no!”
“I'll get to the heart of the matter...”
“No! No, you can't do this!” Painwheel began shaking all across her body, trying to shrink away. Her efforts to put distance between her and the pony were futile.
“...one way...”
“Not that! Anything but that!”
“...or another.” Twilight leaned in, bringing her horn closer towards Painwheel's head.
“S-s-stay away!” the human cried, contracting her muscles. With sickening squelches, dozens of spikes stabbed out of her body towards the alicorn. Agony.
Agony all for naught. The spikes bounced or bent off the alicorn, a subtle personal aura lighting up close to her skin. “No. I'm not tolerating any defenses. We're peeling you back and getting a look inside, whether you like it or not!”
As her spikes retracted, sending hurtful sensations through her trembling flesh, Painwheel gasped. “No! Don't come in!” Those red eyes watered.
Twilight leaned right up to the human's face.
“Stop! Not again! No!” Frantic, terrified tears rolled down her cheek. “NO!” All she could see was the magical light coming off the horn. She clamped her eyes shut in desperation. “PLEASE!”
Images, sounds, thoughts, emotions, and SWEET CELESTIA THE PAIN assaulted Twilight Sparkle. It was like jumping into a freezing pool of water. She struggled, tumbling perceptually through a storm of experiences.
If Twilight couldn't right herself, she would drown. Drown in the confused sea of Painwheel's mind. She had to focus. Shoot in one direction and hope for clarity. Hope for comprehensibility.
Hope for something – anything – without the grating background din of discomfort.
A neighborhood, sunny day. Humans of many shapes and sizes, garbed in fanciful, exotic dress. Laughing children run past. She walks on asphalt, natural as if born on them. Looks right. Another human walks at her side. Blond, pretty. Carrying books. Filia. Best friend. Wouldn't betray her. Did betray her. How? Can't remember.
Remember. She looks left, sees old man hunched over. She breaths heavily. Acute throbbing pain throughout body. She reaches hand out, nails black, skin outlined by dark veins. Old man looks over, recoils in fear.
She looks around, no longer in suburbs. Crowded city. No one laughs. Pedestrians reacting to her presence, gasping and screaming. Schoolgirls coming towards stagger back, turning and running away. Crowd disperses. Street empty. Pain persists.
Pain gone. City streets gone. Field of flowers. Scent is sweet. Wind blows, carrying flower petals. She reaches down to pick one. Hand fresh and healthy. It holds a flower. Brings close to nose to smell it. Exquisite.
Dinner smells divine. She sits at a table, voices carrying from other sides. View hazy, distracted. Hands hold silverware, expertly held. Must always be dignified; proper etiquette is paramount. Knife and fork come down upon plate. Boiled vegetables, fresh brown rice...and a steak. Medium rare. Cutting through reveals nice, pink center.
Twilight knows she should feel repulsed. Should feel ill. Meat. And not just meat, but beef. Cow meat. Cow's are for eating, they're feeling, intelligent creatures! Twilight couldn't eat beef! It was against every moral fiber in her and even her very nature to do so.
Yet it smells so good. She pops it into her mouth, chewing in and savoring the juices. It tastes even better than it smells. It's so wrong, yet it feels so right. Twilight's horror drowned by pure, carnivorous meat-lust. The steak gratifies her in indescribable ways, it tastes so good in her mouth.
Meat turns to hay. Familiar to Twilight, but she spits it out violently. Unnatural. Why put hay in a burger? The pain is back, intensified heavily. She screams, coughing away the foul materials. Rage. She slams her fist down on the table, collapsing it. Screams resound all around her. Head hurts; dehydrated.
She smacks her lips. Need water. She shivers in a bed, surrounded by the effects of a child. Toys, photographs, bookshelves. A poster of a cartoon adventurer. Annie, Girl of the Stars. She wheezes, covering her mouth. Head is foggy. Throat sore. Need water. She calls out, “Mom!” Door opens. Woman steps inside, carrying tray with water. Mother. Caregiver. Livegiver. Love.
Nurse steps up to the operating table, carrying tray of surgical tools. Valentine. Nurse ninja. Bitch. Hatred. Fear. Nurse tightens rubber gloves. “We're ready to begin the operation.” Twilight is strapped down, can't move. Struggles in bonds.
She's in the recliner in Ponyville. Memories fresh. Nurse turned into a crazed Twilight Sparkle. Steps forward, determined look on her eyes.
Changes into Nurse, back on the table. Shadowing figure looms nearby. Metal mask. Glass dome on head displays gray matter. Brain Drain. Leader of Lab Zero. Monster. Images of his face flash by. A thousand instances of his voice flare up at once. Mind controller. Bastard. Fear. Hate.
“Get...out...”
Nurse leans in close, pressing gas mask to her lips. Her head swims.
She collapses to the floor. She's in a church, carpeted floor. Rises to feet, looking back. Valentine readies syringes. “This won't hurt a bit.”
Hate. Fear. Pain. Bitch has to go down. Parasite assisted punch slams into nurse, sending staggering. Her bra snaps. She drops to her knees. “Thatta...girl...” Falls over, bloody wounds across her body. Twilight screams to the sky, Buar Drive whipping up dust.
She keeps screaming, balloons disperse. She spots Pinkie Pie. Pink. Earth Pony. Annoying. The pony fires cannon.
Peacock fires cannon, speaking like a pirate. Infuriating. Annoying. Lab Eight rival. Must destroy for Master Brain Drain. Twilight blocks cannonball with the Buar. Peacock points, a tiny airplane flying out and diving upon Twilight. It explodes in her face.
She flies back. Rooftop. Dozens of soldiers – the Black Egrets – stand ready to assist their monarch. Princess Parasoul struts forward, spinning her living umbrella around. Globs of napalm fly in every direction. Parasoul. Ruler. Leader of the Black Egrets. Fights the Skullgirl. Shouldn't be in Twilight's way. The Princess had to fall. Had to die. Kill the Princess.
What was she thinking? Hurt the Princess? Twilight could never do that. Never in a million year...but she was so annoying!
She uses Buar Drive to lift up off the ground. Princess stands at ready, fencing stance. “You poor girl...I never authorized this,” she said. Look of grim focus matched by profound pity. How dare she pity Twilight? Twilight lunges forward, jumping around bursting globs.
She didn't notice the severed head jumping from behind, biting her. “Nom nom nom nom nom!” Twilight flinched, trying to shake the head off. Acute pain of scratches across her skin. They're in a port, surrounded by sunken buildings housing amphibious people. Fish people look on. The head's body rushes in and shoulder checks Twilight. She tumbles to the ground.
She's staring at the ground, a subtle film of tears coming to her eyes. Sadness bordering on despair. How could they not see her? She remembers her parents.
They stand in front of her, holding each other. Twilight wears her new school uniform. It smells fresh, of starch. They're smiling. Her beautiful mother. Her strong, rugged father. He wraps an arm around his wife.
Their smiles are replaced with grimaces of fear. They recoil. Dozens of others recoil before Twilight's eyes. She hurts all over. Especially emotionally. “MONSTER! GET OUT OF HERE MONSTER!”
“Brain Drain you monster!” the scientist shouts. He backs away, dripping bright red blood from his arms and his sides and from his gouged eye-socket. Twilight's Buar Drive hangs in the corner of her eye, dripping blood. Her anger is indescribable. Everything is blurry. “Do you hear me, Brain Drain?” he continued, keeping her in his sights. Out of the corner of her eye she could see small, disfigured children being led away by their masked caregiver. The scientist shouted again. “Do you hear me? I'll be the first to admit it, we weren't good people! We abused our state-appointed position to inflict horrors, all in the name of science and stopping the Skullgirls! We were awful, terrible people! All of us! But you...you've become a goddamn monster!”
“Humans are the real monsters,” said the nun. She had wide hips. They were back in the church. The nun opened her eyes; they glowed red. She vomited a great mass of flesh from her body, her skin peeling back until she – it – undulated on the floor, inside out. The quivering mass of meat and organs writhed. On its “head” was a crown of bone, like a broken curved half-circle connected loosely by rods coming from its “brow”. At its side, Valentine jumped from behind a curtain, adjusting her bosom.
Twilight was filled with disgust – and also incredible fury – but couldn't help notice the nurse's breasts, those mounds of fat peculiar to the human species. It was curious...and infuriating. Envy. Why couldn't she have breasts like that?
Why couldn't she remove her mask? Frustration. Back in Lab Zero, in a containment cell. She pawed at the leather, feeling the straps. She realized with horror the mask was not meant to be removed. She growled, sticking fingers underneath the leather to probe for clues.
She couldn't breath. Wind whipped around her, an artificial tornado ripping the oxygen from her lungs. Terror. Twilight dug her stinging fingers under the mask, gripping it. Get it off. Get it off! GET IT OFF!
“Get out!”
Get it away! A spinning saw inched towards her chest. Valentine held it. Brain Drain stood off to the side, inscrutable as ever. Twilight turned her head away, swaying drunkenly on subsiding anesthesia. The saw bit into her flesh, bringing a flash of pain. It hurt.
It hurt so much more waking up in the lab, the Gae Bolga freshly applied. She screamed bloody murder, rolling on the floor. Twilight clutched her arms to her body, wincing at every movement, every pang, every squirm inside. She rolled, looking up into a floodlight. She was blinded. Her skin felt too tight. Whatever was in her body – images of her transparent form revealing the Gae Bolga flashed before her – needed to get out. Absolutely had to. They needed. To get. Out.
“Get. Out!”
Her skin ruptured from within, dozens of spikes extruding agonizingly. A rainbow colored pony didn't run away quick enough, and she got cut.
Twilight screamed. She couldn't take it. She felt like she was going to lose her mind. She rolled, feeling herself roll over the metal of the Buar, inducing more discomfort. She writhed on the floor of Lab Zero, moaning. Pain. Pain. Rage. She started to lose herself. All she could feel was the pain and the rage.
A voice pulled at the back of her head. “Now, it's time. There's work to be done. It's time to destroy the weak-hearted fools at Lab Eight. And when that's done...the Skullgirl.”
A hundred images flashed before Twilight. Picture books. History books. Bones strewn over the floor of a crypt. Posters on the school walls – dozens of them – warning against making a wish on the Skull Heart. “The Skull Heart is not your friend.” “If a Skullgirl attacks, don't be a hero.” “No wish is worth this.” A teacher lecturing about it. Memorial television broadcasts for those who lost their lives in the attacks. Annie, Girl of the Stars; just Annie, and all the episodes of her cartoon. Warning. Preaching. Begging little children to understand. To stay away.
The Skull Heart brings nothing but doom. Brings nothing, but the Skullgirl.
And Twilight saw her. Sitting on a mountain of bones, she wore the outfit of a maid. Her skin was pale, her middle back blown out and spitting a cold, blue flame. Twilight looked into her eyes, feeling nothing but rage...okay, and maybe a little fear. Looked into those eyes, red and shaped like two halves of a human skull.
The Skullgirl. “You dare challenge me?”
“You're a wheel pain.”
“Let's see if you've learned any of what I taught you.”
“Get out!”
“Repent, for your death is nigh.”
“Talk about cut down.”
“I love a good freakshow.”
“Get out!”
“Monster!”
“GET OUT!”
“Carol!?” said Filia. She shifted back and forth between blond and black haired. She clutched her face. Did she remember?
“GET OUT!!”
A walking bomb. Rotten gardenias. Bleeding scientists. Loving parents. Total despair. Sunset on the beach. Exploding napalm. Filia. Bacon and sausage. Being thrown by a circus performer. Ballet lessons. Pain. Sunflowers. Nothing has changed. A bad pun. A daffodil sandwich. Cartoons. Black blood. Filia. Gunfire. A gasmask. Scrapping metal. Dislocated knee. Roses. New book smell. Skull eyes. A firing squad. Pain.
Filia.
Falling out of the world.
“GET OUT OF MY HEAD!!!”
Twilight Sparkle kicked her head back, stumbling away. She rolled on the floor, touching her head. A trail of smoke led away from her horn. She gasped, panting for breath.
In her chair, Painwheel bellowed uncontrollably for a straight minute. Eyes wide. Tears trailed down her face.
The screaming caught them on the way down. It set her heart beating with a jolt. “Something is wrong! Set down immediately!”
The soldiers complied, bringing the cart to the ground right in front of the tree library.
She jumped from the chariot before it even stopped moving, running to the door. Entrances could be repaired; she blasted it open with a burst of force magic. As she entered the library, she noted the screaming had stopped.
Could be okay. Could be terrible.
She forced the basement door open with her magic, ducking through the low-hanging doorframe. She jumped down, ready for anything.
She really wasn't ready for what she saw. Her (former) student lay on the floor, shaking, panting, clutching her head. The human – for indeed it was certainly a human, her eyes couldn't lie – sat bound in a chair. The human sobbed, weeping openly, cascading tears across its scarred, pitiable face.
At least it was contained. Poor consolation. The noise it made broke the diarch's heart.
Twilight Sparkle stirred on the floor, still clutching her head. Princess Celestia was at her side immediately. “Twilight! What has happened? Is everything all right?”
The (former) student looked up at the voice, fear mixing with the shock on her face. “Princess...ow!” She clutched her head more, horn fizzling. “Princess...Celestia...”
“Twilight!” Celestia insisted, moving in close. “What. Happened. Here?” She briefly glanced to the human, still inconsolable, in its own world. Celestia looked back. “Tell me what happened! What did you do?”
The purple alicorn shivered in pain. Then, a single tear fell down her check. “I...I just...I just wanted to know...”
Celestia's heart sank. “Oh, Twilight,” she said, disappointed. She wrapped a wing around the mare and pulled her close, letting her rest her mentally taxed head.
Celestia merely stared at the human. And let it – her – sob away. The first new human in seven hundred years, and they were already breaking her.
Pinkamena Diane Pie hopped down the road, making way from Sugarcube Corner to Golden Oaks Library. Atop her poofy pink mane was a strawberry flavored cake with white and pink icing. Somehow the confection failed to fall despite her erratic, bouncing motion.
Pinkie had a huge smile on her face, as always. “Hmm...” she hummed, scrunching her face in thought. “I hope this is enough for Spike and Painy too. I wonder if I should have brought a bigger one?” She stopped, taking down the pastry to examine it. Quite a sizable cake it was, though not nearly enough to satisfy Pinkie herself. Her capacity for sweets was titanic. As was her desire to see her friends – and those she wanted to be friends with – happy.
Pinkie hadn't had the chance to visit the library when Painwheel – or as Pinkie called her, “Painy” - woke up. Working at the bakery and throwing that “Knocked 'Em Dead (But Not Literally) At The Orchestra” Party for Octavia kept Ponyville's number one party pony too busy to drop by. She had to drill her friends for information on the mysterious “human” when they got to said party, which they were all too happy to provide.
Or were they just intimidated by how seriously she took preparing for parties? No, it was probably the former. Definitely.
Pinkie stacked the cake back on her head. “I guess this will have to do until I can get back and bake them an even bigger cake! And then Painy will just scream for joy!” She clapped her hooves happily.
“GET OUT OF MY HEAD!!! AAAAAAAHHHH!!!”
Pinkie stopped in her tracks, twitching her ears to get a bead on the noise. It was coming from the direction of the library. And it sounded just like Painwheel.
“Wow,” said Pinkie Pie, “...I didn't think she'd be screaming this soon.” Her smile twisted into a concerned frown. “Oh, but I know that wasn't a scream for joy. I know all the screams of joy there are to be heard, because I've heard all of them! I'd better hurry over!” She began hopping again, this time more earnestly.
This was suddenly very serious.
This was a grave – nay serious – matter.
Celestia pushed the ailing Twilight Sparkle away gently. “Twilight,” Celestia said, looking down on her former student, “Did you use a mind probe on the human?”
Twilight Sparkle held a shaky hoof to her brow. She hissed in pain. “...ugh...yes, Princess Celestia...”
“And did you do it without her permission?”
“I...Princess, I was...she wasn't answering any of my...guh...questions...”
Celestia shook her head disapprovingly. “Twilight, you cannot simply force your way into another sapiant's mind. To do so is to violate them in a profound, traumatic manner.” What Celestia failed to mention, and what she didn't think she needed to, was that multiple attempts over the past thousand years were made to ban the mind probe spell entirely. Attempts that only fell apart because of certain bits of red tape, as well as from interference from certain nobles over the years.
She was honestly unsure why she never bit the bullet and ordered it banned by royal decree.
“I know, I know,” Twilight said, wincing. She shut her eyes, messaging them with her hooves. “It's just...”
“It's just that you wanted to have something to report when I arrived, I know,” Celestia said, her turn to rub her brow. “I thought we were past this, Twilight. You're free to report anything to me when you have something to report. I don't expect a schedule or deadline for it. Especially now that you are a princess yourself.” Celestia looked over to the human; she was still sobbing. Celestia pointed a hoof towards the human. “What could you possibly hope to learn that would justify this creature's trauma?”
Twilight snapped. “I was afraid, okay!?”
“Afraid?”
“Afraid!” Twilight waved her own hoof at the human. “She wasn't telling me anything, but she's a living weapon of mass destruction! Even if we assumed she was a dog that got off her leash, who created her? And what if they were planning to invade Equestria with an army of her? I had no idea because she wasn't saying anything! I had to find out now, in case she was covering up something! I couldn't afford to wait!”
Ah. There was the reason she never banned mind probes.
Celestia paused. Hard as it was to admit, the use of mind probes against an unwilling party had useful application that could – could being the operative word – justify itself: clear and present danger. Unfortunately, on more than one occasion, Celestia herself was forced to probe unwilling minds, looking for answers of a pressing and sensitive nature. A task she was loath to do, and she thanked Faust she wasn't required to often. Mind Probes – specifically forced ones – were too important to ban outright, and she wouldn't put a law down to ban it, only to violate that law herself. It would invalidate the trust between ruler, state, and populace.
Hence why she tended to instead keep records of the mind probe spell sealed, like in the restricted section of the Canterlot library. A section Twilight, being her former pupil and current Princess in her own right, had free and unrestricted access to.
Celestia facehoofed. “Alright, I'll concede that pressing need warrants a mind probe,” she said. “But I hardly think the remote possibility of invasion counts.” She watched Twilight shrink. “We only have speculation to go on, and you knew I was about to arrive. We could have sat down together, combined our efforts in getting her to talk.” She glanced again at the human. “This poor thing, from everything you've already told me, didn't deserve that kind of treatment.
“Moreover, I can see your subject suffered terribly, more so than necessary.” Celestia studied the human. Already in poor shape, she was utterly distraught. “Mind probes aren't easy, Twilight. They are complex spells, and their use on even a willing subject requires the utmost care. Tearing into a mind willy nilly can wreak havoc on it.”
“...I know...” Twilight said. She shuffled on her feet. “...but I didn't know she was so sensitive...”
“Sensitive?” Celestia asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah,” Twilight said, becoming more earnest. “I understand what I did was wrong, and I accept that. But she already had a history of being mentally abused and controlled. This place, Lab Zero...”
“Twilight Stop.”
“...what? I was just trying to...”
Celestia stamped her foot. “Twilight, do not tell me anything you've learned from the probe.” She shook her head, shutting her eyes. “I...cannot in good conscience accept information so ill-gotten.”
“B-but...but Princess!” Twilight exclaimed, jumping closer. Her statement shocked the human nearby to attention, fearfully and tearfully looking on at the two members of royalty squabbling. “I only did this to report it to you! I know everything now, including how to help her!”
“And help her you shall, on your own,” Celestia said, stopping her erstwhile protege in her tracks. After all this time, Celestia supposed Twilight was still her student. Still bright eyed, in need of lessons. She was, after all, still young. It was Celestia's job to see Twilight learn what she didn't already know. For her own good. “I know that, given all you've learned, you could assist the girl in ways nopony else can. But it's the principle of the thing. You've wounded this girl deeply all the same. I cannot be party to that by enjoying such tainted fruit.
“That being said, I also cannot discount your reasoning as to why you thought it important to do,” she continued. Her student looked puzzled. “So I will inquire only one thing. Twilight Sparkle, knowing everything you now know, is Equestria in imminent danger of invasion? Yes or no?”
Twilight looked up to her mentor a moment, then cast her face down in defeat. “No. I can honestly say it's not.”
The Sun Diarch nodded in acknowledgment. “Then I have no further questions. For now, I request that you go to bed. You yourself have endured significant mental strain, another reason why the mind probe is so dangerous. To use the spell without proper training can lead to the user being swept away by the sea of memories of their subject.” Celestia walked over, extending a great wing to pat Twilight on the behind, trying to scoot her off to the stairs. “Now rest, faithful Twilight. I will think up a suitable punishment later.”
“Yes Princess,” Twilight said, starting her walk of shame. Her head hurt. Then she stopped. “But if I can't report to you, how will you learn everything you need to? Will you interview her yourself?”
“I'd like to,” Celestia said, looking back towards the human. The poor thing had given up paying attention, and wept in silence. “But I only really have the morning, before I must return to Canterlot. I'm so very busy.” She shook her head. Why did she need to attend and moderate an accountant's convention? Why did they have to schedule it for such an inconvenient time? And months in advance? “Plus, the poor dear is most certainly too traumatized to weather such an interrogation.”
“What'll you do then?”
“What'll she do about what?”
A bouncy pink pony landed on the basement floor, cake landing softly on her fluffy pink mane.
“Hey Twilight! Hey Princess Celestia!” Pinkie Pie said, looking from one princess to another. Then she spotted the human. “Hey, what's wrong with Painy? She looks so sad!”
Celestia cringed as “Painy” reacted with alarm with the Pinkie's arrival, shaking like a leaf and bursting into a new fit of sobbing. The Princess sighed, “Pinkie Pie, this really isn't the time to be...” Then she stopped, and an idea formed in her mind. “Actually, Pinkie Pie, would you mind terribly doing something for me?”
“Sure thing! I can do lots of somethings!” Pinkie Pie beamed, seeming to forget her prior concern for the human.
“Would you be so kind as to run out and fetch the other bearers? I require the presence of all of you.”
“Okie Dokie Loki!” Pinkie exclaimed, hopping up and down in place. “I'll just leave this cake in the kitchen, and get right on that. Be back in a minute!” She dashed up the stairs and out the door.
“As for you, Twilight,” said Celestia, pointing a hoof up the stairs after her, “Bed. Now.”
“Yes Princess,” Twilight said again, climbing the stairs. She hobbled unsteadily, overwhelmed by the morning's events and the previous exhaustion. In spite of that, she lingered just a bit at the top of the stairs, eager to listen to what Celestia had to say to her charge.
Celestia stepped up to the human, an act which caused her to pick up the hysterics.
“No! Not again! S-stay away!” the human said, looking up at the alicorn fearfully. “Not again...”
Celestia paused. This would need a delicate hoof. “I'm sorry...may I approach?”
The human shook her head wildly, now suffering a case of the hiccups. “...hic...not again...not...hic...again...stay out of...hic...my head...no more...hic...” Yet another fresh stream of tears fell down her cheeks. “...why won't everyone...hic...just stay out of...hic...my head...?”
Celestia inched closer, right up to the seated human. “It's alright,” she said, moving her head down. When the human flinched away, raising protests, Celestia stopped. She looked up at her horn. “No, no, don't be afraid. No one else is going to invade your mind.”
The human sniffed. “...hic...r-really...?”
“I swear on my life,” Celestia said, giving her best, warmest smile. “Your mind is your own; sacred ground that neither I nor any of my subjects will defile.” She bent down again, this time keeping her prodigious horn away. She instead touched the human's head with her neck, hugging her close. “No one is going to hurt you. Not here. I promise.”
“...huff...hic...okay...” The human leaned into the hug, resting her head upon the alicorn's white neck. It was fuzzy...and warm. She allowed the tears to flow again, sobbing loudly.
“Shoosh...” Celestia cooed, bringing a hoof up to pat the back of the girl's head. “Shoosh...it's going to be alright...it's going to be alright...” She allowed the poor thing to cry for several minutes. Celestia supposed, when she returned to the castle later, she would need a quick rinsing off. But for now, she saw the “monster” in need of comfort. Somewhere nearby, Celestia heard her ever-curious student finally move on. Good, they needed to be alone.
In time, the sobbing quieted to periodic sniffing. Celestia spoke softly, “There, are you feeling better?”
“...sniff...uh huh...” nodded the girl.
“Would you mind telling me your name?”
“...hic...Painwheel...” the human said softly.
Odd name. But Celestia never knew a human to be anything but odd. Not that she had experience with a large enough sample size to be sure. “Okay Painwheel, my name is Celestia.” She delivered a light pat on the back of the human's head. She was surprised to brush against a skull-shaped adornment. Curious choice...assuming it was a choice.
“Hey Princess!” came the voice of Pinkie Pie from upstairs, “I brought them!”
Guess there wasn't time to give Painwheel the attention she needed. In fact, it was just enough time to address the elephant in the room.
Celestia sighed, disengaging the hug. She looked the human in the eyes. “Now Painwheel, dear, I need to ask you something very important...
“...Are you a Skullgirl?”
Painwheel blinked. “...what?”
“Are you a Skullgirl?”
“...no...no, I'm not...” Painwheel shook her head. She looked confused. But Celestia could see into the girl's eyes easily. Bright red, with black scalea. They were unnatural by any measurement. But they weren't themselves in the shape of a skull.
In truth, Celestia had sensed it the moment she entered the room. What almost gave her a heart attack – irony of ironies – was that she hadn't sensed it when she entered Ponyville airspace. The state of the basement's occupants further exacerbated her concern, nearly driving her to panic. The possibility of Skullgirl masking her presence disturbed Celestia greatly.
Thankfully, the situation had proven less dire than that. A Skullgirl – and the Skull Heart it contained – were still too powerful to hide. Celestia's question to Painwheel merely assuaged any remaining doubt. She sighed in relief, “Good. I'm glad. But since you didn't ask about it, I can only assume you know what a Skullgirl is. Is that safe to say?”
Painwheel looked taken aback, but she nodded.
“Princess Celestia!” Applejack called from the top of the stairs. Her compatriots followed her down the stairs.
Celestia sighed again. “I guess that will have to suffice for now my dear.” She rose to her feet, having sat on her haunches during the long cry session. She turned to face her little ponies. “Hello everypony. Thank you for answering my summons.”
“We came as fast as we could, soon as Pinkie Pie came around,” Applejack explained, slightly out of breath. She looked around. “Hey, where's Twilight?”
“Whoa!” said Rainbow Dash, cutting in. “Did something happen to her?” She caught sight of Painwheel, and she narrowed her eyes. “Did she do anything to her?”
“No, nothing like that,” Celestia said, putting on a reassuring smile. Little did most ponies know, but ruling for millennia allowed Celestia to hone the art of smiles. She possessed a separate, subtle shade of grin for every occasion, to convey whatever affect she desired on behalf of her subjects. She had warm smiles, motherly smiles, reassuring smiles. She even had the kind of smiles reserved for the uppity, spoiled nobles who clamored for her attention every day in court. It tried to convey the meaning of “I'm trying to be polite, even though I think your requests are petty and tedious”.
Of course she would never say as much. No matter how much she wanted to. It's not like any of the nobles could read that smile for what it was anyway. They were remarkably dense; or they didn't care for anything at the time save for their pet projects. She loved all her subjects, but sometimes they tried her patience so.
She continued, “Twilight unfortunately made the mistake of trying to probe poor Painwheel's mind for information, instead of conferring with me first.”
“Probe?” Fluttershy asked.
“Indeed,” Celestia said. “It was a taxing endeavor, which left her mentally exhausted and Painwheel here traumatized. So I sent Twilight to bed, to recover.” She turned to show off Painwheel, still visibly drained from her ordeal.
“Oh no!” Fluttershy said, smacking her cheeks with both forehooves.
“Simply dreadful!” Rarity exclaimed.
Rainbow Dash was less impressed. “I don't know. Don't you think Painwheel deserved...?”
“Absolutely not!” Celestia said, silencing the pegasus on the spot. “No creature should have their mind invaded against their wishes, especially since Painwheel seems to have a particular history of being mentally abused.” She extended a wing, patting Painwheel on the head lightly. The human sniffed, seeming just a bit more at ease. “I still have yet to think up an appropriate punishment for Twilight.”
“You ain't gonna banish Twi to the moon, are you Princess?” Applejack asked, beads of sweat rolling down her neck. Her ears were held back.
“No, nothing like that,” Celestia said, shaking her head. She put on a minor smile. A mercy smile. “It will take some time to think of what to do with her. But as it stands, I feel she's suffering enough as it is from her actions. There's no rush.
“What is more pressing is what to do with the human now that we have her.” Celestia walked behind the chair, standing behind the girl. “I cannot in good conscience use the information Twilight learned while inside Painwheel's mind. And my own time to converse with her is limited. As such, I would like you five to spend time with her every day, one on one. To learn through conversation what Twilight tried to with magic.”
Painwheel looked up at her savior. She sat stunned.
The five ponies assembled were also stunned. Rainbow Dash was the first to respond, “So when you say 'spend time' and 'conversation', you mean...?”
“I mean I'd like one of you to come in every day, whenever you have time, and talk to her,” Celestia explained. She used a hoof to stroke Painwheel's hair gently. “She's in a difficult place, and needs friends. She also needs to be rehabilitated and adjusted to Equestria. We need information about her in order to help her, and to gauge whether she can be allowed to live here.” She gave an apologetic smile to Painwheel when the latter looked up plaintively. “Sorry,” she whispered. “Can you all do this?”
Applejack fidgeted uneasily. “Ah don't know, Princess. Can we really trust her, after what she did?”
“That, Applejack, is what you are trying to figure out,” said the princess.
Fluttershy stepped forward, surprisingly bold. “I'll do it,” she said, sporting a serious expression. “Painwheel needs our help. If there's anything I can do, I'll do it.” She looked to her friends for approval, but wilted when she found them less forthcoming. Her posture sagged. “Um...that is...if it's okay with everypony else...”
Rainbow Dash sighed. “Fine. Not like I have anything better to do until my wound heals. Thanks for that, Hurt Cycle.”
For the first time, Painwheel looked genuinely remorseful. She bit her lip, frowning.
Applejack pondered it for a time, then said, “Well, guess if it needs doin', Ah reckon' it needs doin' right. I'm in.”
“Me too!” Pinkie Pie exclaimed, hopping in place. “Maybe I never got to talk to Painy before, so I need all the research I can get to throw her the best “Welcome To Ponyville” Party ever!” She giggled. “Plus, it'll give me a chance to give her more, better cake.”
Rarity shuffled her feet uncomfortably. “Do I have to?”
“Rarity,” said Fluttershy, turning her eyes – and perhaps the lowest level of her stare – onto the fashionista. To her credit, Fluttershy wasn't entirely in control of The Stare, or when she used it. Usually it was when she found herself worked up. This fact contributed to her kind, submissive personality. If she just never acted assertive, she wouldn't accidentally hijack anypony's free will by mistake.
The white unicorn frowned. She didn't like it when Fluttershy started making demands. It reminded her too much of “New Fluttershy”, an uncomfortable and unpleasant time that Rarity didn't want to relive. “Oh, alright, I'll do it.” She took a pace forward, staring at Painwheel. She studied the human, stroking her chin thoughtfully. “Besides, now that I look at it, I think I just might be needed desperately.” She waved a hoof human-ward. “I mean, just look at her! That ghastly appearance needs all the help she can get.”
Painwheel's mouth fell open. She felt offended.
Celestia giggled. “Very good. I'll see to it Twilight is informed of the development when she wakes up.” She bent over to look Painwheel in the eyes. “As for you, young lady, I know it's rough. But I need you to be on your best behavior. When they want to know things, be more forthcoming. Can you do that?”
The girl whined. She fidgeted uncomfortably. Then, reluctantly, she nodded. “Okay...I'll try...”
“Hello Mr. Rose...oh, just out on a walk. How are things with your draft choice?”
“...interesting. Sounds like she's acclimating as well as can expected...stagnating? Surely you jest...very well, and I won't call you Shirley either, Mr. Rose.
“Listen, it's only been a few days, hasn't it? ...no, as I explained, it was necessary to put her near civilization, even if capture became a possibility. We can hardly have her die of malnutrition or wildlife attack. The whole effort would be wasted, and she wouldn't be properly prepared. It's a risk that had to be taken, you know this...if you think she's not advancing fast enough, you can always 'push' things, so long as the damage is manageable...oh no, that rule only applies when everything begins. Technically it would fall under preliminary vetting...
“...that would be acceptable, I think. You really have access to such things? Oh what am I talking about, of course you do. You all do. Very well. I'll be walking back, then...oh, not too far. At least, it's not far for me...very good, Mr. Rose. Have a lovely cycle.”
“How have you been holding up, dear?”
Twilight Sparkle led her friend Rarity through the library towards the basement. She rubbed her head. “Still have a mild headache,” she said, “Not to mention the nightmares I had last night.” She shuddered. “I'm suddenly really, really sorry I went into Painwheel's head.”
“So it was that bad, I suppose?” Rarity said, scowling. “By the way, dearie, what possessed you to do that in the first place? I mean, I heard you were afraid humans were coming to invade, but they could have waited another few minutes for Celestia to get there. It's so unlike you, to the point where such rash actions...well they just come off like excuses. I mean, no offense.” Rarity tried to offer an apologetic smile.
The alicorn sighed. “Probably,” she said, continuing to rub her head. “Looking back, I don't know what I was thinking either. But then again, I was running on zero sleep two days in a row. There was this one time, I studied for three days straight and suddenly got the urge to jump into the Canterlot Castle fountain.” She giggled nervously, rubbing her hooves together. “I'd convinced myself I was the Lizard Queen. It seemed so reasonable at the time. Celestia had to have the guards forcefully towel me off and tie me to my bed, under orders that 'her majesty the Lizard Queen must go to sleep immediately'. Or at least I'm pretty sure that's what she said. Again, I was really out of it.”
Rarity tried to stifle a laugh, slapping her hooves in front of her mouth. “So...hgh...this isn't...ffff...new for you, then?”
“Just left it go, Rarity,” Twilight said, shutting her eyes as Rarity began laughing wildly. “But I guess sleep deprivation doesn't excuse what I did...you done?”
“Ah! Yes...yes, I don't know what came over me,” Rarity said, shaking off the giggle fit and attempting to restore an elegant, refined air. They finally came to the door of the basement. Rarity coughed nervously. “Now Twilight dear, tell me again why you cannot accompany me in this meeting? Why do I...need to be alone with her?” She shuddered involuntarily. “I'm...more than a little...”
“Scared?”
“Rationally self-concerned.”
“Well, there are multiple reasons for that,” Twilight said. “Well first, because Spike is gone doing...whatever it is he's been doing. He left yesterday morning at the crack of dawn, with a bag of bits and rucksack, saying he's off to run an errand. He said he'd be back today, but I just don't know.” She frowned. “That's going to make explaining things to him difficult.
“Secondly, because Celestia thinks – and I agree – that Painwheel would be better served by interacting with you all one-on-one. If multiple ponies are there, that just puts her in a position of vulnerability, which might induce her to act defensively. Putting her on more even ground should help draw her out.”
Twilight opened the door, bringing them into the basement. They stepped onto the ground-level landing that overlooked the basement lab proper. Down below, the familiar human girl sat, bound to her chair. She looked tired. And bored.
“And the third reason...well...” Twilight said, looking down on the human.
Painwheel looked up, noticing their presence. She spotted Twilight Sparkle, and frowned. Her eyebrows slacked, and she turned her head as far away from the alicorn forcefully.
“...is because she...doesn't want anything to do with me anymore,” Twilight said, sadly. She sighed. “Well, I'll leave you to it.” She turned away, making for the door. “Call me if you need anything.”
Rarity looked back and forth between Twilight and Painwheel, shaking nervously. “...okay...” When she was alone, she shook her head. It was no time to be fearful. Painwheel wasn't going anywhere. Rarity would be fine. Right?
She put on a brave face. A regal face. “Very well,” she said under her breath, “to it then.”
The fashionista descended the stairs, waltzing up to Painwheel. “Good morning, Painwheel. Feeling better today?”
Painwheel grumbled in response. Rarity supposed it was a marked upswing in spirits if the girl was merely angry instead of weepy. “Very well,” said Rarity, putting on a smile. “Now that we have the pleasantries out of the way...let's see what I can do with you.”
“Do...with me?” Painwheel asked, puzzled.
“But of course!” Rarity said, taking a good, hard look at the prisoner. “This might offend you, dear, but you look absolutely dreadful. Like I said yesterday, I'm going to do my best to get you looking like a proper lady!”
The human's response was...unexpected. Rarity assumed she would become incensed – ponies tended to act indignant when told the truth about their visual shortcomings. She assumed humans would be no different, and this one did have a predilection towards anger. And indeed, she did seem annoyed...until the subject of being a lady came up. With that, Painwheel went from irked to...downcast. Like her heart was just shot through.
What was that about? “Painwheel...are you alright?”
Painwheel shot to attention. “Uh...I'm...I'm fine,” she said, though a subtle frown betrayed otherwise. “Um...what are you going to do?”
Rarity considered the question, stroking her chin. “Hmm...” she said, moving from side to side to catch the girl at multiple angles. Her nose sniffed the air absentmindedly, and she scrunched her face in disgust. “Ugh! Definitely the first thing is a bath.” As the human self-consciously sniffed herself as best she could, another thought came to Rarity. “Painwheel...have you ever had a bath?”
“Wha...of course I have! What k-kind of question is that!?” Painwheel sputtered, growing perturbed. That's more like the human Rarity remembered. “I've had tons of baths!”
“Really?” Rarity said, skeptical. “Because you positively reek! When was the last time you had one?”
“I...I don't know...” Painwheel responded, anger melting. She seemed to contemplate the question. “I don't remember the last time I had a bath.”
“Because it's been so long ago?”
“Maybe...there's a huge period of time I can't account for, because...um...”
“Because? Because what?”
“...I don't want to talk about it...” Painwheel said, averting her gaze.
“Ugh...” Rarity said, rubbing her temple. Were all humans so evasive and troublesome? Or was it just this one? The thought occurred, however, that perhaps she referred to the time she was modified. After all, to have a mechanical tail grafted to the back of a tail-less species, and be infected by parasites. That kind of thing doesn't happen by accident. Okay maybe the parasites could have infected her independently, but for such a pervasive, ugly infestation she highly doubted it.
Rarity gulped. Twilight Sparkle had been right about one thing: Painwheel was turned into a weapon by outside forces. And probably not of her own volition, if the extent of her suffering was concerned. Because really, who would hear any doctor promise invasive medical procedures that would leave the subject in agony and think that was a good idea to sign up for? Rarity shuddered. “Very well, then how about we get to cleaning you up?”
She moved in close, before stopping. Those magical chains tying the human down caught her eye. “Oh wait,” she said, reaching out a hoof to poke them. “You...you aren't allowed out of these, are you?”
“No duh,” Painwheel said, pouting. Eyes wandered to her bonds. “So are you going to take them off?”
“He he...I don't think I can...” Rarity said nervously. An accurate statement; she doubted she had the magical knowledge or skill to undo a spell weaved by the Element of Magic herself. Moreover, “You are technically a prisoner. It would be...irresponsible...to just let you loose...” Rarity grew more nervous watching Painwheel glare at her. “I mean, I guess I could ask Twilight to come down and undo the magic...”
“Eh!” Painwheel squeaked, squirming in her seat.
Sigh. “Very well, I won't get her,” Rarity said. “Guess a bath is out. Cursing shame. If I had my way, I'd drag you off to the spa and have the girls there give you a full treatment. You sure need it.” She walked behind the recliner, examining Painwheel's...swastika, was it? “I suppose we'd have to take care not to get this thing wet. It's ghastly, but it would spoil what...” Rarity strained her mind, searching for the word while scowling. “...aesthetic you have going for you. For what that's worth.” Then she noticed something about the chair itself. “Oh, what's this?”
“What? What is...gah!” Painwheel gasped, head falling back as Rarity levitated away the top of her chair back. “What the hell?”
Rarity floated the section of padded furniture away. “Ah ha! This part can be removed!” She used her magic to turn the chair to the side, then adjusted the mechanism that controlled the recline. “Hold on, dearie. I can't give you a bath...” She ran of hoof over Painwheel's head, stopping to examine her hoof with disgust. “Oof! ...but I can at least wash that mane of yours. It's oily and disgusting. It must be tended to immediately!”
Before Painwheel could speak, Rarity walked off, returning minutes later with a small table, bottles of shampoo and conditioner, a towel, and a washbasin filled with water. “Now just relax, Painwheel, and let Miss Rarity handle everything!”
“...okay...”
“Okay what?”
“Okay...Miss Rarity?”
“Good girl!” Rarity set up her supplies and set to work on the oily tangle of brown hair. First order of business: removing the garish hair ornament. It was actually a bit of work pulling it off, as Painwheel's three head “nails” were poking through the skull's eyesockets. “Hmm,” Rarity said. “Painwheel dear?”
“Yes?” Painwheel said, one eye shut, flinching under the fashionista's ministrations.
“If I may be so bold, why the skull?” She floated the skull into Painwheel's field of view, then set it down on the table.
Painwheel scrunched her face in contemplation. “I guess...it's a ward.”
“A...ward?”
“Yes...” answered Painwheel, wincing when Rarity splashed lukewarm water into Painwheel's hair. “Many people where I come from wear some kind of skull on their person. It's supposed to protect you from...from the Skullgirl.”
“Hmm? Really?” Rarity said, feigning at least partial understanding. This “Skullgirl” was likely some figure of superstition, like the Headless Horse or the Bogeypony. “So this Skullgirl...from your wearing this, can I assume you believe in it?”
Then Painwheel gave Rarity a look. One that froze Rarity on the spot. It was a look of profound, existential confusion. No, not mere confusion. Painwheel made a face one might expect to get if one seriously asked what color the sky was or who raised and lowered the sun. Or why it was important not to break a Pinkie Promise. “...what?” asked Rarity, eyes widely noncomprehending.
Painwheel blinked. “Do I...what kind of question is...?” She shook her head. Rarity heard her sigh, and felt as though she came off as a massively ignorant fool. It was...disconcerting. “Yes,” Painwheel said, “I do believe in the Skullgirl. I believe in her harder than anyone alive.” She paused as Rarity resumed washing the brown mane. “But...it wasn't really my choice to wear that. It...came with the clothes...and everything else...”
Rarity regarded the human's clothes, then the weapon mounted to her back. “Oh...oh!” Rarity said. “Oh, well, yes of course. By the way, darling, your clothes are rather shabby as well. I presume you've had no other change of garments in the time...you haven't been bathing?”
“No.”
“Tsk tsk,” Rarity said, shaking her head. “Well that shan't do either. We will have to get you a new set of clothes. Remind me to take your measurements.”
“Do they sell stuff for...” Painwheel began to ask, before grunting. Rarity thought she could hear the girl curse under her breath. “I guess they wouldn't sell human clothes in Equestria, huh?”
“No, they do not,” Rarity said, lathering the shampoo into Painwheel's hair. “Which is why I shall be making them myself,” she declared proudly.
“Make them?”
“Naturally. I'm a dress maker, Painwheel. It's my vocation and calling to produce the most beautiful vestments. If my special talent wasn't in finding jewels, it would most certainly be in fashion.”
“You don't have to do that for me,” Painwheel said sadly.
“Nonsense!” Rarity said, shushing the human quiet. “I'll have none of that. Fashion is my life! It's what I live for! So I've never made anything for a human. No matter!” She bounced in place, a great smile on her face. “I consider it a personal challenge. I would do it anyway, even if you didn't ask or didn't need it. It's a matter of personal pride!”
So distracted was Rarity that she rubbed Painwheel's head and smacked her hoof on one of those nails. It barely fazed Rarity. It sent Painwheel into a convulsion. “Ah! Careful!” Painwheel yelled, contracting in pain. Muscles across her upper body quivered visibly.
“Sorry, sorry!” Rarity said, stroking the side of the human's head gently. “Sweetie, I'm so sorry!”
The poor girl settled down, clamped teeth parting. “Hrm...it's...okay...” she said, unconvincingly.
Rarity breathed a sigh of relief, minding her hoofwork in an attempt to be more careful. This girl was a bundle of nerves, and not just her own.
This would be a tough fix. Assuming, that was, Painwheel could ever completely be fixed. She showed a fair bit of promise, but seeing how much pain she was in left Rarity wondering again.
“I absolutely can't believe you, Twilight!”
Spike stormed into the kitchen, carrying a rucksack, a paper bag, and a cooler. He threw the items on the counter. Twilight Sparkle followed behind, head hung in shame.
“I mean, come on!” Spike exclaimed, throwing up his arms. “Just two days! I go out for two days, and you manage to violate Painwheel's brain!”
“I know...” Twilight said, looking away. “Where were you even? It's not like you to go off alone like that.”
“Hey, don't try to turn this on me, Twilight,” Spike exclaimed, pointing a clawed finger at his employer. “This isn't about me, it's about you! What were you thinking?”
“I don't even know anymore,” Twilight said, clutching her head. “You're right, Spike. I'm sorry.”
“It's not me you need to apologize to,” Spike said, folding his arms. “Did you say sorry to Painwheel?”
“I can't, Spike,” Twilight said. “She won't listen to me. Won't even look at me.”
“I wonder why,” Spike commented, rolling his eyes. “So you're going to do what exactly? Sit around until she stops hating you enough to hear you apologize?”
“Well there's that...” Twilight said, pulling a chair out from the table and sitting down. “Mostly I've been trying to dig back into the books, looking for medical knowledge that might help me remove those parasites. I've sent letters out to various hospitals, asking for advice. Until I hear from them, that's all I can do on that score.
“I'm also looking for ways to send her home.”
“What do you mean, Twilight?” Spike said, scratching his head. “Isn't Painwheel from the Smokey Mountains?”
“That's where Pack Watcher found the last group of humans, sure,” said Twilight, “but Painwheel didn't come from anywhere on this planet.”
“Wait what?” Spike looked dumbfounded. “Shes not from this planet? How do you know?”
“Spike, I've been inside her head.” Twilight sighed. “I know Celestia said not to tell anyone about it, but I've been trying to make due with everything I learned inside Painwheel's head. Let's just say I know for a fact that she comes from somewhere that could not possibly be in Equestria or any other continent. Not the Gryphon Kingdoms, not the North or South poles, not even in the mysterious West. We've mapped most of the world, more or less. Painwheel's civilization isn't some obscure patch of ground hidden on an island or in the brush of some exotic wilderness. If it existed in this world, Equestria would know about it.
“That, and because she's been outside the universe. I've seen it too...what little she could comprehend.”
Spike had to lean on the kitchen counter to steady himself. Maybe Celestia was right to tell Twilight to keep everything under wraps. “There's an...outside? Of the universe I mean?”
Twilight nodded. “And I can't even begin to describe it. The problem is that Painwheel has an imperfect memory of the space between spaces. So unless I can punch a hole in reality and take a gander outside, I'm not going to be any closer to figuring out how to send Painwheel home.”
“Heavy...” Spike said, rubbing his forehead.
“I think that's enough talking about that,” Twilight said. “So where were you these last two days? I see you bought stuff.”
“Yeah,” Spike said, fiddling with his bags. “Well, you know how you said Painwheel was an omnivore? That means she eats meat, right?”
“Oh yeah,” Twilight said, head drooping. “I know now for a fact she eats meat.” Twilight shuddered.
“Thought so,” Spike said. “That's why I decided, if it was going to help her, I'd make her more at home by finding her something...meatier...”
“What!?” Twilight exclaimed, shocked.
“I traveled over to Baltimare and looked up the black market,” Spike said, picking up the cooler and fishing out some bundles wrapped in paper. Her noticed Twilight's shock turn to horror and disgust. “Oh don't give me that look, it's just chicken. I didn't go out and buy cow or donkey or pony meat. I'm not a monster. And really, who are you to judge, mind raper?”
Twilight blushed, frowning. “You have a point,” she said. “Still, that's pretty grisly. What if Fluttershy finds out?”
“Then we just need to never tell her,” Spike said. Still, the thought of her reaction worried him. “Although thinking on it, if Painwheel can eat fish, I should just as Fluttershy where she buys the ones she gives to her carnivore animals. I realized how easy and less expensive that would be when I realized the black market also sold fish. But only after I bought the chicken. What a waste of royal funds.”
“Yeah, maybe we should have words about putting state bits into the hands of flesh peddlers,” Twilight said. No doubt Spike referred to the Gryphon black market, catering mostly to their kind, given how much meat Gryphons are accustomed to eating. “By the way, were there any ponies buying?”
“A couple, but I didn't look too closely, and they didn't either,” Spike said. “I didn't think ponies ate there, but I guess there's nothing stopping one from eating meat. What do you think?”
“Well, I guess thanks to Painwheel, I now know what it's like,” Twilight said, nervously. “It's...an experience I can say I don't need to research firsthand anymore.” She looked away, sweat dripping down her neck.
“Then maybe while you're saying you're sorry, you can say thank you.” Spike giggled sardonically.
A very bored Painwheel peered to the balcony overlooking the basement. A familiar Earth pony sidled through the door, stetson sitting on her blond head. Painwheel honestly knew not whether to be uneasy or thankful at the arrival. On the one hand, the orange-furred farmer hadn't endeared herself to the human. Getting pelted in the face by debris will do that.
On the other hand, Painwheel typically had three things to do while waiting for her appointments: wait impatiently for a meal, dread the arrival of Twilight Sparkle, and sit quietly with nothing but throbbing parasitic pain for company. “Hello,” Painwheel said, watching the Earth pony walk down the stairs. “Is it your turn to grace me with your presence?”
“Eeyup,” Applejack said, trotting over. “Ah decided, what with my sister and her friends coming over for their little meeting with Twilight, that Ah'd come along.”
“Oh...” Painwheel said, frowning. “Those...kids are here too?”
Almost on cue, a crash came from above. It was the sound of ceramic hitting wood. A muffled apology could be heard through the walls.
“Oh, they're here, alright,” Applejack said, chuckling. “Applebloom, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo have what they call 'Twilight Time' every week. Twilight's always been smart, so she's taken to instructing them on stuff like magic or potion making...or mechanics...” Applejack trailed off, growing visibly disconcerted.
That explained so much. Painwheel's greatest (Equestrian) enemies were in collusion. She snorted derisively.
“...yeah...” Applejack mumbled. She attempted a smile; it was tainted by a nervous, guilty countenance. Eventually she sighed, taking her hat off and holding it in front of her. “Bein' all contrite and er'rything, Ah came mostly to apologize.”
Painwheel blinked. “Okay,” she said. “Go on.”
“Ah talked to Applebloom and the others, after we tied you up like a hay bale and sent you to dreamland. After we sent for a hospital cart for Rainbow Dash. Ah wanted to know what those fillies were doin', and you said something 'bout a powered cart.
“They spilled the beans, a' course,” Applejack said, eyes downcast. “That they went and built an engine and stuck it in one of the old Apple Family carts, and started driving it through town. How it went out of control...and how you were the only one around who could stop it before it crashed or exploded.” She looked up at Painwheel. “When Ah came in, all Ah could see was a scary monster, towerin' over those girls and spooking them right fierce. It...didn't occur ta me that Ah might have been seeing their savior.” She placed the hat back on her head. The human couldn't help notice a patch on it, likely where she shot it through with a dart. “For what it's worth, Ah'm sorry. Sorry for attacking ya when it weren't proper or necessary.”
The human frowned. “...you're not really to blame,” Painwheel said. “I was the one who overreacted. I was...just so angry.”
“But Ah was angry too,” Applejack said. “Ah was angry that my sister...and with er'rythin' and...how do Ah say this?” A hoof rose to her temple, messaging it. “...you have an excuse for why ya'll acted the way you did. Ah didn't. Ah saw my sister and her friends were safe, and instead of holding back so Twi and Fluttershy could defuse the situation, Ah ran in hooves blazing and made er'rythin' worse.
“It always happens with me,” the farmer continued, looking away somberly. “Ah'm supposed ta be the sensible one. Ah gotta be, what with workin' on the farm and runnin' the apple stand...and havin' to deal with my friends.” She lowered her voice a tad, stealing glances to the basement door above. “Who Ah might say have pretty...dramatic personalities.”
“Tell me about it,” Painwheel said, a minute smile crossing her lips. “Rarity was in here yesterday.”
“See what Ah mean?” Applejack snorted. But her merriment dimmed again. “So Ah can't afford to go off and make bull-headed decisions. And most times, Ah don't...unless my family gets involved.”
Family. Painwheel's chest tightened. She swallowed hard.
“If it's my family, Ah seem ta always make the dumb moves,” Applejack said, mournfully. “Like Ah can't think sensible, you know? Then er'rypony suffers 'cause of my hot head. Like when my brother Big Macintosh got injured one time, and Ah decided it would be a good idea ta take all the harvest responsibilities onta myself, instead a' askin' for help. Or that time with the vampire fruit bats...”
“Vampire fruit bats?” Painwheel said, befuddled. What fresh hell was this now?
“It's an entire thing,” Applejack said, looking away. “Ah...don't really want ta talk about it. Point is, Ah'm stupid when it comes ta my family...and it eats me up inside that Ah took it out on you.”
Painwheel wanted to respond. To tell Applejack she wasn't to blame. That Painwheel didn't have the excuse of fighting for anyone but herself. But before she could say anything, a chorus of cheers erupted from upstairs.
“Looks like someponies are having a good time,” Applejack said, beaming slightly. “You know Painwheel, Ah'm glad those fillies get to spend time here er'ry week.”
“Why?” Painwheel asked, puzzled. “Is it because they're getting an education? Does this world not have regular schools?”
“Naw, we do have school,” Applejack said. “Those three go to school all week, at a little schoolhouse. Run by Miss Cherilee. Nice lady, knows her stuff. But then again, she teaches young foals. Twilight knows a lot more about...well basically er'rythin'.”
“Maybe a bit too much,” Painwheel muttered softly, hoping the Earth pony wouldn't hear.
No such luck. “Yeah, sorry about that too,” Applejack said. “Twi's really a sweet mare, but like me she's got places where her brightness...ain't so much bright. You know?” She shook her head. “But that's not all of why Ah like to see Applebloom and her little friends around here. It's also 'cause Ah know when they're over at Twilight's, they ain't getting into trouble.
“You know that cart?” she continued. “They do that kind of stuff all the time. Been doin' it for years. Hang gliding, float building, musical theater, eating competitions, consorting with chaos...it's enough to drive me up the wall.” To emphasis her point, she clutched her hooves to the sides of her head and messaged them.
“Then why let it go on?” Painwheel asked. They did such blatantly dangerous stunts all the time? How were they not dead yet? “Do they have a death wish? What is all this for?”
“Cutie marks.”
“Cutie whats?”
“Cutie marks,” Applejack repeated. She turned so her side faced the seated human. A forehoof bent back and pointed to her flank, upon which was an image of three red apples. “One of these. Er'rypony gets one when they're old enough. They represent their special talent, what that pony is good at.” Applejack's voice carried a tone of exhaustion. “Mine's for being so good at applebuckin'.” She demonstrated by rearing and kicking with her back legs.
“Yeah, I know,” Painwheel quiped, “I got to feel the force behind those legs personally. Thanks for almost collapsing my ribcage, by the way.”
“Sorry again,” Applejack said, rubbing the back of her head. “Like I said, though, cutie marks come to er'rypony in time. Trouble is, Applebloom and her little friends are young and impatient. They want to find their special talents soon as possible, so they formed their team – the Cutie Mark Crusaders – to do all sorts of stuff and find them. Like throwing a whole lotta stuff against the wall to see what sticks.
“On the one hoof, Ah don't wanna be that kind of sister that squashes their fun or stops them from following their dreams. Ah don't. But on the other hoof, I get so worried all the time.” A deep, concerned frown crossed her face. Her ears when flat against her head. “Any given day, Ah worry that maybe that'll be the day somepony comes with the bad news. That they hurt themselves or killed themselves doing something reckless. Or that they'll come back with cutie marks in...things Ah don't even want to think about.”
A sobering thought. Painwheel – or rather Carol – had no siblings. She was an only child. But she could understand the sentiment well enough. Perpetually fearful of a loved one – a young one at that – going off and not coming home. Yet at the same time knowing they'll only be ill-served if they're never allowed to pursue their interests or find their true callings.
What's my true calling? Painwheel pondered this thought a moment. She hadn't really thought about what she would be doing the rest of her life, even before Lab Zero. Now that she was Painwheel – bound in an accursed straightjacket of her own body – what could she do? Not to mention she wasn't even on Earth anymore. Up until she got to Equestria her preoccupation was with getting free, killing the Skullgirl, and going home. She'd completed all of those things, and none of it helped. Now Painwheel was stuck in Equestria with no signs of going returning to her world.
Slowly it dawned on her. An uncomfortable realization. If I was released tomorrow, she thought, what would I do? If I gained my freedom, what would it be the freedom to do? What's MY special talent?
And would it be worth pursuing...if it meant living in such pain?
“So did you hear the news?”
Twilight picked through the pile of produce on sale. Spike requested a number of vegetables, particularly carrots and beans. Somehow, he'd managed to find a Griffon cookbook, and picked out a recipe for white chicken soup. It sounded...well, honestly it made Twilight queasy just thinking about it, but she could hardly account for the tastes of a meat-eater. Knowing how much work he went through to get the main ingredient (cough cough), she offered to pick up the rest herself.
Besides, Twilight Sparkle spent more than enough time in the library these days. It was nice to get out...and out of Painwheel's hair. Twilight felt guilty being in the same room with her.
“No, I haven't, Carrot Top,” Twilight said, setting her selections to one side of the produce stand. “I've been cooped up in the library for a while. What news is this?”
“Okay get this, Twilight,” said Golden Harvest – or Carrot Top as she was often called. “I heard from Written Script that the groundskeeper for the Ponyville Cemetery woke up yesterday and found several graves dug up. Dirt piled everywhere, and the graves inside emptied. Isn't that spooky?”
“Whoa! That is spooky!” Twilight said, whistling. “Do they have any idea who or what could have done it?”
“Nope, not a clue. Weird thing is, Noteworthy was out there visiting his mom the day before, and he said nothing was wrong. So whoever – or whatever – dug up those graves did it in one night.” She punctuated the last three words by tapping the cart with a hoof.
“Oh dear,” Twilight said, stroking her chin. “To do that would require an entire team of ponies working. And you're saying it was how many graves?”
“A dozen or so, I think,” Carrot Top said, holding her hoof out to accept Twilight's bits. “Thanks for your business, Twilight! I'll keep my ear out if anything new develops.”
“I sure hope nothing 'develops' from this, if it's all the same to you,” Twilight said, giving a dry chuckle. She waved goodbye as she walked back home. First Painwheel arrived in Ponyville, and now grave-robbing. What was next? More vampire related shenanigans?
Fluttershy shook like a leaf. She was at her wits end. For all the life of her, she couldn't get the human girl to let her do anything or say anything. It was...demoralizing.
Was this how Twilight felt? Was this what led to her losing it and diving into the girl's mind? Would Fluttershy end up the same way before too long? These questions frightened the butter yellow pegasus. “I just want to help you, Painwheel,” she squeaked.
“You can help by going away,” Painwheel said sternly. She looked haggard, her brow moist with sweat, brown hair matted.
“But why?” Fluttershy asked, eyes growing moist. “What did I do to you that was so terrible?”
“You took my will away, that's what!” Painwheel exclaimed, raising her voice. Her hands gripped the arms of her chair.
“What?!” Fluttershy said, shrinking. “But I-”
“No buts!” Painwheel said, her crooked teeth barred. Those red eyes, set in black, ogled the pegasus contemptuously. “Back in the fight, you did something to me. Something with those...those eyes of yours. They made me weak! Made me crumble and do whatever you wanted! Took away my ability to think and feel and act the way I wanted!” Painwheel trembled, gritting her teeth. She winced, flesh in her arms quivering. “Aah!” she hissed.
“Painwheel!” Fluttershy gasped, running the human's side. She tried to place a hoof on Painwheel's elbow. “Don't strain yourself so much! You'll make the pain worse!”
“You don't know my pain!” Painwheel shouted, violently pushing back with her elbow, causing the pegasus to recoil fearfully. “None of you really knows what it's like to feel this way! So stop acting like you're so empathetic! You disgust me!”
Fluttershy clutched the hoof she tried to touch Painwheel with. Tears began flowing from her eyes. Her voice cracked, “I...I'm sorry...I'm just trying to help, Painwheel...”
“Well fat lot of that you're doing,” Painwheel mumbled. Her own eyes glistened with moistness, but this born of anger. “You come into my life, saying you want to help. And then you break into my head...and...and you fuck around with my mind. My free will. You...and Twilight Sparkle...you're both the same.
“You're both just like him.” Painwheel whispered now, voice croaking. “Just like Brain Drain...damn you and her and him...”
Fluttershy collapsed to the floor. Fresh, full tears emptied out on the ground, the pegasus choking out sobs. “...you...you're r-right...”
“...hmm?” Painwheel said, looking down at the pony.
“You're right,” Fluttershy repeated, looking up. “I've b-been going on about how I w-want to help you. Yet all I've done so far is hurt.” She sniffed, rubbing her nose with her foreleg. “I had no idea my Stare...that you'd suffered so. Using my Stare hurt you really bad, didn't it?”
“...yeah, it did,” Painwheel said softly. She too sniffed.
“I'm s-sorry,” Fluttershy bawled, leaping to her hooves and embracing Painwheel around the waist. “I'm so sorry Painwheel! I'm such a terrible pony!”
The pale, bare flesh flinched under Fluttershy's touch. “Oomph!” Painwheel said, watching the pony weep on her. “...uh...” Her expression softened considerably. “Um...it's okay...I'll accept your apology, so long as you stop crawling on me all the time...”
A pink-maned head shot up, down-flat ears standing up hopefully. “...y-you will?”
“...sure?” Painwheel said, one eyebrow raised. “I guess...?”
“Oh thank you!” Fluttershy said, making to leap up and wrap her legs around Painwheel's shoulders. But a momentary pause causes her to reconsider, and she breaks away, blushing. “Sorry.”
Painwheel sighed. “It's alright,” she said, closing her eyes. “...I guess I can't hold it against you. I was going on a rampage and trying to kill you and your friends.”
“Yeah...” Fluttershy said, scratching the back of her head. An awkward silence ensued, before the pony spoke again. “So, who is Brain Drain?”
“Huh?”
“Brain Drain. You compared me and Twilight to him, so I wonder what he did.” Fluttershy shivered. “I hope it's not too bad, that you'd think of me like that.”
Pondering the point, Painwheel shrugged. “Actually, I probably wasn't being fair. Brain Drain wasn't as bad as you.”
“Oh...oh dear...” Fluttershy said, ears drooping against her skull. “Does that mean I'm...?”
“He was so much worse.”
Fluttershy let out a sigh of relief. “Goodness,” she said, smiling minutely. “That's good to hear...oh wait no!” She suddenly started trembling, contrite as could be. “I didn't mean to say it was good you-”
“Fluttershy?”
“I, um...what?”
“Calm down,” Painwheel said. She sighed again. “I get what you mean.”
“So was he really so bad?”
“He really was. Brain Drain was a bastard.” When Fluttershy flinched under the curse, Painwheel continued, “He's a cyborg with a brain visible under a glass skullcap. He was the one who ordered me turned into...this.” She looked down at her own form. “He's also psychic. When I first woke up the way I am now, I couldn't think straight. It hurt so much, and I was so angry. I went off on anything around me, with aimless fury. Then Brain Drain started feeding commands into my head. Told me where to go, what to do...who to kill...”
Fluttershy gasped. “Oh goodness! How horrible!”
“Mm hmm,” Painwheel hummed, nodding sadly. “I've fought many horrible people and things. Some even what you'd call demons.” Painwheel frowned somberly. “But Brain Drain was no mere demon. He was the devil himself. If I had the chance right now, I'd go and kill him myself. Count on it.”
Fluttershy gulped loudly. “M-maybe it would be better to talk about something else...”
“And...done!”
Spike ladled steamy chicken soup into a bowl, sitting on a tray. He hopped down from his step stool and picked up the tray. “This stuff smells so good, even I kind of want to try it,” Spike said, licking his lips. As a dragon, he was perfectly capable of consuming flesh. But he was also raised by ponies, and thus had few opportunities to do so.
If Painwheel didn't end up liking the soup, he would clearly have no choice but to eat it himself. No sense in letting good food go to waste.
As he made his way to the basement door, he counted it odd how quiet it was. Earlier of course, Spike heard shouting. He almost got worried, but the shouting stopped. Spike didn't actually know which of their friends came over that day, but it would seem Painwheel calmed down after a while.
Spike waltzed into the basement, taking the stairs down. He shouldn't worry so much. Painwheel was making progress he was sure, and especially with whichever pony came to visit. So long as it wasn't Fluttershy, they would probably be in the clear.
“Hey Painwheel, it's lunch time! Guess what I cooked for you today.”
“Ooh! Whatever it is smells scrumptious!”
Spike froze in his tracks. It was Fluttershy. Fluttershy came to visit. The same Fluttershy with a love for animals. The Fluttershy who would die or freak out if she knew one was served in a soup with beans and carrots.
The dragon gulped. “O-oh. H-h-hi F-fluttershy,” he stammered, the tray shaking in his claws. “What are you...I mean, what are you two doing down here?” He tried to put on a smile, but could already tell it wasn't a good mask.
Fluttershy didn't seem to notice. “Oh, Painwheel and I were just talking about flowers!” she said, smiling. “Did you know she kept a garden back at home with all kinds of them!” She turned around to Painwheel again. “Which ones did you say you planted, Painwheel?”
Painwheel shrugged. Her face looked a little puffy, but she seemed fairly calm and collected. “I liked to plant Buttercups, Freesia, and White Lilacs*, and my mom preferred Magenta Zinnias, Tulips, and...Queen Anne's Lace**...” The human frowned at that last one. Spike raised an eyebrow. What was that about?
Then again, he didn't have much time to worry about a flower he'd never even heard of. “Well, I guess you have a lot of talking to do, so maybe I should just come back.”
“Oh no, don't do that!” Fluttershy said, waving a hoof. “You went to all that trouble to make Painwheel lunch. It would be a shame to let it go cold. Wouldn't it, Painwheel?”
“Oh, uh, yeah, I guess,” Painwheel said, snapping out of her funk. “I am pretty hungry.”
Spike frowned. Great, no way to sidestep the issue.
“So what did you make, Spike?” Fluttershy said, attempting to step close to the tray. Her nostrils flared, so as to take a big whiff.
Spike swung the tray behind him, holding it away from the prying eyes – and nose – of the pegasus. “Oh nothing, it's really nothing,” he said, releasing a nervous laugh. “Just some beans and carrots...and some other stuff. You know, vegetable soup.” Sweat rolled down his scaly brow. “Nothing offensive or out of the ordinary here. Just good old vegetable soup. He he.”
“Oh, well okay then,” Fluttershy said, puzzled. “Can I help you feed her?”
“No!” Spike said, causing the pegasus to jump. “I-I mean, no, I've got it. Plus, I have hands, so it'll be easy for me. No need for help here, I got it.”
“...are you sure?”
“Positive!” Spike said, walking past Fluttershy – keeping the tray on the opposite side of his body as he went. Setting the tray on the side table, he stepped in front of it so Fluttershy couldn't peek. More sweat yet poured down his face, the young dragon fighting to hold a confident affectation up. “I'm sure we'll be just fine.” He paused, mind racing. Had to get her out of the house. “Is there anything you've been meaning to do, Fluttershy? This might take a while. Painwheel can be a pretty messy eater.”
“I am not!” Painwheel interjected, pouting. “I'm a great eater! Etiquette was one of the things I excelled at!”
“...he he,” Spike chuckled, darting eyes back and forth between the two girls. “I stand corrected...but Fluttershy, don't you need to feed your chickens or something?”
“No,” Fluttershy said, casually. “I fed all my chickens this morning before I came in.” By this point Spike was almost ready to scream. However, “But now that I think about it, I've been meaning to drop by the hardware store and buy some nails. That fence for the ferret enclosure needs to be fixed.” She smiled softly. “Thanks for reminding me, Spike! I guess I'll be seeing you soon, Painwheel.” He waved, winging her way to the top of the balcony and exiting through the door.
Spike sagged in place, nearly falling to the ground. Air escaped his lungs in a relieved sigh. “Thank Celestia she finally left,” he said, wiping away cold brow sweat.
“And why did she have to leave, exactly?” Painwheel asked, frowning. “I'm hungry, sure, but I was actually having a nice conversation. What gives?”
“What gives...” Spike began, picking up the tray of food, “is that I didn't make you vegetable soup.” He lifted it up so the human could see the contents of the bowl up close. “I made you chicken soup. Chicken!” He was whispering now, darting an eye to the basement door.
“...oh...so?”
“Aside from having to go to great lengths to get it, since ponies have kind of a thing against the slaughter and sale of animals?” Spike asked, picking up a spoon and stirring the bowl's contents. “How about because Fluttershy is the greatest animal lover ever, and would go crazy if she found out what was in this.”
“...thank you,” Painwheel said, expression softening to one of gratitude. “I haven't had chicken in...a long time.”
Spike beamed in satisfaction, scooping up a spoonful of soup with a carrot, some beans, and a bite-sized chunk of chicken breast. “Don't mention it. You've been through a lot, so it's only right you be treated.” He moved the spoon into Painwheel's waiting jaws, the latter greedily savoring the taste of bird flesh. Spike smiled at the human hum happily. “Glad you like it. And so long as Fluttershy doesn't find out, we'll be...”
“SPIKE!” came a shriek from upstairs.
“...just fine...” Spike cringed, shoulders sagging. He knew he should have been more careful where he put that pot of soup.
The cafe owner frowned, looking down at his customer's plate. “Well if you don't like daffodil sandwiches, you should have ordered something else.”
“No, no, I'm not talking about...” Goose Down rubbed the bridge of his nose. “The sandwich is fine, Al. Your sandwiches are always the best in town.”
“Certainly have better hay burgers than the fast food place on the other side of town,” said Lemon Hearts, taking slow drag from her iced tea.
“Yeah, what she said,” Goose Down commented. “So it's not your cooking, Al. I don't like the situation, is what I was telling Lemon.”
“What situation?” said Al Gratin, folding the tray under one forleg.
“You would know better than anyone, Al. That monster!” Goose slammed his hoof on the table.
“Careful, I just fixed that from last time,” Al said, wincing at the table. “But what about the monster?”
“The fact that it's still here in Ponyville, right in the center of town, and the authorities are just letting it sit there!” Goose exclaimed, gesticulating with his hooves. “I don't care what the mayor or the Princesses say, that's a disaster waiting to happen!”
“But Celestia put those royal guard guys around the library,” Al objected.
“Yeah, all of two guards at any time,” Goose said, derisively. “Fat lot of good two stallions will do against that...that thing. I mean come on, you saw it in action yourself just like I did.”
“Al, didn't it confront you in the flesh?” Lemon Hearts asked. “And it nearly took your head off?”
“Well that was...” Al said. “Yeah, you've got a point.” He paused. “But, I mean, it's also got Princess Twilight right there, along with the rest of her friends. Surely they could handle it.”
“Handle it like last time, when a main thoroughfare got smashed up and one of them almost got killed?” Goose Down shook his head. “No, I can't feel safe knowing that monster is still around. I mean, can't they banish it to the Everfree forest? Or send it to the Gulag Archipelago?”
“Oh come on, Goose,” said Al Gratin, “You know the Gulag is just a myth.”
“No, it was quite real,” chimed Lemon Hearts. “It was a real prison camp from way back. It's on an island chain up north somewhere. The Princesses decommissioned it centuries ago.”
“Okay, fair enough,” said Goose. “But we've got prisons or dungeons or penal colonies. Why not send the monster out? Anywhere better than a poorly secured library basement with only two guards and a bookworm princess to contain it.”
“I think you're underestimating Princess Twilight,” said Al. “She's saved Ponyville more times than I can count, and she's been here only a couple years now. I should think she knows what she's doing.”
“I wonder about that,” said Goose, squinting his eyes. “Ponies have still been hearing screams from that place. Morning, noon, and night.” Admittedly, Goose was exaggerating a bit. Unknowingly, though, given the power of confirmation bias. Not that he'd ever realize this, or admit to it if he did. “And then there's the stuff with the graveyard.”
“The graverobbing?” Lemon asked. “What about that?”
“Isn't it strange that this creature shows up one day, gets captured, and suddenly a bunch of corpses go missing?” Goose asked. “Seems awfully suspicious.”
“I'm not following, Goose,” Lemon said.
“I mean, maybe it's got something do with Sparkle.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Al said, waving a hoof. “What Goose, are you suggesting that Princess Twilight defiled those graves? You're seriously suggesting that?”
“I might be.”
“Why?”
“Monsters have to eat, don't they?” Goose said, watching the other two's faces light up with disgust. “Think about it. Twilight Sparkle levitated an Ursa Major...”
“Ursa Minor,” Lemon Hearts corrected.
“Ursa Minor, whatever,” Goose said, rolling his eyes. “She levitated a massive star-bear across town, and did a whole bunch of other stuff along the way, and sent the thing into the Everfree forest. That was all before she became a princess, too. If anypony could dig up a dozen graves and hail away their contents, in one night, it's her. I think she dug them up to feed her new pet monster, and paid off the groundskeeper to keep him quiet.”
“Goose, please,” Al Gratin said. “Listen to yourself. You're accusing the Princess of exhuming bodies to feed them to a wild creature she has locked in her basement. It's ludicrous.”
“Is it?” Goose said simply. “Our dear royal librarian has done some crazy things in the past. I certainly didn't like being in the middle of a pile of ponies, fighting over a raggedy plush toy, because she went over the deep end. And right now, I'm scared.”
“Scared?” Lemon repeated.
“Scared,” Goose confirmed. “Because what happens when that ghoul finishes snacking on our dearly departed? What happens when Twilight Sparkle runs out of dead bodies? Are we going to see normal, everyday ponies disappearing?”
“Goose stop it!” Al said. “That's insane! The creature eats bread and tomatoes, not corpses. I should know, I saw it raid my cafe for food. You're being irrational. Isn't that right, Lemon?”
“...yeah, Al's right, Goose,” Lemon Hearts said. “That seems a bit far fetched.”
Goose Down sputtered for a second, looking back and forth between the two. Then he sighed. “Okay, maybe I'm a little off-base on that. But I still can't sleep soundly at night knowing that thing is just waiting to break out and go on another rampage. And I'm not the only pony who thinks that. A whole bunch of townsponies do.”
“I got to admit, I feel that way too,” said Lemon.
“And what about you, Al?” Goose said, staring the cafe owner in the eyes. “What if it gets out and comes back around to your cafe? What if it's not going to be satisfied with hay burgers?”
Al Gratin frowned nervously. “...well...”
“I say, we ought to do something about it,” Goose said, thinking. “Who knows what that monster is doing?”
Painwheel stared into the polychromatic pegasus' eyes. The latter returned the somber attention. If Painwheel was to guess, she would say her current guest interpreted the assignment as an order to watch the human, nothing more.
Perfectly okay with Painwheel. There was no pressing matters they needed to discuss anyway.
Unfortunately, an impromptu staring contest could hold either girl's attention for only so long. Rainbow Dash's eyes began to drift, her posture sagging more and more each passing moment. Within minutes, she leaned down to rest on her side, the one opposite her injury. White linen bandages clung around her furry flesh. Dash released a bored sigh, still keeping her eyes on Painwheel.
Painwheel released her own sigh in return. It would be a long day at this rate.
Or maybe not. “Ugh,” Rainbow Dash sighed, louder this time.
“Mugh...” Painwheel sighed. If nothing else, an impromptu shift from impromptu staring contest to impromptu sighing contest was slightly more interesting. Barely.
“Uuugh.”
“Heeeeegh.”
“Uuuuuuuugh.”
“Muuuuuuuuuuugh.”
“Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuu-” Rainbow Dash's latest, most drawn-out sigh was interrupted by a spontaneous burp. “Oh horsefeathers!”
“He he,” Painwheel chuckled lightly, the barest glimmer of a smile appearing on her lips.
I must really be desperate if this is what passes for entertainment, she thought. But I'll take it.
“Oh, you think you've won, huh?” Rainbow Dash said, rising to her hooves with a little wince. She hobbled over to Painwheel's chair. “I just got off a big lunch, so that doesn't count. You hear me?”
Painwheel snorts. “Right, sure, whatever you say.”
“I'm serious!” The pegasus stamps her hoof. “Do you know who I am? I'm Rainbow Dash. Nopony you'll ever meet can beat me! I'm the best!” She smiled proudly, tilting head up.
“Unless it's in a dogpile, at which point you're the last to rush off even when you have advance warning.” Painwheel pointed to the bandaged side of the pony. “I'm surprised with such a painful wound that you'd forget that fact.”
Rainbow Dash's eyes went wide. “...buh...guh...spuh...oh what do you know?” She pointed a hoof in Painwheel's face. “I've had worse.”
“Really?” Painwheel said, eyebrow raised.
“Yeah, really. It's just a flesh wound, anyway.” Her expression turned haughty. “Besides, this little cut didn't stop me from making a tornado right on top of you. A whole tornado!”
“That you needed the help of your friends to pull off,” Painwheel said. “In fact, that entire fight was six on one, and you all needed to pull out all the stops to beat me.”
“Are you telling me I couldn't beat you alone?”
“Yes, I am.” Painwheel stretched out her neck, willing herself to avoid the parasitic pain it elicited. “Plus, I wasn't even full strength at the time.”
“Likely story,” Rainbow Dash said, rolling her eyes. “Let me guess, you were having an off day?”
“Not as such. I just got off about six or seven fights two days prior.”
“Liar.”
“I'm not lying,” said Painwheel, growing annoyed. “Before I came to Equestria, I fought a whole bunch of strong fighters. One right after the other.”
“Okay,” Dash said, eyebrow raised. “I'll bite. What kind of fighters were they?”
“How about a woman with a hat that grew muscular arms?” Painwheel said. “Wider than a fruit cart, all told.”
“Pshaw! That's nothing,” Dash said, waving a hoof. “You ever face off against a shape-stealing parasite?”
“Yes, I have. She was ugly as sin, which was weird since she was a nun. Ever fight a cat woman that could detach her own head and throw it at you?”
“How about dig dogs in armor who could burrow underground like moles?”
“A girl with an infinite supply of explosives?”
“Hair tentacles?”
“Fought that before, too,” Painwheel said, cocking an eyebrow. “Were yours on the head of a woman?”
“A mare, yeah,” Dash said, similarly cocking an eyebrow. “Ever fought the avatar of chaos?”
“Ever fought the avatar of death, with an army of skeletons at her command?”
Rainbow Dash and Painwheel locked eyes, sizing each other up. Eventually, the pony blinked. “Did you really fight all those things? Or are you just bragging?”
“I really did,” Painwheel said. “All in the same day.”
“No way!”
“Way!”
The pegasus stopped and considered that for a moment. “...really?”
“Really.”
“...that...is...so...AWESOME!”
Painwheel blinked. “What?”
Rainbow Dash smiled wide. “I knew you were pretty hardcore from our fight, but that's just amazing!” She jumped up and down, wincing slightly from her injury. “Ow...uh, I mean wow! And the way you flew! Can you do that all the time?”
Painwheel nodded. “Yeah, sure. My Buar Drive has a lot of functions.” Honestly, if the Gae Bolga didn't weigh her down so much, Painwheel could probably fly higher, faster.
Looking back on it, flying was one of the genuinely positive experiences she had during that time.
“Cool!” Dash said, whistling. “You know, I have a pet turtle with a propeller.”
“You have...a turtle?”
“Yeah I know, fastest pegasus in all of Equestria, and she has a turtle for a pet,” Dash said, waving her hoof and rolling her eyes. “But I tell you, Tank – that's my tortoise – is a truer animal buddy than I'd ever seen. And I mean it. Me and Fluttershy set up this entire testing circuit to find me an awesome pet. Turned out Tank acted like a better friend, even though he wasn't the swiftest.” She scratched the back of her head. “Really not the swiftest. It's why Twilight built a little magical propeller to stick on his back, so he could keep up.
“Back during the fight, when you started flying, it reminded me of Tank's helicopter thingie. Except, obviously, scarier.” She stopped, then cringed. Tilting her head up again, she said, “Not that I was scared, of course. I just had a...healthy understanding of the threat you posed. You were, after all, flying, automatically making you ten times more dangerous. Not to me though.”
“Sure,” said Painwheel, smiling minutely. “And I'm certain you were totally going to deal with my attack yourself before Twilight Sparkle shot me.”
“I would have dodged in time!” Dash objected. “But enough of that, I've had plenty of adventures myself. Wanna hear about the time me and the others gained super powers?”
“Um...okay...” Painwheel said, intrigued.
“Okay, it all started when we got sucked into a magic comic book...don't look at me like that, I know how it sounds...”
“AAGH!”
Painwheel shot awake, face contorted. Bloodshot eyes opened with a start. A shrill hiss issued from her mouth, followed by a sharp moan.
More pain. Her parasites were moving around again.
She squirmed in her chair, beginning to hyperventilate. Tears rolled down her face. Instinct compelled her to clutch her chest. But limbs refused to move from their positions. More panicked, pained moans came from her throat. Why couldn't she move? Why was she strapped down? Images of Zero Lab rushed through her head; horrible memories that seemed so fresh. Where was the nurse? Where was Valentine? Where was Brain Drain?
Painwheel struggled even harder against the bonds. Stress induced her feisty parasites to squirm more readily. Each throbbing, stinging movement elicited a scream or groan. “Ah! Ugh! Fffuu-”
She needed to get out. Get away. Couldn't stay there. Not in the lab. Not in Lab Zero. Had to get away. Had to do something – anything – to make the pain stop.
“AAAAHHH!” she shrieked, rolling her head around in frustration.
“Painwheel! What's wrong?!”
Her eyes opened again, agony causing her to shut them. She searched for the voice. Finally, she saw the dimly lit form of a diminutive dragon. Painwheel looked all around herself, taking in her surroundings. “Ugh! N-not the lab?”
“No, Painwheel! You're not in the Lab,” Spike said, placing claws gently on her arm.
“Not...the lab...” she gasped through short, heaving breaths. Her damp, sweat-drenched body chilled in the night air. “Not the lab...”
“That's right, you're right here, Painwheel,” Spike said, patting her arm reassuringly. The girl saw he had bags under his eyes. “You're safe, Painwheel. No one is going to hurt you.”
“...really...?” Painwheel gasped, tears flowing down her face. “B-but...but it still hurts...”
“I know it hurts, Painwheel, but it's going to be alright.” The dragon placed a hand to her shoulder, rubbing it. He even found a tissue and began wiping away the girl's tears. “We're here to help you. You're safe here. Twilight is looking for a way to make the pain go away.”
“No more pain?” The question was emphatic, a child-like mixture of hope and disbelief.
“No more pain...we'll get through this.” Spike smiled. “Just hang on.”
Painwheel sniffed, swallowed. “...okay...”
“Okay?”
“Okay.”
Somewhere above, watching over the two, Twilight Sparkle stood in the doorway. Her heart felt as if constricted in a hot vice. For she knew – if only by proxy – just how greatly the poor Carol suffered.
The knowledge of her own failure thus far made the heartache all the more palpable.
Knock, knock. “Lyra, come out. It's Twilight Sparkle.”
Within moments, the mint-colored unicorn opened the front door, popping her head out. “Oh hey, Twilight. What's going on?”
“What's going on is I'm pretty sure you have what I need,” Twilight said. “You wouldn't happen to own a copy of 'Humans Of The Smokey Mountains: A Case Study', penned by Pack Watcher, would you?”
Lyra Heartstrings froze. Her entire body shivered. “Um...I don't know what you're...”
“Give it up, Lyra,” said Twilight, flatly. “I know you have it.”
“N-no, I really don't!” Lyra insisted, shaking her head. “I've n-never heard of such a book in my life! Honest!” She produced a nervous smile, sweat beading on her brow.
Twilight sighed. If the unicorn wanted to do it the hard way. “For reasons I have little desire to go into here, I have need of that book,” she explained. “So I requested a search for it in the Canterlot Royal library. Turns out there's a record of that volume being there, but having been loaned by request to the Baltimare University library. It was used by a student for a thesis regarding a possible correlation between bipedal forms and higher instances on a species-wide level of violence. The thesis was rejected, by the way, but that's another matter.
“From there it was returned to the Baltimare University library, where it remained for some years. Then, a few short years ago, a student checked out the volume, but never returned it. Instead, she graduated, moving to Ponyville.”
Lyra gulped heavily.
“So, Lyra,” Twilight continued. “Have you heard about the book now?”
“...I always meant to bring it back,” Lyra said, seeming nearly on the verge of tears. “I just...it was so...fascinating...”
“Oh, believe me, Lyra,” Twilight said, putting on a soft smile, “I know that feeling. I know it very well. You actually saved me postage, if not time, by having it.” Her smile dropped a bit. “But, just so you know, Baltimare U still expects you to pay the overdue book fine. Just FYI.”
“He he, yeah...” Lyra laughed neurotically. “...let me just go upstairs and get it.” She left Twilight waiting a while, until returning with a weathered, well-loved volume enveloped in her aura. “You know, when I was studying music in Baltimare, this was my favorite book. My mom used to tell me all sorts of stories, and one of them was of these amazing, weird creatures called 'humans'. So when I found this book, I fell in love.” She nuzzled her snout against the book, sighing. “Here you go, Twilight.”
“Thank you, Lyra,” Twilight said, taking the text, planting it in her saddlebag.
“By any chance, mind telling me why the sudden interest in humans?”
“If I know a certain friend of mine,” said Twilight, rolling her eyes, “you'll find out soon enough. In the most overwrought fashion possible.”
“Mmrr...”
Painwheel growled, head bobbing. Her eyelids felt like lead, itchy and sore. The sun outside was shining, birds chirping; truly it was a beautiful day. And Painwheel struggled just to stay awake. Had she the ability, she would lean her reclining chair back and nap the morning – or perhaps the entire day – away. Her parasites weren't even content to afford her a good night's sleep.
Maybe if she could just rest her eyes. She watched drowsily as the empty lab dissolved behind her puffy eyelids.
A little more time to sleep is all I ask.
Her eyes opened, then started closing again. Lab still empty.
Rest for my weary body, that I might have respite from the pain.
Another opening. Still nothing. Closing them again.
That I might forget my troubles.
She opened them one last time.
“Hi Painy!” Pinkie Pie said, face mere centimeters away.
“DAH!” Painwheel squealed, pressing against the chair. In the heat of the moment, her muscles tightened, firing half a dozen spikes from her chest, legs, and arms.
“Whee!” Pinkie Pie exclaimed, backflipping away from the jutting, impudent needles. “You're like a porcupine jack-in-the-box, you know that Painy?” She chortled happily.
“Buh? Fuh...Fuck you!” Painwheel yelled, stilled braced against the chair. Where the hell did the pink pony come from? Her body tried to relax, and the spikes on display slid back into her body. “Grah! Hrgh! Fuck!” she grunted and moaned, her lethal internal armaments settling back inside. She could still feel the stings where they shot out, and the unscratchable itch as they sealed themselves closed. The human gasped and huffed, sinking into her padded prison. “...come...on...why did it...huff...have to be you?”
“Uh, because everypony else had a turn to spend time with you, and I didn't?” Pinkie said, smiling. She leaned in close. “Plus, I need you to help me plan your party, Painy.”
“What? Party? What party?” Painwheel asked, aghast. She frowned. “And stop calling me 'Painy'.”
Pinkie Pie's eyes bugged out, face contorting into one of horror. “Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry! I should have realized!”
“...oh, okay...” Painwheel said. “So long as you underst-”
“I shouldn't have been calling you Painy, Painy,” Pinkie said. Her sad, contrite frown morphed into an elated smile. “I should have called you 'Wheelie'!” To illustrate her point, the pink earth pony ran several steps to the side and tumbled, cartwheeling around Painwheel's chair. “Woopa!”
“...” Painwheel speechlessly left her mouth agape. After a moment, she slouched in her seat, crumbling like a ragdoll. “I give up.”
“Cool!” Pinkie said, settling beside Painwheel. “That'll make this easier. So for your party, I'm thinking pinwheels. Thousands of them! And it'll be outside, where...”
“...wait, what?” Painwheel said, groggily. What a blessed mercy would it be to nod off, abandoning all the insanity of the world – of all worlds – to its/their own devices. “You didn't answer my question. What party?”
“Why, your much delayed Welcome-To-Ponyville-Sorry-For-Nearly-Suffocating-You Party, of course!” Pinkie Pie said, matter-of-factly. “I mean, you've been here for days, Wheelie. Days! And you still haven't had a party!” She shook her head. “I blame myself really. There were so many parties to plan and so much stuff to do, I just haven't had the time. Oh my, I might be losing my touch! Do you think I've been losing my touch?”
“I-I...I don't...”
“Doesn't matter,” the pony said, waving a hoof. “If I've been off my game, I'll just have to jump back on it and make it give me a piggy back ride. And in order to do that, I'll be throwing you that party. But Rarity said I probably shouldn't make it a surprise party, and Fluttershy agreed. They said you're wound up like a spring, and 'need to be acclimated slowly to your new life'.” This quote was accompanied by an upturned chin and a shift into a refined accent. “Fluttershy almost insinuated you shouldn't even have a party, but I know she didn't actually mean that. I know she didn't, because that would be impossible. Everyone loves a party!”
“But I don't want a party,” Painwheel whined.
Pinkie Pie paused. Painwheel could almost hear the gears in the pony's head seize. “...you...you don't like parties?”
Curious. A sudden, inexplicable dread washed over Painwheel. As if she found herself wandered into a minefield. Painwheel was talking to a hopping-mad party pony, for whom having fun and celebrating ranked as gospel. Painwheel only interacted with the pony a few times before, and could gather that much. The human needed to tread lightly. “...I...I mean...” she said. She sighed, “Look, it's not that I don't like parties. I'm just...I'm really tired. I don't feel up to any kind of celebrating.”
A true enough summation. Painwheel didn't feel up to celebration. She didn't feel up to much of anything. Activity meant movement, and movement disturbed the Gae Bolga. Even settled, they caused a dull ache across her body, but that she could at least bear. She could bear it much better if she could just sleep. Yes, sleep was good.
Unfortunately the pink pony seemed to bounce back to energetic with ease. “Okay, I understand,” Pinkie Pie said. “If you aren't feeling up for a party, there's not a lot we can do.”
Painwheel sighed in relief. Maybe now she could convince the pony to kindly leave...
“We'll just have to postpone it 'til you're feeling better!” Pinkie cheered, hopping up and down.
Annoying. Painwheel gripped the arm of the chair, wincing as the effort sent parasite pain up through her shoulder. She forced herself to relax, if for no other reason than to stifle sensation. “Okay, but there's another reason why I shouldn't have a party.”
“Really? What's that?” Pinkie said, tilting her head curiously to one side.
“No one would ever come.”
“Nonsense Wheelie!” Pinkie said, hopping over to sit beside the human. She commenced patting Painwheel's shoulder, inadvertently inducing incredible agony by smacking against the girl's shoulder “nails”. The pony hardly noticed the human hissing. “Everyone loves a party. My friends and I will be there, as will an entire throng of ponies.”
“Ssshh...but...I'm the monster who terrorized the town,” Painwheel hissed through clenched teeth. “No one would go to a party held in that kind of thing's honor.”
“You underestimate the ponies of Ponyville,” Pinkie said, self-assuredly. “You underestimate both their love for parties, and their ability to let bygones be bygones. I'm certain most of them have outright forgotten about that little incident.”
“We demand that the monster in this library be removed immediately! We won't tolerate it in our town any longer!”
Two royal guards stood resolute against a rather sizable mob of ponies. Their rich cacophony of grunts, coughs, stamping feet, and calls of agreement filled the streets surrounding the library. All told, maybe a dozen or two mares and stallions assembled.
One of the guards spoke, clearly and firmly, “I'm sorry sir, but I'm going to have to ask you and the rest of these townsponies to disperse.”
“We will not disperse,” Goose Down said, earning shouts of approval from behind him. “We demand access to the library and to that monster.”
“We can't allow that, sir. We have orders from Princess Celestia that, until further notice, only those approved by Princess Sparkle may enter the premises.”
“That's bull pie!” came a shout from within the crowd.
“Stop stealing our dead!”
“Won't somepony think of the children?!”
Goose Down stepped closer to the guards. “You two don't have the ability to stop us. Even I couldn't stop them if I wanted to. We're getting in there, no matter what your orders are,” he said.
“And then what?”
Heads turned in the direction of the new voice, one flying just over them. Many gasped as Princess Twilight Sparkle touched down. “What the heck is going on here?”
“Well look who decided to show up,” Goose Down said, directing his attention towards the alicorn. “Tell your guards to move out of the way. We're here for the monster.”
“You're here for her? Why?” Twilight asked, looking around at the incensed throng. She could barely hear over the noisome din.
“There's a monster in our midst, Princess,” Goose said, emphasizing Twilight's royal title with more than a little contempt. “Everypony here lives in fear that it's going to bust out and go on another rampage, this time with innocent ponies dying. We've had it up to here with that. So you're going to let us in there.” A chorus of nods and affirmative calls followed.
And when it all died – or as much as it ever could – Twilight asked, “And then what?”
“What?” Goose Down said, confused.
“Let's say I dismiss the guards and let you all trample through my house, what then?” Twilight said, cocking an eyebrow. “What's your ultimate gameplan?”
“Well, um...we're going to...end it...” Goose said, struggling for the words.
“End it? And what exactly does that entail?” Twilight asked. “Are you going to beat her up? Drag her outside the Ponyville city limits? Chuck her into the Everfree, and let the forest sort it out? Are you going to kill her? Murder Carol in cold blood?”
Goose Down looked around to his compatriots. The lot of them looked much more unsure than they were a minute ago. “I uh...it doesn't matter,” he said finally. “What matters is that it's a monster and needs to-”
“CAROL IS NOT A MONSTER!” Twilight shrieked. The outburst caused the crowd to flinch, including Goose. She huffed hard. Little beads of sweat formed on her brow. “You keep calling her an 'it', a monster. She's not a monster! She's fifteen year old girl! She's not one of those nameless animals that live in the Everfree forest; she's a little girl with hopes and dreams and a mom and dad of her own, and a bucking name! She's Carol, and she's Painwheel, and she's a sick, sad innocent alone and in pain!”
She turned on the crowd, glaring at them. She saw most of them waver under the attention. “What are any of you doing here? Is...is that a pitchfork? It is!” In the back of the crowd, a raised farm implement shot down to the ground fearfully. “You are a literal, real-life pitchfork-wielding angry mob! Do you have any idea how horrible that is? Is this what Ponyville has been reduced to? Angry mobs coming to break down the doors of someone's home, just to get after a possible threat that's already been contained? What is wrong with you?! You should all be ashamed of yourselves!” She turned on their ringleader, Goose Down. “And you!”
“M-me?” Goose said, trembling.
“Do you have any idea how close you were to getting all of these ponies killed?”
“W-what?!”
“Carol is contained,” Twilight said. “We're trying to get her better because she's sick and in pain and traumatized. But you have one thing right: she's still a killing machine. And until me and my friends and Princess Celestia can help her heal, she's still dangerous. Stomping in there and trying to throttle her – or whatever you were probably going to end up doing by ear because you had no plan – would be like putting your hoof through a hornets nest. Made of rotary saws and sharp spikes. Carol's in such a delicate stage, you could have set her off and caused the disaster you're so afraid of! Did it ever occur to you that picking a fight with the 'monster' you fear would end badly for you?”
She hardly gave Goose Down a moment to sputter in protest before turning back to the crowd. “Everypony go home. I won't let you hurt my guest. She's under my protection! So says Twilight Sparkle, Princess of Friendship! Go on, scatter!”
One by one, the ponies did just that. And there was much mumbling and gnashing of teeth, and faces in varying degrees of disappointment, resentment, and shame. Before long, only Goose Down remained, quaking on his hooves.
Under the princess' glare, Goose scowled. “Fine...I'll leave,” he said, beginning his trek away. “But don't think I'm just going to let this matter go. I'll take this up with Mayor Mare.”
“Oh yeah, you do that,” Twilight said, a note of incredulity and smugness. “See how well you can go over my head by appealing to someone whose authority is so much less than mine. Or who already agreed to do everything Princess Celestia and I told her to. Good luck with that.”
“And while Wheelie wasn't too keen on any of the choices, I got her pegged for-”
“Yes, that's very nice, Pinkie Pie,” Twilight said, watching her pink friend ascend the stairs to leave. “I look forward to the party.” For what it would be worth, anyway. She just succeeded in alienating a sizable chunk of the potential party guests. But at least Painwheel was safe.
Too bad said human still refused to look at her.
Twilight sighed. She couldn't expect drastic change so soon. Couldn't expect to be forgiven so easily. And Twilight accepted that. She was prepared to accept that as long as it took to reach the girl, to help her. To save her. If it meant that, Twilight could accept her well-deserved scorn.
She didn't expect to hear the human speak out to her as she tried to walk away. “Twilight.”
The alicorn turned to face her “guest”. “Yes?”
“I heard your speech,” the human said, still facing sideways.
“Oh, you did?” Twilight said, taken aback. “It was more of a rant than anything. It wasn't all that special.”
“You called me Carol,” Painwheel said.
“...yes, I did,” Twilight said. “It's your name, so I-”
“Don't call me that,” Painwheel said sternly. From the side, her eyes narrowed.
“...oh...I'm sorry,” said Twilight, frowning, ears folding against her head. “I guess I have no right to call you that.”
“No, you don't get it. You still don't.”
The human surprised the alicorn by, for the first time in days, turning her head around and facing Twilight. The pony met a forceful, resolute, sad glare, eyes their disturbing pattern of red-in-black.
The fashionista levitated a steamy plate of roasted vegetables to the table. Sitting at the table was a still bound human, who ogled her meal with a mixture of hungry anticipation and weariness.
Rarity smiled. “Now you may be wondering why I bothered to haul – or had Spike haul – that table all the way down here, since you cannot eat by yourself,” she said. She ambled forward, standing to the side.
“To torment me?” Painwheel droned, slowly turning her head to look at the unicorn.
Rarity shook her head. “Oh goodness no, Painwheel,” she said, beautifully groomed mane whipping with the motion. “Quite the opposite. I knew you were just dying, trussed up like you are. So I had Twilight teach me how to cast the binding spell. And not just the binding part...” Her horn shone resplendently, the glowing aura wrapping it. She bent her head down, touching the leftmost manacle holding Painwheel's arm down.
A brilliant flash, and the ethereal chains surrounding the manacles shattered. Painwheel gasped, raising her arm tentatively. She shook it, wincing as her flesh quivered and her joints popped. Despite the visible discomfort, Painwheel stared in wonder at her own appendage.
“...I can also do the unbinding!” Rarity boasted gleefully. She clapped her forehooves. “Enough of having others feed you. Nothing does better for one's sense of self-worth like being able to do things for oneself.” She proceeded to unbind the chains on Painwheel's other wrist, and on the metal collar around her neck. The fashionista proudly watched as the human girl bent and stretched. The unicorn wiped her brow. Casting such complex, powerful enchantments was hard work. No envy possessed she for those who did thus for a living. “Now then, we'll get to-”
Painwheel hissed. “Uggh!” She doubled over, hugging her sides.
“Painwheel!” Rarity exclaimed, raising a hoof. Nonetheless, she was hesitant to reach out and touch the poor thing. Just because the girl knew not to purposefully stab black parasitic needles from her skin didn't mean she wouldn't still do it accidentally. The image of Rainbow Dash receiving one, left whimpering and bloody, remained fresh in Rarity's mind. “Painwheel, are you alright?”
“Ugh...I'm...I'm f-fine,” Painwheel stammered, forcing herself back into an upright sitting position. The unicorn hadn't noticed before, but black bags ran under the human's eyes. Rarity hadn't noticed because Painwheel already had prominent black sclera framing her red eyes. Was she getting enough sleep? Was she like that the last time they met?
“...if you say so...” Rarity breathed, turning her attention back to the food. “Well, it's not going to get any warmer.” A warm smile was in order, along with a dramatic gesture towards the plate. “As they say, dig in!”
Painwheel hesitated, staring at the plate. Slowly, she raised her hands, hovering them over the silver utensils. Fingers shook. Rarity could only wonder whether all human hands were so unsteady. Painwheel's face contorted, uncertain. Finally, she picked at the knife and fork. The knife came to her easily enough, but she seemed not to squeeze her digits correctly around the fork, and it only rose slightly before slipping out. The fork clattered on the table.
“Ah!” Painwheel said, surprised. Shakily, she tried again, gaining only slightly more purchase. But again, the rebellious fork fell from her fingers. The unicorn looked at them; their tips had the lightest sheen. A definite disadvantage of owning hands: they were fine manipulators that sometimes became too slick with perspiration. “Kch,” Painwheel grunted, frowning. With perhaps more force than intended, the human slammed her hand, palm down, over the stem of the fork. Her face twitched, one eye shutting. Still too resolute, Painwheel wrapped her entire fist around the utensil, lifting it triumphantly.
Success, of a sort. Rarity had a bad feeling about this.
If merely grasping her tools proved so challenging, Painwheel saw similar trouble wielding them. The silver gleamed in the light. It created the effect of an active motor made from polished chrome in the human's shaky grip. Setting sights on a particular carrot, Painwheel brought fork prongs down at the plate.
The fork missed entirely.
“Hrmm...” Painwheel mumbled, raising the fork again. A second attempt had the prongs brush up against the root, rolling it away instead of piercing its bright orange flesh. “Hrmm!” Painwheel stabbed down three or four times, rolling the vegetable around the plate before finally spearing it. Painwheel exhaled proudly, bringing the knife down to slice the root into pieces.
The whine of metal slicing over china sent the unicorn's ears twitching. “Careful dear,” Rarity said. “Do try to preserve Twilight's-”
“I know what I'm doing!” Painwheel said, not taking her eyes off the plate. She raised a piece of carrot to her mouth, a line of saliva connecting her upper and lower jaw. She rotated her wrist to direct the food in...and cringed as her lips rapped around it. “Mrrr!” Painwheel grunted, contorting in pain. She grimaced, pausing before removing the prongs of the fork and chewing, swallowing. “Gah!” she gasped, looking peevishly at the plate, then to her wrist.
“...if it's causing you this much discomfort,” Rarity said, sheepishly, “I can always-”
“No,” Painwheel said, shaking her head. “I can do it.”
“But...but it seems so alien to you.”
Painwheel's eyes opened with amazement. Then she scowled. “Well it's not, okay?” Painwheel shot back, turning to look Rarity in the eyes. Furrowed brows belied a willful irritation. “I'm not some savage, Rarity! I can do it myself!” She looked back at the plate and began cutting anew.
Rarity watched the human eat. Watched her struggle with trembling hands, imprecisely spearing veggies and hacking them into manageable bites. Each bite larger, more malformed than the last. Each grunt louder, each knife stroke more intense. And all the while, the movements hinted at a familiar, yet unpracticed, understanding. Every so often, Painwheel would find herself leaning too far over the plate, and she'd right herself.
It was during one of these that she decided to tackle the peas. She slide the fork under the pile, carefully lifting straight up. Keeping it as level, as steady, as she could. More than a few peas fell back to the plate, but Painwheel seemed unconcerned. In fact, she wobbled the utensil, forcing a few more peas off either side. Culling the precarious chaff from the stable wheat, as it were. Painwheel gulped, frowning.
She pulled back, but did so too quickly. Her unsteady arm tilted the fork too much, and she watched in horror as a cascade of peas fell to her lap. “Ah!” she exclaimed, witnessing them drop. “Shit. Shit!” An eyebrow trembled.
“It's okay, dear! It's just a few peas!” Rarity cooed, trying to sooth her charge. She breathed in and out, putting on a smile. “Now just try again, and you'll-”
“Shut up!” Painwheel snapped at the pony. She gripped her silverware hard. With a fist so balled, she pounded the table, causing the entire assemblage to clatter and Rarity to jump. “I can do this! Stop...” She paused, shutting her eyes and pursing her lips, searching for the words. “...backseat...eating!” She paused again, angrily ogling the pony, mouth opening a fraction. If she'd intended to say anything more, she abandoned the task and turned back to her plate.
With effort – and a steadily rising fury – Painwheel stabbed and sliced her way through the food. In time, she opted to just stab through the peas three or four at a time. This seemed serviceable enough, but grew too time consuming. With a huff, Painwheel abandoned that preoccupation entirely, focusing her attacks on the larger vegetables.
Two or three attempts to spear a single carrot stymied the human, making her scowl. Browning teeth appeared behind parted lips. With one desperate motion, Painwheel slammed her knife sideways across the root, holding it down as she impaled it on her fork.
Rarity almost thought Painwheel looked satisfied as she cast aside the knife and simply lifted almost a whole carrot into her waiting maw. Her cheeks bulged wildly, leaving her to happily chew the root into smaller pieces. Eventually, she swallowed hard, exhaling when she was done.
It was a hard-fought battle, Rarity supposed. Carrots were notorious opponents, cylindrical at their worst. The unicorn abstained from hoof-clapping, if only not to come off as condescending. She was still happy for the human, though.
The human seemed happy with herself, beads of sweat rolling down her face. She wiped some away with the back of her hand, the skin brushing over her scars. Smacking her lips together, Painwheel extended her free hand towards the nearby glass of water.
Her aim was off, and her thrust too strong besides. Instead of grasping the glass, Painwheel knocked her right wrist manacle into it. The force overcame the object's resting inertia, toppling it. Water spilled all over the table, soaking the linen tablecloth, and over the plate which still had choice bits of vegetable on it.
Rarity flinched away, feeling a rogue drop of water hit her face. She stared at the mess a second, then looked to Painwheel.
The human gaped in shock, mouth hung open. Her left hand lost purchase of the utensil, and it fell to the table with a loud clatter. This seemed like the breaking point, Painwheel's astounded bearing morphing into one of rage. “AAAAAHHH!!!” she screamed, bringing her arm across and sweeping everything off the table. Silver, glass, and fine china crashed explosively to the ground, the plate obviously, audibly shattering on impact. “AAAAAHHH!!!”
Rarity fearfully stepped back, mind trying to process the outburst. It was too slow, with the distraught Painwheel bending low over the table, slamming her hands and face against the surface. She clenched the linen in her hands, pressing herself down as hard as she could. “Aaah! Aaaahhh!” she wailed, her back arching painfully, unable to rest because the base of her spine was held in place by a thick coil of magical chains around the back of her chair. If she was in enormous pain – likely enough Rarity guessed – Painwheel seemed intent on riding the wave, screaming and sobbing into the soaked cloth and wood, body trembling violently.
“...P-P...Painwheel...sweetie...” Rarity stammered, second guessing whether to step over and touch the human. Odds were the living weapon would lash out, and for all her occasional bouts of bravery Rarity simply couldn't bring herself to approach. “...Painwheel?”
“I COULD DO IT!”
Rarity jumped back. “...d-do it? Painwheel, calm down. Everything's going to be fine.”
“NO IT'S NOT!” Painwheel screeched, her voice popping. Her grip on the linen strengthened, drawing it closer around her. “No it's not! It's not going to be fine!” Her eyes were shut hard, moisture forming at their edges.
The white unicorn frowned. Was there really nothing she could do?
Strands of brown hair fell around Painwheel's face. Hands released the cloth, instead wrapping around her head as she shook it wildly. “I could do it!” she sobbed, a stream of salty tears running down her face. “I used to be able to do it! I was a proper lady and everything! I could do it!” She wept, settling into a pattern of harsh head shakes and sobs.
Finally, Rarity's fear ceded to her concern. Gingerly, the pony walked over and placed her hooves on the human's back, mindful of the metal connector trailing off behind the chair. To her relief, the knots in the girl's back loosened. Did not release deadly spikes. So she just stood there, patting her charge. “Shoosh...I'm here...I'm right here, dearie...”
“...I...I-I could d-do it...” Painwheel choked, clutching her hands over her face. Another sob, another full-body tremble. “...I could do it...”
Twilight Sparkle stared into the grave. The hole was empty, with no sign there was ever a body or coffin inside. Just the hole, and a proportionate mound of dirt beside it.
“You're sure you didn't hear anything the other night?” she said, cocking an eyebrow.
“Sure as sure, Princess,” said the groundskeeper, an aged, gruff earth pony with an amazing beard. “I was sleeping about a quarter mile over yonder, in my little shack, and I say I didn't hear a thing. It's what I done told the police when they came in.”
“And no hoofprints? Or a trail made by the wheels of a cart or from the coffins being dragged away?”
“Nope, nothing like that. It's as you see here. Bunch of graves, dug up, coffins missing.” The groundskeeper scratched behind his ear, supporting himself on a shovel planted in the ground.
Twilight eyed that shovel. “...I hate to ask, but...”
“I couldn't have dug up all these graves myself in one night, if that's what you're on about,” said the groundskeeper, seemingly not offended. “One grave, sure. I could dig up one grave in a night, cart off a coffin. Two if I weren't trying to be discreet. But a dozen or so? Naw, that ain't me. My cutie mark might be for digging graves...” He gestured to his flank, adorned by a mound of dirt, a spade stuck in it, and a poppy* flower growing out of it. “...but even I'm not that good...maybe as a younger stallion, I could do more, but not this much, and definitely not now.”
“...I see,” Twilight said, looking back at the open grave. Her gaze drifted around her, with similar mounds of grave soil standing vigil over gaping holes and their stone monuments. “I think it's safe to rule out a group of graverobbers. Sufficient numbers might be able to do the work, and carry away the coffins. But while they wouldn't leave dragging or cart trails, the ground would be riddled with obvious hoofprints. Moreover, one doesn't get that many ponies together and not attract a lot of attention.” The Princess of Friendship sighed. “What's your opinion?”
“Mine?” asked the groundskeeper, surprised. He rested his chin on the butt end of the shovel, humming in contemplation. A hoof stroked his impressive facial hair. “...hmm...well, I'm just a digger. Don't have experience with magic or fantastic beasties or whatever like you do, your highness. But if I were to guess...I'd say it was someone or something really, really powerful. Capable of treading on the earth without bearing down upon it. Able to move it with ease, and quickly. Were I a bettin' stallion, I'd put my bits on it being a Koldun...or maybe that Discord fella.”
“...maybe,” Twilight said, pondering it. “Thanks for your help, sir.” She shook hooves with the groundskeeper, then went on her way.
If Discord was responsible, it could simply mean he was planning some elaborate, morbid prank. Either way, she would need to ask him the next time they met. If not...then Twilight almost hoped it WAS just a Koldun. One simply pony spoiling the earth or causing mischief was bad, but it could be worse.
It could very well be a Skullgirl.
“So Ah heard from Fluttershy you like flowers.”
Applejack trotted over, stopping beside the human. She had a saddlebag, which she rifled through. Evidently the farmer found what she was looking for, pulling a trio of pink flowers out. They sat in her mouth, and she found a small vase, which she filled with water. It was a little work, but the pony managed to plant them in the vase, setting it on a table nearby where the human could see. “So,” said Applejack, “do you like them?”
“...um...sure, I guess,” Painwheel said, heavy bags under her eyes. Her voice was fairly weak. She stared at the flowers. “They're beautiful enough but...”
“But what?” Applejack asked.
“They're Geraniums.”
“Ah'll take your word for it, darlin',” Applejack said. She observed the flowers, the gears in her head slowly turning. “Wait, did Ah mess up? Ah didn't jus' propose marriage or anythin', did Ah?”
“No, you didn't,” Painwheel said, blinking rapidly. Tired as she was, her vision was at times blurry. She could use some coffee. Something to pep her up. Honestly, anything to make her feel better would be nice. “You'd need a Spider Flower for that.”
“So what the hay does a Geranium mean?”
“It means folly,” Painwheel said simply. “In essence, you just called me stupid.”
“D'oh!” Applejack exclaimed, hitting herself in the head. “Ah'm sorry, Painwheel. You know Ah didn't mean it like that. Ah'm not too bright when it comes to girly things.” She sat down on her haunches, eyes downcast. “Ah mean, Ah'm just a apple-buckin' farmer, Ah don't know this stuff.” She looked up at the human. “Where'd you learn all about what flowers mean?”
“Oh, that explains it,” Applejack said, smiling. “Me? My mama and pop died when Ah was real little, just after Applebloom was born. Accident on the farm.”
“I'm sorry,” Painwheel said.
“Nah, it's alright,” Applejack said. “It were years an' years ago, now. But since they weren't around, my brother, Big Macintosh, and Granny Smith had to raise me and Applebloom. And the thing about my Granny is she's right knowledgeable about apples – she's from a long line of Apple family buckers – but she's not what you might call all that feminine. Plus, she's old now, and couldn't proper tell ya stuff about romance or fashion or flowers, 'cause she can't rightly remember. It was the vital stuff she drilled inta us kids – buckin' apples and runnin' the farm.”
After a moment of silence, Painwheel realized the farmpony wanted her to reciprocate. Applejack sat there, smiling expectantly. Painwheel sighed. “Back home, my mom had this great big garden. She was always out there, planting and tending to her flowers. Some of my earliest memories as a kid were of her plopping me on the grass, between her legs. And she would point to all the flowers, and teach me their names.” The human imagined the scene, hazy as it was, and likely a collection of several similar memories.
She smiled. “And when I got older, I started planting with her. She taught me all about the flowers then, in the garden, or in the flower shops, or when we'd visit the botanical garden in the summer. She taught me what they were, when they would grow, and what they all meant. And I wanted to make her proud, so I would listen really hard, and look the things up if I forgot them.
“She even taught me about the flowers that had double meanings, and how they could be used as weapons...”
“Weapons?” Applejack said, surprised. “You can use little petal-ly things to fight? Shoot, the most Ah've done is eat 'em.”
Painwheel chuckled softly. “Not weapons like that,” she said. “I mean social weapons. Because some flowers mean one thing that's positive, and another that's not so much.” She looked over at the vase. “I remember when I was in middle school, I got bullied by some other kids. My mother told me to give them a Geranium, because it meant stupidity. So I did, and my bullies were all confused and backed off because they thought I was weird. When I got home, I told my mother about it, and we had a great laugh.” Painwheel grinned wide. Pretty wide, actually. Often was she told her mouth was wider than normal people. In fact, it was one of the reasons other kids bullied her.
“Ha ha!” Applejack laughed, slapping her knee. “Oh gosh, Ah gotta try that on Rainbow Dash! It'll be so funny!” She laughed for several seconds, finally wiping a tear from her eyes. “...he he...so...ha...what's a 'botanical garden', anyway?”
“Oh, it's this wonderful place,” Painwheel said. “It's a huge garden with thousands of plant species. My mother and father and I would visit every year, in the early summer when all the flowers were in full bloom.” She kept on grinning. “We'd spend the entire day there, just looking at the plants. All the flowers, and mom would quiz me on their names and meanings. And dad would stand in front of the little signs in front of them so I couldn't cheat.
“And we'd eat lunch at this great little cafe they had, run by this nice Canine-Man couple.” Painwheel swallowed. “We'd watch the sunset from this wonderful landing, overlooking a small pond. And when it was over, dad would carry me on his shoulders as we left...” She sniffed, her chest trembling. “...and...and by the time...by the time I got home I was already asleep, and dad would tuck me into bed...gasp...and I'd wake up with a vase full of fresh flowers we'd picked up the day before...and it was always the ones I said I l-liked when we were there...”
“Painwheel...” Applejack said, ears sagging.
“...and then my mom and I...we would spend the morning planting all the stuff she picked out...and dad would come out and we'd show off all the work we'd done...and I...and I...” Tears rolled down the human's face. “And I just...I just...” She started weeping. “I just miss them so much!” she bawled, shutting her eyes and tilting her head up towards the ceiling. “Why?!”
Applejack walked over, gingerly placing a hoof on the poor girl's shoulder. “Painwheel...Painwheel Ah'm sorry.” She shook the girl until she looked the farmer in the eyes. “Ah didn't mean...if Ah done dredged up your sorrow, Ah'm sorry...but...you mind telling me what happened to 'em?”
“...sniff...hmm?” Painwheel said, tears still running down her face. “What?”
“Did...did you lose 'em?” Applejack asked, the most profound expression of empathy the human had ever seen. She understood, or thought she did.
Painwheel shook her head. “No. No, they didn't die.”
“Then things ain't so bad!” Applejack said, trying to smile for the girl. “Your mama and papa are still around...jus' not around here...” Applejack winced, regretting her poor choice of words. “Anyway, don't you worry. If anypony could find a way to send you back home to your folks, it's Twilight...Ah know you don't like her much, sugarcube, but she's working for you.” She tilted her chin up, confident like a honey badger. “Ah'm sure they miss you as much as you miss them. Hear me?”
“But...but they don't miss me!” Painwheel exclaimed, new tears coming out. “They don't want me back!”
“Hogwash!” Applejack said. “How could any pair of loving parents like yours not want their daughter back?”
“Because I already saw them right before I came here!” Painwheel sobbed, shaking her head. “When I got out of the lab...when I finally became free...I-I went home. And they were there.” Painwheel gulped loudly. “But they didn't see me! They didn't see their little girl! All they saw...all they saw was...a monster!”
She couldn't see anymore through the tears, but she almost felt the farmer's horrified reaction. The pressure on her shoulder intensified. “They didn't see Carol! They saw Painwheel, the monster! And they were afraid, and told me to leave!” Painwheel cried out, feeling the farmpony's forelegs wrap around her in an embrace. “They yelled at me to go...that I was a monster...and...and I...I want my mommy and daddy! Aaaahhh!”
Painwheel cried. Painwheel cried for what felt like hours, inside the embrace of a farmer who at least could say her parents never stopped loving her. Painwheel wept. Wept and cried out for her parents.
The two girls tread across sand, their uniform shoes leaving uniform footprints. Waves surged and receded to their left, a warm sunset beyond the sea's horizon.
Filia smiled weakly, brushing a lock of golden hair behind her ear. “...sure, Carol...it's no problem...” She seemed uneasy.
“Oh, was this a bad time?” Carol said, gasping. She frowned, lowering her head, eyes facing the ground. “...you don't need to keep doing this for me, if you don't want...I know that an important girl like you doesn't need to hang out with someone like me...”
“Carol, don't say that...” Filia said. She placed a hand on Carol's shoulder. “...I couldn't ask for a better, truer friend...”
“...you mean that?” Carol asked, looking up at Filia Medici – beloved progeny of the Medici family. “I'm not too much of a bother?”
“Of course you aren't. You're my best friend, don't let anyone tell you different.” Filia gave the other girl's shoulder a firm squeeze, let let it drop.
“...thank you...” Carol said, smiling. She looked back towards the expanse of empty beach ahead, taking in the color of the sunset.
Almost imperceptibly, Filia lagged behind a few steps. Her voice was low and strained, “...which is why...this is the hardest thing I've ever done...”
“...huh?” Carol said, puzzled, stopping in her tracks. “What are you talking ab-”
“I'm sorry, Carol.”
Pale, slender arms wrapped around Carol. Before she could think to scream, one hand clasped a plastic breathing mask over her mouth and nose. “Mmm!”
“I'm sorry!”
Carol tried to struggle out of the hold, but it was entirely useless. A rush of gas flowed into the mask, tickling her face. Without thinking, the girl inhaled. The effect was immediate, her vision starting to swim, her muscles relaxing. In a second, she couldn't even keep her legs beneath her. As they gave out, the strong arms hugged tighter, keeping her upright.
“That's it...nothing to worry about...” said a new voice, that of a grown woman. It was deeper, and perhaps even a bit sultry. Not that Carol knew what that really meant, nor was in any position to care. Dark spots started forming before her eyes. “...I'll take good care of you...I promise...” The woman's voice betrayed the slightest hint of sorrowful resignation.
Somewhere behind, Filia's voice was significantly more sorrowful. “I'm...so sorry.”
Present Day
Painwheel kept her eyes closed. Maybe if she simply willed herself to, she could go back to sleep. To capture by force of will alone that rest so denied her the last few days.
Just think of a black wall, she told herself. Think of a black wall, and nothing else. A plain, unremarkable, pitch-black wall. And hope no one...
“Good morning, Painwheel!”
So much for that. Painwheel opened her eyes. “...good morning, Fluttershy...” Not that there was anything good about the morning in particular. By her internal clock's (admittedly warped) reckoning, it shouldn't even be morning. It should be nighttime, when Painwheel was supposed to be asleep. She sighed.
The pegasus flapped down from the basement overhang, struggling with an added weight in her forelimbs. It was a vase. A vase with more flowers. “I hope you don't mind...oof...” Fluttershy said, face contorted from the strain. Finally she landed near to Painwheel's chair, lifting the vase with additional effort. “...but...oh my...I brought you some flowers, since I know how much you like them.” She ambled over to the side table and planted the vase on it nest to Applejack's geraniums. “Hoo! And since Applejack told me she got you some, I thought I'd bring my own. I picked them from a field near my cottage.”
Red human eyes drifted toward the vase. “Zinnias*...” she muttered. How ironic. No, not ironic, she remembered. She used to have a sixth grade English teacher who drilled into his students' heads every day on the use of words in the right, descriptive contexts. Coincidence was not irony. Couldn't forget that. “...thank you...”
“What are friends for?” Fluttershy said softly, smiling.
“...indeed...” Painwheel said, averting her eyes. “...what are they for?”
Fluttershy frowned. “...did I do something wrong? I'm sorry.”
“Ugh,” groaned Painwheel, clamping her eyes shut, “stop doing that. When you do that...nevermind...”
“What am I doing?” said the pegasus, yellow as a sunflower. “I can stop it if you want.”
Painwheel paused. The pony really didn't sound too much like...her. She sounded more like Painwheel...like Carol. “No, it's nothing,” she said, “forget I said anything.”
“No really, I can stop whatever it is that's bothering you.” Fluttershy looked mildly distraught. “What happens when I do that?”
“...it's not you, it's just...” Painwheel sighed. “You remind me...of an old friend...”
“Oh! I do!” said Fluttershy, perking up. “Would you mind telling me about them?” She grew slightly more apprehensive. “I mean, if that's alright with you...” she trailed off, darting her eyes between Painwheel and her hooves.
Painwheel sat still. She sighed again. It was too early for this. “...fine...” A furtive look to the Zinnias. A bouquet of many colors: red, white, yellow, and magenta. “Filia is her name...and she was my best...only friend...”
“...was?” Fluttershy asked.
“Was. I think.” Painwheel frowned. “Let me start over. I met Filia in middle school. She was this rich girl – blond, good-grades, popular. Everything I wasn't. I mean, my grades weren't terrible, I suppose, but Filia was so much more well-read than me, so she always aced her exams.
“She was also a Medici.”
“A Medici?”
“The Medici Family is...kind of a big deal in the Canopy Kingdom. New Meridian especially. Wealthy, influential, powerful. Filia was the daughter of the Medici's boss.”
“Boss?” said a very puzzled Fluttershy. “I thought you said they were a family. Is that what humans call their eldest member, or something?”
“When I say 'Family', I mean that figuratively,” Painwheel said. “The Medicis were an organized crime group. The mob, or one Family of it.”
“Oh. Oh! Oh...” The pegasus' ears fell flat against her head. “Oh...my...”
Painwheel nodded. “Filia was from a powerful family, but in the bad sense. Anyone who was anyone tried to stay on their good side, and Filia was no exception. A lot of kids were super nice to her. She could have anyone be her friend.” Painwheel smiled wistfully. “Yet she befriended me, someone with no friends, no outstanding talents, no charm, and no pedigree. She just came up one day, said I looked lonely, and asked if I wanted to hang out.
“All that stuff, about being from a mob family?” Painwheel asked, raising an eyebrow. “I didn't learn about that until later. I didn't know anything about the organized crime in my country. All I knew was that this rich, popular girl took the time to hang out with me.” She actually laughed; more a chuckle really. “We'd go to movies together. Eat out at fancy cafes. She would paint my nails – magenta, my favorite color. I'd show her the flowers in the garden, or the ones that grew on the side of the road. She'd give me all these books she liked, telling me to read them. And she had a lot of books; the benefit of coming from such a rich family.
“And sometimes...we'd walk along the beach at sunset...” Painwheel's smile fell apart, inverting into a frown. She shook her head, dispelling the memory. “And no one ever gave me a hard time for being plain, or for having a big mouth, or for not having the best grades. She was always super nice. And very pretty.” The human beamed with pride. “Yet she hung out with me. I was so lucky...so...lucky...”
“It sounds like you two were great friends,” Fluttershy said, giving her own small grin. “It's like you had a couple of my friends all pushed together into one.” The pony's expression changed to one of concern. “You miss her, don't you? You look so sad.”
A frown. “I...I don't miss her...”
“Why?”
Painwheel didn't answer for a full minute. Thankfully, the pegasus saw how contemplative the human was, and waited patiently. Finally, Painwheel said, “...I don't miss her...because she betrayed me.”
“The nurse that DID THIS TO ME!” Painwheel shouted, squirming in her chair. She watched the pony shift between confusion to comprehension, and then to horror. Painwheel's entire body shook, an effect that induced stinging squirms from her passengers. “I d-don't remember it all that well – that nurse knocked me out or something – but I know that Filia was there and she could have helped me but she didn't! And then I got made into this! I g-got made...into this!” Her voice grew hoarse. It was all she could do not to devolve into a coughing fit.
“I'm sure she would have helped you if she could,” Fluttershy offered tentatively. A small, weak smile appeared on the pony's face.
“No,” Painwheel said, shaking her head. “No, no, no! She didn't try to save me. She apologized for it, remember? She wasn't too weak to stop Valentine; she was in on it! It was her plan!” The human rocked back and forth, straining against her bonds and suffering the inflamed sensation rocking her insides. Tears began forming at the corners of her eyes. “She was my friend! My friend! And she betrayed me! Sold me out to Lab Zero! All of it happened because of her; everything! Everything!”
“Painwheel! Stop!”
“Why, Filia! Why did you do this to me?!” cried the human, tears starting to roll down her scarred visage. “What did you do it for?! Why me?! WHY?!”
“It always hurts! It always hurts, any she's to blame!” Painwheel tried to slam the back of her head against the back of the seat. Unfortunately, it was padded. Fortunately, she was in enough pain already that it didn't matter.
“P-please stop!” Fluttershy whimpered, tears running down her own face. She looked about ready to rush over and seize the human. If not for the ever present threat of Painwheel letting loose and impaling her, she might have.
“And...a-and I can't even hate you!” Painwheel sobbed, head bobbing down. “You helped ruin my life, and I can't even hate you anymore!”
Finally, Fluttershy worked up the courage, sidling over and nuzzling under Painwheel's chin. “There, there, let it all out.” She waited while the human sobbed, pressing into the pony's snout. “It's okay. No need to hurt yourself anymore.”
Painwheel sniffed loudly. “...okay...” Her voice was gravely and weak.
“Now tell me, why can't you hate Filia? Can you tell me that?”
“...b-because...it's because...”
“Yes?”
“Because she can't remember.”
“Huh?” Fluttershy said. “Can't remember what?”
Painwheel shook her head. “Anything. Everything.” She paused, blinking away a pool of tears on her eyelids. “I met her...after I got turned. She was different. Her old blond hair was gone...replaced...by this huge, talking parasite on her head...”
“Gracious!” Fluttershy exclaimed, holding her hooves against her cheeks.
“And when we met, I tried talking to her...but she didn't seem to remember who she was,” Painwheel said. “Like she had amnesia. She seemed to remember me, I think, but when we fought, we ended up getting separated. I don't think she even remembered...what she did.” She heaved, frowning. New tears flowed. “So now I can't even hate her. How can I? The Filia I knew...or thought I knew...was gone!
“And now...all I can think of is how unfair it all is! She betrayed me, and then died! And I'll never know why she did it! Or if she was ever really my friend to begin with!” She shook her head more, lips pursed together. She let the pony beside her continue holding her. “It's not fair! It's not fair! …it's not...fair...”
Painwheel cried. Again.
“Painwheel cried again?”
Fluttershy nodded, looking at her assembled friends. None of them looked any happier than she did.
“Land sakes, that's the third time in so many days!” Applejack said.
“I really don't want to seem insensitive, or anything,” Rarity said, sadly. “I was there for one, after all. But one would think she'd at least take a breather from emotional breakdowns.” She tapped her chin. “Fluttershy, what in Celestia's name did you talk about?”
“We got started talking about friends she might have had. Turns out she had a pretty bad experience there. It was just awful.” Fluttershy proceeded to explain what Painwheel related to her.
At the edge of the table, Twilight Sparkle cringed, rubbing her head. The explanation was a second hand account of something the alicorn already knew intimately. And she couldn't add a single word to the discussion, because she was ordered not to. It was sort of like the time Fluttershy and Rarity both forced her to promise not to tell each other about that Fluttershy fashion modeling business, even though she could solve it in two sentences.
Though, obviously, Painwheel's emotional distress was a thousand times worse.
“How awful!” Rarity said, throwing a foreleg over her face dramatically. “First the business about losing her grasp on etiquette and self-sufficiency, and now betrayal by her only friend!”
“Don't forget the part about her folks drivin' her off, thinkin' she's a monster,” Applejack said. She frowned, taking off her hat. “I almost think I'd rather have my ma and pa stay dead, than hear that from 'em.”
“Sounds kind of like a soap opera to me,” Rainbow Dash mumbled.
“Oh don't be so insensitive, Rainbow Dash,” Rarity exclaimed.
“That's not a very nice thing to say about Painwheel,” Fluttershy said, frowning. “She's been through so much.”
“I know, I know!” Rainbow Dash exclaimed, waving a hoof. “I'm not trying to downplay her problems, okay? I get it. Believe me, I know just a bit about betrayal, and how much it stings.”
“You're just never gonna let that Mare-Do-Well thing go, and you sugercube?” Applejack said.
“Hey, I got tricked for months,” Rainbow said. “With you all dumping on me, making me feel terrible, just because I bragged too much. And then you went and got me believing I was at fault, and deserved what I got!”
“We said we were sorry, Rainbow,” Applejack said. “Can we just let that die? We got bigger problems. Painwheel's problems.”
“You're dang right we have Painwheel problems!” exclaimed Pinkie Pie, jumping up from under the table. She looked around at her startled friends. They hadn't remembered the element of laughter actually being present. Granted it was Sugercube Corner, but still. “I've been giving singing telegram invitations to everypony in Ponyville, yet barely anypony agreed to go to the party!”
“The party?” Dash repeated, eyebrow cocked.
“Wheelie's Party, duh!” Pinkie exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air. Yet not waving them as if she was bereft of concern for the matter. She totally cared about anything party related, and especially if it was thrown in the name of cheering someone up. “I keep getting rejected, often before I finish the first verse of my invitation song. I had to rewrite the song just to avoid mentioning it was Wheelie's party until the end, and I still got rejected big time!” The party pony frowned, ears flat against her head. “And even if I got everypony around to attend, if Wheelie is as bad as it sounds, I don't think even my party is going to help.”
“It does appear our little guest is getting worse by the day,” Rarity said. “I honestly don't know what to do.”
“Relax, guys,” Rainbow Dash said. “Look, she's had plenty of chances to cry, so the way I see it, she's bound to start improving now. Can't get much worse, right?” Rainbow weathered the others' skeptical expressions. “It's going to fine, trust me. It's my turn to visit tomorrow. I'll go in, and keep as far away from the hard, serious topics as possible. Try to cheer her up, you know? Besides, we've been talking her up for two weeks now.” She turned to Twilight. “Look, I know you can't tell us what you learned or else we wouldn't even need to do all this. But come on, Twilight. Just tell me there aren't any more surprise issues bubbling in her skull that I might blunder into. Please?” To punctuate, she pressed her hooves together pleadingly.
Twilight Sparkle considered it a moment. “...given everything we've found out so far, I can't think of any new problems that haven't already made themselves known. Granted, I did get a massive dump of her memories, thoughts, and feelings, so I might have missed something. But I'm drawing a blank.”
“See? Tomorrow will be easy, you'll see,” Rainbow said, shutting her eyes proudly. “I promise, if I can steer the conversation, that she will not cry again before that party.”
“Whaaa!”
“Oh come on!” Rainbow Dash exclaimed, jaw agape. She hovered over the basement floor, watching the human.
Painwheel was sitting in her chair, already weeping openly.
“You've gotta be kidding me! You're already...ugh!” Dash pressed her hoof to her head. She needed to calm down. Painwheel was in serious trouble, and shouting wouldn't make things better. Rainbow Dash flapped over, taking a seat on her haunches beside the sobbing creature. She put on a more sympathetic face. “Okay, okay, calm down. What's the matter?”
“...sniff...Rainbow...D-dash...” Painwheel choked out, facing the pegasus. She opened her eyes, though Dash couldn't be sure at all if the human's eyes were bloodshot, already being red. Then again, Dash thought her blood was black or blue anyway, so what the heck? “...have...hic...have you e-ever...k-k-”
“What? Talk to me, girl, I'm here,” Dash said, her tone softening as much as she could. She really wasn't suited for emotional nurturing. “Have I ever what?”
“...have you ever...k-k...killed someone?”
“What?!” Rainbow yelled, nearly pitching backwards in surprise. “K-killed someone?! No, never! Who do I look like? I've gotten in plenty of fights, but I've never killed. Who does that?”
“...m-me...” choked Painwheel, grimacing more deeply. “I-I did...I killed...I killed a l-lot...”
“D'oh!” Rainbow said, suddenly feeling very, very awkward. “...r-really? Oh cumulus.” This was heavy. Dash now wished she could have had any of the other conversations with Painwheel besides this one.
Painwheel nodded, tears flowing further and flying off with each frantic bob. “It d-didn't occur to me until now...I was so preoccupied with all of the t-things that were wrong with my life...I completely forgot...that I...” The human began shaking in earnest. “That I...that I'm...a mur...murderer...” Eyes clasped closed. A wicked, agonized, teeth-bearing scowl formed. “I'm a murderer! Murderer! Whaaah!”
And the crying started in earnest again. “Oh gosh, oh gosh,” Rainbow said, looking nervously around. “Oh this is bad! Very, very bad!” Definitely the very last conversation she wanted to be having. “Okay, okay...Painwheel, come on buddy.” She stepped over and tried to make direct eye contact with the human. Difficult, since Painwheel seemed not to want to open her puffy eyes. “Come on, girl. Just...just talk to me. We can get through this.” When the human finally looked at her, she continued, “Okay, talk to me. Who did you kill? I promise I'm not gonna get mad, but this is pretty important...yeah, pretty darn important...”
“Sniff...when I was...p-part of the lab...Lab Zero...Brain Drain...hic...sent me out...” Painwheel explained. “...he sent me out...with a mission...to find Lab Eight...and destroy it...sniff...”
“Okay, we're getting somewhere,” Rainbow Dash said, trying to sound more enthusiastic than she was. She even did a sad little laugh, patting Painwheel's chest. It didn't help that she was completely at a loss as to what these labs were or why they were so important. “So what happened?”
“...hic...I...hic...I got the order to...kill everyone I met...” Painwheel explained. She shook her head, seeing the expression on Rainbow's face. “H-he told me to do it! Brain Drain...he made me kill them!”
“Who? Who did you kill? How many?”
“...hic...I don't...hic...know...sniff...ten...twelve people, I think?” Painwheel shook like a leaf when the weather patrol whipped a storm up. “...security personal...scientists...I couldn't help it...Brain Drain was in my head...and it hurt s-so m-much...and I was so...angry!” She shook her head. “I didn't know what was going on. I couldn't stop myself. Didn't even really feel like myself...just a big, sharp, angry ball of pain, with a voice in my head telling me where to go and...and who to k-kill...And they're dead! They're dead because of me! I did it!”
Rainbow Dash really wished she could be Fluttershy right now. “B-but it's not your fault. Like you said, you were brainwashed! Under some jerk's control!”
“But it was me!” Painwheel screamed, new waves of salty liquid pumping out of her eyes. “It's no excuse! Because just after, I shrugged it off! I could fight back against Brain Drain! And I did!” More shaking. “If I was just stronger! If I could have just kept it together! If I could just regain control sooner, none of them would have died! None of them! Whaaaaaah!”
Dash watched the human give into her emotions fully, wailing and gnashing teeth. All the pony could do was sit there, aghast. Useless. Impotent. From the bottom of her heart, she lamented how helpless she was.
Today wasn't a good day. How could things get worse?
Applebloom skipped up the path, stopping in front of the Cutie Mark Crusader club house. Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle followed close behind, the former wheeling her scooter.
Scootaloo glanced to the sky. “If only it wasn't so cloudy,” she commented. “Not to mention, you didn't even get out until the after noon. We barely have time left to crusade.”
“Hey! It was hard enough convincing Applejack to let me out,” Applebloom said, frowning. “Haven't been grounded that long for a while.” Other than school – and Twilight Time, which Applejack seemed more insistent she attend – Applebloom had been confined to the farm. Usually bored. When not bored, forced to attend to Granny Smith's every need.
“I'll say,” Sweetie Belle said, taking the time to right a toppled stack of boxes. “My mom and dad had me grounded for a while, too.” Truth be told, they only cut her grounding off early because they're really busy, as was Rarity, so there would be no one to watch her at home.
“Well, we're all out now,” Scootaloo said. “What are we going to do today? We missed a lot of crusading over the past few weeks...hmm...” Scootaloo tapped her chin. “I might need to consult the list.”
Applebloom and Sweetie Belle looked at each other wearily. “Uh Scoots...do ya really think that's such a good idea?” Applebloom asked.
“Huh?” Scootaloo said, blankly. “What do you mean?”
“What Applebloom means is...” Sweetie Belle paused, biting her lip. “...maybe...we ought to just...hang out?”
“Hang out? What are you two...?” Scootaloo shook her head. “You aren't making any sense. We've got a lot of catching up to do, girls. We lost two weeks after that last time, so we don't have time to just hang out!”
“Scoots, do ya even remember the last thing we did? Ah mean, seriously?”
“...well, yeah...” Scootaloo said, matter-of-factly. “We took the motor-cart out for a test drive...”
“Which we lost control of,” Applebloom added.
“...which we walked away from...” Scootaloo said, indignantly.
“...and then there was the fight...and getting Rainbow Dash treated and everything else...” Scootaloo continued, her resolve starting to falter. She glanced down at the ground.
“Which would'na happened if we hadn't been drivin' an unstable, poorly constructed automobile, recklessly through the town streets,” Applebloom said, eyes narrowed.
“...it wasn't that poorly designed...”
“Scoots!”
“Well it wasn't! Geez!” Scootaloo folded her forelegs. “...it ran at least...”
“An' exploded.”
“Okay, okay! Fine!” Scootaloo exclaimed. She threw her hooves in the air. “What do you want me to say? That our poor judgment, reckless abandon, and youthful fixation of getting our cutie marks almost got not only us three killed, but many other ponies? That our crusade tipped off something close to a...disaster...”
“...yeah, that about covers it,” Sweetie said, genuinely taken aback. “Thanks Scootaloo.”
Scootaloo slumped to the ground, sitting contrite on her haunches. “...wow...” she said, guilt washing over her. “I guess we really messed up, huh?”
“Yeah, we kinda' gathered that when our families – specially Applejack – went and yelled at us for bein' so thickheaded.” Applebloom kicked at the dirt. “Ah been thinkin'...maybe we're goin' about this whole cutie mark business the wrong way. Ya feel me?”
“What do you mean? This way is always how we've done it,” Scootaloo said. “It's what the Cutie Mark Crusaders are all about.”
“Yeah, and haven't ya noticed we're no closer to our cutie marks than when we started?”
“Then we just haven't found our special talents yet, that's all.”
“Or...like Twilight's always saying: our 'sperimental model ain't right. Maybe we ain't getting our cutie marks 'cause we've tried ta get 'em the wrong way.”
Sweetie Belle tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Maybe cutie marks are the kind of thing you don't go looking for.” She smiled, watching her friends turn to her with bewildered expressions. “Maybe we're supposed to let ourselves discover our marks naturally, over the course of just...doing stuff.”
“Doin' stuff?” Applebloom repeated.
“But we've been doing plenty of stuff!” Scootaloo exclaimed. “We've done all kinds of amazing stuff, week after week, for...for...” She screwed up her face, rubbing her temple. “For I don't know how long, now! And all of that didn't help?”
“Maybe it's supposed to be natural-like,” Applebloom mused. “We went outta our way all this time, yet everypony else just kind of stumbled inta theirs. Like Applejack when she came home from Manehatten.”
“Or Rarity when she was looking for stuff to make her dresses better,” Sweetie said.
“...or when Rainbow Dash did the Sonic Rainboom by accident, trying to outfly some racing opponents...a race she only entered because she happened to stumble onto Fluttershy getting bullied...” Scootaloo sat, mulling over the thought. She opened and closed her mouth a number of times. Then she sat up, eyes going wide. “Do you think, by trying to force our cutie marks, we've actually just been delaying them?” Scootaloo gasped in horror. This was a possibility she never considered.
“All Ah know is Ah feel right guilty about now,” Applebloom said, frowning. She sighed, “When Ah asked Applejack to let me come out today, she looked hesitant. An' when she finally said Ah could, she hugged me extra long, an' told me not to do anythin' foolhardy an' half baked. Like Ah always do.” Her ears sagged sadly. “Ah never realized, but how much has Applejack been worried sick about me when Ah'm off crusading with you girls?” She shook her head. “Makes me feel lower 'en a snake in the grass. What is also in a limbo competition.”
“...did we ever do limbo?” Sweetie asked, curious.
“Four months ago,” Scootaloo said, sighing. “I remember because we tried it with a painted metal pole, and the paint wasn't dry yet. Had a white stain on my fur for two weeks.” How sad was it that Scootaloo could easily place it low on the list of most egregious, costly failures?
The three sat in silence for a while then, wallowing in their shared feelings of foolishness.
Finally, Sweetie Belle grew restless. “...so...what do we do now?”
“Ah don't know,” Applebloom said. For a moment she returned to silence, then stood back up. “Ah guess we just...step inside and figure somethin' out. Somethin' that don't involve threats a' bodily harm. What do you think Scoots?”
Scootaloo stared silently. The color was draining from her face.
“Scoots?”
Scootaloo gawked in Applebloom's direction, eyes fixed at a point above the latter's head.
“Scootaloo?” Sweetie asked. “What's wrong?”
“Muh...muh...”
“Mummies? We already tried that,” Applebloom said.
“Muh...muh...muh...”
Applebloom gave her friend a bewildered look. “What are you on about?”
“Monster...” Scootaloo whispered.
“Come again?”
“MONSTER!” Scootaloo shouted, pointing a hoof over Applebloom's head.
Applebloom and Sweetie Belle turned around frantically, then froze. Their eyes too grew wide. Wide with abject terror.
“UUUUUURRREEEEEE!”
The Cutie Mark Crusaders bolted, undead pursuer following not far behind.
“Now darling, doesn't this one look better than your old rags?”
Painwheel beheld the vestments in question. A cotton qipao, brown like creamed coffee, reproduced to the best of the fashionista's ability according to the one Painwheel already wore. Certainly a logical choice; the one-piece article of clothing served well enough. It could also be worn without interfering with the shoulder and thigh “nails”, or with the Buar Drive.
The human grudgingly gave Lab Zero credit: there were far worse choices to dress her in, especially for their beloved berserker. “It looks good,” she said.
“Oh I'm glad you love it!” Rarity said, flashing a stately smile. “Although I must say, this is only a temporary measure. I mean really, it's so simple, so...minimalist. Don't worry though, dear. This little number didn't take me any time at all to put together. But I do have something else, one I'm much more proud of.” She levitated the piece away, hanging on the lip of a bookshelf. Walking to her saddlebags lying on the floor, she rummaged through its contents. “Ah ha! Here it is!” Another article of clothing billowed out of the bag, encased in the unicorn's aura. “What do you think about this one, Painwheel?”
Blink. “...it's wonderful,” Painwheel said, surprised. The second piece was a magenta sundress. The center of the bust was adorned by a floral insignia. Cactus flower* by the look of it. “I love the flower.”
“I knew you would, dear,” Rarity said, brightly. She regarded her creation closely, scrutinizing it. “...are you sure though? I didn't have that much fuchsia fabric left, and not enough to seriously stand out from the rest of the dress. I was so worried the flower design wouldn't pop out.”
“Maybe you could use a green backing,” suggested Painwheel. “It is a cactus flower, after all.”
Rarity gasped. “Oh my! Why didn't I think of that?” She continued to regard her creation, frenetically tapping her chin, immersed in thought. “Green backing...with spikes on it! Like a cactus' thorns!” She frowned, realizing what she said. “Oh...maybe a bit...too...on the nose...I apologize Painwheel, I wasn't thinking, I...”
“It's fine,” Painwheel said, shaking her head. “I'm sure it'll look lovely if you make it.”
“Oh thank you, darling,” Rarity said, wiping sweat from her regal brow. “Anyway, I won't have time to take it back in for an alteration. You've got to be ready by tonight.”
“Tonight?”
“Why, the party dear! Don't you remember?” Rarity dug another coat hanger from the saddlebag and hung the sundress on it. “The one Pinkie Pie is throwing for you. She asked me, since I already had these numbers ready, to fill in for her today while she gallivanted around town, dispersing more invitations.”
“...oh...” Painwheel said, spirits dropping. She frowned. “I suppose there's no way we can call it off, huh?” A hopeful glance was directed towards the unicorn.
Said unicorn shook her head. “Afraid not. Now I know you aren't feeling well,” Rarity said, taking stock of the unsightly bags under the human's eyes. “But Pinkie Pie went to such trouble arranging all this. It simply wouldn't do to spoil all that hard work. Unlady-like, even.” Rarity hung the sundress on the shelf, next to the new qipao, which she levitated off its hanger. “Plus, I can say with more than a little pride that I'd love to see you wear these there. And it doesn't matter if nopony else shows up. It just means we'll have exclusive rights to seeing you in them.”
Painwheel squirmed in her chair uneasily. “Do you...do you think anyone will show up?”
“If I know Pinkie, she'll drag some ponies over if she has to,” Rarity said, smirking. “Now while I'm here, let's get you into this replacement. A simple round of cloth replacing spells ought to do the trick.” She began concentrating, her horn glowing bright. “But...ugh...I'm sure more than a few ponies want nothing more to attend. This I swear with certainty!”
“Hey Goose! Al! You wanna come to the Painwheel party? It'll be a lot of fun!”
“For the fifth time, no!” Goose Down yelled impatiently. “Stop asking already!”
“Oh. Okie doki...loki...” Pinkie said, hanging her head. “Guess I'll keep asking around then.” She began walking slowly past. Looking back she added, “It'll be tonight, outside Sugarcube Corner. You know...if you change your mind...”
“Not. Likely.” Goose Down watched the party pony slink off.
Beside him, Al Gratin frowned sadly. “You know Goose, I like Pinkie Pie's parties.”
“Well you're not going if that monster is going to be there,” Goose stated. He leafed back through the sheet of paper in his hoof. “Come on, let's do this.”
Al sighed. “Fine.”
The two set their sights back to the city municipal building, then went inside.
Fifteen minutes later, Goose stormed out.
“Can't believe this!” he shouted, tossing the sheet of parchment to the wind.
Al Gratin followed Goose out. Tired eyes watched the parchment flutter through the air. He sighed, “It's okay, Goose.”
“It's not okay, Al!” Goose exclaimed, scratching his head violently. “Fifty signatures! Mayor Mare looked at a petition with fifty signatures and rejected it out of hoof! It's clear she has every intention of following the princesses, regardless of what we, the 'unwashed pony masses'!” He paused, huffing. “And I know what you're going to say, Al. 'Let's bring it up at the next town hall meeting.'”
“Well yeah, there's that,” Al said. “Anypony can put a bunch of names on a piece of paper and say it stands for a multitude. But if the mayor sees all of Ponyville turn out to say their peace-”
“The mayor will just ignore it too!” Goose retorted, snorting. He turned around, starting to walk away.
Al, shocked, ran after him. “Hold on! Goose! Where are you going?”
“To get ready,” responded Goose Down, curtly.
“Whatever for?”
“If the mayor won't listen, and 'Princess' Twilight Sparkle is too enamored with the beast to see reason,” Goose said, trotting along, only barely allowing the cafe owner to keep up, “then I'll just have to go to Canterlot and voice our grievances to Celestia herself.” He scowled. “I'll go over your head, alright, Sparkle. And nothing is going to stop-”
“AAAAAHHHH!”
The two stallions stopped in their tracks. Ears perked up, hearts fluttering as oft-disused fight-or-flight responses kicked in.
“What in tartarus was that?” Al asked, looking around frantically.
Goose Down blinked, “It sounded like...the screams of...children? But where did it-”
“UUUUURRRRRRRRRRYYYYY!”
“I knew we should have taken a right instead of a left!” Sweetie Belle exclaimed, leaning against the alley wall.
Applebloom and Scootaloo backed into the wall to either side of the unicorn filly. Trembling mightily, the two cowered. Scootaloo chanced a few frantic glances around the alley. Searching for something – anything – that could be used for rapid egress. Unfortunately, nary a ladder nor a drain pipe nor even a set of stackable trash cans were there with them.
No way out. The Cutie Mark Crusaders were trapped.
“Princess Twilight! PRINCESS TWILIGHT!”
Twilight Sparkle shot to attention, the bags of groceries she'd been carrying tumbled to the ground. At her side, Spike scrambled to pick them up in spite of his own encumbrances. “Come on!” he said, exacerbated.
The librarian princess looked around, then saw the source of the call. “Oh, uh...you again?”
Al Gratin galloped full tilt, finally collapsing to the ground at Twilight's hooves. “Puh...hah...gasp...Puh-rin...P-Princess...gasp...Twilight...”
“What is it? What's wrong?” Twilight said, suddenly growing more worried. She never made a habit of eating at this stallion's cafe, so she couldn't remember his name. But the only other time she ever had significant contact with him was...
“Princess! A monster!” Al gasped, looking fearfully up at the royal. “A monster is attacking! It's attacking...gasp...it's attacking kids!”
“What?!” Twilight exclaimed, mounted dread evolving into stark terror. “What kids? Where?”
“It's those three fillies you're always hanging out with!” Al said, watching the princess growing even more shocked. “They were being chased by something...something not natural!”
Al nodded his head furiously. “You gotta come quick! Goose...Goose is out there! When he saw what was happening, he just...and I...all I could think to do was...”
“Where?!” Twilight shouted, gripping the hysterical stallion around the shoulders. “Where is this happening?!”
“Down the road, near city hall!” the cafe owner choked. He shook his head. “Princess, you've got to save Goose and those kids! What I saw...it's so much worse than anything I've ever seen...”
Twilight released the stallion, marching forward. Sensing the need to attend his boss, Spike fell in step behind her. Scattered groceries and bags littered the ground where he abandoned them.
“Spike! I need you to get back home and send a message to Princess Celestia,” Twilight ordered sternly. Every muscle in her body ached to take off, both figuratively and to the air. But if her suspicions were correct, she couldn't afford to leave her mentor in the dark.
Equestria itself could hinge in the balance.
“What should I say?” Spike asked, whipping out a piece of parchment and a quill. For all his faults, he was always the best assistant.
“Tell her that a new enemy has attacked ponyville,” Twilight said. “A necrolized one. Tell her that she's needed in Ponyville right away; that she must arrive with all haste.” The alicorn unfurled her wings, beating them so as to rise into the air. Above her, the sun was already setting.
She turned one last time back to the dragon before flying off. “Tell her it very well could be a Skullgirl.”
The gaunt man planted a well-worn boot on the roof's edge. He leaned on the bent knee with one arm, resting his other on a cane. Weary eyes took in the scene below. Spied the children – children are children regardless of race – cowering against a wall. Ogled the burly stallion, strong of back and battered heavily, nearly nodding to unconsciousness on the ground. Bore witness to the casual crime against life and death lording over them all.
A resigned sigh issued from ancient lungs.
He could intervene. Use his particular skills to resolve the problem and avoid any deaths. Move everything and everyone around so their personal contexts no longer included each other. But he would not act. The traveler acted enough for a lifetime, even one as long as his. Acted once and filled his quota.
No, he wasn't there to affect events. The gaunt man who witnessed the scene in that pony town was merely a facilitator. It was for others that such an event played out. It would be for others to resolve it. The gaunt man could only watch; his very presence wouldn't even be noticed, hidden behind cover in a dimension just out of sync with the rest of this world. A courtesy to those the man could never assist: no sense giving the doomed false hope of rescue.
The man looked up, ears perked by the sound of rushing air, and the flaps of feathered wings. His gaze wandered towards the sound, and he could see a hurried lavender form flying into view.
A wry smile crept to lips framed with brown beard hair. The facilitator fished a modified cell phone from his pocket. “Are you seeing it from where you are?” he spoke into the phone. “...no, I'm sitting in the front row...yes, I too noticed it's not her. If she doesn't come, it simply can't be helped...let's wait and see for now, Mr. Rose.”
“M-m-mister...” stuttered Applebloom, casting concerned glances towards the bloodied stallion on the ground nearby. “Mister! Are you okay?” She dared not run to the adult to check, petrified as she was.
From his heap, Goose down groaned loudly. A bruised patch of hide twitched.
Their assailant took another lumbering step forward. “Urrrryyyy...” it growled.
“GET AWAY FROM THEM!”
Pure purple light slammed into the undead, causing it to lose its balance. As it fell, it barely acknowledged being pushed. “Urger?”
The three fillies looked up, their eyes lighting up. “Twilight!” they shouted in unison.
The alicorn princess landed between the fillies and their aggressor. “Are you girls alright?” she said, looking over her shoulder at them. She didn't wait to see their answer, instead turning back to get a good look at the monster rising back up.
It...was not how Twilight Sparkle imagined it would be. Then again, she expected a Skullgirl, and imagined it would be how Painwheel remembered her. Given that Painwheel destroyed the last Skull Heart host, a white-haired maid with a torn-away back and a legion of skeletons at her command was unlikely.
What Twilight saw disturbed her. The monster was at least two meters tall at the shoulder. Moreover, it was less like a single zombified entity, and more a collection of decayed corpses cobbled together. Legs bulged and bent unnaturally where several different pony legs had been stuck end to end. One of the front legs even sported a set of two hooves attached at the end (perhaps in a desperate attempt to add much-needed stability to the rotted frame). Colors – once bright pastels – now were muted and patched, visible lines criss-crossing their surfaces where the pieces were sewn together. On its back were two sets of pegasi wings, diminutive compared to the creature's overall scale. Moreover, the sets of wings didn't match, each appendage obviously culled from a different source, with barely any feathers adorning some of them. A tattered tail hung limply from the rear, the two-toned effect seen often among pony kind multiplied by a factor of three from what the librarian could see.
And then there was the head. Stallions seemed to provide the majority of the bulk of its huge, misshapen cranium. It was a virtual jigsaw puzzle of taught cheeks, thinning scalps, recessed snouts, watery eyes, and pieces of jaw. A jigsaw culled from completely different jigsaw puzzles, crammed in place by an unimaginative – or uncaring – foal. On the right side of the face, it sported two separate eyeballs, while the left side sported what appeared to be two halves of eyes crammed in place in a desperate attempt to produce one functioning eyeball. And Twilight couldn't be sure, but behind the thin and irregular mane, she could see glimpses of additional eyes sewn to the back of its head. Its mouth sported serrated, filed teeth, and bilious, putrescent drool flowed out of it. On its neck, metal bolts stuck out from stretched skin.
At least we know where the bodies went, Twilight Sparkle thought, fighting the urge to retch. She hoped to Faust she wouldn't find herself downwind of the thing.
“UUUUUURRRYYYYYYYYYY!!!” the zombie shrieked, maw opening unnaturally wide.
As if to say “you die now”. A sentiment Twilight Sparkle couldn't help sharing. Gritting her teeth, she tilted her head. A bright aura coalesced around her horn, and with determined effort the alicorn loosed the energy. It traveled straight and true, aimed for center of mass.
The power slammed into the composite pony, force splashing over the surface. Unlike the first time, it seemed to react facially to the experience, wincing and scrunching. Moldering muscles twitched and contracted in spite of their disparate sources and the shoddiness with which they were no doubt stuck together. The great mass of necrotic tissue staggered back a few paces, settling still upright. Its chest seemed...undamaged, however.
Twilight Sparkle resolved to try again, but harder. Unconsciously, she held back the full might of her magic. From her earliest instruction in magic, Twilight's teacher, Princess Celestia herself, impressed upon the filly the need to withhold the full power in her magic. Unicorns held great power within them, and using it fully in everyday life could be dangerously reckless. Especially when magic is used in self-defense; too easily could a unicorn – and indeed, probably more so with Twilight herself – harm somepony more than it was needed. Up to the present, even, Twilight habitually used a gentle touch, even in a fight. How quickly could she have ended the fight with Painwheel had Twilight extended beyond her comfortable strength, and REALLY tried to hurt her?
But then that would have risked killing the poor human. Even a crazed, violent individual like that didn't deserve to be put down. Not so with the...abomination standing before the alicorn.
Another, brighter, stronger beamed exploded forth, ramming into the corpse monster. Twilight strained bodily under the recoil and the exertion. Teeth clamped shut, sweat rolled down her brow. “Hrrrgh!” she growled, maintaining the focused beam of arcane might. She didn't know from whence the creature came, or who created it. Very well could it be a minion of the Skull Heart. After all, whatever force separated it from Painwheel upon entering Equestria, it could have greatly weakened the devil artifact. Was this the best it could do? Cobble together a servant from ambient flesh, instead of animating their bones entirely? How much mana goes into animating dead matter directly, versus creating a semi-autonomous flesh construct? More, or less? Was the Skull Heart within the creature? Or was it elsewhere, commanding from afar? Had it found a new host? Could it find a host among pony kind? Was it still bound by the seven year “cooldown” it seemed to exhibit in Painwheel's world?
So many questions swam around in Twilight's head, clouding her attention. She shook her head, pumping more mana into the beam, which was driving the zombie back further.
“Urrrr....urrr....URRRRRRYYYYY!” the monster shrieked, flailing under the waves of purple energy. It dug into the ground with its hooves, flexing spoiled muscles. In seconds, behind the wall of magic, stitches at key points around the body tore. But instead of breaking entirely, the new holes released thorns. Dull spikes that the magic stream bounced off, rather than simply flowing around like a babbling brook around a stone.
Twilight noted these thorns, and she finally stopped her attack. She watched in surprise – and more than a little fascination – as the released thorns began sucking in the sparkling remnants of magic around their owner.
No, she thought, not thorns. Horns.
The creature doubled over, stolen flesh twitching and rippling and writhing. It jerked its head violently, then chomped its teeth spasmodically. More magic flowed into it, into its multitude of horns lining its entire body. Finally, the zombie reared up, distended maw opening wide. “UUUUUUUUURRRRRYYYY!!” it bellowed, sparks shooting off its neck bolts wildly.
It was no mere yell that issued from that mouth, however. Twilight Sparkle felt more than heard it, bass and guttural as it was. Her bones shook, her teeth vibrated. A force like a shock wave hit her in the face, stealing her breath. And her heart, hard working partner that it was, skipped a beat, before shuddering to double speed.
“What's going on?” Scootaloo yelled, shivering against the wall.
“I don't-AH!”
Twilight could only brace as the mountain of meat charged forward and whipped its head up under the alicorn's chin. Such a force sent her flying back, where she crashed against the alley wall. “Uh!” she cried.
“Twilight!” the fillies yelled, crowding around their teacher. Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle looked back and forth from Twilight to the aggressor, frightened grimaces plastering their faces.
“Uuuurrryyyyy...”
Twilight Sparkle regained her senses, looking up into an approaching maw. So close was the beast that Twilight could smell its breath: noxious, of rotting meat and heavy chemicals. Like an open abattoir mixed with a poorly tended laboratory. If she hadn't been gripped by absolute terror, Twilight might have puked.
Instead, she shut her eyes and focused her magic. In one instant, the great maw lunged. In the next, a bright flash erupted from the alicorn's horn.
A hungry maw bit empty air, and the zombie looked around drunkenly. The alley was empty of ponies...living ones, at least.
“And that, your highness, brings me to the eighth part of my twelve part plan to revitalize downtown Vanhoover. You see...”
The missive appeared in a burst of emerald flame. Reflexively, the diarch of the day caught it in her golden aura, unfurling it absentmindedly. “I'm sorry,” Celestia said softly but firmly to the petitioner. She took just the slightest bit of pleasure from averting her attention from projects and plans that had no business being brought all the way to her, instead of to Vanhoover City Hall. Unless, as she suspected, Vanhoover rejected this gentlecolt's petition out of hand. “Just give me a moment,” she continued, beginning to read the hastily penned script, “I hate to interrupt but I really must...”
The petitioner, a rather dour earth pony, looked on with bewilderment. Just as he turned to his notes and charts, trying to pin down how to restart, or indeed exactly where he'd left off...
“...I really must be going,” Celestia announced firmly, regal form rising quickly from her throne. Her visage was one of concern, as well as mild yet growing fear.
“B-but your highness!” the petitioner exclaimed, sheets of parchment dropping to the ground from the stack he held to his breast. “What about my...?”
“More urgent matters have come up, sir,” the princess stated, motioning her guards to her side. She stomped past the flustered stallion. “Talk with my secretary and I'll see to it you receive another appointment to...ugh...finish your presentation.”
As she stalked from the throne room and towards the royal chariot, Princess Celestia felt a true fear she hadn't felt in weeks...and before that, more than a thousand years.
A block away from the point of egress, four ponies ported in and collapsed to the ground. Apple Bloom, Scootaloo, and Sweetie Belle all sighed in relief, as did Twilight. The neophyte princess rose shakily to her hooves, groaning from the new bruises on her body. She looked around. “You girls hurt? Did we leave anypony behind?”
Apple Bloom took stock of their group, teleported to a random street. At first she prepared to say they were all there, but then checked herself, growing agitated. “Twilight! That stallion! He's not here!”
“Oh, nuggets,” Scootaloo said, uneasily. “She's right. The stallion who protected us – the one that got hurt! We left him behind.”
Twilight looked behind her in the distance, as if looking through the buildings. She frowned. “Oooooh crimeny,” she muttered. Wings stood up, flapping once in anticipation. “I'll have to go back to get him.” She made to step forward into a running leap, then stopped. She turned around, looking at the fillies very seriously. “You three go home. Somewhere safe.” Without pausing, Twilight continued, “I don't want to hear any arguments this time. Just-”
“We know, Twilight,” Sweetie Belle said, frowning. Beside her, the other crusaders considered her words before nodding in agreement.
As one, the cutie mark crusaders turned around and ran, apparently opting to steer towards Rarity's boutique. They each shot backwards glances, then cantered out of sight as fast as their little legs could go.
Twilight sighed in relief, then took to the air. Flying rapidly, she crested the rooftops and hovered over the alley that, only a scant couple minutes ago, sheltered her little students.
Her little students. Twilight wondered if this was how Celestia thought of Twilight, not too long ago.
Looking down, she saw the prone stallion – the incorrageable Goose Down – right where she left him. Regardless of her lasting hard feelings for the pony who tried to lead an angry mob against Painwheel, Twilight felt profoundly guilty about leaving him. In the moments they were gone, the zombie could have finished the stallion off.
Thankfully, the undead in question meandered several meters away, having apparently lost interest and wandered off. Instead, it turned its neck lazily back and forth, it having no evident destination in particular.
Twilight considered this for a moment. What is this creature's motivation? It could be an automaton – a zombie sent out to attack anything it sees. But if it's really the Skull Heart making an impromptu meat suit because it doesn't have the power to field an army or form a proper bond with a Skullgirl, then why not finish off Goose? Then Twilight realized she'd gotten too far ahead of herself: why attack Goose, the girls, or anypony? Not enough information.
If that's the case, Twilight thought, I'll just have to find out directly. The librarian noble dove downward.
The top floor of a building – conveniently empty, thank Faust – rose shakily from where it toppled. Bricks flaked off from the point of severance, like crumbs from a baked clay cookie. The violet aura lifted the structure, casting a shadow over the abomination five meters square.
Thudding bricks against the street at its five hooves drew the creature's attention. It lazily examined the broken chunks of masonry, not seeming to make the causal leap that would make a living creature look up. Only when the magic cut out did the sound attract its attention. “Urryyy?”
Fittingly, structural damage it caused crashed down upon the zombie, buckling with the impact and collapsing inward with a joyous cacophony. Great dust clouds rose up, settling to the ground just as the weaponized top floor settled into its new pile form.
“...and...guh...” Twilight Sparkle swallowed, gasping, “...and stay...stay down...” She heaved and sagged, bent low towards the ground. Sweat soaked her matted fur.
For a moment the mound of masonry held still; a freshly filled grave. Remnants of a window curtain fluttered in the wind, its bright colors muted by the overcast sky. A sky growing progressively darker as the sun prepared for Celestia's ministrations.
Then, the mound shifted – shuddered. Twilight dared to hope it was merely some internal beam bending under the weight, or – better still – that the creature's bulk collapsed completely, its stolen bones snapping.
No such luck. “...urrr....uuurrr....uuuuuuu...UUUUURRRYYYYY!”
The grave exploded, air crowded by a low, violent bass and a thousand bricks. Rearing on its haunches, the misshapen abomination roared into the air. Jagged teeth barred, it stamped down on the remaining brickwork, sending yet more rubble flying. Mismatched eyes focused on Twilight.
“OH COME ON!!” yelled the alicorn princess, scowling in exasperation.
She took flight, souring above a charging monster. As it turned around in circles, trying to find its quarry, Twilight Sparkle sparked up her horn again. The violet aura engulfed the pile of masonry, raising a great cloud of loose bricks.
“JUST STAY DOWN ALREADY!” Twilight screamed, launching her myriad payload. Packed clay flew, impacting against her assailant. Unfortunately, much of the bulk parted around the target like river water against a strong stone.
“Urrry!” the zombie exclaimed, staggering back but remaining upright. Rotting head whipped about, shaking away bricks that clattered impotently to the ground. It locked sunken eyes on Twilight, and began scrambling for another charge. Thankfully, it slipped and stumbled on loose bricks, crashing down.
Panting, Twilight retreated to a higher altitude. She would need to go really high or...
“Huff...huff...can't...” Twilight wheezed, nearly falling then and there. Her muscles ached, her heart raced. Worst of all were her wings. She hissed, straining to keep flapping to spite the pain. Couldn't stop now. Had to get higher. Had to...
“Need some help?”
Twilight gasped as a set of legs wrapped around her from behind. As she greedily relaxed into the embrace, she looked behind. “Rainbow...Dash!” she coughed.
“See you have a little trouble over here,” Rainbow Dash said, smirking. “Or have you not been keeping up with those flying exercises like I taught you?”
“Rainbow Dash!” the alicorn gasped, “Fly...fly up! Higher!” Her voice was breathy and fearful.
“Relax, Twilight,” Dash said, looking down at the creature. “Whatever that is, there's no way it can catch us up-”
“URRRRYYYY!” the creature screeched, bending down. Muscled cobbled from several ponies contracted, straining under the bulk. Sparks erupted from the horns sticking out of its flesh. Then, with one mighty push, it launched into the air, subtle aura waves flying out like a splash.
“Watch out!” Twilight screamed, but Rainbow Dash frantically flapped backwards some meters. The two ponies watched the creature arc through their previous location before falling back to the ground.
They winced as it landed, accompanied by a loud, visceral snap; they watched it further as it limped along for a few seconds, before raising its now broken back leg. More snaps and crunches could be heard as the flesh warped and stretched, bones pushing against the inside of the skin. A magical sheen played over the surface, with sparkles peeking through the seams holding disparate bits together. Waving and jerking, the leg finally stamped the ground resolutely, perfectly realigned.
“...what the hay is this thing!?” Rainbow Dash exclaimed, eyes wide and jaw slack.
“Just fly higher, Rainbow Dash!” Twilight said. “It will just keep trying to jump at us if we're not at a higher altitude!”
“How do you know that?” Dash asked as she carried the alicorn higher. “Twilight, what-”
“I don't know what it is!” Twilight said, wiggling out of Dash's grasp and resuming her own flapping. They both looked down, watching the creature spot them, rear up, and jump again. This time, they were well out of its reach, as it snapped impotently towards them at the peak of its arc. Apparently it took four tries before that fact registered in its moldering brain. Looking around lazily, it started wandering away.
“...I don't know what it is we're dealing with, Rainbow Dash,” Twilight said more softly, frowning. “I can only guess aspects of its nature. What I do know is...is...is that Applejack?”
Down below, the orange farmpony trotted into view. She slowed to an uneasy shuffle, examining the devastation. “...what in tarnatio- WHAT IN TARNATION!?”
“UUUUURRRRYYYYY!” the monster screamed, barreling towards the farmer.
Applejack dove to one side, letting her assailant run past. It twisted and tried to change directions, but merely ended up slamming side-first into a glass shop window.
Wincing at the sound of shattering glass, Applejack cringed in horror. “What in the name of Granny Smith's chronic lumbago just happened?” she breathed, confused. Her eyes locked on the storefront, then bugged out as the giant of a pony staggered out, shards of glass sticking out of its body everywhere.
“Uuurr...rrryyy....” it growled, approaching.
“Holy moley,” Applejack whispered, backing away. She tried to laugh, and maybe forced a weak chuckle out. “Wow...you...sure are a biggen', ain't ya?”
“RRAAARRR!” the creature roared in answer, preparing another charge.
A multi-colored blur flew in, grabbing the farmer and carrying her away.
“Gah! What!?” Applejack shouted, flailing in the air. “Rainbow Dash? What the hay!” she said, looking at the pegasus that bore her aloft. The farmer looked down at the shrinking undead figure, then up towards a very tired-looking librarian.
“Got her,” Dash said to Twilight, holding the farmer up as she flapped in place.
“Got who? Me!?” Applejack said, looking to Dash, then to Twilight, then down to the grounded creature, then back to Twilight. “Twi! What's going on here?” She flinched as the creature starting frog-jumping up and down below them, snapping as it went. “What in Sam Hill is that?”
“I think it's constructed from bodies stolen from the Ponyville cemetery,” Twilight explained, still winded. “It started attacking ponies...” she began, carefully omitting the detail of who it was specifically targeting, “...so I had to engage it. Anything living seems to drawn it into violent assault. But the thing is too strong and hardy; it won't go down.”
“Why didn't you...ugh...just use magic?” Rainbow Dash said, struggling under her not insignificant burden.
“I DID use magic,” Twilight said forcefully, scowling. She sighed, exhausted. “I tried every spell I could think of to contain it, break it, or destroy it. Nothing is working. It seems...” The alicorn princess winced, studying the creature's last futile attempt to reach the group before giving up and wandering off, “...it seems to be able to absorb magical energy sent against it, and appropriate it for its own use.
“Every spell I wove at it, the...thing...just weathered it, then sucked up the spell like a sponge. You know that leaping trick it was doing?”
“Yeah...” Applejack said.
“Oh yeah,” Rainbow Dash said, frowning. “Nearly grabbed us out of the air.”
“It couldn't do that at first,” Twilight said, pointing at it in the distance. “It wasn't nearly as fast or as strong as it is now.” She sighed heavily, a guilty look on her face. “I only made the thing more dangerous the more I tried. Magic beams? Snares? Befuddlement? Nothing worked. Just made it stronger.”
“Twi...” Applejack said, looking at her friend sadly.
“Okay,” Dash said, “But what about...”
“Tried that,” Twilight said, pointing groundward to a pile of ropes. All shredded.
“...okay, but how about...”
“Tried that too.” Twilight pointed to a water tower tank, unmoored from its tower. Shredded.
“...um...” Dash continued, uneasily.
“And that.” Twilight pointed to the creature itself, which upon closer inspection had a visible iron spike jutting from its back. “After a while, I realized my best bet was just throwing things at it, in hopes it would just...break...but targeting vital organs does nothing. In all likelihood, it doesn't even use them. Blunt damage has been equally ineffective, and...that's where I got stuck.”
“Oh come on, the thing is made of...p-pony...p-parts...” Dash argued, stopping to sputter out words that, upon further review, chilled her to the bone. A shiver ran up her spine. She shook her head. “It can't be that tough.”
“Rainbow,” Twilight said flatly, “I dropped the top of a building on it. It's still moving. It's using the magic it's absorbed to mend injuries. It's that tough.”
“What do we do then, Twi?” Applejack asked, keeping a weary eye on the beast.
“So long as it has the supply of mana it stole, the zombie will continue to operate,” Twilight explained.
“Then all we have to do is wail on it until it gets tired and stops?” Dash asked. “Piece of cake.”
“No, not a piece of cake,” Twilight said, scowling. “We have no idea how long it would take to run it down, or even if it couldn't keep moving after the mana infusion is exhausted. My scientific opinion is that we don't have the ability to win a war of attrition, which is exactly what would end up happening. We'd need to be assaulting it constantly just to make a dent in it, especially because it isn't going to wait for us if we left to rest. It's going to go after innocent ponies. It's why I kept fighting it as long as I did.”
The other two winced at this. Their blood ran cold. “So how do we stop it, then?” Applejack asked.
Twilight Sparkle considered it for a moment, rubbing her temples with her hooves. After a full minute, she looked away, towards her tree home. “...I think I know what to do...what I need to do.” She turned to the others. “Girls, I need you two to keep the creature busy while I work something on my end. Can you do that?”
Rainbow Dash blinked, then her brow furrowed hard. “How much time do you need?”
“I don't....I'm not sure, Rainbow,” Twilight said. “Minutes? An hour? No...no, if my plan hasn't worked out in an hour, it probably won't work at all. So yeah, an hour at most.”
“We can do that,” Dash said, looking down at the earth pony in her hooves. A wry smile appeared on her lips. “Or is that going to be too much for you, AJ?”
Applejack snorted. “Just put me down, Dashie, and we'll see who can last longer.”
“Thank you both!” Twilight said, watching the two most competitive members of their little group descend. “And be careful! It's beyond dangerous!”
“Don't worry, Twi! We'll be careful!” Applejack called back. The two went into a dive towards their quarry. As she saw Twilight – battered and tired like Big Macintosh after apple-bucking season – fly away to accomplish whatever clever ploy she had in mind, Applejack considered her own ploy. Admittedly, probably not as clever, but Applejack knew better than to try out-planning Twilight. “Hay Dash.”
“Yeah?” responded Rainbow Dash.
“Throw me at that varmint. Hard like.” She smirked. “You can do that, can't ya Dashie?”
“Just get ready to stick the landing!” Dash smirked in return, increasing her speed enormously.
Below, a zombie ambled about, scanning for movement. The only thing in its line of sight was the crumpled heap of an earth pony. But it wasn't moving, so it might as well have been a pile of dirt. “Uuuuhh...”
“Incoming ya dog-eared galoot!”
“Ruh?” the zombie said, turning its head drunkenly. It was just in time to get four hooves right into its face, moving at sixty miles an hour.
“Son of a...ugh...”
Twilight Sparkle staggered through the library that was her home, heaping scorn and curses on the books scattered on the floor. She had time earlier to clean up, and now paid for her procrastination. Paid in nearly tripping over stacks of curious volumes of forgotten lore.
The rough landing outside helped matters little. She could ill afford the delays, however. Twilight threw wide the basement door.
“Rarity? Is that you?”
Twilight slowly inched towards the stairs.
“Did you forget something? ...hello?”
The stairs might trip her up, causing her to fall. With a sigh, Twilight spread her aching wings and jumped down the rest of the way. She came to rest in front of the seated, bound human.
“...oh...” said Painwheel, assuming a frown and furrowed brows. “It's you.”
“Painwheel, I need to talk to you,” said the alicorn princess.
“Go away,” Painwheel said, craning her neck so as to remove the pony from her sight.
“It's important.”
“Not to me.”
“Painwheel, I know we've had our...problems...”
“Problems?” Painwheel said, eying the alicorn sideways. “You call what you did to me just a 'problem'?”
“Painwheel, we really don't have time for this,” Twilight said, fidgeting.
“Then when is a good time? When were you going to fit our 'problems' into your busy schedule, Your Highness?” Painwheel said, lacing the proper greeting with as much scorn and bile as she could muster while still remaining dismissive and uncaring. It was a thin line indeed. “How about we talk about-”
“Celestia damn it, Painwheel, my friends could die!”
Painwheel turned her head forward, for the first time really seeing her captor. Saw the sweat-drenched fur, the wobbly stance, the trembling muscles. The cuts, the bruises, the matted hair, and bloodshot eyes. And how in all this, the mare sagged. Truly sagged. A body carried like a mare four times her age and ground down by life. Even the tone of the objection was raspy, born more of desperation than anger.
Black and red eyes were alight. “What happened to you?”
“Painwheel, there is a creature – a monster made of flesh stolen from the dead – walking around Ponyville, attacking townsponies,” Twilight explained slowly, deliberately. “It is stronger and potentially more deadly than almost anything I've ever faced. And I can't stop it.
“But you can.”
“No.”
“What?” Twilight said, blinking.
“I said no.” Painwheel turned away again. “Find someone else to fight.”
“Oh come on!” Twilight whined, hazarding a step forward on shaky hooves. “Innocents are dying, my friends – your friends – are fighting for their lives just to buy time! You have to help!”
“Why the hell do I 'have' to do that?”
“Because it might be the Skull Heart!”
The human shot around again. She ignored the sharp pain in the neck, her parasites' objections to such sudden movement. “I...but...what?”
“The Skull Heart!” Twilight repeated, exasperated. “...I think. I only know the Skull Heart from your memories, but it could still be. You haven't seen it since you entered Equestria, right? What's to say it couldn't craft itself a new form, or summon some rudimentary minion? Seems not unlikely, given the time frame. And if so, you're partly respon-”
“No!” Painwheel yelled, gritting her teeth. She struggled against her bonds, the flush of agony in her flesh only fueling her anger. “Don't you dare blame this on me! I didn't try bringing the Skull Heart here! I didn't want to come here to begin with! So fuck you!”
“...Painwheel, I'm sorry, I know that was out of line and...”
“Fuck your sorry! Where was your sorry when you were raping my mind!?” Painwheel yelled, then twisted her neck to look away again. She huffed and puffed, letting herself settle back down. “I don't care if it is the Skull Heart. I don't care if it's a Skullgirl born again, or whatever. I'm not going to fight it. It's not my problem.”
Twilight gaped, mouth opening and closing rapidly in her attempt to find the words. She shook her head. “Painwheel, I know what I did was awful,” Twilight said, her voice beginning to hurt from the strain. “What I did was terrible, but especially to you. And I know I have no right to ask you to forgive me. But Painwheel....Painwheel please look at me!”
Grudgingly, Painwheel turned back to look at the alicorn.
“Painwheel,” Twilight said, eyes growing wet, “I'm not asking for your forgiveness here.” She crawled forward so she had to look up to meet the human's eyes. Twilight sat on her haunches, and clapped her front hooves together. “I'm asking for your help. Because I need it. All of Ponyville needs it.”
Against her will, Painwheel's face loosened to a sad, guilty frown. Then she shut her eyes, scrunching her face and shaking her head. “...I know...” she whispered, “but that's not what I want.”
“What do you want, then?” Twilight asked, shaking her clamped hooves closer.
“...I want...” Painwheel whispered, eyes clasped shut, “...to be free...”
“What?”
“I WANT TO BE FREE!” Painwheel screamed, tearing her eyes open. The force of the answer caused Twilight to stumble backwards in alarm. “I want to be free! I'm sick and tired of being everyone's slave! Their puppet! They're...God-damned...fucking...WEAPON!
“That's all I've been! I weapon to be used by others in their wars!” Painwheel's body shook violently, accompanied by shooting pain. She powered through it. “By Brain Drain against Lab 8. By Valentine in some backwards doublecross against the Skullgirl. And now even by you! I hate it!” She started screaming, angry tears running down her flushed face. “I want to be free from being a weapon! From being used! From these damned restraints!” She pulled against the wrist and neck and ankle bands that chained her to the chair. “Free from this society! From your fake friendships! Free from my PAIN!”
“Painwheel...” Twilight whispered, tears starting to form in her own eyes.
“...free...from my pain...” Painwheel continued, voice cracking. Shut, baggy eyes couldn't stop a well of tears from flowing down her face. She breathed heavily for a while, knuckles white from clutching the chair arms so hard. Gradually, she calmed down, leaning heavily back. “...I'm not going to fight the Skull Heart,” she said hoarsely, turning away. “I did my share of that already. Get some other killing machine to fight for you...”
Twilight Sparkle lay where she fell, staring at the human. She could not but stare for a small eternity. Then, slowly and shakily, she rose to her aching hooves. Twilight looked to the ground, stealing glances at Painwheel. She shook her head in disgust – disgust at herself – and turned around, rubbing a hoof to her weary face. Her foreleg tried admirably to brush away the tears. She sighed, looking back at Painwheel.
Twilight's lips trembled sadly. She blinked. Then stepped closer, horn beginning to spark and crackle.
It was harder this time, summoning the magic. More mana did she pump out in that fight than Twilight was used to. She recalled vaguely the anecdotes of foolhardy unicorns injuring themselves from overcasting. A fear the former unicorn thought she outgrew long ago when she took a fuller measure of her own power, and found it in generally in excess of what she could ever realistically need at any given time. She could feel the pain now, running up her horn and down into her brain (and to a lesser extent running along the matrix of magic lines that permeated her pony body). Could feel, in that spot somehow both behind her and in her and below her, and how empty the well felt. Felt woozy; light of head, confounding her concentration.
Felt the awful, indescribable vice grip on her heart.
She lit her horn; the aura flickered. Twilight clapped one eye shut in the effort.
Painwheel heard the working as it began, and turned facing forward in time to see the horn touch the foot of the chair. It flashed violet, then shifted to a golden yellow. The human shut her eyes, shaking her head in surprise. Her heart, not altogether relaxed from her previous emotional outburst, raced. She clutched the arms of the chair.
But she felt nothing, and opened her eyes, looking down. The tangle of glowing chains shattered and dissolved into wisps of light. Unconsciously, she cringed, feeling with quiet surprise as her body moved unhindered.
She looked at the alicorn. “...I don't understand...”
Twilight took several steps back, giving the human room. “You're right,” she said, shaking her head. “I should have done that long ago...and I have no right to ask you to fight on our behalf.” Twilight motioned towards the exit with a jerk of the head. “So there you go. You're free. You can do what you want.”
Painwheel rose uneasily, legs nearly buckling out from under her. She had to steady herself on the back of the chair. Joints popped audibly in multiple places, and the parasites squirmed painfully with the enhanced movement. Then she wobbled under the weight of the Buar Drive coming undone from its containment. She looked back to see it, letting it spin once or twice to test the movement.
Twilight Sparkle sighed sadly, looking down. She shut her eyes. At least she did one thing right.
Then she heard the metallic clatter, and felt the blade coming to rest against her neck.
“...uh?” Twilight chocked, eyes shooting open. The blade rose slowly up, and instinctively Twilight retreated with it. Her chin rose up as far as it could go just as she fell onto her flank. The Buar blade pressed against the flesh of her throat. A light tingle came from where they connected, making her wonder frantically if it drew blood. Her eyes traveled from the blades on over the metal cord and to the severe face of Painwheel.
Twilight shivered, eyes wide. The urge to swallow was enormous, but...she feared so to gulp. Would it be enough to cause the blade to bite deeper? Or would it be all the provocation Painwheel needed?
Painwheel's eyes bored into Twilight's skull, scarlet drill bits set in obsidian sockets.
Their sights remained locked onto and into each other. The pure, primal stare of predator and prey. And like the prey animal she was, Twilight froze. And just like the predator animal she was, Painwheel remained poised, coiled like a spring. Ready to pounce, and deliver death. The only sound of note was the sound of beating hearts, hers and hers.
Twilight shut her eyes first. On a visceral level, she longed to bolt. As is, she allowed a bated breath to flow out. She waited, cold sweat running down her back.
Painwheel waited, eyes finally playing over the submissive mare's form. She waited, sucking in breath. Then she sighed, shutting her eyes in turn. She willed it, and the blade retreated, leaving the naked throat with a single drop of blood.
Twilight Sparkle blinked, stifling a befuddled groan in her throat as she clutched at it with her hoof. The watched the human step back, then walk past.
Twilight inspected the small blood smear that came away on her foreleg, then turned to see Painwheel ascend the steps and exit the basement.
Painwheel got eight meters outside the library – which really was a literal tree house – before she heard the commotion in the distance. She looked up at the sky, cloudcover parting to reveal a sea of stars. The moon was out, just peeking from behind a wispy cloud. And there, near the center of town, she spotted a multi-colored trail in air. It was making right for the ground.
She had only a moment or so to wonder at the odd sight before a massive explosion went off over the source of the commotion. “What the fuuuuuuu-!” Painwheel said, staggering back, hair whipping around as a shock wave washed over her. Balance remained an issue, so she fell over, catching herself only with the Buar Drive. She used it to boost herself back to her feet, running fingers through her messy brown hair.
The waves of color had yet to finish spreading before a low, guttural voice rang out in the distance. This was followed by several crashes, which sent clouds of dust billowing up.
Painwheel blinked. She shook her head, turning to walk in the opposite direction. Three steps was all she took before she stopped, looking over her shoulder. In the distance, the cries of ponies went out.
The human groaned, placing her face in her hands and rubbing it with all her might. She sighed, turning around and marching towards the fight.
The street lamps were only just coming alight as a crowd of panicked ponies cantered along a Ponyville avenue. Loose cobblestone rattled under their frantic hoofbeats.
“Anypony see it chasing us?” said a stallion near the front of the pack.
One stressed mare glanced to either side of herself. Realizing she was the last in the group, her eyes grew bug-eyed, fresh cold sweat running down her brow. Fearfully, the hindmost craned her neck, looking behind, heart racing faster than ever.
To her relief, the street behind the herd was deserted, only trampled pieces of garbage marring the pathway. No movement could be seen, save the flutter of wind against a flag. The mare sighed happily. “I'm not seeing it. Looks like we gave it the OOF!”
The mare slammed right into the ponies in front of her, all prior thought aborted. She staggered backwards a pace, her head whipping around in alarm. “W-what the...? What's the big hold up? What are you...” The mare looked along to the front of the group, freezing in place and choking back a gasp.
Painwheel walked slowly their way, laboring under the weight of a pinwheel of blades that gleamed in the moonlight.
“...it's the other monster!” the stallion at the head of the herd screamed, clutching his head with both forehooves.
More terrified voices erupted from the crowd behind him, some as loud as a bell, others soft as a psalm.
All of them caused the human to growl, rubbing her ears. “Shut the hell up!” she roared. To her pleasure, the throng's cacophony died in their throats at once. Painwheel trudged forward, watching as the ponies froze, shivering violently. She swore she could see one unicorn mare sobbing quietly.
Typical. Just what Painwheel needed.
She continued advancing, staring more through the ponies than at them. Hoping against hope they would get the hint. Between the exhaustion of the last few days and the fresh sting of the parasites in her legs, Painwheel was in no mood.
But she stepped within feet of the herd and they only widened their eyes – their enormous eyes – and quickened their hearts. The sobbing unicorn mare held her breath in a desperate attempt to halt her sobs, fresh tears staining her cheeks.
The foremost stallion shrank in horror. “Aaaaah...” he whined, his eyes meeting the human's impatient glare. His heart skipped a beat, seeing those red and black eyes.
Painwheel scoffed. Idiot. Before he could react, she reached her arm around the stallion and, with one rapid motion, swept him forcefully to the side. “Get out of the way,” she demanded, barely registering his alarmed squeak before she stepped through the space he previously occupied.
A simple order, but one the rest of the crowd heeded with nary a moment's hesitation. They parted to either side, allowing Painwheel a wide berth to pass. As she did, more than one pony breathed a sigh of relief. At least two fell to the ground in a faint. Others remained tense, frozen at attention or bracing themselves in anticipation of further running. Painwheel ignored them.
All except the hindmost. To her, Painwheel paused and turned her gaze. “Where is it?” she said, as softly as her gravely voice could.
The hindmost mare shook uncontrollably. She felt on the verge of hyperventilating. With care, she pointed a trembling hoof back the way they came. “D-down there...quarter kilometer...near P-p-Ponyville s-s-sc-square...can't m-miss it-t-t...”
Painwheel followed the pointing hoof, then nodded. “...thank you...” she said, walking on.
She left an entire crowd of terrified, trembling townsponies in her wake. All shocked and confused, or unconscious. The street reeked of fresh sweat and urine.
“Ugh...what? Where...where am I?”
Goose Down rose laboriously to his hooves. The stallion winced, rubbing his temples for the pounding headache assaulting him. He looked blearily around, slowly becoming cognizant of the excessive property damage to the surrounding area. “What in Tartarus?”
He ambled around, still dizzy by a wide margin. His heart beat faster, trepidation forming with each new facet of destruction that came to his attention. Paving stones were torn up by the hundreds in erratic patterns running up and down the town square. Various shop fronts and building walls lay smashed in; windows across the board were shattered, either smashed through or blown in. Smoke billowed from perhaps a dozen fires, smoldering in various locations.
Goose had to skirt around two halves of an overturned produce cart. Lettuce and squash squished under Goose's steps, yet he hardly noticed for all the bricks. Crumbling baked clay squares lay everywhere. Wooden boards, too. All splinterful and jutting out with bent nails.
“...what the hay happened here?” Goose muttered, straining to remember. What was he doing before he passed out?
“...ugh...” came a voice from nearby. It sounded weak and weary.
Goose Down hobbled towards the sound, turning a corner...a corner formed by a taller structure having fallen over into the square. He peeked around, and saw an orange earth pony leaning hard against a pile of broken masonry. Bruises covered a good portion of her body, along with scratches and splattered mud. She looked to Goose dizzier than himself.
Applejack. Princess Twilight's friend.
And nearby, on her back with wings splayed, moaned the blue pegasus with the multi-colored mane. Rainbow Dash, Princess Twilight's other friend. She didn't look much better.
Then Goose's vision wandered for a second while he tried to process the sight, and he saw the creature. Goose choked.
It stood resolutely, though one could hardly judge if such resulted from actual resolve, or a structural, biological inability to do otherwise. It had sustained a fair amount of damage, but Goose could see light – a violet, magical light – wash over its body, mending it. The mending was slow, and in a few places visibly stalled for a second or two. Where the healing failed utterly was at the many spots where glass, wood shards, and spikes of metal were jabbed into it. The beast paid it no notice.
Goose remembered. He remembered, and the memory offered little comfort to the stallion. He shivered, thinking of their...well, it really wasn't a fight. He looked around at the devastation wrought upon the surrounding few blocks, and identified that as a fight. What Goose and the zombie had was a curb-stomping. On Goose.
He hoped to Celestia and Faust and every deity he could and couldn't name that the children had at least escaped. Seeing the farmer and the weather pony over yonder, he wondered if they could escape.
The creature approached Applejack, watching her watch it. The farmer could barely stand up on four legs. She gulped visibly. “...dag...nabbit...”
“Uuuuuurrrrrryyyyy...” the zombie breathed, lumbering closer to its quarry.
Goose Down was not a hero. He'd never had the spirit for it, nor indeed the body. Didn't have the tongue for inspiring speeches, nor the pluck for daring ventures. He was a pony with a trade, and that was always good enough for him.
Then he came face to face with an angry, hungry, bipedal monster. He fled that creature in terror, letting it run amok until more capable ponies – ponies like Princess Twilight and her friends – came around to stop it. Stop her. Goose Down ruminated upon that cowardice a long time. Deep inside, where other ponies kept their secret passions or burning zeal, Goose had only guilt and shame. The guilt and shame of having been among the first to encounter that threat, and having done nothing. He felt the tightness in his chest, that vice grip around his heart. That caustic burn in his gut.
His name was Goose Down, yet he felt like a huge chicken. It consumed him.
It consumed him more, the idea that not only was the threat to their town still around, but that it was in the city limits, boarded in a municipal building where it could get out. In retrospect, Twilight Sparkle was the most qualified to keep something like that contained. But Goose couldn't accept it. Guilt ate at him from inside. He had to act. To do something, no matter how small, to protect Ponyville.
And when every authority didn't budge, Goose grew angry. Resentful. His chance at true heroism, at being able to make it up to the town he failed. Snatched away and dashed.
Then a new monster appeared. It threatened the innocent. And Goose was once again among the first capable of responding.
“Hey! Ugly! Over here!”
“Urry?” the zombie muttered, looking lazily towards the noise.
Goose Down waved a hoof high over his head. “Yeah, that's right! You ready for round two, you disgusting piece of OH SHIT!”
“UUURRRRYYY!” The zombie barreled towards the now alarmed earth pony stallion and whipped its head up under him.
“AAAAAAAH!” Goose screamed, sailing through the air. He hit the ground rolling – lucky him. “Oof!”
There was that dizziness again. Goose rolled over onto his hooves, blinking.
“Uuuuurrryyyy...”
The stallion started, seeing the huge shadow cast by the moonlight flow over him. Goose looked up, lips trembling.
The monster bore its fangs in a cruel, crooked smile. A pure smile, though in the sense like Goose once heard so long ago. Was it pure good, or pure evil? It was pure, at least in its mission. Goose Down gazed at those stolen teeth, and those milky, soul-less eyes, and pegged it as pure. Pure in its killing intent. No malice, no vendetta, no sadism or need or perverse need. It was killing incarnate. Instrument of ends, devoid of meaningless purpose or excuse. It was merely a force of nature; a Murder Elemental. Killing distilled until it was – yes – Pure.
Goose Down shut his eyes and shrank in. He grit his teeth, waiting for the killing blow.
“UUUURRRYYY!!”
A clang rang out.
…
Goose Down cowered for a time, then risked a peek for the lack of any sensation at all.
The zombie's front hooves pushed impotently against a giant metal swastika that gleamed in the moonlight. It was attached to a great jointed tail that pushed forcefully back in opposition to the creature. Two bony, pale hands braced against the blades; wrists clad in broken irons, a rippling with discolored black veins.
A skull adorned the top of her head. The human's head turned to look sidelong at him.
“You?” Goose gasped.
“Do I...huff...know you?” Painwheel grunted, calloused hands pushing against the weight of a dozen ponies. One eyebrow arched quizzically.
“No,” Painwheel said. “Why? Did you do anything...worth...hurk...remembering?”
“No!” Goose exclaimed, frantically shaking his head. “No, I didn't do anything! I'm nobody!” He tried to smile, an effort that only ended up looking insincere and trite.
Painwheel didn't seem to notice. “Then how about...you move?” she said, pushing harder against the blades.
“W-what?”
“Uuuurrrryyyy...” the zombie breathed, rancid grave breath wafting over the two.
“MOVE ALREADY!” Painwheel yelled, face scrunching up in discomfort.
“Oh! OH!” Goose exclaimed, scrambling to his hooves and backpedaling away. He kept staring at Painwheel – his own personal nemesis – tripping over several piles of bricks on his way out.
“Finally,” Painwheel muttered, locking red and black eyes with her undead opponent.
“Uuuurrrryyyy!” the zombie intoned, chomping at Painwheel in spite of the distance and metal between them.
“Yeah,” Painwheel growled, summoning strength in her arms. With one mighty heave, she threw the monster off. It tumbled backwards, rolling down a meter away. The Buar Drive swung back, taking its place behind her. Painwheel rubbed her aching arms, as if a message could dull the pain of effort and parasitic influence. She barked at it, “Fuck you too!”
“Yes! Good girl!”
The observer smiled broadly. From the perch atop the building, he leaned over for a closer look. His weight shifted more upon the hand-carved cane he sported.
Music erupted from his coat pocket. The observer fished the phone from it. “Yes, I see it, Mr. Rose,” he spoke excitedly into the receiver. “Our girl has finally arrived...no, I don't think she'll have much trouble. You chose well, after all.”
Ch. 22 - Dance With The Dead In The Pale Moonlight
Many Years Ago
“Sister! Slow down! We art having trouble keeping up!”
Luna flapped harder, just rising above the jagged ridge rocks. She found her sister standing at the top, looking out. The dark blue alicorn landed, seeing what Celestia stared at.
Just beyond the mountains they flew through was a vast expanse of flat ground. Or rather, an open expanse of ground that gently sloped down towards a single point in the center. It was an enormous crater, some kilometers wide, terminating on all sides at stark mountain walls. The ground along the crater was barren. Not a single pool of water could be seen, nor any moving creature, nor a single thing of green.
At the very bottom of the crater, at the center of the desolate land, was the distant, tiny flicker of unnatural fire.
“Tis that what we seek, dear sister?” Luna asked, straining her eyes.
“Yes, Luna,” Celestia said, priming her exhausted wings for another (mercifully short) flight. “That is it. There be the Skull Heart.”
Present Day
“UUUUUURRRRRRRYYYYYY!”
The zombie rose to its pilfered feet and bore down upon the human, shrieking as it went.
For her part, Painwheel hardly expected such speed. “Shit!” she said, throwing her arms in front of her face. The undead crashed into her hard, sending her flying. “UUGHH!”
She tumbled mid-air, watching the ground sail over her head. “Hraah!” she growled, starting up her Buar Drive. Righting herself, Painwheel arrested her fall, hovering under the pinwheel blades' power. The human watched the zombie, contemplating her next move.
All the while, she wondered why she felt nothing. Then the zombie jumped after her.
“Wha- SHIT!” she shouted, leaning back so the propeller blades would carry her backwards. By mere centimeters the zombie's chomping jaws missed Painwheel. “Grah!”
“Urry...uuu...rrry...URRRYYYY!” The undead fell to the ground, then leaped again, clouds of dust and pulverized brick flying off from its hooves.
“Again?” Painwheel croaked, flying sideways. “Stop ju-” She was cut off by the undead, who glanced off of her nonetheless. Painwheel spun bodily in the air, losing the ability to remain aloft. Seeing the ground approach, she tucked and rolled, coming to a stop on solid ground.
Nearby the creature landed in a slide, more dust thrown up. It looked around, then locked onto its target. The creature charged.
Painwheel jumped sideways, letting the zombie charge past. She adjusted to more solid foot, keeping a weary eye on the creature. Said abomination turned around, beginning another charge.
But Painwheel didn't make a wide leap to the side, instead stepping at the last moment to avoid it.
You're fast, Painwheel thought, but I've got a measure of you now.
The creature lumbered around, preparing another charge. “Uuuuurrryyy!” it yelled. But as it ran in, Painwheel pulled a fist back and sidestepped, planting a hard punch into its face as it ran to meet her.
Painwheel hissed, wincing as the Gae Bolga parasites pierced her flesh from inside, spreading out into a collection of sharp spikes across the length of her arm. Through those spikes, she felt the vibration of resistance as tip met necrotic flesh. She heard skin tearing. No howls of pain, though.
Except maybe her own soft mutterings.
As the monster slowed to a stop, Painwheel didn't afford it respite. She charged, planting one foot down while another kicked high. That limb too flexed, trembling in visceral agony as spikes shot out and turned a blunt leg into a sharp morningstar.
The zombie turned just in time to receive the strike to its face. “Uuuuwwyyy?” it slurred, staggering back.
Painwheel followed up by pulling low and jabbing into the creature's chest, slipping another stinging spike into it. She allowed the spike to remain extended, instead wrenching it violently from the zombie's flesh.
The zombie's face turned down towards Painwheel, barely cognizant of the assault. Glassy eyes stared at her blankly. “Uuu...uuurr...rryyy...” it breathed, a bit of torn lip flapping as it did.
“GRRAAAH!” Painwheel screamed, pulling her other arm back and punching straight for the monster's face. The agony running through her arm was incalculable, but the feel of the face giving as it met her fist was strangely satisfying. Especially since the parasites extended in time to piece at least a couple of the monster's eyes with a sickening squelch.
“BRROOH!?” the creature said, flying back. Great dust clouds rose up where it landed, flailing.
Then Painwheel thought, why the hell not? Despite the ache in her arms, she drew back, flexing their muscles. Pressure built up steadily, until she released it and a barrage of flying spikes at the creature. The spikes flew and struck the monster with dull thuds. It continued to gesticulate wildly, unbothered.
“Aaah!” Painwheel gasped, clutching her arm. Her eyes shut, as if doing so could lessen the pain.
Oh right, she thought ruefully, that's why not.
Her jaw hurt from clenching it so, but she looked towards her opponent. Did that do anything at least?
The zombie rose to its hooves. To Painwheel's confusion, violet energy poured out from the spikes – no, horns – that stuck out from its body. She was certain those weren't hers. The glow seeped into the gaping wounds, which slowly mended. The hole in its chest closed, as did the ones on its neck. As the monster turned towards Painwheel, its mangled eyes grew whole. Or as whole as they could be. Vitreous fluid leaked down its face, seemingly unmoved by the magic seeking to fix the eyes. Instead, those stolen orbs seemed sunken, less full.
The shredded flaps of its lips reattached. “Uuuurrrryyyy....”
Nope, Painwheel thought, gawking. She scowled, assuming a fighting stance again. So how the hell do I kill this thing?
Then, another thought occurred to her: why did she assume it could be killed? It wasn't alive to begin with, was it?
Why did she feel nothing?
“UUUUURRRRYYYY!” the monster screamed, charging again.
Painwheel took a step sideways, then extended her hand. As the zombie came near, she grabbed its throat, digging her fingers into the dead flesh.
“HRRAAAH!” Painwheel yelled, planting her feet into the earth and lifting.
“Urr?” the zombie choked, losing its footing on the ground. Legs kicked spasmodically is it rose into the air.
“Go to hell!”
Painwheel slammed the zombie head-first into the ground. The earth shook under her feet with the impact. Another cloud of dust shot up around them.
Before the creature even settled on the ground, Painwheel drew back, building painful pressure in her arms. Both fists shot forward at the creature, erupting in black spikes. “DIE!”
Undead mass flew back, rolling over and over across the cobbled street. With a sickening smack, it crashed against the side of a building. Cracks formed in the already weakened wall, followed by the whole thing crumbling on top of the monster.
Painwheel breathed heavily, clutching her arms. She couldn't fell anything.
Why couldn't she feel anything?
The pile of bricks and painted plaster erupted, revealing the zombie rising to its hooves. “...urrryyyy....”
Why didn't she feel it?
The zombie dug its five hooves in the ground and charged.
Why was it so...empty?
Painwheel scowled, rage boiling over. Her teeth clenched, she activated the Buar Drive.
Charging past, the zombie missed the human, seeing in the corner of its vacant eyes a blur of motion. Then the zombie stumbled. “Urry?” it yelped, falling on its face and skidding to a stop.
Painwheel turned around, the spinning blades coming to a stop. At her feet flopped a severed front leg; the one with only one hoof.
“You're empty!” Painwheel yelled at the zombie.
“...uuuu...rrryyy? Oof!” the creature said, falling back to the ground after a failed attempt to stand. It may have had four hooves, but it only had three legs under it. It struggled to rise again, atrophied synapses in its brain trying desperately to compensate for the lost limb.
“You,” Painwheel growled, glaring at the zombie. Her fist clenched hard enough to hurt. “You're not there, are you? Skull Heart, you aren't in there!” She stamped a foot. “You aren't my enemy! You're not a shell for the Skull Heart! Not some two bit Skullgirl! You're not even a puppet of the Skull Heart, like those minions were!” Painwheel threw her arms around in rage. She screamed, “You're not a creature! YOU'RE A THING!”
She looked down again at the severed leg. It twitched and writhed, spilling violet energy from its gaping wound. Yet it didn't heal, because it didn't have anything to heal back onto. Eventually, the sparkling aura ran out, though it continued kicking.
So that's why you needed me, Painwheel thought. In her mind, she saw two things. The first was Twilight Sparkle. You realized it could keep going forever, because every part of it was enchanted towards animation.
The second thing Painwheel saw in her mind was the Cat. The one that made terrible puns.
“You're a WHEEL Pain!”
Painwheel scoffed in disgust. She kicked the leg, watching it flop impotently on the ground.
This thing wasn't like the Cat, however. For all her posturing and stupid fixation on wordplay*, the Cat was clever. She was chopped into pieces once too, Painwheel could tell, but had worked out how to weaponize her own nature.
Painwheel could still feel the bites and scratches where the Cat and her own detached head double-teamed her.
This...thing, however, was stupid. Not in five minutes or a hundred years was it likely to figure out how to work in pieces. Like an octopus, its limbs once detached could only follow some simple program.
The Buar Drive powered up again. “HRRAAH!” Painwheel screamed, swinging her “tail” around so it sliced through the leg. Once, twice. Right at the joints. When she stood back to admire her work, she found the leg in three more pieces, incapable of anything but spastic muscular twitches. Completely inert.
Painwheel looked back towards the...thing. It limped towards her, trying and failing to get itself into another charge. It had apparently mastered rising again, but it had trouble grasping that it couldn't run.
So the human came to it.
“Uuu...rrr...aaahh...rrry...yyy...”
It was a thing. Not a creature, a thing. It couldn't be killed because only things with life, even a perverted semblance of life when it came to a true undead, could actually be killed. One doesn't kill a thing.
One breaks it.
“Uuuurrryyy!” The thing barked, lunging for Painwheel.
She lashed out steadily with her blades, cutting a wide gash through the thing's front.
It stumbled forward, past Painwheel. With the human directly behind it, the thing reared and bucked awkwardly with its back hooves. Painwheel jumped back a step and blocked with the Buar Drive. With only one foot under it, the thing fell into its belly. “Uuurrryy!” It started clamoring to its feet.
Painwheel locked onto the thing, but it didn't turn around. Instead, it walked backwards, and bucked again. Painwheel stepped back, studying it. Then she saw the eyes in the back of the thing's head.
“Mrrr...” Painwheel growled. She crouched low. “If that's how you want to play this...”
“Urry!” The thing bucked, barking.
Painwheel jumped over the kicking legs, landing on its rump. From where she balanced on the once-horse's back, she could see the front of its body glowing with violet light. She could also see the glassy eyes on the thing's back staring at her.
“Uuuurrrryyyy!”
She coiled like a spring. In more ways than one.
“GRAAAH!” Painwheel yelled, jumping. Her hands dove at the creature's rear eyes, digging deep into their misused sockets. The Buar Drive, meanwhile, spun up and angled down.
“Urry?!?”
As Painwheel's fingers dug into the back of the thing's head, the spinning blades sawed into the thing's back. The twin sensations of moldering flesh and the vibrations of metal on bone shot through her, along with the customary pain of the parasites. The blades screeched, sending bits of necrotic flesh flying, along with colorful sparks.
“UUURRRRYYY!”
“Feel Pain!”
With a sudden lurch, she felt the blades cut right through the thing's lower back, breaking her platform in two. Painwheel braced her feet against the base of the thing's neck, and pushed off. As she flew off, she tore the rear eyes right out of the thing's head. She hadn't even landed before she threw the crushed eyes away.
The thing fell to the ground. In two pieces.
“Uuurrryyy!?” the thing screeched, face planted against the cobblestone. It used its front leg to push back, only to find itself without another leg to stand on. “Uuuurry?”
The entire flank half, meanwhile, kicked wildly, rolling over and over.
As Painwheel stood up, she was surprised to see the back half – probably accidentally – hopped upright and stagger around. It swayed drunkenly from side to side, dirt puffing from the ground where it stomped frantically.
Painwheel merely scowled, revving up the Buar Drive again. Dropping to all fours, she allowed the spinning blades to sail over her and cut downward. With yet more sickening screeches, the blades bisected the detached rear half of the thing. As the two halves tottered, preparing to fall to either sides, Painwheel swung the blades horizontally, slicing through both knees, and then again through both ankles.
With one final smack, this time broad side, Painwheel sent the various pieces scattering to different directions. Each fell to the ground, twitching yet useless. More violet energy splashed out of the pieces where they were cut, like a stream of blood, before cutting out as they tumbled to the ground.
“Uuu...rrr...uurrrr....rrrryyyy...uurryy...”
Painwheel turned back to the main body. It dragged itself along the ground with its one remaining leg, the scraping of gravel under its belly signaling its approach more than the labored growls of the thing.
She walked forward, watching the periodic, unending sparks erupting from its backside.
Painwheel was curious. She had a theory.
“Uuuuu....rrryyyy...yyy...”
Painwheel effortlessly dodged the thing's chomp, seizing its throat with her off hand, right below the mangled jaw.
“Hrrk!”
The human lifted the whole creature, her muscles straining under the effort. “Ffff...argh!” she grunted, balancing the thing on the stump where the back half of its body used to be. The thing tried to kick with its remaining, two-hoofed leg, but Painwheel grabbed it at the ankle. “Rhaah!” With one quick motion, she bent the leg back, then steadied a foot against the thing's chest. She jerked again, this time bending the leg forward at the knee. She heard the sickening pop and crack. Releasing the leg, she saw it tumble uselessly down.
Then she saw violet energy pour over the knee, attempting to repair it.
“NO!” Painwheel barked, pulling back her free hand. Muscle spasms rocked her arm, the parasites coiling and writhing in anticipation. Her skin rippled with their movement.
“RRAAAAGGHH!” Painwheel punched the thing's chest as hard she she could; long, thick spikes erupted from her flesh. She stabbed through, slamming her way through the skin and even collapsing the rib cage. Or what remaining of it.
She heard the puncture of metal. She felt the debilitating electric shock.
“AAAAHHH!” She screamed, lightning – magical lightning – running through the parasites and into her arm. The shock of it all whipped the parasites throughout her body into a frenzy. “ACK! AAAAAAHHH! FFFUUUUCK!”
“UUUUUUUURRRRRRYYYYYYYY!!!” the thing shrieked, head whipping to and fro.
“Aaah! M'gah!” Painwheel gasped, using the thing to support herself. Her vision blurred, spots forming in it. Her teeth chattered, her body shuddering spontaneously. Yet she forced herself to remain standing. And she would not loosen her grip.
Willing the parasites that impaled the thing to remain rigid, she began to pull back. At first, she felt a seemingly immovable force attached to her hook. Her already tortured arms protested the ill treatment.
But she was committed. The most analytical part of her mind – the one born of Carol's diligent studies - said she was succumbing to the sunk cost fallacy, but she didn't care.
Painwheel breathed deep. She breathed deep, and summoned the remainder of her strength. Tendons in her arm threatened to pop. But she pulled, and pulled, and pulled.
And something in the thing's chest budged.
“One. Last. PULL!”
With that, Painwheel wrenched her arm back, the thing's chest exploding. A hunk of metal came with, impaled on a thick black spike. “RRAAAAGH!” she screamed, wrenching it again so that the metal came free from the monster, long strands of wire came with it.
All along, the device spat colorful light and sparkles. They sprayed out of the wires and oozed from the puncture the spike made. Not merely violet, either, but a rainbow of sparkling aura waves. The wires, some lined with segmented metal coverings, whipped about, loosing mana obscenely.
“Ack...uuuu....rack...rrrryyy...” the thing coughed, belching mana from the mouth and eyes and nostrils and cuts.
Painwheel dropped the thing unceremoniously, enraptured by the blinding contraption stuck like a kebab on her biological weapons. Finally, she shook the device, and finally knocked it off, allowing her parasites to crawl back inside her. The machine clattered to the ground, spewing mana until all was finally expended. It stilled, letting only the occasional spark erupt from its chassis.
“Whoa! Did you...did you see that, Twilight?”
Painwheel turned around in alarm, seeing a very tired Twilight Sparkle being half-carried by an amazed and bewildered Spike the Dragon.
“Wha-...what are...gulp...you doing here?” Painwheel said, gasping for air. She unconsciously gripped her dominant hand, which twitched and shook violently.
“Painwheel!” Spike said, carrying Twilight closer. “I ran into Twilight trying to fly over here.” He looked at the carnage all around him. “This sure is...gulp...sure was a...fight...” He clapped a scaly hand over his mouth. “Ugh...sorry, I just...” He shut his eyes. “Maybe I shouldn't even be looking at this...”
Twilight Sparkle hopped off of Spike's shoulder, hobbling over. “Painwheel,” she said, weakly, staring at the device on the ground. She pointed to it, “You pulled that out of the creature's chest?”
“Yeah,” Painwheel nodded, glancing towards the contraption. “I...had a feeling.”
“It was probably right,” Twilight said, bending over for a closer examination. “I wondered how a single being, even an undead one, could absorb and hold as much mana as it did. Simple enchantments would be burned out if overloaded, unless it was really, really well-designed. This device must have been built to regulate the flow of mana in the body. Fascinating...if we could just...”
“Uuuurrryyy!”
Slice.
“Ah!” Twilight exclaimed, jumping away as the thing's head fell to the ground at her feet. Twilight looked up, and saw Painwheel's Buar Drive spin down, right next to the now-decapitated corpse of the monster. “Painwheel...you...”
Painwheel stepped over to the head – still mouthing its trademark litany – and kicked it across the street. The human looked up to Twilight.
“...Painwheel...” Twilight said, shocked. Then she smiled weakly. “...thanks...for everything...”
“I suppose I, too, must offer my thanks!”
Pony, dragon, and human all looked up to the moonlight sky. From it, the shining figure of the Day Princess descended, flanked on either side by soldiers. Moreover, behind them were a legion more of soldiers; pegasi carrying more grounded troops in chariots. High in the air, almost hidden by the night sky, was the distant form of Princess Luna.
“Sorry we're so late!” Celestia landed softly on the ground, mindful to avoid scattered body parts. “From the looks of things, Painwheel, you've already taken care of the threat.” Celestia smiled. “For this, you have my thanks.”
Painwheel looked bewildered. “Um, thanks...your majesty,” she muttered, looking down at her hands and flexing them experimentally.
“Wait!” Twilight exclaimed, drawing the attention of everypony present. “Where are Rainbow Dash and Applejack? Painwheel, have you seen them? Are they okay?”
“Over here, Twi!”
The assembled group – which was growing rather large at that point as more and more soldiers touched down – looked down the street. Coming in – slowly – were five ponies. Applejack, as carried by Pinkie Pie, and Rainbow Dash, as carried jointly by Rarity and Fluttershy.
“Applejack! Rainbow Dash! Girls!” Twilight said, overjoyed. She limped as excitedly as she could through the sea of soldiers and signs of dismemberment. “How did...I don't...oh, I'm so glad you're okay!”
“He he, yeah,” Rainbow Dash said weakly, before coughing. “Me and Applejack weren't going to let one zombie get us that easy. We're too...ow...awesome.” She winced, rubbing her back.
“Yeah, real awesome,” Applejack muttered, winking playfully. She started a pained laugh when Dash scowled at her.
Rarity, bearing her share of the weight admirably (which was most of it, when Fluttershy was involved), waved a muscular soldier over. “Good sir, be a dear and take our friends,” she said when he came near. “They simply must receive medical attention, and it's been a time and a half carrying them.”
“Right away, ma'am,” the soldier said, motioning his compatriots over. “We have a team of medical personnel on hand.”
“Much thanks!” Rarity said, surrendering her boastful charge. She turned back to Twilight. “We found Rainbow and Applejack over yonder, nearly passed out.”
“Were...not!” Dash called, being carried to a pair of medics along with Applejack.
“I must say, I expected bad things to happen, when Sweetie Belle and her friends said there was a monster,” Rarity went on. “I just wasn't expecting so much destruction or...ew!” Rarity recoiled in disgust from a rotting thigh she nearly stepped into. “Ew, ew, ew!” She looked around, seeing the extent of the carnage. “Oh sweet Celestia...” Finally, her face grew pale – paler than normal – and she turned away, growing violently ill.
“Oh my goodness!” Fluttershy shrieked, spying the gore. “What is...did anypony get hurt? Oh my goodness!”
“No, no, don't worry, Fluttershy,” Twilight said, rushing over to put a comforting hoof on her friend's shoulder. “Nopony got hurt. This is...these are...all part of the monster. Painwheel had to...” Twilight Sparkle pointed over to Painwheel, but became utterly without words that wouldn't horrify Fluttershy further. “...had to...um...”
“It wouldn't die,” Painwheel said, walking over. She wandered past and kicked the monster's head along with her. “So I had to break it.”
“EEP!” Fluttershy yelped, seeing the head flop near her.
“Painwheel please!” Twilight objected, glaring towards Painwheel. When Painwheel glared back, raising an eyebrow, Twilight wilted. “I mean, try to be more delicate.”
“Oh poor thing!” Fluttershy said, bending low and looking at the head blink at her. “Painwheel, did you have to hurt it? Maybe it didn't...know what it was...doing?” Her scolding would have carried more weight had she not been so long to the ground, so reluctant to look Painwheel in the eye, and so pale and shaken. Evidently she was struggling to afford the abomination against nature and life the same consideration she would afford any creature. That she only did so out of obligation, and little from actual concern. She looked ill just staring at the head.
The head chomped impotently at her, causing her to jump. She hid behind Painwheel, shaking.
“Oh, I have no doubt it didn't know what it was doing,” Painwheel said, kicking dirt onto the head. “That's the problem. It's not a creature, Fluttershy. It's not a critter, in need of love.” She pointed towards the sparking mana machine she pulled out of its chest. “It's a machine. A killing machine...
“...just like me...”
“Nonsense, Wheelie!”
Pinkie Pie jumped up and down next to the human. She too looked a paler shade of pink than usual, but she forced a smile on her face. “You're not a robot, Wheelie,” Pinkie said, poking Painwheel's arm with a hoof. “You're a friend! A spooky friend, but a friend nonetheless!”
“Not just a friend,” Spike said, joining in. He raised a dragon fist in the air. “You're a hero!”
“Bullshit,” Painwheel retorted, causing the rest of them to stop and frown in surprise. Painwheel crossed her arms, scowling. “I'm no hero. I didn't even want to fight at first. And...” She spread her hands wide, gesturing to the carnage. “...it doesn't take a hero to do this. I'm just a freak, with the right weapons at her disposal.”
“You're wrong.”
Painwheel turned to yet another voice. It came from just outside the group, and ponies parted to see who it was.
It was Goose Down.
“Lady...Painwheel?” Goose said, limping over, wincing with every step. “I've been in this town a long time; since I was born. I've seen a lot of disasters. And I've seen heroes. Most important of all, though...” He paused, stepping close enough to look up into Painwheel's red and black eyes. “...I know what I'm not. I'm no hero. But you saved me, even though you didn't have to. Even after all I did and said about you.”
“Who are you, again?” Painwheel asked, cocking an eyebrow.
“Doesn't matter! I'm nopony!” Goose said, shaking his head. “You! It's you who is important! You say you didn't even want to fight, but you came anyway, right?”
“Well...” Painwheel said, looking sidelong at Twilight Sparkle.
“Well, that makes you a hero,” Goose continued. “You came and helped, and did what nopony else could. I see now...” Goose took a deep breath. “...I see now that what makes a hero isn't how they are on the outside. Or how they acted in the past. What matters is what they do now, when good needs doing. And you...you did good. Even if you're freaky looking and have a buzzsaw on your back.”
Goose looked around, seeing all eyes on him. “He he, well, I guess that's all I've got to say.”
“No, it was well said,” Princess Celestia said, joining the conversation finally. She looked up to the sky, waving to an airborne Princess Luna. “I think that our friend Painwheel acted courageously. Above and beyond what was required of her.”
“Yeah! Go Wheelie!” Pinkie Pie cheered, breaking out pom poms from nowhere. She even did a celebratory cartwheel.
“Hear hear!” Spike said, patting Painwheel on the thigh.
“I...hurr...concur...” Rarity said, double over as she was nearby on the ground, trying to hold back yet more vomit and desperately avoiding the gore all around her.
“Yeah, Painwheel,” said Twilight, patting her on the shoulder. “You did good.”
Painwheel blushed heavily; she cupped her hand over her mouth. She even allowed her bangs to fall over her eyes. “...thanks...”
“Hey...Princess?”
“What is it?” Celestia and Twilight said together. Then Twilight blushed, and ceded the floor to her mentor. Celestia smiled benignly. “You may speak, soldier.”
The soldier in question looked around, lips quivering. Everypony was exhibiting signs of nausea then. “Princess, what are we to do with all these...with the remains?” He looked over to the head, which continued to blink. The soldier gulped.
“Hmm...” Celestia hummed, stroking her chin. “I would have the remains of the creature analyzed. It would be...informative to find out what kind of necromancy went into its making, or how it remains animated. Perhaps we can figure out how to make it inanimate again, as well.”
“Oh! Oh!” Twilight said, waving her hand in the air. “Princess Celestia!” She pointed to the contraption on the ground nearby. “We should have that analyzed too!”
“Oh?” Celestia asked, genuinely curious.
“Yes!” Twilight said, as excitedly as she could be given her condition. “That device was inside the creature, and it...”
“Very well, very well, Twilight,” Celestia cooed, waving her former student down. “You are a princess and you've studied the creature extensively as it is, so I trust your counsel.” She turned to the soldier. “See to it that device is also collected for study. I expect Princess Twilight will send more complete reports of her on-the-field findings.”
“Yes, your majesties!” the soldier exclaimed, saluting and walking off.
“Now then...” Celestia said, turning back to Twilight and Painwheel. “There's one last thing I need to know.”
“It wasn't the Skull Heart,” Painwheel said, eliciting puzzled reactions from everyone around her. Twilight looked knowingly at Painwheel, not sure of what to make of the revelation.
Celestia looked taken aback. “You're absolutely sure?”
“When I last fought the Skullgirl, I could feel her in my bones; in my blood,” Painwheel said, confidently. “Even those resurrected to fight for her felt touched by her influence. By the power of the Skull Heart. I felt nothing of the sort from this...thing...”
Celestia smiled. “That is good to know.” She sighed in relief.
“Now I need to ask you a question, your majesty,” Painwheel asked. She ignored Twilight's shocked expression, as if such impudence could not stand. Painwheel had no time for it.
“Oh? What would you like to know?”
“It's something that's bugged me ever since I met you, Princess,” Painwheel said, looking Celestia straight in the eyes. “How do you know what the Skull Heart is?”
Luna met her sister's eyes, the latter looking over her shoulder. Their hooves left rough prints in the dust where they trod. Their tracks began some meters away, and led towards the crater's trough.
“I hear thee, sister,” Luna said softly, nodding her head. Celestia nodded in return, facing again their destination. Luna spoke up again, “Thou art sure this is the right course, Celestia?”
Celestia paused, considering. “...mayhaps it is,” she said, eyes downcast. She watched a stray wind brush grains of dust away. “In my heart of hearts, wish I that there were another way. But needs must. Dost thou disagree with mine decision, sister?”
“...I follow thy lead,” Luna said, looking around at the utter devastation in the landscape.
“...very well...”
The two alicorns marched on, their goal already in view. In moments, they entered a rough circle of shattered stones. Were such stones placed there by very superstitious ponies, long ago? Unlikely, thought Celestia. After such a cataclysm, nopony would dare enter the radius. Not after what happened. To any rational mind, the crater was haunted ground. More likely, the stones were thrown high into the air by the explosion, and being directly above the center, crashed down on it afterward.
It mattered little, for even from a distance the stones were too broken and divided to truly block what hovered within its rocky nest. The two came upon it, letting the blue light play over their faces in flickers.
“WHAT IS THY WISH?”
Present Day
“You have had a long day, sister. Rest here; see to Twilight and her friends. I will oversee clean-up and recovery efforts.”
“Thank you, Luna,” Princess Celestia said to Princess Luna, hugging her briefly.
The library door closed, with the Day Princess walking further into the building. She smiled at seeing Spike – Twilight's noble and diligent assistant – running hither and yon, reshelving books and sweeping away minor messes. In the center of the library, a circle of cushions were arranged on the floor. Twilight Sparkle and her fellow bearers of the Elements of Harmony (now inaccessible*) sat chatting and laughing. Three of them nursed wounds, the medics having just left.
On one end of the circle, her great bladed swastika leaning against a wall, herself tended to by an ever-busy Fluttershy, sat Painwheel.
“Princess Celestia!” Twilight chimed in, though rather weakly. She barely managed to sit up in her seat. “Will Luna be joining us?”
“Unfortunately, Luna has volunteered to head cleanup, so she won't be joining us,” Celestia said, shaking her head lightly. She smiled, “It is a shame she can't visit, but such things cannot wait. Especially since some of the buildings destroyed housed Ponyville residents, who will need temporary shelter until repairs can be made.”
“Well, at least nopony was seriously hurt,” Rarity chimed in. Under the grave eyes of Applejack and Rainbow Dash, she added awkwardly, “...present company excluded, naturally.”
Applejack shrugged, “Eh, Ah guess it's fine, long as it's just us what got put through the ringer. Ain't that right, Dashie?” Applejack smirked at her Pegasus friend.
“Could have...ow...gotten a little less beat up, if you ask me,” Dash said, rubbing her sore flank. She sighed, “Looks like I'm going on another break from weather work. Good thing it's summer at least. We were taking it easy anyway.”
“Over here, Princess!” Twilight said, leaning slowly over to pat the cushion next to her.
“Thank you, Twilight,” Celestia beamed, taking the offered seat.
Spike ran into the room, balancing a bucket on his head, and a tray in his hands. “Oh gosh, oh gosh...Tea, Princess?” He held out the tray, with a steamy teapot and a ceramic bowl with a handle. “Sorry we're out of teacups! The rest were in the wash!”
“No trouble at all, Spike,” Celestia said, levitating the pot and bowl over, pouring herself a portion. Were she a greater stick-in-the-mud, she would insist on one of the other ponies offering her their cup. Or comment on how Spike ought to have thought about seeing to the royalty first. Princess Celestia was not a stick-in-the-mud, so she merely smiled and enjoyed her bowl of tea. “Delicious as always.”
“Thanks! Gah!” Spike said, before having the bucket on his head fall forward, blinding him. He removed it, then visibly remembered what he planned for it. “Mop! Gotta find the mop! Twilight, where is the mop!”
“Upstairs in the bathroom, silly dragon,” Twilight Sparkle teased, giggling as her assistant scrambled up the stairs. She turned to Celestia. “Now that we're all settled, Princess...”
“Yes, of course,” Celestia said, nodding and taking one last sip of tea. She placed in before her, and cleared her throat. “Our dear Painwheel,” she said, turning to the human, “wanted to know how I know what a Skull Heart is.”
“I did,” Painwheel agreed, shifting in her seat. She thoroughly enjoyed such freedom of movement after weeks confined to a chair.
“I'd like to know that as well,” Twilight said.
“Iffin it's all the same to ya'll,” said Applejack, raising her voice, “Ah'd kind of like to know what the hay a Skull Heart is in the first place.”
“Me too,” Rainbow Dash said, raising her hoof.
“Me three!” Pinkie Pie shouted, bouncing on her bottom and grinning like the madpony she was.
“I would, as well, like that answered,” Rarity chimed in, nursing her own tea.
“Um...me too,” Fluttershy said, followed by dropping to a whisper. “That is...if it's alright with you...”
“Wait...” Twilight said, cocking an eyebrow, “I never told you all about that?”
“No,” said all five ponies in unison.
“Well, I did order you not to,” Celestia said, drawing attention away from Twilight so the latter could save face. “But I suppose it would do to explain the Skull Heart. Painwheel, would you do the honors?”
“Me?” Painwheel asked, surprised.
Celestia nodded. “I think we ought to get your side of the story first.”
Painwheel frowned, looking at her feet. Then she sighed. “Back home – in my world – there is the legend of the Skull Heart, an artifact of great power. If a girl or young woman found it, the Skull Heart would grant any wish she made.”
“Any wish?” Rarity asked, a twinkle slowly forming in her eyes.
“Any wish,” Painwheel nodded, shifting to sit cross-legged. “Before you get excited, there's a price. If the girl making the wish wasn't pure of heart, or her wish selfish, the Skull Heart would corrupt that wish, and the one who made it.
“The wish itself would almost certainly be twisted so that it would cover what the wisher asked, but not what they wanted,” Painwheel continued, watching Rarity's burgeoning excitement die down. “And the wisher herself would be twisted too, made into a puppet of the Skull Heart. Powerful, undead, and malicious. A creature bent on wreaking havoc on the world, and raising as many from the grave as she could, as her minions. She was a threat not easily destroyed, and almost guaranteed to resurface every seven years.
“We called this creature a Skullgirl.”
“Hang on,” Rainbow Dash said, drawing everyone's attention. “A creature raising the dead as an army. Why does that sound familiar?”
“Because I mentioned it to you before, remember?” Painwheel answered.
“Oh...wait, that was real!?”
“Yes! I told you that was real!” Painwheel insisted. “Or did you think I had any reason to lie? That I cared enough to boast just to show you up?”
“So...the Skullgirl is real?” Applejack asked. “It's not just a story?”
Painwheel shook her head. “No, it's real,” she said solemnly. “In my world, it's a history changing event when the Skullgirl shows up. People set their watches to the Skullgirl's reappearance, and dread it more than they dread anything else.
“You all know that I was turned into...this,” Painwheel said, gesturing to her body, “to be a living weapon. But you don't create a living weapon just to fight wars. To fight mortal foes. You certainly don't turn someone into...me...for just anything. I was modified...created...to fight the ultimate enemy of the world.
“I became Painwheel as a weapon against the Skullgirl.”
Painwheel nodded. “I may have been made into a freak, but it was because someone – a particularly amoral someone – decided I needed to be how I was to beat it.” She closed her eyes, sighing loudly. “Between her henchmen and all the other women who wanted the Skull Heart for themselves, I only barely beat her, even with everything Lab Zero gave me.”
“That bad, huh?” Applejack asked.
“Some of the previous ones were worse,” Painwheel answered.
“How?”
“The last one that came around took the military of three different countries working together to finally take down,” Painwheel explained.
Applejack broke out into a cold sweat. “Land sakes...”
“And that thing we just fought today?” Rainbow Dash asked.
“A pathetic baby zombie compared to the Skullgirl,” Painwheel said.
“I don't know,” Pinkie Pie said, scratching her head. “I've dealt with babies before, and they didn't need dropping a building on top of. Not that I would do that, of course!” Pinkie smiled guiltily.
Painwheel blinked, then decided she didn't need to know. “Apparently the Skullgirl I fought ripped a building off herself and threw it at a blimp. One that was somewhere in the vicinity of several dozen floors high.”
“Oh dear!” Fluttershy gasped, covering her mouth. The rest had mouths slack, trying to comprehend that image.
Celestia merely nodded solemnly.
Painwheel looked to her next. “So now that I've said what I know, would you mind sharing, your majesty?”
“...it is a long story, going back a long ways,” Celestia began, taking another swig of tea. “It began...well over one and a half thousand years ago.
“Long ago, before Equestria was founded, ponies dwelled in the old country, to the west. Now there only exists nations like Saddle Arabia, far to the southwest. But in the north and central parts, there were fertile lands. There ponies of the three races lived.
“There also lived the alicorns Uranos and Gaia...my and Luna's parents.”
Twilight had to pick her jaw off the floor. “YOUR PARENTS!?” she gasped, eyes bugging out. “Wha...guh...why is this the first time I'm learning this!?”
“Calm down, Twilight,” Celestia cooed, patting the fledgling alicorn on the shoulder. “Of course we have a mother and father.” The day diarch grew a mischievous smile. “Or did you think we simply sprang from the heavens, fully formed?”
“I don't...I...was there a lesson I missed?” Twilight said, holding her head. “A book I forgot to study? Oh, I'm such an idiot!”
“You wouldn't likely find mention of the old country in any book, Twilight,” Celestia explained, trying to shush her former student calm. “Most such records were lost prior to the settling and founding of Equestria. Anything that survived did so as legend or myth, and might not have been written down. For my part I...don't like to speak of that time.”
“Why's that, Princess?” Fluttershy asked softly, a sad expression on her face.
“Well, that's part of the story, I suppose,” Celestia said. She shook her head, happy to get back on track. “Uranos and Gaia dwelled in that land, though they were not rulers. They acted more as sages than anything; figureheads or councilors to the three races. Mother and Father always felt that ponies deserved to manage their own affairs, and to only gain their aid when they wanted it.
“One day, however, they were made aware of a mysterious artifact...the Skull Heart.” Celestia heard the gasp and nodded. “Yes, Painwheel, Equestria had a Skull Heart in its distant past. And yes, Twilight, this was something not recorded in any books.
“It came to pass that the Skull Heart surfaced in the old country...or perhaps it had always been there. Whatever the case, two instances of its use were known to Mother and Father, and to the pony population at large. The first was of a mare who wished to eradicate a certain plague that had been running through pony society. Lo and behold, it disappeared, and the sickness to my knowledge never surfaced again.
“The second use apparently had a mare wishing for great wealth. She became a Skullgirl, and ruled her village with an army of the dead, from a throne of plundered gold and skulls.”
“Oh goodness!” Fluttershy gasped, holding her hooves to her cheeks.
“How horrible!” Rarity said.
“But they stopped the Skullgirl, didn't they Princess?” Rainbow Dash asked.
“Indeed, it was not long before militias rose up and eradicated the Skullgirl, though they suffered no few casualties. This was made worse by their fallen comrades joining the fight on the Skullgirl's side. Eventually, however, the Skullgirl was vanquished, and the Skull Heart captured. Realizing the apparent double-edged sword they had, the commander in charge delivered the Skull Heart to the council of the three races, and they in turn delivered it to Uranos and Gaia. The Skull Heart was a terrible gamble, so only the wisest ponies would be fit to see what was to be done with it.
“At first, Father locked the Skull Heart away, believing it a tonic too strong to be used lightly, if at all.” Celestia sighed, looking up at the ceiling wistfully. “But then the troubles started.”
“Troubles?” Rarity asked.
“Luna and I were young then, so we didn't quite understand the underlying causes,” Celestia said, “but it was those days when the racial conflicts began. The races couldn't get along, or belittled each other. The earth ponies were downplayed as “lesser” or “inferior” ponies; the pegasi grew militant; and the unicorns grew proud. Distrust and condescension ruled. Disharmony thrived like a cancer.
“More and more, Father saw the foolishness of the little ponies. Saw their folly, and hoped they could get better. No, not hoped. He wished it...and then his thoughts turned to the Skull Heart.”
“No! They didn't!” Twilight said.
“They did,” Celestia said, nodding her head. “Father asked Mother to use the Skull Heart. Surely she, he reasoned, was pure of heart enough, and the wish to bring harmony to pony-kind selfless enough. Mother was...hesitant. But she loved Father very much...”
“It went wrong, didn't it?” Painwheel said. “I've heard that story before, in my own world.”
“Really, Painwheel darling?” Rarity said, surprised. “You've heard this before?”
“It was only seven years ago, just in time for the Skull Heart to appear,” Painwheel explained. “The Queen of New Meridian, bless her heart, wanted to end the war they were involved in with the surrounding countries. She ended up becoming possibly the worst Skullgirl the world had ever seen.”
“...a Skullgirl so strong, it took three whole countries working together to stop,” Fluttershy whispered.
Celestia nodded knowingly. “As it was in your world, Painwheel, so it was in mine,” she said sadly. “With no less disastrous results. If I had to guess, it was her love of Father that did it; Mother's wish for harmony between the races was not purely selfless, she wanted to please Father so.”
“Princess Celestia,” Twilight Sparkle said, tears forming in her eyes, “I'm so sorry.”
“Thank you Twilight, it is appreciated,” Celestia said, smiling sadly. “In the end, Mother...became a Skullgirl far greater than our world had ever seen. Perhaps it is a curse upon the Skull Heart that afflicts the rulers so...Mother knew immediately what was wrong, and how the Skull Heart compelled her so to destroy. With all her strength, she flew to the edge of the continent, to the mountains that had no names. There she waited, though she could not wait long. Father, overcome with guilt over what he'd done, told Luna and I to be good...and left to fight her.”
“Come on!” Rainbow Dash exclaimed, on the edge of her pillow. “Princess, please tell me it all worked out!”
“Yeah...I'm not so sure I like this story,” Pinkie Pie said, ears drooping.
“It...ended, I think,” Celestia said, sighing. “Luna and I defied the order to stay put, and flew off after Father. But by the time we got there...all we could see was a massive explosion. We...only ever found the sash Father wore when he left, partly burned away. The only thing we found of Mother was the Skull Heart. We...abandoned it where we found it...”
By this point, most of the room had started crying. Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie clutched each other, bawling their eyes out. Applejack and Rarity wept, though Twilight more than them. Even Rainbow Dash, self-proclaimed tough mare extraordinaire, sniffed back tears.
Painwheel frowned sadly, though she didn't cry. She was too stunned, trying to process the weight of that tragedy.
Celestia remained sorrowful, but in control. It was not a story she liked telling – least of all to her little ponies – but they were demons she'd long ago made peace with. A millennium dulled grief better than anything.
Finally, Twilight Sparkle collected herself enough to ask, “Princess...what about the wish itself?”
“Hmm?” Celestia hummed, turning to Twilight. “The wish?”
“Y-yes,” Twilight sniffed, rubbing away tears. “You said that it all started because your...your mother wished for harmony between the races...what happened there? Did it get corrupted?”
“Hmm...” Celestia said, considering the point. “In a way, yes. Though it corrupts wishes, it grants them in its own twisted way. Do you all remember the Windigos?”
“The Windigos?” asked Applejack, brushing her nose and sniffing. “The ones from the Hearts Warming Eve play?”
“The very same, Applejack,” Celestia said.
“Windigos? Hearts Warming Eve?” Painwheel asked, bolting upright. She winced slightly, the parasites making their presence known again.
“I think you'd like it, Wheelie,” Pinkie Pie said, trying to smile despite her tears. “It's this great holiday where we celebrate harmony, and have fun parties!”
“And there's a play that gets put on traditionally,” Spike said, ambling on by, carrying a stack of books to shelve. “We were all in it once, in fact.”
“I'm sorry, Princess, but how does that...” Twilight said, before trailing off. The realization hit her like a ton of bricks. “Oh...oh! You mean...?”
“Indeed I do,” Celestia said, nodding. “I cannot confirm it, but I think the Windogos were created by the Skull Heart to fulfill its end of the bargain.”
“Question!”
“Yes Painwheel?”
“What's a Windigo?” Painwheel asked, hand raised. “No one has told me what those are.”
“A Windigo,” began Celestia, “is a creature of air and winter. An elemental that, when in large groups, can bring frost to the world. It is also attracted to conflict...like the one between the races of pony so long ago.
“As told in the story of Hearts Warming Eve, the old country experienced a heavy, never-ending winter that threatened to kill everypony. A detail omitted in modern tellings is how the loss of Gaia and Uranos exasperated the conflict. Their loss deprived ponykind of their wisdom.”
Twilight Sparkle made a mental note to write everything she learned that night down as soon as possible. In fact, she had to resist the urge to get out paper and quills that moment.
“The winter threatened to starve the whole country. In desperation, many ponies fled, settling here, the land that would become Equestria. But the Windigos were not localized to the old country: they followed ponies wherever they went.” Celestia smiled, happy to be able to tell the proper story now. “It was only by learning to work together that their harmony pushed away the Windigos. It was upon this harmony that Equestria was founded.”
“And the Skull Heart made these Windigos?” Painwheel asked, raising an eyebrow.
“The timing fit,” Celestia said, shrugging. “The Windigos were never seen before Mother made her wish. Moreover, the Windigos exhibited no natural habits for living creatures. They fed on nothing, and seemed to have no biology. They could be spirits and elementals, but it seemed always odd to me how they were attracted specifically to conflict. To disharmony, and nothing else. Almost as if...”
“As if they only existed to punish disharmony!” Twilight exclaimed, gaining a gleam in her eye. She looked at her hooves. “I thought that seemed peculiar when I read about it, but I just brushed it off! This makes way more sense!
“...wait, does that mean Equestria was founded only because of a corrupted wish?” Twilight's ears sagged.
“Yes, that does put a bit of a damper on the whole spirit of things, doesn't it?” Rarity said, tapping the ground with a hoof.
“Oh, I don't know,” Celestia said. “I like to think that my little ponies had more than a little to do with it.”
“How so?” Rainbow Dash asked.
“Yeah, that seemed like all the Skull Heart's doin' ta me,” Applejack said.
“Indeed, but would harmony also be restored, to a certain point of view, if the whole of pony-kind were destroyed?” Celestia asked. “It wouldn't be a positive thing, of course, but it would have ended the fighting.”
“I...suppose so...” Fluttershy said, growing queasy just thinking about that alternative.
“Then as far as the Skull Heart was concerned, whether the three races worked together or met oblivion, it would have done its job,” Celestia explained. “I like to think that Equestria was founded, not because of the Skull Heart, but in opposition to it. My Mother's wish, though corrupted, nonetheless came true, because ponies were able to put aside their differences and let their better natures shine through.”
“Huh,” Twilight said. “I guess that does make sense...though I suppose you kept out the Skull Heart and Skullgirl stuff from the story because...I guess it was hard on you, Princess.”
“Oh, it was,” Celestia said, nodding. “I admit, the memory of our loss was still fresh in the mind, so I gently encouraged the story to be abridged. However, I also think that ultimately, the story itself worked better without all that baggage. I wanted it to be about ponies triumphing over their own differences, not about ancient alicorns and malevolent artifacts.”
“Speaking of,” Painwheel said, drawing all eyes back to her, “what happened to your Skull Heart, Princess?”
“Yeah...yeah, I'm wondering that too,” Twilight said, nodding. “Is the Skull Heart still around?”
“...well, that takes things a little closer to the present,” Celestia said, coughing into her hoof. “It happened roughly one thousand years ago...with the rise of Discord...”
Somewhere, relaxing in his purely theoretical easy chair in the Deep Dreaming, the avatar of chaos sneezed.
“Precisely,” Celestia nodded. “Today, he's reformed his evil ways...thanks mostly to our own Fluttershy...”
“Oh, it was nothing,” Fluttershy said softly, blushing. She turned her face away.
Adorable, Painwheel thought on impulse, staring wide-eyed at the Pegasus.
“...but a thousand years ago, Discord was very much the malevolent spirit of disorder,” Celestia continued. “With his great power, it was easy for him to conquer Equestria and warp it in his own senseless image. Luna and I were powerless to stop him.”
“So that's when ya'll got the Elements of Harmony, right Princess?” Applejack said.
“Really powerful magical items,” Fluttershy whispered in Painwheel's ear. The latter nodded, deciding that explanation would suffice.
“Eventually yes,” Celestia said, “but not right away. We didn't even know the Elements existed at the time. As such, we scoured the land, looking for aid. At first, we tried to find the great wizards of Equestria, but, save for Starswirl the Bearded, none remained that were not engulfed by the chaos or driven mad, or both. And Starswirl the Bearded was too busy using his magic to protect his laboratory from Discord's magic to be able to aid us.
“From there, we traveled far North, to the Crystal Empire, where Discord's influence was weak.” Celestia shook her head sadly. “But when we arrived, we found not a idyllic place, but one of tyranny. King Sombra had by that time succumbed to dark magic-induced megalomania, and became the iron-hoofed master atop of kingdom of crystal slaves. We asked anyway, but Sombra considered the troubles of Equestria not his problem, and demanded we leave him forever.” Celestia sighed, looking forlornly into the middle distance.
“Princess?” Twilight asked, eyebrow raised.
“Is something the matter, your majesty?” Rarity said, leaning forward.
“What?” Celestia started, returning from miles away. “Oh, it's nothing...we vowed that, once Equestria was free from Discord, we would return and free the Crystal Ponies.
“From there, we had troubles. We traveled to Zebrica, the Griffin kingdoms, and Saddle Arabia, looking for somepony – anypony or otherwise – who could aid us. One Griffin noble...the Earl of St. Feathersburg, as I recall...offered to rally his armies to retake Equestria, but we declined. Military might had little power against chaos incarnate.
“...any finally, sitting in Saddle Arabia, almost without hope...the subject of the Skull Heart came up...”
Many Years Ago
“WHAT IS THY WISH?”
Celestia stepped forward, looking the flaming heart-skull right in the glowing eye sockets. A shudder ran through her back, seeing it for the first time in so, so long.
“Would...that I couldst wish for the resolution of our blight,” Celestia said, measuring her words with great care. “Would it be so easy that I wish away the mad Draconiquous that rules Equestria. That the chaos tyrant be banished or defeated, or that we possessed the might to topple him.” She looked backwards, motioning to Luna. “My dearest sister would have it thus; have an end of Discord.”
Luna sighed, then shut her eyes, hanging her head.
The white alicorn turned back to the Skull Heart. “Yet...this cannot be so.”
“OH?”
“Verily yes,” Celestia said. “We knowest thy tricks, Skull Heart, thy bitter wage. Thy price for a wish so selfish. Wouldst we not trade one tyrant for another? A King of Chaos for a Queen of the Dead?”
“SURELY THOU SEEKEST SOMETHING, SAGELING, ELSE THOU WOULDST NOT APPEAR HERE. DOST THOU HAVE A DIFFERENT WISH? OR DOST THOU THINKEST THOU WOULD SLAY ME?”
“A wish I have, Skull Heart,” Celestia said, stretching up taller. “But before that, a declaration.”
“SPEAK IT THEN, SAGELING.”
“We...” Celestia swallowed hard. She paused, taking a few deep breaths. Behind her, Luna shuffled on her feet, agitated. But the dark blue alicorn stood firm again. It relieved Celestia. “...I...forgive thee, Skull Heart.”
“...WHAT?”
“I forgive thee for what thou hast done,” Celestia continued, looking resolutely at the artifact. “Our parents, whom we loved, perished in their involvement with thee. For this, I have every cause to hate thee.
“But mine hatred is petty, and ultimately useless,” Celestia continued, cracking a smile for the first time. “It is in thy nature to deal so, just as it is the nature of Discord to sow chaos where he may. I even see the logic by which thou punishes the selfish, though I loath its results. What I want, and what I need, are different fundamentally. In order to have what I need, I must giveth up what I desire...and let go of mine hatred.
“I forgive thee, Skull Heart. And I wish thou to leave.”
…
…
…
“WHAT!?”
Celestia spread her wings, reaching deep within herself. Drew in a great quantity of breath, releasing it in the great, sagely Alicorn Voice, “Skull Heart! In my name, Celestia, I wish thee banished!”
“NO!”
“I wish thee to leave this world, and darken it no more!” She reared up, casting her command upon the cursed item.
“I COULD GIVE THEE ANYTHING! THOU WOULDST WASTE A WISH UPON THIS?”
The wind blew around, kicking up dust everywhere. The flames of the Skull Heart whipped about, as did Celestia's pastel colored hair. He eyes glowed golden bright. “For the good of Equestria, and all living things upon the face of this planet, and all who dwell among the stars and the circles of heaven!”
“NO! PLEASE STOP! DO NOT DO THIS TO ME! I BEG THEE!”
“I WISH THEE GONE, SKULL HEART, NEVER TO RETURN!”
“NNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOO!”
The Skull Heart's blue flames flared up, expanding into an enchanted inferno. The two alicorns staggered back, retreating from the circle of stones.
“CURSE THEE, PONYKIND! CURSE THEE!”
The conflagration contracted suddenly, as the Skull Heart launched into the sky like a rocket. It flew higher and higher, leaving a trail of fire and smoke in its wake. A great cloud of dust spilled out from the launch point, forcing the alicorns to take flight over it.
As they flapped in place, high above the dust, they watched the fireball retreat to the sky. The overcast sky opened above the artifact as it exploded. The great blue sky shone over the dark blue flames, a hundred meters wide. Finally, a bright rainbow erupted from the center, sucking the flames rapidly into it.
In mere seconds, all of the Skull Heart disappeared, leaving not but a clear heavenly roof.
“Has that done it, sister?” Luna called over the rushing winds.
“There is no manner of knowing certainly,” Celestia said, eyes still locked on the sky. After a moment, she sighed, then turned around. She starting flying back.
Luna hurried to follow. “Now what, Celestia? The Skull Heart was our only lead. How wilt we stop Discord now?”
“I don't know, Luna,” Celestia said. She set her sights towards home. “We must simply find another way.”
Present Day
“RRRAAAGH!”
Painwheel jumped up, seizing Princess Celestia by the neck and lifting her off the ground.
“Land sakes!”
“Oh my goodness!”
“Great Heavens!”
“Painwheel!” Twilight shouted, jumping to her hooves. “What do you think you're...?”
“YOU!”
Princess Celestia stared wide-eyed at the human, choking slightly.
“You did it!” Painwheel growled, enraged. “It was you!”
“Ugh...gulp...” Celestia sputtered. A royal hoof touched the wrist of the grasping hand, seeking instinctively for leverage.
The Buar Drive came to life, spinning rapidly and whipping to and fro. The entire group of ponies backed off fearfully.
“She's gone mad, again!” Rainbow Dash exclaimed.
“She's not mad, Rainbow Dash,” Fluttershy said, cowering in the corner. “She's just angry...really, really angry.” A shiver went down the pegasi's spine.
Painwheel released a harsh, guttural growl, her blades stopping. Her eyes, black and red, bored into the alicorn diarch. “Because of you...because of you!” Painwheel barked, lifting the Princess even higher. “My world...everyone who suffered...how I suffered! It was you all along! Because of your wish, the Skullgirls came to my world!”
“Painwheel please!” Rarity screamed, tears running down her face.
“Painwheel, we don't know that for sure!” Twilight said, minding the glittering pinwheel blades and swayed in the library's light. “There might be a million worlds out there with a million Skull Hearts! There's no reasons to think-”
“N-no.”
The room fell silent. Even Painwheel paused, surprised.
Princess Celestia pulled on the human's arm, writhing in her grip. She met Painwheel's eyes with a serious expression. “I make no...ugh...excuses. That my wish...had merely s-sloughed off Equestria's problem on another innocent world was a possibility I knew all too well. But perchance...given the weight of the decision...what would you have a princess do?”
Painwheel scowled, but she remained unsure. “What?”
“Twilight is right...there was no way of knowing...if there were other worlds the Skull Heart would find upon leaving Equestria,” Celestia continued, planting her back feet on the ground and standing. She allowed the human to continued holding her. “Now, it is obvious...what would happen...but hindsight is meaningless to one trapped at the moment of decision, when the weight of responsibility is one her shoulders. I feared that the Skull Heart...would attach itself to another world...but I had my own to consider.
“As we traveled to where the Skull Heart lay, Luna and I...guh...found perhaps a dozen ponies traveling too...refugees from Equestria...seeking the old country...” She gulped, shifting beneath the weary fingers so as to relieve her pained neck. “They all...knew the old stories...that the Skull Heart could grant any wish. Were we to leave the Skull Heart where it lay, somepony else might have called upon it...
“Given the urgency of the moment, the possibility of some unknown third party getting the Skull Heart, and no way of knowing if banishing it would inflict the Skull Heart on another world...” Celestia stared down at Painwheel, locking eyes. “...would you have the strength to choose, as I did...and choose the only right thing you were sure of?”
Painwheel's fingers released the straining neck. She watched the alicorn settle on her haunches again, that snow-white neck displaying not a single actual bruise.
The human fell to her knees, a guilty, horrified look on her face. She clasped her hands over it. Would I choose the right thing? She gasped, shuddering. No, she thought, because I had the chance, and wanted nothing more than to destroy.
Approaching slowly, Celestia placed a hoof gently on Painwheel's shoulder. “Regardless, I'm deeply sorry for what I did,” she said, cooing away the small sobs issuing from the tortured human. “You and your world suffered horribly, for which I am likely to blame. For this, no mere apology can ever be enough.”
“Princess Celestia...” Twilight said nearby, frowning. The others couldn't find anything to say.
For a while Painwheel allowed that subtle contact of hoof to shoulder. Eventually, she rose to her feet, eyes downcast. “I'm...tired...” she mumbled, trudging out of the circle of cushions. Nopony in the group made to follow her.
When she reached the basement, she found Spike downstairs. He hastily fussed with a bed laid out in the middle of the room. “Oh! Painwheel! I've got the spare bed...almost made up,” he said, eyes darting across the disheveled bedspread.
“That's okay...” Painwheel muttered, descending the stairs. “It's fine how it is...I'm just...so tired...” Her feet ached – not that much of her body didn't ache all the time – and she shuffled towards the bed.
“...alright...” Spike said, passing her on the way out, handing her a pillow as he did. “Goodnight, Painwheel!”
Painwheel barely moaned a response as she collapsed on the mattress, face-first. The Buar Drive clattered to the floor, settling propped against the side of the bed.
Upstairs, the group meeting began to dissolve.
“Ugh...ow...hey Fluts, mind if I crash at your place for the night?” Rainbow Dash asked, limping across the room. “Docs said I shouldn't fly for a while. Not that I couldn't, of course...ugh...but you know how those doctors can be...”
“Of course you can stay with me, Rainbow Dash!” Fluttershy said, smiling softly. “I'll have Angel Bunny make up the guest bed. I can even make my special oat pancakes for breakfast!”
Nearby, Rarity helped Applejack to the door. She didn't even mind how messy it made her. She'd already resigned herself to needing a full spa appointment the next day anyway. “Applebloom is staying at my home, Applejack, ever since they came in telling me about all this...terrible...disgusting undead business.” She shuddered, sticking out her tongue. “She, Sweetie, and Scootaloo are staying for the night. Don't need anypony, especially fillies, waltzing about at night. Nor seeing the kind of mess that Pain...that got made...”
“Sure, sure, that's fine,” Applejack said, trying not to grunt in pain. Ever since Painwheel showed up, the farmpony became considerably more cognizant of how good she had it, even working the farm. She supposed even what she felt at the moment was chump change by comparison. “Though Ah'd prefer to see her myself before the night's over.”
“I know that feeling,” Rarity chimed, smiling.
Deeper in the library's main room, Twilight was about to have a final word with Princess Celestia. However, a pink party pony popped up behind her.
“Hey Twilight, can I ask you something really quick?” Pinkie Pie said.
“Huh? Sure, Pinkie Pie,” Twilight said, taken aback, “what is it?”
“I'm gonna be needing parchment tomorrow,” Pinkie Pie explained, “but I'm sure I don't have enough. Can I borrow some of yours?” She smiled wide in that manner only a pleading Pinkie Pie could.
“Oh? Parchment?” Twilight said, still bewildered. “Yeah, that's fine. There's some in a basket upstairs next to the desk.” She pointed topwards, to the loft where she usually slept, and where she kept her main work desk. “What for, exactly?”
“You'll see!” Pinkie Pie said, forelegs already loaded with a half-dozen rolls of parchment. “Tomorrow! You'll see tomorrow! Bye!” She dashed off, a very sly smile on her face.
Twilight Sparkle gaped, then shook her head. Pinkie Pie being Pinkie Pie. Returning her attention to the matter at hand, she said, “Princess? Might I have a word?”
“Certainly, Twilight,” Princess Celestia said, finishing off the last drops of tea from her bowl. “You're a Princess yourself. You may always speak to me.”
“With what you said, princess, earlier...” Twilight began, padding the wooden floor nervously, “...do you really think...you were...I mean...that the Skull Heart you banished was the same that ravaged Painwheel's world?”
“I can see this bothers you immensely,” Celestia said, sadly. “You've experienced what Painwheel has, and know the kind of fear such a creature presented to her people.”
Twilight nodded.
“...there is a certain risk that one must always endure, when one is in a position of authority...or responsibility,” Celestia said, stepping closer to Twilight. “You will learn this more as you grow into your role as Princess, but sometimes we make decisions that, by every measure, are completely moral, just, and rational...that turn out to be the wrong choice later on. Or that have unintended, unforeseen consequences. Truly, I do not know if they are the same Skull Heart...
“What I do know is that we cannot become paralyzed with fear, my dearest former student,” Celestia continued, raising her head and looking at the ceiling. “The future, even for those with certain edges on what might occur, is always mysterious. Always open to the unexpected, or the unexpectable. We're limited, even you and I, and have only our principles, our reason, and the wise council of friends to inform our decisions. To make a choice, and it turn out badly in the end, is not a mortal – or immortal – sin. To do nothing for fear of doing wrong is a terrible waste. It helps nothing and nopony. Do you understand?”
“I think so, Princess,” Twilight said, smiling. Considering a few thoughts, she said, “I think the Skull Heart was never in Equestria to begin with, at least when Painwheel arrived. She felt something tug at her when she entered our world, and the Skull Heart was gone from her.”
The Day diarch considered this, nodding. “My wish was strong, I think. 'Leave, and never return'. It might have left Painwheel in order not to violate that rule.” It troubled her that Painwheel apparently carried the Skull Heart in her, but perhaps that explained that feeling she got whenever the human was near.
“But if the Skull Heart was denied entry into our world,” Twilight wondered aloud, “where did it go? And how did it get to Painwheel's world in the first place?”
“Hmm...these are very good questions, Twilight,” Celestia hummed, tapping her chin thoughtfully.
A black gloved hand reached out and plucked the flaming heart-skull from the superuniversal void. The Skull Heart betrayed no expression, but seemed to blaze brighter at the familiar touch.
“There you are, Skully!” The woman with the glasses, clad in lingerie and little else, held the Skull Heart to her face. The great mouths on the sides of her torso hummed softly, one licking its chops. “We've been looking everywhere for you. Hey sister! I found it!”
The woman in a habit, with a literal hour glass figure, drifted over. “Good to hear,” she said, facing towards the Skull Heart without showing an eye.
“Skully was right where you said he was,” the other said, holding their prize aloft. “You were smart to check the same place we found him last time.” She tapped her head with a finger, grinning. “We should head back home, tell Mother we got our number one tool back.”
“Someone else is here,” the hourglass woman said, facing over her sister's shoulder.
“Huh?” the mouth woman said, looking over her shoulder as well. “Well this is a surprise. Haven't seen you around here, handsome. Come here often?”
The figure only smiled, bright white teeth peeking behind a sandy complexion and bristling facial hair. “Not often, I suppose,” he chanted, “though more all the times. I've got business with this world, seems fit for crimes, against nature, and man, and more besides. But most of all...”
Arms spread out wide. “...P. Rose sees fit to drop dope rhymes.”
“I heard it took a Sonic Rainboom to the face, and kept walking.”
“Didn't stop moving, even after it was cut to pieces!”
“Could hear it from the Everfree Forest. Hear it...screaming...”
“They let it out? Just like that?”
“...personally thanked by Princess Celestia herself. Can you believe it?”
“Going to be closed for weeks, not including the time it takes to replace the coffee maker.”
“I lost the keys to my apartment. Would have died last night, if that thing caught me!”
“Send a monster to kill a monster?”
“Saved Ponyville!”
“My son was dug up from his grave. Seeing that thing...knowing what it did with him...makes me sick.”
“Beat the thing when Princess Twilight and her friends couldn't!”
“Does she have a name?”
“Painwheel!”
Her muscles felt sore even before she shifted, causing the Gae Bolga to squirm. A dull ache, punctuated by sharp ones. “Mrrr...” she groaned, screwing up her face while digging it into the pillow. From the corner of her eye, she could see through clasped shut lids the dull red glow of light. She tried burying her face deeper, but that only elicited further complaints from her erstwhile internal companions.
“Painwheel...wake up...”
“...grrr...” she grumbled, hands turning to feel the bed beneath her. It felt soft under her fingers. Not that it stopped further minor pain from shooting up her arms with each movement.
“Hey Painwheel!”
“Tch.” Between the noise, the sunlight, and the agony of living, the human girl would obtain no more sleep. Annoying.
Reluctantly, Painwheel pushed against the bed, raising her torso up a few precious inches. Her neck ached, dull and sharp, as she turned it, peeking her face from against the pillow. Unnatural eyes blinked frantically, looking towards the source of the infernal sound. “...whaaaaat?” she whined, eyebrows knit irritably.
Spike the Dragon fidgeted in place. “Uh...it's almost four in the afternoon,” he said, frowning. “You've been sleeping an awfully long time.”
“...long night...” Painwheel mumbled, blinking slowly. “...fights are...exhausting...” An understatement, as far as she was concerned. She felt like taking another year to sleep.
Her traitorous belly whined audibly, causing her face to flush vividly. She cringed, sighing.
Spike smiled, stifling a chuckle. “I've got food ready upstairs, if you want it.” He walked back up the stairs from the basement.
“...ugh...fine.” Painwheel raised the Buar Drive from where it sat propped against the side of the bedpost. Deliberately, she crawled off the bed, stepping gingerly to the floor. It was cold, causing her to take her feet back, but winced with the pain that induced. Finally, she bit the bullet, and clamored off, making her way gradually out of the basement, hunched over to the point of practically crawling on all fours.
She felt profoundly tired. Scaling the stairs was akin to climbing a mountain.
“More toast?”
“Mm hmm.”
At least her hand remained steady as it shoveled pancake and peas into her mouth. She smacked loudly, savoring the taste. Between the pain and the generous helpings of maple syrup, Painwheel felt she might just wake up for real.
Lucky me, she thought grimly.
Spike handed her another slice of toast, then set about washing the skillet. “So...are you excited, Painwheel?” he asked.
Painwheel swallowed hard. “Excited?”
“For the party!” Spike said, waving a hand in the air. “The party Pinkie Pie is throwing you. It's on today. Heck, I think it's starting in an hour.”
Scowl. “There's still going to be a party?” she asked, trying to chop off pieces of pancake with a fork. “After everything that happened?”
“What can I say?” Spike said, shrugging. “Pinkie Pie won't let disasters stop her from throwing a party, especially if it's in honor of someone new to town.” He tapped one of the crests atop his head. “If anything,” he mumbled, “Pinkie seemed more determined when last I saw her.”
“I'm not going.”
Spike looked over his shoulder. He noticed that Painwheel had stopped playing with her food altogether. “Really?”
“Really,” Painwheel said, nodding. “I don't feel like going to a party. Don't feel like...doing anything...”
The dragon frowned, considering it. “Well, I hate to make you do something you don't feel up to doing...but I think you have to go.”
“I hardly think I 'have' to go, Spike,” Painwheel said, licking a drop of syrup that got on her fork. “I don't 'have' to do anything.”
“Maybe...but I think you will go.”
She looked over to him, ogling the dragon with her red and black eyes. “What makes you say that?”
“Aside from that I think it'll be good for you to get out of the library and doing things,” Spike said, dropping the last of the dishes in the soapy sink, “I don't think you have much of a choice.”
“Why?” Painwheel said, raising an eyebrow.
“Because I know Pinkie Pie,” Spike explained. “I've known her for a little while now. Her special talent is throwing parties. She is Ponyville's resident Greatest Party Pony. She's the bearer of the Element of Laughter...or was anyway...” Spike mumbled that last bit.
“And?”
“And...I've had time to figure her out,” Spike continued. He scratched the back of his head. “Not as much as I wish I did, but I know the mare. She won't leave this alone. When Twilight and I were still new, Pinkie invited Twilight to some party or another; I forget what. When she found out Twilight was 'too tired' to show up, Pinkie brought the party to her.”
“You think she'll show up here and try to get me to go?” Painwheel asked, shifting in her seat. “No offense, but I can survive her nagging...”
“No, Painwheel, you don't get it.” Spike waved his clawed hands in front of him. “When I said Pinkie brought the party to Twilight, I mean that literally. She packed the entire shindig up, guests and decorations and all, and moved them to the library. And that's when Pinkie was just trying to do something good for her new friend. You're really new, and Pinkie hasn't thrown you a party yet. And it's your party. If she finds out you're not coming to your own party, she'll happily move the whole thing over here.”
The human leaned back, mouth agape. “Are you fucking with me?”
“No! I'm not!” Spike held either side of his face, anxious. “Pinkie Pie takes parties seriously. If you don't come, she'll take the party to you.”
Painwheel gulped, eyes wide. She had not considered that possibility. Scratching her face, she shrank a little. “Mrr...” she whined.
“Plus,” Spike said, raising an index talon, “Rarity worked really hard on that dress. You don't want to disappoint her, do you?”
“...no...” Fidgeting in the chair, Painwheel looked away.
“Okay then!” The dragon walked across the kitchen, reaching up to pat Painwheel gingerly on the knee. “So why don't you wash up, and change into that dress, and we'll head out. Can you do that?”
“...okay...”
Wiping away the crumbs from her lips, Painwheel rose from the chair and wandered out. With Spike pointing towards the bathroom, she made her way upstairs.
At least scaling these stairs was easier.
??? Years Ago
“You gotta get me out of here, man! Come on!”
“Believe me, I despise your internment as much as you.”
“Oh, forgive me for doubting that. You're not the one stuck here!”
“I meant in principle. This kind of thing disgusts me to my very core.”
“Then help me out!”
“Can't. This is some powerful magic sealing you. Deep magic. Not even I have the power to break you out. Especially since...well...you heard what will happen if I try.”
“'I'm my own greatest warden.' Son of a-”
“Indeed. If I try getting you out, you'll be forced to defend your own seal. And if the two of us go at it...that's all she wrote.”
“There's gotta be something you could do!”
“I have some ideas. It will involve shenanigans, but it might work.”
“Then get to it already!”
“This might take time. And I'm on a busy schedule as it is.”
“You're not going to just leave me here! We had a deal!”
“Don't worry, I'll be back. I shouldn't be long.”
He was very long in returning.
Present Day
Other than the occasional worker hauling away bits of shattered masonry, the streets of Ponyville were curiously deserted. Any number of things could account for it, as far as Painwheel could tell. Dust was a fair problem, since the battle kicked up a fair amount. Not strange for Ponyville citizens to avoid it by not walking around outside.
Construction and recovery efforts worked full bore that day, so perhaps the townsponies left to get away from it. Or perhaps the possible threat of further monster attacks compelled them to seek a vacation.
Or, Painwheel surmised ruefully, word got out she would be heading through town, and nopony wanted to be on the streets during that time.
Painwheel scowled, though partly for her aching limbs than anything.
“We're almost there, Painwheel,” Spike said, leading the human along by the hand.
They turned the corner, leading to a shop constructed in the manner of a massive pastry. On a delicately painted sign, it was written “Sugarcube Corner”. However, as they approached, it became clear the lights were all out inside. Spike tapped his chin quizzically. “That's weird. I thought it would be...” Stepping closer, he picked up a note attached to the shop entrance. “'Spike, we've moved the party to town hall. Love, Pinkie Pie.' Huh. Weird.” He turned back towards Painwheel. “Guess we're not there yet.”
“Mmmmrrr...” Painwheel groaned, eyes narrowing. She hopped from one foot to the other, wishing she could just sit down. As she followed again, Painwheel thought she heard the flapping of wings nearby. However, looking around revealed nothing.
They traveled even farther, but eventually found their way to the town hall. The sun was setting, and dipped behind a building by the time they reached it. Curiously, the windows were all dark in the town hall as well.
There wasn't a note on the door this time. “What the hay is going on here?” Spike said, scratching the back of his head. He seemed to pause in thought, then led Painwheel by the hand to the door. “Guess we better check inside, just to be safe.”
“Uh...” Painwheel said, puzzled.
The door squeaked softly when they entered. Beyond it hung darkness.
“Uuuuh...”
Spike led the way into the room. Painwheel looked around, as if to see in the dark room. All of a sudden, Spike released her hand.
“Ah!” Painwheel gasped, clutching at the empty air. She looked behind her, only to see the door swing shut, plunging the entryway into shadow. She cringed, hugging her arms to her chest. Painwheel looked out into black. “...Spike...?”
The lights came on suddenly.
“SURPRISE!” cheered the entire town, or thereabouts.
Painwheel jumped backwards, the Buar Drive spinning up. Her red and black eyes wide, darting around the large crowd. Sweat dripped down her brow.
Her heart raced, muscles tensed. Coiling thorns inside her body wriggled excitedly, digging into muscle. Adrenaline flooded her system, preparing fatigued muscles for flight. Or a fight.
“Heavens dear, it's alright!” Rarity jumped from the crowd and approached the human, cooing softly. She wore a beautiful dress of her own design. A single lock of hair was out of place. She ignored it. “Painwheel sweetie, it's just a party. You're safe.”
“S-s-safe?” Painwheel stuttered, eying the assembled ponies. A few near the front of the pack looked on with unease, but they visibly relaxed when Painwheel stopped the blade spinning. She even spotted a few that dug hooves uncomfortably into their ears, wincing. Painwheel breathed rapidly, arms splayed out and knees bent. She looked to Rarity.
“Yes, dear, you're perfectly safe here,” Rarity repeated, placing a hoof gently on Painwheel's shoulder. The hoof specifically avoided touching the prominent nail-like protrusions. “Sorry for startling you. Somepony...” She looked back to the crowd, spotting a particular pink ball of fur. She scowled, “...decided to turn this into a surprise party...that you were already aware of...” Rarity began cursing under her breath, “Really, of all the...”
“Ah told ya that was a dang fool idea,” Applejack said, looking down upon the resident party pony as the latter slunk down to the ground. As if to accentuate the point, Applejack konked her on the head.
“Ouch!” Pinkie Pie exclaimed, rubbing her noggin. She smiled sheepishly. “He he, sorry!”
“For the sake of our friendship, Pinkie, I'm going to chalk up that little faux pax to having spent so little time with our special guest,” Rarity continued, wrapping a foreleg around Painwheel's trembling arm. “Otherwise you would know how high strung she was.”
“Yeah...oops...” Pinkie Pie said, eyes downcast. Her hair threatened to deflate at the rate she was going.
“...um, it's alright...” Painwheel said, finally collecting herself and standing upright. She waved a hand out. “Really.”
“R-really?” Pinkie said, sniffing. “You mean it?”
“...I...guess?”
“Then let's get this party back on!” Pinkie shouted, leaping to her hooves with a new spring in her step. Nopony noticed it made Painwheel flinch slightly. “Music back on!”
The entire crowd, watching curiously at the exchange, resumed their revelry. In the distance, a unicorn wearing sunglasses at night placed records on the table and struck the hall up with a dance tune. The unicorn bobbed her head to the beat, smiling all the way.
“Well, darling, shall we take advantage of your fashionably late arrival?” Rarity asked, hugging the human's arm.
Painwheel gulped, looking around uneasily.
“Don't worry, we've already informed everypony present that you are not to be swamped.” Rarity smiled, patting Painwheel's hand gingerly. “How about it?”
The human looked over to Spike, who already shoveled appetizers into his mouth. He looked back at her, guilty expression on his face, but Painwheel just frowned doubtfully. She looked at her feet, then inhaled; exhaled. “...okay...”
Two Years Ago
Carol nursed punch quietly, doing what she always did at parties: support the wall. In large numbers, her fellow students danced and mingled while a jazz band played.
She fidgeted in place. She thought sadly, what am I doing here? I should just leave already.
“Mind if I join you?”
It took a second for Carol to realize the question addressed her. “Huh? What?” she said quizzically.
One of her classmates stood nearby, leaning forward, hands clasped behind her back. She smiled warmly, long blonde hair hanging from her upturned face. “I asked if I could join you, sitting against the wall. I hope you don't mind.”
“Oh, no, I don't mind,” Carol said, shaking her head fiercely. Side-stepping to make room, she kept her eyes fixed on the girl.
“Thanks,” the girl said, face beaming. Her shapely chassis leaned against the free section of wall. “I thought it would be better, but this party turned out to be a bit of a drag.” She cupped the back of her head with a hand, and sighed. “And from the looks of it, you aren't enjoying it either, right?”
“Um...no, not really,” Carol admitted, staring down into her punch glass.
“Thought so.” The girl looked towards the dancing throng. Upbeat tunes blasted from the band's instruments, sending couples into Lindy Hops and Charlestons and even one or two tangos. Anyone present who wasn't dancing was packed into tight circles of gossip. Noisy gossip. Unless they were at the wall, and alone like Carol. At least until this girl arrived. She turned back towards Carol, catching the wallflower in the middle of staring, “say, you want to ditch this joint? My dogs are barking from all the standing...and uh...” The girl leaned close, glancing around for eavesdroppers, “...between you, me, and the wall, I'm kind of sick of talking like a flapper. Can't a girl just speak English, am I right?”
“He he, yeah,” Carol said, finally cracking a smile. “I'd be happy to go. I was just thinking of leaving myself.” Another look down at her drink, which she just decided to chug in one go.
“That's the ticket,” the girl giggled, hooking an arm under Carol's. When this elicited a squeak from Carol, the girl tugged gently. “Don't worry, I'm not taking you for a ride or anything, except in the literal way. I got a jitney waiting outside.”
“A what?”
“It's a car. Don't worry, I didn't get that for a while either.”
As the girl led her towards the door, Carol felt a number of eyes watching her. The girl seemed to notice it too, and looked over her shoulder towards the crowd. A grave expression flashed briefly across her face.
Carol looked back as well, noting how a number of students were all collectively avoiding looking at the two. “Uh...”
“Just some gawkers,” the girl said, smile returning to her face, “pay them no mind. They won't bother us. So...where you want to go?”
“Sounds great!” the girl said, sounding unusually but sincerely happy. “Hey, what's your name?”
“Carol. My name is Carol.”
“Filia,” the girl said, opening the door to let the two young ladies leave.
“Filia...” Carol said, eyes going wide as mental connections snapped into place. “F-Filia M-Medici?”
“...if you don't mind,” the girl said, looking sidelong towards Carol, “can I just be Filia? Is that okay?”
“...okay!” Carol smiled, clutching Filia's arm harder. “Nice to meet you, Filia!” Carol never felt happier to leave a party.
Present Day
Painwheel never felt more apprehensive entering a party.
Then again, she hardly remembered actually walking into the heart of a party.
“This is Mister and Missus Cake,” Rarity said, holding Painwheel's arm. “They run Sugarcube Corner. It's that lovely sweets shop the party was going to be held in until recently.”
“Hello,” Painwheel said in a gravely tone, bowing despite her sore and parasite-ridden back.
“Nice to meet you, Miss Painwheel,” Mr. Cake said, visibly relaxing. If he was put off by Painwheel's appearance, her politeness put him at ease. “Right, honey?”
“Oh yes, it's an absolute pleasure,” Mrs. Cake said, nodding. “Pinkie Pie told us so much about you.”
“Really?” Painwheel asked, confused.
“Oh yes, she works for us, and couldn't stop talking about how excited she was for this party.”
“Some would say a little too excited,” Mr. Cake said, “nearly impossible to get the little ones to nap with all her talking. Even more than usual.”
“By the way, Wheelie!” Pinkie Pie said, cartwheeling into view, a move that made the human flinch. “Do you like the pinwheels? I thought I had enough, but then we changed venues and I had to buy a gazillion more on short notice to fill out the space.”
For the first time, Painwheel examined the surroundings aside from the mass of ponies. Aside from streamers and such standard fare for parties, the meeting hall was absolutely bedecked in pinwheels. Pinwheels on walls, pinwheels on tables, pinwheels hanging from the ceiling. Pinwheels of many sizes and colors. Of pinwheels, no shortage existed.
And then there were the flowers. Galax, Statice, Wisteria, and Yellow Roses* stood out the most of the multitude of flowers likely chosen arbitrarily. Points for effort, if nothing else. “Hmm...”
“Oh, I'm just glad we could still cater this shindig,” Mrs. Cake said, giggling. “It was a miracle getting all the food baked, though. Double the original amount, and we're still running low.”
“At least we won't have to clean this one up,” Mr. Cake added, elbowing his wife in the side. “Eh? Eh?” The two laughed.
Painwheel felt a pang of sadness in her heart. These two were parents. Further, they reminded her a bit of her own parents.
“Speaking of food!” Pinkie Pie said, hopping back into view. Painwheel hadn't even seen her leave. The earth pony balanced a plate of colorful pink-and-white cake. She grabbed it with her hooves, stretching it towards the human. “Have some cake, Wheelie. I know you'll love it! It's a Cake cake!”
Oh brother, Painwheel thought, but took the cake nonetheless. She'd been impolite enough throughout her stay in Ponyville, justified though she was. Moreover, the cake made her mouth water. Watching Pinkie Pie stand there, holding out the plate, smiling expectantly, Painwheel's hands could do little but seize the confection. “T-thank you,” Painwheel said, scarcely waiting before breaking off a piece and stuffing it into her mouth.
“So? How is it?”
Painwheel had no words. Lucky break, since she wouldn't talk with her mouth full regardless. She merely shut her weary eyes and let pure taste envelope her. Allow her to experience something...other than the pain for once.
“I think she likes it,” Rarity chimed in, noting Painwheel's blissful expression.
Heaven.
He's late, it thought.
It waited in the dark, as it had for time untold. Ages upon ages, year after year. No true measure of time, in absolute terms. Just it and the empty shadows.
To live forever in shadow would once have appealed to the being. How naïve it had been, mistaking shadows for True Darkness. Lonely darkness.
He's late, it thought. I know not by how long, but he's terribly late.
It sighed; a rogue echo rebounded across the walls of its prison. Once upon an age, it tried to entertain itself by bouncing echos against the walls. As is appropriate for such extended internments, of course, conversations with a mirror of oneself prove very quickly boring.
How it wished a being like itself could stare into the unchanging dark long enough to start hallucinating. Like the old philosopher ponies used to do. But it had no eyes, in the traditional sense.
He's late, it thought.
Hell.
“Do those nails hurt?”
“Yes, but they're not-”
“Was the monster as scary up close at it sounded?”
“It was-”
“Are you going to be the new guardian of Ponyville?”
“I don't think-”
“Where do you come from?”
“I-”
“Are there going to be any more monsters showing up?”
“My friend wanted to know if that buzz-saw could cut through steel.”
“Would you be interested in a modeling contract?”
Whatever apprehension kept them at bay earlier broke down shortly after she met the Cakes. Now Painwheel was swamped by curious ponies.
They were invading her personal space. Her heart raced and muscles tensed; she ended up grunting and flinching as stress pain racked her arms and legs.
“P-please...can you all just...back up...please?” Painwheel stammered, choking back pained grunts. Sweat rolled down her skin, and she found herself retreating more and more, wrapping trembling hands around her arms and dipping low. “R-Rarity? Where are you?”
“Excuse me.”
Few realized it when Fluttershy flapped into view, flying over the heads of some ponies and landing as close to Painwheel as she could.
“Where did you get that dress?”
“Um, if I could have everypony's attention,” Fluttershy said softly.
“Why are your eyes that color?”
“I don't think you all should be crowding her like that.”
“Can I get your autograph?”
“Stop!”
The small crowd of ponies halted, looking towards the yellow pegasus who had yelled...softly, somehow. Painwheel looked to Fluttershy, body shaking.
“Now everypony, I know you have a lot to ask,” Fluttershy said, moving towards Painwheel. Ponies politely parted for the pegasus. “But you're making Painwheel very uncomfortable. Trust me, I know.” Fluttershy placed a hoof lightly onto the flat of one of the Buar Drive's blades. “We should all leave her alone now, so she has time to breath. Can you all do that?” She smiled warmly. “Pretty please?”
The assembled ponies looked to each other, then quietly dispersed, save for a few who muttered barely audible apologies to Painwheel as they passed.
Painwheel breathed a sigh of relief. “T-thank you.”
“Oh, it's really nothing,” Fluttershy said, shaking her head. “I mean, I guess it was a little intense to stand up to everypony and say that, but...but I really do know how it feels.”
“Punch?”
Fluttershy squeaked, falling over. Painwheel looked over her shoulder, seeing Pinkie Pie with a tray of punch glasses balanced on her fluffy tangle of a mane.
“...sure?” Painwheel responded, taking the offered punch glass. “Um, if you two don't mind...I'd like to be alone for...a few minutes...” She sipped from the glass – lemony sweet – and made for the nearest wall. Her sore feet reduced her to a hobbling gait.
So tired, she thought, politely waving to party guests as she shuffled. I just hope that was the worst of it. That these ponies decide to leave me be, finally.
“Where is she?”
Twilight Sparkle looked up from the punch bowl, startled. “Bwha?”
“The human!” Lyra said, dancing excitedly in place. A wide, toothy smile extended across her face, her eyes locked on the alicorn princess. “I can't wait to see her!”
Weary fingers combed through sweat-drenched hair. Maybe it was the weather, or the press of equine bodies collected in one indoor location. Regardless, it was intolerably warm.
Heap that upon intolerably loud, intolerably crowded, and intolerably painful. Painwheel gulped gratefully the punch in her hand.
“Ugh...” Painwheel said, draining the chalice of golden ambrosia. She lamented it then being empty. She glanced towards the crowd, knowing a refill would necessitate navigating that living mass. “Mrr...”
“HimynameisLyrawhat'syours?”
She flinched, saying, “Huh? What?” Painwheel turned her head slowly, cocking it quizzically. Just behind her stood a unicorn. Mint of coat and adorned with a harp as a cutie mark, the unicorn grinned in a manner Painwheel scarcely thought possible. The unicorn practically vibrated with palpable excitement, she smiled so, eyes beaming wide and locked on the human.
The human. “I said my name is Lyra! Nice to meet you!” the unicorn chimed, extending both forehooves and grasping at Painwheel's hand. Ignoring Painwheel's yelp, Lyra continued breathlessly, “What's your name?”
Painwheel's entire body shook with the force of the hearty hand-hoofshake. “I...uh...P-Painwheel...”
“So Painwheel...are you a human?” Lyra said, finally letting Painwheel's hand go.
“Um...yes?” Painwheel said reservedly, clutching her hand and bearing the pain the parasites were kicking up in response to the jostling.
Hearing the response, Lyra lit up even more. “Eeeeeeeee! I knew it!” she squeed, bobbing up and down. Her eyes swept over Painwheel, absorbing every detail like a packer inspecting a piece of meat. "I mean, it's hard to mistake you for a pony, but you wouldn't believe how many times I've asked that to this creature or that, and they'd look at me like some sort of lunatic. Just last year..."
Painwheel gulped, mouth growing dry. She rubbed her temple, feeling a headache coming on. Eyes still were locked on the strange unicorn. A pall of dread settled over her.
“You think it was alright sending Lyra towards Painwheel?” Spike said.
Twilight Sparkle tapped her chin anxiously, craning her neck to peek over the crowd. On the clear other side of the room, she could barely make out the telltale swastika blades. “...uh...maybe?”
Spike scowled.
“Oh, don't give me that face,” Twilight said, cocking an eyebrow. “She's been cooped up in the library for weeks, with minimal contact. Humans are social creatures, just like ponies, so the exposure will do her good. Get her out of her shell. Lift her out of her funk.” Twilight forced a smile.
“She's been in more than a funk, Twilight,” Spike said, grabbing a pastry from the refreshment table and inhaling it. “Plus, a party seems too much too fast.”
“...granted...” Twilight said, rubbing the back of her head. “Blame Pinkie for the party, at least. I'm at least only sending individual ponies to Painwheel.”
“Oh, I blame Pinkie alright,” Spike mumbled, rolling his eyes.
Somewhere in the distance, a certain party pony felt a momentary flush of sadness. She shook her head and ordered the music louder, while simultaneously leading a group of party guests in a game of punch pong.
“I think she heard you,” Twilight said, looking out at the increasing revelry.
“Nevermind Pinkie Pie,” Spike said, waving a clawed hand. “Do you think it's okay to send Lyra to meet Painwheel?”
“We've known Lyra since we first got here, Spike,” Twilight said, tipping her head and donning a matronly smile. The gesture she often used with the baby dragon over the years she knew him. “She has a good head on her shoulders. An eccentric one, albeit, but good nonetheless.”
“Normally, yeah.” Spike pointed a claw towards the alicorn. “But...come on. You had to have noticed how, around Painwheel, she's...how do I put this?”
“...unusually exuberant?” Twilight said, frowning. Sweat droplets flowed down the side of her face. Was it hot in there, or was it just Twilight?
Spike tapped his nose twice with his index claw.
“...maybe we should go check up on them...”
“...are black fingernails common for humans? Because the book never said anything about that. The book didn't talk about a lot of things that I really wish it would. Like what plants they eat, or how they keep warm during winter without a coat of fur, or...”
“Ugh...”
Painwheel messaged her temples with both hands, a pounding headache developing in her cranium. It pulsed in her head in time with the pulsing of the bass that racked the building. A bizarre, alien noise that passed for music among these people, created from instruments foreign to Painwheel's ear. Worse than the kind of wild, improvised Jazz native to her own world, for at least that came from brass horns, strummed strings, and ivory keys.
“...then my mom would catch me, but I kept on trying to perfect my ability to walk on my hind legs. It's harder than it looks; you make it seem so easy. Do you ever get tired standing like that all day? Oh, or maybe you've been doing it so long it's second nature! I had quite a conversation with a minotaur about the subject...”
“Yerrrr...”
Painwheel shifted from one foot to the other, the dull throb of aching feet complementing ill the throbbing of the music and the throbbing of her heart and her head and the parasites. She only allowed each foot a few seconds, before switching them out. She wanted to sit down, but she couldn't find any open chairs. Why were there so few chairs? There should be many chairs. It's a town hall!
“...I'm honestly surprised the library fine wasn't higher. I had it out for how long? Come to think of it, I'm surprised they let me graduate...”
Cripes, was this mare still talking? Painwheel looked over to...Lyra? Was that her name? Must have been, she had a harp on her flank. The mare was just talking away, eyes shut most of the time or wandering around the room, as if Painwheel wasn't even there.
Lyra, Painwheel thought, what am I to you? Am I just an excuse for you to gush about humans? Might I as well be a cardboard cutout?
“...should have copied it. I had it long enough...”
Painwheel couldn't even hear the mare most of the time, not over the talking everywhere else in the room. It was incessant. White noise that whispered or shouted in fragments.
Like the sound of the doctor barking orders in her head.
The human clapped a hand over her ear, trying to drown out the rest of the noise. But it would not be devitalized, not with everypony talking and talking and dancing to the beat of a weird composition, that sounded like the record was skipping. In the distance, she could hear whooping and cheering, but knew not why.
“...Bon Bon ate the entire platter! The whole thing! All the sweets were just gone! And boy was her face pale when she realized what she did. Paler than usual, mind, what with her cream-white fur and all. Well, I couldn't let her get in trouble, so when teach asked who did it, I...”
“Painwheel? Where are you?” came a voice somewhere in the distance.
“Huh?” Painwheel grunted, whipping her head around. She winced, the parasites complaining about the sudden movement. Writhing against muscle and bone; digging into her skull where they wrapped up to her head. “Argh!”
“Uh...” Lyra said, staring at Painwheel, “Are...are you okay?”
“Shut up.”
“What? I didn't catch that? Repeat please?”
“SHUT UP!” Painwheel screamed it in Lyra's face, then pushed the pony with both arms, sending the pony staggering back into the wall. “SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!”
To top it off, Painwheel threw her arms out and bellowed into the air, “AAAAAAAGH!” The Buar Drive spun, whipping wind up around her.
It was a moment before, gasping hot, humid air, Painwheel looked back towards Lyra. All the noise stopped, save Painwheel's ragged breaths. “Huff...puff...well! Can you hear me now?! Say something!” She barked it loud; she barely heard shuffling hooves moving away from her behind. Didn't notice, for the loud beating of her heart. “S-say...some...thing...”
Lyra Heartstrings flinched under the words, sinking to the ground against the wall. Frightened tears began forming in her eyes.
Painwheel's enraged scowl fell away. “...I...” Her mouth was agape. Seconds passed, then she clapped hands over her mouth. “Oh no...” she whispered, backing away.
She turned around. All around her, ponies stared. Many shook in terror, or barely remained standing on wobbly feet. All eyes were on her. No one said anything. The music wasn't playing anymore.
Among them was Twilight Sparkle, near the front. She stared sadly. “Painwheel...”
“...ah...I...” Painwheel said, hands clutched to her chest. “...I didn't mean...I...” She looked back down at Lyra, who started when looked upon. A great vice tightened in Painwheel's chest. “Oh no...oh...oh God...” She shook her head, slowly at first, then rapidly. Violently. In scant seconds, she was working herself into a fit. Tears rolled down her scarred cheeks. “I'm so sorry!” Her hands covered her face like the mask Painwheel once wore.
She bolted.
“Painwheel! Stop!” Twilight shouted, hoof stretched out towards the human's retreating form. But to no avail.
Painwheel was already out of the building, long gone. Leaving only tears in her wake.
“Anypony found her yet?”
Twilight Sparkle ran into the intersection, calling out to the many ponies running to and fro.
Rarity ran up with Golden Harvest. “We didn't find the poor dear around the shopping district,” Rarity said. She threw a foreleg over her head dramatically. “Oh if only I had stuck with her, instead of socializing! What a dilemma to have such grave consequences!”
Pinkie Pie poked her head out of a trashcan. “Wheelie's not in any of the garbage cans! I should know, I checked them all!”
“She wouldn't be in the garbage cans, Pinkie,” Spike said, running over, Written Word following close behind and panting. “For one thing, she can't fit her blades into one.”
“Yeah she could!” Pinkie Pie retorted, adjusting the can lid she wore as a hat. “I was paying attention during our fight, and she could collapse her...swisstika-whatzits.”
“Why would she even hide in the garbage, darling?” Rarity said, turning her nose up at the party pony. “Ooh, you reek!”
Twilight simply rolled her eyes.
Fluttershy flew from the sky and landed softly. “I couldn't see her, Twilight. It's just too dark, and there's so much ground to cover.”
“I know...” Rainbow Dash and Applejack hobbled down another street, both sporting bandages here and there. “Man, if only I could fly, I'd be able to zip around so fast! Find Painwheel in a heartbeat.”
“It's like she plum disappeared,” Applejack said, fanning herself with her hat. “Like she ain't even in Ponyville no more.”
Twilight considered this, tapping her chin. Not even in Ponyville?
“'smatter, sugar?” Applejack said, facing the alicorn. “Y'all think you got a lead with that brain of yers? Cause iffin Ah said something unintentional smart, you gotta tell me.”
“...maybe...” Twilight said, rubbing her head. Her wings fluttered, then began flapping. “I don't know if I'm right, so I need everypony to keep looking. I'm going to check something.” As everypony else nodded and set off in different directions, Twilight took to the air.
She headed north, out of town.
Twinkling pinpricks of light lit up the heavens, casting a soft glow upon the earth. On that earth, a vast field of flowers, waving gently in the night breeze. In that field there was a small hill, topped with a single tree.
A figure sat on the hill, backed by a metal whirlygig that reflected the rising moon. The figure's face was tucked into her knees. Quiet sobs wafted through the air.
Back where it all started. Twilight Sparkle touched down. “Painwheel?”
The human flinched, then tightened her grip around her legs. She buried her face deeper into her knees. “Go away!”
Twilight crept forward, head bowed low. “Painwheel...”
“...just...j-just go away...”
Taking a seat on the turf beside the human, Twilight faced the same direction, taking in the scenery. “...some view, huh?” she joked, chuckling shakily.
Painwheel remained still and silent – for a moment. Finally, a lone bloodshot, puffy eye peeked over bent knee. “...mmhmm...” she assented, glancing at the valley rich in cool colors and wavy blossoms. Then she buried her face again.
“...Painwheel, I'm so sorry,” Twilight said, expression dropping. “I know that means nothing coming from me, but I am sorry. And I'm here to help you.” She stared at the moon. When did she stop expecting to see the Mare in the Moon? “...Lyra is okay; you didn't hurt her, and she doesn't harbor any hard feelings. She was just shaken is all.”
Flinching, the human leaned away, peeking out to examine the ground next to her. Spotting a purple Hyacinth*, she reached out and uprooted it. It turned over and over in her grasp, letting her examine it by the moonlight. Her eyes glistened with moisture.
“Look, it was a mistake to force you to attend the party,” Twilight said. “You still haven't recovered from...everything...we'll take it slow from now on. Put you in less stressful situations. Maybe get you some professional help...” Twilight didn't really know where to go for a therapist who could handle human psychology, let alone of such severe trauma. But she would try, because playing it by ear really wasn't working. In lieu of expect advice, though, Twilight could only offer the support she could. “Painwheel, it's going to be okay.”
“It's not going to be okay!” Painwheel whined, clutching the hyacinth stem vigorously. “It's never going to be okay!”
“I know you're stressed...”
“No! You don't know!” Painwheel yelled. “You were in my head, but things have changed!” She gritted her teeth, shaking her head. “I'm...I'm...” Fresh tears began forming in her eyes. “I'm...scared...”
Ears drooped back. “Scared?” Twilight asked. Dots began to connect in her mind – Painwheel had gotten progressively worse since the mind probe, and Twilight hadn't been around to notice. But these merely raised more questions. “Painwheel, what are you scared of?”
Painwheel turned towards the alicorn. Tears streamed down her cheek. “I-I'm s-scared of myself!” she choked. Sniffing and sobbing, she drove herself into a bout of hiccups. Both hands clutched the flower. “When I was at the p-party...hic...every little thing...b-built up...hic...and I just exploded.” She rubbed an eye with the back of her hand, the metal band around her wrist clacking against her flesh. “The lights, the music, the crowds...the pain...hic...it was too m-much...
“And it's the pain, pain, Pain, Pain, PAIN!”
Twilight fell over backwards as the human thrashed, gripping her head and shaking violently. “Oh Sweet Celestia,” Twilight said, wide-eyed.
“Every day, it's always the pain. It never stops. Never stops.” Painwheel rubbed hard through her hair, droplets of salty liquid rolling off her chin. “Everything feels awful; I can't even enjoy things anymore. And I'm angry all the time.” Painwheel looked into Twilight's eyes. “I was never this angry before, but now...now I feel angry all the time. It feels like I'm going crazy!”
The human crawled forward and seized the alicorn's forelimbs with her hands. Twilight flinched under the contact, but didn't look away. “Painwheel...”
“Twilight...I'm so scared...scared that if something goes wrong...that something like tonight might happen, but worse.” Painwheel shook her head, trying to clear her eyes of tears, tears that never stopped. Just like the pain. “Twilight, I'm afraid if it goes on like this, that I'm going to snap and kill someone. That I'll turn back into that monster, and not stop until everyone I love dies.
“Twilight!” She shook the alicorn, just for emphasis. “I can't go on like this anymore!”
The alicorn stared in shock, letting it all settle in. Finally, she swallowed hard and spoke, “then we need to get you help.” She placed a hoof on Painwheel's forearm, practically feeling the parasites writhe under the creature's skin. It disturbed Twilight, dredging up the memories of using magic to examine the parasites directly through magically transparent flesh. Twilight swallowed again. “There are medical scientists; doctors. We can get you help. No...” She nodded her head. “We will get you help!”
Sniffing, Painwheel was unable to stop a trickle of molasses-like mucus trailing from her nose. “Hic...sniff...really?”
“Really.”
At first this appeared to mollify the human, but then she shut her eyes and grimaced. Subsequently, a head shake. “...but it might not work.”
“It'll work,” Twilight said forcefully, taking Painwheel's hand in her hooves.
“But you don't know that. What if nopony in Equestria can help me?” Painwheel looked deep in Twilight's eyes. Just a day ago, the two were similarly locked in eye contact, though of considerably different nature. Painwheel's vision solidified, resolute. “Twilight, I want you to promise me something.”
“Anything,” Twilight nodded.
“Anything?”
“Anything.” A considerable temptation to perform a pinky promise came over her. Then again, it wouldn't mean anything to Painwheel, but make her think Twilight didn't take the matter seriously. “What do you need me to promise?”
“I want you to kill me.”
Outside
“What in damnation's stewing,” barked the erstwhile sponsor, “is that blasted fool girl doing?!” He clapped a well-kept hand over a well-kept beard. “Was told that problems this wench had, not she'd meet oblivion glad!”
“A truly shocking turn of events, to say the least,” the wanderer said, fiddling with his ornate cane. “But then again, let's wait and see. Would hardly be proper to interfere here.”
The sponsor merely bit his lip, facade of civility and style slipping. The wanderer noted this. How his peers invested so much in so little.
In the grand scheme, of course.
Inside
“...what?”
Twilight Sparkle sat dumbfounded. Her mouth hung open, rising and falling in several aborted attempts to respond. No cogent response was possible, really. Her brain had trouble understanding. So her mind defaulted. “I'm sorry, what?”
Painwheel sucked air, clutching the alicorn's hooves. “I don't want to live this way. I can't. I will go mad if made to do so. Twilight, if no one can take away my pain, then I...I don't want to live a life like this.” Muscles across her body trembled. “Twilight Sparkle...if all else fails, I want you to be my mercy angel.”
Painwheel shook her head. “Nothing has changed. It still hurts.” Her arms were folded resolutely over her chest, protecting her modesty as a team of medical professionals looked her over. She turned away as one took a closer look at her shoulder, staring through magically transparent flesh. She wished Twilight Sparkle had not shared her modification of the see-through flesh spell, or whatever it was called. Her skin crawled, making her feel violated again. This time, though, the medical examinations were done while she was conscious, unlike at Lab Zero.
On the other hand, these doctors purportedly wanted to help. Knowing this comforted Painwheel little.
“Fascinating,” the doctor said, brows furrowed as he watched the play of the internal parasites.
There's nothing fascinating about it, Painwheel thought bitterly. She turned back around to scowl at the doctor. He recoiled in surprise, then smiled sheepishly and coughed.
“No good then,” the anesthesiologist said, shaking her head. Her horn glowed softly, picking up a clip board and striking through an item with a pencil. “This is unfortunate, because that was the strongest painkiller we're allowed to give out for prescription.”
“Morphine, perhaps?” a different examiner suggested, hooves clasped around Painwheel's foot and observing the parasites within it.
“Not sure,” said the anesthesiologist. “Painwheel, are you experiencing any other...”
Painwheel clapped a hand to her stomach. “Ugh...” she moaned, tottering where she sat.
“...symptoms?”
“Feel...nauseous...” Painwheel groaned, supporting herself on the examination table. One of the doctors helpfully levitated a bucket from the corner of the room, which Painwheel accepted. “Hmm...ulp...”
“Additional effect of the infestation?” another doctor questioned, looking up from a thorough examination of the connections between the human's spine and the Buar Drive's cable.
“...ugh...no...never felt this way before...” Painwheel said.
“Side effect of the drugs, I think,” said the anesthesiologist, making additional notes. “Better to lie down for a while.”
As Painwheel complied – readily, as it was a small relief – the assembled examiners shifted positions where they stood to check other areas. A flurry of notes were taken.
One of the doctors leaned over. “Ma'am, if you could...”
“...wha...again?” Painwheel groaned, rubbing her head. “...fine...” She stuck her hand out, then flexed. Pressure built in her arm. She watched – bleary eyed – as the parasite in her arm writhed and contorted. A new sight to accompany an old, familiar pain. She sucked air sharply. Finally, a spike burst through her flesh at her wrist, shooting through nerves and blood vessels, before breaking the skin. She kept it locked to open air for one, two, three seconds. Three agonizing seconds. Then she retracted the spike. As she held her arm out limply, the inner workings of her flesh set to work knitting back together. Veins and arteries sealing, frayed nerves reconnecting. Not a drop of black blood was spilled, and in moments the damage was gone.
Fascinated doctors tore their eyes away from the arm then, scribbling further notes.
The anesthesiologist frowned, both at the heart-breaking display, and at the notes on her board.
“Nausea,” said another doctor, standing beside the anesthesiologist. “Don't remember that side effect for this drug.”
“It's not.” The anesthesiologist looked to the human. No, the patient. Watched the patient writhe and moan, hugging both her upper chest and stomach. “We've had this one around for a hundred years – tried and true medicine – and it's never done that before. Who knows what else it's doing to her?”
“Blood work is in,” a nurse said, popping into the room. She handed it over.
The anesthesiologist accepted the papers with a nod, then looked at them. The numbers were either inconclusive, or very wrong. The seasoned medical professional bit her lip. She looked to the other doctors, who despite their professionalism displayed subtle signs of unease. Some were excited – the old stallions and mares being given a chance to learn something profoundly new for the first time in ages. Others were thoroughly confused, or worried.
They were all out of their depth.
“The infestation is not as bad as you surmised, Princess Sparkle.”
Twilight Sparkle, for a moment, brightened. One look to the assembled doctors, however, set her back down again. “Oh?”
The speaking physician nodded. “In our medical opinion, it's significantly worse.”
“My two bits?” said another doctor, this one apparently a surgeon. “I would not operate. Or at the least, I would never do it myself. My skills are...simply not up to the task.”
“That bad?” Twilight asked, frowning.
“As you found out yourself, the parasitic lifeforms are coiled so heavily around Miss Painwheel's body, that surgery...to be frank, we'd be performing vivisection, not surgery. Digging through every part of the body, because trying to pull them out, given their thorny nature, would be impossible.”
“Pulling it out would likely cause lethal damage on its own,” added another doctor. “And that's assuming it just allowed itself to be pulled on which...well...” She rubbed the back of her head. “Maybe it's just me being paranoid, but I'd expect it to fight the surgeons every step of the way.”
“And that's not including the patient's enhanced rate of regeneration,” noted the first surgeon.
“But isn't that good?” Twilight asked, confused. “Wouldn't she have a higher chance of surviving if she could heal faster?”
“In invasive surgery, no. We'd be fighting to keep her body from closing incisions as we made them. I've seen it in action, it's incredible...and counterproductive. Moreover, we'd be pulling everything apart in any hypothetical procedure, and that would risk not only just killing her outright, but also causing the body to heal...incorrectly. As the surgery was going on.”
Another doctor spoke up, “I examined the spine, where the machine prosthetic was attached. It's truly amazing work; if I didn't see it for myself, I'd say it was an impossible medical addition.” He rubbed his neck. “So you can imagine that removing it would be...”
“Problematic?” Twilight asked.
“Impossible, more likely. One slip, and she's potentially crippled for life. Not sure how the healing factor would apply, but I wouldn't take that chance. Best to just saw the metal bits off outside the body, and leave it at that.”
“So you can't use surgery to remove the parasites,” Twilight said. “Can't you teleport them out her body?”
“Apparational Surgery is in its infancy, Princess,” said the surgeon. “It's a very complicated procedure with a high margin for error...”
“Like teleporting the wrong bit of tissue,” said another doctor, “potentially resulting in immediate death. Even with her healing, it would only take a hunk of heart or major arterial cluster to...well...”
“Moreover, such things have only ever been used on relatively simple targets,” said the first surgeon. “An oblong mass or a piece of shrapnel. These...things are complicated and long. The spell's complexity would increase quadratically, and that's assuming the parasites weren't moving. The only other alternative would be to teleport chunks of parasite at a time...”
“Opening up infections we couldn't possibly foresee from materials inside the parasites,” added the anesthesiologist.
“...and, like my other esteemed colleague stated,” the surgeon said, pointing to the female surgeon, “we don't know how the parasites will react. It would attempt to fight us when we tried...or start lashing out inside the patient, potentially killing her.”
“And most certainly driving the patient crazy, because we'd be doing sans anesthetic.” The anesthesiologist stepped forward, looking through her notes. “Or at least, I'd be hesitant to administer any.”
“What? Why?” Twilight asked, looking at the anesthesiologist. “Pain is her biggest problem, and you're not prescribing anything!?”
“We tried painkillers, Miss Sparkle. We administered the strongest we had short of morphine. They didn't take at all.” The anesthesiologist shook her head sadly. “I had Miss Painwheel's blood analyzed. I can only guess, and we'd need further tests, but that seems to be the source of her advanced healing factor. But what I do know is that she possesses an alarming metabolism for toxins...and medicine, it seems. My theory is that her body burns through the painkillers as a matter of course, either because of an enhanced liver, or as a function of the blood.
“But such things leave byproducts, and I fear what attempting to load her body down with chemicals could do to her. Moreover, I'm reluctant to experiment with any more drugs, for fear her alien biochemistry reacts significantly differently from a pony's. We've had trouble in the past with drugs aimed at earth ponies poisoning pegasi, and that's just between pony races.” She rubbed her temple with a hoof. “I dread to see what morphine – or even stronger drugs – would do to her.”
Twilight rubbed her own head. “Wait, I'm confused,” she said. “How can her healing factor leave the side effects of drugs in place, yet not stop the painkillers from...doing...their job...”
The alicorn princess thought a horrifying possibility: Lab Zero may very well have designed Painwheel's healing factor against efforts to dull her pain. All the better to make her more enraged, and easier to control through mental suggestion. “Oh...”
Twilight Sparkle suddenly felt very ill. “Nevermind, I think I get it. But that means there's no medicine you can give her that won't potentially kill her, or just not work?”
“I wouldn't presume to know without more extensive testing,” the anesthesiologist said, “but I wouldn't feel comfortable attempting it. Even if we found medication that worked, I predict we'd be administering it at such high doses as to be functionally lethal, regardless of species. It's for the same reason I can't recommend inducing a chemical coma. And trying to poison the parasites is right out for similar reasons.
“Which would just leave magical painkillers...”
“Did you attempt it?”
“Yes, but no dice. Pain easing spells are designed with specific species in mind. An anesthetic spell for griffins simply cannot target a pony. Further, most existing models work as a kind of pain countering, which works in amounts rather than for a specific time. We can estimate how long relief would persist, but greater suffering would burn through the spell faster. It's why we tend to prescribe drugs, since they block pain receptors. Chronic pain like this would require strong spells cast frequently. Maybe even constantly.”
“Spells which we don't know, because Painwheel's body is so different,” Twilight said, hanging her head. “How long would it take to develop such a spell?”
“Not in her lifetime,” the anesthesiologist, shaking her head, “whatever that is, though between her condition and the healing factor I cannot guess whether she'll live a shorter or longer life than normal. Regardless, development of the first painkilling magic was slow, and only became really effective as knowledge of biology increased to the point where we could target the nervous system directly. It could take years just to understand human physiology, let alone how the nervous system could be affected by magic. We've yet to solve our own species' physical ills, let alone human ones. Taken further by her own unique case, which alters her body in totally unpredictable ways.”
Twilight stepped over to a window, looking out forlornly. “So there's nothing you can do?”
“...well...” The anesthesiologist rubbed her chin, eyes focused sideways. “There is the Cool Wind procedure...”
“Doubt it'd work,” a doctor piped in.
“Why?” said Twilight, ears perking up. “What's the Cool Wind procedure?”
“It's a type of magical surgery, invented by Doctor Cool Wind,” the anesthesiologist. “It was created as an ultimate, last resort tactic Cool Wind developed for treating burn victims.”
“It's last resort,” said the other doctor – the surgeon, “because it involves a massive spell to sever the pain receptors over the total damaged area. Their burnt flesh rendered completely numb. Permanently.”
“That seems...extreme...” Twilight said.
“But for someone suffering third, fourth, fifth degree burns over the majority of their body?” the anesthesiologist said, “it's virtually the only treatment next to permanent chemical coma.”
“Won't work, though,” the surgeon said. “For one thing, same problem as with painkilling spells; we don't have one for humans. For another, I've seen this mare...”
“Woman,” Twilight corrected.
“...wo-man, then, heal everything, damaged nerves included,” the surgeon continued. “Were it not for the parasites, she'd be in a position most creatures would envy. As it is, her body would probably repair the damage in time, meaning even if we had the spell right now, it'd be a temporary measure at best.”
“So...there's nothing any of you can do for her?” Twilight said, frowning.
The doctors, one by one, shook their heads sadly.
“Oh Celestia,” Twilight said, “what do I tell Painwheel?”
“Nothing. I heard what I needed to.”
Painwheel shambled into the room, a nurse at her side, making equally sure nothing bad happens to the sorry specimen, and that the obtrusive blades didn't knock any medical equipment over.
Huge bags hung under the human's eyes. Those black and red eyes. The ones that carried such sadness.
The anesthesiologist frowned dourly. “I'm so sorry, ma'am. Our skills and expertise aren't up to the task.” She bowed in contrition. “If you wanted, you could try for a second opinion.”
“Thanks but no thanks,” Painwheel said, ambling past with barely a glance to the medical professional. Painwheel locked eyes with Twilight, and jerked her head towards the exit. The motion caused her to hold her head, rubbing it. Parasites? Or headaches as another side effect of the drugs?
Painwheel shrugged it off momentarily, and Twilight Sparkle followed, concerned. As the two saw themselves off, Painwheel finally followed up her statement. “You were all, collectively, our fifth opinion.”
“A little morsal of old root, a half-filled thimble of cold jute...”
Zecora dropped ingredients into a boiling pot, a hoof wrapped around a wooden spoon and stirring the mixture slowly. Taking a rough clay dish in her teeth, she emptied the last ingredient in. “Golden flower from river's edge,” she continued, “and aching pain this brew shall hedge.” She winked to those assembled in her hut, then began muttering incantations in her native tongue.
Apple Bloom studied the zebra for a moment, wondering how much of Zecora's foreign magic was tied to the actual ingredients, and how much was a product of those incantations. Then again, before meeting Zecora, she'd never considered magic as being anything not connected in some way to a pony's body. Unicorns had their horns, of course, and pegasi their wings, as well as their hooves which they used to manipulate the clouds. Not unlike earth ponies, actually, who used their hooves to manipulate plants. The idea of channeling magic through plants of incantations was...alien to Apple Bloom.
Then again, she was a farm pony, so Apple Bloom had known next to nothing about how magic worked. Only that it did, and that even earth ponies used it. At least that was how Twilight explained it.
The filly looked away from the zebra and turned up her head towards Painwheel, who sat beside her on a wooden bench. Being so close to the human was, at first, a disquieting experience. Apple Bloom's first and only major encounter with Painwheel was...traumatic. She shivered, remembering the nights over the last few weeks where she woke up in a cold sweat, from terrible nightmares of a loud buzzsaw and the staring of glowing red eyes.
But when Twilight asked her to take Painwheel to Zecora's hut, Apple Bloom noticed something different about the “monster”. She appeared to the filly as someone tired, and not in the way she had been that day. Perhaps it was being able to see to human's face – to see those eyes – but it made Apple Bloom less afraid.
Plus, Painwheel was the one who saved the Cutie Mark Crusaders from their own folly, so that was worth at least a few points in Apple Bloom's book.
“Don't worry, Painwheel!” Apple Bloom said, donning a cheery smile. “Zecora is the best mixer of potions and whatsits there ever was!”
“You said that already,” Painwheel sighed, rubbing her eye, “as we were coming up here.” She grunted, shaking her head. To the filly, she seemed exhausted and high-strung, but not like last time. For one thing, the human kept still, spoke softly, and wrapped her arms around her, shrinking into herself.
Apple Bloom tilted her head. Why so reserved?
“Too much credit she gives me, too,” Zecora chimed in, “best potion maker was my sweet Babu.”
“Babu?” Apple Bloom asked, cocking an eyebrow.
“My, how you say, dear sweet granny,” Zecora clarified, dropping the stirring stick and picking up a ladle. “Of recipes, she taught me many. Taught me all the things I know...” She looked to either side of her, then leaned in to a whisper, “...including how to hit and throw.” She winked, smiling impishly, miming throwing a hoof-punch.
Apple Bloom laughed. “Sounds like Granny Smith, when she'd teach me how to bake apple pies.” She turned to the human. “Say Painwheel, you ever have some'un to teach you things?”
Painwheel shrunk further inward, looking away. Finally, she said, “My mother.”
“I doubt my skills will measure up, in taste and loving care,” Zecora said, ladling some of the brew into a cup fashioned from a gourd. “But still, drink well from my cup, and see how you will fare.”
Painwheel took the offered vessel in trembling hands. The cup rose to her face, and she sniffed deeply, noting the pungent, earthy aroma. A moment of trepidation. She looked to Apple Bloom nervously.
Apple Bloom smiled wide, bobbing her head expectantly.
Finally, lifting the gourd to the lips, Painwheel sipped and sipped deeply. It tasted...like medicine, really. Except perhaps thicker. Pulpier.
Within minutes, Painwheel was vomiting the concoction out, a rash developing on her skin as it went.
Zecora held the human as she puked, speaking quickly rhymes of apology. Apple Bloom looked on, transfixed and horrified. It would only be later when Twilight would explain to her the non-equine vomit response.
“Hey.”
Turning her head, Painwheel looked at Twilight sidelong. The evening wind whipped a strand of hair that came loose from her bun, so she tucked it behind an ear. “Anything?”
Twilight Sparkle fidgeted in place.
It was all Painwheel needed. She turned away, looking back upon the vast expanse of countryside. The view from Canterlot Castle was astounding. Almost astounding enough to distract from matters of the flesh. “So...nothing...”
“I had the doctors at the First Canterlot Hospital send what they had to Baltimare Medical University,” Twilight said, scratching the back of a foreleg. “Including a sample of your blood. The tests weren't...conclusive.”
“They can't help either.” Painwheel shifted weight from one foot to the other. It was the point where she could almost predict how much the parasites would hurt with a given movement. But there really was no predicting the Gae Bolga. She winced, clasping her eyes shut.
She focused on the sound of wind. The wind, and the hustle and bustle of Canterlot. She opened her eyes, spying the mountains surrounding the more splendid peak upon which the castle was built. Saw how the morning mist still clung to those low mounts. At their feet, rolling hills and scattered clumps of forestry carpeted the land. Over these plains and snaking around or through hills, lines of rail lay like veins of iron, conveying the first trains of the day to and fro. Smoke billowed up in columns, or else in little dotted puff lines.
All that below them. Painwheel leaned forward, studying the enormous drop. The castle itself jutted from the pure stone slope of the mountain, supported by some feat of architecture or magic. From there Painwheel could see everything, from the closet peak to the beginnings of Ponyville, off in the distance. And, if she so chose, she could look more up and see the cumulus constructions of Cloudsdale, forged by cloud masons who knew how long ago.
But, again, Painwheel was more interested in down than up. She stared sadly at the sheer drop, hundreds of meters of distance to the bottom.
It sure is a long way down, Painwheel thought. The parasites buzzed in her head, scraping against her skull. “I didn't get any sleep last night.”
“Then shouldn't you be in bed now?” Twilight asked. “You need your rest.”
“Can't sleep.” Painwheel sniffed the air, taking in what remained of the morning dew. It would grow warmer as Celestia raised that sun higher and the land could absorb more heat. But as it was...it was remarkably pleasant. “...you never gave me an answer.”
“Answer?”
“I asked you to promise to kill me. I'm asking you again.”
“Painwheel no, I can't,” Twilight said, shaking her head. “What you're asking...I can't do that.”
“Are you my friend, Twilight?”
“What?”
Painwheel turned her head back around, glancing sidelong towards the alicorn. “I asked if you my friend.”
“I...y-yes, of course!” Twilight stammered, stepping forward. She took her place right beside Painwheel. “I'm your friend, Painwheel.”
“Then promise.” Painwheel frowned. “Please.”
“Painwheel, you're sounding like you've already given up hope!”
Painwheel didn't answer.
Twilight shook her head violently. “Painwheel, I'm not going to kill you. Nor am I going to let you give up hope. Hope is...hope is...”
“'Hope deferred makes the heart grow sick',” Painwheel said, “'but a desire fulfilled is a tree of life.'”*
“...uh...huh?” Twilight cocked an eyebrow, rubbing the back of her head.
“I don't know either,” Painwheel said, scratching her head, wincing as she traced a tiny thorny tendril across her scalp. “My...mother used to say that, but I never learned where she got it.” A bitter wind whipped loose the lock of hair, so she tucked it back again. “Twilight. My heart grows sick. I'm...so tired...” She looked out upon the landscape, hoping in vain it could soothe her. “...tired of waiting...for hope.”
Twilight sighed, looking out on the land herself. It was always so beautiful. “I understand. But I'm not giving up...because I do still have a trump card to play.”
Painwheel looked to Twilight, a curious eyebrow raised. “Hm?”
“Honestly, I wanted to explore all the options before...because what I had in mind...” Twilight tucked her face into her hoof. “...I just didn't want to have to do this if there were another way.”
“What is it?” Painwheel asked, becoming considerably more animated. What was the mare hiding?
“Guess there's nothing for it.” Twilight's head turned to face over her shoulder, eyes not really looking at any particular place.
Twilight Sparkle and Painwheel looked up to the sky. A cloud shifted and writhed, elongating and branching out. Until at long last, it formed into a vaguely dragon-shaped hodgepodge of animal parts. Made of cloud.
The cloud smiled, its mouth opening wide in profile with upturned corners. “Lovely weather we're having!” it spoke, voice echoing from on high.
“What the fuck is that?!” Painwheel shouted, pointing towards the cloud with one hand and gripping tightly the railing with the other.
“Oh!” the cloud winced. “Language, please! I never.”
“Uh, Painwheel?” Twilight said, putting on a nervous smile. “This,” she pointed towards the cloud, “is Discord. He's a...friend...” Her smile faltered a bit at the end, but she brought it back up again.
“...D-discord?” Painwheel stammered, staring to the sky. “The avatar of chaos? Didn't he plunge Equestria into an age of disorder and madness, ruling it as a king?”
“Gasp!” The cloud frowned. “I'll have you know I was no ruler! I merely brought Equestria the freedom I thought it deserved.” A random pegasus fly by, spotted the dragon-cloud, and approached to investigate. “Freedom from rules, freedom from constants, freedom from making sense...I say!” He waved a claw at the pegasus, who had busied themselves with trying to break up the meteorological formation. “Hooves off! I'm talking here.” The pegasus recoiled in horror, then fled. “...now, where was I?”
“Discord...” Twilight groaned, rubbing the bridge of her snout. “Can you come down here? We need to talk.”
“Hmm? Oh very well.” The cloud flew directly over the balcony, condensing into a proper cloudy mass. It darkened, then began pouring rain. The rain trickled down in a concentrated spot, collecting – not in a puddle – but as fluid in a shapely glass container. Slowly, the form of a snaking chimerical creature coalesced, the last few drops of rain that dissolved the cloud plopping on top of its head.
And there stood Discord. “You were saying, Twilight?”
Painwheel gulped. Was she more tired than she thought?
“Um...” Twilight blinked, then shook her head. “Discord, this...” she said, pointing towards the human, “is Painwheel.”
“Hi?” Painwheel said, eyebrow cocked. “Wait no, how are you friendly now? I don't get this. I thought you were enemies.”
“Oh certainly, our different opinions on order versus chaos caused a certain amount of conflict between the ponies of Equestria and myself. In the past anyway.” Discord wrapped a lion's foreleg over Twilight's shoulder, drawing her into an uncomfortable hug. “But that's all water under the bridge, my dear. I've been 'reformed', as of late.” He brought up an eagle's claw and mimed air quotes over the word 'reformed'. “Right, dear Twilight?”
“...right...” Twilight said, rolling her eyes.
Painwheel merely cocked an eyebrow dubiously.
“Discord, do you know what's been going on?” Twilight asked, wriggling from under the dranconiques' weight. “What have you been doing?”
“Oh, you know, same old, same old.” Discord waved a hand. “Been out there, making the world more interesting. Just this past week, I was over in the griffin kingdoms. The Earl of Stroheim just bought the farm, and it turns out he had a hidden illegitimate child. I may have...informed the griffin court of the lad's existence, complete with how technically he's a more direct descendent than the next closest heir. Now they're having a full-blown succession crisis! Isn't it wonderful!”
“Discord!” Twilight said, aghast. “That's horrible! What if someone got hurt?”
“What? And leave a young griffin without his birthright?” Discord said. “At worst, it will be isolated to the squabbling royalty. What do the common griffins, after all, care if the nobles play their little throne games? Nothing, that's what.”
“Ugh...I don't even care at this point,” Twilight said, rubbing her face again. “This is about Painwheel.”
“Yes, and I know all about her.”
“Wait, you do?” Twilight asked, surprised.
“Of course!” Discord eyed the human, who squirmed under those eyes. “The very fabric of the gauntlet protecting this world from the outside opens up, and an alien creature pops out, causing a ruckus.” He cocked an eyebrow, smiling. “Of course I know about it.”
“Well, Painwheel is currently suffering horribly because of an infection by internal parasites,” Twilight explained.
“Oh?”
Painwheel looked down at her feet. “It hurts...all the time...”
“Does it now? Intriguing.” Discord said, stroking his beard. Wheels began turning in his head. He looked sidelong at Twilight. “And?”
“And...I was wondering...” Twilight said, “...if you could fix her.”
“Me? I'm flattered, my dear, but why ask me?”
“Please, Discord,” Twilight said, ears drooping to the side of her head. “We've asked practically every doctor, researched every book, and tried every remedy. Nothing promises to work. And you have...”
“Intellect?” Discord said. “Sagacity? Dashing good looks?” He smiled wryly.
“...phenomenal cosmic power...”
“Oh, that too.” Discord frowned. “Though I'm just a little offended you waited until the last to ask me.”
Twilight shook her head violently. “She needs those parasites out, Discord. She needs it, and now! Just please...please help...”
Discord opened his mouth, but noticed Twilight's forlorn expression. He looked over his shoulder, seeing Painwheel. Seeing how she stood, how she carried herself.
How she kept stealing glances towards the avatar of chaos. Subtle physical cues signaling an exhaustion, mixed with trepidation.
Discord sighed, turned to face the human. “I'll see what I can do.”
He drew close, bending over. Painwheel leaned back reflexively, a cold sweat rolling down her neck. The chaos creature's eyes darted over her flesh, drinking her in. She saw how he smacked his lips, focused utterly on the task.
Her heart raced. It felt like those eyes didn't merely see her outside. And it was more intense an appraisal even than the doctors gave when examining her internal workings. Those eyes – ancient and wily – pierced her flesh palpably. Painwheel's skin buzzed with a strange electricity. As the creature circled behind her, a shudder ran down her spine and wrapped around the base, where the prosthetic was attached.
She could not move. Neither did the parasites dare. It was not fear direct, but rather the overwhelming certainty of appraisal. Not even that every inch was seen. Rather, Painwheel felt as if every particle of her being given this...demigod's absolute scrutiny. Every atom, if not something somehow more fundamental.
Painwheel hardly noticed how every muscle remained tensed; locked into rigid form. She shivered, eyes cast unmoving forward, so as to see him hover back into view.
His first utterance nearly gave her a heart attack. “Hmm...” Discord said, stroking his beard. He smacked his lips. “...yes.”
“What?” Twilight said, peeking from behind the draconequus.
Discord unbent, resuming full height. “I said yes, I can work with this.”
“...wha...really?” Painwheel said weakly, clutching her arms. She felt weak at the knees. Muscles relaxed, blood pumping in earnest now. Dare she hope?
“You can get rid of the parasites?!” Twilight said, eyes sparkling.
“Oh, Twilight, Twilight, Twilight,” Discord said, shaking his head. An upturn of the lip, and a corresponding raised eyebrow. He turned to the alicorn. “Who do you think you are talking to? I am Discord. Born was I when first life exercised self-determination. I have made mountains out of mole hills. Made clouds into cotton candy, and rain into chocolate milk. I have rearranged causality so that I may enjoy a hearty breakfast before I have had a chance to cook it. I've seen things you people wouldn't believe, and done things you wouldn't comprehend. Where I tread, logic and proportion don't mean anything at all.
“I can fix your girl.”
…
Twilight smiled broadly. “Sweet Celestia! Did you hear that Painwheel?”
Painwheel staggered. She gawked. “I...I don't know what to...” Her eyes threatened to go misty.
Twilight rushed over to the human, throwing forelegs around her. “This is wonderful!” she exclaimed. She looked over her shoulder. “Can you do it right now?”
Painwheel too looked to the draconequus. The emotions were so deep, she had trouble processing them. She stared expectantly. Her lip trembled.
Discord crossed his arms. “...I can...”
The two females leaned closer. One smiled, the other slowly building in her heart that most decadent, most heady of drugs: hope.
“...that does not mean I will.”
Painwheel's heart nearly shattered on the spot.
Twilight's smile certainly broke. “What?” She shook her head, disengaging from the hug she held Painwheel in. “I'm sorry, what?”
“I said,” Discord repeated, “that I can could fix the girl. I never said I would.”
Painwheel's heart sank. She could scarcely comprehend what she was feeling, though it wasn't pleasant.
“...not for free, anyway...”
“W-what?” Twilight stammered, jumping towards Discord. “How can you...what is the matter with...I don't even...WHAT?!”
“For f-free?” Painwheel said, quietly.
“How could you possibly ask for payment on a matter this grave?!” Twilight yelled. “Painwheel is suffering, and you ask for...what? And why?!”
Discord stood his ground. “It is because of how grave this matter is that I can't do the service gratis.”
“I don't...gah!” Twilight stamped a hoof on the tiled floor. “Is this blackmail? I thought we were friends, Discord!”
“Blackmail is an ugly word,” Discord said. “But no, it isn't that. And need I remind you that though I consider you a friend, this same consideration does not extend to the girl.” He pointed towards the human.
“Well she's MY friend!” Twilight barked. “And if I've learned anything from my researches into friendship, it's that the transitive property applies to friendship too. You're my friend, which means you're also Painwheel's friend by proxy! And what about Fluttershy? What would she say if she found out you were extorting a suffering creature at her greatest time of need?”
Discord's expression turned to one of pain. Eyes drooped, ears flattening. But he shook his head firmly. “Fluttershy...would have to understand. Understand what you're asking me to do.” He backflipped sadly, putting distance between them so he could lean against the railing. “Do you know what you're asking me to do? It's replacing chaos with order. Something that goes against my very being.”
“That...that's absurd!” Twilight said.
“No, it's the truth.” Discord frowned. “Your girl's own body is at war with itself. Conflict arises because of the parasites. Remove that, and I'll be directly promoting a more stable, regular state. Favoring Stasis. I'm a being of Dynamism, and to act against that is to act against my nature.” He pointed a clawed finger at Twilight. “Suppose I ask you, Princess of Friendship, to use your knowledge and magic to destroy the friendship between two ponies. Even for a good cause. How would you feel doing that?”
“I don't...that's different...it's...uh...” Twilight cast her eyes about, considering the thought. “...I don't...”
“Right. It would go against everything you are, even if you knew it was what needed to be done.” Discord stroked his beard. “I've never undone an element of chaos I myself didn't create. Undoing my own work is simply my right. Disassembling an engine of conflict created by another? It goes against the spirit of disorder...which is why the act must be compensated for. I don't merely ask for payment. I MUST be paid, for compromising my principles.
“Besides, the girl wouldn't have properly paid for her cure anyhow.”
Painwheel scowled. “Paid?” she said, eyebrows knitting close. “I haven't paid enough? I haven't suffered enough? Who the hell are...”
“There is a difference, my dear,” Discord shot back, “between suffering and overcoming. Anyone can suffer misfortune. It takes a certain strength to weather their pains and throwing them off.” Discord floated over the ground, rising so as to look down upon Painwheel. “What would you have me be? A god in the proverbial machine? Discordia Ex Machine? Your story, and your suffering, will mean nothing if it is merely swept away by some benevolent power who took pity on you. I offer you the salvation from your overriding problem. What I ask is that you earn your happy ending.”
She narrowed her eyes. It did all seem too easy. She would even have accepted life-threatening surgeries if they had any hope of success. “Name your price, then,” Painwheel said, red eyes staring defiantly.
The draconequus smiled. “Your life...in service to me.”
“...what?” Painwheel said, resolve faltering, face falling.
“I can ask you for anything I want!” He pointed at Twilight. “And it's her choice at any rate, not yours.” Discord pressed a paw to his chest indignantly. He turned to Painwheel. “My price, in return for taking away your pain, is to serve me for the rest of your days. Personally, I think it's a fair trade all around. Your life now is utterly, completely miserable. A lifelong indentured servitude to me is small change indeed compared to being able to move, to sleep, to live, to think! Without the constant thorns in your sides (and everywhere else).”
“...what would I have to do?” Painwheel asked, a knot already forming in her stomach. She had to know. She didn't want to know, but she had to know.
Had to know what she stood to lose.
“Nothing major or backbreaking,” Discord said, waving a paw. “Not often anyway. Since your cure subtracts from the net chaos in the world, you'd spend the rest of your days helping me make up for it. Be my personal assistant in my quest to make the world more...interesting. Running errands, painting things bright colors, trawling the land for places and peoples too mired in their own orderliness. Spreading word of my efforts and my intentions; you'd be surprised how often ponies fail to understand why I turned an entire parade float into dinosaurs.” He shrugged his shoulders and rolled his eyes. “Go where I want and do what I want, all in the name of chaos.
“So. What do you say?”
“No...”
“Hmm? No? I know it's a little much...”
“I would rather die.”
Discord shut up immediately. Twilight found herself at a loss for words, so just gaped.
Painwheel didn't give either a chance to talk. She sniffed. “...I can't do this anymore. I won't. Ever since...ever since Lab Zero turned me into...” Painwheel brought a hand up, rubbing her scalp furiously. “...into a monster! When that happened, I wasn't just not human any more. I was a slave! A slave to Brain Drain. What I wanted more than anything, back then, was to be free.
“I'm free now...but I'm still in pain.” Painwheel began scowling fiercely. “I don't want to be in pain...but I don't want to be a slave either!” She started yelling, fists clenched, “So no! I won't do it! I'm done, do you hear me? DONE!” Weary eyes shot daggers at the draconequus.
Twilight edged forward. “Painwheel, it's okay,” she said, “we can get Discord to be reasonable. We...”
“It's NOT okay, Twilight!” Painwheel screamed. “It's not fair! And I'm not going to do this anymore!”
Twilight shrank in horror. Her ears fell against her head.
Painwheel breathed heavily, then spoke more softly. In a voice that wavered like a leaf in the breeze. “I don't...I can't do this anymore...I'm done...” Her eyes fell to the ground, staring intently at her bare feet.
How stupid a thing to think about, her lack of shoes.
It was time. “Twilight...”
“...yes?” Twilight said.
“Kill me.” Painwheel said, looking directly at the alicorn. “Kill me now.”
“...sweet Celestia, no!” Twilight cried, shaking her head. “I can't do that! You don't know what you're saying!”
“I know exactly what I'm saying...I'm so tired. And I won't compromise. Not with him...” Painwheel cast a glance towards Discord, who remained silent. But his shock was wearing off, and he looked...contemplative. “...not for that price.”
Tears began forming in Twilight's eyes. “Why not? You can't give up on life! There's still hope!”
“I'm tired of hope!” Painwheel barked, fists clenched into balls tight enough to crush coal into diamonds. “I'm tired of having hope dangled in front of me, only to have it jerked away! I'm tired of being chained up...given orders...” Her speech regained its wavier quality. “...I'm tired of hurting all the time, and you all not getting it. Twilight...I'm just tired...I can't even sleep anymore...”
She rubbed her eye with the base of her palm. “...freedom from pain...freedom from masters...I can't accept not having both. I sacrificed too much to do that. If I have to...to die to have both, than I will.” Scrunching her face, Painwheel stepped forward and spread out her arms. “Twilight. Kill me.”
“P-painwheel...I-I can't...” Tears rolled down Twilight's face. She backed away further. “I can't. I won't. I'm not going to kill you!”
“You can!” Painwheel said, keeping her arms spread out.
“No!”
“Twilight please!”
“Don't ask me to do that, Painwheel!”
“Twilight!” Painwheel stamped a foot, a tear rolling down her face. She raised her voice. “If you're my friend, then you'll do this for me!”
“Ooooh,” Discord intoned barely audibly.
“Ah...I...” Twilight gaped. She shut her eyes, “It's because I'm your friend that I won't kill you!”
“...” Painwheel bit her lip. Bit it so hard it drew black blood, though the wound knitted close as soon as she opened her mouth again. She wore a tortured expression. “...okay,” she gasped.
She turned around, placing a hand on the railing. She faced out, to the landscape. Back to the others. “Fine.”
“Painwheel, I'm sorry I...” Twilight started.
Painwheel planted a foot on the railing and pushed herself up.
“Painwheel? What are you doing?!”
The human stood on two feet, balanced on the railing. She faced out, head downcast so as to see the drop. “Twilight,” she said.
“Painwheel stop!” Twilight screamed, stepping forward. She looked up towards the draconequus. “Discord! Say something!”
“Hmm...no,” Discord said, stroking his beard. “I want to see where she's going with this.”
“Twilight.”
The alicorn princess turned back to the human. “...P-painwheel...please...”
“Twilight.” Painwheel looked over her shoulder, sidelong at the alicorn. “At least...be a good enough friend...not to stop me.” She looked back out at the landscape. “I'm...I'm sorry...”
A foot dangled out over the edge.
“Painwheel! No!”
“Sorry...for coming here...and being a monster about it...”
The wanderer turned to his compatriot. “Mr. Rose, may I suggest...”
P. Rose had a hand clasped over his mouth, fingers digging into his cheek. He glared at the wanderer. A piercing glare that could bore into the heart of a neutron star.
As far as the wanderer knew, such a feat was literally possible. For one of them. He gulped. “...shutting up, sir.” He turned back towards the world, watching intently as the latest rising star fell.
Painwheel fell.
Her stomach churned. Wind whipped her hair and her garments. How it tickled her memory. It was just like...that time. When the world gave way, and she fell from hers, into another.
I'm leaving this world the same way I entered it, Painwheel thought, ruefully. How appropriate.
Her eyes wandered, watching the castle begin to shrink away from her. Spires of purple and gold towered high above, topped with miniature representational suns that glittered in the morning light. Shone radiant for the sake of their inspiration.
Painwheel looked down, rushing air chilling her eyes. Blinking away the tears, she continued to take in the landscape expanding to meet her. It was verdant green. Was this sight to be the last she saw?
Her heart palpitated. Pounded in her chest, in her extremities, in her ears. She could hardly hear over her own blood. Painwheel winced, the parasites roiling and writhing over the entirety of her body. Their thorns dug into muscles and scrapped bone, adding scratches to the heartbeats she heard in her head. The Gae Bolga twisted about, wracking Painwheel's body with stinging pain. She groaned.
Did the parasites know? Could they understand what she was doing? Or were they responding to her heightened state of agitation?
No, it wasn't merely agitation. Painwheel frowned, sweat forming on her brow and shearing away in the steadily increasing breeze. She was more than agitated. Painwheel looked upon that verdant greenery and felt something much stronger. More definable.
She felt fear.
No, she thought, shaking her head. She shut her eyes tight. There's nothing to be afraid of. It'll be over soon. Then I'll have peace.
She held her eyes shut, against the wind and against sight. She hugged her arms, letting herself drop. It wouldn't be long now. But it seemed to take so long. The sound of blood rushing through her head came in waves. Swells and ebbs that played out inside her; a black sea she carried with her. Each beat – each wave – took forever to come.
What if the end came without her knowing it? The thought sent a jolt through her heart, and Painwheel's eyes shot open. That green was still there, scarcely closer than when she closed her eyes.
She grimaced in pain...and in terror. A niggling thought entered her mind: what if it doesn't kill me? What if I lay on the ground, but my body heals itself too much to die?
Painwheel fell with her body parallel to the ground, facing forward. In a panic, she leaned forward, flapping with her arms to orient her head downward. Now, when she landed, it would be head first, where she'd have the highest chance of...
It's going to be okay, she thought, shaking like a leaf. She closed her eyes again. It'll be okay. My life was over when Lab Zero captured me. When...Filia betrayed me. When my parents rejected me.
The ponies will move on when I'm gone. They never really liked me anyway. They tolerated me, that's all. No one would want a monster like me. I'm just a reminder of terror, or of a terrible past. It's better if I just die.
She opened her eyes again. The verdant green was closer now. It wouldn't be long.
This is fine, she thought, hugging herself. Feeling the parasites squirm under her skin. This is just fine. It's better this way. I deserve this. I need this. I...I want this.
...don't I?
“What this one called, mommy?”
A small girl pointed to a white flower, jumping up and down impatiently. She tried to read the plaque placed by the park employees, but to her dismay she couldn't make out the words. Staring at the plaque, she scrunched her face. “Ma...mag...gno...magno...ol...”
The girl's mother approached, out of breath but smiling softly. “That's a Magnolia, dear. Isn't it beautiful?”
A rapid nod from the girl. “Mhmm!” she hummed, staring up at the flower. “It's really pretty.” She stepped over to her mother, pulling on the woman's sundress. “What does it mean? What does it mean, mommy?”
“It means nobility and dignity,” the mother said, patting the child's head lovingly.
“Oh,” the girl said, looking towards the flower, deep in thought. “...what does that mean?”
The mother giggled. “It means to have honor. To carry oneself well. Like a proper lady or gentleman.”
“Will I be a proper lady when I grow up?”
“Only if you work really hard,” the mother said. “Being a lady means acting the part. That means having proper etiquette. Minding your manners. And always acting in a proper, noble fashion. Can you do that?”
“Yes!” the girl exclaimed. “I sure can...oh!” She looked in the near distance, spying a different flower. “What's that? Over there!” She took off running, the happy mother following steadily.
Carol gushed.
“And now, the act you've all been waiting for! The Vitali Circus' pride and joy! CEREBELLA!”
A roar of applause rose up around the big top, heads craning to the ceiling with fists raised in excitement. Eyes locked on the wires as a teenaged girl was illuminated by spotlights. She didn't stand tall, her body was wiry, yet the hints of maturity were forming in her figure. Evidence that, not too long yet, she would fill out into a full-figured young woman. Her head was topped with short, green hair.
She waved to the crowd, blowing kisses, then donned a hat, with the face of an angry rabbit on its crown. The hat expanded, two muscular arms sprouting like daisies. They took hold of a bar suspended by cables from the ceiling, and the girl – suspended by her wondrous hat – swung over the vast expanse in the tent.
Far below, a growing preteen girl clutched a bag of popcorn tightly, eyes locked upon that figure as she sailed through the air. The girl gasped as the acrobat's headwear let go, then heaved a sigh of relief as the figure caught another waiting bar with the hook of a leg.
“Amazing!” the girl exclaimed, pointing.
Carol beamed.
“To hear your voice...is pomegranate wine...to me...I draw life from hearing it...”
Atop an ornately decorated stage, a massive lotus split open. Fog – undoubtedly from a fog machine – billowed around the base of the flower. As the petals parted, they revealed a woman. Dressed in the richest finery – her skin the color of polished bronze – the woman sang.
“Could I see you with every glance...” The woman – clad as if pulled straight from the shores of the Nile – sang softly, crooning into a stylized microphone. A piano played slowly in the background. “It would be better for me...than to eat or drink...”*
Seated at a table in the audience, a brown-haired teenage girl stared, mouth agape, drinking in the sound. She absentmindedly stroked the surface of her glass, trailing fingerprint paths through the condensation. Suddenly, she felt an elbow jarring into her arm.
Her blond companion smiled at her, eyes jerking towards the singer. “I told you she was the bees knees,” she whispered. “And you wanted to stay at home.”
The teenager sighed, relaxing. “Thank you for bringing me, Filia. You didn't have to, but...”
“But I know a good show when I hear it,” the blond interrupted. “Plus, you need to get out more.”
“Aren't shows like this expensive?” the brunette asked, tapping her glass lightly against the table. “Where did you get a reservation?”
“Dad is rich,” the blond said, turning to face the singer. “And has a lot of connections.”
“Oh.” The brunette girl also returned her eyes to the main event. As the woman swayed seductively on stage, the teenager noticed the stage flanked by walls of flowers. Cornflowers, daisies, mandrakes, and roses. Irises, myrtles, jasmine, narcissus, and ivy. Rosin Cress, celosia, water lilies, and poppies.** “...thank you.”
“No problem,” Filia said, patting her friend on the shoulder.
Carol blushed.
“Happy Birthday!”
Carol inhaled deeply, the yellow candlelight flickering across her face. Bending close, she blew at the flames, dispersing them. Soft little pinpricks of fire snuffed out, leaving trails of acrid smoke to trail away.
“Yay!” Carol's parents cheered. Her father landed one of his great hands on her shoulder. Her mother smiled, leaning close and rubbing her cheek against Carol's.
Carol placed a hand on her father's, and her other hand around her mother's waist.
Carol felt loved.
I've made a huge mistake.
A tear formed on Painwheel's cheek, disintegrating in the rush of air.
“I...I don't want to die.”
“OH MY GOSH OH MY GOSH OH MY GOSH”
Twilight Sparkle couldn't keep a single hoof on the ground for more than an instant. She tapped in place, then started running to and fro around the balcony. “Oh sweet Celestia, what do I do? What do I do? WHAT DO I DO?!”
Nearby, a certain draconiquus floated in space, neck craned over the edge. He looked up and back, frowning. Seeing the mare galavanting about, he rolled his eyes so hard the pupils stretched the bounds of his eyeballs. “Really, my dear?” he said. “How about saving her?”
Twilight stopped in her tracks, signs of mental distress so indicative to the mare setting in. Disheveled hair, grinding teeth, full-body twitches. But this was tinged with a distinct, personal horror. “B-but she said...” Twilight began, jerking her head from side to side. “...she said...”
“And you listened to her?” Discord said, raising an eyebrow. He waved towards the railing. “Why in Equestria would you heed that? Or did you really learn nothing from that...modeling incident, or whatever it was Fluttershy went on about that involved Rarity? About keeping promises, even if it would hurt your friends?”
…
Twilight Sparkle stopped completely, for a moment. Her eye twitched.
Then she rushed towards the railing, wings flapping. She didn't even wait for Discord to move out of the way, the latter simply allowing himself to go two dimensional and spinning like a cardboard cutout about its axis.
The alicorn princess dove. “Painwheel! I'm coming!”
She flapped her wings, harder and harder. Eyes set forward, straining shut against the cold moving air. Twilight blinked repeatedly, scanning the vast ground beneath her. “Painwheel...where...are...you?”
Her heart raced, beating engine-like in her chest. Could a heart beat so fast and so hard it burst from the chest? It was a fascinating question, and one deserving an experiment. Plans would need to be drawn up, variables isolated, and safeguards put in to prevent instantaneous death by heart attack. Asking Princess Celestia for grant money would be the next logical...
Twilight shook her head violently. This was no time for science, as heretical as it seemed.
Well, perhaps a little science. Twilight swore to herself. Her wings hurt, and she couldn't be sure if she was gaining any speed. Unlike Rainbow Dash, who could accelerate downward at such a rate as to eventually break the sound barrier, Twilight...
She gulped, sweating forming on her brow. Limited as she was to terminal velocity, there was no way Twilight could ever catch up to...
“Painwheel!”
Twilight saw it. In the distance below was the shape of a spinning swastika. And it was growing larger – closer – by the moment.
“Painwheel!” Twilight yelled, excitedly. “Painwheel, I'm coming! Hold on!” She flapped harder, straining her already sore wings further. They screamed for rest. She pressed on, gritting her teeth. “Just...a little...more...”
The emaciated figure came into view, and grew closer.
“Painwheel! Painwheel! Pain-”
The human zipped right past.
“-wheel?”
Buar Drive blades spinning, Painwheel flew over the railings to the balcony.
“Ah, there you are,” Discord began, smirking. “I-”
Painwheel tackled Discord to the ground.
The avatar of chaos gasped, straining and clawing at his neck, clutched as it was by the human's bony fingers. Those strong arms pinned him to the ground. “Oof! I...ack...say,” he coughed, “is there something the-”
“Shut. Up.” Painwheel's eyes bore holes through the chimera's face, burning red like hellfire. She tightened her grip on his neck. Discord promptly stopped talking.
Behind them, a panting and straining Twilight flapped over the balcony railing. “P-pain...wheel...” she panted, then dropped like a stone onto the deck. “Y-you...what are you...?”
“Twilight, please,” choked Discord, peeking over at the mare, “can you ask this human to-”
“I said shut up!” Painwheel yelled into Discord's face, causing the creature's hair to blew back with the force.
“P-painwheel,” Twilight wheezed, getting to her hooves. “You came back. I'm glad. But...why?” She coughed, then smiled hopefully. “Did you realize as you were falling that your problems weren't worth dying over? That there were other ways?”
“...yeah,” Painwheel said gravely. She looked over to Twilight. “I realized I shouldn't be sad or give into despair.” That sort of thing didn't help her before, and it wouldn't now. Nearly turned her into a Skullgirl.
Twilight smiled wider, the light catching in her eyes like the sparkles that were her namesake.
“I should get pissed off!” Painwheel said, turning back to Discord and punching him in the cheek.
“Ow!” Discord yelped. A lion's paw rose up and rubbed his cheek.
Twilight's joyful expression changed to dismay. “...uh...”
“Ow, ow, ow!” Discord whined. “Really, was that necessary? I-” Then he was slammed back against the ground, dust billowing from where he landed.
“Don't you fuck with me!” Painwheel yelled, barring her teeth. Her full weight – over three hundred pounds, although that was mostly metal and parasites – bore down on him. “I'm tired of everyone fucking with me, and I'm tired of taking it!” She glared, locking eyes with the draconiquus. “Slavery? Pain? Death? Fuck that, I take a fourth option.
“You want a deal, Discord? Here's mine: you fix me right now, or I beat the living shit out of you!”
Discord stared wide-eyed in amazement. “...really?”
“Really?” Twilight said, mouth agape.
“Really,” Painwheel said, raising a fist and squeezing it in front of her. “I don't care if you are the manifestation of disorder. I don't care if reality bends to your whims. Give me any more bullshit about me not earning my happy ending, and I'll show you exactly what this Anti-Skullgirl weapon can do.” She leaned in close enough that Discord could feel her breath on his snout. Painwheel's brows knit down, jaws clamped hard enough she spoke through her teeth. “Am. I. Clear?”
Laying there, on the ground, Discord stared in bewilderment. The angry face of a human reflected in his eyes. Then...he started laughing. “...ha...ha ha...ha ha ha ha ha!”
Painwheel's grimace faltered. “...huh?”
“Ho, ho!” he chortled, in spite of the heavy teenage girl on his chest. “Ha ha ha! Ha ha ha, ho ho, bwa ha ha!” Discord finally brushed a tear from his eye, laughter beginning to subside. “Oh my...ha ha...yes...Yes!” He grinned broadly; ecstatically.
“What?” Painwheel said, confounded.
“Yes! Good!” Discord said, pointing towards Painwheel, causing the human to recoil in surprise. “That's it. That's what I wanted to see.
“Rage. Rage against he dying of the light. Rage against death, and the cession of life. I detest the forces of Stasis, true, but I despise Entropy more. But you...” Discord's head cocked to the side. “You didn't give in. You turned away from oblivion, that most boring of states.
“Excellent. Humans...are such fascinating creatures.”
Painwheel sat stunned, then grimaced. “You think this is a game!?” she yelled, pulling her fist back behind her head.
“Painwheel!” Twilight gasped. “No!”
“AAAAHHH!” Painwheel screamed, aiming a hard punch to Discord's face.
In response, that grinning face simply disintegrated, causing the fist to slam effortlessly through it.
Painwheel gasped as her fist met no resistance. I didn't hit him that hard, she thought, did I? Then she recoiled, as the entire creature exploded. Falling onto her rump, Painwheel could only see a cloud of cherry blossom petals spread out in front of her. “Wha-”
“The heck?” Twilight said, eyebrow raised and jaw slack.
Petals spread out before them, a cloud of pink that tumbled in the air and began falling in waves. Amid the petals, a figure appeared. “Oh, what fun we have.” The figure turned around, revealing Discord...in a sailor uniform. “But really, Painwheel,” he said, eyes sparkling majestically, “how in Equestria did you think picking a fight with I, Discord, would turn out?” He waved his arms, posing dramatically, pointing two fingers over his forehead, with the other paw pointing at Painwheel. “In the name of Chaos, I must rebuke you.”
Painwheel gaped.
...it's just like one of my cartoons, she thought. Then she slapped herself, shaking her head. “W-wha...what the...what the fuck?”
Twilight Sparkle rubbed her eyelids. “Ugh...Discord, please,” she groaned. “Can we get back on track?”
“Oh, alright.” Discord snapped his fingers. With a flash, his school uniform disappeared. “But really, Painwheel, I had your best interest at heart.”
“Bullshit,” Painwheel barked, “you wanted me as your slave.”
“Why would I want that?” Discord said, raising a hand, palm up. “Slavery is a kind of order, you know. The relationship between Master and Slave is the height of order, and its very worst manifestation. I've switched sides dozens of times in history for the expressed purpose of preventing the order that comes from domination...well, that and because I'm just unpredictable like that.” He smirked. “I didn't want you as my slave. I wanted to galvanize you.”
“Huh?” Painwheel said. She rubbed her head. “What are you talking about?”
“What I said was true. You were focusing so heavily on escaping pain, you forgot to seek life.” Discord folded his arms. “You said no – in this case to pain – when you should have been saying yes. Yes to a better life. If I had snapped my fingers and cured you, no cost, you'd accept the relief, but wouldn't be any closer to appreciating your own life. Your own freedom. You were in a rut; a fixed pattern of depression that would not simply have gone away if the pain did. I know full well your hangups about being used; I knew the price I cited was one you weren't willing to pay. It was because I knew you'd reject the offer that I made it in the first place.
“Well, that and because I wanted to see how you'd react.”
Painwheel scowled.
Discord stroked his beard. “I expected your refusal,” he said, “to reject it out of hand, and try to renegotiate the deal. Honestly, you'd think humans never heard of haggling.” Then he sniggered. “But then...he he...but then, you went above and beyond my expectations. You didn't just reject me, you rejected everything.” He pointed excitedly at Painwheel. “You were willing to die to get everything you wanted. That impressed me greatly...though, as I said, I abhor the choice on principle. A good thing you changed your mind.”
“And what if she didn't change he mind?” Twilight asked, frowning. “Because of your stupid games, Painwheel could have died.”
“I was watching her!” Discord said, throwing his hands up defensively. “I planned on teleporting her back up here to safety...or materializing a cushioning pool of pudding to break her fall. Whichever.” He cocked an eyebrow at Twilight. “Makes me wonder why you didn't just use your magic to save her yourself. Hmm?”
Twilight opened her mouth, but paused in thought. Her expression dropped. She facehoofed.
Painwheel groaned in frustration. “Enough of this,” she said, fists balled up. “Are you going to fix me, or not?”
“Of course I will...for a price.”
“Oh come on!” Twilight groaned.
“You son of a bitch!” Painwheel said, stepping closer and flexing arms.
Discord splayed his hands out defensively. “I'm not asking much,” he said, “but what I said of needing to be paid was the truth.”
Painwheel had a fist pulled back, but she let it drop. For now. She frowned.
“I'm not asking for a lifetime of servitude,” Discord continued. “Besides, you're very much like Fluttershy. Being the straight woman in my routine would ill suit you. That's the problem with...sensitive types...” He smiled disarmingly. “No, what I want is more of a...quest. An errand, really. A trifle.” On his eagle claw he raised two talons, finger and thumb. How he had thumbs was another matter entirely. “A small task I need done.”
“...and then you'll fix me?” Painwheel said. Her eyes were narrowed in suspicion.
“And then I'll fix you, and you need never bother with me again.”
“You're not fucking with me?”
Discord puffed out his chest and ran a claw over it. “Cross my heart...” He flapped his arms like a bird. “...hope to fly...yadda yadda, I promise.” He punctuated the last part by raising two claws in a salute. “Crusader's honor.”
“...okay, I'll do it.”
The alicorn princess looked back and forth between the two, then stepped towards Painwheel. “I'm sorry,” she said, “but don't you want to know what he wants first?”
“If it's any single thing, I don't care.”
“Splendid!” Discord cheered, clapping. “Then let's get right to it, shall we?” He whispered under his breath, “Wasted enough time already...”
“Ohm gibbar, sie pree non sot. Ohm gibbar, sie pree non sot.”
“No more, demon! No more! Thy holds have been seized, thy works crumbled. Thy unholy strength depleted, thy allies fled; no more shall thou truck with demons, or Pluto in Hades, or the heart of skulls, or the senseless one, nor any chthonic beings! Not even the true void will have thee!”
“Ohm gibbar, sie pree non sot. Ohm gibbar, sie pree non sot.”
“Ne'er more will thy predations fall upon pony kind, or upon the Griffins, or upon the sons of Minos, or upon any herding race! Theirs will be a lot separate from thee and thine.”
“Ohm gibbar, sie pree non sot. Ohm gibbar, sie pree non sot.”
“Thy freedom is at an end. Thy malice will have no outlet. Thy appetites no sating, thy plots no reward.”
“Ohm gibbar, sie pree non sot. Ohm gibbar, sie pree non sot.”
“I name Uranos, angel of the sky, and Gaia, angel of the earth! By these names I revoke thine!”
“OHM GIBBAR, SIE PREE NON SOT. OHM GIBBAR, SIE PREE NON SOT.”
“Obey. Obey! OBEY!”
A single, stray Nasturtium* blossom swayed in the cool wind.
Present Day
“Huh?”
Painwheel blinked several times, then looked around. The three of them were just on the balcony of a high tower in the Equestrian capital. They were no longer there.
The three of them were on a ledge of a high mountain, in the middle of a cluster of mountains. The chill air whipped about them, carrying gray dust with it. “...what the...?”
Twilight Sparkle gasped nearby. “Sweet Celestia! Look at it!” she said, pointing.
Painwheel followed the point towards the mountain wall. But instead of some sheer, featureless cliff, instead there stood a large temple entrance, carved from the very stone. Cracks ran up and down, hither and yon, across the temple's face. Vines and moss clung or bit into the base of the walls, though the moss was sparse and the vines wilting. In the center of the colossal mass was an overhang, and a great doorway, flanked by crumbling, weathered statues of great dog-like beasts with the manes of lions.
The door, huge and metal and artfully adorned, was fastened shut by a rusty metal lock.
“Oh...wow!” Painwheel said, staring at the structure's desolate beauty.
“It's amazing,” Twilight said, though her eyes darted about, taking in every detail. She noted curious murals carved onto the wall. “Maretania...this is an ancient Maretanian temple, isn't it?” She looked over to Discord.
The dranconiquus raised an eyebrow. “You're familiar with Maretania?”
“I've only written the account of Starswirl the Bearded's exploration of the Mines of Maretania twelve times!” Twilight paused, then added, “uh, make that thirteen times. Spike is always reminding me.” She turned back to the temple entrance. “It's so fascinating, reading on these ancient structures. Some scholars believed them to be as old as pony habitation on this continent...not sure where this is, though. A temple this old, from the late Maretanian period? And yet...” She squinted at the door, stepping closer to examine it. “...something this old, and yet it's still locked? Or wait, how old is that lock? Metal like this would rust through over the thousand plus years. Did nopony find this?”
“Oh, this old place is a little...off the beaten path,” Discord said, waving a claw towards the structure. “These days, most anypony who comes to Maretania does it to explore the eponymous Mines, or to talk to the tribal locals. No one comes out here. It's perfectly isolated. Perfectly lonely. Perfectly...boring.”
“Then why are we here?” Painwheel said, looking around the rocky landscape. A few copses of trees grew here or there in the valleys, but otherwise the place was barren. “What's this 'errand' you need me to run?”
“Ah, yes.” Discord cleared his throat. “As you can probably imagine, we're here for the temple. Specifically, there's a thing inside I need. A bag; satchel, to be precise. It's in there – right at the end of the chamber, on a pedestal. You can't miss it.”
“A satchel?” Painwheel said.
“How do you know it's even there?” Twilight asked. “If it's been there centuries, it's probably decayed to nothing by now.”
“It's there,” Discord said with finality. “No doubt, it's in there. Moreover, it's magic. Twilight, my dear, you of all ponies should know how well magical artifacts stand the test of time.” He rubbed his hands together. “Hence...its value.”
“Oh,” Twilight said. “I guess that does make sense.”
“Then why don't you get it yourself?” Painwheel asked, pointing a thumb at the door. “Didn't you make mountains out of mole hills? What's stopping you from just poofing it out?”
Discord winced uncomfortably, eying the symbols that snaked across the door frame. “Unfortunately, this thing is guarded by some strong wards. The kind that were made specifically to keep beings like me out. It's strong magic, writ by the ancient Maretanian mage-priests against all the evils of the world at the time...which included me.”
“And why exactly,” Twilight asked, eyebrow raised, “would they want to keep you out?”
“Well you remember the kind of person I was,” Discord said defensively. “Maybe they just wanted to keep their temples safe from me, and every other would-be conqueror. It's flattering, really.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Or maybe they did it out of spite. Who knows?”
“Discord...I-”
A loud crash erupted from the door, startling Twilight from her thought.
Twilight and Discord looked towards the entrance. At the door, Painwheel lifted her fist from it, rusted metal clattering to the ground. She dusted off her knuckles, then kicked the metal pieces away. The field clear, she seized the hand-holds, pulling back. Her muscles strained at the weight. Finally, grudgingly, the double doors gave, screeching loudly.
Painwheel winced, ducking her head reflexively, as though it would stop the noise. Powering through, she heaved the doors back, rotating roughly on rusted hinges. The parasites in her body coiled and writhed, as much for the clamor as for the exertion.
Finally, Painwheel threw the doors open wide, bathing the immediate inside with sunlight.
Her nose was assaulted by the scent of mildew. A wave of dust crashed against her, making Painwheel wave it away lest the particles cause her to sneeze.
She looked over her shoulder. “In here?”
“Yes, Painwheel,” Discord nodded. “All the way in the back.”
Painwheel nodded, preparing to step inside.
“Wait, Painwheel!” Twilight called, reaching out a hoof. When Painwheel paused without looking back, Twilight continued, “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“It's just this one thing, and I'm done, right?” Painwheel said.
“Right,” Discord said, nodding, arms folded.
“Are there traps?”
“Might have been, though I don't know if they're still functional,” Discord said, stroking his beard. “The years work wonders on-”
“Good to know,” Painwheel said, walking forward. As she passed inside, she noted how the doorway had a clearly delineated line marking the entrance on the floor. She crossed the threshold without a second glance.
She walked into the temple...and nothing happened.
Painwheel continued walking, glancing around. Immediately inside, the room opened up into a hall, a central aisle running down the center with a high ceiling. To either side, pillars of various states of ruin held up the vaulted roof. Some of them were merely cracked, while others long ago broke and fell to the floor. Rocks and ceiling tiles littered such spots, where the roof had partially given way. Light poured in from the door, casting deep shadows behind pillars and in corners. A rat scuttled around, but fled as the intruder approached.
A long shadow spread out ahead of Painwheel, a cross of angular blades shading the back of the room. She couldn't see properly for the shadow, but pressed on regardless.
In the rough center of the hall, halfway along its length, the floor tiles sank down, a spiderweb of cracks radiating from an indent. Painwheel walked around the impact crater, giving it a wide berth; wary of the source, yet also interested in letting the light shine upon it.. Fragments of tile were broken off and littered the ground around it. Looking up to the ceiling, Painwheel could still see nothing, wondering it some trap were set there and, if one were, if it would go off again.
With no sign of trouble, she walked on.
Traveling slowly, eyes darting back and forth for potential traps but encountering none, Painwheel came to the foot of a small set of steps leading up. Four or five such steps led to a raised platform. Moving away from the source of the light had shrunk the shadow, until it was small enough that she could make out what lay at the end of the hall.
Atop the steps was a stone altar, carved richly in much the same manner as the rest of the building; all hieroglyphs and esoteric writings, and symbols of pony skulls. Sitting on top of the altar was a simple leather satchel, covered in dust but otherwise in pristine condition.
It was a brief moment before it occurred to Painwheel that the bag's leather construction would come off as deeply disturbing to Equestrian culture.
Painwheel climbed the stairs carefully, methodically. When she reached the top – when she could tower over the altar and examine the bag – she stepped aside and turned around. “This one?” she called out, her voice echoing about the hall.
Twilight and Discord stood at the door, just beyond the threshold. The avatar of chaos gave a thumbs up. “That's the one!” he called. He pointed to the foot of the doorway. “Bring it on over here, and your side of the bargain will be fulfilled.”
Painwheel nodded, then turned back to the altar. She examined it from multiple angles, leaning down to check the bottom. She didn't see any sort of pressure plate, but that could easily be immediately underneath and out of sight. Gingerly, she ran her fingers over the surface of the stone slab. They came away covered in dust, tracks left on the surface. Painwheel drummed her knuckles against the stone, leaning her head close to the stone. It sounded solid.
Wary still but exhausted of concrete ideas as to how the altar could be booby-trapped, Painwheel stood in front and reached out a hand. Her shadow fell over the bag. Her muscles tensed. Slowly...methodically...
Her hand grasped hold of the handles of the satchel and pulled it away. She jumped back, feet bracing on the edge of the raised platform. Painwheel locked eyes upon that partially shadowed altar, her whole body a coiled spring.
The altar was bare. Seconds passed. Nothing happened.
Finally, the human exhaled, patting her chest. A rapid search around her to make sure no other threats were imminent, then she lifted the bag up to the light. Upon closer inspection, it revealed a number of scuff marks, as well as water damage along the bottom. Sheets of hide were sewn together with thick leather cords, and the handles were similarly woven from leather. An ancient, tarnished brass clasp held the bag closed. Right to the side of the clasp, a circle design was etched.
Examining the circle, Painwheel tilted her head quizzically. The design in the circle was intricate; complicated. She could make neither heads nor tails of it. She shook the bag. It was surprisingly light, though not too light.
She thought, is there something in here?
“Come on, come on!” Discord called, jumping up and down. He looked...agitated. “We haven't got all day!” He planted his feet on the ground. “Uh, I mean...come along, dear. Sooner you bring the bag here, the sooner you get your reward.”
Twilight Sparkle looked up at Discord suspiciously.
Whatever, Painwheel thought, letting her arm drop. I don't care what's in the bag. It's not my problem.
She walked down the steps, heading into the light. The glare discomforted her, and she shielded her eyes with her other hand.
Painwheel was three paces from the altar when she sensed something behind her. She was beginning to whirl around when a great weight slammed into her.
“Ugh!” she cried, tumbling back. The force knocked her off her feet and into the air. The satchel slipped from her grasp as she traveled, the room spinning around her and she flipped. With a smack, she slammed to the ground, then skid another few feet. The Buar Drive blades scrapped the floor tiles, her whole body kicking up dust as it slid to a stop.
“Painwheel!” Twilight gasped, clutching her cheeks. She made to ran forward, but a lion's paw shot out and barred her way. “Wha-? Discord?”
Discord merely shook his head, sadly. “This is Painwheel's quest, Twilight. You mustn't interfere.” He wagged an eagle talon at her.
“...bullcrap!” Twilight spat, looking back towards the fallen human. “Painwheel! Are you alright?”
“...guh...” Painwheel grunted, her body twisting on the ground. Her side hurt. The parasites didn't help. Wearily, she planted a hand beneath her and pushed herself to her hands and knees. “Muh...ack!” She began coughing, dust being hacked from her lungs. “Cough...cough...gack...” Painwheel raised her head and looked bleary-eyed towards the light. “...wh...cough...what was...” She pushed herself up, then looked over her shoulder.
Painwheel choked.
The shadow she cast upon the ground rolled and writhed. From within its mass, a great back arm stuck out. It twitched, fingers contracting and relaxing, into and out of a fist. Fastened to the wrist was a heavy manacle.
“Wh...what?” Painwheel said. She glanced at her arm. At the iron ring stuck to her own wrist.
The arm planted itself on the ground, braced against it. Another black arm, similar to the last, shot out of Painwheel's shadow and braced itself against the floor, crunching a loose tile audibly. An arched back began to appear, then its shoulders, topped with spiky protrusions.
“What is that?” Twilight said.
“Oh...no...” Painwheel said, sweat forming on her brow.
A hunched, emaciated figure stood up, bony feet planted on the ground. “Grrrr...” it growled. It lifted its head, crowned by a skull and a set of three nails. “Mrrr!” It looked up towards Painwheel, its face covered by a featureless dark mask; its eyes glowed bright yellow. Behind its back, a metal tail whipped, hauling a slab of black steel. Motors whirred to life, and the slab unfurled into a pinwheel of sharp blades. To complete the effect, the blades spun loudly, a screeching cacophony that pierced the air. The force of the spinning blades blew dust outward in all directions. Then the blades stopped, and the figure continued to stare.
“In the name of the creator, Faust, I command thee...In!”
It writhed and flowed, recoiling under the edict. It probed around, searching for the smallest respite. A single escape. A place to hide. Where it would not be exposed as it were.
But the sun was high; directly overhead. There would be no shadows. None...save their trap. It knew it for a trap, and they knew it knew.
“I rebuke you, stubborn demon! Rebuke you in the name of Faust in heaven, and all her angels! IN!”
It tried the sides again. Perhaps it missed some hole in the circle. But no, the lines were drawn by expert hooves. Master craftwizards were employed, and they circled around chanting their litanies, writ long ago in forgotten tongues.
Had to be a way out. Some small crack. Some forgotten shade. Some escape from the soul-searing words.
“Now, demon! Foul, spiteful spirit from the abyss! On this day – Sun Day – I seal thee! By all good things – love, law, divine perfection – I decree thee stay!”
“Didalos malos viros fa. Scorponat fa ballos ma.”
“Shome hallach nie, shome hallach nie. I bid thee stay. For so long as this seal holds, ne'er shall thou trouble the earth. For as yet the seal remains unbroken, hide away in the darkness that holds thy fancy so! And by Faust on high, remember well this command: for so long as thy prison remain here, thou shalt be thy strictest jailer! Thy greatest warden! The prohibition against freedom shall be enforced by yourself!
“Hear this decree, and obey.”
Auras bore the satchel up, sliding it through the air. Beyond the threshold of the temple it traveled. Into that holy place. Into the empty darkness.
“Didalos malos viros fa. Scorponat fa ballos ma.”
“Obey!”
It despaired.
“In Faust the Creator's name, OBEY!”
Present Day
“What the hell is this?”
Painwheel staggered to her feet, her Buar Drive whipping around to assist in balancing her weight. She rubbed her sore side, eyes never straying from the shadow. “What the fuck is your game, Discord!?”
Twilight Sparkle turned to Discord, flashing an infuriated, confused expression. “Discord, I swear to Celestia...”
The dranconequus waved his paws. “Now, now,” he said.
“You lied to me, you bastard!” Painwheel shouted, fists clenched. “Discord, when I get over to you...”
The shadow...tilted its head. To Painwheel's surprise – and trepidation – the figure leaned over to look around the human. It tilted its head even further.
Discord pretended not to notice. “I assure you, my dear, I haven't lied,” he called, shaking his head. “I even told you there might be traps. My offer still stands.”
He pointed to the satchel, which sat halfway between Painwheel and her doppelganger. “All you need to do is retrieve that satchel,” Discord called, “and bring it here.” He swept his hands before him at the ground, gesturing to the temple threshold. “Beyond this door, and the guardian cannot follow. Bring it to me, and this will all end. Convenient, no?”
Painwheel looked back to see the dranconequus gesture so. Then she turned back to the shadow. Her eyes strayed to the satchel.
The figure looked to the satchel, too, then back to Discord, and then finally to Painwheel. It stiffened its stance, hands clenching to fists. It spread it legs, hunching low to the ground. Pausing. Waiting.
“Buh...wuh...guh...” Twilight sputtered. “No Discord, this is asinine! We don't know what that thing is! Or how to fight it! This is lunacy! This is-”
“Alright!”
Painwheel stooped, readying her own battle stance. It felt eerie, looking upon her shadow; how it mirrored her own posture, her own movements. Even before seeing her in action, it was already moving like her.
That wouldn't stop her. “Discord, you son of a bitch,” Painwheel barked, fists at the ready. “I accept!” Her crimson eyes locked with the saffron eyes of her clone. “Come on!” she yelled.
The griffin soldier tumbled through the air. The world spun with him, blurring across his eyes. “Argh!”
“RRRAAAGH!”
A black griffin, clad in similar armor, dove from above and slammed into the soldier, pushing them both into the ground.
“ACK!” the soldier gasped. Feathers, dust, and broken floor tiles were thrown up. The ground caved under the griffin's back, forming a minor crater. “Hock!” Blood erupted from his mouth. He clawed the air, then at the shadow crushing him. Ponies of every color stood around, shaking or gasping in horror.
Cadmium eagle eyes looked down upon the griffin.
“Off, demon!”
The shade looked up sharply. A bright beam of radiant golden light struck the dark griffin in the face. “Grah!” it squawked, spinning across the room. It bounced and settled in a heap. One armor-clad pony jumped back in surprise.
“Ah...cough...old...codger...” the soldier wheezed, bright red blood flowing down his beak.
Ponies parted to either side from their defensive formation. A figure walked between them.
“Stand back, Greifswald. You are injured.” A pony – withered by age but standing tall like a mountain – walked by the downed griffin. Upon his head was a large, most peculiar hat. A gray beard billowed and swayed with his talking. A horn adorned his head. It shined with a golden aura, to match the old stallion's golden eyes.
Golden, glowing eyes looked up from the ground some paces away. The dark griffin rose to lion and eagle feet, wings raised aggressively. “Hurr...?”
The unicorn stepped forward. “Fiend from the dark! You will trouble my companions no more! For now you fight the master of magic!” He reared back, front legs kicking the air. “Starswirl, the Bearded!”
The shade responded by losing its shape.
“What the deuce?” Starswirl exclaimed, taking a ready stance. His horn remained lit.
“It's...it's happening...cough...again!” The griffin soldier backed away, eagle claw clutching his chest. “Soldiers! S-soldiers...cough...stand ready!”
“Greifswald,” said Starswirl, exasperated, “what in Tartarus is...what?” His keen eyes grew wide.
The mighty shadow had shrunk, reduced itself. It stood a withered figure on four hooves. A black hat adorned its head, as did an obsidian horn. Darkness flowed from its chin, a beard composed of black hairs that lost itself in the shadows. Eyes glowing like flickering candles peeked out from under the hat.
“It's...S-starswirl!” Greifswald coughed.
“Oh...dear...” Starswirl mumbled.
The shadow reared up, head held high. Its horn flashed yellow. It stomped on the ground, and the horn lit up like the sun. A great wind burst forth in front of the shadow, sweeping out.
Ponies flew back for the force of the explosion. Screams rang in the air.
Starswirl the Bearded press his horn before him, its light cutting a swath that parted the river of wind to either side of him. “Hrrrrraah!”
When the explosion subsided, dozens of soldiers lay scattered around the hall.
Greifswald called out, huddled as he was behind the wizard, “Everyone out! Re-COUGH-t-treat!” He hacked blood all over his claws. He waved at his troops towards the door.
None were long in filing out. Dust billowed up where they trod.
The griffin turned to the wizard and his copy. He was blinded by a flash of light. “Ah! St-starswirl...old c-codger!” he called.
Lightning sprang up from either unicorn, meeting between them in a bright convergence point. The bolt born from Starswirl's horn shone like gold. The lightning spawned from the shadow was a sickly yellow, like that of piss. These arcs met in the middle, where smaller electrical charges arced to the ground rapidly.
“Greifswald!” Starswirl shouted, straining under the effort. Despite the light, he stared forward resolute. “Go! We cannot fight this monster here! I will follow shortly!”
“...right!” Greifswald nodded, then spread his wings. They carried him to the door, where he rolled through. A pony helped him to his feet, and he shuffled weakly away from the threshold.
Inside, the wizard summoned an extra burst of mana, directing his will against his opponent. His golden lightning surged, causing the place of arcane meeting to swell in brightness and power. At the last moment, the old stallion cut off the spell, simultaniously weaving a simple one of air walking. Wind flowed to his hooves, pushing him back and away.
The shade's lightning struck the ground, and the creature cut off its spell. It searched the spot, only to see the wizard flying out the door.
Starswirl the Bearded landed on the stones outside, his cape whipping in the evening wind. His head shot up. “Prepare yourselves! It comes!”
The entire company rushed into formation, weapons trained at the opening. Pegasi took to the sky, Earth ponies on the ground. Starswirl – the group's sole unicorn – stood firm with horn alight by aura. Even Greifswald took up a torch, knowing he remained too injured to fight but unwilling to stand by useless. All eyes were set on the temple entrance.
For a moment they waited...then they grew antsy. The shadow did not come out.
Cocking an eyebrow, Starswirl the Bearded walked to the doorway, peering inside.
Within, the doppelganger appraised the original. A few torches lay abandoned on the floor, but visibility was still poor for the shadows and dust. Piss-yellow eyes stood out from the dark.
Finally, the shade walked sideways...and picked up a brown satchel from the ground. It turned its back on the door, and walked further in.
“Hmm?” Starswirl said, studying the creature. “...hmm...oh...I see...”
“What?” Greifswald said, hobbling up and peering inside. “What is happening? What do you see?”
“Whose satchel is that?”
“Uh...”
The two turned around. An earth pony shuffled over, peering inside. “I found that satchel on an altar. I thought it was...”
Starswirl groaned. “Ugh! You fool!” He leaned his head in, face nearly touching that of the soldier. The soldier leaned back uncomfortably.
“What? What is the matter?” Greifswald said, wiping blood from his beak. “Are we not in battle still?”
“Nay, Greifswald, we are not.” The wizard sighed. He pointed a hoof towards the altar. “See how the shapeshifter returns the satchel to its proper place?”
One look in the gloom proved, indeed, the shadow placing the bag to the altar. “Yes?” the griffin said, scratching his head. His blood splattered talon stained a few of his cranial feathers in the act.
“It is obviously a guardian, then,” Starswirl said. He spied the shadow dissolving into nothing and melting into the floor. “Somepony – ancient Maretanian, by the look of these ruins – sealed that bag away, and bound an abyssal shadow, or some other dark specter, to the site to guard it. It will not travel beyond the walls of this temple, and will fight so long as its charge is threatened with theft.” He cast a dirty look to the earth pony soldier.
“Then what do we do, wizard?” Greifswald said, casting fervid glances towards at the darkness.
“Summon the smiths,” Starlswirl said, walking away. “Have them cast a lock from cold iron, and use it to seal these doors. Make no key. Whatsoever remains in that satchel, it will do no creature good to go after it.
“Seal the door. And hope whatever was meant to be locked away remains so. Permanently.”
A pale hand grasps for a leather strap. An ebony fist catches a belly. Thorns sprout from its skin, piercing soft flesh.
Painwheel gasped, hand falling short. “Oof...ha...ack!” She looked down, vision swimming. Her other hand groped around her stomach, catching a cold arm. A black mass was sunk into her belly. Painwheel looked up. “Ack...”
The shade retracted its fist, spikes sliding back into place. Were they retreating into shadow flesh...or merely a whole dark mass reforming? The shade pulled its fist back, then smacked Painwheel in the face.
The human staggered backwards, clutching her face with one hand and her stomach with the other.
“Shit...grrh...fuck!” she said, swaying about, until she regained proper foot. She rubbed her cheek. Casting a glance to the shadow creature, she brought up her other hand. It was splashed with a smear of thick, black blood. Her belly stung horribly, but she could feel it closing uncomfortably.
It growled. She remembered vaguely not having breakfast.
The shadow watched her, expression hidden, assuming the mask wasn't its face.
The mask. Why the mask? “Grah!” Painwheel grunted, lunging. Her fist sailed just shy of the shade's face. It coiled its right arm back for an overhead punch, but Painwheel caught it with her left. She raised a foot, muscles tightening. She kicked at the shade's stomach, parasites stinging as they pierced her flesh and the shade's.
“Guh!” Staggering back, the shade planted its feet. The blades on its back spun up, then came crashing towards Painwheel. Loud, mechanical ringing filled the air.
The buzzsaw cut across Painwheel's arm. “Hrah!” she cried, gritting her teeth. Resisting the urge to clutch her arm, she spun up her own Buar Drive. Painwheel kicked from the ground with one foot, spinning on the other foot and rotating. Her buzzsaw swept horizontally, meeting the shade's blades as they came for another pass around. They clanged, sparks firing off where they engaged.
Painwheel stooped to all fours, face upturned to watch her opponent. The Buar Drive hung above her, like a scorpion tail, then shot out. The shade raised its Buar defensively, ebony shoulder braced against the flat of ebony blade. More sparks flew where Painwheel's blades hammered against it.
The shade, reeling back, pushed forward, knocking both fighters' blades away.
There, Painwheel thought. Her arms straightened out, palms down, taking her full weight. Tucking her legs under her, Painwheel kicked with both. Gae Bolga parasites fired out across her limbs. Her feet and spikes caught the shade in the chest.
“Bruh!” the shade grunted, knocked off its feet and onto its butt. It rolled over, Buar Drives flailing in the air wildly.
The parasites in her legs retracting, Painwheel got her feet under her and scrambled for the satchel. She snatched it up, then starting running.
“Go, Painwheel, Go!” Twilight called, leaning against the door frame.
“Go Painwheel, she's our girl!” Discord cheered. Literally, he cheered, with pom poms and uniform and everything. He hopped from one foot to another. “If she can't do it, I might just hu-”
The sound of rushing wind.
“Gah!” Painwheel cried, eyes going wide. She stumbled, a sharp pain running up her leg. She tried to right herself, to keep running, but her ankle stung, even more than usual, and refused to bear her weight. She fell over, an outstretched hand slipping on a broken tile. She noticed she was right around that crushed portion of the floor. Her arm spun from under her, and she landed hard on her shoulder. “ARGH!”
She winced, hissing out air. Forcing an eye open, she looked to her leg. A black spike protruded from her ankle, but it wasn't one of hers. “Bwuh?” she said, bending her knee and twisting her foot closer. The spike – black as pitch – began to dissolve into smoke before her eyes. “Ugh!”
Painwheel looked back into the room. The shade was raising an arm out, and shaking. Its flesh writhed, barely visible in the dark. Bulges formed there.
“Shit...shit!” Painwheel said, pushing herself up. She winced, clasping the satchel-bearing hand to her shoulder. She hopped on her good foot, the other still knitting back together.
“Humf!” the shade grunted.
Painwheel gasped, a sharp sensation in her back. She fell forward again. Two spikes protruded from her back.
“Painwheel!” Twilight called.
“Hah...guh...ack,” Painwheel wheezed, propped up with one arm. “Ah!” The arm gave way, as it was held up by her damaged shoulder. The satchel slipped from her grasp, thudding to the floor beside her.
“Painwheel!” Twilight screamed, held back by the arms of Discord. “Let go of me! I have to help her!”
“No!” Painwheel coughed, lifting herself up with her good arm. “I can do this myself!” She planted her damaged foot down, the spike dissolved and the damage mended. Painwheel coughed and heaved, wincing. Gritting her teeth, she raised her bad arm and, heedless of the still-mending shoulder, twisted it over. “Argh!” Her hand found the spikes, gripped them, and yanked them out, a spray of black blood briefly flying out. With hate in her heart, she cast the smoking spikes to the ground with a clatter.
She looked over her shoulder. She broke out into a sweat.
The shade was hugging the ground, its Buar Drive spinning rapidly on the floor and digging into it. Shards of tile and dust flew up, traction building up in the blades.
“...oh no...” Twilight said.
“Oh my,” Discord said.
“Oh...shit!” Painwheel said, trying desperately to drag herself to her feet.
“RRRAGH!”
As soon as she had her feet under her, Painwheel braced herself with her Buar Drive behind her. No sooner had she done so that a fast moving shadow monster slammed into her, propelled by a high speed Buar Drive. “AAAH!” she screamed, thrown aside by the force of the impact. She sailed into a pillar, banging her head against the stone. “Gah!” The satchel fell to the ground a few paces distant.
The shade sped on towards the mouth of the temple.
“Ah!” Twilight shouted.
“Eeeek!” Discord shrieked in a high voice, jumping into Twilight's forelegs and wrapping his arms around her neck.
But the shade slowed to a stop just shy of the temple entrance. The faux Buar Drive detached from the floor, tiny shards of tile dropping from it. A cloud of dust ambled past, the shade rising on muscular, emaciated legs.
It raised a black arm over its head, shielding its eyes from the sun. It looked at Discord intently.
“Oh...hello there.” Discord smiled skittishly, wiggling fingers in a timid wave.
“Grrrr...” the shade growled.
“Hey...bastard!”
The shade looked over its shoulder curiously. “Mmrr?”
Painwheel rose from the ground, supporting herself against the pillar. Rubbing her head gingerly, she barked, “yeah! Y-you! We're not...done...you hear me?” Panting, she took a battle stance, eying the shade and the satchel in turn.
The shade eyed the bag too. Then it growled, advancing towards Painwheel methodically. Dust billowed up where it stepped, and it started running.
Gritting her teeth, Painwheel spun up her Buar Drive. The doppelganger spun up its blades in response.
Then Painwheel took her blades to the pillar.
“Grah?” the shade grumbled, stopping in its tracks. It watched, tilting its head in confusion.
Painwheel's buzzsaw dug into the stone pillar. Rocks and dust flew off in all directions. The sound was deafening. Finally, the stone fractured, the blades pushing through and out the other side.
The shade tilted its head the other way, then looked around.
The human sucked in air. Then she threw her arms over her head, wrapping around the pillar. “Haaaaaah...” She pulled, muscles straining, parasites writhing uncomfortably. Blood vessels engorged under the strain. “...haaaaaah...” She braced her feet against the ground. Her breath was ragged. “Hhhhhaaaaa!”
Crack.
The doppelganger looked up to the ceiling. The very top of the pillar cracked, then broke off completely.
“S-SMASH!”
The shade looked to Painwheel just in time to see the human heave the broken pillar right at it. “Gha-?”
Slam.
A metric ton – or thereabouts – rammed into Painwheel's doppelganger. Knocking the shadow off its feet, the pillar careened across the room, crashing to the ground with a sickening crunch. The pillar bounced once, hitting the ground again and cracking in two. The halves bounced no more, but rolled away. An enormous cloud of dust rose from the impact sight, obscuring what the darkness alone did not.
Twilight Sparkle and Discord – the latter still held up by the former – stared in shock. Then they turned towards Painwheel.
The human panted and wheezed heavily, arms hanging limply at her sides. Her sweat-matted chest heaved.
“...go...t-to...hell...” she gasped, pointing towards the dust cloud.
“Yeah! Good wo-” Twilight cheered, then turned to Discord, who yet remained in her forelegs. The draconequus smiled at her. She let him drop to the ground. “Good work, Painwheel!” Twilight said, banging her front hooves together.
“Ugh...yes, that's right young lady,” Discord said, rubbing his rump gingerly. “Good job. Now hurry over with that satchel.”
Painwheel nodded. She spied the satchel, and walked over, picking it up. Carrying it loosely, she began the trek to the door. White light spilled in, interrupted by the dark silhouettes of an alicorn pony and a chimerical being. Though she felt weary, the human felt as though a weight were lifted from her shoulders.
“GRRRAAAAGH!”
Painwheel turned suddenly. From the cloud of dust in the corner, her doppelganger vaulted into the air, blades spinning like a helicopter.
“Wha-?”
The shade dived, tackling Painwheel to the floor, spikes extended spitefully.
“AGH!” Painwheel screamed, her flesh pierced by semi-ephemeral spikes. Dust rose to the air as the two landed in a heap, casting long shadows in the light that danced across her eyes.
“Painwheel!” Twilight gasped.
“Hrrh,” breathed the shade, straddling the human. It's glowing golden eyes swept over her, then settled on her hand. It reached and grabbed the satchel by its leather strap, pulling on it.
“Huh? Rah?” Painwheel grunted, feeling the tug on the line. She scowled, pulling back on the strap. “No! Fuck off!” Putting a foot under her, Painwheel pulled her fist back. She threw a punch, landing on the shade's cheek.
The shade in turn tugged harder, throwing a jab or two at Painwheel.
The two combatants continued like this, a back-and-forth tug-of-war. Tug, jab. Tug, jab. Jab, jab, tug. Growl, tug, jab.
Tug. Snap.
The strap of the satchel broke, sending the two tumbling away from each other.
“Uh!” Painwheel said, falling to the ground. Her muscles screamed out, the parasites protesting as they always did. She rubbed her battered cheek, messaged her struck nose, a tiny trickle of thick black blood falling to her lips. She wiped it away, dragging herself to her feet, though her joints were sore for doing it. As if gravity were another of her enemies. She looked to the ground at her feet.
The shade, having clambered to its feet as well, similarly looked to the ground.
The satchel lay where it was dropped. Its leather shoulder strap was broken, but it was otherwise unharmed.
Scarlet eyes, set in black, met cadmium eyes, set in black.
Painwheel tensed her arm, flexing muscles. It hurt, as it always did. That only made her more eager. She barred her teeth.
They both stepped forward. Their fists clenched. As they pulled back, electricity danced across their bodies. Painwheel sniffed ozone, that familiar scent.
“GRRRAAAAH!”
“DIE!”
Stepping right into striking range. Two fighters. Two punches. They impacted in each others' faces. Both recoiled for the force, audible thuds resounding in unison. Black blood sprayed from Painwheel's busted nose. Black smoke puffed from the shade's face. A tiny cracking sound could be heard, a tiny piece of something hard flying off and clattering to the floor. It issued smoke as well; not soft was it, like Painwheel's leather mask, but hard like pottery.
The two combatants straightened out, reached back, sparked lightning, and collided again. They knocked each other in the face, both staggering sideways, then swaying back up. Then a third time, together once more.
Their eyes met again. Red. Yellow. Red. Yellow.
Painwheel heaved, spitting out a thick globule of blood. She turned and bent over, sweeping her leg and catching the shade with her heel, foot sailing high over her. The shadow reeled briefly, then planted a hand on the ground and swept its leg horizontally. It smacked Painwheel on the side, who threw a punch to the shadow's shoulder, thudding audibly and cutting with a spike. Smoke rose from the wound.
A shade punch; dodged under. Painwheel's kick; blocked with both forearms. The shade's Buar Drive spun up, slicing down. Painwheel sidestepped it, then began to spark with electricity. She lunged forward, shoulder checking the shade. It staggered then lunged itself, drawing low, spitting electricity, and uppercut, spikes shooting up with it that cut across Painwheel's back.
Painwheel jabs once, twice. One blocked, another not. Painwheel followed by spinning, connecting with a roundhouse kick. Shade jab, then low kick, that stabs Painwheel's leg. Painwheel and her shadow swing with Buar Drives. Their spinning blades connect over their heads, showing them with sparks. They connect again, together, with blades. Whirling metal bounced off whirling metal once, twice, then remained in a steady contact. Sparks flew wide, a cacophony ringing out and echoing throughout the temple.
The shade threw a punch, but Painwheel caught it in her hand. She tried a punch herself, but it was in turn caught by the doppelganger. The two combatants locked their hands, then pushed in close. Painwheel stood face to face with the shade, eyes a hand's width apart.
“Grrr!” the shade growled.
“Haaaaah!” Painwheel breathed.
They remained locked for several seconds.
Right in front of her, Painwheel could see the mask that may or may not have been the doppelganger's whole face. The light from outside played across the creature's surface. While it was shadow matter in principle, it had a sheen of sorts. And along that surface, just below those golden eyes, was a hard line. A seam. A crack.
Painwheel didn't hesitate. “GRRRAAH!” She pulled back, then slammed her forehead into the shade's face.
“Rah!” the shade exclaimed, head jerking back. It blinked, yellow glow cutting in and out rapidly.
Her forehead gained a red spot, but Painwheel kept at it. She performed another headbutt, and then another. Each time, her cranium slammed into a hard surface, each time causing a loud crack. Each time, the fractures grew bigger.
It was such a poor decision, Painwheel realized, to attack directly with the forehead. She was getting a headache. It made her furious. “AAAARGH!” she yelled, pulling back one last time. Electricity rolled off her body. Painwheel struck the shade's face with all her strength. She came away dizzy.
“Ah!” the shade said. Shards of black material flew off its face. A cloud of black smoke poured out.
Blinking away the tears forming in her eyes, Painwheel looked at the shade. “...uh...oh...”
It seemed new. Half of Painwheel's face, formed from shadows, looking out upon her sternly. A bushy eyebrow, bent low over a golden glowing eye. One half of a mouth turned down at the edges.
It cringed in pain, then became resolute.
“Rah!” it growled, leaning back. It fell backwards, dragging Painwheel down.
“Wah!” Painwheel said, arms being yanked uncomfortably. She tried to resist the pull...but the shade had an irresistible mass. Was she herself that heavy? “Gah!” She lost her footing, falling forward.
The shade raised a foot and planted it squarely in Painwheel's stomach. As the human fell atop it, the doppelganger kicked against her with all its might, pushing it up and over.
“What the...fuck!” Painwheel said, flipping head over heels. She lost all sense of orientation, the ground and scenery blurring past. Losing her grip on the shade's hands, Painwheel landed hard on her back. “Argh!”
She craned her neck back, then paused.
“What's happening?” Twilight called.
The shade, head also bent backwards, raised its hands and bent its knees. Its muscles tightened, electricity sparking off.
Oh no, Painwheel thought, heart hammering in her chest.
“DEATH...”
Long thorns shot from the shade's wrists and feet. Bending arms and legs down, it planted the spikes on the ground, then pushed. Rising from the ground, the shadow loomed like a huge spider. Its Buar Drive hung below it, and began spinning.
Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit! Painwheel only had time to raise her arms in front of her face.
“CRAWL!” The shade walked.
It crab walked over Painwheel, the Buar Drive dragged over her as it went.
“PAINWHEEL!”
“AAAAAAAAAAHHHH!”
“Oh nuts!”
Spike reached out a claw, but the handle drifted just beyond his reach. He watched as the teapot dropped to the floor, shattering upon impact. As the clatter died down, shards scattered in all directions.
“...haybiscuits...” Spike said, shoulders slumped. Mindful of the sharp porcelain, he hopped off the step-stool and retrieved a broom and dustpan. “And that was one of Twilight favorites, too.”
Carefully, Spike gathered the pieces, thankful there were mostly large shards. He would hate to wander into the kitchen in the middle of the night, and unknowingly cut his foot on one. Or was in possible to cut through his scales? It was a question he didn't want answered anytime soon.
He placed the teapot pieces on the counter, examining them. Spike picked up two pieces, both bearing paint. “Hmm...”
The two halves formed the picture of the Freesia*.
“Oh dear,” he said, frowning. He suddenly had a bad feeling.
Painwheel screamed.
“Painwheel!”
The shade hauled itself to its feet, stilt-like thorns retracted. It glanced down.
“Sweet Celestia no! Painwheel!”
The human lay on the ground, curled into a ball. “Aaaaah!” she cried in pain. Cuts wept and bubbled with viscous black blood, all across her body. Several places on her arms, legs, and abdomen sported puncture wounds. Her new Qipao – sewn lovingly by Rarity – was tattered, torn, and stained by droplets of black. Painwheel shivered, fingers clutching her arms.
“Painwheel!”
Twilight Sparkle struggled against the mismatched limbs hugging her. Kicked and writhed. “Let go of me, Discord! This isn't a game, damn it!” Tears ran down the alicorn's cheeks. “Painwheel! Painwheel I'm coming!” She flailed harder. “Discord! Let. Me. GO! UGH!”
“No. Absolutely not.” The avatar of chaos tightened his grip. His voice was hard.
Twilight stopped flailing – so hard anyway – and turned briefly to the dranconequus.
Discord stared at the scene before him. He planted his lion paw on Twilight's head. “This creature isn't just some dumb monster you can overpower or outsmart, Princess. Old magic, the likes not seen in this world in a hundred lifetimes, binds this being here. And it isn't limited to any form, but can appear as its opponent. It is not a guardian, but a true shadow of its enemy.
“It has all of Painwheel's capabilities...and all her skills. It knows her better than she knows herself. She is fighting her dark reflection.” Discord turned Twilight's head so she stared right at the doppelganger. “And if it's a matter of multiples, there's no question. It will assume the form of the most powerful combatant.” He jerked Twilight's head suddenly. “What would happen if it copied your powers, huh? Or mine?” Discord shook his head, letting Twilight's go. “The results would be devastating. No...this is her fight, and her fight alone.”
Fresh, salty tears flowed from Twilight's eyes. She sniffed. “Painwheel...” She didn't struggle anymore.
On the floor, amid black-splattered tiles, Painwheel rolled over on her front. “Gaaah!” she gasped, shaking like a leaf. A palm found the ground, supporting her. She hissed, eyes clasped shut. Tears rolled down her face. Painwheel cracked a red-and-black eye open.
Three paces away, the shade stood, feet spread apart. Shining yellow eyes watched Painwheel passively. The exposed section of its face displayed no emotion, though the eye remained open unnaturally wide.
The satchel lay at the shade's feet.
Painwheel turned to stare at the floor.
“Painwheel...” Twilight said softly. Her ears were drooped. “You're hurt. Hurt...really bad. Just...just let it go. You don't have to do this to yourself.”
The human's fingers flexed, bending until they angled hard, tips digging against the hard tile. Tear drops – and a little blood – dribbled to the floor. Painwheel shook all over.
She gritted her teeth. “I can't do that.”
The shade standing above tilted its head.
“I...I have to do it,” Painwheel said, working to get a knee under her. “He's right...that bastard over there is right...” She sniffed. “It's not about getting what I want anymore...I can't give up now, and negotiate for some other deal...I don't want what I want if it means just getting it. I can't...I...
“...I want...to win!”
The shade leaned back slightly. Almost imperceptibly...it opened its mouth. Its fingers wiggled...shook. An involuntary movement not quite surpressed.
Shuffling to her knees, Painwheel pulled a leg up and planted her hand upon her knee. Her breath was ragged. She felt...heavy. She WAS heavy, but she felt it all the more. With all her strength, she heaved, forcing herself to her feet.
Immediately, her vision swam. Painwheel swayed back and forth, drunkenly wobbling about for balance. She realized – hazily – the Buar Drive was just extra weight. A mental impulse collapsed the blades into one solid bar, and planted it on the ground. It served as a third pillar, allowing Painwheel to balance finally. Eyes wandering over her body, she noted how her wounds were less severe, but not by nearly enough. Many of her cuts and stab wounds had stopped bleeding so much, but were far from healed. Some simply did not change. Painwheel felt profoundly drained.
I have nothing left, she thought. My body is trying to heal itself, and has nothing to work with. I'm running on empty.
She looked towards the shade. Her vision was blurry. Painwheel stumbled forward, a push from the Buar Drive contributing much of the momentum.
The shade karate chopped Painwheel in the neck.
“Gack!” Painwheel choked, stumbling backwards, clutching her throat. Losing her balance didn't occur to her until she hit the ground. “Ah!”
“Painwheel, this is insane,” Twilight said, “You don't need to prove anything! So many ponies – people – care about you. You have so much to live for. Don't throw it all away!”
Discord said nothing. He simply watched the human writhe on the ground, having a coughing fit, then looked to the shadow.
The shadow met Discord's gaze. It cocked a bushy eyebrow, frowning.
“I-I...I'm...cough...not done...”
Painwheel rose to her knees again, then tried to support herself on one. She was halfway to her feet when her muscles gave out. “Ah!” she cried, falling flat on her face.
The human brought herself to hands and knees, grunting loudly. She gasped for breath, hair falling in front of her eyes. Dust coated the better part of her body, much glued there by wet, oil-colored fluids. She crawled on all fours, drawing closer. With trembling hand, she reached out for the satchel. She could see it right in front of her.
“Tch.”
The shade reached down and grabbed the human by the neck. With prodigious might, the shade lifted the Painwheel off the ground.
“Gack! Ack! Guh!” Painwheel choked, grabbing the ebony hand reflexively but having little strength left to make anything of it. Even to reduce the weight pressure on her throat.
“Painwheel!” Twilight screamed, beginning her flailing anew.
Discord held the alicorn firm. His four hearts and one anti-heart beat furiously and/or harmonically.
Painwheel's feet dangled beneath her. She tried to strike out with the Buar Drive, but the shadow batted it away with its own. She added another hand to grabbing the shade's arm, trying desperately to support herself. Her vision was...spinning.
The shade stared at her. Their eyes met, red to yellow.
It...scowled. The shade trembled, muscles tightened. It's dark lips parted. Its teeth were gritted.
It was actually angry. “...use...less...” it choked softly, with great effort, in an unsettling baritone.
The black fist let go.
The black foot swung around and kicked Painwheel in the chest, hard enough to send her flying straight up.
“GAH!” Painwheel said.
“PAINWHEEL!”
“Oh dear...” Discord mumbled. “He's angry now.”
Painwheel soured high into the air, towards the ceiling. As she reached the apex of her flight, she rotated so she hung parallel to the roof.
That...hurt, she thought.
The doppelganger jumped up and over her, hanging just above Painwheel. Its body began to spark and bulge. Everywhere. Its faux Buar Drive began spinning up. “HEEEERRRR!” it growled.
Oh. Painwheel's eyes went wide. I know this. This will hurt a lot more.
“GRRRRAAAGH!”
Dozens of spikes erupted from the shadow's body. They sailed all around and through Painwheel.
“...eeee...” Painwheel breathed, at least one spike puncturing a lung. She had no way of knowing how many times she was just impaled, and how many spikes just existed to cage her in. All she could see were the spikes. And the black angel of death before her.
She couldn't move her arms, or her legs. She turned her head, looking over her shoulder (which was stuck with a spike.
They were falling. Straining her neck, Painwheel could see the ground. Illuminated by light pouring in from outside. Shadows of a pony and a something wiggling about on the ground. Black blood smeared in little pools.
And the satchel, sitting where it dropped.
Painwheel's heart skipped a beat. I know how to win.
In her peripheral vision, Painwheel saw the spinning blades advancing for her.
Time slowed to a crawl. Acting quickly, Painwheel flexed every muscle she could. The blades advanced slowly towards her; her perceptions were dialated to the point of seeing each individual blade move. She kept her head facing sideways, with the buzzsaw just in sight.
Her parasites squirmed under the pressure.
For the Trinity's sake, she thought, make yourself useful for once!
“Ngh!”
Spikes erupted from Painwheel's body, angled so as to converge in front of her. They just crossed each other when the shade's Buar Drive impacted them. Sparks flew out in all directions.
Hold it. Just a little more.
The two fighters, joined together in a forest of thorns, fell. Light and sound and black blood flew out from them.
Just a little more.
Painwheel's parasites began to melt away under the constant assault. They shivered, yet remained rigid enough.
“Grrrrr...” the shade grumbled, leaning in more. It pressed the buzzsaw harder.
The ground was in spitting distance.
Chunks of Gae Bolga broke away, several all at once. The blades passed straight through the barrier, right into Painwheel's chest. It bit into her flesh, over and over. Black blood and black ichor sprayed everywhere. Painwheel grimaced. "Ack!"
The shade was...disappointed. It...
“...I...win...”
Painwheel's Buar Drive – directly behind her and therefore free of the ebony forest of spikes – reached down. Blades shifting, it formed a primitive claw. It seized the satchel, swung back, and then threw it towards the door.
The shade's exposed eye shot open wide, following the flying bag. The doppelganger retracted everything. Spikes, blades, everything.
Painwheel slammed to the ground hard, relatively recent wounds spraying more blood where the spikes and blades had vacated. “Gack!”
The shade planted a foot on the ground and jumped horizontally. It reached for the satchel.
Which easily cleared the threshold, seized by the waiting paw of a draconequus.
“Gotcha!” Discord cheered, holding the satchel up.
The shade fell to the ground short of the door frame. It crawled to its knees, looking at Discord. Its eyes were wide, its mouth agape where it had room to move.
Then...it smiled. “Heh...heh...ha ha...hooo...” It chuckled briefly. Then its body began to deform, melting like butter in an oven. Its smiling face dissolved into a dark mass. Sinking into the floor, it lost all substance, reverting to a simple shadow. The shadow flowed across the ground and returned to Painwheel's shadow.
Painwheel merely looked on, head tilted back from her prone position.
“...I...cough...win...you...fuck...”
Then she passed out.
“I did it!”
Spike held aloft his latest handiwork. The shattered teapot was a difficult task, but once he figured out how all the pieces fit together, a little glue was all it needed. “Good as new!
“...okay, so maybe not,” Spike frowned, noticing just how obvious the cracks were. “Hmm...hopefully Twilight won't notice.”
“Who?”
Spike turned to that ever enigmatic owl. “Twilight,” he said, “weren't you listening? Ugh, whatever. She should just be glad the thing is in one piece.” He studied the flower that adorned the side. “Maybe when she and Painwheel return, we can have some tea together. Just the three of us. Me, Twilight, and Painwheel.”
“Who?”
“Painwheel.”
“Who?”
“Painwheel!”
“Who?”
“Painwheel!”
The human blinked, the bright sunlight shining right in her eyes. Painwheel brought a hand up to shade her face. She looked toward the silhouette with the horn that made the noise. “Ugh...stop shouting my name...you sound like a broken record...”
“Oh thank goodness you're okay!” Twilight Sparkle threw her hooves over Painwheel's torso. “I thought I...I thought you were going to...t-to d-die and...” She started sobbing, burying her face in Painwheel's chest. “...you...s-stupid...could have gotten yourself killed...”
“Ow, ow! Okay, enough!” Painwheel pushed the weepy pony off with her other hand. “Easy on the front. I just got cut up bad.”
“...sniff...yeah,” Twilight said, wiping a tear from her already horribly matted face fur. “But you're already recovering. See?” She pointed at the human's body.
Painwheel cocked an eyebrow, then examined her hand. It had been cut multiple times, yet was mostly whole. She propped herself up with an elbow and examined her body. Most of her lacerations, scrapes, bruises, and puncture wounds were sealed or rapidly fading. “What the hell?”
“It was Discord's doing,” Twilight said, sitting on her haunches. “When he saw how you weren't healing, he injected you with this enormous needle of sugars and proteins. In fact...I don't entirely see how he could do that and not kill you instantly from filling your bloodstream with a large quantity of fluids, all at once. IV drips work slowly for a reason! This is unbelievable! Impossible! How did he do it?”
“I'll never tell!”
Discord hovered nearby, swinging the satchel around by the strap (which was somehow – probably magically – repaired as if new). “You're welcome, by the way.”
Painwheel frowned, forcing herself to a sitting-up position, despite Twilight's protestations. “I'm not going to thank you.”
“I know,” Discord said, rolling his eyes so hard the pupils warped the physical dimensions of his eyeballs. “Consider it payment for being so entertaining. Seriously, what an epic maneuver you pulled back there. Really impressive. Really.”
“And what about my parasites?” Painwheel said, trying to rise to her feet, despite Twilight's insistent protestations. “You promised.”
Discord stopped twirling the satchel, catching it in his hand. “Hmm...no.”
“You son of a bitch!” Painwheel said, taking a firm stand and raising a fist. “I'll kill you!”
“Kidding! Kidding!” Discord said, splaying his hands out. “I'm only joking. You're right.” He smiled. “A deal's a deal.” He snapped his fingers.
The world went white for a second.
…
Painwheel blinked.
She felt...strange. Like her whole body ached.
No. It was an ache born from a lack of ache.
She looked down at her body. It looked as emaciated as ever, but she expected that. It would be many hearty meals before she regained her earlier figure.
It was that feeling. She raised her hands, staring at them. She flexed her fingers.
Nothing.
She bent over slightly, then bent over more. She stood up straight again. She breathed in, out.
Nothing.
Stretch of the legs. Nothing. Turn of the head. Nothing. Hugging her arms, caressing her flesh. Messaging her muscles with her fingers. Nothing.
Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
She felt no pain.
Her hands wandered up to her shoulders. They were bare. No nails. Her hands dove to her thighs. No nails. One hand jumped to the top of her head. The skull pin fell to the ground, her brown hair tumbled free. No nails.
They were gone. The Gae Bolga were gone. The parasites were gone. Gone. Gone. Gone.
“They're gone. They're gone!”
Her mouth opened wide, the sides upturned. “The pain is gone!”
Painwheel laughed.
“Ha...ha ha...ha ha ha...” She exploded into giggles, absolutely beaming. Tears of joy ran down her face. “Yes. Yes! YES!”
She threw her arms up in the air. “I'M FREE!” she shouted, grinning like a bastard. “NO! MORE! PAIN!”
Twilight clapped her hooves, smiling with joy. “Hurray! I'm so happy for you, Painwheel!”
Painwheel ran over and wrapped her arms around Twilight's neck. She rubbed her cheek into Twilight's eye. “Twilight! I couldn't be more happy in my life! Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
“Nmo...broflem...Prainvheel...” Twilight said, her mouth being smothered in the human's chest. Why did humans need these fleshy lumps, anyway?
“Ahem! Aren't you forgetting someone?” Discord pointed to himself. “I should think a single thank you goes to me. Exercising phenomenal cosmic power to rewrite reality, while child's play for one of my station, is nonetheless worthy of praise.”
Painwheel ran over and threw her arms around Discord's middle, surprising the demigod. “...thank you, Discord,” she said. “For everything you've done for me.”
“Oh, it gets better, my dear.” Discord reached down to Painwheel's back.
She heard an mechanical sound. Some part of her awareness was severed. She looked over her should.
Discord held the base of the Buar Drive in his paw, separated from her spine. The blades plopped to the ground, limp.
“I supposed, while you were shooting for a quality of life increase,” Discord said, holding up the flaccid metal limb, “that you would also prefer the ability to not carry around your, shall we say, tail? All the time? So I made it detachable. I've learned so much of machines studying you, I daresay I have a few projects in mind for later.” He giggled. “But anyway, this...whatever it is, comes off. See?” He plugged the Buar Drive base into a socket in Painwheel's back. She felt the return of that extra bit of awareness. “Tail goes on.” Discord twisted the mechanism, pulling it from the socket. The awareness went away. “Tail goes off, et cetera. You get the idea.” He let the whole machine got, the Buar Drive tumbling to the ground.
Painwheel began to cry. She hugged the avatar of chaos again, burying her face in his furry chest. “Thank you! Thank you so much!”
“Humph...well...” Discord wrung his neck flesh like a collar – somehow – then pushed Painwheel away. “All in a day's work.”
“Uh, Discord?”
“Yes Twilight?”
Twilight cocked an eyebrow, still eying the Buar Drive. She would have a fun time studying that, and Painwheel's new socket...not dirty! Twilight coughed. “Where did the parasites go, exactly? If you don't mind me asking?”
“Oh, I have them here.” Discord raised a paw, palm upwards. A clear sphere appeared from nowhere with a pop. It was like glass, inside of which wriggled and writhed a tangled mass of sharp, black worms.
Painwheel's eyes went wide.
“Yes, yes,” Discord said, “I kept them. Seemed a shame to destroy something so...unique. No idea what I'm going to do with fifty kilograms of parasite. But I suppose I'll think of something.” He closed his paw, and the sphere popped like a bubble into nothing again. “Who can say? Perhaps one day, Painwheel, you might come asking me for them back.”
“...fuck that!” Painwheel said bluntly.
“And what about the satchel?” Twilight said, pointing with a hoof at the leather bag hanging from Discord's shoulder like a creepy, depraved purse. “What about that thing was so important that Painwheel had to risk her life to get it?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Nothing.” Discord held up the bag. “The world would continue on, Sun Butt and Lunatic would keep raising and lowering the celestial bodies, if this satchel never made it into my hands. Other than the enchantments placed upon it for its own sake, it has no real power.
“No, I wanted it for...sentimental reasons...” Discord stared longingly at the bag. “It's an eons-old creature thing. You wouldn't understand. Well, perhaps you will, Twilight, in time. But not now.”
“That seems vague and evasive,” Twilight said, frowning.
“It does, doesn't it? Oh well, that's neither here nor there.” Discord said, putting the satchel behind him. “Painwheel has gotten what she wanted – for real this time – and no one died. That's the important part. All you have now is to head on home, and move on with your lives.” He raised his paw, ready to snap.
“Discord!” Painwheel said, suddenly.
“Hmm?” Discord said, pausing his snap.
“Thanks.”
He smiled. “You're welcome, any time. I don't know. You're presence just makes everything so much more...”
He snapped. The world went white.
“...interesting.”
Twilight and Painwheel appeared on the balcony where they left, high above Equestria. Birds flew about. One pigeon that was stationed on the railing squawked and flew away.
Painwheel looked out upon the landscape. She no longer felt that sense of dread or despair. It all seemed...so much more beautiful then.
Painwheel felt happy.
“Twilight...thank you.”
“Now you're the one sounding like a broken record.” Twilight giggled, joining the human by the railing. “But you don't have to thank me. I did one of the worst things a being could do to another, to you. And when you already had experienced that pain before. If I could do anything to help you, even slightly, I would jump at it in a heartbeat. I'm obligated to.”
“Well, I don't think of you anymore as that...horrible mare...” Painwheel said, leaning against the railing, “or as someone who owes me an obligation. You, and Spike, and all the rest. You all tried your best to take care of me in my darkest hour. And I was never grateful for it.” She turned to Twilight. “That changes now. I...I want to see you all as...”
She thought of Filia. Thought of the betrayal.
Then she thought of the good times. The laughs. The sunsets. The great food and greater music.
She thought at last of Filia as Painwheel last saw her. Not knowing who she was, or what she'd done. As innocent as could be, regardless of past guilt.
...Painwheel missed Filia very much.
“...as friends.” Painwheel reached her hand out, and clasped it over Twilight's hoof.
Twilight Sparkle smiled. “I'd love that very much, too. I know the others would love it even more.” She looked out to the mountains, the birds, the fields. Cloudsdale in the distance, with pegasi buzzing about like bees. “Everything is going to be okay, Painwheel. Count on it.”
Discord hovered in the air. He looked down. His misshapen – or, as he'd call it, “exciting” - shadow was painted over the mountain stone. Like someone drew the world's most irregular crime scene chalk drawing, and then a precocious child ran in and filled the drawing in with black paint. And even painted within the lines.
On reflection, Discord didn't know if he liked the sound of how that simile ended. A child staying within the lines? The sanity! Quite horrible.
Oh, and vapor began pouring out of Discord's shadow. That's what he gets more paying too close attention to distracting similes.
The vapor rose up, collecting in a mass a meter or two above the ground. It issued out in a trickle at first, but then increased to quite a volume. Not as volumous as it used to, though, Discord noted. How the ages diminish.
Billowing and churning, the cloud warped between various shapes, until it finally picked one it liked. A head formed, as did two arms, and a slim torso. The whole cloud tapered off at the bottom into a vaporous tail. Like a ghost.
Upon its brow sat bushy, bushy eyebrows. Eyes opened upon under them; sunflower yellow.
“Arabus,” Discord said.
“What in Tartarus took you so long!” the cloud bellowed in his deep voice. “You said you were just coming back! Just going to do a little bit of shennanigans, and you'd have me out! Do you know how long I've been stuck in there?”
“Do you?”
“...touche,” Arabus said, rage deflating. “How long have I been stuck in there?”
“A little longer than I, stuck in a statue because of meddlesome ponies,” Discord said, waving a hand, “A thousand years.”
“Abyss below!” Arabus said, rubbing his head. “A thousand years...yes, it did seem like a long time...”
“If it means anything, one variably powerful abstract to another,” Discord said, “I'm...sorry, for taking so long. You wouldn't believe how much trouble it is to trick a mortal into jumping into an obvious trap, and having them be desperate enough to commit to it after its sprung.”
“Discord? Apologizing?” Arabus grabbed his head with both hands. “The world has certainly gone mad. I don't know if I want to have anything to do with it, if you can't count on an amoral being to remain amoral.”
“Yes, well...” Discord sighed. “We've all come a long way since the old days. I've fallen in with a more...stable crowd, as it were. It galls me every day...but I wouldn't trade it for the world.”
“Things have changed, if you're talking like that.” Arabus stroked his chin. “I'll need time to process all this. Might not be the best time for my well-deserved roaring rampage of revenge, huh?”
“Probably not.” Discord threw the cloud monster the satchel. “You'd best lay low a while. There's a lot of powerful folks stomping around, with their friendship and the magic that comes with it. No time for going half-cocked. Plus...” Discord pointed to Arabus' ephemeral form. “...you're looking a little thin, there. Not like the big, strong Shadow Thief I used to know.”
“Oh, lay off, will ya? I've been in a cage for a millennium. I'm hungry.” He raised his satchel, checking its weight. “The Satchel seems hungry too...thanks, by the way.”
“Well,” Discord said, grinning wryly. “Better late than never, right? Just so you know, Arabus, this makes us square. If things go south, and we end up on different sides of the fight, I won't hesitate to turn you into bong filler. Get me?”
“That I do,” Arabus said, clutching the satchel. “Guess this is goodbye.”
“Call it a 'smell ya later', why not?”
“He he, oh Discord. Always a kidder.” Arabus turned to leave. “It's time to find some shadows, that look so dull and gray...”
Discord smiled. “...there's nothing quite like shadows...”
The girl struggled against her bonds, to no avail. Her arms and legs were fastened to the operating table tight. A leather strap constricted her throat, making it hard to breath. Her head was held in place by some cold, hard apparatus. Light shined in her face from a strong lamp, blinding her.
A figure leaned into view. A dark silhouette against the light. As the girl's eyes adjusted, she saw the figure had blue hair, and wore a white surgical mask and eyepatch.
The nurse – Valentine – looked elsewhere. “Scalpel.”
Another figure leaned into view. He wore a thick mask, his brain on display beneath a glass skullplate. Brain Drain clasped a metal tool in his claw-like gauntlets. He handed it to Valentine.
The girl couldn't move. She was paralyzed.
Sweet trinity above.
“Anesthesia levels?” Valentine said, examining the knife. It glittered under the heavy lamp.
Brain Drain was replaced with a nun. “Holding steady,” she said in guttural tones, a mixture of high and low voices.
“Understood. Commencing incision.”
The nurse leaned over the girl, bringing the scalpel closer and closer to the girl's face.
The girl tried to scream. But her mouth wouldn't move. She couldn't breath.
She felt the knife cut into her flesh. Heard the wet squish of parting flesh, the scraping of metal against bone. Saw Valentine staring at her, meticulous. Unemotional. Dead-eyed.
The cutting stopped. Slipping fingers into moist flesh, the nurse peeled skin back. Darkness fell over the girl's eyes, only to disappear. Valentine pulled the girl's face away. The girl could tell it from the silhouette of eye, mouth, and nostril holes in the middle of the skin flap, as it was passed under the lamp.
The face was tossed unceremoniously aside. The disembodied head of a cat woman jumped into view and eagerly caught the girl's face in its mouth. It plopped out of sight, lips smacking loudly. “Yum yum yum yum yum!”
“Transfusion status?” Valentine said.
“Blood transfusion proceeding normally.” The nun's place was taken by a maid, back alight with blue fire and blood red skulls in her eyes. The Skull Girl's sleeve was rolled up, a tube stuck in her desiccating arm. Thick, black blood flowed from it, feeding into the girl's own.
The girl felt like screaming. Like crying. Like throwing up. She still couldn't move.
No no no!
“Understood.” Valentine turned to her side, picking up a leather satchel. Her bloody fingers fished through the contents. “Retrieving facial graft.” From the dark confines, the nurse brought out a circular object. It was concave, and when the nurse turned it over under the lamp, light poured through two holes, evenly spaced.
The girl vibrated intensely on the table. Finally, she opened her mouth. “Please! Don't do that!” she cried. “I want my own face back! Please!”
“Nonsense,” Valentine said. “This is your face. Applying graft.” She lowered the mask towards the girl's face.
“Let me go! I don't want this! I just want to go home! I want- MHMP!”
The mask slammed over the girl, shutting up her mouth. She wept profusely. Her whole world went red. She couldn't breath.
“Nurse?”
Valentine turned to the assistant. “Yes?”
The maid was replaced by a violet alicorn pony. A tray levitated in front of her. “The organic implants are prepped and ready.” She grinned. A nail floated off the tray, black as pitch and wriggling.
“Understood.” The nurse took the nail in her blood-splattered fingers. Where once the blood stains were red, they were now black. Valentine reached out her other hand. “Hammer.”
A blond haired girl forked the hammer over. No, now she had raven hair. It seemed she couldn't decide. “Hammer,” Filia said, smiling cheerfully.
The nurse nodded. “Proceeding with implantation.” She stooped over. Hovering the sharp end of the nail over the girl's eye, Valentine raised the hammer.
The girl trembled all over, feeling the sharp point against her cornea.
I just want to go home.
“But Painwheel...” the nurse said. She shook her head, the mask falling away. “You are home.” It was the girl's mother. Standing across from her, the girl's father loomed ominously. “You're right where you belong.”
The hammer fell.
“AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH”
Carol bolted upright in bed. Her body shivered, glistening with sweat. She breathed heavily, tears rolling down her cheeks. She clutched her blanket close.
She looked around. The bedroom was mostly bare, the most prominent decoration being a vase of flowers on a table beneath the window. The first rays of morning light filtered in.
The human huffed and puffed, blinking. She wiped her eyes. “A dream...just another dream...” Her heartbeat slowed.
Carol looked at the brand new clock on her bedside. She looked out the window. “I guess it's time to get to work.”
“The usual before work, Goose?”
Al Gratin carried a tray to the table, planting a cup of coffee and a fluffy pastry.
Goose Down nodded, grabbing the coffee cup. “Thanks, Al. You're the best.” He sipped the beverage, letting the warm aroma waft over his snout. He took a bite from the pastry, chewing happily.
“Taste good?”
“Good as always,” Goose nodded, taking another bite.
“Can I get something?”
Al and Goose looked over. Goose almost spat out his coffee.
Carol walked up, clad in a cotton blouse and denim work pants. In one hand hung a cello case. “Is it too early for fruit smoothies?”
Al Gratin blinked, then shook his head. “Not at all! I'll be right back.” The cafe owner ducked into the building.
Goose Down averted his gaze, sadly fiddling with his cup.
“Uh...have we met before?” Carol said, tilting her head at Goose.
“Um...yeah, we've...hurf...met a few times...” Goose trailed off, taking a furtive gulp of coffee.
“Oh. Well I'm sorry, I don't think I got your name.” Carol held out her hand. “Hello. My name is Carol.”
Goose looked to the human's hand, then to her face. He noted how the formerly emaciated creature looked fuller...healthier. Her eyes were still red, framed in black, but they were softer. Less intense. She opened her mouth broadly, teeth flashed. It was so awkward, it was goofy. Harmless.
The stallion extended his hoof, allowing it to be enveloped in the human's grasping paw. He smiled. “Goose. Goose Down.”
“Woo hoo!”
An energetic little go kart sped down a quiet dirt road. Wind swept through the manes of three little fillies.
Mostly because the day was already a bit breezy. The cart was hardly exceeding a galloping pace. Just as it was designed.
“Down that way!” Apple Bloom cheered, pointing a hoof to a different road.
“Right!” said Scootaloo, edging the control rod to the side. The Cutie Mark Crusaders felt the centrifugal force against their bodies, pulling them away as they turned hard. Dirt flew up as the wooden wheels dug into the ground.
But the momentum was too great, and the cart couldn't make the ninety degree turn. “Whoa!” Scootaloo said, as the cart ran off the road and onto the grass. “Ack!” She hammered the stick back and forth, trying to straighten them out.
“Runnaway cart!” Sweetie Belle yelled, hooves clasped around the edge of the cart.
“Brake! Brake!” Apple Bloom said, hooves hung around Sweetie Belle.
“Brake! Right!” Scootaloo's hoof shot to a lever to her right. Yanking it back, the cart's wheels locked. “Hold on!”
The cart skidded along, dirt flying everywhere. It traveled towards a wooden fence. The three fillies gritted their teeth, bracing for impact. Luckily, friction took its toll, and the cart slowed to a stop just before the fence.
A relieved Apple Bloom flipped a switch to shut off the electric engine. “Whew! That was close! Ah thought we were done for.”
“Good thing we had brakes this time,” Sweetie Belle said.
“Yeah,” Scootaloo said, wiping her brow.
“Yes, it is.”
The fillies peeked over the fence. Carol was sitting on the ground, gardening tools in her hands.
“Oh! Miss Painwheel!” Apple Bloom said.
“Uh, we're sorry for all the noise,” Sweetie Belle said.
Carol shook her head, smiling. “Oh, it's alright,” she said, spading dirt from a patch of ground. She plucked a white flower from a box at her side and plopped the roots into the hole. As she cupped dirt around the roots, she said, “And please, call me Carol.”
The human rose to her feet, wiping her sweaty brow.
“You done, hon?” Lemon Drop said, walking out of the house around which the garden was situated.
“Yes, all done,” Carol said, stretching her arms over her head. She looked at her hands, caked with dirt.
“Dirty work, huh?”
Carol nodded. “I've been meaning to pick up gloves, but I have to order from the Griffin market, and those are expensive.”
“Oh, then I'll make sure you get a little extra for the work.”
“You don't have to do that, Miss Lemon Hearts.”
“Maybe not, but I'm doing it anyway.” Lemon Hearts winked. “If you're done for today, head inside to wash up. I'll be along in a second. Then I'll give you your bits.” She looked out over the bed of flowers. “Breathtaking.”
“Thanks,” Carol said, heading inside. A cello case was propped against the wall next to the front door.
Lemon Hearts looked over the fence, finally spotting the Cutie Mark Crusaders and their wagon. “...the hay is going on here?”
“Nothing, ma'am!” Apple Bloom said, turning on the cart.
“Just taking our cart out for a spin,” Sweetie Belle said, waving a hoof.
“And now we'll just be going,” Scootaloo said, putting the cart in reverse and backing them out, full speed. “Bye!”
“Scootaloo watch out for the trees!”
“Ah!”
“Hey Carol, come right in!”
Spike stood aside, allowing the human to step inside. The cool night breeze behind her swept into the library, rustling the pages of any book left open.
“Thanks” Carol said, setting her cello case on a table. “Is dinner ready?”
“Just got done,” Spike said, leading her into the kitchen. He pulled a chair back at the table, which was adorned by a number of vegetable dishes. Steam billowed off the food. “It was nice of you to come.”
“That it is, Carol,” Twilight said, already seated at the table, a full plate of food before her. “How are you doing at your cottage?”
“I'm doing great. I'm planting flowers in my spare time. The inside needs some more furnishings, though,” Carol said, taking her seat. “Thank you Spike.”
“Mm hmm,” Spike nodded, pushing her chair in. He ran over to take his own seat.
“Did Princess Celestia get my thanks for arranging that place?” Carol asked, spooning diced carrots on her plate. “It all seems too generous. I feel bad for taking it.”
“She knows you're grateful,” Twilight said, “don't worry. She considers it just recompense for what you did for Ponyville...and for having to deal with Discord.” The alicorn sampled a spoonful of peas. “Plus...munch munch...she wanted to congratulate you for the temple. Since you cleared it out, teams of archeologists and magical researchers have been crawling all over it. We're learning so much we never knew about ancient Maretanian culture, art, and magic.”
“I'm glad, then,” Carol said. She eyed the other dishes. “Everything smells delightful. Spike, did you cook all this?”
“All of it. As if Twilight could be trusted to cook.” Spike winked.
“I have cook books, you know!” Twilight said, frowning.
“Yeah, but you get distracted by them, and end up just reading the cook books, rather than watching the food while it's cooking.” Spike shook his head. “Lost so many good dishes that way.”
Carol stifled a chuckle with her hands.
“But anyway, I also got you something special.” Spike pointed to a covered dish. “In there.”
Carol lifted the lid. “Egg puffs?”
“You can get plenty of eggs around these parts,” Spike said. “Nopony ever thinks about how many eggs they eat when they bake things. I should have thought to just serve those, instead of traveling to Manehatten for Griffin market chicken.”
“But I like your chicken,” Carol said, using tongs to drop three or four little egg puffs to her plate. “But thanks anyway, these look great.” She popped one in her mouth. “Munch munch...delicious.”
“Just don't tell Fluttershy,” Spike said, winking. “If she ever stopped to think about how many eggs she's eaten buying from Sugarcube Corner, she'd probably freak.” He thought a moment, then added, “Also, don't mention that chicken thing. She still hasn't forgiven me for that.”
“Ha ha ha!” Carol laughed, followed by everyone else.
Rain fell heavily on the city of Tailgier, soaking the Maretanian soil into mud. Little streams of water flowed downhill through the streets. The sun was long set, and the evening deepened the darkness of the storm. Sailors and locals sped back and forth, ducking under awnings and shielding their heads with newspapers or shawls.
One building, not too far from the bay, stood out. Lights flowed out from its windows, and from the neon sign that read “Antaio's: Beer & Berbers”. Shouts and thuds came from inside.
“Out!”
The bar door flew open, a zebra in tattered clothes being thrown out by some burly, surly bouncers.
“Agh!” the zebra moaned, slamming to the ground. Muddy water sprayed everywhere. Bruises and scraps marred his face. His lips smacked, and he spat. A tooth splashed into a puddle. He stared at it with surprise, then looked up forlornly.
“Come back when you can pay your bucking tab, scrub,” said the bartender, as his fellows filed back inside. He slammed the door shut. The neon sign blinked momentarily with the jostling, then continued humming. Water flowing over its surface cast rippling shadows in the ambient orange light.
The zebra rose weakly to his hooves, gritting his teeth. Water rushed down his face, his hair matted and limp, getting in his eyes. He angrily brushed it away, then began limping away.
He walked around the corner, ducking into an alley. Soaked to the bone, he sat himself under a small awning, where it was slightly drier. The zebra shivered, hugging his forelegs for warmth.
Fishing for his dusty coin sack, he found it to be just as empty as before. In seconds, the only contents became drops of water. The zebra cursed in his mother tongue. He left his village – so long ago now – seeking his fortune. He thought he could get it easy, by gambling or simple cons. But he pissed it all away, every bit he made.
The zebra rubbed the side of his stomach. Traced the line of a scar. He remembered the hard-edged crew that gave it to him, over a missing few grams of “product”. His hoof brushed against a fresh scrape. He winced, figuring his old scars had new company.
He examined the spot he sat on, then grudgingly prepared to curl up for sleep. What little sleep he could hope to get.
“You look like you could use some help.”
The zebra started, looking around for the voice. “Who's there?”
From the darkness and rain, a cloud of vapor approached. In moments, it coalesced into a torso, head, and arms. The zebra swore it looked like a minotaur, except with a tail instead of legs. It also looked terrifying.
“What are you!?” the zebra gasped, leaning hard against the cold mud brick wall.
A pair of glowing yellow eyes formed on the cloud's face, topped with bushy cloud eyebrows. It floated above the ground, too insubstantial to be disturbed by the rain. The face smiled wide with a vaporous grin, bottomed out by a thick chin. “A friend,” the cloud said, “if you want me to be, that is. Down on your luck, huh?”
“...uh...yeah...” the zebra said, staring at the cloud. He gulped. “My...m-my grandmother talked of things like you. You're a demon. An evil spirit. Have you come to...t-to eat me?” He didn't know if he shivered and stuttered so from the cold, or the fear. Perhaps it didn't really matter.
“An evil spirit? Yeah, as a matter of fact, I am.” The cloud loomed over the zebra, studying him. “But I ain't here to eat you, boy. I'm here to hire you.”
“H-hire?” the zebra said, pushing himself to his hooves, one leg on the wall.
The cloud's arm extended into a whip, flying back and up. It fished along the roof, then came back bearing some object the zebra couldn't see clearly in the dark. “Yeah.” The cloud held up the object; a brown, rain-soaked satchel. To the zebra's dismay, it looked to be made of tanned hide. The cloud spoke, “I'm a powerful spirit, but it's a pain hauling this around everywhere. Bigger pain to be dealing and plotting, when every creature that sees me pisses itself.
“I need an assistant. Someone to carry this load, and manage my affairs. You want a job?”
The zebra stared at the satchel, then at the cloud's face. Those two yellow lights. They reminded the zebra of that day, arriving in Tailgier Bay by boat, and seeing the lights on the dock.
Those lights that promised the zebra so much opportunity.
“Yeah...yes, I want a job.” He held out a hoof, letting the cloud drop the satchel's strap right on it. The zebra felt its weight. It felt heavy in some insubstantial, intangible way. The zebra didn't even want to think what grisly thing he was holding.
The cloud smiled. “Ho ho ho!” he chuckled. “Then we have us a deal.”
Hair stood up on the back of the zebra's neck.
“What's your name, kid?” the cloud asked.
“...Z-Zeb,” stuttered the zebra, standing up fully. He gingerly slung the satchel strap over his head, letting it hang from his neck. “My name is Zeb.”
“Welcome aboard, Zeb. Call me Arabus.” An ephemeral hand reached out and patted Zeb on the shoulder. “Stick with me, kid, and we'll have more power and wealth than you can imagine.”
Zeb's back twitched under Arabus' touch. But Zeb grinned. “I don't know, boss. I can imagine quite a lot.”
Carol patted the cello case by her bed.
“I didn't need you today,” she said. “That's good. Maybe in this world, I won't ever need you again.”
The human changed into floral print pajamas. She wished she had more than one pair. If she asked Rarity to sew another, the mare would insist on creating eight more, and doing it gratis. It took all Carol's power just to talk the fashionista out of it the first time.
Hopping into bed, Carol reached over and turned out the light. She crawled under the covers.
She thought of her parents. She sighed. “Mom...Dad...I don't know if I'll ever come home.” Carol smiled. “But I'll keep working. Keep moving forward. You'd want me to do that, wouldn't you?”
Slowly, Carol drifted off to sleep, once again grateful to be without pain. “Today was a...good...day...”
Carol dreamed pleasantly.
“Your Majesty.”
Princess Celestia walked into the laboratory. “I received your message, Professor Bright,” she said, wings fluttering slightly. “You have something to show me?”
“Indeed I do.” The scientist led the diarch to a work table. Dozens upon dozens of glass jars were stacked on its surface. Each contained bits and pieces of desiccated pony remains. “Our autopsy of the zomboid creature proved nominally fruitful. We examined the pieces and cross-referenced their magical make-up to that recorded in necromantic papers stored in the Manehatten Museum of Mystic History. We've almost completely isolated the thanotonic mechanisms that animated the bodies.”
“You'll be able to reverse the effects?”
“Already have for most of the remains, as per your orders.” The scientist looked into a jar. “Since your ban on practical necromancy some years ago, finding experts on the art was difficult. One of the university students we brought on was virtually required to learn it from scratch from the books we could find, but according to him we'll be able to produce a viable counterspell against this variant.”
“Any significant deviations from historical Equestrian necromancy?”
“A bit, mostly in how the animation spell was weaved. It's much more mechanical, we think, than done with unicorn magic. But the underlying principle is the same.” The scientist waved a hoof, leading the princess over to another table. This one was covered in meticulously placed machine parts. “Speaking of mechanical subjects...”
“The machine heart,” Celestia said, eying the largely disassembled contraption. Pieces here and there showed signs of the puncturing they suffered, as well as of scorching. “I must admit the idea of a machine that absorbs magic to be...disconcerting...”
The scientist's face brightened. “Oh, I find it fascinating,” he said, then stopped himself. “Hrm...I mean...thorough examination of the machine has been...informative.”
“You understand how it works?”
“Only just barely, your majesty,” he said, eyes set on the metal parts. “But our understanding grows each day. It's...it's simply amazing. Aside from being driven mechanically, the way it absorbs ambient mana and distributes it across its web of connectors...it works on a model of magical theory we've never seen before!”
“Really?”
“Really!” Professor Bright scrambled to one side, pointing to a large poster plastered to the wall. It was adorned with hasty, exuberant notes of an esoteric, convoluted nature.
Celestia admitted to herself she could hardly make heads or tails of the information.
“We trawled the universities,” Professor Bright said, rapidly. “Checked dozens of texts on magical theory. Consulted experts in the field. Most of them had trouble grasping the ideas, and those that could initially swore up and down that it couldn't work. We had to tell them about how it was used in action to get them to believe. Nopony has ever seen a thing like it.”
“Shouldn't work?” Celestia asked, cocking an eyebrow.
“That's what the experts and the math said. Magic as we know simply does not work the way this model says it should. Not as we've ever observed it.
“Whoever made this machine was working on magic principles completely outside the context of our world.”
Outside
“Our girl is doing quite well for herself.”
Two figures stood on the edge of the universe, looking down on the world of Equestria. Strings of universes played out behind them.
No, three figures. “Indeed she is,” Discord said, stroking his beard. “It'll be a shame to see what's coming. I would almost be sad...if it didn't promise to be so interesting.” He grinned.
“You still have them?” the wanderer asked, tapping his cane with one finger.
“Right here,” Discord said, holding up the bubble. The parasites squirmed within. “I'll give them to her...when she asks for them back. You're sure she'll need them?”
“Almost certainly.” The wanderer stroked his thick, dark beard. His fingers were adorned with gold rings, one of which was attached to a wrist bangle by a length of chain. “It promises to be a thoroughly interesting affair. You...won't interfere?”
“Nope.” Discord shook his head. “What fun would that be?” He laughed heartily. “Ha ha ha! Oh...I'll see you two later. Tell me when everyone else gets here!” With that, he flew back into his universe, hiding in the folds of reality. In the Dreaming, where creativity was raw, boundless, and free.
The wanderer turned to his companion. “What do you think of him? This world's avatar of disorder?”
P. Rose paused.
“He's a fool, and a tool, and nutty interloper, like thread unspooled, keep him away from her. I got enough problems with the other chumps out here. Need me not this dumb spot, talkin' makes me need a beer.”
“Well said, Mr. Rose.”
“And don't give that 'Mister' crap!” The other turned on the wanderer. “I may wear a suit, but I can rap. Shut your trap, if you think of disrespecting me. I'm a straight gangster, yes with an 'R', cause I'm committing dope crimes, with my rhymes, it's plain to see. I'm P. Rose! And don't you forget it. Or your neutral ass is bound to get hit!”
“Alright, alright. Be cool, as they say.” The wanderer sighed.
P. Rose spread his arms out, a long white shawl draped over them and hanging from his elbows. He wore an expensive, cream-colored suit. His beard, while not as long as the wanderer's, was thick enough, and well maintained. He has a thin mustache, all to set off his Latin features.
And – unfortunately for his companion – he had a similarly stereotypical temper. “WJ, why you disrespect me? I came all this way, though my business is pressing.”
“You must know, I mean no offense.” WJ tapped his cane. “Besides, ones as far traveled as you and I should know better than to quibble over semantics, when the intent of respect is plainly evident. It is for that respect that I call you 'Mr. Rose'.” He paused, then added. “Perhaps Mr. P. Rose is better.”
P. Rose grumbled to himself, turned back towards the world. He nodded curtly.
WJ nodded in turn, looking to the world of ponies. How he hated what would ultimately occur there. He needed distraction. “Mr. P. Rose,” he said, “why did you choose the girl?”
“Why? That question ain't tough,” said P. Rose. “She won, beat the Heart, ain't that enough?” He smiled.
“I was under the impression you favored more...endowed women.” The wanderer motioned with his hands, miming an ample bosom.
P. Rose snorted. “I know, there were other chicks bustier than her. All fighting for that Heart, I quite concur. But it's a fool that bets just for looks. I'm in the bu'ness for keeps, and I look for hooks. I'm willin' to sacrifice to win...” He stroked his beard, contemplatively. “But her growin's not done, but about to begin.”
“Ah. An investment in the future, as it were,” WJ said, sardonically. It was almost clever reasoning, if it wasn't motivated by perverse lust. Still, reasoning by a pig is still impressive.
Not that he would ever say that aloud.
“Man, when is this thing gonna start, anyway?” P. Rose said. “I got to do crimes and make dimes, and bills to pay.”
“Patience, oh master wordsmith.” The wanderer leaned heavily on his cane. His eyes were locked down on the world. Taking in its beauty. It's brightness. “To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven. We cannot proceed until the other Outsiders come, and bring their candidates.
