Doppelganger
Sunset for Sunset
Admiral Biscuit
Well, this officially sucks. Sunset Shimmer put a hoof—hand--against the base of the statue, but of course the portal was sealed now. Princess Celestia wouldn't overlook that little detail. If she remembered the book correctly, it would be thirty moons before the damn thing opened again, and odds were she wasn't going to be getting through it even then without finding some way to boost her magic.
She struggled to her feet, trying to figure out how her new body was supposed to work. She hadn't expected there to be transformation magic coupled to the mirror. She wondered if Celestia knew about it. Surely she would—surely she'd been here before.
Okay. Four legs doesn't work. The joints are wrong. She stood up on her hind legs and brushed her skirt down, wondering briefly why the mirror portal had seen fit to accessorize her, before deciding it didn't really matter. The silvery disk of the moon in the sky was a reminder that things could be far, far worse.
If her studies into mirror worlds had taught her anything, it was that the compatible worlds were often quite similarly arranged. Thus, it stood to reason that the large building on which the statue housing the portal stood was a school ground, and given its size, there was almost certainly a dormitory. That would give her a place to spend the first night, at least. Maybe not in a room, but a lounge would be good enough.
She shambled along the sidewalk, finally reaching the glass doors at the front of the building. Neither pushing nor pulling moved them more than a fraction of an inch, and she got a sinking feeling in her heart that they were locked—that she was locked out.
Well, why not? She kicked the doors out of spite. Banished, and the school is locked. Guess I'm just going to have to spend the night out in the elements. She gave a disappointed look around the manicured campus lawn. She wasn’t a ‘roughing it’ kind of pony.
A school this big must be in or near a pretty sizable town, she thought. I'd be more comfortable at an all-night cafe or something. The U-shape of the building prevented her from seeing in more than one direction, so she walked back towards the statue, getting a feel for how her body wanted to move. The ground was much farther away than it had been to a pony; the distance was almost uncomfortable. If she had to guess, she was tall enough now to look Princess Celestia in the eye.
I'd punch her in the eye if she were here. Sunset looked around. There, off to her left, were the glowing lights of a town. No castle that she could see, so maybe this wasn't exactly the same as Equestria, but at least there was some kind of civilization besides the school.
• • •
It was a longer walk into town than she'd hoped, and her upright walk wasn't as efficient as her natural gait. Before, she'd used four sets of muscles to get anywhere; now she was using half that. It was exhausting—hard to imagine how these creatures got around.
She jumped off the road as a honking noise came from behind her. A large enclosed wagon rumbled by, its operator holding a single finger aloft in a strange salute. Sunset watched in confusion as it headed down the street. She hadn't seen any ponies pulling it; was it powered by some kind of magic? Normally, it would have been easy to sense such a thing, but in this form she didn't even have a horn.
She shook her head. Those would be problems to solve in the morning. For now, she needed to find someplace to stay for the night. Who knew what kind of wild creatures there might be?
A tantalizing and familiar smell filled her nostrils as she rounded a corner. Midway down the block, a glazed-donut sign beckoned. She'd spent many a late night at Donut Joe's, studying at a back table while she got her sugar fix.
Of course, she was flat broke right now, but she might be able to persuade someone to buy her a donut. She eagerly pushed open the doors, unconsciously looking up as a welcoming bell jingled over her head.
While it wasn't quite the same as the Donut Joe's in Canterlot, it was close enough, and the unmistakable smells of fresh-baked donuts and coffee kicked her into a higher state of alertness. Unfortunately, they also awoke a hunger in her belly that couldn't be sated.
She slid into a booth near the back wall of the shop, dropped her arms on the table, and then, for the first time, really looked at her new body. Her hands were undoubtedly one of her strangest features. They were extraordinarily complex; she wiggled her fingers around experimentally, giggling as they followed her mental commands.
Okay. Let's look over the rest of me. She tugged her shirt away from her chest and glanced down. That's odd. I can't imagine why I have those. Maybe—
Her thoughts were interrupted by a not subtle throat-clearing one table over. Sunset jerked her head back up and let go of the collar of her shirt. A heavyset woman—who had much larger chest-lumps—was giving her a dirty look.
Sunset smiled disarmingly, and looked around the shop. Everyone was wearing clothes which covered up most of their middles or more. They weren't fancy; indeed, some of them were stained and torn. An older stallion was wearing grease-covered overalls. Sunset shuddered at the thought of getting her clothes greasy.
She got up and headed for the bathroom. There might be a mirror in there, and she could check herself out.
• • •
Sunset sat back down at her table. Her new body was stranger than she'd thought, and some of the fasteners on her clothes were really weird. Not anything a pony would have ever come up with, that was for sure. Maybe it made sense with hands and all—but who put buckles where you couldn't even see them?
"You want anything to eat?"
Sunset jerked up at the familiar voice, and spun around, instinctively looking at pony-height for the source, before running her eyes up to a face which seemed almost familiar, yet completely different. "Joe?"
"Uh . . . yeah?" He furrowed his brow. "Are you going to order anything, Sunset?"
How does he know my name?
"I don't have any bits," she said.
"You're a real good customer," Joe told her. "How about the usual, on the house?"
"Uh . . . sure." She gave him a winning smile. "That'd be real nice."
"Rough night?"
"You have no idea." She looked down at the floor. "It's, um." Don't tell him too much, until you know more about how this world works. "Complicated! It's complicated."
"Boy troubles?" He chuckled. "Don't worry, your secret's safe with me."
Sunset watched him as he went behind the counter, grabbed a donut, poured a cup of coffee, and brought them to her. It wasn't until she was midway through her donut that the implications of what Joe had said earlier struck her.
If I'm a 'good customer,' that means I come in here a lot. Why else would he say it? So, it must mean that there's a . . . me . . . here already. She rubbed her hands together. If there is a me, than I can just take 'my' place. That'll make it so much easier to fit in. The only question is how?
She didn't have an answer by the time she was done with her donut. She dragged out the coffee as long as she could, searching for a solution to her problem, but by the time she'd reached the bottom of her mug of coffee, she still didn't have one.
She walked back into town, covering a yawn.
A block later, another angry honk sounded. I'm on the walking street now, stupid, she thought, as she turned to see who or what it was. A black vehicle with a pair of broad yellow stripes was moving at about her pace, and as she watched, the window on it disappeared.
"Hey Sunset," a voice called from inside the vehicle. "Do you want a ride home?"
"Sure." She grinned. This might be easier than she'd thought.
The driver of the car—a blue-haired boy—popped open the door for her, which was a relief. She'd never seen anything like it, and she would have given herself away if she'd had to struggle with the thing.
The seat was low-slung, and as she scooted her butt into position, she noticed that the blue-haired boy was surreptitiously looking at her legs. Whatever. I hope he knows where I live.
"Uh, what are you doing out so late?"
"I'm . . . I was just eating a donut and drinking some coffee."
"Studying?"
"Thinking." She crossed her arms and leaned back in the seat. He gave her another calculating look as her skirt rode up a bit higher on her thighs, but she put it out of her mind as the vehicle gave a throaty roar and took off down the street hard enough to slam her back in her seat. She instinctively reached out a hand to brace herself on the dashboard as the blue-haired boy slowed to make a turn.
"You know—"
"I've got a lot on my mind," Sunset interrupted. "I'm sorry, but I just want to keep to myself right now."
"Well, okay. Never let it be said that The Flashmeister doesn't respect the wishes of a lady." He glanced over at her again, then looked back at the road.
She ignored him as they cruised through the streets, finally stopping in front of a modern-looking two-story house.
"Well, here you are."
"Thanks." She rubbed her nose against his cheek, turning his face bright red, before fumbling with the handle until it finally opened the door. "I'm sure I'll see you soon."
"Tomorrow, in algebra," he said brightly.
"Yeah." She slammed the door shut and walked up the cement path to her house, only relaxing when she heard the roar of the black vehicle disappearing down the street. Okay, now I know where I live. Another piece of the plan falls into place. True, she didn't know what that plan was, yet, but she'd figure something out.
She found a nice covered spot under a bush in the backyard, curled up, and tried to sleep. It was as miserable as she’d expected. Her jacket did almost nothing to keep her warm, and she couldn’t find a comfortable position. On top of that, her short skirt left her thighs mostly exposed to the cold.
For the next week, she observed her quarry. She had to learn everything she could about this world's Sunset—but she also needed to do it without being seen. True, if someone caught a passing glance of her, they wouldn't think twice . . . but if they saw two Sunset Shimmers at the same time? That would send up all sorts of warning flags.
It was a week from Hell. The first day, she'd just observed from her spot in the backyard, afraid to move too far away and miss something. Sunset left first in the morning, followed by her parents. LIke Joe, they were somewhat reminiscent of her pony parents, and their voices were identical. She had to resist the urge to run to them—but if she did, it would only be a short gain; once the native Sunset came back, they’d think her a changeling and banish her as an imposter.
All day long, nothing much happened at the house, then midafternoon, the same yellow bus that picked up Sunset dropped her off again. She stayed alone in the home until a few hours before nightfall, when her parents returned.
By the third day, Sunset was confident enough in the daily routine to climb into the house through a back window. She explored every nook and cranny of the house, raided the cupboards for supplies, and took a much-needed shower.
Her tantative plans were thrown off by the coming of the weekend. Both Sunset and her parents stayed home, and she cowered in the bushes, terrified of being spotted. She couldn't leave—she could hear Sunset inside, talking on a phone. She wrapped her fingers around the kitchen knife she'd stolen—poor self-defense, but better than nothing. The wooden handle gave her courage.
On the following day, when the bus picked up Sunset, she could wait no longer. It was time to act. Sitting around like a scared foal gained her nothing. As soon as it vanished at the end of the street, she went into the house, scribbled out a hasty note, and picked up a handful of supplies she thought she might want. Her stolen hoodie was uncomfortable in the heat, but she'd need it to maintain her deception.
It took her longer than she'd planned to gather her supplies, and she barely made it out of the house before the bus returned. Sunset jumped the backyard fence, staggering under her heavy backpack, and made a beeline for the park. If she was right, Sunset would show up pretty soon. If she was wrong? She'd lost everything.
I know how she'll think, Sunset thought. She's me.
It was still a long wait.
Finally, the mirror-world her showed up, looking uncertainly around as she walked up the path into the park, a piece of paper held tightly in her hand. Sunset grinned and stepped out from behind the pavilion. "Sunset?"
"Who—Oh My God."
"I haven't got much time right now." Sunset lifted her hood back up, obscuring her face. "But I wanted to speak to you alone for a moment. Listen—I'm your twin sister. I have something . . . complicated that I need to tell you, but it'll take too long to do it right now."
"I . . . you can't be real."
"I am real. Look, I know you've got a lot of questions, and I'm ready to answer them. But you can't tell your parents, okay? Don't tell them that I'm here."
"Cross my heart and hope to fly . . ."
". . . Stick a cupcake in my eye," Sunset finished with her. "I—I will be here for the rest of the night, in the pavillion by the pony. Once your Mom and Dad have gone to bed, you need to sneak back out of the house, and I'll explain everything. Until then, you've got to act normal. Trust me, when I tell you what's going on, you'll understand."
Sunset grinned evilly as her twin walked back out of the park, occasionally looking back, as if she expected the second Sunset to vanish like a mirage.
• • •
She'd expected to be bored, waiting for the rest of the afternoon in the park, but the time just flew by. Sunset had to set everything up—there would be no room for mistakes later. That's the difference between doing and planning, I guess.
She stuck her head out as she heard the thump of boots on the park path. "Psst. Over here!"
The native Sunset quickened her pace. Once she got near the pavilion, Sunset moved towards the pond. She'd found the perfect spot already. "Come this way. I have something very important to show you."
She led the native Sunset along the boardwalk that fronted the lake, finally taking her down a side trail. "It's only a little bit further."
"I can hardly see a thing."
"Just trust me." She led her to a small drop-off, where a dark blanket lay on the ground. "Go look under that blanket—you won't believe what's there."
Native Sunset complied, crouching down next to the blanket, and lifting one corner. "All I see is a bunch of cement blocks and rope. What— "
She'd planned to say some witty final words. Wasn't that how it went in books? But her instincts took over, and the knife silently flashed downward, again and again and again, until she was sure her doppelganger would move no more.
Sunset flicked the knife off into the water, and began the unpleasant task of wrapping the body in the blanket and tying on the cement blocks. She'd picked her location well; once she was done, she rolled it off the edge, a broad smile crossing her face as the body splashed into the lake.
Sunset wiped her bloody hands off on the grass. And now for phase two of my plan.